#without a freaking doubt

[shoyoackerman]

University Student Kuroko Tetsuya HC

University student Kuroko whose studying psychology and study of classics (Ancient Greek) They’re heavy content subjects but he loves a challenge is enjoys being in class and learning.

He would like to work as a museum curator! when he was younger his grandma, Kiyoko, would take him every weekend to the museum. he fell in love and has so many fond memories associated with the place.

Nobody would believe it by looking at him but Kuroko has the highest tolerance of alcohol out of everyone. Could go through bottles of vodka like water and he’s not even affected. The only thing that gets him tipsy is absinthe.

Yes, the green fairy, deaths kiss itself, the one drink everyone doesn’t even dream of touching. Yet Kuroko loves it. In his apartment he has one single row on his shelf just dedicated to absinthe 😭

(Kagami can’t drink for shit. like he has one single beer and he’s white girl wasted)

(Aomine is a wine mum. He hates alcohol except WINE. He’s a classy man and he loves a good Shiraz. Jokes when he’s poor he will be repping a goon bag around his shoulder)

Now, since high school, Kuroko did a lot of soul searching. No seriously he graduated a year early (because he’s smart asf and he used to have Akashi tutor him back at Teiko) and he went travelling.

WHERE DID HE GO?

New Zealand, specifically Queenstown. And what did he do? He worked part time as a waiter at a farm that would do tours. He would travel by boat every morning and afternoon. He loved it. The scenery, the people and being able to be seen by everyone. It helped boost his self-confidence a lot.

Kuroko travelled a lot (he comes from a rich family they have a stained relationship. So they just throw money at him to compensate not being there for him when he was growing up) he went to as many different counties as possible. Would pick up the language and would essentially be taken in by the locals.

But I’m getting off track.

Kuroko shares an apartment with Kagami and Aomine. No, don’t ask why he ever agreed to that. Seriously don’t. Top ten dumbest moments of his life ever.

He loves his friends…a lot ;)

But god, he cannot handle being the peacekeeper between the two. Aomine who doesn’t know when to stop teasing Kagami. And Kagami who still doesn’t know when to not let Aomine get a rise outta him.

But he’s stuck with them, unfortunately. (No really he’s stuck because he already signed his name on the lease and he basically pays for most of the rent and he would essentially be making the two dumbasses homeless)

Anyway, Kuroko is a smoker! Or well, he used to be. Or is is trying not to be. It’s hard habit for him to quit. And yes! Yes Kuroko was once the person who ABHORRED smoking. Would always throw water on Aomine back in middle school when he would try and smoke. (He did it to be cool, but he always hacked like an idiot and he hated the taste so it never stuck)

Kuroko however. Well, he started smoking when Kiyoko died. His beloved grandma, the person who was basically his mother and father. The who raised him and moulded him into the person he is today.

He was packing away her things, since he was moving out of the house and into the apartment with his loser best friends, he found her case of cigarettes. She was an occasional smoker but she did stop for the sake Kuroko who would give her his puppy eyes. Because ‘grandma you can’t die and leave me alone’

which well…

he took the case with him, sleek and rose coloured with intricate flower designs on the front with the family name ‘Kuroko’ engraved in cursive. He kept it with him at all times, he doesn’t know why. He just. He felt closer to her when he had it with him.

It was after the funeral, he was alone sitting on the balcony. pulling out the case and looking at the cigarettes before lighting one up and taking a drag.

(Yeah he choked. Throat burned, his lungs screaming at him and his eyes watering. It was the pain. Just the pain of the smoke nothing else)

It eventually became a habit, he would smoke when he was stressed. Which was a lot when he was majoring in psychology and classics. And when he was roommates with Kagami and Aomine.

He smoked when he was angry, when he was hungry and when he was bored. When he was drinking. It eventually became a daily thing.

And because of this new bad habit his fiends staged an intervention. Because like ‘c’mon tetsu you’re the same guy who burned my porn mags because it was rotting my brain!’

And Kuroko did eventually. Slowly. Very infinitesimally did he eventually give up on smoking. Although everyone stayed clear of him during the first couple weeks of him going cold turkey.

Which is why you will find him sucking on a lollipop. He tried finding vanilla flavoured ones but they always tasted like cough medicine so he switched up cherry. His now second favourite flavour.

Kuroko actually went through a lot of different methods when he was trying to give up. He tried chewing gum but he constantly was thinking about how he was chewing his own spit.

He tried replacing it with plain ole black coffee but he hates coffee unless it was overly sweet and at least had five tablespoons of sugar.

Kuroko also tried the uh, fault in your stars method. Yeah that didn’t work. He left them a very long one star review on google.

And so sucking on a lollipop became the easiest way to help him break his cancer inducing habit. But in return he now has a sweet tooth and candy is his new addiction.

VIOLINIST KUROKO. GOD YES.

Growing up his parents forced him into lessons. It was very surprising actually that Kuroko and Akashi never met before Teiko, their parents were basically in the same friends of friends of friends group.

But anyway, Kuroko was put into violin lessons. He hated it at first because he wanted to be out playing basketball. But he did eventually love it. He just kept up the disdained attitude in front of his parents because he was extremely petty like that. What can you say, his blank stare started very young 🤧

Kuroko didn’t really advertise that he knew how to play instruments. He wasn’t hiding it that’s for sure but you know he was the kind of person that wouldn’t say anything unless explicitly asked about it.

Anyway, they were strolling through campus when they saw some people recording a tik tok, asking students that if they could play a random instrument they’d win money. Kagami and Aomine dragged him over because hey, they were the generation of miracles it can’t be hard to play some instrument right (‘Aomine you skipped music to read porn mags on the roof’)

(Aomine actually knows how to play the bass! but he didn’t get that instrument he got a trumpet…he did not get any money)

(Kagami is tone deaf. No money for this man)

AND SO, when it was Kurokos turn…he got the violin as his instrument. Kagami and Aomine groaned and picked up their bags to leave, no free ramen today…

WHAT IS THAT MELODY!?

They turn around to see Kuroko fucking shredding the shit out of the violin. The phantom six man looking up at them as he plays with that smug ass grin.

Jaws fucking dropped because what the actually fuck Kuroko you never said you could play an instrument let alone the violin!?!

(They win the money and they eat ramen with the two pestering Kuroko about how long he’s played for, what he can play and why he never told them…‘ you never asked’ *sucks vanilla milkshake obnoxiously*

Which will undoubtedly make Aomine pick Kuroko up, lift him over his shoulder and run back to the music rooms so they can jam together and be totally platonic best friends as they stare into each other’s eyes and finger fuck their respective instrument with the sauciest bed room eyes ever.

(Kagami staring at the bill they left him, because the money Kuroko won does not cover the mountain food him and Aomine eat. He does a dine and dash and never comes back again…he does eventually feel guilty about running out so he sends them a box of the owed amount of money + tip)

Which also then leads to Aomine finding out that…Kuroko can…play…the…electric guitar as well…

(He can barely contain his hormones from jumping a sweaty Kuroko as he plays the neighbourhood, wishing those fingers were inside of hi-)

After that riveting new information (no seriously both Aomine and Kagami woke up from a wild sex dream and sat in silence at the dining table as they sipped on orange juice…’so his fingers’…’yeah’

Everyone else also found out from the miracle group chat, Seirin group chat, the im in love with Kuroko group chat, the group chat without kise. Basically everyone knew about his ability to finger instruments like a god ‘Aomine stop being a perv’

Tattoo enthusiast Kuroko. This boy has the biggest pain tolerance ever. All those times in middle school and high school where he was just knocked the fuck out and bleeding from the head. He would get back up like it was nothing.

Yeah Kuroko was able to sit through tattoos. Didn’t matter where he was getting it done he just didn’t flinch, just sat their as he read through his assigned book.

He has a whole tattoo that fills his back, probably his most expensive, longest and favourite one. He loves the design of the skeleton dragon. Was drawn to it, remembers Kagami being with him as he chose the tattoo.

Kuroko has a few other tattoos on his stomach, legs and arms. He keeps them covered when he’s working or at uni. But at home, out with friends, everyone can see the ink that stains his skin.

The tattoos were apart of finding himself. He never knew what type do person he was. Didn’t have a style or brand that scream him.

It’s why a lot of people are always surprised by the difference between him when he was younger and now. Kuroko was a awkward and had no real sense of style or personality since all his clothes since he was a baby had been chosen for him. As were his choices.

(basketball was the one thing he chose for himself)

Kuroko loved his tattoos. He also loved the dark academic style of clothing. Majority of his wardrobe was brown and neutral toned clothes. Which many would think would clash with his sky blue hair…but even that changed.

Kuroko, much like his name, dyed it black. With streaks of blue in his hair. He liked it. A lot. And so did other people.

*cough cough Aomine cough cough Kagami cough*

Yeah no, Kurokos presence seemed to like do a switch up. He was no longer ignored or looked over, no everyone would be looking at the extremely attractive stranger with porcelain skin and striking blue eyes. The one who was mysterious and talked about the most on campus.

He was no longer someone who needed to be forgotten. Kuroko did not need to hide his emotions. He was not a shadow. He was a light within his own right.

(Kagami had a identity crisis when he saw Kuroko grow out his hair. Actually that’s a lie, he had a sexuality crisis the moment he saw a pale yet muscular back get tattooed. Kurokos lidded eyes looking up at him curiously when he turned redder than his hair…’a-allergies’)

(Aomine was gone since middle school. Weak ass simp only became weaker when he found out about Kurokos tattoos and ability to play the electric guitar and violin)

Skateboarder Kuroko. Well he tries to 🤧 he wouldn’t say he was amazing. But it was something he picked up in his third year of middle school and just continued it. He liked the peace of skating, listening to music as he skated through the parks.

It’s actually how he met Hayama. Before they went against one another in the winter cup back in high school they first met at the skate park. Kuroko had watched as the boy skated on his hands. Why? He just felt more comfortable.

Thus started this weird little once a week meet up at the skatepark. They didn’t have to be anyone, not phantom man or the uncrowned king.

Just Kuroko and Hayama.

They continued to meet up even after beating them at the winter cup. Once Akashi was ‘himself’ again they would all hang out when they could. It’s how everyone found that that the two already knew each other.

This skating partnership lasted all the way up to uni. When they’re free and not busy dying from work or school they will pick a night, go out and skate until their legs burned and hands were all scratched.

Would skate to the nearest maji burger and talk about school and how everyone in their overly large group of fiends were doing.

(Kagami and Aomine hiding down in their seats because no they definitely weren’t stalking Kuroko because they wanted to know why he kept coming back bruised when he said nothing happened and were worried he was caught in shady dealings)

(Kuroko saw them hiding in the bushes at the skatepark. They are not slick. But he doesn’t call them on it, finding it endearingly sweet how they wanted to make sure he was okay…then again they were stalking…)

WOW this really was longer that expected. I actually have way more hcs for Kuroko (and everyone else) but these are just a few of them so far. I had a lot of fun making this heheh, I’m definitely gonna make a pt.2 for Kuroko and then do Kagami and Aomine <33

[welcometogrouchland]

my Stephanie Brown hot take is that she should get mad bitches now that she's single in comics. Yes yes shipping BUT the one time she had sex she was punished by the narrative via teen pregnancy. I think she should be allowed to have as much sex as she wants with zero consequences. Could be a lot of sex, could be a little. Point is she should get to do it without getting narratively baby trapped this time. she should get them pregnant, actually.

[thefandomenchantress]

Even though Liam’s whole misogynistic joke thing is obviously supposed to not be taken all that seriously and just as a running gag, (a running gag that makes a lot of people including myself uncomfortable and that I would rather ignore but still), I think that if Rosy decides to redeem Henry and Liam it’d be hilarious if to make Liam less problematic for the redemption, they made him have character development but it’s 100% offscreen.

But not in ret-con way where it’s not even acknowledged, no no no. Instead someone would say something low-key sexist and Liam would interject like “Woah, that’s not cool man”. And there’s just a beat of silence as the other guys look at him in confusion. And even Henry is like “…What?” but the scene moves on before anyone can ask further questions. And from then on it just happens repeatedly, but every time someone tries to ask what the fuck happened to him he gets cut off before he can elaborate. And so everyone in-universe is just getting increasingly more surprised and puzzled as he does it around more and more characters without elaborating. Sean says to Zander that he thought Zander described this Liam guy a lot differently and Zander, who has completely given up on figuring this out, just dejectedly says that he did, has no fucking clue what happened, and probably never will.

Idk, just a silly idea I came up with because it lets Liam keep his whole ladies’ man archetype, but the comedy comes from the subversion of that archetype and the absurdity of his heel-turn rather than…whatever he has going on now.

[rotting-inkblot]

I wanna write a stalker!barry or stalker!rafe fic and i cant decide which one i want lol- do i wanna write stalker!barry following after Rafe and being my fav horny bastard creep, or do i wanna write stalker!rafe watching Sofia through cameras and tapping her phone to watch her screen activity? decisions decisions.

[sumayyou]

The experience of watching NatsuYuu is either I cry during the episode, or I cry after the episode just thinking about it.

Oh- or both oc, its both a lot of the time🫠💖👍...

[aurorasgate]

you guys im so for real do not accidentally make yourself important at work - i fear have done that enough to the point that im now being moved to a new department on tuesday because they want me & told my manager she didn’t have a say

[sonknuxadow]

please tell me people are joking when they say sonic prime is queerbaiting with sonic and shadow. that is not whats going on here please be serious you guys just see sonic and shadow interact in any way and become unable to turn your shipping brains off

[da-janela-lateral]

Me when the mental illness actually makes me feel bad and uncomfortable and puts problems in my day to day

[lemonhemlock]

it's so frustrating dealing with a friend that seems set on finding imaginary slights against their person and seethes in silence waiting for you to figure out what you did 'wrong' this time 🤦‍♀️

[the-acid-pear]

Need to finish my Dave design so I can draw him with Mori

[smallblueandloud]

feeling weirdly itchy tonight and i don't know why. last time i was weirdly itchy it was a freak allergic reaction but i have taken a zyrtec and i also have No Idea what i would be reacting to since i finished dinner at 7 pm and haven't eaten anything since or touched anything that i haven't touched a million times before.

my best guess is that either i kept my earrings in too long today (i just took them out, for the record) or i'm somehow reacting to the sweater i put on when i got home -- the sweater i've been wearing around my room for like a week. neither of these seem particularly plausible but i literally don't know what else it could be.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[llycaons]

I know this canonically happens in the book but I just can't see cql wx having sex and then spiraling about what it means. I just think they're both so careful with physical touch and it's so meaningful to both of them that they'd really need to come to a mutual understanding before taking that step and neither of them are the type of have casual sex anyway...and also in cql they just don't have the same issues wrt misunderstandings as they do in the book. they're essentially on the same page from the moment lwj finds him and their issues postres center a lot more on wwx focusing on healing from his various tragedies, and their conflicting responsibilities post-temple showdown, than on legitimate miscommunication or hurt feelings between then

[torgawl]

Gojo being back in story made it so boring from a "What's gonna happen next?" perspective. I'm so happy that we're back to seeing what the students have been learning/how they're gonna get through this. That'll always be more interesting and important to me than anything that Gojo could've added to the story.

yeah, i agree so much!!! i think gojo being pushed away in a more definite way really made the cogs start spinning again and shone light that we're finally reaching a resolution point or climax of the story. not that things weren't making sense before but especially taking so long with post unboxing gojo kinda made everything a bit meh and less exciting, at least for me. but i do think it was necessary to build momentum. regardless of how gojo died or regardless if he comes back eventually (still can't shake the rebirth thing completely out of my mind, especially if jjk endgame ends up mirroring jjk 0 and hidden inventory but anyways) i really think this was necessary to push the plot forward. and it makes sense with jjk's themes that a character like gojo isn't the one bringing what's needed now. especially having in consideration everything that has been happening around the kids and other characters that was building up until now and that could only really shine in this sort of scenario. gojo being out of the picture really opens lots of possibilities for other characters and i'm really excited to see what's going to happen. i was always a believer that the kids' generation is the one bringing resolution to the story and i think that's what's going to happen. even if the ending isn't really a happy one, i think seeing the fruit of everyone's effort and journeys is gonna be like the cherry on top. so can't wait to see how everything will turn out :]

[jalluzas-ferney]

I just joined Tik tok again after like an year or smth cuz I wanted to find more edits of my fave shows and for my friends to be able to send my tim tons easier etc etc that’s not my point.

I noticed that the Ninjago community there hates Euphrasia WAYY too much 😭😭 and it’s getting very fucking annoying 💀💀

LIKE 😭😭 Why are are they calling her a “pick me girl” 😭😭 WHAT DID SHE EVEN DO💀💀 Everyone just pissed that “she’s replacing Morro” and it’s so annoying cuz- Morro fucking died 💀 it’s over 😭😭 look I dunno if when he died again he went to the departed realm or just disappears out of the phase of the earth but he wasn’t gonna keep his power anyways 😭😭 that’s just how it works 🦭..and if the case is that he went to the departed realm and there’s a chance for him to come back- then ok??? He’ll come back without his elemental power??? 😭 But then again I really doubt he would come back and y’all r simply gonna have to deal w that. Iike when an elemental master dies their power goes to someone else period. You can’t expect him to keep that damn power forever 😭😭 and it makes much more sense since it’s a new series- new generation of elemental masters. It’s not that surprising that they decided to find a new Wind master.

AND STOP CALLING HER PICK ME WHY DOES EVERYONE CALL HER PICK ME GIRL😭😭 srs what did she even do other than exist and just have morros “ex” elemental power😟

[kthologue]

operation: get over your childhood crush! — gojo satoru

synopsis. in an attempt to move on from your childhood best friend—who definitely doesn’t see you the way you want—you hatch a series of plans to help you get over him. it doesn't go as planned.

contents. hurt/comfort, fluff, nerd!gojo, college au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, unreliable narrator, miscommunication, insecurity, dorky references bc u make him go dumb and digimon inaccuracies probably

notes. i did not proofread this monster!! enjoy :P

The hum of the air conditioning fills the room as night settles in, the light from Satoru’s bedside lamp casting a soft glow over his mess of a room. You’re both sprawled out across his bed, limbs entangled like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Because, for the two of you, it is.

Satoru’s Nintendo Switch is balanced on his stomach, hands lazily tapping away as his little Digimon charges into battle on screen. You’re curled into his side, one leg hooked around his and a blanket thrown haphazardly across you both. The half-abandoned textbooks sit at the edge of the mattress, tragically ignored. Another study session: failed. Not that Satoru needed it. He passed everything with flying colors. It was more of an excuse for you to come over.

“Your room still smells like that cheap vanilla air freshener,” you mumble, nose scrunching.

“That’s because you bought it,” he replies without looking up, thumb expertly guiding his character through an attack.

“Because your room would end up stinking with sweat and whatever freaky stuff you do in here.”

“Hey!” He whines. “I shower everyday and you know it. The stink is all you. Have you ever sniffed yourself, princess?”

You swat at his stomach, and he lets out a dramatic grunt. “Rude. I brought that candle to add ambiance.”

“Ah yes,” he deadpans, “nothing like artificial sugar scent.’”

You snort, settling your head back down on his shoulder, the fabric of his hoodie soft beneath your cheek. There’s a long pause before you say, “You know, if we fail our exams, I’m blaming your Digimon addiction.”

He grins. “I’m raising digital warriors, thank you very much. And I’ve never failed an exam, don’t wound me now!”

“They look like mutant toddlers with attitude problems.”

He gasps, clutching his heart. “They’re champions, you monster.”

You laugh, letting the sound dissolve into something quieter as your fingers absentmindedly trace a pattern into the blanket. His hand rests near yours. Not holding it. Not not holding it.

His glasses are tilted again. Of course.

You reach up and straighten them with a sigh. “Honestly, you’d be lost without me.”

“Not true.” He says it reflexively, then pauses. His voice softens. “Okay, maybe. I’d probably just let them slide down until I walked into a wall.”

You smile faintly. “And there’d be no one there to patch you up.”

“Tragic,” he agrees. “Would bleed out on the floor, probably.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re so bossy,” he counters, shooting you a sideways look. 

“Admit it,” he says, voice full of faux-smugness, “you’d miss me if I died tragically and left you all alone.”

You hesitate for a second too long before mumbling, “Don’t joke about that.”

It’s quiet. The game music loops in the background as his Digimon wins the battle with a triumphant fanfare.

He doesn’t say anything.

You suddenly feel too warm under the blanket. The joke had been harmless, stupid even.

But something inside you twists, the same something that’s been unraveling lately every time he mentions another girl.

Another type. That’s not you.

“You know,” you say slowly, eyes peeling from the screen to his phone, which lights up with a notification, revealing one of his favorite gravure model’s latest issues as its wallpaper. “You could probably date any girl you wanted. Why do you partake in freak stuff like this? It’s anti-girl repellent.”

He makes a noncommittal sound. “Doubt it.”

“I don’t. You’ve got that whole genius-who-doesn’t-realize-he’s-hot thing going on.”

He glances at you, skeptical. “Is that… a thing?”

“It is. Annoying, but effective. Girls love it.”

He hums, clearly amused, cheeks slightly flushed. “Well, good to know I have options.”

You try to laugh, but it catches in your throat.

You shouldn’t ask. You really shouldn’t.

But you’re lying in his bed. Wrapped up in him like you belong here. And some part of you aches to know the answer.

So you pretend it’s a joke. You tilt your head against his shoulder, voice airy, teasing. “Hey, be honest—do you think I’m cute?”

He goes still.

His hand tightens slightly on the Switch. You think you’ve pushed too far, so you try to backpedal before he can respond.

“Not like… like that,” you say quickly. “I just meant, like, in general. Compared to those girls you’re into. Say, Waka Inoue. You know, long legs, shiny hair, cute face?”

His jaw tightens.

You’re still trying to play it off. “I mean, I’m not fishing for compliments. I just—was wondering. Curiosity. Science.”

He finally turns to look at you.

His gaze lingers. And for the first time all night, he’s not smiling.

You feel your breath stutter in your throat underneath his gaze.

Then he shrugs.

“…Nah.”

It slices through the air with quiet finality.

Your heart drops. You don’t let it show. Not fully. But it must flicker in your face, because he quickly looks away.

You laugh. It sounds forced.

“Yeah, that’s fair. I mean, I wasn’t expecting a yes or anything.”

He’s silent.

You shift away from him slightly, giving him space. “I should head home soon. We didn’t really get any studying done, anyway.”

“It’s late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Usually, you’d accept his offer with a smile, but you really wanted to go home and wallow in your own self pity.

“It’s fine, I have something to do anyway,” the lie slips out of your mouth easily as you begin to pack your things.

And you miss the way he watches you—guilt in his eyes, frustration on his tongue. 

You knew it was time. Ten years of hopeless, fruitless pining had done enough damage to your heart.

It had started the day your parents moved next door. Satoru had been the loud, obnoxious, too-pretty-for-his-own-good boy on the playground who shoved candy in your hand and asked if you wanted to be friends.

You’d been doomed since day one.

And to make things worse, you’d both gotten into Japan’s most competitive university—together. Same neighborhood. Same school. Same train route. You weren’t just stuck with him. You were haunted.

But you were young. And hot. And allegedly in your prime. You couldn’t keep orbiting around a guy who still thought microwave gyoza was a food group and used your shampoo because it “smelled like you, so why not?”

You were sipping coffee with your two closest friends, and today’s topic was—unfortunately—your love life.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’ve been stuck on Gojo for this long,” Utahime said, disgusted, as she stirred her latte like it personally offended her. “You could do so much better.”

“It was kind of cute in high school,” Shoko added “but now it’s just sad.”

You sighed, blowing on your drink. “I know, okay? It’s not like I haven’t tried. But he’s literally the only guy I’ve ever been close to. I don’t even talk to guys besides him.”

“That’s because he’s been gatekeeping you since the two of you met,” Utahime said flatly. “I swear, every time someone so much as glanced at you, he pulled that overprotective act.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That doesn’t sound like ’Toru…”

Shoko and Utahime exchanged a look. One of those knowing glances.

Utahime cleared her throat. “It doesn’t matter! What matters is you are hot. You’ve got the face, the body, the grades, the personality. You just need the confidence.”

You peeked up at her, unsure. “You really think so?”

Utahime leaned forward, smirking like she’d just won a war. “I know so. And that’s why I’ve come up with a plan.”

You narrowed your eyes. “A plan?”

She slammed her hands down on the table, eyes alight. “Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru.”

You blinked. “That’s… a long title.”

Shoko blew a slow stream of smoke. “It’s either this or pine until you die and haunt him as a love-sick ghost.”

You stared into your cup, sighing. “Fine. I’m in. What’s step one?”

Utahime grinned.

“Whatcha doing?” 

Gojo’s voice drifts lazily over your shoulder, followed by the soft rustle of his hoodie as he leans in. He’s far too close, obnoxiously so, his breath tickling your ear and his chin was nearly resting on your shoulder.

You don’t even glance up. “Studying.”

The two of you are supposed to be studying— finals loom overhead like a guillotine, but as usual, very little academic progress has been made. Mostly because your study partner is a six-foot-something genius who insists on sitting sideways in the booth, long legs tangled in yours under the table like it’s second nature.

He hums, skeptical. “Liar.”

You hum noncommittally, thumbing through the dating app Utahime suggested with vague disinterest. The guys blur together: not tall enough, too cocky, too bland, too not Satoru. One makes a joke suspiciously close to a Gojo classic, and you immediately hit unmatch with a scowl.

“Wait,” Satoru says slowly. “Are you on a dating app?!” He practically yells the last part. Half the cafe turns to glare at the source of the disruption.

You hiss under your breath, mortified, swatting at him. “Keep your voice down, idiot!”

His eyes widen dramatically, hands thrown up like you’ve stabbed him. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you’re already planning a life with someone named ‘Keita, aspiring DJ and spiritual healer’? I’m wounded.”

“You weren’t supposed to read that far.”

“I’m a speed-reader,” he says with a smug grin. “It’s part of the whole ‘genius’ thing.”

Before you can argue, he snatches your phone with a level of ease that tells you this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. He grins like he’s won a prize.

“Satoru!”

“Relax, I’m not texting anyone,” he says, fingers flying across the screen. “Just… optimizing.”

Your heart drops. “What are you typing?”

“Nothing~”

You make a grab for your phone, but he effortlessly leans back, holding it above his head with those ridiculously long limbs. You glare at him from across the table, arm outstretched like a furious cat trying to swat at the moon.

“Give it back!”

“Patience.”

“Gojo Satoru—”

“Okay, okay!” he relents with a dramatic sigh, finally placing your phone face-down on the table like he’s done you a huge favor.

You snatch it up immediately, eyes scanning for damage. No weird messages. No unsolicited likes. No new matches.

“…What did you do?”

“I didn’t message anyone,” he assures, too innocent to be trusted. “I’m not that cruel.”

You narrow your eyes, suspicious.

“But,” he adds with a grin, “I didn’t know you were dating.”

“I’m not,” you mutter, clicking your phone off. “Just… considering it. Trying. It’s not going well.”

“Good.”

The word comes out too fast. Too sharp. And his face doesn’t match the light tone he’s trying to play off.

You raise an eyebrow. “Good?”

He shifts, leaning back in his seat, suddenly very interested in stirring the foam in his overpriced coffee. “I mean, it’s good you’re not settling. You should be picky. Guys are the worst.”

You snort. “You are a guy.”

“Exactly. I know what we’re like.”

You smile despite yourself, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure you think you’re the exception.”

“I know I am,” he says, winking. Then he sobers slightly, eyes flickering to yours. “I’m just… looking out for you.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You wish it was more than just him being protective in that big-brotherly, annoyingly loyal kind of way.

You take a sip of your coffee to cool your nerves. It doesn’t help. The words come out before you can stop them.

“You know with the way things are going… maybe you should just date me at this point.”

Silence.

It’s a joke. Supposed to be. But the second it leaves your lips, it tastes real.

Gojo freezes.

You panic. “I didn’t mean—like, I was just joking—”

But he turns toward you, eyes unreadable behind the fringe of snowy white hair. “Maybe I should.”

You blink.

And then, with infuriating ease, he grins.

“Anyway,” he says quickly, swiping your phone from the table again before you can stop him, “Yuto here looks like the type to ghost you after three dates and a karaoke duet. You can do better.”

You gape at him, completely thrown off, your heart slamming in your chest.

You don’t even notice what he’s done until later—until you get home and open your app to find that your bio has been changed.

Taken. Mentally married to a nerd since birth.

You want to scream.

Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru?

Yeah. Not going great.

Not at all.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to it.

Maybe it was the look in Utahime’s eyes—determined, dangerous, hopeful. Maybe it was Shoko promising she wouldn’t let you walk out of her apartment looking like a clown. Maybe it was the quiet part of you that wanted to see yourself through someone else’s eyes. Someone who wasn’t Gojo Satoru.

“Today,” Utahime had declared, curling the last strand of your hair like she was threading a spell, “is the first day of your Gojo-less future”

You laughed nervously, tugging at the hem of your skirt. It wasn’t your usual style—not the dewy makeup you weren’t used to seeing in the mirror, not the new haircut that made your eyes look almost too bright, not the blouse that left your shoulders bare in a way that made you feel strangely noticed.

But when you caught your reflection, your heart fluttered. You looked… beautiful.

When you stepped onto campus, the sun was out, the wind teasing the edge of your coat. You spotted him immediately—Gojo, slouched against the wall outside your lecture hall, nose buried in his Switch as he muttered something under his breath about evolving stats and attack modifiers.

He didn’t notice you at first.

Then he looked up.

His game froze mid-battle. His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, like someone had unplugged his brain.

“Wha—” he said eloquently. “Wh—what did you do.”

You blinked. “Hi to you too.”

He stared, unabashed. His glasses were slightly crooked, his ears glowing scarlet. He looked like someone had just told him Digimon was real and living in your shoes.

He blinked. “You look like… like you skipped two evolution stages overnight. Straight to Mega. Like if Angewomon fused with… I don’t know, some kind of rare, limited-release goddess-type Digimon that only spawns on a lunar eclipse.”

You blinked.

Utahime’s voice in your head: You’re hot. Unstoppable. He’s going to be speechless.

And Gojo was. But not in the way you wanted.

You tried to laugh. “So I look like a cartoon?”

“A beautiful cartoon,” he said, serious now. “Like the kind of boss character they only show for two frames because animating her costs too much.”

Your heart stuttered. It was the sort of compliment only Gojo could give: clumsy and dorky, yet brilliant in its own way.

But the moment passed.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, sunglasses slipping slightly as he muttered, “You just… you look different. That’s all.”

Different.

Not better. Not prettier.

Just different.

You swallowed. “Yeah, well. Thought I’d try something new.”

“I didn’t say it was bad,” he added quickly, but the words felt unsure. Flimsy.

“I should… use the restroom,” you mumbled, turning before he could say anything else.

In the bathroom, you stared at your reflection. Your lipstick looked too bold now. Your lashes too heavy. Despite the change, you were still painfully you— the you Gojo teased during study sessions, the one he let borrow his hoodie when it rained, the one who sat next to him during endless all-nighters. And maybe that was the problem. You weren’t like those girls on the magazines. 

What you didn’t see, what you couldn’t see, was Gojo still standing outside the lecture hall, staring after you, Switch forgotten, game over screen blinking on the screen.

He didn’t even notice.

“You good, Satoru?” Shoko asked, walking by.

He blinked. “I think I just saw my best friend… and my final boss… and my future wife… all at once.”

Shoko snorted. “You’re a dork.”

Gojo just sighed, shoulders slumping as he muttered, “I’m so doomed.”

It’s a mild Friday evening when you meet him—Kazuya, the guy from your psychology class. He’s polite, articulate, and kind of cute. The kind of guy who asks if you prefer cats or dogs before ordering his drink, and actually listens when you answer.

Utahime and Shoko had insisted you say yes. “A change of pace,” they called it. “You need a baseline. Not every guy is going to be Gojo Satoru.”

Exactly. That was the point.

You’re sipping a matcha latte and nodding along as Kazuya explains his thesis on cognitive development when a very familiar voice cuts through the air.

“Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here.”

Your stomach drops. You look up, and sure enough—

Satoru.

In all his tall, obnoxiously eye-catching glory, wearing a white t-shirt that was inside out and a grin like he just won the lottery. He's holding a bottle of ramune and standing directly next to your table, like he’s been there the whole time.

You blink. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Thirsty. Wanted a drink.”

“At this café? On this side of campus?”

“Yeah,” he says, tone innocent. “Weird coincidence, huh?”

Kazuya offers a polite smile. “You’re her friend, right? Gojo?”

“Oh, best friend. Lifelong. Practically her shadow.” He plops into the empty seat beside you without asking, casually tossing his ramune onto the table. “What’s your name again? Kaname?”

“…Kazuya.”

“Right, right. I always mix those up. You look like a Kaname, though. Or maybe a Yusuke.”

You stare at him, incredulous. “Satoru—”

But he’s already leaning over, squinting at the book tucked under Kazuya’s arm. “Ooh, Piaget. Bold move. Love that for you.”

Kazuya blinks. “Do you… like developmental theory?”

“I like being correct,” Gojo says with a cheeky smile. “Also, [Name] hates Piaget. She called him ‘the Freud of toddlers’ last semester.”

Kazuya turns to you in mild surprise. “Really?”

“I—I mean, yeah,” you mumble. “Sort of.”

Gojo beams. “Told you.”

Kazuya makes a valiant effort to steer the conversation back to safe, neutral ground.

“So, you mentioned you're interested in behaviorism, right?” he says, offering a gentle smile. “I thought Dr. Takeda's lecture on conditioned responses was kind of fascinating—”

“Oh, riveting,” Satoru cuts in, lounging back in his chair like he owns the café. “Nothing like bonding over Pavlov’s dogs to spark romance. Did she tell you she cried during Inside Out because the depiction of core memories was ‘psychologically resonant’? Real charmer, this one.”

You shoot Satoru a look. “I was twelve!”

Kazuya blinks, trying not to smile. “I actually thought that was pretty moving, too.”

“Wow,” Satoru deadpans. “A match made in neuroscience.”

Kazuya laughs politely and continues, undeterred. “So, uh, any research plans after graduation?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Satoru beats you to it again.

“She used to want to be a vet. Cried when she had to dissect a frog in middle school. Tragic day.”

“Is that true?” Kazuya turns to you, amused now.

“Technically, yes,” you mutter into your drink.

By the time your cup is empty, you realize you’ve laughed more at Satoru’s interjections than you have at anything Kazuya’s said. Not because Kazuya wasn’t interesting—he was. He was calm, thoughtful, well-read, and clearly trying. But next to Satoru, whose entire presence seemed impossible to ignore, Kazuya didn’t stand a chance.

Still, to his credit, Kazuya maintains a steady, if slightly strained, expression as he sets down his cup and finally says, carefully,

“So… is Gojo your boyfriend?”

The question hangs awkwardly.

You and Satoru answer at the same time.

“No,” you say quickly.

“Yes,” he says with a smile.

You both turn to stare at each other.

“I mean—no,” he corrects, waving his hands. “Just a joke. Hah. Obviously.”

Kazuya blinks. “Right.”

You can’t meet either of their eyes. Your drink is finished, your palms are damp, and the café is suddenly too warm, too small. You push back your chair and stand.

“I should go. Early lab meeting tomorrow.” It’s the weakest excuse, but neither of them calls you on it.

Kazuya stands too, polite as ever. “Thanks for meeting up. You seem like a really cool person.” He hesitates, then adds, gently, “I just think maybe you’ve already got someone.”

You freeze. You open your mouth, then close it again. There’s nothing to say.

Outside, the cold air kisses your cheeks like a reminder. It stings a little, or maybe that’s just the confusion burning in your chest.

Satoru’s already waiting for you. Of course he is. He’s leaning against the lamppost, silver hair catching in the wind. But his eyes are downcast, trained on the sidewalk.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Neither do you.

You exhale, watching your breath curl white in the air. “You didn’t have to crash it, y’know.”

“I didn’t crash,” he replies without looking at you. “I was invited.”

“By who?”

“Fate. Karma. The gods of poor decision-making.” He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, but it tugs a laugh from you anyway. Stupid, annoying, charming Gojo.

“So,” he says after a beat, nudging your arm gently with his elbow, “how’d it go?”

You glance at him. He still won’t meet your gaze. His lips are pursed like he’s holding back a hundred words and none of them are funny.

“He was nice,” you admit. Despite being rudely interrupted by the white haired idiot beside you.

“Nice is boring,” he mutters, kicking at a loose stone on the pavement.

You laugh, soft and tired. “You’re the worst.”

He finally looks at you then, lips quirking into that smug, too-knowing smile. “But you like me anyway.”

You look away, cheeks burning, heart thudding like a traitor in your chest.

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

Despite Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru failing in every imaginable way, things were starting to feel… bearable.

Almost good, even.

Satoru still hovered a little too close, always with that same half-smile like he knew something you didn’t. And maybe, just maybe— his constant sabotage, the teasing, the jealousy, the way he looked at you like he was about to say something important but never did… maybe it all meant something.

You let yourself believe it, just a little.

And that was your first mistake.

It happens quietly, without fanfare or warning. Just a throwaway line between sips of lukewarm coffee and the soft shuffle of paper. You’re both at your usual spot in the library, surrounded by open notebooks and highlighted packets, pretending to study more than you actually are.

You’re halfway through underlining a term in your psychology notes when Satoru leans back in his chair, stretches like a cat, and says—far too casually:

“So, guess who asked me out?”

You hum absentmindedly. “Who?”

“Ayane.”

The name hits you like a slap.

You freeze, highlighter paused mid-sentence. “…Ayane? From the biochem track?”

“Yeah,” he says, practically glowing. “You know her, right? She's in your study group sometimes.”

You do know her. Of course you do. Everyone knows her.

She’s beautiful, with this effortless, clean kind of elegance—long legs, perfect posture, and that quiet, poised confidence that makes professors adore her and guys fall over themselves. The kind of girl who posts one blurry bookshelf photo and still racks up a thousand likes. The kind of girl Gojo always jokes about marrying.

But he’s not joking now. He’s beaming.

“She asked me out to dinner this Friday. She’s so smart, too—I didn’t even have to pretend to know what quantum entanglement was. It’s wild.” He laughs, brushing a hand through his hair. “I thought she’d never go for a guy like me, y’know?”

You force a laugh. “A guy like you?”

“Yeah. I dunno. Too much, I guess? But she said I was ‘refreshing.’” He grins. 

Your stomach sinks.

This is what you thought you wanted—for him to move on, so you could finally do the same. For Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru to succeed, for real this time.

But now that it’s happening, it feels like someone’s slowly pulling your ribs apart.

“Oh,” you manage, smiling like you’ve practiced it. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

He doesn’t notice the way your voice cracks on happy. He just keeps talking, rambling about restaurant reservations and how she likes contemporary poetry and used to live in France. You nod in all the right places, but your thoughts are already slipping away.

Because it isn’t just that he’s going out with someone else.

It’s that he chose her.

Her with her flawless skin and quiet charm and the kind of beauty that doesn’t need to try. Her, with everything you’re not. And more than that, it’s that he made you believe you could have meant more to him—when really, he’d been searching for someone else all along.

You excuse yourself early, mumbling something about laundry.

He doesn’t follow.

You don’t cry until you’re halfway home, the cold air biting at your cheeks as your vision blurs.

For the first time in years, you don’t text him goodnight.

You don’t wait for a meme. Or a dumb joke. Or his usual, “Hey, genius. Sleep.”

You go silent.

And when he texts the next day, you don’t reply.

You skip your library meet-up. You don’t sit next to him in class. You even duck into the stairwell when you see his ridiculous white hair from across campus.

It’s not because you’re mad. It’s because you’re heartbroken.

And you can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter—that he doesn’t matter.

You weren’t just losing your best friend.

You were losing the love of your life.

And he didn’t even notice.

It takes him three days to notice you’re gone.

Well—no. That’s a lie.

He notices immediately. The moment your usual seat in the library stays empty. When your laugh doesn’t echo in the café line. When your name doesn’t pop up on his screen at 2AM with some stupid meme captioned, “this reminded me of you, idiot.”

But he tells himself you’re busy.

Midterms, right? Stress. Coffee. You get like this sometimes, and he gets it. He really does.

So he waits. Tells himself not to be clingy.

But then Friday comes.

And he's sitting across from Ayane in some expensive, quiet restaurant where the napkins are folded like origami cranes and the water tastes filtered. She’s telling him about her research internship in Osaka, about enzymes and international grants, and all he can think is—

You’d be making fun of me right now.

You’d be kicking him under the table. Whispering some dumb pun about digimon. You’d be pulling faces every time he tried to pronounce the items on the menu. You’d be… you.

Ayane is lovely.

But she doesn’t laugh when he says something stupid. She just smiles politely.

She doesn’t ask about why his glasses are always crooked (it’s so you could fix them). Doesn’t tease him for double-knotting his laces like a paranoid grandma. Doesn’t call him “Sato” like it’s some private joke only the two of you get.

He walks her home. Thanks her for a nice evening.

Then he goes to the convenience store. Alone.

And he sees your favorite snack on the shelf and buys two out of habit.

He stares at his phone the entire train ride back.

No new messages.

Just the last one you sent days ago:

“Laundry. Rain check?”

And nothing since.

He waits. Another day. Then two.

You don’t show up to class again.

You don’t like his latest meme.

You don’t comment on the Digimon pun he texted you out of desperation.

You are silent.

And Satoru Gojo—brilliant, blind-sighted, the golden boy of theoretical physics, always five steps ahead—realizes, too late, that he’s been a fool.

That he didn’t just lose a study partner.

He lost the one person who knew him better than he knew himself.

The one person he couldn’t replace with rare Digimon pulls, half-solved physics equations, or overly sweet desserts.

And for the first time since he was a kid—

He’s afraid.

It’s been a little over a week.

A little over a week since Gojo Satoru has heard your voice. Since you shoved your coffee at him without asking, muttering “too sweet for me” when you really meant “I got this for you.” Since you poked fun at his stupid sock choices, or knocked your foot against his under the table like it was nothing.

And Satoru is suffering.

He's tried everything. Showed up to your house with excuses too weak to be called plans (“Hey, I brought your favorite snacks. I just... figured maybe you forgot you liked them?”). Waited outside your lecture hall until a security guard asked if he was lost. Took detours between classes hoping to catch a glimpse of your ponytail, your laugh, anything.

But you were always one step ahead.

You stopped answering his texts. Blocked him on that stupid dating app (which—ouch, even though you hadn’t used it seriously). You didn’t even show up to the library anymore. And even Shoko started looking at him with thinly veiled pity and a “you really fumbled the bag” look in her eyes.

Gojo Satoru is… just tired.

Miserable.

So when he finally finds you—not because he’s chasing you down this time, but because he’s walking the long way home, and there you are, sitting on the old swings at the park where you first met—it knocks the wind out of him.

You don’t look surprised to see him. Just... tired too.

“I figured you’d find me eventually,” you say quietly.

He swallows. His hands curl at his sides like he’s preparing for a fight.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. “Why?”

You look away. “You’re smart. Figure it out.”

Gojo looks down at his feet.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and stinging. The playground is empty except for the wind dragging a soda can down the sidewalk and the faint creak of the swing chain.

Then he exhales, ragged and unsure. “Look, I can’t—I can’t take this anymore.”

You glance up.

“I can’t either.”

Hope flares too fast, too naive in his chest. His shoulders drop like he’s been holding up the world. “That’s good,” he breathes, stepping forward. “Because the silent treatment—God, I thought I was going to—”

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

The words stop him cold.

“What?” he breathes.

You laugh, but it’s hollow. Like something already broken. “Don’t you get it? I can’t be friends with you and pretend that nothing’s changed. That I’m okay just being your best friend. I’ve been in love with you for years, Satoru.”

His heart stutters. You don’t stop.

“And I love myself too much to keep hurting for someone who doesn’t even look at me that way.” Your voice cracks, but you push through. “Do you know how humiliating it feels? To love someone so much it aches, and still feel like you’ll never be enough?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You never even thought I was cute.”

He looks like he’s been hit.

“I’ve been chasing scraps. Leftovers. Mixed signals and stupid inside jokes. I—I can’t do it anymore.”

You finally meet his eyes, and that’s when he sees it: the hurt you’ve been hiding behind every smile, every brush-off, every joke you cracked to keep the silence from swallowing you.

And for once, Gojo Satoru can’t find a single thing to say.

Not yet.

Not until he stops you from walking away.

“Where did you get an idea like that?” His cerulean eyes search yours desperately. “I-I don’t think you’re just cute, are you kidding?” he blurts, eyes wild.

“Y-you’re breathtaking! Everything I’ve dreamt of and more! That night when you asked me if I thought you were cute, I only said no because it would be a divine crime to reduce to such. All of my fantasies have been centered around you since we first met on that playground—since you tripped over your shoelaces trying to race me to the monkey bars!”

Your breath catches.

He continues, desperate now, like every second of silence might kill him.

“I love you! And not like a brother. Like—I want to marry you. Like, small wedding in Okinawa, barefoot on the beach, you wearing that soft blue dress you like. I already planned it. Our firstborn would be a daughter, with your eyes, my hair. She’d be the boss of the house.”

You gape.

“Wait—”

“I’m not done!” he says, hands thrown up. “Then we’d have twins. Boys. Chaos gremlins. One would look like my twin and the other yours, and they’d absolutely terrorize us—but their sister keeps them in check, she’s fierce like you.”

You blink. A tear slides down your cheek.

“I want to move to Kyoto,” he says, softer now. “Buy a house with a dumb little garden. Grow tomatoes we’ll never eat. Live out the rest of our lives where it’s quiet.”

You cover your mouth, stunned. “You… really thought all that out?”

“It’s easy,” he breathes, “when all I can think about is you.”

He steps closer. The wind tugs his white hair into his eyes, but he doesn’t blink.

“I go to study nonlinear quantum field theory and all I see is your face. I try to cool off and play Digimon, and even that’s ruined—my lineup is garbage now! I only keep the ones you said were cute!”

A laugh bubbles out of you, fragile and watery.

“You idiot,” you murmur.

“I am,” he nods solemnly. “I’m the world’s biggest idiot. And I’m in love with you.”

Another tear slips down. He wipes it away before you can.

“Is it too late?” he asks, voice cracking slightly. “Please tell me it’s not too late.”

You stare at him—this man, this brilliant, ridiculous, loyal boy who had held your heart long before you ever admitted it.

“It’s not too late,” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak. Just steps closer. Gently and carefully, like he's handling something sacred, he cups your cheek in his hand.

Your nose bumps his. His breath ghosts over your lips.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for years,” he whispers.

And then, finally, he kisses you.

It’s not perfect, your cheeks are still wet, his nose bumps yours again, and his hand trembles just a little, but it’s warm and sweet and soft. It tastes like home. Like every unanswered question finally getting its answer.

When he pulls away, his smile is sheepish. “So… are we still doing the whole ‘Operation: Get Over Gojo’ thing, or?”

You laugh, heart full, forehead pressed to his.

“Mission failed,” you whisper.

He grins. “Good.”

And then he kisses you again.

art by leimiruu on x!