#small yuji thought to ease back into writing

[astralstarlight]

"Come here." Yuji slips a hand onto the small of your back and tries to bring you next to him instead of letting you trail along behind him. The crowd surrounding you doesn't let him.

"You okay?" You mumble, somehow managing to bump your shoulder against his. You're used to Yuji's doting by now, but he's strangely focused on you today.

He doesn't respond. The noise of the crowd seems to disappear into the background as you catch sight of his facial expression — a tenseness between his brows and a vacant look in his eyes, plus he's not even looking in your direction. It's a sign that he's been running on autopilot with you for at least the past ten minutes. You curse yourself for not noticing it sooner.

You try again. "Yuji?"

"Huh?" He turns back to meet your gaze. Whatever internal stress he's been working through is replaced quickly with a smile. You wouldn't have known he was faking if you hadn't caught his facial expression before. How many times have you missed something like this? "Just don't want to lose you in the crowd!" He says cheerfully, curling his hand into your shirt and then splaying his fingers out repeatedly. A nervous action. One of many that you're still figuring out.

"Yuji." You say, managing to guide him through the crowd to a quieter corner. "Are you okay?"

He hesitates and his gaze shifts from your face to a spot behind you. "Mm."

"That's not an answer."

"I know, I know! I'm just thinking."

"About?"

Yuji shrugs his shoulders, shifting his gaze away.

Don't do this. You want to say. Please burden me with whatever it is you're worried about. Please don't—

It feels difficult to swallow. "Do you want to just go watch a movie instead?"

"No way!" His eyes are wide, almost panicked. "You've been wanting to go to that dessert place forever."

Shaking your head, you reach forward and cup his cheeks between your palms, squishing slightly so that he's forced to look at you. "And it'll still be there tomorrow, and hopefully, the day after." You pause, whispering your next words. "Not asking for me right now, Yuji. Do you want to go today? Right now?"

He seems to deflate slightly at your question, but hesitantly and so slowly, he shakes his head. You catch his eyes flicker and you know he's about to come up with an apology, churned from the guilt he feels from burdening you with this, and perhaps, for wrenching away whatever happy moment he thinks he's stolen away from you.

"Okay." You say, simply.

Sometimes it's impossible to tell what he's thinking. Sometimes he gets very quiet and vulnerable. Being constantly loud and friendly covers that stark difference a bit too obviously. It's at times like this that you wish you could say the words directly into his brain so he gets it quicker.

I'm here. I'm here. Yuji, focus. I'm here. There's only so much you can do.

"Let's go." You murmur, sliding your hand into his.

This will have to do.

[iid-smile]

handsy , itadori yuji

x gn!reader ! cuddling in the cold, itadori touches your buttocks, he calls you hot, that's it really...

author's note: um i had this idea in my head but i didnt know who to write for also kinda rushed because i cba

"baby..." itadori's voice is severely muffled from his lips being pressed against your neck. "it's cold."

you're both facing each other in bed, his arms securely wrapped around your waist and yours just resting on his chest. though it's september, it's not usual for the temperature to drop in such a sudden way.

it's a weird contrast, the way it's so cold outside while it's so warm under the blanket. it makes you want to shrink further into it, but your boyfriend's presence just makes you a tad more reluctant to even move at all.

with only a small hum coming from you, your fingers fiddle with his hoodie strings. it only takes a short time for him to get sulky when you don't respond with words, so you mumble back. "i know, that's why we're cuddling."

he wiggles his legs a bit, which are already tangled with yours. you were half bracing yourself for him to be cold to the touch, but he's just warm. he's always so warm.. how? "it's colddd..." he complains again.

his arms around you tighten a bit, making it slightly harder to breathe, but you know that he just does it subconsciously. "i want hot chocolate.." he murmurs.

by chance, you manage to pick up on his words, your arms moving to wrap around his neck. "you already had some, yuji." shifting closer, you rest your head close to his. not to close that your cheeks are touching, not too far that you can see each other.

itadori remains silent, a small huff coming from him, like he knows better than to argue with you. he's so clingy. and a baby, sometimes. he's acting like you didn't feed him the most filling dinner ever. his favourite too! and hot chocolate on top of that? he should know that's enough. but that pouting expression gets to your weak heart, so you shift around a bit.

you could hear him softly groan, likely from the way your legs move to intertwine with his more, and the way your body heat is now pushed directly up against his. with ease, he nuzzles his face further into your shoulder, hiding it completely. "mhm..." he hums, and you can feel the vibrations of it against your skin.

your fingers curl around his messy locks, and you admire the seemingly natural pink colour as best you can with the minimal light. "mhm what?" you inquire, confused since you didn't ask him a question.

"nevermind the hot chocolate..." his voice is barely comprehensible. "i got something hot right here."

"...you need to specify."

"i mean it both ways. you're hot, and you're hot."

you can only sigh, rolling your eyes. if you didn't find his stupid comments so adorable, and charming, you would've thrown a pillow at him. but unfortunately since you're cuddling, you just allow the cheesy comments to slip by. like usual.

"i hate you." you mutter.

he only responds with a chuckle. "no, you love me."

"i do..." you sigh again. his arms around you loosen up slightly, and one of his hands starts roaming a little.

it's quiet for a while, after itadori's giddy chuckles of course. despite how dark it is, you struggle to keep your eyes closed, feeling your eyelids shake whenever you try, as if you're tense. the only view you really have is his hair shoved in your face, but either way, you don't mind.

being the handsy guy he is, there's not a single spot where he hasn't touched you. shoulder, back, hips, waist, thighs, everywhere. a little thought in your head was telling you they were destined to end up elsewhere, and you're surprised it hasn't happened yet.

or maybe you spoke too soon.

you can feel both of his hands move down to your behind, holding them there like he would if he was carrying you. in feigned annoyance, your lips purse a bit, not that he'd be able to see it anyway. "that's my butt."

itadori giggles, almost sounding snarky in nature. "mhm. your butt." he gives it a light squeeze in emphasis, before starting to rub it with his thumbs. the action is so simple, yet to you it feels so... intimate, loving. in a way that sends a little heat to your cheeks with a red hue that would definitely be visible.

but of course, you let it slide.

there's a few moments of silence that pass, and you're left almost thinking he fell asleep. but his gentle words soon break it, and his one of his hands finds yours, gripping lightly. "i love you... a lot..." he mumbles again, but the words are a lot more clearer this time, and a lot more sincere. a common practice of his that he does right before he drifts off to sleep.

"i love you too. a lot." you whisper back, shuffling as close as you can get to him.

[chososlilprincess]

last part of virgin!Choso<3 (im gonna write more for him tho, just in other scenarios!!) other parts here: part 1 part 2 part 4

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

Virgin Choso who stands on his small balcony, looking over the city, a grey cloud creeping out between his lips.

Choso had taken up smoking. He’d asked Leiri about it when he’d seen her doing it, and she’d told him it helped her to relax. he’d bought a pack right after that. The first couple of times he’d coughed the smoke out. But now he does it smoothly, inhaling and exhaling the smoke with no problem. It makes him feel at ease even just for a moment, and lord knows he needs it right now. Humans are fucking weird he thinks, they’d jepordize their health for a little break from their troubles. Guess that doesnt sound so ridiculous now that he thinks about it. Either way hes a human now too, or a half one atleast.

he squeezes the cigarette into an ashtray and looks at the time when he hears the door bell ringing. Its late and you’re here.

he hears you running up the stairs, and when you get to the top you run to him, giving him a soft hug. His heart keens.

“hi Choso!” you smile and let go of him, he immediately misses the feel of you, “hey,” he mumbles.

“why do you smell like cigerattes?” you huff and your nose crickles. cute.

he raises his shoulders.

“i cant believe it…who taught u to do that huh?” you make a disappointed face and fold your arms, tapping your foot on the floor. And he knows youre just joking, you and Yuji have been using enough sarcasm around him for him to have a pretty good understanding of it.

“Leiri,” he shrugs.

“of course…that hag,” you grin. And you look so fucking adorable, in your little outfit, and the way you look when you smile makes him weak. He has your bag ready on the couch, he had washed your panties before putting everything back into it. But he can’t think about that now, or he’ll turn bright red.

he sighs “i made dinner,” he says, “if you’re hungry,” you stop infront of him and you almost look like youre gonna cry from happiness. “im starving,” you say quickly, “what did you make?”

He’d made rice bowls for you. your favourite. And you eat like a girl who’d gotten her first meal in months. Happily humming while eating your food.

Rather than focusing on eating his own bowl, he thinks about eating every meal of the day with you, sitting across from him.

when you’re done you put your plate in the sink and you yawn, you look adorable when you yawn, you look adorable when you do anything.

you turn around, “Choso?”

his heart skips a beat. he nods.

“it’s really late and um…dark outside and i don’t really want to walk home alone,” you look away, are you….blushing?

“is it okay if i stay here for the night?”

And hes heard the stories. About what happens to pretty girls when they’re alone at night and they don’t see the stranger walking behind them. And his fist clenches at the thought of someone being mean to you. He’s stronger than any human. he’d crush their fucking skull.

“you can stay,” he says quickly, a little too eagerly he realises. And you smile, “give me your plate,” you say, looking greatful that he let you stay, unknowing of the fact that he’d do just about anything if it meant your safety, or your happiness.

You start washing the dishes in his tiny kitchen, and when Choso tries insisting that he wants to help, you splash a bit of water on him. And you laugh so sweetly, when he jumps a little, trying not to get hit.

When youre done washing up, You both stand in silence for a while. For some reason its not as akward as it sounds.

“i will sleep on the couch,” he says,

“no Choso…id feel bad, you sleep in your bed,” you mumble.

You both argue like that for a while, and youre not letting up. stubborn little human.

you both get quiet for a moment.

“how big is your bed?”

“Queen size,”

“so why dont we just…sleep in it together?”

youre blushing slightly again. it must be his imagination.

And then he thinks about it. Friends sleep in the same bed sometimes right? you dont mean anything by it, he thinks, its just you being polite.

“i guess…we could do that yes,” he agrees.

you smile and nod, “okay,”

Choso excuses himself to go to the bathroom then, telling you to go ahead and get ready for bed.

He looks at himself in the mirror. He takes out his buns, his hair falling down to his shoulders. His eyes are dark and sunken. He looks dead he thinks. He looks down, “behave,” he says quietly, mostly to his heart, but also his dick.

he buries his head in his hands And He realizes he cant, he realizes the second he’s gonna look at you in his bed, he won’t be able to stop himself. to stop himself from confessing everything he feels, everything he’s done. that he thinks about you all the time, that you drive him insane, that he stole your pretty panties and came in his hand from the smell of your wet cunt.

When he rounds the corner of his bedroom, you’re sitting patiently on the edge of his bed, waiting for him.

“i am going to sleep on the couch, i don’t think this is a good idea,” he says it quickly, before he changes his mind, before its too late to go back.

you open your mouth to speak, hesitating a little.

“is it because of what yuji told me?”

his brain goes quiet. “what?”

“that you…that you like me?”

fuck. its over. he sighs angrily. that little fucki-

you stand and walk to him.

and when you put your hand on his chest, for a moment he forgets why hes mad, he forgets who he is and what year hes in. all he sees is you. And how close you are all of a sudden. and how youre leaning in, standing on your tippy toes, pressing your soft lips to his, in a short gentle kiss. His world stops for a moment.

And when he regains his senses, his instincts take over and he kisses you back ferociously, it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but neither of you seem to care.

You walk backwards onto his bed, and you push him down so he’s sitting on the edge. He looks at you like a puppy dog, and his cheeks are flushed red.

When you sit down in his lap his dick twitches in his pants.

“i- i didnt think you…,” he stutters. he doesn’t really believe what’s happening.

“well i do,” you say, while cupping his face in your hands. “a lot,”

“can i…” he needs it he needs it he needs it, “can i eat your pussy?” he mumbles it quietly.

your eyes widen. fuck, he shouldn’t have said that, it was way too fast, you were just kissing.

“oh…uh okay,”

fuck. yes.

he lifts you up from his lap, and you skriek a little from surprise. He puts you down in a chair in the corner of his bedroom.

he gets on his knees infront of you and speaks quietly,

“i…im sorry i,” he sniffles a little, he’s so overwhelmed. And you’re letting him taste you.

you lean down and give him a kiss, biting your lip slightly.

“its okay…we can talk later, if you need it i’ll give it to you okay?”

And fuck he almost cries, and he buries his face in your lap. You shush him a little, caressing his hair. Hes hugging your legs.

He lifts his head, and you start unbuttoning your pants. Slowly sliding them down your hips as they fall to the floor. You spread your legs and he whimpers. Your panties are pink this time, and theres a big wet spot on them. And he doesn’t spare a second, he dives his head into your cunt, rubbing his face in it and licking at the wet spot desperately. you moan his name softly, and he cant help but grind his hard cock against the leg of the chair. Hes pathetic but he doesnt care, he wants you to feel good, he wants to make you cum on his face. He groans into your weeping pussy as he thinks about you cumming for him.

He pulls away a little, silently begging you to remove your panties. He wants to see your pussy so bad. His pussy.

You slide down your panties to reveal your soaked cunt. Choso almost growls. He looks up at you, asking for permission to keep going. you nod, your eyes half lidded. Spoiled little princess, he thinks, and thats exactly how hes going to treat you from now on.

he leans in again, kissing your pussy and it makes a wet sound. He licks his lips and groans deeply at your taste. He starts lapping at your cunt like a dehydrated puppy. He’s making out with your pussy now, swiping his tongue all over. You can tell he’s inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter, he’s doing such a good job.

you feel so good, his tongue is too much, its all too much. You love him so much. And you cum unexpectedly, crying out his name, begging him to keep going and he whines. You thrash around and Choso keeps you steady, his strong hands grasping your hips.

After youre done he keeps licking up your cum, making sure youre cleaned.

“Choso…stop, too much,” you say softly.

He pulls away.

His face is covered in your juices, dripping all the way down his neck. And he looks so happy. He stands up, like its on instinct. He needs to hold you.

He grabs you into his arms and plop down onto the bed, with you on his chest. He squeezes you into him, kissing your hair while you slide your panties on again.

“mine,” he says softly. youre his now.

You look up at him, searching his eyes, “Choso i wanna um…you know,” you gesture to his crotch. you want to make him feel good too.

but he looks away shyly. its embarrassing and pathetic, “i um..,” he sits up with you in his lap.

He doesnt feel hard under you anymore. And then it clicks.

“oh my god did you…”

he blushes furiously and nods, “its embarrassing,” he had cum in his pants the second he put his face in your bare pussy.

“no! no…it’s really…hot,” you reason and he looks less embarrassed. He looks into your eyes then, looks at your pretty little face and he already knows he wants you to be his forever.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks nervously.

you giggle and nod eagerly, jumping on him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling into his neck.

hes the luckiest man in the world he thinks. And you both fall asleep, you laying on his chest.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

guys they didn’t actually fuck and i’m SORRY

now….part 4?? hey!!! HEY OKAY IM SORRY!! comment if yall want more ill do a lil short one where buddy ACTUALLY looses his virginity.

taglist:

@iqzo @multy-fandom-lover

[gojobbg]

ravish | reader(f) x bf!yuji

pairing: reader(f) x bf!yuji (aged up)

synopsis: after days being gone for a mission, yuji comes home and loves on your body, particularly your mouth

warning(s): face fucking

a/n: just a small thang. to those who have sent asks, im working on them! school/work drains me but ive been making progress in all of them, i swear xo also do we prefer proper capitalization or all lower case writings? just tryna gage based on other smut ive seen.

It was a mystery to recall how you ended up in this predicament.

Your pink-haired lover had you stripped, the entirety of your body exposed before him. Your back was pressed against the cold wall of your bedroom, with your knees digging down against the beige carpet. And before you was your lover, your beloved curse user. And his painfully hard cock.

You couldn't hold contact with his eyes, but whenever you did leave sight of his tantalizing limb, you'd be met with dark, hungry eyes. Those jade orbs had you in a chokehold, especially with how many days its gone without looking at you. You could tell Yuji was preparing to pounce you, as his pensive expression worsened the small pool developing in your flower. He was admiring you, as it has been a week since he couldn't.

"you're so beautiful, m'love," he murmurs quietly. "how is my girlfriend this beautiful?" You shake your head shyly, unable to accept his compliments. But your face goes crimson when his toothy grin disappears, and his lips straighten. "m'gonna show you how beautiful you are..."

Gently, Yuji puts one of his hands on the back of your head, cushioning it against the hard wall behind you. With the other hand, he holds his twitchy cock and looks down at you adoringly. "let me in, love." Obediently, your lips separate.

"Good girl," he whispers before completely filling your mouth. He doesn't ease it in, his tip quickly reacquainting itself with the back of your throat. Tears well up in your eyes, your breathing comes unsteady. Muscular thighs and toned abs fill your blurred view as the taste of salt dragged along your tongue. Squelches from your salivating mouth supplemented the silence alongside Yuji's satisfying grunts. "you... take my cock so well, pretty girl. god, mmph, i missed you and this pretty little mouth of yours."

His member slid in and out of you with ease, his cock shining gloriously from your saliva. You could feel your honey spill from your flower, your cunt eagerly waiting its turn. You could barely breathe now, relying on your nose to keep you going. Albeit this fact, you didn't want Yuji to stop. You wanted him to use you as he so desired. To be loved and ravished by him.

"babygirl, your mouth feels... so fucking, ah good-!" He proceeds to go faster, his balls slapping your chin with each thrust. You moan around his cock, which earns you a throaty string of curses from your insatiable partner. "more... god, i want more."

He then grabs you by the base of your ponytail, pulling you away from the wall. With both hands to the sides of your head, he continues to face fuck you. His hands guide you, bobbing your head up and down his desperate shaft. Your thoughts were fucked empty, you could no longer think. All you knew was this cock, and nothing more.

"your mouth is so fucking hot, y/n, holy shit," he praises through grunts. Your chin began dripping with saliva, your hands holding onto his thighs in struggle. He chuckled at your nails digging into his legs, knowing you were reaching your limit. You could feel his veins shape into your cheeks, and on your tongue. "i'll fuck you as soon as you get me to cum in your mouth. help me out, will ya?"

You finally hollow your cheeks, your mouth completely coating his cock. Yuji hisses in ecstasy, his hands moving your head just a bit faster. His tip keeps hitting the back of your throat, now causing you to swallow each time. He feels the walls of your throat close, wanting nothing more than to shoot cum right down it. "baby, i'm gonna cum..." He warns you, sweat beginning to bead on his abs.

You hum around his cock in affirmation. He chuckles again before looking up, profanities jumping from his tongue. With one final thrust, he forces his entire shaft into your mouth, part of it housed in your throat. Your eyes widen when you felt his hot load burst and roll down into your throat. Your eyes itched from tears, and you kept gagging on his cock. He was so big, you couldn't handle it. It's only been a week, and your mouth was virgin to his length.

He pulls out slowly, with his tip bouncing off your bottom lip. "come," Yuji's warm smile welcomes you, with two hands being offered to you. You take his hands and rise, your knees burning from the carpet. "you did so good for me, baby," he murmurs, his index and thumb holding your wet chin. Your lips were pink and tender from his relief, and he quickly mends them with a passionate kiss. Calloused hands find their way to your ass, his fingers teasing your pussy a bit with precum ornate on his tips. "looks like your ready for me, baby."

You nod your head shyly, unable to get the words out. Yuji chuckles, a toothy smile illuminating your world. With a kiss on your head, he lowers himself to one of your ears. "since you sucked me off so well, i'm gonna fuck you until the sun comes up. does that sound like a plan, princess?"

[madaqueue]

Practice Makes Perfect | Chapter 7

synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?

pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader

themes/content: modern college au (characters aged up to 18+). language, fluff, angst. alcohol consumption, jealousy, kissing (x megumi). 18+, MDNI

word count: 1.8k

a/n: guys i'm still trying to write the last chapter for this series rn bc i got hit with mad writers block but aaAAH she's comin along

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

You’re back in Yuji’s dorm building, but this time your back faces the familiar room. He had just waved goodbye, whispering “Go get ‘em, tiger,” as he shot fake finger guns at you before shutting the door to his room. Now it was just you alone in the hallway, facing the construction paper cutout of “Megumi” that was taped to the door in front of you. You hesitantly raise your fist out before knocking.

A soft voice from inside yells out, “One second!” through the door before it swings open. In front of you stands the dark-haired boy, once again wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans. “Hey, it’s good to see you,” he says sweetly as his eyes meet yours. “You ready to go?”

“Yep!” you chirp. The warm scent of his cologne hits your nose as he steps next to you. You suddenly feel nervous, not sure if it’s because of the man standing to your side or the one who you just left. You push the feeling down as you walk to the cafe.

–

The space is warm, the hum of espresso makers and piano music filling your ears. The walls are adorned in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, warm light casting over everything from the chandelier above.

With a mug in each hand, Megumi leads you to a table in the middle of the cafe. He sets one down in front of you with your latte and his, with plain black coffee, next to him.

“This place is beautiful,” you note, eyes glancing around the room taking it all in. “How did you find it?”

“One of my friends, Maki, suggested I try it,” he responds, taking a sip from his coffee. “She said it fit my ‘vibe’ or something,” he chuckles. “So, what do you have to study while we’re here?”

“I have a bit of bio to work on, but honestly, I’m just here for the company,” you try to say as nonchalantly as possible as you pull your laptop out of your backpack and set it on the table in front of you. You catch Megumi smiling out of the corner of your eye.

“Speaking of company,” he begins as he pulls a notebook out of his bag, “how do you and Yuji know each other?”

There it is. You were waiting for this question on the way over, but Megumi seemed to avoid the topic entirely. You knew he saw you with Yuji, and now you have to come clean. But what, exactly, is there to come clean about?

“We’re childhood friends,” you state. It’s not technically a lie, but it certainly doesn’t explain the complicated relationship you’ve developed with him over the past few weeks.

“Mhm,” Megumi hums quizzically. You could tell he wants to ask more, yet he doesn’t pry.

Silence falls between the two of you for a moment, and something about it makes you feel comfortable sharing more. “We met when we were kids, and as we grew up we were inseparable. He’s…” you pause, thinking about the weight of the words you’re about to say, “my best friend.” You sigh.

“But…?” Megumi guides, a small grin forming on one side of his mouth.

“But now it’s…weird,” you follow.

“Well, Yuji’s a pretty weird guy, and I’ve only known him a semester,” he agrees with a chuckle.

Something about Megumi puts you at ease. You feel comfortable sharing things with him you never thought you’d say out loud, which is why you continue explaining. “Yuji and I kissed,” you blurt out. “But now he has feelings for someone else, and I don’t know how I feel about him, and everything’s just messed up.” You put your head into your hands.

Megumi pauses for a moment, trying to think of what to say. “Oof,” is all he gets out.

“‘Oof’ indeed,” you chuckle through your palms. Suddenly, you lift your head up to meet eyes with the boy across from you. “Hey, please don’t tell Yuji I said any of that?” you plead, realizing the sensitive nature of what you just shared with him.

“My lips are sealed,” he responds through a smile, “as long as you get the next round of coffees.”

“Deal,” you agree, a grin spreading across your face.

This feels…easy. Talking to Megumi feels like how you and Yuji used to be, before all this emotional gunk got in the way.

The conversation flows smoothly as the two of you work through all of your studying for the next week, spending nearly the entire day in the warm cafe. By the time you leave, the sun has set and the sky is orange and purple as dusk settles over campus. Megumi asks to walk you home and you agree, thanking him for the kind gesture.

When you get back to your dorm, the caffeine from the coffees you were chugging all day finally wears off as you crash into your bed, the smell of detergent still lingering on your freshly-washed comforter as you settle under it.

–

The next week breezes by, especially since you finished all of your work at the cafe with Megumi over the weekend. You start looking forward to your biology class because you know it means you’ll get to see him. For a few hours each week, you get to watch his hands as he sketches page after page, sometimes of animals, sometimes of buildings, sometimes of you. Whenever you’re included in his drawings, he tears the page out and gives it to you without a second thought.

The two of you also started spending more time together outside of class trying out new cafes, especially after you found out Megumi was very particular about his coffee.

He sticks his nose up as he tries to hide the disgust on his face. “Yuck,” he mutters as he swallows, setting the mug down.

“No good?” you ask, putting your hand over your mouth as you try to hide your giggle. He just shakes his head in response. “Well my latte is delicious,” you respond with a smirk as you take a sip.

“How can you even say that?” he frowns. “That stuff is all sweetener, and you know it.”

“Mmm maybe, but I like things a little sweet,” you hum. You reach your hands across the table to pinch his cheeks, molding his frown into a forced smile. “And I bet you’d like it too, if you gave it a try.” He swats your hands away with a chuckle.

Things are…easy. Yet, for some stupid reason, you still find yourself thinking of Yuji, especially during these lull periods where you let your thoughts get quiet. It’s not like he’s gone, or even that he hasn’t texted you (because he certainly has, mostly pictures of his gross meals like fried rice with jam or a boxed mac n cheese he made using vanilla coffee creamer). It’s more that you are struggling to figure out what to say to him. How are you supposed to explain whatever these feelings are to someone you aren’t even dating that you know has feelings for someone else?

–

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Megumi asks. You’re both packing up your stuff after your Friday biology class. “I got invited to this off-campus party and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me?” he turns to face you. You don’t sense any hint of nervousness in his voice, as if asking was second nature. He had really grown comfortable around you.

“I’d love to,” you respond with a smile. “Meet at my place at 8:00?”

“Sounds perfect,” he grins as you both turn to walk out of the lecture hall.

–

Walking into a party with Megumi is definitely a new experience. For one, you were never a huge party-goer, so the loud music and conversations are an adjustment. Second, this is the first time you and Megumi have gone somewhere together. Sure you had studied plenty of times, but this feels like something else.

Truthfully, you don’t know what you and Megumi are to each other. Your relationship feels comfortable, like you’ve been friends for years, but sometimes you say something and you swear you catch him blushing.

It doesn’t matter, you try to mentally pep-talk yourself, tonight I’m just here to have fun.

The two of you step through the front door as the smell of stale beer hits your nose and the bass from the music causes your chest to vibrate. You tug on the bottom of your black dress as you gaze down at the tennis shoes you paired it with, hoping you don’t look too out of place. Looking up, you scan across the room for a familiar face but find none; luckily, Megumi waves at his friends and grabs your hand, guiding you to the middle of the dance floor.

You dance together for a while before one of his friends, who he introduces as Toge, comes back and hands you both full cups. The new white-haired boy pulls down the top of what looks to be a custom-made hoodie before chugging his drink. Megumi looks at you and knocks the top of his glass against yours before he moves it up to his lips. You follow his lead, taking in gulps of what tastes like the cheapest beer you’ve ever had. Both of you finish your drinks at the same time, the liquid sending shivers down your body as you smile up at Megumi.

The night continues smoothly, Toge coming back with drinks every so often as you let the music course through you while moving your body to the pounding rhythms. You slowly get to meet Megumi’s friends as you shout your introductions over the blasting noise around you. You are having…fun? You never saw yourself enjoying parties, but here you are, getting the college experience.

Suddenly, Megumi taps your shoulder. You turn to look up at him, but his eyes are focused on something behind you. Spinning around on your toes, you see why he got your attention: Yuji.

He’s standing on the other side of the crowded dance floor, one arm leaning against the wall. And below his arm, is a girl.

She has shoulder length brown hair and is wearing a dark blue dress that seems like it was made for her. This has to be her, you think. Dammit, did she have to be gorgeous, too?

For a moment, all you can do is stare, your eyes going back and forth between the two of them. You watch as Yuji says something and she shoves him in the chest, a laugh never leaving her lips. Your eyes start to water as you try to blink the tears away. No, no, no, this isn’t happening. You’re supposed to be having fun. This isn’t fun. Megumi sees your body tense and he places a hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention back.

Suddenly, Yuji’s eyes meet yours from across the room. Your stomach drops, and you’re not sure if it’s the butterflies or the jealousy bubbling up inside of you. Before you can even think, you turn to face Megumi, hoping Yuji is still watching. You move your arms around his neck as you lean up to kiss him.

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[lazyjellyfish300]

RAHUUUUU 💕💕😩😩 THE WAYYY I STAYED UP LAST NIGHT TO READ THISSSS. (This is now my third attempt to post my thoughts so pray Tumblr doesn't eat my reblog again 😩)

EVERY PIECE OF YOUR WRITING, particularly your Kento fics is such a massive love letter to his character😩😩😩💕💕💕. I am in such awe at this beautiful piece.

"He assesses you in return, and you tilt your head as the dim sunlight filtering into the corridor catches his eye, turning the honeyed brown of their depths to a moss-flecked river bed, steady and cool.

Beautiful. "

<- so all of us Nanami wives agree one of the most beautiful things about him is his EYES. 💕💕this description is incredible at encapsulating the tenderness of his gaze, and utilizing the nature reference to relay that is EXTREMELY BEAUTIFUL AND POETIC. 😭😭😭😭🥰🥰🥰🥰

"Kento had paid the price, and would do it again, and again, and again, in every known reality, if it meant maintaining the stability he saw outside his window.

(But if that was the case, then why was the darkness inside him more ravenous than ever?) "

<- this is on point, such an evident grasp of Kento's thoughts, his grief, and his overall selflessness that defines his character that we adore so much!

"He nods, but his body is now taut, anticipatory. This close, you can smell the surgical cleaning fluid that he must still use when changing dressings, the scent of the clinic still clinging to his clothes and hair. Beneath it, something warm, vital, pleasant. The scent of him. His hair falls over one brow, unhindered, and he impatiently pushes it back. Judging from the length, he must like it shorter than it currently is." 

<- THESE DETAILS?? RAHU!! YOUR MIND! I swear it's such an insightful and intimate peek into his character with little details like this over something as small as his preferred hair length. And you incorporated it beautifully. 😩😩

"He is also unlike any other pupil you've ever encountered. There is something about having that keen gaze trace every line your body forms with such close attentiveness, the lithe mimicking of each pose, the easing of the stiff line of his mouth when he gets something right, and is aware of it."

<- this transition that illustrates his gradual warming up and progress under reader's direction is summarized succinctly and effectively here. 🫶🏽

"Why is his spirit so strong inside you? You carry him with you like a briefcase to work everyday. Why is his reflection on every surface you pass? Why does he force you forward, and yet, drag you backwards too?"

For the first time, Nanami does not meet your gaze. There is a softness to this man, that shows in the gentle, considered way he touches objects, the way his dark lashes shadow his cheeks, the way he is always thinking of someone, anyone other than himself. 

<- oof the angst! And once again, amazing demonstration of your understanding of his character, his inner thoughts, his fears. Bravo! 

Nanami chuckles. It is a rich, warm, hearty sound, one that flickers over the table like the heat of a fireplace. You see the aching softness in Yuuji's eyes, the way Nobara grins triumphantly at having wrung that sound out of him.

<- is there ANYTHING about this beloved man that is NOT GUSH WORTHY? 😩😩😩😩Nope, something as simple as his damn chuckle is no exception.😭😭😭 I'm swooning over these sprinkles of warmth we're getting from him as he and reader build their relationship. The addition of Yuji Nobara and Megumi, his beloved students are instrumental in this transition and so endearing! 💕

His soul, the Atman that had struggled like a wounded tiger, frantic and torn, beating against its constraints, is not whole. Not just yet. It is, however, expanding beyond the borders of his body, exuding that confidence and grace you knew were such a vital part of his being. This is Nanami, the shackles of his mind trailing with uncertainty behind him as his gaze seeks yours.

<- this marked difference in how you described Nanami's countenance now versus when he first met reader brilliantly illustrates the passage of time. This new version of him is very irresistible and shows how much stronger he's gotten! We love to see progression in his healing. 💕😭

The taste of his mouth is a nectar you've never known you've craved. It is heady, a fiery joining of soft and rough, the edges of the scar tissue tracing along your lips like the light drag of a fingernail.

<- ohhhhh to kiss Nanami Kento. 😩😩😩The description of the kiss  is sooo passionate here, and the inclusion of his scars just brings another layer of tangibility and makes it sooo realistic!! Butterflies all over 🥰🥰🥰🥰

AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE HEART STOPPING, STUNNING LOVE SCENE 💕💕💕😭😭😭 MY BODY WAS WARM ALL OVER WHILE I READ IT. 

Kento's skin is a map of hidden treasures, the smooth, tawny, gold- flecked expanse of chest meeting the ridges of scar tissue halfway across. The new growth of white hair on his scalp is downy soft between your fingers, in contrast to the silky texture on the right. His powerful thighs slide between yours, the forward thrust of his hips spreading you open to receive his weight.

<- this is ASDJFJGKLL. Like there are no words in the English language that can accurately describe how this paragraph makes me feel other than a feral keyboard smash 👹 

He holds you close, so close, as if he could meld your bodies as you had once done with your cursed energy, ragged puffs of air escaping his lips to collect like clouds in the evening sky of your hair. His movements are slow, dragging tears from the corners of your eyes, drunk and blissful moans cocooned within the slowly rotating vessel of your lovemaking.

<- this is one of the most beautiful paragraphs I have read to describe lovemaking. 😩😩😩😩 The smut in this is not highly graphic, but the steaminess it carries is just as if not more effective in making my toes curl. Just UGHHHHH. I feel myself absolutely melting. 💕💕💕

To be in Kento's presence is to discover a thousand tiny precious shards, hidden in the silken folds of your changing life, piecing them together to form a diamond of unparalleled value.

<- what a profound and beautiful way to describe someone. To be in Kento's prescence. I now long to be someone you hold in high regard, Rahu, because to be talked about like this... 😩😩😩 And nobody certainly more deserving than our blaring green flag Kento Nanami 💕

He is quiet, stubborn, brave, resilient, mischievous and agile of mind. He challenges your thoughts on the jujutsu world, brings summer to your heart and draws you into the sunshine of his embrace. The fractured nature of his soul is not one that can be undone, but weeds (hardy and weathered) have grown through the cracks and your own flowerbed finds a home there, gently blossoming.

<- CAN THE LIMIT OF HOW HOPEFULLY I FIND MYSELF IN LOVE WITH A 2D MAN BE SURPASSED. YES. YES WITH RAHU'S WRITING IT ABSOLUTELY CAN. 

He is a red-painted center, kindling in the palm of your hand, the tiger that inhabits the secret garden of your heart, the flame in a gilded brazier that never goes out. 

<- GORGEOUS ENDING. What a fucking stunning piece of art this is. I rave about Kento but I also want to rave about reader. This seemingly universal sentiment among Nanami wives to give him a happy ending and help him heal from Shibuya in our mind palaces that spared him from his much more bleak canon ending was so thoughtfully illustrated in the reader in this story. And using such a beautiful part of your culture as an important element as well adds a very sentimental personal touch to it. Thank you so much for writing this Rahu 💕 just bravo.

Synopsis: Post-Shibuya Nanami x Classical Dancer Desi Reader

In the aftermath of Shibuya, an injured Nanami struggles to balance his eroding self-worth with his desire to conduct his duty as a sorcerer. He finds healing in the fragrant garden of your dance.

Genres: Romance, angst, suspense.

Content warnings: depictions of low self-esteem, dealing with trauma, erotic and sexual content.

Thanks to @tsukimefuku for reading and editing this piece that is so precious to me. 🧡💜

Please refer to the glossary for the meaning of certain terms used. 🧡

(I)

Pushpanjali: an offering

"Tha ka dhi mi, tha ka dhi mi, tha ka ... "

It is a chant that spans centuries, leaping from the high-ceilinged, airy chambers of a land and time long past, to here, and now. It winds between the gently rippling silk scarves that adorn the walls, a drumbeat like the slow collapse of ancient kingdoms under the steady tramp of cavalry.

Time seems to pass at a stagnant pace in here, in this place where your domain has taken root and unfurled, a red, red bloom in the heart and hand of a painted god.

Feet slide and strike against the worn wooden floor, precise and weighted, as you perform the basic stance before your pupils, watching faces tight with the concentration of the inexperienced.

"Tha ka dhi mi, tha ka dhi mi ... "

Your voice guides them, as does your form, an arm straightening here and a pair of knees bending further as they watch you. The twist of your lower back, the stretch of your arms in a line to some point behind you, the rejoining of your fingers in katakamukha, the arch kept between chin and the line of your shoulder, all shifting in a single fluid movement that requires no thought.

Incense snakes through the air, close to the glass double doors, the heady scent of sandalwood gathering in tendrils there, where the gentle push of the breeze cannot dissipate it. It is through this fine mist that you see him, for the first time, standing just outside the doors in the narrow passageway.

Shoko had informed you of his arrival, of course. She had warned you about his physical condition, about the nature of his grievous injuries. It wouldn't be the first time she'd made use of your services to assist in the rehabilitation of wounded sorcerers.

Your eyes meet his, through the shifting coils of fragrant smoke from the brazier, and you see, in a single, fractured moment, why he is here. He has been sent here for a form of healing, but his gaze is not soft and receptive. It is shuttered, its passion muted and closeted away, defences piled so high they might as well be weapons. He scans the dance hall with the kind of predatory clarity that long, long years of being a sorcerer would bring.

You excuse yourself and step outside, the open door allowing the scent of the incense and the soft evening air to filter out into the hallway. Behind you, the silk scarves flutter gently in the draught.

He is a tall man, poised and elegant. He wears the jacket and comfortable, warm trousers in a way that speaks of someone more accustomed to formal wear. As soon as you enter the hall, he bows with deep formality, and the mellow resonance of his voice seeps into the narrow space like honey spilled across the floorboards.

"Nanami Kento. I was referred here by - "

"Shoko. Yes. I've been expecting you."

You return his bow and introduction, aware of his scrutiny travelling the length of your spine. You can sense that he is picking you apart in his mind, fitting together the components to try to build a coherent whole.

Close-up, the severity of his burns are evident. A layer of darkened scar tissue covers the left side of his face and scalp, running down his neck and further, where your eyes cannot follow. The left eye, according to Shoko, had been unrecoverable, now shielded with a soft, surgical patch. The damage to his arm had been even worse, as it seemed he'd used it to shield himself. A fuzzy growth of pale hair had started along the scorched skin of his scalp, a sign that even now, his body was knitting itself slowly back together.

Your eyes travel over his sharp-edged countenance, and he stares back, unphased. You make a rapid mental list, a trickle of first impressions that will later build to a torrent.

Stength, and plenty of it. A deathly, well-controlled calm that permeates his living flesh, skin over smooth stone. The martial bearing and powerful arms and shoulders, even scorched as they are, speak of the force he must have presented on the battlefield.

He assesses you in return, and you tilt your head as the dim sunlight filtering into the corridor catches his eye, turning the honeyed brown of their depths to a moss-flecked river bed, steady and cool.

Beautiful.

That is your first impression of him.

(II)

Alarippu: the flowering

Recovery.

Kento has heard a dozen variations of that word by now, couched in the language of choice. 

The road to recovery. 

Recovering your mobility. 

Getting your old self back. 

A return to routine.

He is aware, by now, that any such full repair of the damage that has been done to him is a castle in the air, one he cannot summon the lightness of spirit to ascend to. Positivity had never really been his hallmark. Now, even less so.

The world had shifted around him while he was asleep, you see. Comrades had fallen. The new generation had triumphed. The very fabric of Jujutsu society had been rewoven, the dawning of a new age embroidered for all to see across the hard-won horizon.

The sacrifices he'd made were but a few of many. They'd hardly mattered, in the larger scheme of things. Many had given their lives. What had he offered up?

The ability to walk without aid, for one. Also, most of the skin on the left side of his body. Basic movements, things that had once been second nature to him, were now carefully calculated because of the pain.

The lunge of an arm through a coat sleeve when he was in a rush. The brisk pace he'd maintained to keep his body temperature up in cold weather. The sensation of a soft cashmere scarf against his cheek, or the brush of an aerated cotton shirt against his skin in summer. The cascade of hot water on tired muscles, after a long afternoon swinging diligently at cursed spirits. All muted, fuzzy, lost.

And what else?

Kento had never been soft with himself. People often thought that sentiment never clouded his cool judgment, allowing him to make objective and sensible decisions. While that was largely true, it flew wide of the mark in terms of what really pushed him, what gave him direction. It was ironic, as he'd speculated later, that his mortal enemy had been the one to identify what many of his comrades hadn't.

Mahito, in that light, youthful, jubilant voice, declaring how he'd seen Kento's soul quivering. And he was not wrong.

Kento was a man driven by a quiet, desolate desperation, a desire to fill an empty space that yawned endlessly within his soul, a black hole with an insatiable appetite. Emotion was as vital to his function as breathing. It drove him out of bed everyday, into the office, into the boardroom, into the bakery, back to jujutsu tech, into rain, snow, sun and wind, into the face of his darkest imaginings.

He watches traffic from the window of his room at the private clinic, pedestrians going about their lives, people chatting on precariously held phones, children dancing through a world of make-belief, people on lunch break. People with purpose, a certainty of their place in the world. What could he offer, in this world of colour, sound, movement and shadow, this world that threatened to leave him behind?

Kento had paid the price, and would do it again, and again, and again, in every known reality, if it meant maintaining the stability he saw outside his window.

(But if that was the case, why was the darkness inside him more ravenous than ever?)

********

Shoko comes to see him most frequently, even with her workload at the Tech. She can't really help it. Nanami is her last remaining bridge to the past, as selfish as that makes her seem. She doesn't care much, not anymore. She'll take what she can get.

A tenuous bridge, is Nanami.

Shoko is accustomed to seeing the damage that can be done to a body by the uncontrolled hatred of a curse, or the more conscious destruction of a cursed technique. She has seen it all, performed the most grotesque procedures on the corpses of those she loved. But something about seeing Nanami's injuries, seeing him like this, is more jarring than any of those horrors.

Her technique has allowed his skin to heal, the raw flesh, exposed tendon and muscle beneath now covered by the new epidermal growth she has stimulated.  The chances of oedema and infection are also minimal, considering her precautions. All that was left now was his slow physical conditioning and therapy.

(If only that were all.)

If Itadori, Kugisaki, Fushiguro and Ijichi had their way, Nanami would never know a moment of solitude. They wanted constant updates on his condition, to bring him his favourite foods, to talk, weep, mourn and rejoice with him. She allowed them to see him, every other day, but drew a firm line, citing his recovery as priority. She didn't have the heart to tell them that every gentle glance, every proud smile, every glimpse of the old Nanami they received came at a great cost.

Standing in the doorway of his room now, she could see it. Or rather, the lack of it. That vitality, that pain from which he drew his vigour, the firm lines of his back and shoulder that reminded her of an implacable bulwark against the raging of the cursed world, all absent. When he didn't think anyone was looking, that is.

Stepping into the room, she offers a slight nod as the door slides shut behind her. The change is immediate. He straightens, the corners of his eyes regaining their sharp edge, the set of his mouth firm and familiar.

"Shoko."

"Nanami. Ready to talk about physical therapy?"

She gets straight into it, knowing that he wouldn't want it any other way.

"I'd like that very much. When can I begin?"

His words are still slightly muffled, the burnt edge of his lips stiff with a new layer of scar tissue.

Nanami had never been a vain man. He had always been in possession of striking features, and had taken care of his appearance, but in a way that was more attuned to practicality; if he was neat, well-presented and unremarkable, Nanami considered this a success.

It was why he had been able to look in a mirror with such equanimity for the first time after his treatment. All she had seen was a slight tightening at the corners of his mouth, a slow nod, a brief look of exhaustion and resignation as to this new set of scars.

The loss of his left eye and the damage to the arm on the same side had been the worst of it. There, she'd done everything in her power to restore the lost tissue, but Nanami would never regain his eye, or the full range of motion with that limb. There was, however, the soft growth of new hair on his scalp, a promising sign that elsewhere, her rejuvenation of the underlying tissue layers had somewhat succeeded.

Shoko doesn't reply to his query just yet. She approaches the bed, and he sits up, unlacing the front of his hospital gown, accustomed to the routine by now. She place her palms a few inches from his skin, closing her eyes as she maps him out, bone, muscle, blood and water, the minute synapses where impulses leap in a frantic race, the steady beat of his heart.

Inhaling deeply, she steps away.

"The sooner you begin, the better. I know you've been walking a lot. That alone won't help in the long term."

There is a hint of reproach in her voice. Nanami, displaying his singularly stubborn streak, had been discovered out of bed on more than one occasion, standing by the windows, staring into space in a way that made her worried.

He gives a wry, crooked smile.

"What do you recommend?"

Shoko places the file she'd carried along carefully on his lap.

"There's a family with a specific cursed technique I've corresponded with before. Sent some of my patients to them. They specialize in therapeutics."

Nanami is watching her closely, taking note of the way she focuses on the view out the window.

"And you're sending me to them?"

"They aren't local. The main clan is located in India. Scattered at various locations in the Tamil Nadu province. One of their members moved here, some years back, to conduct research on the compatibility of their techniques with ours. It wasn't a success, for various reasons, but he stayed, with his family."

"So it's a hereditary technique?"

"In a way. It manifests with varying degrees of efficacy. I'd simply like ... for you to meet with their representative."

She returns his gaze, and when she speaks again, he understands why she has been so hesitant.

"It's not just physical therapy, Nanami. We can achieve that pretty well here. Their methods go ... deeper than that. I can mend physical wounds. They might be able to help you heal in other ways."

He doesn't agree to it immediately, looking through the list of exercises that came after the therapy recommendation letter. One eyebrow lifts slightly in a comfortingly familiar query.

"You want me to do yoga too?"

"Gojo's idea. He added it to the list before he - "

She stops abruptly, one hand finding purchase on Nanami's ankle, squeezing lightly on it where it rests beside her, under the blankets.

"Anyway. He said he wanted to make video edits of you with your ass in the air. Said it would be good to bring you down to earth a little."

Her chuckle doesn't sound hollow any longer. She can talk about her friend (yes, he was that too) without that tell-tale catch of agony in her chest. Nanami sighs before opening up the file, his good hand leafing through the printed pages.

"I suppose ... I could humour him. This once."

(III) 

Shabdam: The Word

In a month's time, with Shoko's regular treatment, Nanami is in good enough condition to leave the clinic. He still makes use of a walking stick, especially for longer distances and steeper flights of stairs. Ijichi makes sure he is permanently on call, for the occasions when Nanami simply needs to get out of the sterile halls of the clinic, the rapid intake of the world outside enough to sustain him.

Nanami has, for the most part, been following Shoko's regimen religiously, adding his own variations without her knowledge. In this way, his strength and endurance steadily build up to a point where he is ready to be discharged (with daily check-ins, of course).

Nanami keeps the file that Shoko had handed over, but every time he spies it out of the corner of his eye, he occupies himself with something else, procrastinating in a way that is wholly unlike him. Eventually, his own conscience prevents him from delaying further. He is entirely skeptical that anyone can truly help him. He has felt that way since Haibara died, but even he can admit that there's no harm in trying.

He finds the address given with little issue, and Ijichi is more than willing to take him there. The place is nondescript, no signage giving any indication of the activities that take place there. There is an wood-panelled foyer, a colonial style spiral staircase leading to the upper floors. The stairs themselves have been worn smooth by many generations of feet.

Nanami is half an hour early, anticipating some kind of registration process, or introductions, as there had been in martial arts dojos he had frequented. There is nothing of the kind. He finds himself in a corridor, flanked by two pairs of glass double doors. In one of the rooms, a wide open space with a wooden floor and a view over the city, he sees some kind of class in session.

Approaching slowly, he hears it. The rhythmic thump and shuffle of feet, the feminine voice that called out a pattern that he's never heard before, but seems familiar all the same. The glass doors give him a clear view of the room, of the five occupants (a small class, then) who were engaged in some kind of dance practice, and the instructor, up front.

He pauses, body coming to a complete and rare standstill. He watches as she moves through a repetitive step, in time with the beat she calls out, firm, musical, lilting. The grace of movement, the low centre of gravity, the rigidity of the lower body in contrast with the flow of the upper, arrests his vision.

The disciplined line of her throat turns, and she is facing the door, facing him, hands brought together in a signature pose. Long lashed eyes, observant, catching and holding his glance. For a moment, he feels the desire to back away from the door, to hurry out into the street, a return to his comfortable routine. He stands his ground, as always.

He watches as she approaches the door.

********

Once your introductions have been dispensed with, you gesture to Nanami to follow you into the smaller room you use for individual therapy. His gaze lingers on the class that continues, even in your absence.

The same silk scarves ripple gently along the walls of the room next door, orange, grey, red and green. The rug is old, but rich and plush. There are two chairs, comfortable and supportive, their orange upholstery lined with faded gold thread, and an urn on a stand nearby, on the boil in readiness to prepare chai.

You pour him a cup now, the fragrant liquid a rich, caramel brown in the small glass, eyeing his expression through the steam.

There. Immediate interest. A man with a varied palate, considering the way he accepts the tea with polite deference, but takes an appreciative sniff before sipping deeply.  The way his shoulders relax slightly afterwards has the corner of your mouth tipping up.

"So, Nanami. Shoko told me that you're here for our specific line of therapeutics."

He puts the cup down with a decisive motion.

"Yes. She told me a little about the effects of your technique."

"Did she explain what exactly it involves?"

He pauses, gaze traveling to the students in the dance hall next door who were now stretching and rounding up their practice.

"I assume it has ... something to do with that?"

You set your own cup down and clap your palms together.

"Well observed. It has everything to do with dance. Bharatanatyam, to be exact."

He raises an eyebrow, and you explain obligingly.

"Where I'm from, Bharatanatyam is one of many classic dance forms. The practice itself goes back centuries. My family's technique is rooted in the principles of the dance itself."

Nanami cleared his throat.

"I'm afraid ... I'm not a good dancer."

Your laughter comes easily.

"That's what they all say, in the beginning. But don't worry. You won't have to do anything strenuous, nor am I going to make you prance around in a dhoti."

"You have my thanks, I suppose."

"We will do plenty of physical conditioning, but you will also be my audience. My technique requires that you are ... receptive and open to answering the things that I ask."

Here, the easy flow of conversation stills a little, and the tea swirls gently through the motion of his dexterous fingers. He does reply, eventually, softer than before.

"I chose to come here. I think that speaks for itself. I will accept whatever your technique can do for me."

The non-committal nature of his reply does not escape you. You nod, understanding that this is the best you'll get from him, for now.

"Hmm. I think it's best that I demonstrate. That always works better than sitting here and explaining."

You stand and gesture for him to do the same, observing his movements carefully.

There. The burned side of his body has slower movements, as expected. He still displays agility and grace, despite the stiffness and pain he must feel. You approach and stand directly in front of him.

"Nanami, I'm going to lay my hand here, on your abdomen. Please tell me if this is fine."

He nods, but his body is now taut, anticipatory. This close, you can smell the surgical cleaning fluid that he must still use when changing dressings, the scent of the clinic still clinging to his clothes and hair. Beneath it, something warm, vital, pleasant. The scent of him. His hair falls over one brow, unhindered, and he impatiently pushes it back. Judging from the length, he must like it shorter than it currently is.

"Please try to relax."

Your hand presses against the firm planes of his stomach, centering around his navel. He is shockingly solid, vitality surging under your fingers. And something else. You frown, but keep your hand in place. After a few minutes, your fingers begin to move. You start to tap out a gentle rhythm against his skin, tentative, repetitive.

You keep this up for a while, eyes shut tightly, focused. When you eventually look up at him, he is watching you with close attention. You know what he sees, that he is following the currents of cursed energy that swarm around your body, fluttering and pulsing in accordance to the pattern you've been tapping out.

This part is crucial. The manner with which you approach this will determine his response, and you can feel his resistance to an invasion of this kind, how he could shut himself off from you, the giant ribcage of self-preservation sealing to the sternum, forever shielding his heart.

You step back and take your seat again, and he pauses before doing the same. He leans forward, elbows on knees, watchful. This man doesn't miss a thing.

"Your diagnosis?"

He had a lot of cheek too.

"There is no diagnosis. Not in the sense you're thinking."

"So, what was the purpose of ... that?"

"It allows me to plan my dance. For next time."

"Your dance?"

You reach for your glass, take a quick sip of the cooling liquid.

"In plain terms, my technique is called Arangetram. It's named after the dance recital performed by a bharatanatyam student after many years of perfection of their art. The recital takes place in stages, and each stage reveals more of their dedication, their skill and their unique talent."

Your palms, placed together, draw apart and Nanami's gaze falls between them.

"It's an unfolding. A gradual one. My technique enables me to read deeper into the patterns of your own energy, gently peeling apart each layer in stages, until we reach the crux of the issue. The wound to your Atman. Your true, and eternal self. With my guidance, and your cooperation, we can possibly help heal that."

As you speak, Nanami's gaze falls to his glass, the bitter dregs collecting at the base. He stands abruptly, and turns away from you, facing the window. You remain still, waiting.

When he speaks, there is something in his voice that makes you wince slightly. So much heaviness. So much despair. The weight of it must be crushing.

"That sounds ... familiar. Before I was saved by another young sorcerer, someone I helped mentor, I ran into a curse that could have ended my life for good. I'd met him before, you see, but he escaped me at that time. His technique ... wounds the soul. Our perception of ourselves."

You take in a sharp breath. What Nanami was describing was a form of cursed technique in direct opposition to your own. Nanami continues, eyes fixed on the steady stream of cars that pass by below.

"Are you telling me that you can heal that kind of damage completely?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because damage to the soul requires accurate perception, but a callous disregard for any and all forms of life. Destruction is part of universal balance, but to actively go about it, without any consideration for what you will create, is ... inhuman."

You stand, wanting to meet his eyes when he turns to face you again.

"Healing the soul is nothing like this. Nor can it be done in the same way for every person. But Nanami, here's the question I want to ask most right now. Why, even now, are you thinking about all the victims of this curse? Why, since you've heard the nature of my technique, have you never once thought about how it could actually help you?"

This demand is what it takes for him to finally tear his gaze away from that window, mouth opening in protest, but your silencing finger is up. You're not touching his lips, not quite, but close. His warm breath ghosts over your finger.

"Dont answer that question now. Answer it tomorrow, after you watch me dance."

(IV) 

Jathiswaram: Purity of dance

He is early the next day, and you can sense that this will be a pattern. A seasoned sorcerer, through and through, gaining intel on the lie of the land. He is dressed with casual elegance once again, this time in a soft sweater and old jeans.

You guide him through a series of stretches and stances, eyes following his movements. As hard as Nanami is to read, you can tell, from the softening of the lines at the corners of his eyes that these exercises give him relief.

He is also unlike any other pupil you've ever encountered. There is something about having that keen gaze trace every line your body forms with such close attentiveness, the lithe mimicking of each pose, the easing of the stiff line of his mouth when he gets something right, and is aware of it.

It is like practicing yoga alongside a panther, one that won't harm you, but with every stray connection of the eyes, you are aware of just what it is physically capable of. It is both thrilling and strange; new.

When the first short session is over, and he seems slightly more at ease, you serve him tea once again.

"Take a few minutes. Relax. You'll wait in here until I call you into the hall next door."

"What would you have me do?"

"There will be a cushion on the floor. You're going to sit cross legged, as comfortable as you can get. Arms relaxed, hands resting on your knees. Then, you watch."

"A performance of some kind?"

"Yes. To be more specific, you're going to be inside my domain."

This was the one detail he seemed most hesitant about. You wait, in silence, giving him a chance to defer, to push back, to delay the inevitable. He doesn't do any such thing. You're beginning to understand just what kind of courage this man possesses. It takes a different kind of bravery, you're well aware, to face your own demons rather than the gnashing beasts of the cursed world.

*****

Kento does his best to let the soothing spiced heat of the tea perform its dutiful relaxation of his limbs. He sits, legs spread slightly, staring at the wall. The door to the small side room effectively cuts off any sound from the dance floor beyond. He does not know what to expect and he doesn't like it.

Finally, a soft chime sounds. His signal. Setting the glass of tea aside, he stands and makes his way into the corridor, then into the room beyond. He pauses, taking in the transformation.

The view of the city outside has been completely blocked by rich, embroidered curtains, a screen propped up all along one end of the room. Behind it, he hears soft voices speak in another language, rapid and lyrical. The experimental pat of drums and the musical clink of small cymbals indicates that a band of some kind has set up back there, in readiness with their instruments.

Following the instructions he'd received earlier, Kento pads quietly to the centre of the room, where the large, solitary cushion sits, and lowers himself onto it. It is surprisingly comfortable. When everything seems to be in position, a hush falls over the room.

The first hint of her approach is the chime of the anklets she wears, many layered, the bronze shimmer of the individual bells catching the buttery light. She wears a sari, but something about it seems tailored differently from those he'd seen before. The waist has been cinched in with a belt, the pleats of the skirt fanning out around the knees. Beneath, she wears a pair of loose-fitting pants, the shimmering material caught in at the ankles by the bells he heard earlier.

Her hair has been fixed back in a long braid, flowers framing the outline of her head. Dark kohl lines her eyes, and her hands and feet are decorated with a red stain that stands out against the ocean-coloured silk of the sari.

She approaches and crouches nimbly before him, that long-lashed gaze travelling over his form, attentive. Her voice is low pitched, as always, but now there is a new undercurrent to it. He can feel the latent energy within her, as if she has been calling to it, like some long- submerged civilization breaching the surface of the sea.

"Nanami. I'm about to start. In order for me to do so, I need you to picture something in your mind's eye for me."

He nods, slowly.

"I'm going to touch your navel the same way I did yesterday. When I do, don't fight the image your mind throws up. It is natural. It may be a good memory, or an upsetting one. Either way, just let it be. Do you understand?"

"I do."

The pressure of her hand is barely tangible through the material of his sweater, but her cursed energy slides against him with a force he can push back against. He doesn't. Even as it goes against every preservatory instinct he has, he lets her in, watches the slow dawn of soft surprise in her eyes. She has kind eyes, he is only just realising.

And then an image flashes across his mind, just as she warned. Another era of lost kindness, a boy who looked at him with eternal patience, good humour and warmth. In the instant that he sees that face, laughing, animated, lips peeled back from wide, white teeth in that trademark grin, the world shifts. The face is no longer filled with life and humour. It is cold. Pale. Lips purplish and creased, dried blood flaking from the corners.

He wants to pull away, to stop, but he cannot. This is important. This has to be done.

Her hand comes down on his abdomen, harder. Then again. She is finding a rhythm in his own cursed energy, hand mapping out the pulse, scenting his weakness, his pain, following it. Again. And again. And again. The steady pattern builds. So does her cursed energy. It fills the room, filtering into every space, until Kento feels like he is the inhabitant of a fish tank.

Blue silk fluttering, she steps back suddenly. The scent of the incense is heady, intense. Behind the screen, the unseen musicians have somehow struck up the same tempo she has been playing on his abdomen. Her expression changes, and he straightens, slowly.

The kohl-lined eyes open wide, the whites stark gains the smoky backdrop of her lids. She drops to the same stance he'd seen her adopt in the class she'd taught yesterday, knees slightly bent, thighs holding a rigid line, arms outstretched, hands slightly bent at the ends. Her entire upper torso forms an elegant line, see-sawing gently, before the arms snap back and forth, as if tugged by an elastic band.

Red-painted, flickering like four flames, her hands and feet move with rapid precision, taking her through a fluid series of steps that are timed exactly to the beat of the drums, the beat of his own cursed energy, humming and writhing. Her dark, dark eyes meet his, and he understands, now, that every movement she makes entwines their energy, tangles it further, a cat with a ball of yarn, edging the threads closer to a woven pattern.

Her hands stretch toward him, shaped in what seems to be something symbolic of a flower. They spread, and he follows the reddened unfurling of her fingers, the crash of the cymbals louder, a portent of her ability.

He sees the incorporeal lotus, the shadow of it on the screen behind her, petals rifling past each other like the pages of an endless book, and her hands are dragging something out and away from him, emptying like fragrance into the room.

This is her domain, and he shudders in sudden understanding, as memories he'd long buried, bruised and raw, come fluttering like a cloud of butterflies to the surface of his mind.

The first time he'd met Haibara, the way the bright-eyed boy had handed him a shared ice cream, that hot, hot summer's day. The way he'd followed Kento, ignoring his grumpy demeanour, pressing snacks and home-made creations (less successful) into his hands. The long days of training, the sudden and pleased widening of his eyes when Kento had let slip that he'd been improving. The muted tones of his exuberant voice when he'd spoken of his sister, of the path he'd make sure she'd never choose.

And that, right there, was that focal point of pain, the sore spot that had festered, untreated, deep in the knowledge of his soul. Haibara had known, all along, the dangers of their job. He'd known, full well, how easily his life was spent by those who did not understand the full value of such currency. He knew that his youth was a fool's game, one that may never be completed. And for all of these years, since his death, Kento had chosen to -

The loud clash of cymbals dissipates those thoughts instantly, the energy permeating the room, surrounding them both, snapping back to her still form, controlled and under her command. She is watching him closely, the tight grip he now has on his knees, the sweat beading on his brow.

She takes three steps forward, legs lifting high in the stylized movement of her dance form, and her palms come together as she bows to him. Instantly, the performer is gone, and she is back with him, no longer in command. She pads quickly over to him, kneeling and touching his leg.

"Hold on to those images for a moment. Tell me, who was that boy?"

Kento pauses, swallows thickly.

"Haibara Yu. A boy who studied at the Tech with me. We trained together."

She does not need to ask what has happened to Haibara. She has seen it, through the binding of her dance. She has seen his death. Her next question catches him off guard.

"Why is his spirit so strong inside you? You carry him with you like a briefcase to work everyday. Why is his reflection on every surface you pass? Why does he force you forward, and yet, drag you backwards too?"

Kento is still, the sweat cooling on his temples. His muscles are rigid, cording. Pain flares along his jaw, where he has been clenching it. She raises a hand, palm up.

"Don't answer me now. Take the next few days off, and think about the questions I've asked."

*******

He does consider it, as she asked him to. In fact, it's all he can dwell on. As much as it robs him of sleep, leaving him tossing and turning, blankets rumpled and damp with perspiration, he thinks that this is better than staring into formless space. This torment is preferable to the endless battle played out against the pale, sterile walls of the clinic.

How long has it been since his pain has been cut out of his chest, a fully formed, hard-edged diamond, the corners so sharp they slice through him at every touch? How long has it been since he's turned over that crystalline fragment in his hands, allowed himself to remember, to cherish, to grieve?

He understands why he could not, before this. There were missions to undertake. Work to be done. Curses to be dispatched. An endless cycle of activity to tear his mind away from such things.

And then, there had been the students. He goes over each of their names in his mind like a mantra. Yuuji. Megumi. Nobara. Maki. Panda. Inunaki. Ino. The faces of children, the minds of warriors, the scars of those who had known their worst fears and overcome them. It was his duty to protect and serve, to keep them safe, and yet ...

If he had convinced himself, so many times over, that Haibara had needed an adult like the one he had shaped himself to be, then why wasn't he needed any longer?

(V) 

Varnam: The Centerpiece

When you see him again, you can't help the smile that breaks across your face. Nanami is a tricky customer. In spite of his natural strength and charisma, you can tell that he is unaccustomed to relying on others for his emotional well-being.

And yet, here he is, standing in the hallway, expression controlled and muted as always. There is a certain tension and guarded quality to his demeanour that is lacking this time around, however. He has seen the extent of your technique. It cannot harm him any more than he harms himself. This, you are also aware of.

"Nanami. It's good to see you."

He nods, that keen eye of his taking in your expression.

"You were not expecting me to return."

It is not a question. You laugh and gesture to him to follow you into the smaller room beside the dance hall.

"I can't say what I expected. But rest assured ... I'm glad to see you here."

He dips his head in acknowledgement as he follows you through the door. You note that he's had a haircut since the last time you've seen him, the flowing blonde hair slicked back on the right side. His surgical patch has been replaced by a soft black one. His walk seems a little steadier, even if he still has to use the sturdy cane to navigate the stairs.

You pour him tea in silence, waiting for him to initiate the topic that you've asked him to consider. He takes a sip, a soft grunt of satisfaction escaping him, before he sets the glass down with that decisive motion you've come to recognise.

"Last time I was here ... you asked me about Haibara."

"I saw him. In your memories. He must have been important to you."

"I said that we studied together. We were in the same year. There was ... a mission. It was assigned wrongfully, by the higher ups. The difficulty level was ... too great for two fledgling sorcerers. We'd held our own against curses before, but this was different."

"And Haibara ... "

"He was killed. I escaped."

There it was. The words seem to exit him easily enough, because he's probably said them many times before. There is a raw quality to them, though, that cannot be disguised. He has never forgiven himself for Haibara's death. You give him a minute before resuming your questioning.

"My technique showed me that Haibara had a sister. He did not want her to become a sorcerer like you two?"

Here, Nanami's hesitance is tangible.

"No, he didn't. He knew the dangers of our work."

"And yet, in your memories, you clearly see him as someone to be protected."

"He was."

The words emerge sharper than Nanami likes, because he tries to lessen the bite of his tone as he continues.

"I believe that the younger generation of sorcerers should be protected at all costs, whenever necessary. It doesn't matter how much they've seen, how much they've experienced. What matters is that they are not robbed of responsible adult figures in their lives, who can help them cope with what comes later."

"Did anyone help you with coping? With dealing with what happened to Haibara?"

For the first time, Nanami does not meet your gaze. There is a softness to this man, that shows in the gentle, considered way he touches objects, the way his dark lashes shadow his cheeks, the way he is always thinking of someone, anyone other than himself.

"No."

His voice is charged, but quiet.

"And so, you think to play this role for the future generations?"

"I hope to. Yes."

You already know what must be done, as painful as it may be.

"Nanami, is it possible for me to meet with your students?"

******

"Nanamiiiinnnn!"

The boy with soft-hued pink hair is enthusiastic in his greeting, none of it contrived. You can see from the way his eyes light up, the way his whole body gravitates to the sorcerer standing beside you, that Nanami means the world to him. The girl with the eyepatch beside him gives a more staid greeting. There is a certain tough rakishness to her bearing that you've come to recognise as well-earned bravado.

It's Nanami you are more focused on. He introduces you to the students who greet you politely, each giving a small bow.

"How's the progress, Nanamin? You look great!"

The young sorcerer, Yuuji, truly means it. He is taking in Nanami with an air of triumph.

"It's slow, in some ways, but I'm getting there, Itadori."

You note how he still refers to them by their family names, even after everything they've been through together.

"Why don't we have lunch together?" you suggest.

Nobara immediately points at Nanami.

"Ask him. He's knows all the good places, in just about every part of the city."

And so, you find yourselves seated at a small soba place, one you haven't come across before. The food is excellent, and Yuuji and Nobara chat animatedly across the table with their senior as they plough through a selection of dishes.

It is now that you notice all of the things that Nanami doesn't.

The way Yuuji constantly keeps an eye on how much his mentor eats. The way Nobara adjusted the table when they sat down, such that Nanami could be more comfortable. The way they both scoped you out with clear protective instinct, forming their opinions of you.

Yuuji keeps up an encouraging stream of comments, complimenting Nanami on his receptiveness to treatment, on his hair, on the fact that he's been getting out more. He asks Nanami's advice on missions he'll be undertaking solo, and with others.

"So, Ino got his grade one promotion!"

"He told me."

Nanami cannot help the small smile that appears on his face. Yuuji shakes his head.

"Ha. I bet he told you before he told his mom."

Nobara snorts in agreement.

"Did you know he's picked up wearing a suit on missions now?"

"He does?"

Nanami seems surprised by this.

"Sure does. Keeps his hair shorter too. Thought I was teaming up with a Yakuza the last time we went on a mission together."

"Surely not."

"Oh, absolutely! He tried acting all cool, until I told him I'd video him and send it to you, and then he stopped with the persona real fast."

Nanami chuckles. It is a rich, warm, hearty sound, one that flickers over the table like the heat of a fireplace. You see the aching softness in Yuuji's eyes, the way Nobara grins triumphantly at having wrung that sound out of him.

And you understand, fully, like you knew you would.

These are no fledgling sorcerers. Nanami can never again offer them the kind of protection he once had. It is obvious that they value him no less for that. He is a glowing lantern of comfort, of hope to them. If he'd ever desired to play the role of responsible adult to these youngsters, then he'd exceeded every expectation and made himself indispensable, and loved.

If only he could see that.

You catch yourself watching Nanami's smile throughout the meal. It is, at times, contagious, at times shy, at other times a sarcastic tilt. He likes sandwiches, as you learn, and Nobara makes fun of the time one of Yaga's cursed dolls knocked a fresh salmon bagel out of Nanami's hand and he'd snapped and almost destroyed the garden it had escaped into.

It's only when the meal is over, and you are gathering up your purse, that you spy Nobara's eyes on you. The curve of her lips is discreet, and knowing.

*******

During the next few weeks, Nanami's physical condition slowly, but gradually improves. He does not ask when you will ensconce him in your domain again, and you do not offer. You feel that there is some fundamental hurdle he needs to overcome before this.

He still comes regularly, though. For someone who lived a regimental lifestyle like he did, you suppose it has something to do with maintaining a routine. Every other day, he is present, and sometimes, you note, he arrives almost half an hour early, watching the dance practice through the glass doors from the room across the hall.

You now leave the chai where he can help himself to it, and the cushioned mats rolled out so that he can take himself through the preliminary stretches while he waits.

The muscle atrophy, that is sometimes expected in cases of severe burns, does not present in any such way with Nanami. You can see, in the firmness of his stride, in the way he is able to balance his weight, in the slow loss of infirmity, that he has been working hard to maintain his strength and regain his physical abilities.

This is not what worries you. It's what comes after.

One month after treatment began, you see him ascend the staircase without assistance from a cane. He looks across the small distance, that bewitching hazel eye so firm, so proud, so accomplished, turning to you for acknowledgement that you cannot help the small sound of delight that escapes you. You also feel your stomach clench in anticipation.

Once in the room, you notice the small hint of amusement on his face, as you serve him from a plate of samoosas. You lift a curious brow.

"What is it?"

"You don't have to look so concerned. I won't be trying to take on any missions."

"I'm not concerned about- "

You cut yourself off, busying your hands with the tea. When you look up again, your breath catches slightly in your throat. He is watching you with what looks like tenderness, one hand still holding the plate you've absently passed to him. He speaks again, leaning back in his chair.

"There is something I haven't told you yet."

"And what's that?"

"About a dream of mine. One I've had for a very long time."

"And I presume it's a good dream?"

"In every sense. When I worked as a salaryman, I planned to save up enough money to retire. Live somewhere affordable, near the sea. Somewhere like Kuantan. I'd finally get to read all the books I'd bought and never finished. I'd live peacefully. Travel now and then."

You hum slightly, considering this dream.

"That sounds wonderful. Do you still think that this dream ... belongs to you? That it can be your reality, someday?"

"I always have. But ... I also know that such dreams come at a heavy price."

"Nanami ... I'd say that you've paid a thousand times over for such a dream."

Your heart twists at the pained knowledge in his glance. You've underestimated his astute nature.

He knows.

"I did tell you that one of the younger sorcerers saved my life, before. It was Yuuji. He found me when I was half conscious, burned, hallucinating about ... but that's beside the point. When I walked through that subway, I kept thinking the same thought, over and over again. 'Haven't I done enough?'"

The silence that descends upon the room is stifling. You clasp your hands over your knees.

"And have you?"

"I don't know, truthfully. Every time I think I have, there is something else. There will always be those who need the help of sorcerers. As long as I am able, how can I deny them that help?"

He is testing the waters, you can tell. Something about the last time he entered your domain must have triggered a curiosity in him, a desire to know just how much you could help him. You're not sure what it is, but you feel a rush of hope, a sense of a dawning breakthrough.

He spoke of a dream, and you know that Nanami never speaks idly. You pour him another glass of tea.

"I have a suggestion. Would you like to enter my domain again?"

(VI) 

Padam: Simplicity

This time, there is no pre-amble. Nanami seats himself on the cushion at the centre of the room with preternatural calm, but you sense the roil of emotions beneath. It gives you a sense of purpose, as you prepare, focusing your technique as you braid your hair and apply the red alta dye to your hands and feet and leave it to dry.

When you enter the room, you see his gaze immediately follow the movement of your hands. You crouch beside him, and something feels different.

Prior to this, Nanami was yet another patient of Shoko's, referred to your family for the kind of healing that physiologically-based cursed techniques couldn't touch. It was the reason that the study of their connection had fizzled out. Practitioners like Shoko were fully aware of the effects, but could not recommend them without a sense of hesitation.

And what was Nanami to you now?

You'd been avoiding that question. You know, full well, that helping him has become a desire birthed inside you as vital as breathing. You want to see him well, you want to see him happy, you want his laugh to echo through the corridors of Jujutsu Tech and his feet to find their way to warm sands and the gentle caress of waves. It is that simple.

(You wish it was.)

Your touch on his abdomen is charged with the weight of this knowledge, the heat that floods your veins intoxicating as he opens himself to you. You feel for the thread that hangs in the still interior of the self, the quivering vibration that changes and slides from his soul to yours.

There. It is different this time.

There is a tug of greater urgency, a rhythm that swells into a powerful current that threatens to snatch away your control.

No. You won't let it.

The reigns twist in your hand, but you pull them further into yourself, taking them, pioneering your way across the ocean of his desolation and uncertainty. You begin the steady rhythm, synchronized with the music of his soul. The drums behind you take it up. The song holds power, heady and fractious.

There will be theater in your performance tonight.

You spring away from Nanami, the connection between you thrumming with latent energy. The visions of his mind's eye flash upon yours, a series of broken images. You need more coherency. And so, you dance.

You allow your expression to mould to a frightening form, eyes wide, shadows gathering beneath them. Your palm raised, the other thumb above it, quivering.

Illumination. Let the soul reveal itself.

And it does. Nanami's form, dragging his feet, fresh, horrific burns across his torso, swimming into your vision. As you take measured steps across the floor, knees poised high, anklets chiming, his footsteps echo yours.

You turn, palms facing floorward and ceilingward, the red seeping between your fingers in the dim light reminiscent of the blood that creeps sluggishly from the raw ends of his scorched flesh. You take his pain into yourself, whirling across the floor.

And then, something startling. Yuuji appears, but not as the heroic saviour. There is a gaping hole in his chest, those bright eyes, fervent with life, now empty and soulless. He collapses with a solid thud and your steps falter.

This is not -

And then, Nobara. Your hands draw back, foot placed on the flesh of the enemy, but Nobara's face explodes in a bloom of scarlet, painting the walls with a hibiscus flare of bone, flesh and matter.

Why is he -

Nanami's face and neck are drenched in sweat, his eyes shut tightly. There are crescents forming in the fabric of his trousers, over the knees, where his fingernails dig into the flesh. The cymbals are now clashing to a faster pace, and you are drawn along, the river of his despair breaking its banks.

You see them, one by one, in-between the rush of your spinning braid, arms and the red flash of your fingers. All of them. All of the students Nanami holds so dear, lifeless, bodies broken beyond repair. A thin, bespectacled man in a dark suit, motionless on the ground, blood seeping from beneath him. Shoko, with her lackadaisical smile and lazy warmth, neck slit, dropping to her knees. Haibara Yu, his youthful face ghastly and pale, one finger raised, pointing.

There is a dreadful sound emerging from Nanami's throat, pain and loss and suffering ground between his teeth to spill into his lap, along with the dampness that rushes from beneath his single, uncovered eyelid. You fight against the overwhelming current, back towards him, the muscles of your legs screaming as his cursed energy pushes up from all around him, a defensive wall.

You're on your knees beside him now, reaching past the battering of his energy, grasping hard at his shoulders.

Come back. Come back to me.

He is twisting in your grasp, his strength all but overwhelming, even in his weakened state. You position your hands on either side of his face, gently, the tendons in your neck standing out with the effort of keeping them in place.

Come back to me.

You are vaguely aware that words are spilling from between his clenched lips, the muffled sounds slowly gaining clarity as you fix your gaze on his mouth.

"Why not me, why not me, why not me, why - "

You feel an answering dampness on your own cheeks as you draw him closer, feeling his cursed energy envelope you, binding you even closer in mind and body.

"Not you, Nanami. Not you. Because your life is not going to be spent like this. Not like this."

Through the atomic engagement of your cursed energy, you feel for the familiarity of him, and you flood his awareness with images that push away the darkness that lingers. Of Yuuji and his kind eyes and watchful care, of Nobara with her brash humour and protective glance. You force him to confront the reality of the others he's buried in his memory, of the bespectacled man scurrying around his office, of Shoko puffing out a dense, white cloud as her head tilts back against a pillar, of the other students, traipsing back in, exhausted after a mission, of a young man pulling a ski mask over a cheeky, lop-sided grin.

"They need you, Nanami Kento. They need you to be alive and well. That's all they've ever wanted."

Your voice has lowered to a whisper as your domain is finally able to manifest, unfolding in the absence of his resistance. The many-petaled flower blooms in shadow, until the shining heart of it breaches like a whale's head above the turbulent waves.

And Nanami is enfolded in your arms, head pillowed against your shoulder, as your voice draws his drowning mind inwards, a solitary lifeline.

*****

Nanami does not return for his scheduled appointment the day after, or the time after that. Two weeks go by with no sign of him. You debate calling Shoko to enquire after him, your concern growing like a viper, hatched in the pit of your stomach.

Something holds you back, however. The same idea that forces you to confront what Nanami Kento has become to you. Your technique alone is based on facing the uncomfortable truths buried deep in your soul, and your feelings for him are no exception.

You cannot, in good conscience, call Shoko when the man you have come to care for so deeply wants nothing more to do with you, or your domain. The best thing for both of you would be to remain as silent ships, passing each other on the vast ocean, as Nanami gradually finds his way to the uncertain shore of recovery.

You cannot help but wonder, though, if you did truly have some impact on him. Had it worked? Would he now make more positive changes in his life that you would simply remain unaware of, or would he ignore all the progress you had made since the first time he'd stepped through those doors? You had to make peace with the idea that you'd probably never know.

(It still leaves you breathless with hurt, remembering the tender scent of him that remains on your clothes.)

******

Nanami does return, just not in the manner you'd expected.

It is a cool spring day, a full month after the incident in the dance hall. You've just come down from your apartment on the third level, wrapping a scarf around your neck and steeling yourself to brave the chill. You hear footsteps on the stairs, and you will your heart to a regular beat as their steady pace and weight sounds familiar. You've long given up the chance of seeing him again.

And then the distinctive wing of blonde hair makes an appearance past the rickety balustrade, followed shortly by the rest of him, and something in your chest constricts, because all of your discipline and mindfulness is about to fly out the window, and -

He mounts the final stair, pausing as he takes you in, in your outdoor clothes. You are trying, failing, trying so hard not to read too much into his expression, but there ... you see it. His eye kindles; the warmth of it floods the narrow space between you two, seeping into you down to your bones. No scarf can replicate this.

He steps forward, uncertainly, face twisting slightly in pained apology.

"Am I ... I hope you're well."

"I am. You look ... "

He is finally clad in the form most natural to him, a tan business suit, dark blue shirt beneath, a speckled tie cast to one side by the wind. His hair has grown drastically in the time he's been absent, one half of his scalp covered by a short growth of luxuriant white. He wears a dark glove over his left hand, presumably protecting the sensitive burnt skin there.

He is walking, completely without aid, only a slight stiffness betraying the original severity of his injury. All the elegance, strength and beauty you saw in him at first glance, now magnified beyond your comprehension, because something else is different.

His soul, the Atman that had struggled like a wounded tiger, frantic and torn, beating against its constraints, is not whole. Not just yet. It is, however, expanding beyond the borders of his body, exuding that confidence and grace you knew were such a vital part of his being. This is Nanami, the shackles of his mind trailing with uncertainty behind him as his gaze seeks yours.

You take a breath, but he holds up a hand.

"Please, let me speak first."

Seeing your slow nod, he seems slightly relieved.

"I apologise sincerely for not coming sooner. I felt that ... I needed to make progress on my own, to come to terms with what you'd shown me, before I came here once again. Above all I was ... "

Those rich, mellow tones of his drop to the range of the barely audible.

"Above all, I was ashamed. Of how obtuse I'd been. Of all the things I'd missed. I had to make that right somehow, to work harder to show the people who care about me that I can learn. That I can change. That I can ... think of myself and prioritize my well-being."

You are vaguely aware that you've drawn closer, a hapless moth, fluttering closer to a consuming flame.

"And are you at such a point now? You can really think of yourself?"

He huffs a soft laugh, eye traveling slowly, softly over your hair, your face, your lips.

"Yes. Yes, I think I can. If you choose to forgive me, maybe I can accompany you on your walk now?"

******

It is not the only time he walks with you. Nanami starts to visit again, regularly, but not just for yoga and exercises. Many of his visits are social, calling on you with a small gift of some edible treat or other that he'd discovered.

He tells you that he has started working at the Tech again, but in a purely advisory capacity, holding special seminars for younger sorcerers on the dynamics of co-operative missions, prioritizing the safety of oneself and teammates, strategy and appropriate preparation before missions.

He watches each young face that peers earnestly at him from the audience and feels a sense of peace, that he is doing all that he can to help them survive the harsh world that awaits. He is also liaising with various counseling services, trying to build a solid foundation for sorcerers who require emotional and psychological support.

You listen to each of his endeavours with delight, especially when he asks if you are willing to be part of this new co-ordinated team, bringing your area of specialty to the table.

Other times, you sit on the balcony with him, watching the ebb and flow of humanity in the city below, your bubble of tranquility untouched. These times are the most precious to you, because that is when Nanami's shoulders ease, when the lines at the corners his eyes deepen with merriment, when he tells you stories of places he's visited, people he's come across, anecdotes from his days as a salaryman and the latest exploits of the students.

There are times when he leans in close, when your breath halts at the verdant, warm, masculine scent of him. There are times when you pass him a steaming glass and your fingers brush the ends of his, and you notice that he always takes off his glove when he sits with you. Sometimes you stand, side by side on the balcony, your upper arm pressed slightly against his, revelling in the sweet, solid proximity of him.

It is one one of those occasions that you turn to him, to point out a new store that has opened not far away, and you see that he is watching you. There is no shame in his glance, only a gentle wonder that weaves a golden bridge between the both of you. Your voice is soft, reverent.

"What is it?"

"I'm remembering the first time I saw you dance."

"Oh?"

"You were teaching a class, as I recall. I remember standing by the door, watching, and some time later, your eyes were on me. And I realized that I couldn't remember anything that had happened in between."

He reaches for you, the glove absent, and you lean into his touch without hesitation. His fingers are light, so light, as they trace across your temple, your cheek, the corner of your lips.

"And ... during our second session, when you held me, I knew that I couldn't continue like this. That you were using the strength of your soul to heal mine, and that if I didn't do my best to understand what you had shown me, then all your effort would have been for nothing. I couldn't accept that."

Your forehead finds purchase against his, a natural movement that echoes the press of your palm against the substantiality of his chest.

"And now?"

"Now ... I can walk beside you in the sun."

The taste of his mouth is a nectar you've never known you've craved. It is heady, a fiery joining of soft and rough, the edges of the scar tissue tracing along your lips like the light drag of a fingernail.

You open your arms to him once more, and this time, he stays.

(VII)

Thillana: Revivification

After learning the soul, learning the body is as natural as breathing. You were hesitant about touching him, wondering how much he'd allow after his injuries. You needn't have worried much on that account. As much as he makes your heart flutter and sing with his praises, with his eager, gentle touches, with the growing harshness of his lips against yours, all that he seems concerned with is how to use his body best to bring pleasure to yours.

You have seen the barest desolation of his soul, and its healing, and the damage to his body means as little to both of you as the muted rush of traffic outside your small apartment.

His urgency is sweetened by the clumsy tug and pull on zips and fastenings, on the shedding of clothes, the soft exhales, painting skin with warm moisture in between the frantic pace of your lips and his.

His hands are so large, spanning your ribcage as you lead him to your bed, circling and finding purchase on the dip of your waist. His body is a moving furnace that warms you as you stumble and clutch at each other, the ripple of muscle like an unseen beast beneath the waves as your palms explore his shoulders, arms, torso, hips.

Kento's skin is a map of hidden treasures, the smooth, tawny, gold- flecked expanse of chest meeting the ridges of scar tissue halfway across. The new growth of white hair on his scalp is downy soft between your fingers, in contrast to the silky texture on the right. His powerful thighs slide between yours, the forward thrust of his hips spreading you open to receive his weight.

He is not forceful, and yet, takes the reigns of your intimate dance almost as if by instinct. He pauses above you, propped on his hands, chest heaving slightly as he takes you in, his amber-shot gaze misty with adoration and lust. You reach up,  tracing the firm line of his nose, the sharpness of his jaw, the sinew of his neck. Every new angle you spy reveals more, that elusive, predatory beauty that never fails to enchant you.

His head dips, the blonde strands falling forward softly against your skin as he kisses a line of fire down your torso, quickening your breathing as his tongue flickers against your flesh. He holds you down, pressing you firmly into the mattress as he worships each breast, lapping, suckling, savouring.

He moves further down, and your sharp breathing devolves into whispered pleas and whimpers as he nudges your inner thigh softly with his nose. So deliriously slow, so decisive, as in every action he takes, he devours his way to the apex of your thighs, sliding his hands underneath you as you lift your hips and present yourself further to him.

The feast he has been waiting for lies open beneath his gently probing fingers, their honey smearing over his lips as he tastes you, eye snapping up as a breathy moan escapes your lips. He laps at you with heady abandon, that smoky, devoted gaze never leaving the contortions of your face as he brings you to each hard-won peak, drifting you back down to a mellow lake of blinding pleasure.

Your fingers slide and catch on his shoulders, anchoring yourself as blood thunders in your ears, and a rising storm, electric and charged with fresh potency, builds at every ultra-sensitive point of contact. He is your passionate guide, leading you to a shining horizon, familiar and yet fraught with the overwhelming knowledge that he is the one who pulls you over the edge of the thundering waterfall.

You are submerged, the shake of your limbs and the hoarse cry of your voice reaching up from beneath the surface your senses have yet to emerge from. When they do, you glance down at him, past your heaving chest, at the blaze that roars within him as he beholds you splayed out, breathless; an offering.

He takes it.

The slow crawl of his skin, sliding against your damp flesh, the brief touch of his mouth at the hollow of your throat, the brush of his nose against yours. He takes your lips in a soft request for entry, groans into your mouth as you trace the ridges of his spine. 

Kento is almost too much for you, the burning vitality that steals your breath, the fullness of your arms as they embrace all of him. The air rushes out of your lungs as the hardened press of his length breaches you, fills you to overflowing.

He holds you close, so close, as if he could meld your bodies as you had once done with your cursed energy, ragged puffs of air escaping his lips to collect like clouds in the evening sky of your hair. His movements are slow, dragging tears from the corners of your eyes, drunk and blissful moans cocooned within the slowly rotating vessel of your lovemaking.

You are at sea with him, around him, washing over his starving self and nourishing his spirit with every slick press of your bodies together, every arch of your back, every trace of his scarred skin, every gentle touch of your lips to his brow, cheek, mouth. He is now taking as well as giving, rolling his hips hard into the widening harbour of your thighs, soft grunt and pants deepening in their urgency.

The unfolding within you is different, completely out of your control. A wild, reckless dance, the rhythm ever-changing, golden threads running like molten metal between the undulations of your bodies. The flower of your combined desire unfurls, petal by petal, each dropping to the floor as new layers of delight and abandon are reached.

The bed creaks beneath the weighted push of his thrusts, his hands flying to your cheeks as your cries grow louder, louder, raspy and choked. This is the true face of passion, the complete submission to the will of your lover, the way you take all that he gifts you with and reciprocate with the finest nectar that slides from the deepest parts of you, soaking the sheets beneath you.

It is here, it is here in the glazed film of his eye beneath dusky lashes, the sweat between his body and yours, the heat that stretches on and on to an infinity within your knowing and snaps-

Washing over his ears in your sharp scream of release, in the wanton covering of his mouth with yours, the ecstasy of a thousand fluttering birds within the cage of your ribs. This time, the gentle ripple of your tide pulls him forward over the edge, his deep groan of guttural satisfaction reverberating through your whole body as his hips stutter and still their frantic pace.

You lie with him, afterwards, limbs entangled, aware only of the shift of his nose against your collarbone, the tightening of his arms around you, the way you wrap yourself around his form, as if to shield him, just for a moment, from the world he has been born into.

Kento. 

Brightness, shadow, mellow and hard-edged, the loveliness of everything in-between. 

Yours.

How can you ever call it anything other than love?

(VII) 

Mangalam: Gratitude

To be in Kento's presence is to discover a thousand tiny precious shards, hidden in the silken folds of your changing life, piecing them together to form a diamond of unparalleled value.

He is quiet, stubborn, brave, resilient, mischievous and agile of mind. He challenges your thoughts on the jujutsu world, brings summer to your heart and draws you into the sunshine of his embrace. The fractured nature of his soul is not one that can be undone, but weeds (hardy and weathered) have grown through the cracks and your own flowerbed finds a home there, gently blossoming.

You are reminded of every richness he has brought into your life on one summer night, in the aftermath of a taxing mission for some of the students, when he meets them for supper and a discussion of what had occurred.

This time, Megumi is also present, and he reminds you a little of Kento as he watches Yuuji's animated re-enactment of the battle, rolling his eyes at obvious embellishments, adding a solemn word now and then. Kento leans forward on his elbows, listening attentively, as always.

When Yuuji is finished, Kento sits back, contemplatively sipping his coffee.

"What you've described is certainly concerning. I'd take this information up with the research committee as soon as you've filed your report. They may want to know details like that."

Yuuji nodded fervently.

"Already on it. I've been looking it up and there was a similar surge in cursed energy in Okinawa a few years ago. Pretty much leveled a small village. I'm not taking any chances with this one. I've texted Ijichi about sealing technique specialists and requested a team to map out energy signatures in the surrounding area. Anything I may have missed?"

You take note of the small smile that graces Kento's face, the pride that spills out along its sharply defined edges.

"No. You've done well, Yuuji. It's exactly what I would have done under those circumstances."

"Oh?"

Yuuji's surprised expression quickly morphs to something else, a deepening realization that silences him and brings a tight, tender quality to the set of his mouth.

Kento has called him by his first name.

********

On the slow stroll back to your home, you link your arm with his. The night sky is flecked with faint stars, unusual to see in the normally smog-laden sky over the city. You speak into the comfortable silence.

"Yuuji handled that well."

"He's a born leader. I've always thought so. He has the confidence and drive to be the strongest, not just in technique. Not to mention the magnitude of what he's already accomplished."

He pauses, one finger idly tracing over his eyepatch.

"I noticed it on our first mission together. He was not just a young sorcerer, going through the motions, trying to survive. He genuinely felt for the victims of the curse. It ... reminded me of Haibara, a little."

He gives your hand a small reassuring pat.

"Not that I've ever confused the two. They're fundamentally different. But Yuuji ... Yuuji had a light inside of him. He made me take note. He made me see him, and his spirit."

Your fingers entwine with his, tugging his hand up to your lips.

"Your spirit is quite marvellous too, you know."

He eyes you sideways, slyly.

"It is?"

"Of course."

"Would you like to elaborate?"

"Fishing for compliments, are we?"

"From your lovely tongue, always."

Your laughter echoes in the silent street, stretching out along the sidewalk, shimmering in the puddles that had formed after the rain.

"You are beautiful, Nanami Kento, and you're- "

You never finish that sentence, as his hands draw you closer, his lips finding yours in the glow of the street lamp. In that moment, you can think of nothing else apart from the man who strides with quiet confidence beside you, on every conceivable path to an unknown future.

He is a red-painted center, kindling in the palm of your hand, the tiger that inhabits the secret garden of your heart, the flame in a gilded brazier that never goes out. 

************

[just-jordie-things]

stupid little crush - fushiguro megumi

word count: 1.6k warnings: slight swearing, megumi’s prolly a bit ooc summary: megumi’s got a stupid little crush on you  more info: characters are aged up to general college period a/n: I whipped this lil fic up bc I want to get back into writing, if people are into it I'll try and stick with it (and add jjk to my taglist!!) so pls give me feedback! ___

Shopping with Nobara was more like shopping for Nobara.  Telling her what she looked good in, carrying her bags for her, collecting more items for her to try on, it was truly a full day event.  And you, Yuji, and Megumi, were like her little minions, doing whatever she pleased.

Well, Yuji went along with it.  You and Megumi tended to be a little more sarcastic and grumpy than him.  But still, it was fun.  After all it was a day off from curses.

But as soon as there was a chance for you to sit on a bench outside and set down the weight of all the shopping bags on your arms, you went for it.

“You know, carrying these around all day just ends up becoming exercise,” You say to Megumi as he sits down beside you.  “So when you think about it, it doesn’t really feel like a day off”

He gives you a small chuckle as he carefully places more bags on the ground, not wanting any of them to tip over.  He’d seen Nobara choke out Yuuji for dropping a bag once.

“Do you enjoy this?” He asks, catching you off guard.

Megumi was probably the most reserved person you had ever met.  And while it did add a bit of mystery to him that you found charming, it also meant that whenever he would initiate conversation, you heart would stutter in your chest, and suddenly you weren’t as extroverted as usual.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, spending your day off like this” He clarifies, hands weakly gesturing to the bags surrounding both of your feet.

“Oh,” You hum, and shrug your shoulder.  “I don’t mind it.  I’m just happy to hang out with you guys” You smile at him, and again, his brows furrow.

“Really?”

“Yes,” You reply with a short laugh.  “What, do you not like hanging out with me?”

“What! No! Of course not! I-I mean yeah- I mean-!” Megumi stammers over his words, trying to find the right thing to say.  “I mean I do like hanging out with you”

Your cheeks feel a little warm as he bashfully admits what he was trying to say.

“Relax, Fushiguro, I was just messing with you” You say, not realizing that you’re easing his nerves.

“I guess I just figured it must be boring” He says, trying to save the conversation that he was single handedly killing.

“Are you bored?” You ask him, a small smile on your lips.

“Well, no, but-”

“Cool, me neither” You reply, your small smile growing the longer you look at him.

You’ve always thought Megumi was handsome, anyone with eyes would.  But right now, with the light blush on his cheeks and his blue eyes shined so bright when the sun was in them and- it was enough to make a girl swoon.

He turned away in a desperate attempt to hide his blushing, but you knew.

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, by the way,” He says out of nowhere.  “You can just call me Megumi, like the others”

A smile bloomed across your lips that was brighter than he’s ever seen before.

“Okay, Megumi” You reply.

He smiles back sheepishly, but he doesn’t regret it.  He’s been meaning to tell her for a while to knock it off with calling him by his last name.  He just hadn’t found the guts to talk to her long enough to mention it.

“Oi, lovebirds,”

The pair on the bench jumped in surprise when Nobara was suddenly behind them, Yuji by her side with five more bags in his hands.

“Time for lunch, let’s go to the food court” She says, already walking off.

Yuji snickers into his hand while you and Megumi gather the bags again.

“What’re you laughing about?” The urchin-haired asks him with a scowl.

“She called you lovebirds, because you looked like a couple!” He says with a teasing lilt to his voice.

Megumi’s about to roll his eyes and tell him to shut up, but then you start giggling along with the idiot.

“Yeah, I guess we probably did,” You say with a blush.  “Sorry about that, Megumi”

And then you walked off to catch up with Nobara, leaving the grumpy boy to wonder if he can handle you calling him by his first name like that.

“Wow!” Yuji whisper screams, nudging his friend with his elbow.  “I think she totally has a crush on you!”

“Why would you think that?” Megumi grumbled, walking a bit away from him.  

He didn’t need to be teased anymore than he already had.  And he definitely didn’t need false hope.

“She smiles at you a lot, you make her laugh-”

“She does the same stuff with you and Nobara, that doesn’t mean anything”

“Okay, well she also chose to sit out here with grumpy old you instead of shopping with her two bestest friends in the whole world” Yuji added.

“You guys are annoying when you shop together.  I’m sure she’d rather take on Sukuna than do that”

“He didn’t like that, but he’ll let it slide, because he’d like to see her try,” Yuji muttered.  “But, I mean, she also told me that she had a crush on you, so that adds up too”

Megumi froze in place, while Yuji just kept walking along, too casually for Megumi’s liking.

“Wh-what-?” He asked weakly, his voice barely coming out.

“Yeah, last week.  She said you’re cute but she wanted to spend more time with you to figure out what she’s feeling.  But you’re lucky you’re my best friend because she told me that in confidence and if I didn’t already know you had the hots for her then I wouldn’t have told you, but just want to see you guys be so happy together!”

Most of Yuji’s ramblings went in one ear and out the other, as now Megumi was stuck in place.

“Should I go let her know you feel the same then? That way you guys aren’t so awkward around each other-”

“How did you know we’re awkward around each other?” Megumi muttered to himself, but before he could get an answer, he had to chase down Yuji from going to get your attention.

Suddenly he felt like a eight year old kid with this stupid crush of his- that had already blown up, but now was growing far out of proportion.  

She told Yuji that she liked me? She talked to Yuji about me? And she told him that she thought I was cute? Cute? And she wants to spend more time with me?

Shaking off his trance, he looked back up, seeing his friends had gotten quite a ways ahead of him, and were talking amongst themselves.  It looked like Nobara and Yuji were arguing over one of the shopping bags.  Typical.

And then he caught eyes with you, as you had stepped back a bit from your fighting friends.  Their shopping bags were abandoned at your feet as you held two takeout boxes in your hands.  You smiled at him sweetly, and then made your way over to him.

“Here,” You held one of the boxes out to him as you got close enough.  “I was starving and they moved on from arguing about a jacket to arguing about lunch.  I figured we didn’t have to wait for them to make up their minds”

Megumi blinked, before tentatively lifting a hand to take the food from you.

“You… you got this for me?”

You laughed, nodding your head.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want it” You say, popping open your box to let some of the steam out.

“No I- I want it” Megumi stammers, opening his own to see what was inside.

You tried to stifle your giggle this time.  You didn’t want Megumi to think you were laughing at him.  You just thought he was so darn cute sometimes that it was funny…

“Thank you, is what I meant to say” He tells you, and you nod back at him.  

“No problem,” You hum.  “Like I said, we shouldn’t have to wait to eat just because those two are at each other’s throats”

“Yeah,” Megumi agrees with a short laugh.  

Then he clears his throat and his hands tighten noticeably around the box of food.  He’s getting nervous, and you can see it in the way he shifts his eyes around everywhere but your own for a few seconds.

“Maybe, um, I can repay the favor… sometime”

Your face heats up, and your beam is impossible to hide.

“Yeah?” You agree, unsurely as you’re not entirely sure if he’s insinuating something or not.  “I would like that very much”

“Okay, cool” Megumi says, the tension in his hands and shoulders releasing with a sign, and he starts to pick at his food.

“I’m free friday night,” You told him, still grinning.  “Now come on, let’s go see if they figured their shit out”

You’re linking your arm through his to drag him over to your arguing friends before he can protest, but he happily goes along with you.  Even though he does blush with embarrassment when Yuji gives him a grin and a not-so-discrete thumbs up.

But for the rest of the day, you sit with him, walk with him, and joke around with him.  You’re almost always by his side, and as the day goes on, he feels less awkward, and gets far more comfortable.

It’s nice.  

He wants it to feel like that all the time. ___

I hope ya liked it :3 xoxo ~ jordie

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Can you write a yuji x reader oneshot where she goes on a mission by herself & finds one of sukuna's fingers. She tries hiding it from the others bc she knows when they find all of the them yuji will be killed. pt 1/2

Pairing: Yuji x F!Reader

CW: Angst, mentions death

Notes: I'm not sure if I like this one but TwT here you are, thank you for waiting.

It’s a blessing you survived, a curse that you did. You stare at the mishappen red finger, bigger than your entire palm, in your hand.

The first thought in your mind isn’t that you need to turn this into the school before more curses come looking for it, attracted by the aura radiating off the small piece of Sukuna. It’s “how many does this make now?”.

As you start your walk back to the school, you try to avoid thinking of the answer, knowing that it would only raise your anxiety, but your thoughts keep going before you have a chance to stop them.

Eighteen?

No, Nobara found one two months ago.

Nineteen.

This finger you found makes nineteen now.

When you first started this journey, you didn’t really think much of Itadori other than being the misfortunate boy who is a vessel for the ticking timebomb known as Sukuna. But when you spent more time with him, you started to see him as his own person, the most empathetic and caring one you’ve ever met.

You’d heard how he protected his classmates from Fushiguro despite being powerless. How Yuji swallowed the first finger to save him. By the second, he sacrificed himself so the rest of you could escape that deathtrap detention facility. Three fingers and it was the flower curse. But no matter how much good he did for you and your friends, it would still end up with him being executed by no fault of his own.

So, it only made sense to keep this secret to yourself, hide it on your person by coating its presence with your cursed energy, and prepare to fight every curse that thought it had a chance to steal it from you.

It didn’t really matter how many times you had to reject invitations from your friends, nervously creating a distance to protect your secret, or how you have to brush off their concerns when you’d return to school with dirt and scratches covering your body.

You didn’t mind, choosing to continue through the long and tiring days, because you felt he would do the same for you all if the situation was reversed. So, you’d sacrifice some of your life if it meant he could keep living.

“That’s a nasty bruise you got there.”

You stop writing your notes to look at Nobara. There’s concern in her eyes as she examines the fresh bruise on your face. “Did you get in a fight?” she asks, brows rising ominously, ”Do I need to teach someone some manners?”

You realize her question has drawn the boys' attention to you as well, and you become anxious under the pressure of your teammates’ stares. You couldn’t very well tell them that you had indeed gotten into a fight earlier that morning. Your remaining cursed energy had been about to tap on empty, which made it more difficult to hide the finger’s presence from other curses. “It’s from training,” you lie with the first excuse that comes to your head. “Maki-san has really been putting me through the wringer.”

“Sheesh, ouch, you should really tell her to ease up on you. I’ll go with you if you want,” you hear Yuji say, the sweet boy frowning at you; embarrassed, you gently hide your bruise behind your palm.

“There’s no need to go through the trouble.”

Kugisaki sighs. “Yeah, but that isn’t the only thing. You’ve been looking pretty tired lately, I could lend you some of my make-up but if something is bothering you, you should really do something about it,” Kugisaki offers, but you shake your head as you focus on the resonating echoing in your pocket.

The finger is calling to something, and it feels like it’s coming fast.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you tell them and stand from your seat, quickly searching your brain for some kind of excuse to leave and find a place where you could deal with the issue of the incoming curse on your own. “I’m going to go see if Shoko can heal it for me. I’ll be back,” you explain, leaving the three together in the classroom.

“She’s lying,” Fushiguro announces as soon as you’re out of earshot, drawing the others' attention to him, their faces asking how he could possibly know. “Maki has been out on a mission for the last three days.”

-

The stains of your blood paint the lamppost behind you in splatters of red. Your head is pounding, blood pouring into your line of vision, blurring your sight as it coagulates on your lashes, making it difficult to focus on the lizard-like curse in front of you.

You didn’t expect this of all times would be when your body decides to break on you. You’ve been exhausting yourself the past weeks and growing more exhausted with each battle.

You were still winning though. As long as you have the finger in your possession, clutched between your hands safe from the curse’s grasps, you were winning. As you roll out the way to avoid another attack of the lizard’s outstretched tongue, you wonder how long you can last at this rate.

Your best option would be to head back to the school but what happens after the curse is exorcised? If Gojo realizes you have Sukuna’s finger, he’d certainly feed it to Yuji, but you had to do something about this monster.

For better or worse, you no longer have to make that decision as black fur blurs past your vision to attack the curse.

“Doggy?” you ask impulsively. That means Fushiguro must be close and before you have time to even look in the direction the attack came from, Itadori steps into your field of vision, a colorful aura of curse energy surrounding his fist as he punches through the curse. It roars at him but is quickly stunted by the nails flying its way. “Yuji! Nobara!”

Relief washes over you along with nervousness as the three of them take on the curse in front of you, defeating it in less than a minute, allowing all their focus to come back to you.

Nobara was busy trying to clean off the blood from your face while Yuji keeps fussing over your wound. “How did you guys find me?”

“You’ve been acting weird lately, so we had the dog follow you," Kugisaki explains.

“I see,” you answer, refusing to meet her eye now that you’ve been caught especially since Fushiguro keeps narrowing his eyes at you, irritated at your nearly fatal stupidity.

“How long have you had that?”

“A month," you answer honestly. "I’ve been using my curse energy to try to mask it but it’s too much.”

“You should’ve brought it to Gojo as soon as you found it,” he scolds and stretches an open hand to you. “Here, I’ll hold onto it.”

You wrap your hand around the finger tighter, drawing it closer to your stomach to protect it from any prying hands. “I got it.”

“(y/n), you don’t have enough cursed energy left to be holding onto that thing,” Yuji agrees, “Let Fushiguro handle it.”

“You can’t have it,” you quietly but determinedly reject.

“(y/n), are you crazy? You got attacked because of it,” Nobara screeches in your ear, making you wince.

You shake your head.

“Come on, we have to turn it over to the school,” Fushiguro says, bends down, and begins to pry at your arms like a parent trying to work with a fussy child.

“Stop it!”

You fight against him, growing more desperate when he begins to unlock your fingers one by one. You’re half tempted to bite him when he cuts in front of your face to pull you back.

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Because I don’t want Itadori-kun to die!”

You swing your arm to push him away, but your confession already has Fushiguro loosening his grasp and reeling back. You bring your possession back to the safety of your torso, squeezing it tighter against yourself so it won’t drop from your shaking hands.

“If I take it back to the school, Gojo will tell Yuji to eat it,” you explain, pausing to sniffle and restructure your voice to something understandable rather than the sobs you want to let out. You couldn’t get the sight from out of your head, the room of charms, the light leaving his honey brown eyes. “When the higher-ups find out, they’ll put all their energy into finding the last one so they can hurry and execute him. So, I can’t let you have it. I can’t.”

A heartbeat passes then a second before you’re shuddering and sniffling against the skin of your knees. Everyone shares the same look, entirely unsure what to say now that the mournful reality they’ve been ignoring and near forgotten is forced to come to the forefront.

When the gravity of the situation is absorbed, it’s Itadori that makes the first move to comfort you. His large hand caresses your shoulder.

“(y/n)-chan.”

“I-I can keep it safe,” you say but your voice is so muffled that it sounds like a whisper to those around you, “I just need a little sleep, and I’ll be fine to fight after.”

“I appreciate the thought, but you know I can’t let you do that.”

“Then, we could take turns, or, or-.” It’s pitiful, the way your sniffles rip through you, rendering you speechless. Itadori kneels to your level and cups your face in his hands to make you meet his eyes.

Itadori can’t lie and say he isn’t scared of dying, that he doesn’t remember all the regrets flashing behind his eyes whenever his life was on the verge of ending. The fear doesn’t disappear when he looks at you either or when his fingers grace over the cuts on your cheeks. But those jagged cuts on your soft face dull out any sort of heartache he feels when his thoughts drift to what’ll happen when he reaches his goal.

“I’m doing this because I don’t want anyone to be hurt any longer by Sukuna and that includes you.” He rubs his thumbs under your eyes to push away the tears falling on your cheeks. “If you were to die trying to protect me, then getting rid of Sukuna would be pointless.”

He was determined in this goal, even if he knew it’d mean dying. At least he could say he did something good, all the pain and suffering end in peace for the people he cares about even if only a little, even if it’d be painful for them at first.

The gaze in his eyes tells you to please trust him and this cruel mission set upon him, and it strengthens you enough to pull away. You slowly open your hand and offer him the cursed object in it. It leaves your hold, and you can feel it sink into Itadori’s palm, nothing but the slight wetness of a tongue glancing against your skin as Sukuna swallows it into his body.

Black tattoos flare on his wrists. You catch your gasp in your throat, holding onto it tight, or else you’d start to cry again. Like always, Itadori stores Sukuna away, marking disappearing just as fast as they came.

“See, everything’s fine,” he attempts to calm you.

In your heart you know that it wasn’t okay, wasn’t anything shorter than wrong but you’re so tired from the last few weeks you can’t do more than push your head to his shoulder and exhaustedly cry for what seems like forever.

Time ticks by slowly as the others let you cry it out in Itadori’s arms. You’re already dry on tears, left with nothing but dry weeping from swollen eyes. Megumi quietly lets the scene play on, a little glance here and there but too uncomfortable to stay focused on it, while Nobara had already turned her head away, no doubt trying to cover up her own whimpering.

Itadori keeps hugging you, trying to comfort you in a situation that he knew wasn’t ever really going to be better. It’d only get worse from here, and the last thing needed was a misplaced ray of sunlight breaking through the seriousness of the situation.

“So, this is where you all went. I was worried when none of my precious students showed up for class, so I thought you might’ve been playing hooky. But I know none of you would want to miss the chance to learn from me.”

The smile stretched across Satoru’s face is quickly replaced by a flat line when he absorbs more of the situation, hears the cracked cries of your voice scraping at his ears.

“What’s wrong with her? You three haven’t been bullying her, have you?”

“As if we would do that.” Nobara sighs loudly as she gazes back over to you, “…(y/n), found another of Sukuna’s fingers on her last mission.”

“Really? Nice.” Satoru says. It had to be the sixth one you found on your own. Satoru always knew you were a good luck charm, but it still did nothing to help him understand why you were so upset. “But that still doesn’t really explain anything.”

You let out a few sentences, ones that are too garbled to understand for Gojo in your hysterics.

“Gojo, are you sure Yuji has to be executed? Isn’t there any way you can convince the higher-ups?” Megumi translates, his own curiousity rising as well.

“No way, they hate me,” he answers, his eyes still on you, gauging your reaction. Breath short, you choke on air. He’s almost certain you’re going to send yourself into an anxiety attack at this rate. He understood the why, thought about the little hints of longing you showed towards your classmate, about the smiles you only save for him, about how you’d eventually have to learn the same lesson Okkotsu had.

Love is the most twisted curse of all.

Just not yet, not when you should be happy with the precious little time left.

Strutting over to you and Itadori, he places a hand on your Itadori’s head affectionately. “But turns out, I already have a master plan in place to help out my boy Yuji here, so you don’t need to worry your pretty head about all that stuff, (y/n).”

Yuji scrunches his face. There’s a swath of confusion in the air as he pipes out a “really?” but he quiets when he hears you sniff and finally lift your head back up.

Small like a child’s voice, you ask, “You do?”

The others are silent as the confident grin returns to Gojo’s face. “Sure do.”

You’re shaky, hesitant to believe him. Though, it’s Itadori who once again brings you back, “See, (y/n), we can let Gojo handle it. So, let’s go back already, you must be tired.”

Seeing the concern disappear from him, you feel your own also draining. Quickly, your body and soul give into physical and mental exhaustion. “Can you get up?”

Resolve cracked, you rub your reddened eyes as if trying to wash away the remains of your heartache. “N-No.”

Itadori’s hands clasp around your arms, warm and welcoming as he pulls you up to your feet. “Alright, upsy-daisy.”

You wobble on your feet, and Yuji steadies you in his arms. “You want to hold my hand?” he asks, and you nod, a pathetic yes leaving you as you intertwine your fingers with his. Satoru pushes lightly at your back, gently ushering you forward to walk towards the school, towards home.

Nobara and Megumi follow, lagging far behind. Nobara notes how your sniffling had considerably lightened even as you still swipe at your face with your free hand.

“I get that he’s trying to help spare her feelings, but was it really a good idea to lie like that? I’m sure Itadori picked up on it, but it doesn't really feel right to give her false hope like that."

Kugisaki could admit that Gojo did talk you out of your depression easier than she could imagine but would holding off the pain you feel now be worth the pain and anger you’d feel later. She didn’t really think so.

“There’s probably some truth to it. He is him after all."

“Even if that’s true, do you think whatever it is will work?”

"Well, this is still Gojo we're talking about. So any plan he has will consist of him making up things as he goes, so probably not,” Megumi answers bluntly, honestly. He had no doubt that Gojo would probably try something, but he didn’t have hopes in the odds of whatever it was working out, not with the number of people hoping for Itadori’s execution to come to pass.

Kugisaki regrets asking as it kills her own hopes for any sort of happy ending for the two walking hand and hand in front of her. “Do you think we should tell her?”

Megumi sucks on his bottom lip to stop the impending shaking. The air around you is a bit softer. There’s a sliver of calm back in your stance, and he couldn’t bring himself to be the one to take that away.

“No.”

[sakuraryomen01]

In the King's Throne /King! Sukuna x Queen! Sakura/

Sukuna Ryomen x Oc (Sakura Akuma) -> I made this cuz it's my freaking bday!! >:3

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Warnings: Pegging, teasing, throne room sex, riding, pleading, private audience, Servant! Yuji, multiple rounds, masturbation (male), degradation, exhibitionism, slut calling, anal (male receiving), ass penetration, dom! oc, fucking on the throne, threats of eating spilled cum, spanking

Reader: Sakura Akuma, she/her, Queen Ryomen

Plot: Sukuna, the King of Curses, has his needy cock taken care of by his wife..~

Words: 1.223k

A/n: So yk how in drama or writing class, there's that one period of time where we learn about Shakespeare writing..... I did that :)

~~ Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy!!

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Why must you feel such things? That's what he asked, as the lady pressed down on his prostate, a squeal eliciting from his already sore throat.

"Does thyne feel full?" The wife asked, gripping the king's hips and thrusting with ease.

Disgusting doing thyne act in thyne king’s thrown.

"Art thou enjoying such splendid punishment, my lord?" She asked, reaching an arm around the lord's hip.

The feeling of his member grazing her finger tips for a moment. A moan escaping him, embarrassingly so.

"Punity is not needed for the king!!" Sukuna whined, lifting his head and feeling his front press against the cold metal of the throne.

His body warm in compassion to the gold of the seat, his wife's unrelenting assault on his poor rump was sure to leave a bruise.

You have no sympathy. No remorse.

That's what his thoughts slurred, though the feelings in his loins didn't lie, and the tightness of his hole told the wife dearly. He enjoyed it, being used like a plaything, a puppet toyed by the puppeteer.

"Satisfied?" she asked when the white cum of his sperm was released, staining the throne's fine cloth and leaving marks.

"Quite the opposite.." Sukuna retorted, a hungry look in his eye as he glared down at his mistress. "Do it s'more, Sakura.."

The wife's cheeks reddened at the notion of more punishment, and she couldn't deny the desire to do more. Seeing her king in such a vulnerable state was like getting a present on Christmas.

"If that's what the lord wishes, then the wish he shall get," She whispered, bringing he lips to his ear and kissing his nape.

A shiver being sent down the spine of the cursed king, a twitch from his lower organ being a signal to the former servant.

"Thou shalt leave until I cum, agreed?" Sukuna asked, managing to reposition the pair to sit on the throne.

The cum from before staining the mistresses dress, a vulgar sight if witnessed by the court of Sorcery. "Agreed."

The wife watched as the king sat on his new throne, the thick of the strap slipping into his small hole as he made his way down. Sukuna held tightly to her shoulders, a burning in his gut as he descended on the toy.

"M-Mmmph, fuck.." He mewled, his mistress slapping his ass at the lewd words leaving him.

"You're not supposed to speak of such words, Sukuna." Her tone was threatening, the knot in Sukuna's groin ached.

He wanted to cum, to release and make his wife feel pleased, though he knew he'd look pathetic as he did so, much like a bitch in heat rather than a king.

"I-I apologize, my lady.." A desperate groan left him, the arch of his back making the woman feel blessed. "Tis feeling is too much to bare, mistress..!"

"Longer shall you wait to cum," Sakura's voice was a calm tone, though the feeling of a threat was lingering in her words.

Gripping her king's hips, she lifted him up and let the mewls of his voice echo throughout the throne room as he rode the plastic cock of his wife.

"O-Oh! Y-You feel heavenly, darling~!" He cried, tears brimming at his eyes when he felt the sting of his ass.

"So good, filling my insides and splitting me open on my throne! Thy king has never felt so good in his life!"

Sakura's hold on the new slap mark was making the lord go mad, Sukuna was sure that the Gods were taunting him with this unyielding pleasure. The threat of being punished by Sakura's hand made him sob, wanting that release soon.

"Your cock is brimming with pre, Sukuna." A gentle hand squeezed the base of his hardened shaft, her soft hands rubbing him lewdly as he continued to bounce on her lap.

"Art thou pleading for release? You can beg for it; you're allowed to, king."

And that he did. His pleas for that awaited orgasm were being spewed from his pink lip, his eyes teary and face reddened. Sukuna, the King of Curses, was a slut for his mistresses touch.

Though, the sounds of Sukuna's cries weren't quiet to all. The eyes of a pure servant, Yuji, was staring at the throne intently. His heart thumping loud in his chest as he watched his King bounce on the mistresses fake appendage.

The scent of a male in lust is filling my nose, it's so intoxicating..

His own front strained against his pants, the slapping of skin being too much for him as he reached a hand down into his trousers and stroked himself to the sight.

"Lovely cries, my lord." Sakura's hand was brought down on Sukuna's ass again, the stinging burn becoming pleasurable as he situated to face away from the wife's eyes.

Sukuna's hands perched him up as he continued to ride the toy, feeling the burn of another climax egging him on. Yuji's hand worked faster, seeing Sukuna's engorged tip spilling out load after load onto the marble floors, ones Yuji cleaned himself.

Had he been cleaning up cum from the king this whole time? Was this something that had happened regularly?

"My lady! I'm going to cum again!" Sukuna arched his back as far as it could, the fat of his ass slapping her thighs in a delicious manner.

The memory of this day would surely be of help later on down the road.

"Go ahead, paint the floor in your colors, Ryomen." She sneered, hooking her around his waist and making him moan.

Hearing her refer to him as his last name made a shameful shiver run down his spine. "Once it's spilled, I'll make you eat it up like a dog."

Yuji's tummy ached, a load wanting to be poured like Sakura ordered, though he knew they weren't for him. They were for the king, Sukuna, the one on top of her thighs.

The one pleading for a release; Yuji didn't know what to think. He wanted to be Sukuna so badly, so much so he was willing to beg. But he knew that role wasn't for him.

He was a servant to the mister and mistress. A butler used for cleaning and taking an order, not being rewarded with pleasure like this.

"C-Cumming!"

Fresh cum poured from Sukuna's cock, spilling down the sides of the tattooed member and dripping to the floor. Veins pulsed on the slowly softening erection, slowly dipping as Sukuna's eyes stayed a pure white.

His eyes rolling to the back of his head at the climax he was given, his wife's hands coming up to gently tease his chest and go down to pump another load from his balls.

"Thou looks beautiful when he's cumming," Sakura cooed his hot ear, teasing him by nibbling on the shell of his ear and thrusting up into his hole.

His prostate sent another load from him, though the shot wasn't as strong as it's previous bullets. Yuji clasped a hand to his mouth, pressing his back into the wall. His climax hitting him like a bull and almost bringing him to his knees.

Sakura heard the small mewls of the servant, a smirk gracing her lips as she tended to her tired husband.

Maybe.. Just maybe..

He could join the king and queen on their next venture..?

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A/n: Lol self indulging feels good every once and a while so I might do more than just one Sakura Akuma (OC) post.

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[soxcietyy]

Dollhouse

In a world where females are not commonly born you are kidnapped and taken to the kingdom of Valgore to be sold off to whoever can afford you. The General of the knights Yuta Okkotsu who isn’t sure if he wants a wife, takes you in but you arnt going to make his life easy by submitting yourself to him.

Tw: bad language, violence, drinking, beating, woman being mistreated, abuse, murder, rape, things that may trigger people.

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

"Everyone I need you in pairs for tonight's shift. We have another dozen of maidens coming in and last time we lost one." Yuta says glaring at Yujis way who slowly averted his eyes down.

Yes Yuta knew it was Yuji, no he wasn't going to say anything. Whats done is done. What was the point of getting him into trouble to?

"I know we are all exhausted with having training but what I have noticed is most of you just know how to shoot. Nobody knows hand to hand combat. I believe you shouldn’t only rely on a weapon. Know how to defend yourself and your family’s. So today I introduced you to Maki" Yuta says stepping away from the entrance door. In came in Maki in a pure black uniform. She was also stacked in medals but not as many as Yuta. Her boot heels clacked with every step sending shivered in some of the guards spines. She didn't look like a girl who wanted to be swooned by a man she looked like she wanted to kill them.

"She will be training you guys in groups. Half of you will take A day the other half B day. Now please be polite, she's definitely someone you shouldn't mess with or underestimate just because she's a female." Yuta said stepping back giving Maki the chance to speak.

"I will be training you on hand to hand combat from now on. I will not tolerate any attitude or talk back. I will not treat you as your mother, think of me worst than your general." She smiles making sure everyone understands. From Yutas knowledge she comes from a family where hand to hand

Combat was a normal practice for them. The king had found her and asked her if she wanted to help out in the army. Of course she didn't hesitate the money was good. Not that any of these men should know that because they would be furious finding out she got payed more than them.

"Your dismissed." Yuta says waving them out of the meeting room. He was tired of all this non stop training and work. For some reason it seemed as if work piled on him more and more. Other than the paper work back home. His lovely wife learned now to read and write so she did majority of it only leaving the important documents to him. Walking to his office he sat down slouching on it. All he wanted was to go home and relax. Oh how much he died to just see you right now, for a shoulder massage, your sweet kisses or your adorable facial expressions. He just wanted you to be here to bring him at ease. A small knock could be heard from the door snapping Yuta out of his thought. "Come in," Yuta said as he sat up straight. In came in Yuji with a shy smile.

"Hey General Okkotsu I was wondering if I could talk to you in private about... you know what." Yuji said looking around to make sure nobody was here.

"Of course sit down." Yuta said as he dug in his drawer throwing a gift box on the table. Yuji looks up at him confused on what the special occasion was.

"A gift from my wife to yours. Your having a child after all." Yuta gestures him to open it. "After being home most of the time she took up a hobby of sewing." Yuta continued.

He watched how Yuji carefully opened the box and pulled out a small pair of socks and a beautifully made blanket that looked so warm. They lived in one of the kingdoms with the longest winters so this would truly come in handy. "Thank you I'm sure she'll greatly appreciate it, but why didn't he give it to her instead?" Yuji said putting it back in the box.

"She wanted you to see it first knowing how anxious you are. She hoped it would bring you to ease. Now what did you want to speak to me about?" Yuta asks.

Yuji took a deep breath before speaking."You know how I basically kidnapped Alice, I don't have any marriage documentation so how am I supposed to take her to the hospital when she's ready to give birth?" Yuji asks worried that she might be taken from her.

Yuta sat there thinking about it. He could probably steal a marriage certification or replace her with one of the other girl and make him buy her. He could get in deep trouble if they knew he kidnapped her. Maybe he could even talk to the king and convince him to let it pass. Everyone was always fond of Yuta and did anything he asked.

"I'll take care of it don't worry." Yuta finally said.

"Really? That was quick." Yuji perked up. "How's y/n? Any signs of pregnancy?"

Yuta let's if a chuckle. "Iv been watching her carefully for a months and she shows no signs of it. She doesn't mind bed room activity's either so I'm assuming she's not. She completely fine and I don't plan on telling her that I almost got her pregnant. " Yuta said kind of thankful for the outcome. It's not that he didn't want a kid he just wasn't ready. He was barely getting the groove of being a married man. Having a child would absolutely kill him.

"But you came in her how is she not going to know?"

"She wasn't education young so she shouldn't know plus it was on accident. I was in the moment and forgot to pull out." Yuta confesses. "Haven’t made that mistake again." He smiled.

"How do you feel about being a future father?"

"It's pretty overwhelming I won't lie. I don't even know anything about taking care of kids." Yuji sinks into his chair.

"You'll be working all day with me I doubt you'll have to worry about that. Plus Alice will be with

y/n until we figure out your marriage situation. Just make sure she has everything she needs and save up for the kid because from my knowledge your bank account isn’t going to look pretty. Happy wife happy life though.Those two girls have gotten so close that I'm pretty sure they tell each other things they don't tell us. "

For a second Yuji could of sworn he saw Yuta pout. But before he could say anything someone slammed the door open.

"General! We have a problem going on and it urgent." A man ran in frantically.

"What's wrong? " Yuta said standing up immediately.

"We're being threatened! The neighboring kingdom their here!" He yelled.

Yuji and Yuta looked each other with worried expression as they ran out. It was currently seven pm. The sun was close to setting and it was getting colder. As they ran you could see their breath smoke out of their mouths. From the small amount of information gained they needed to follow the crowed of soldiers that where running in the same direction. He had absolutely no idea of the situation all he could hope was that it wasn't going to be the same incident from years ago.

Both of them quickly made it to a crowd of soldiers and people.

"Go home!" Yuta yelled at the civilians who were trying to figure out what was going on. Yuta didn't know the extent of the situation so he did what was best and that was to evacuate everyone from the area. They currently stood in front of the kingdoms entrance. People going in or out were stopped and sent back.

"Soldiers, make way." Yuta yelled getting their attention. They all cooperated and spread apart leaving a walk way for Yuta. Before going in he looked behind to make sure Yuji was still behind him. He motioned him to follow behind him.

Walking down there was nothing but silence. He could see some worried glances from his men but he decided to pay no mind to them. Eventually he made it to the front to be met with a man. He was taller than Yuta and looked more buffer. He wore a green uniform and had tons of medals. If he had to take a wild guess this was the General of the other side.

"General Okkotsu it's been a while hasn't it?" The man said taking a step closer.

"It sure has been General Geto" Yuta said putting his hand on his sword.

"I don't see Gojo anywhere, what must of happened to him?" He looks at him with a smirk.

"Sorry I'm not able to say private information. Enough of the small talk why are you here?" Yuta backs away not liking how much this man towered over him.

"Getting straight to the point I see. I'll cut it short for you, you guys cut of trade with us and our king isn't too happy. So we came here to deliver a message." He smiled, "We have a five year contract and will not easily be discarded. If you stop trade we will take action." It was true they did have that contract. It was established after the incident since they couldn’t come to a agreement.

"Sorry and why are you telling me this? I don't take part of anything political other than war." Yuta crossed his arms.

"Just a message to send to your king." Geto said raising his hand making his men turn around.

"I hope we see each other in the future Yuta." He said before taking his leave. Yuta watched him leave making sure he wasn’t trying to pull something. What the hell was the council doing? They knew how dangerous the other kingdom is why would they suddenly stop trade?

"For fuck sakes, can I get a messenger?" Yuta yelled into the crowed. Clearly pissed off. They were not about to do the most idiotic thing ever. Why not maintain peaceful?

___________________

"When are you going to tell him y/n?!" Alice said as she patted your back. This was your third time puking today.

"Tell him I'm pregnant? You know how Yuta is he's always so worried over the smallest things! Plus he already has enough on his plate if I tell him I'm sure he's going to faint." You said as you flushed the toilet.

Alice sighs as she helps you up. She was three weeks ahead of your pregnancy and you could already see her bum. Soon you'll be seeing yours too. Being fifteen weeks pregnant wasn't fun.

"Do you want some tea?" Alice asks

"No it's fine I just need a break, I need some rest I'm exhausted." You sigh sitting on the couch.

"You need to tell him y/n he’s going to be upset that you didn’t trust him enough to to tell him in the future." She says grabbing your hand. Rubbing circles on the back of your hand with her thumb.

"It’s not easy to care for yourself on your own while pregnant, You need him. "

"I guess your right"

"It's getting kind of late no? Where are the boys?" Alice asks looking at the door worrying.

"They are probably having a meeting or late shift. They'll be back soon don't worry. You shouldn't be getting stressed it's bad for the baby." You smile handing her a blanket to get comfortable.

The first time you met her she talked her ear off about how Itadori had saved her. How she fell in love with him because he was trying to calm her down when she was having a breakdown. You wernt really surprised that his method consisted of making jokes. She spoke about how he treated her like royalty by doing everything for her. Even the smallest things you wouldn’t need help with he was right their.

Before Alice could say anything the front door open letting a cold breeze come in.

In came in the boys looking very sleep deprived. Their uniform was dirty and their hair was a mess. You couldn’t blame them they had been working day and night shifts lately due to short staff.

"Welcome home boys! Can I get you anything? Nice cup of tea to warm you up?" You ask standing up to greet your husband. His tired eyes follow you until you reach him embracing him in a hug. You felt of he shifted all his weight on you making you stumble a bit. "Yu if your going to sleep do it on the bed." You say pushing him up.

"Yes I know and I think I rather head to bed than drink tea." Yuta says as he starts pulling you up stairs. Even if he was tried he had a tight grip on You making sure you didn’t escape him.

"Um guys make yourself at home! Don’t be afraid to grab anything!" You say to your guest. Due to Yujis "kidnapping" he had to keep a low profile of him and his wife. So they were staying here until they get things straightened out. You didn’t mind you enjoyed the company and bonding over pregnancy. Something Yuta hasn’t realized yet.

After getting ready for bed you sat on the bed as Yuta started taking his uniform off.

Maybe Alice was right about telling him the truth. Everyday that goes by seems to be making Yutas work harder.

"Yuta I wanted to talk to you about something…" you say watching him get into bed next to you. He shifted until he was comfortable to speak again.

"What’s wrong? Wait before you say anything lay down with me I’m cold and would appreciate having you as my heater." He lets out a small laugh as he helps you get under the blanket. You could feel his cold hands grabbing your waist bringing you closer to him. His breathing tickling the back of your neck. You turn your body to face him. Cupping his adorable cheeks into your hands.

"Yu your going to be a dad." You say sweetly as he started to drift to sleep.

"Dad" he mumbled as he placed his head in the crook of your neck.

"Yes your going to be a dada." You giggle

"Dada" he mumbled once again before quickly sitting up. "Dada?" He said with wide eyes.

"Your pregnant?!" He quickly uncovers the blanket from you placing his hands on your tummy. Your stomach didn’t have much of a shape to it yet but if you really felt it you could tell.

"I’m going to be a dad?! Why? No wait since when? How long have you been?"

"Yes, because you got me pregnant, every since you came in me, and I’m 14 weeks pregnant."

His jaw dropped, he must be a real idiot for not noticing.

Tags 🏷: @hannya-exists @pinkraindropsfell l @halparkebitch @mokonasenpaiposts @a10vely-yutazen

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE ELEVEN || NARROW-MINDED

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + nanami kento + ieiri shoko (mention of itadori yuji + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru + roymen sukuna + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda + mahito) from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 12 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.0k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : idle transfiguration

↳ next episode : to you, someday

↳ barista’s notes : welcome nanamin kento to the series everyone ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ he’s finally in the series and i am so excited to write about him again since it has been a while ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ i hope you enjoy today’s episode and for the fushiguro x y/n shippers, enjoy this little interaction between them...

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode..

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“No reason, just worried about you,” Fushiguro mentioned, hiding his real intention of why he questioned your wellbeing, as continued to look at what was in front of him to avoid making eye contact with you since he could feel your eyes peering at him with curiosity filling them.

Sighing once again, you slap the back of his head causing him to groan since you put more strength than you intended to. “You shouldn’t worry about me Fushiguro, be selfish,” you commented before walking faster to be ahead of him, leaving him confused about what you had just mentioned to him.

“Be selfish?” Fushiguro muttered in confusion leading you to turn back to look over your shoulder before smiling at him.

“You were going to take me there right?” you asked, as you halted your movement causing the shikigami user to finally catch up to you while you had a lingering question in the back of your mind.

‘What was that dream?’

                                              ꕥ

“Didn’t I say you can head back to the track field, we’re literally a few steps away?” you asked, as you stood in front of the metal door leading inside to the infirmary while looking at your classmate with a fed-up look since he wasn’t listening to you once again.

“I said, I was going to take you here and now I’m going to wait for you here,” Fushiguro mentioned as he processed to lean against the wall, causing you to let out a sigh of frustration since you didn’t have the slightest clue on his sudden behaviour of him keeping an eye on you.

“If you’re still worried about my wellbeing, I’m okay Fushiguro,” you voice out trying to ease his worries, before turning your head to look at the door in front of you as you then entered the infirmary room the second the metal door slid open. “Thank you for waiting for me,” you quietly muttered to the shikigami sorcerer as the entrance that was going to block you both, slowly began to close leaving him on the other side, no knowing what was going on inside of where you were now.

Once you had entered the room, you quickly noticed that Ieiri was there twirling a strand of her brown lock with her ibex finger as she greeted you with a small smile, while another person - who you assumed was another sorcerer - who was beside her sitting on the metal bench while holding the side of his hip to lessen the blood loss from his wound.

From what you could observe, the male that was currently injured right now had bright blonde locks, which was strange since it was rare or uncommon for a Japanese person to have naturally light hair (since it didn’t seem dyed) causing you to assume the man had some European heritage. He also seemed to be on the older side compared to Gojo since he had somewhat of a more mature look to the strongest sorcerer that you had come to know but his outfit consisted of a blue dress-shirt with beige suit trousers as well as the professional dress shoes - what seemed to be missing was a blazer to complete the outfit.

“So you're the daughter that Gojo has been talking about lately,” the man mentioned, causing you to tilt your head in confusion since you had no idea who the man was, but he seemed to know who you were.

“Pardon?” you questioned politely since you were still in a state of perplexion, causing your mentor to giggle slightly before informing you that your teacher has been running around announcing his daughter after “keeping it a secret for 5 years” leading you to turn your head to the side and sigh once again in annoyance since you weren’t surprised that the playful sorcerer was parading your name around the facility but still it seemed a little creepy to you - just imagine him skipping around while telling everyone about you just seemed off...weirdly off.

‘What a drag…’

“Ah! I’ll heal you now since we don’t want to leave the wound open any longer,” you mentioned, as you made your way towards the sorcerer before placing your hands just above his wound while concentrating to allow your negative cursed energy to become positive which became easier over time as you kept practising leading Ieiri to be surprised on how much you had improved for the past few weeks.

“Gojo Y/N correct? I’m Nanami Kento, I would bow to be polite but that’s a bit difficult to do right now,” Nanami introduced himself, causing you to smile slightly before greeting him back.

‘So this is Nanami Kento? Shoko-san wasn’t kidding when she said he was a grade one, he does seem to be extremely skilled’

“Y/N, your theory was right about the technique used on those bodies, Kento mentioned that the technique reshapes the soul rather than the body of what we first thought,” Ieiri revealed to you, leading you to look up at the doctor with widen eyes as you hands managed to continue the healing process of Nanami’s wounds.

“Is there any way to stop the transfiguration of any sorts? Is there some kind of weakness to it?” you questioned, as you turned to the grade one sorcerer, leading him to nod as he turned to look at you.

“The use of cursed energy to protect your body is one way, but it will still cause some damage, besides that’s just a temporary solution since if we get hit more by this special grade curse, then that’s when our soul gets hit no matter how much cursed energy you put to protect yourself,” Nanami explained which lead you to look at him with a deadpan expression before you looked down to think of a solution to avoid any more casualties from this curse.

‘The only thing I can think of is Ryomen Sukuna...but Itadori is dead and there is no way that Sukuna can be inhibiting his body now anyways…my cursed spell could be a way to protect myself if it comes to the day I have to face him’

“Do you have a description of what the curse looked like?” you asked curiously since you didn’t know if you were even allowed to have any information on his mission - but you knew you had a chance since you and Ieiri examined the transfigured bodies from Kinema Cinema.

“The curse was human looking like, had patchwork around his face like it he was sewed together, he can transfigure is own body to how he likes to give him an advantage in battle,” Nanami explained leading a shiver to go up to your spine as you didn’t expect the curse’s description to be so human-like after Sukuna since you were completely used to other curses you had faced in the past, looking like what people feared - like the ocean animals, mountains, volcanos or even nature itself.

Steadily, you moved your hands away before asking Nanami to lift his shirt so you could examine his wound leading Ieiri to observe as well since she needed to make sure that your technique had been perfected as well as to make sure his wound was healed properly.

“Good job, I think you have nearly perfected it,” the doctor stated with a smile, leading you to turn to her with a bright smile on your face as you were delighted to have her approval leading her to mention that she will report your progress to Gojo since he wanted to know how you were doing with your training.

“You don’t call Gojo your father?” Nanami questioned since he had come to know from his senior that you have been his daughter for approximately five years now leading him to question why you didn’t call him as his parental figure position.

“I refuse,” you looked at him with a straight face as a slight hint of a ‘fed-up’ tone could be heard in your speech, leading Nanami to internally find the comment funny.

“Thank you for the treatment, but I must quickly head off to resume work,” Nanami declared as he slowly got up from his seat causing him to be surprised at how much your technique had actually repaired not only his wound by somewhat his whole body as well leaning him to peer at you for a second before walking out to head whatever he needed to be.

“Y/N, you can go now, if I need you, I’ll call you next time okay?” Ieiri stated to you, leading you to nod your head before announcing your departure as you processed to stand in front of the metal door, waiting for it to open as you then walked across the gap once it revealed the other side to you.

“You’re done?” someone asked, causing you to look to the side to notice that Fushiguro was still leading against the wall that he was waiting before you had entered into the infirmary to which you were surprised about since you thought he didn’t have the patience to even wait for you.

“You’re still here? Did you wait long?” you questioned, as you both began to walk back to the track field where Kugisaki and the second-years were waiting for you.

“Not really, it was actually quicker than I thought it was going to be,” Fushiguro mentioned causing you to nod along and you both became silent as you both didn’t know what else to say to each other.

However, that didn’t really bother you right now, what was bothering you was what happened before you even came here.

‘Why? Why was I dreaming that in the first place?’ you thought, as you looked down to the ground as if the answer was there for you to collect. However, you knew you would never get the answer if you didn’t make the effort to find it yourself, yet you didn’t want to.

You didn’t want to know the meaning behind it. You just wanted to forget everything that happened in that dream. 

‘There’s no point in holding on to it, it would never happen’

“You okay?” Fushiguro asked, causing you to snap out of your thoughts before realising the shikigami user was no longer beside you but rather in front of you with a stern look on his face as if he was confronting you for somewhat giving him a white-lie.

‘He’s not going to let that question go huh?’

“I’m okay Fushiguro, how many times I got to answer,” you commented before moving to the side to continue walking, only for the erratic-haired sorcerer to block your pathway once again leading a flame of annoyance to be lit up in your stomach. “What’s wrong?” you asked, as you looked up to meet him eye to eye, only to discover a worried look on his face.

“There’s something bothering you,” Fushiguro muttered causing you to scoff internally before moving to the other side again, only for him to block you once again. 

“Fushiguro, I’m fine, it was just something silly that happened with Gojo-sensei that annoyed me, I’m genuinely fine,” you answered before suddenly grabbing his wrist - catching him by surprise - to pull him towards the direction needed to go back to the track field for training, as you didn’t want a full-blown argument happening between you and him. Also, you weren’t bothered to shout at him since you were still trying to comprehend what you had just experienced.

However, before you could pull Fushiguro further to where you both needed to be, you felt him halt his movement causing you to stagger back slightly since it was really unexpected. Turning your head, you looked at the sorcerer with slight confusion displayed on your face before noticing a hand coming towards you as a small flick made a light impact on your forehead leaving you frozen in shock.

“You can rely on me anytime L/N,” Fushiguro mentioned to you nonchalantly as he retreated his hand back.

“Dear, rely on me a bit more, I’ll always be here with you and sorry for flicking your forehead, does it hurt?” 

“You drag, don’t copy me!” you argued, before slapping his forehead causing him to groan in pain while you continued to pull him along to get back to training.

‘I want to, but I don’t want to be lied to again Fushiguro…’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[4dtk]

pas de deux — gojo satoru

pas de deux [pa•de•de] (french, literally “step of two”), a dance duet. 

summary: striving to become a principal dancer, you’re unaware of the curious blue eyes from across the studio, only knowing of his reputation from rumours. when you have to shadow your seniors to learn a principal role and meet the infamous gojo satoru, what happens then?

word count: 11k lmfao

genre: a bit of angst, mostly fluff

a/n: gojo brainrot done. sorry this took so long lol i’m not used to writing long fics but i’m glad i did bc this is acts also as a place for me to dump my passion of ballet aha :”)

playlist here! most of them are classical pieces and a bit of ballet class music, i hope you don’t mind uwu. personally, i’d recommend watching (before or after the fic doesn’t matter hahah) the crazy talented marianela nuñez and vadim muntagirov in the pas de deux that i reference a lot in this fic. they’re my absolute favourite! (´･ᴗ･ ` )

tags: @fiona782​

it was unconventional to see a ballerino don white hair during rehearsals, let alone in a company; the familiar head of white whizzes through the studio like an angel of the night, with graceful moves and powerful jumps to match those of a faerie's seamless manoeuvers through her flowers.

that was only expected out of a principal anyway.

gojo satoru, a principal dancer of the six eyes theatre. they were part of the three prominent companies that carried the ballet world and industry. behind all the glimmer and glitz lay hours of endless rehearsals and worn-out pointe shoes, as well as smiles behind kitri's fans or even the emotional miming from giselle.

he was untouchable, a leading face that carried the ballets he starred in with immense skill and an aura admired by everyone. anyone lucky to score a pas de deux with him would be torn between a world of conflict. those soft eyes that looked down at you with love were solely meant to portray siegfried's ardour for odette and nothing else.

you sigh, eyeing the confident man giving his all in the company class, no doubt hyping himself up for tonight's last show. you couldn't fall behind, either, knowing your performance was monitored way more now that you were considered amongst the directors to be promoted to principal.

"next group, pay attention, loves!" the teacher for the morning caught your attention, letting the chattering group in front head out first before the next group of dancers took their turn. 

dancing was all you could remember, taking up most of your life even when you were a kid. through competitions and gruelling schedules, you managed to land in the six eyes theatre. sure, it wasn't as popular as the zen'in company or the kamo national ballet but, it still held up a wicked reputation, partially thanks to gojo satoru. 

your feet naturally hail your command, placing it behind the other in a curtsey to thank the instructor for the morning class as you stretch your feet in some simple pointe repertoire. 

"nervous about your posting, (y/n)?" nobara asks, rolling the arch of her feet back and forth with a tennis ball.

you shrugged, "in a way, yeah. i'm getting observed on mainly every move that i make."

the smile your best friend gives you calms you down, at least. megumi chipped in, "hey, you'll become one of the best principals around, i know it."

"yeah! and we'll go to your shows, no matter wha... oh, right, we're first soloists," itadori trails off. 

you laugh, settling down to wipe the sweat from your brow. however, there's an uncharacteristic silence when you start to remove your pointe shoes.

"what if i do become principal? i'll miss you guys like hell." you mutter, rubbing off the skin peeling from your toes. removing the tape and toepads, you sigh again even after nobara lands a hand on your arm.

"stop sighing, you idiot, the company's small. sure, you'll have extended rehearsals, and i will now have to deal with yuji's noisy ass, but i doubt we're going to be separated like oil and water." 

you roll your eyes, chuckling a little through glossy eyes, "true. it's just that we've always been together, through the competitions where we met and going up the ranks. hell, i wouldn't even imagine all of us becoming first soloists when we entered six eyes."

megumi raises an eyebrow, "are you underestimating us?" 

putting your fingers together, you offer a sheepish smile, "just a little."

"and now you're going to become a principal, (y/n). we all know you put yourself to crazy standards that you always reach, maybe even higher than that. you're going to kill it as a principal, i'm sure."

thankful to nobara for the little speech, you pat her arm gently, easing into a stretch to prevent any tensing up later in an afternoon class. 

"(y/n), they're coming over, look sharp," itadori notifies you, turning to the barre to do his own stretching as your friends busy themselves with their phones.

you take another curtsey at your instructor, along with the director of six eyes, masamichi yaga.

why... was he here now?

"(y/n), love, we'll need to talk to you about something. would you mind coming to the office later on? just before the company's afternoon class at 2 would be good."

you were at a loss for words.

was i already raised to principal? no... they wouldn't promote someone who's only danced her first soloist role a couple of times. were they going to remove me for consideration? maybe they found a better dancer to monitor?

"it's nothing terrible, (y/n), i promise." with a smile, masamichi walks away, not before patting your shoulder for reassurance.

the next few hours go by in a flash: eating lunch, lazing around in the studio, filming some tiktoks and then getting ready for another class took up most of your time that you didn't get to ponder over the office visit.

so you were definitely surprised to see gojo satoru himself, a shit-eating grin on his face once he hears you enter. he lays back on both arms to welcome the first soloist, you. 

you curtseyed again to ms ieiri and masamichi. before you got to gojo, however, he held a hand up before standing up himself to bow. you let out a small smile as the familiar step led you to curtsey on the other foot.

it left a weird feeling in your bones to greet a principal dancer, but you two weren't all that close, anyway. plus, curtseying was basic courtesy in the company, where actions spoke louder than a "good morning" or a "thank you".

"nice to see you, (y/n). miss nitta, as you know," masamichi gestured to your teacher and then to the white-haired man, whose beauty never fails to amaze you, as cliche as it sounds, "and gojo satoru." 

"nice to finally talk to you, miss (y/n)," he nods his head, wearing an attractive smile that had you sucking in a breath. you could only manage a smile at the moment, brought back to reality when masamichi's firm voice resonates in the office.

"you've done a tremendous job these past few months, love. we've been watching your roles this season, hopping from one position to the other with no problem at all. i'm sure you were informed that you were being considered to be principal..." you leaned forward in anticipation, "...although you'd have to let your skill shine through more before we promote you to principal any time soon."

bummer, but it's nothing you can't handle.

"we do have something to ask of you, however. your potential is clearly set in the right place, and your talent and determination are not lost. we want you to shadow and learn the repertoire of shoko ieiri and gojo satoru while they rehearse for the next season's premiere."

nevermind, it might actually be something you can't handle.

"me?"

masamichi only lets out a knowing smile. "are you up for the challenge, (y/n)? you'll get to learn and watch how principals rehearse, act and mime out the story in the hands of ballet masters and mistresses like kiyotaka ijichi and mei mei and even tengen hoshi." 

your fingers dug into your thigh at the well-known names, always seeing them in the corridors but never knew how they taught or conducted rehearsals. this was your chance.

"of course, director masamichi. i'd be honoured to observe and shadow the company's principal dancers, let alone miss shoko ieiri and mr gojo satoru here. their chemistry onstage is honestly unmatched!"

okay, shut up, (y/n). you're laying your fangirling thoughts on the actual director of six eyes theatre. a simple yes would've sufficed.

"great! you start tomorrow. skip the afternoon class and come straight to the studio on the ground floor. we'll be expecting you."

you couldn't help the grin that appears on your face this time, passing a bow to everyone in the room before curtseying and almost exclaiming a "thank you!"

once you're out of the professional eye, you have a little celebratory dance outside the office, immediately fishing out your phone to text the trio. 

"a...ah! gojo senpai!" you take a step back in instinct, the tall principal looming over you with nothing but an intimidating air around him.

however, nothing screams intimidating on his face, as he shoots you a polite smile and a hand to get introductions out of the way.

all you can think about is his large hand enveloping yours while he tells you his name. you're stuck in a trance, locked on his eyes cut off by the black of his sunglasses. 

how would those hands feel on my hips when he's lifting me? or maybe we'd engage in a kiss in romeo and juliet...? are we doing r&j for the next season's shows?

fuck.

"uh- yes, nice to meet you too, senpai! i-"

"call me gojo, (y/n)."

you're at a loss for words, the man knowing he's left you speechless with the way he's smirking off into the other direction. you manage to get the prodigy out of your head, willing yourself to get to the company class as soon as possible. since your distraction was gone and the air cleared of any tension, you were able to hear the voices in the office.

"are you sure about this, nitta? we can't have any more dancers off their game just because they were enamoured with satoru to the point of confessing their love to him. every time we get first soloists and principals to pair with him, something always comes up."

"i'm sure, director. (y/n)'s mettle and focus on her roles are strong, and her skills are off the charts. if anything happens, we'll just pair her with another principal, like kento or something." masamichi sounded unconvinced, grunting as their footsteps increased in volume.

company class! company class!

you slipped into the studio just in time to avoid nitta and masamichi, carrying your things as you looked for the trio.

"(y/n)!" yuji catches your attention, although a little too loudly for your liking. you were left to greet the other dancers on the way to their corner, dumping your bag with much more exasperation than you expected.

"what's wrong?" megumi asks, doing some plies at the bar to warm up his feet and muscles.

"i think i should text y'all instead. let's wait for after the show tonight."

you get three nods from the trio in reply, dropping into some simple stretches as the next instructor takes over. at least gojo wasn't here...

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

the applause was deafening as you take your bow, thanking the audiences from the balcony and stalls as you gestured to your pas de deux partner, megumi. putting your hand in front of your heart was a big thing to do, giving thanks to one of your best friends and partners for a fun pair such as bluebird and princess florine. 

as you walked back to join the other dancers, the principal roles were taking their bows with no doubt roars and cheers from the audience from yet another electrifying performance from the golden pair as princess aurora and prince florimund: gojo and ieiri. 

as ieiri led the conductor on stage, he was the last to thank the audience, bringing the heart of the ballet to life with the score of tchaikovsky's sleeping beauty. 

with one last bow, the curtain closes, leaving you to let loose from the rigid position you were used to. 

"we're done!" you laugh, hugging megumi as nobara and itadori squeeze their way through the many dancers on stage. the two convey their compliments, prompting you to nudge the two on their puss-in-boots and white cat roles. the two then freeze up, staring at something that was approaching from behind.

"miss (y/n)-" gojo bows, interrupted by ieiri as she crashes into you with a hug.

"oh man, (y/n) you were great out there!" you grin, embracing her as tight as she did. 

"thank you, senpai," you were practically beaming, thankful she still remembered you after being promoted to principal years ago. it was hard to communicate and talk when she had so much going on, a natural dancer who rose up the ranks fast with her hard work. 

ieiri formed herself up into a refined dancer that you wouldn't think she was the young girl at your studio trying on pointe shoes for the first time years ago when you were a kid.

that was if you didn't know her personally, of course. 

"here, first position, just like that!" the curious girl interacted with the kids outside a smaller studio, teaching them the various positions that at least a grade two or three class would use.

she picked up pointe work fast, obviously guided by the mentors at the school with nights of rehearsal and decision making whether she wanted to pursue this professionally.

"oh shush, you, you don't have to call me senpai, see you tomorrow (y/n)!"

ieiri bids you goodbye, no doubt to talk to the choreographers and director. gojo follow suit shortly after your exchange, not before taking your hand to plant a kiss on it.

you retract almost immediately after his lips descend on your skin, the area hot from the lighting, your sweat and your feelings.

nobara tsked, "what's his deal?" you let out a shaky sigh and shrug, hooking an arm around megumi's as you went around to mingle with the dancers.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

[nobara is typing...]

you're to shadow gojo-senpai and shoko-senpai?! no way???!?!1/!?!?

[itadori is typing...]

no way, that's so cool! 

what was he like? was he in the office that day?

[(y/n) is typing...]

yeah, he was. not gonna lie, a bit cocky... kinda overheard that partners throw themselves at him sometimes too, which makes it a bit troublesome, lol.

and yes, kugisaki i'll need to observe them starting tomorrow. i cant come for the company class :(

[megumi is typing...]

Then what about Shoko-senpai?

you shake your head even though no one could see you, the forgotten tv series playing in the background while you text your friends instead.

[(y/n) is typing...]

she's too good for him, i think. they're long time friends too, but i'm not sure if any feelings blossomed since then tho

[nobara is typing...]

you don't like him, do you? i know you dont like guys that are full of themselves, altho that man rlly is that attractive .......

[itadori is typing...]

LMAOO whos the smitten one now

nobara sends a vibe check sticker, the one with both hands outstretched with a threatening stare into the screen. 

[nobara is typing...]

i'll kill you tomorrow, yuji itadori.

[itadori is typing...]

you'd have to reach my height first, loser

[nobara is typing...]

you- UFGGHKHH

i'll kick your shins, thats what!!!!!! 

you roll your eyes as the two of them get into another friendly banter, leaving the group chat to blow up in messages as you switch off the neglected tv. 

there's a silence that feels almost too foreign, contrasting to the fact that you enjoyed silences daily. it felt criminal, almost, to be in such a quiet space with no one to fill in the gaps.

you look to your black and white poster for some clarity, the young boy standing at 16 with a softness in his eyes and a lengthened extension that conveyed his love of ballet to you.

you never knew who was the boy, getting a poster shoved into your hands in a hurry when you and your mom bought tickets to the local ballet competition. you never questioned the poster, nor had you caught the boy in the midst of his variation either, settling for a theory that his performance had already passed the day before.

"how do you think it's going to go down tomorrow?" you mumble to no one in particular, tossing and turning in your sheets that didn't quell your worries no matter how much you thrashed.

the dreamless slumber welcomes you into its arms almost immediately, although the morning after was the opposite.

"shit, shit, shit," was your mantra, jumping from place to place in your small apartment to get the things you needed for class. you manage to catch the bus in time, heading straight to the studio with no cup of tea in your hand as usual. 

"(y/n)!" nobara grins, seeing you stumble through the door just as everyone finishes their individual warmups. the instructor greets everyone, eager to get into the class as soon as possible.

the thought of the rehearsal shook you up more than you thought it would, leaving you to let out nervous breaths that got worse by the time that class ended. 

ieiri didn't miss the way you'd wipe your hands on your tights in worry, going over the steps more than you usually would. you had a killer memory, but it seemed that today that that ability had melted away at the sight of gojo.

"wish me luck, guys," you muttered, hurriedly packing up your things before heading off yourself. the trio only could give you a small smile, knowing you had wanted time to yourself to calm your nerves.

you had always done this for the many shows you starred in: the music and positions mimicking a recording. it was as clear as day when it replayed in your head, the different orchestral parts and the dynamic changes you apply to your steps to give the best performance, for performing your best was all that mattered. the trio understood instantly, always sending you off on your memory replay with an encouraging smile.

well, almost, for you didn't even know what the rehearsal entailed or what piece they would be dancing to.

"hi," your voice appeared meek in the big studio, the only three people there slowly getting warmed up to each other. your feet carried you into a curtsey.

"ah, mei mei-sensei! miss shoko and mr gojo," you acknowledged their presence, placing your things down right where you stood.

"let's begin then, shall we? for this is a gala event, the pas de deux couple will only be performing the entree and the adagio parts. there might be the possibility you two would have to rehearse your individual variations and the coda. still, the organisers haven't gotten back to us on the duration we'll be on stage for. with the switching in and out of the different repertoire, this year should align with don quixote. before we start, i wish that everyone is honest with each other; that way, we can learn from different views."

don quixote?! you hold in your excitement at the revelation, thinking back to the fiery portrayals of kitri and lively spanish music to pair with it. your excitement was on cloud nine while by fifteen minutes, your feet and body were seemingly screaming at you to take a break.

to say it was tiring was an understatement, at the very least. you were to only shadow ieiri's parts, and the absence of a male partner proved challenging when you were the first soloist mirroring a principal and her partner.

"(y/n) should try too, of course! come, come," mei mei beckons you over from where you went over the steps, fingers fidgeting with the waistband of the sheer skirt you'd just bought a few days ago.

"i trust that you are familiar with the wedding PDD, (y/n)?" mei mei asks.

you nod eagerly, not missing the way ieiri beams at your enthusiasm. 

"good. we'll just try this part on your own. remember to keep yourself lifted and trust your partner," mei mei eyes you while gojo was already getting comfortable with a hand on your back, "would you like to try it without the music first?"

you nod cautiously. you take note of the way it burns like fire, the contact of his skin on yours. oh god, you wished you had wiped the sweat from it, although the other didn't seem to mind it due to the many partners he's worked with before.

with a quick glance, you snuck a look at the tall dancer, never much prepared for the striking blue of his eyes. however, this time, the cheeky gojo appeared to be kept under wraps, bringing forth a more solemn and nervous exterior. he did seem different and quiet, even catching the attention of mei mei-sensei and ieiri herself. they opted not to say anything.

nevertheless, the two of you narrate the lifts and steps, mixing in the counts with the french vocabulary that stuck with you throughout the years. you were surprised at how much leeway gojo had provided you, allowing you to move freely while bringing you back effortlessly for the couple work.

a smile formed on your face at the flow of your steps as the music plays seamlessly in your mind with how much you've watched different renditions of the wedding pas de deux.

"with the music now, my dears."

ieiri shoots you a thumbs-up, noticeably more tired than you, as she massages the bottom of her feet with calculated force.

the piano starts as the pas de deux passes by smoothly with minimal mishaps, save for some off balances here and there. as always, your hand tingles when it comes in contact with the principal's, willing the quick heartbeats away by thinking of his cocky smirk the other day. with the easy beginning completed, the lifts were now appearing more often.

"hold your body up during the fish dive (y/n), hold your back and position!" gojo stumbles a bit at your mistake, but for the second time around, you manage to get it, coming up from the tricky step into a beautiful arabesque. 

a hasty nod, and you're off, pulling away from gojo a tad bit quicker than how you wanted to initiate it. he's taken by surprise at your change of personality, wondering where the flustered soloist had gone to previously. with the same corrections directed at you, mei mei gives you a "good job" before bringing ieiri back in.

"we'll cap you two's pas de deux at that point before the turns. ieiri, you ready to get back into it?" she hesitantly nods, albeit more relaxed than the earlier exchange.

the music starts again, and this time, you manage to gape at the couple's artistry, weaving over and under to fit the delicate notes of minkus' score. with the many turns and tour en l'airs, it now came to the difficult part of the pas de deux: where the woman will wind their hand around the man's single finger, engaging in two turns connected only by that single contact point.

they complete it easily, leaving ieiri to then balance en pointe with one leg suspended in the air. the two repeat it again with no problem, except for the fatigue seeping through their faces at a few moments in time.

as the music reaches its climax, so does the movements with increasing pirouettes and lifts. their chests heave with exhaustion, but their smiles showed that they were satisfied with the run.

it was hard to believe that gojo and ieiri only started to rehearsed this a few weeks ago, especially since these were leading roles with a reasonably complex pas de deux to pair with. nothing seemed to faze them as they received the feedback from mei mei, nor did they have trouble correcting the lift that had gone wrong earlier or the balance that ieiri fell out of.

so this was what it meant to be a principal.

"(y/n)! any feedback that you'd like to give to the two?"

"h..huh, me? i'm not sure if it'd be helpful to-"

"nonsense, hit us, (y/n). rehearsals are always a place for feedback," ieiri grins, taking your hand to bring you closer to the three of them.

"well, i think... i'll comment on the repeated melody where you'll go from the turns into the attitude balance is where it's a bit difficult. since gojo-senpai is tall, he might've put his hand a little too high. i mean, of course, lifting up is ideal, but ieiri-senpai might have some trouble balancing because of that."

they wordlessly try it out without the music, noting how gojo places his hand at a lower height for ieiri. it might've felt foreign, but it looked a tad bit better to you, with a better centre of gravity and stability. 

"yeah! like that!" a smile dons your face, "does it feel better, senpai?"

"tons," gojo simply states, almost too eagerly as blue eyes uncharacteristically boring into yours. opposed to the quick glances he always gave you along the corridor or within classes, this one was a strange, longing one. ieiri's voice snaps you out of the spell, almost not wanting to leave his stare.

"way better, thank you (y/n)," she pats your arm before turning to the sound of mei mei's voice.

"alright, beautiful legs and extensions, but we still have a lot to work on, as well as getting (y/n) accustomed to more pas de deux and principal work. would you like to stay on (y/n)?"

you admired your own determination, but sometimes it was better to take a break. having just attempted the coda, you could already feel blisters forming due to your prolonged use of pointe shoes. with a breath, you let gojo complete his pirouettes, restraining the sigh coming from your lips at the perfect revolutions and momentum he had going.

a little more, and you were close to catching a breath, finishing off a quadruple pirouette and tour en l'air with gojo's help. with a slight stumble, you let out a startled laugh before taking your last step with a knee to the floor. with palm outstretched, the piano does a trill before ending off on a chord.

out of the corner of your eye, you spot gojo smiling down at you, a beam that doesn't come often with how much confidence he carries around the company. 

ieiri applauds first, followed by mei mei's impressed smile.

"you execute your fouettes well, (y/n)," you bow your head in thanks, brought up unconsciously with gojo's hand as it stays linked in yours. 

"thank you, mei mei-sensei. i'm just glad to have tried it out; the don Q coda is one of my favourites," you gush, "the costumes, the music is just everything."

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"to dance with your partner is one thing, but the connection is another. translate the story of the elation of kitri - her father finally gives his blessing for their wedding, and she's excited to the moon. basilio is marrying the girl of his dreams. know what and who you're dancing for." mei mei speaks over the music easily, giving pointers they go over the steps like always.

"i know it's just an empty stage. there's no set, no scene to show the joy all around the cast, but you still are dancing as kitri and basilio," mei mei says after, "let's try again with (y/n)."

rehearsals carried on like this, day after day. some days longer than the other, and on others, you were paired with another first soloist. however, he wasn't tasked with shadowing the couple every day, so the pas de deux was left to you to master. 

as you wipe your sweat, ieiri waves her towel in front of you, "wanna have lunch with us?"

"i don't want to intrude-" 

"it's gojo's treat," ieiri whispers, "plus he doesn't treat people often."

"is he okay with me coming alo-" she pulls on you, leaving you no choice but to pack your things hurriedly.

"(y/n)'s coming, yea?" ieiri mumbles quickly, hooking her arm around yours in a hassle as you try to keep your things from falling out of your bag.

"i'd like that." gojo says to no one, finally catching up to you two after switching off the studio lights.

"whaaaat, you're leaving so fast?" you pout, eyeing ieiri's neat tray of finished food as gojo lets her pass through in the booth.

"i'm sorry you have to stay here with this dumbass (y/n), but i have a date with the orthopaedic today," ieiri groans.

"like an actual date?" gojo jokes.

"no," she rolls her eyes, "my muscles are acting up a little lately. plus, my arch hurts more often than it usually does. it's best to just check it out, i guess. but yeah, an actual date would be nice, too."

you shrug, "eh, hard to come by when you're a busy ballet dancer in a company. bye, senpai!" you and gojo wave to her as she leaves the diner, now coming to terms with the fact that you were alone with the charming dancer, as much as you hated to admit it.

with his perfect hair and long eyelashes and the enchanting smirk he always seems to wear. not to mention the sheer strength in his leaps in contrast to the delicate grip on your waist-

"thinking about me, love? of course you are."

"what? no!" you stiffen, the blush on your cheeks immediately giving away your thoughts.

"for the record, i've thought of you, too," gojo drops a bomb, leaning over the table to plant a gentle kiss upon your cheek before leaving the booth in a hurry. 

you were thankful that he was gone, at least and thankful for the empty diner, leaving you to melt in a puddle of confusion and warmth. 

just like the first rehearsal, your cheeks feel hot, as does your body. the place where his lips touched seemed to burn a hole through, your gaping mouth failing to close even after a minute of staring into nothing.

fishing out your phone was the first thing your mind sought out from the endless thoughts in your head.

nobara, nobara, nobara... gotta find her contact..!

[nobara is typing...]

he WHAT???!??@

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"ieiri-senpai, what's a pas de deux to you?" you mumble after rehearsals one day, picking at the tape stuck in between your toes.

"it would have to be what mei mei said, definitely. she still says the same exact thing till today: dance and connection are two different things. and it can't go to the point where two different stories are being told by the male and female dancer. you'll need to go into pas de deux work with a mindset that you come in a pair. every correction and every emotion needs to be felt by both parties for it to reach the audiences."  

"what about you?" the question catches you by surprise, resorting to humming as you think of the answer.

"it's something along the lines of your answer and mei mei-sensei's definition. you'd have to be on the same wavelength as your partner. every extension that appears or a gentle port de bras is meant to show the character's personality. you'd also have to think of the context of the ballet, i guess," you stop yourself, looking at gojo as he finishes a tour en l'air en passe. three revolutions and you realise that a. you're staring and b. you were talking way too much.

"sorry! i'm rambling again," you splutter, going back to your original task of taking out the tape from your toes.

ieiri giggles, "no, no! ramble all you want. i love listening to my juniors talk about how much they love ballet."

"sleeping beauty, just like the show a week ago, is set in the royal court, so it's hard to show aurora's personality. she's a little playful and young, although it's hard to slip that in when the wedding pas de deux for that is so grand. and then you'll compare it to the black swan in swan lake, where it's also in a royal court, but odile's the one deceiving siegfried, so there's an opportunity to include some side-eyeing in it. i personally love zenaida's version," you trailed off, "i mean, of course, there's also-"

"then what about odette?" gojo shouts across the studio, with his hands on his hips. the white of his hair matched the pureness of odette's tutu, something you always wished to wear and dance and master when you got accepted into six eyes theatre.

"don't mind him-"

your words take precedence without effort, "with the white swan, odette has to show the struggle of her spell with the frantic miming that she has to do. 'i'm the queen of the swans, rothbart the bastard turned me into a swan' and so on and so forth. because she's a swan, she has to imitate the gentle way that swans move, along with the technical challenges of the pas de deux. she's very soft and fragile, and the violin makes it all the better in showing the shyness and fear in odette."

two pairs of eyes stare at you curiously as the male's smirk leaves you to break into a nervous laugh as you fidget with your fingers. 

"sorry, i'm talking a lot. too much. do carry on with your jumps," a small apologetic smile appears on your face, failing to note gojo's hesitation to move from his spot and his interest in the way you can talk endlessly about the art.

gojo's smirk merges into a smile even when he accomplishes the many pirouettes demanded of him. he'd want to hear it from your lips next time when you're wrapped up in each other.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"don't you think he's a little bit too confident for his own good?" nobara whispers to you. with rehearsals off for a few days, you were able to see your best friends again, munching up the calories lost from the afternoon class. 

"yeah... for all we know, he might be stumbling around in rehearsals and picking up girls," megumi muttered.

you rolled your eyes, "he's... not like that, guys. he is confident in class and seems a bit cocky, but that's because he really does live up to his name."

"we might not know much, either. (y/n) has been in rehearsals with the guy. he's probably more focused when there are lesser people in the room," yuji chats through his food, gaining disgusted looks from the three of you when lettuce and chicken litter the table.

"well... don't go falling for the guy, yeah? i've beaten up too many exes in the past," megumi tsked, devouring the salad bowl in front of him.

"yeah, but i didn't ask you to, plus you'd do it anyway. didn't even have to ask," you grin, leaning back in your chair triumphantly.

"if i beat up gojo-senpai, i'll probably get jailed."

you and yuji stifle a laugh at his comment, but nobara doesn't seem impressed with the joke, instead focused more on you and your reactions. 

you weren't actually developing feelings... right?

the memory and kiss linger in your mind like a stubborn stain, not forgetting the intense stare nobara had given you before you said goodbye to the three. a vibration from your phone snaps you out of the daze, opening your chat group to answer your friends. 

[nobara is typing...]

how was rehearsal today?!???! we jsut finished class

also it's been so long since we saw u :(

[(y/n) is typing...]

so good as always is that even a question luv xx

theyre both so talented as individuals as they r in a pdd... it was rlly insightful too!

gojo-senpai kept staring at me today for some reason tho. he felt different today, a little more reserved and whatnot

[megumi is typing...]

Maybe he felt intimidated by your skill lol

"i'll take my leave first, (y/n)! i've got an errand to run. mei mei's accompanying me," ieiri grins, bringing you into a sweat-filled hug. she's used to soaked leotards, even if the grimace on your end doesn't go unnoticed by the principal.

she lets out a chuckle, "you'll get used to mixed sweat and whatnot, (y/n). see ya!"

curtseying comes easy, bidding goodbye to the principal and the ballet mistress.

you were ready to go back to the conversation on your phone, although a call of your name distracted you from the conversation.

"yes...? gojo?" you mumbled, the last name feeling foreign on your lips without the honorific at the back. you put your phone away as the studio immediately diminishes in size, seemingly putting the two of you in a tight space with nowhere to go. it certainly felt like it, with the wordless prompt of his hand.

"try the pas de deux with me," gojo proposes, pulling up a piano rendition of the score on spotify. it wasn't hard to spot the mischievous sparkle in his eye, along with the attractive grin plastered on his face.

the studio appeared calmer now that ieiri and mei mei had left, yet the conflict in your mind was loud and unwelcomed. it felt like a battle between the angel and the devil, and you were sure the devil was nobara herself, screeching at you to remind you of the shit-ton amount of conceitedness he had.

"are we allowed to? don't other people need to use the studio?" you mumble, standing up with the help of gojo nevertheless.

you're playing right into his hand, yet you took it anyway.

he waves a hand, "it's fine; you do know the pas de deux, don't you? we didn't go over it together much, but i'm sure the past rehearsals served you well."

the beginning was refined, having done it earlier with mei mei's help. it was mostly the only thing the two of you went over when mei mei was around, leaving the more complicated parts to ieiri. the fish dive comes naturally this time, imagining the glowing lights and the striking wedding tutu that kitri sports in the third act. 

there are howls of laughter at the many mishaps after that. knowing you hadn't rehearsed any of it with your partner, nor with the music before, it was only fair that accidents were to happen.

"no, no, if you let me go, i will kill you- ah! gojo!" you threaten, but it's lost in your mouth as he spins you way too many times, letting a loud shriek escape your mouth.

from a failed pirouette to a fish dive where he almost dropped you (he didn't), the laughter spilling from yours and his lips weren't common in a company class with everyone trying to dance their best.

"hey, hey, lay off the hair!" gojo quips, catching your off-balanced pirouette with a secure hand on the waist. you went along with the music, anyway, giving your exaggerated interpretation of kitri just as the music builds up. that earns a laugh from him, skillfully guiding you through even with the light banter in the room

"here it comes," he mutters to you, feeling the support of gojo's hands on yours as he pushes you off the complete the double attitude turn before hearing a loud ‘thwap!’.

"fuck, sorry! oh my god," you apologise, retracting your leg almost immediately after the collision.

"ah, shit," gojo exclaims, rubbing the side of his thigh as he brings you down gently. there's a frown on his face as you take a peek at the place you hit, the only thoughts running through your head being the articles or scandals you might be caught in.

(y/n) attempting to harm six eyes theatre's golden principal dancer? (y/n)'s downfall full of jealousy? (y/n) and the infamous gojo caught in a fight?

a giggle gets you out of the trenches, hands revealed like a finished magician's act. 

"i was kidding; that didn't hurt one bit," gojo jokes, hands naturally reaching forward to place them on your hips, "loosen up a bit, (y/n)."

"i am loose!" your mouth falls into a straight line, "shit that sounded bad, didn't it?" bursting into laughter, your head falls onto his shoulder as your hand reaches up to grasp at his forearm before recovering from the unexpected joke.

as the pas de deux fades off into nothing, only your breaths could be heard in the large studio, blending with the cold air of the air-conditioning and the hot breaths coming from your mouths. strings play softly from the phone, but all you can hear is the echo of the familiar melody as if it was being played in an auditorium. 

gojo gives you a gentle smile that you reciprocate, stuck in that annoying hypnotisation of his blue eyes and the same soft look he gives you whenever you aren't looking. 

you were looking now, though, and you'd like it even better if time stood still for you to savour this moment.

"would you like to go on a date with me (y/n)?"

there it was, the million-dollar question. it wasn't like you imagined this every night before you slept or whether he'd perform a flashy proposal to ask you out.

but even then, you thought back to the smirks he directed at every other dancer, you thought back to the conversation in masamichi's office, you thought back to nobara's advice.

"surely you're not thinking of getting wooed by gojo satoru, are you? it's dangerous, (y/n), i'm sure you know that."

"fuck, i know! but then he kisses my cheek that one time and everything feels right again. he jokes with me in rehearsals and nudges me when mei mei-sensei compliments me. he treats me to lunch and looks at me with so much passion i almost want to believe it. these past weeks of rehearsals have taught me well in dance, but i'm sure it's making my love life miserable with how much he looks at me and then goes back to flirting with the other dancers."

"i'm sorry, i can't, gojo."

you make haste with the way you're scurrying out of the studio, breaking into a jog to make sure he doesn't catch after you.

you should've said yes, right? with how much he's been building up the courage these past few weeks, careful not to let ieiri spot his sneaky glances. even the kiss on your cheek left his heart pumping long after he's left the diner. 

all that to leave him in the dust.

gojo lays in bed that day, eyes fully open as he struggles to get some rest, unaware of the similar turmoil you were going through. the dancer managed to sleep after innumerable amounts of overthinking, departing from consciousness with thoughts of you, just like he always has.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

there weren't any tears involved on your end, save for some of the glossy looks you've given your black and white poster as you played with your pillowcase in anxiety. 

you dreaded the next rehearsal, knowing you had to face gojo sooner or later, especially with how you reacted to his question.

"mei mei-sensei, gojo," his name was muttered instead, embarrassed with the way you rushed out of the studio the previous day. mei mei looks between the two of you, clapping her hands together to get your attention.

"ieiri pulled a nerve around her arch, which was why we've been going to the orthopaedic more often. it's a minor injury, and she's resting right now, so we'll have to work with the two of you first. we'll stop at where we always do but feel free to continue if you feel comfortable."

great. it had to be on a day where i couldn't possibly face gojo.

he says nothing at that, both you and the pianist unsure of whether you were to continue.

gojo was still in his a game, hitting every leap and lifting you without much struggle. you, not so much, as the words you said to him replayed in your head like a broken record.

you fell off your balances, you couldn't portray kitri well, you felt the weight of your body get heavier with each repeated thought of the day before. hell, even your practice tutu felt heavy. 

he sighs again for the umpteenth time as the music stops, the two of you receiving the same criticism from the previous run. mei mei tries her best to be polite, although you can tell she's losing her patience as well.

"(y/n)? what's gotten into you? i understand every dancer has their bad days, but today appears terrible with the silent treatment you two are giving each other."

you swallow at the question, taking a shaky breath before opening your mouth. you look to gojo for help, but his eyes evade yours by looking at the floor with arms crossed. his head whips toward you with your following words.

"he asked me... on a date. i rejected him, rushed out the studio," you mutter, tracing the fabric of the tutu hanging on your hips.

"you asked her out on a date?" mei mei states in disbelief, looking at the ballerino with a face full of perplexity. 

"yeah, i did, and i would do it again," the last whisper is lost to you, unable to hear because of the distance between you and him.

"wh- why? what's wrong with that?" you ask mei mei-sensei, yet again being pulled in by the sky blue of his eyes before looking to the ballet mistress.

"mei mei-"

"gojo never asks anyone out. ever. i'm sure you're the first one."

you can see gojo deflate at that at the corner of your eye, shoulders sagging forward in defeat while mei mei takes the chance to leave for you to sort things out. 

"what...?" was the only thing you could muster, eyes following your instructor as she exits the space.

"you two are dismissed for now. talk to him about it and resolve your problem," she waves a hand at you, the tension growing by the second as she's entirely out of the studio.

"gojo?" you ask cautiously, stepping up to him to pull him from the position he was in.

"you believe the rumours, the articles, don't you?" he says, completely unrelated to the situation at hand. the look he gives you was something you couldn't figure out, snatching his arm out of your grip as he puts some distance between the two of you. 

"you think i'm some cocky bitch who's just strutting around the company, free to do my own thing?" the other says it in a quiet tone, but it didn't make it less menacing than if he were to shout it. 

"do you think i enjoy the way the female dancers throw themselves at me when i'm trying to focus on my mistakes and corrections? you think i enjoy the annoying ass articles written about me?"

with each question, gojo doesn't fail to intimidate you, taking a step each time until you're cornered against the barre. those questions are left unanswered as gojo's eyes bore into yours, losing its usual spark when he glances at you during the pas de deux or when he's laughing at a joke you made over lunch.

"do you think i enjoy being talked about every. single. time?! when i'm passing in the corridors, in masamichi's office, in the company classes, among the little trio you have going on. when i asked you out, it was because i genuinely felt that i could connect to you: with no wrong assumptions or bad impressions," gojo runs a hand through his sweaty hair, the frustrated emotions he felt seeping through into his speech.

"...everything felt so fake to me while getting to know you were the only real thing i could cherish when i get to hold you during the pas de deux, or when my lips landed on your cheek. it was the only real thing that brought on your blush that i imagine your lips on mine way too much."

you chose to ignore the way your heart flutters at the confession, staring up at him with apparent conflict on your face.

"then why can't you just ignore them? i'd expect someone like you to not give a shit about what people think," you whisper.

"you got to know the wrong gojo, then. just like right now, i can't face what others have to murmur around about me."

"right now...?" you caught onto his words fast, your eyes immediately spotting the curious faces of both your friends and a few other dancers fighting for a spot to watch you two through the studio door's glass.

"c'mon, pack up, let's not talk here," gojo states. within seconds, the two of you were out the door with your hand clasped in his. you were quick on your feet to leave the premises, naturally following gojo's lead to an unknown building. 

letting go of his hand, you explore the space, taking note of every tiny little thing that made the apartment his own.

"sorry for the mess. i live alone and hardly clean the apartment." the nervousness from the studio stayed, the other opting to remain at the doorway in worry. the silence in the apartment grows, your eyes now trained to the floor as gojo suddenly speaks up.

"i couldn't ignore them, (y/n). their expectations disguised as gossip and rumours allowed me to perform properly. i was afraid of disappointment, of getting ridiculed if i were to make mistakes on stage. any slip-up was seen by the company's sponsors, critics, everyone. their eyes were always on me, and i could never let myself get eaten up by the articles." 

"the industry is filled with competition and talent. anyone can replace anyone at any given time; you'd have to have a mind of steel to not get affected by every little thing!"

his eyes meet the back of your head, the fatigue leaking through the lines of his eyes and face. as you turn around, you meet his exhausted ones, and, step by step, you approach the man.

"i can't say i have that mind of steel that i mentioned. i hardly come close to it, (y/n). i'm happy with the company, i'm content with my place, and i'm terribly in love with ballet, but... i'm so tired, really."

your expression of unsaid pity was all you could offer, bringing gojo into a hug as he wrapped his arms around you. the way he relaxed told you of the safe space you provided, while his tight, squeezing arms showed he hasn't embraced in a long time.

a minute or two passes, relishing in the now comfortable silence as the other collects himself. 

"i'm laying everything on you, fuck, i'm sorry."

you shake your head into his chest, "don't apologise, you idiot. i should be the one saying sorry for rushing off like that," pulling away, you were heartbroken to see the shine of his tears waiting to cascade down his cheeks.

"i'm sorry i ran off. i was afraid, for a different reason. my rational side always protects my heart, knowing i've had bad experiences with friends and connections. if i couldn't sustain a friendship, who was i to jump into a relationship?" you hand trails to his nape to mindlessly play with the hair there as a form of habit with your own hair.

"it was brave of you, putting yourself out so vulnerably when i only looked at the surface of what you were. i'm sure it felt like those weeks of getting to know each other meant something to you, and i threw it away in fear that you'd leave me after a few months."

"so please don't apologise, i'm sorry i ever made you feel like shit because i didn't know about the weight on your shoulders."

a smile graces your face, the hand on his nape going back to his cheek.

"and stop crying; it doesn't make your eyes look good," you whisper, wiping the tears before they fall as gojo lets out a chuckle.

"you think my eyes look good?" 

you roll your eyes, "god, who wouldn't? it's like looking at the sky and the ocean all at the same time. and when you stare at me? i always have trouble looking away from you because of how striking they are."

"are they now?" distracted from the emotional vomit earlier, he grins at your description of him. you're lucky to have your hands on his cheeks just so you can feel the effect you have on him every time you offer a compliment.

"are you done complimenting me?"

"i've only commented on your eyes, though. would you like me to continue?"

"i think you should kiss me first."

you're taken aback by gojo's boldness, a surprised expression appearing at the question. the way he looks at you beats the gazes through the mirror as he warms up and the look of interest over his bowl of miso soup. it beats the glances at you during the company classes and the short, fleeting glimpses as you move together during the pas de deux. it beats every single one that your head descends back into his chest, shy at the look of adoration he was giving you.

"can i really?" you whisper in his shirt, refusing to look up even when he pulls away from your embarrassment.

as his arms unwind themselves from your middle, he crouches down to reach your eye and bring you back from a world of uneasy firsts.

"is it your first?"

this was when gojo satoru was at his rawest, with his hands cupped around your cheeks in the slowly darkening apartment as he prepares himself to kiss you.

"it is."

gojo says nothing after that, the moment of silence feeling like forever before his lips meet yours. the sunset coming in from his windows hits at the right time, because then you'd be able to point at it and describe the colours you feel when his mouth moves against yours. you'd be able to sense your heart pumping and blood flowing more clearly than when you've just finished a demanding combination of steps when he encircles his arms around you to bring you closer.

without choreographed steps, nothing feels more fitting than a kiss full of passion that isn't in a pas de deux. ironically, it was the ones you enjoyed more, more than the kisses in romeo & juliet or in manon.

oxygen becomes scarce, then, prompting you to break away from gojo just as your heart fills up with joy, way more than you can fathom.

you crash your lips into his again, now catching him off-guard. he melts into it with no problem, a laugh spilling from his lips at your eagerness.

"i like you a lot, tons, (y/n). i don't say this often, but i like you."

"it's too early to say it's love, right? because i think i like you too, a lot, tons."

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

you agreed to keep it under wraps for now, with you planning to leave half n' hour later to avoid suspicion. the dancer sacrificed his Z's so you could catch them instead, although you continued to lay awake in his bed watching the white-haired man get ready. 

"are you sure the floor wasn't uncomfortable? you could've just used your own bed, y'know."

he only shakes his head, "'s okay. my back was acting up, anyway. it was basically free therapy."

you laugh at that, now sitting up fully to admire gojo's physique. with how affectionate and sweet he is behind closed doors, you swore that he was a different man. he shoots you a finger gun and a wink, knowing the way he's got you wrapped around his finger.

"see you later," gojo whispers, landing a peck on you before taking off on his own. it wasn't long before you had to get up, taking in the room and its decorative spaces. he has ballet posters and photos of his friends; he even had a diffuser.

a yawn takes over you as your hands land on the shirt on you.

fuck, you didn't have anything clean to wear. gojo had provided you with a shirt and pants from his wardrobe yesterday, rejecting his briefs with a laugh. with no bra, you decided to just use a spare leotard you keep in your bag, settling for the clothes gojo had lent you the day before.

the theatre felt different when you entered, heading straight for the studio to avoid any more prying eyes from the younger dancers. 

"hey," you say, rubbing at your eyes to the trio warming up their feet.

nobara gasps, grasping at your hand immediately to pull you down onto the floor.

"are you good?" she mumbles, staring at your face for any signs of hurt or crying.

"do i need to beat him up?" megumi challenges, flexing his bicep as a joke, "i've been working out more."

"i'll go tell him off for you, (y/n)!" yuji grins, preparing to quite literally stand up to head over to the other corner of the room.

"no! i mean, yes, i'm good. please don't beat him up, and... sit down, yuji." you sigh. 

"nothing... happened, guys. i know what it looked like in the studio yesterday but there wasn't any catfights or physical fights," you pause, looking at megumi, your hands instinctively going to the pouch where you kept your shoes, "we figured out our problem and solved it, that's all."

"so why are you wearing his shirt, then?" nobara shoots without hesitation, causing you to halt your movements for a bit. beside you, you can hear yuji choking on his water. 

"i... we.. uhm," you trail off, trying to find the right words to fill in the gaps of your explanation. your eyes flit around the room before landing on gojo's, finding that his were already fixed on you.

"uh... yeah... we cleared up our differences and talked a bit," you mutter, lips breaking into a smile before you break eye contact with him. the trio stay dumbfounded at your word vomit, witnessing the exchange with the principal dancer with puzzlement. 

"oh my god, did you guys fuck?" nobara whispers.

"what? no!" you laugh, whacking her shoulder as you stood up to loosen up your feet, preparing for the class conducted by masamichi himself today.

"i'll explain everything when i get back home, okay?" you say to the three of them, stuck in a side hug with nobara as her arm stay loosely wrapped around your waist.

they can only offer you their  nods, bidding you goodbye with a slight wave.

as you enter the same rehearsal studio, there's only a single lone dancer in it, stretching over in a middle split as he scrolls on his phone mindlessly.

"hey," you call out to gojo, setting your bag of things down while you run up to him. he stands up instantly, pulling you into an embrace that shocks you with the sheer force of it.

"did you already miss me? that's fast."

he mumbles into your hair, "mhmm... shut up, please."

you laugh at that, recovering from the hug despite the other's protests.

"c'mon, i need to warm up, plus we're supposed to keep this a secret, right?"

gojo whines but lets you go anyway, but not before he plants a kiss on your hand as he lets you do your own thing. the next set of footsteps catch you in surprise, eyes widening at her presence when you run up to her in excitement.

"ieiri-senpai! are you feeling better?" you ask, peeking around at her feet, where she limped on earlier.

"yes, i am, (y/n)," she pats your head and realises your choice of clothing. you noticed her smirk, but before you could counter her question, she beats you to it, "and... i've seen that the dumbass finally made a move."

there's no denying the blush that makes its way onto your cheeks, seemingly oblivious to the stares from everyone when in reality, they were curious to know of what happened the day before.

"yeah, i guess he did," you sigh dreamily, giving off your feelings as ieiri could only smile at your situation.

mei mei enters the room with authority, making you perk up at her words as she walks to the centre of the barre with purpose.

"i trust that you've solved everything, yes? because you two have been quite the talk around the studio," mei mei states, braiding her hair into a side braid as ieiri takes a seat.

"i took her hand to get away from the crowd, sensei. if anything, i should be blamed for engaging in contact that might've given off the assumption that we were dating," gojo steps up.

"but you are dating, aren't you?" mei mei grins, putting on her shoes.

"i..." you tried to speak, but gojo interrupts you before then.

"only if she'll have me, then yes, we are."

you fight back a smile, stepping forward to catch his hand in yours. he's shaking, not at all the confident gojo satoru that you've become so accustomed to.

"yes," your single affirmation holds so much weight, looking up at him with as much joy as he did with you in the morning.

"okay, good! i've gone through enough of gojo staring at you from across the room. let's continue," mei mei casually says, "i'm sure (y/n) has heard the news, yes?"

she's quick to pull you out of your thoughts of gojo looking at you during rehearsals with the question of the news that left you texting the trio at 1am.

[nitta-sensei is typing...]

(y/n)? do you have a minute to spare?

[(y/n) is typing...]

yes sensei?

what seems to be the...

you're cut off by the abrupt phone call as gojo brushes his teeth, speaking to you, though incoherently, through the foam and lather in his mouth.

"yes, nitta-sensei? what is it?"

"i'm sorry for conveying this news over the phone, and i was too excited to wait until the next day. you might or might not like it, but... you're to replace ieiri in the gala event for now." by now, gojo had stopped brushing due to your lack in reply.

he peeks his head out of the bathroom as nitta continues, "she has to heed her orthopaedic's advice and take a break for now, but since you've been shadowing the two for a good amount of time, masamichi thinks its best you take up the role of the female part."

your jaw stays dropped even after nitta says her goodbyes, the phone lit up due to your shock. 

"(y/n)? what happened?"

"i'm going to be dancing with you, gojo," you say quietly, "i'm dancing the pas de deux with you!" 

you bow your head in acknowledgement, "yes, i have." 

ieiri sees the hesitation since now the original dancer was seated in front of you. she shoots you a double thumbs-up as motivation while mei mei briefs you on the gala like she did with the couple at the start.

it's short, and within the next moment, you're already flying through the sky with gojo's help. the steps start to become more apparent and distinct to you, letting the pianist lead the way as the lifts and pair work merge together like a seamless thread.

mei mei is firm in her teaching, knowing your weaknesses and strengths by heart with the past rehearsals that she's done. stopping the two of you before letting ieiri take over was routine, but for now, ieiri contributes with her wisdom from the chair instead. 

the rehearsal progresses slowly, opting instead to complete it bit by bit as the weeks turn into days and the days turn into hours. you had to take extra care of your feet, icing them and making sure your blisters don't distract you as rehearsals extend longer to ensure your best performance.

when you had your own commitments, your best friends had theirs, fulfilling principal or first soloist roles just for the gala. there was hardly any time for you to see the trio, but you made up with late facetime calls and online dinners with them.

even with the distance in the company class, gojo never fails to make it up to you with kisses under the moonlight as you watch video after video on don quixote, although taking a specific liking to the pairing of nuñez and muntagirov. 

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"you ready?" gojo lets out a nervous breath, already hearing the chatter of the gala attendees behind the curtains. beside you, other dancers are warming up for their own parts. some were doing a solo while others were doing a pas de deux like you were, but nonetheless, everyone gathered here was to share the love for ballet.

"hell no, i'm shaking," you laugh, playing with the elastic that was to go over your middle finger. a beautiful, white tutu was tailored just for you with minor tweaks from ieiri's tutu while they were in the midst of completing it. to honour and perform the role of kitri gave you immense joy and excitement, even though you were jittery at the responsibility passed on to you.

"how are you doing?" nobara asks, making you jump at the sudden voice. she lets out a giggle, "sorry."

 "i'm... very nervous. is that even a question?" you ask her, holding onto her exposed shoulder a little too tightly. she dons a breathtaking, flowy costume with puffy sleeves and intricate detail. at the same time, yuji was suited up as nobara's partner in a pair of yellow tights, completing the couple look in the comedy-filled la fille mal gardée.

"oi, hot pants, come here! my partner's here finally after taming his hair," nobara jokes, pulling yuji over. they lean into each other's sides naturally, posing with peace signs and big smiles that they were asked to convey to the audience.

"good luck out there," megumi catches your attention, awkward as can be, as he pulls you in for a hug. his pas de deux partner is smiling at you beside him, taking your hand in hers.

"your rehearsals with gojo-senpai are incredible, (y/n)-senpai! all the best for your performance later," she bows, clearly relieved at saying the things she wanted to say.

"all the best for your le corsaire, too," you grin, waving them off excitedly before joining your basilio at the hip.

"you'll do great out there, trust me," gojo places a peck on your temple, holding you close by the waist as you warm up together. there's shared laughter between the two of you, exchanging jokes to calm your nerves and keep your mind moving. with the rush hour backstage, it was imminent that the show was starting soon, the many dancers continuing their warmup without trouble.

only you seemed to be on edge, performing as the first couple of the night for a role you've always loved and adored while watching from the balcony of auditoriums.

"i will. we will." you nod, hands twined with the other's as the curtains make their way up.

"breathe. we'll nail this like we always do," gojo kisses your linked hands, staring down at you with those same eyes you fell in love with. a smile replaced what you couldn't say out loud, bumping your head into his chest as an affectionate gesture, "let's go."

among the cheers and blinding lights, you could only focus on gojo's hand on the small of your back as he led you out. with practised steps, nothing could faze you except, maybe, his dazzling smile and the gentle eyes he has on you for the whole pas de deux.

living the life of an innkeeper's daughter was what you had to portray. while your 'father' was hesitant at first, he's finally given you the blessing to marry your lover, basilio. the glimmering tutu and effortless partnership was only half the job done, and for the radiant smile you had on at the moment, you hoped at least ieiri and mei mei would be proud of the story you were telling together with gojo.

the feeling from rehearsals is amplified on stage, with the orchestra's power and the costumes, providing you with a feeling like no other. and as gojo approaches with a flawless tour en l'air, you realise that with how much work you put in behind the scenes, the result always pays off. 

as gojo has his hands on your waist, twirling you around like nothing in a quadruple pirouette, you realise that every step was made possible with the help of ieiri and mei mei and your best friends and lastly, gojo satoru.

the golden, treasured prodigy which you somehow managed to develop feelings for. the talented principal who whines when you won't refuse to give him affection and the once-cocky individual who softens just at the sight of you.

and as the music reaches the end, you want nothing more than to stay in this pas de deux with gojo satoru, in a dance of two.

you end off on an incredible note, chest heaving from the demanding technicalities of the pas de deux. nevertheless, your brain shuts out the thunderous applause, with some imparting you with their standing ovations and others who decided to scream 'bravo!' at the stage.

gojo offers a grin, bringing you close with a hand as you thank the audience with endless curtseys. bowing to your partner was next, thanking him for the interminable rehearsals and that hectic day of emotion from the studio right up to his home.

you almost practically run backstage with the adrenaline flowing through your body, the next act already on stage for the gala. 

"oh my god, oh my god!" you whisper-shout in pure glee, hugging gojo close the moment you were out of view of the audience.

"you did it."

"we did it," you reassure, pulling from the embrace to smile up at him. you could feel the dancers' eyes around you, not knowing whether they should look to you or to look away.

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, "'s okay, let them look. i don't mind it when i'm with you."

"just to confirm, we... shouldn't kiss, right?" you mumble, but you inch closer to his lips anyway.

"no... i don't think we should," gojo grins, indulging you in the very kiss you've waited for, knowing that right now, it wasn't the stage lights, nor was it the general heat after completing a difficult pas de deux.

it's as if the world gave you rose-tinted glasses, because that was all you could recognise now as gojo pulls you from backstage with your hand tightly locked onto his. he wasn't the six eyes theatre's prized principal, he was just gojo as you run past the many costumes being hung with the click-clacking of your pointe shoes.

you could compare it, almost, to running across a field with a billowing dress behind you, but alas, you were satisfied with being his kitri. for when she and basilio have a life of marriage ahead of them, you and gojo satoru have nothing but longing glances and shared laughter over your stumbling slip-ups in the studio as you tackle one act after the next.

the pas de deux was a connection and a story, and the both of you were just starting out yours. 

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 10): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: this is it. this is what the end looks like. 

wc: 1.5k

tw: none

a/n: WOW. This is the end. We’ve come a long way in... ten days! IT REALLY FEELS LIKE IT’S BEEN WEEKS. This is the end of Lady y/n’s and Geto’s journey... It has been SUCH a pleasure writing for you all. 

masterlist

Three children come tumbling out of the carriage, tripping over themselves to be the first to dart past your mother and father to hug you. You look upon the faces of Nobara, Junpei, and Yuji with astonishment; the tears leaking from your eyes are not ones of sadness any longer. Giggles and kisses and hugs are exchanged between you all as you stoop down to greet the overexcited bundles of joy. 

You look up just as Gojo and Nanami are exiting the carriage, eyes on the children with gentle smiles. Your father instantly recognizes Gojo, and holds his hands up in celebration. 

“Welcome back, Gojo-kun!” Gojo begins to chatter with your father and the three children descend on Megumi, who looks helpless as they ask him too many questions to keep up with. Haibara appears seconds later, flanked by Yuta, and they greet you and Kaori with a fondness you relax into, their faces blending back into the bright paintings of your memory. It was all beautiful - Nanami, Haibara, Yu, Yuta, the children… but everyone knows that one person is missing from the environment. 

“Gojo, whe--” Just as you turn to Gojo to interrogate him about Geto’s whereabouts, a large shadow passes over the sun, blocking your eyesight for a moment. When your vision returns, you watch an enormous golden dragon descend from the sky. It’s scales shimmer in the sunlight and toss reflections of rainbows around, almost blinding you to the man sliding off of it’s back.

When you see the General, it’s as if there had been a dam in your heart. The flood of emotions overwhelms your body, and you can only stand among your family and friends in shock as he approaches you, dressed in illustrious fabrics and smiling like the world was his. 

“Y/n,” he whispers as everyone watches your reunion. The entire thing was too beautiful - too sweet. When he envelops you in a deep hug, you feel the weight of the world transfer over to his shoulders and ease your burden. You were no longer alone. The tears you shed fade into the silk of his purple haori, and you’re enveloped by the sweet words and tender forehead kisses of your lover. 

“I thought you were dead…” you murmur into his chest, and Geto shakes his head, his hair tickling your face. You look into his onyx eyes and ask the obvious question without speaking, and his hand comes up to cup your chin.

“Let me tell you the tale over dinner, my love. It is a story that requires some nourishment.” 

“Yeah, because I’m starving!” Gojo announces behind you, much to the chagrin of Kaori, who rolls her eyes at the outburst, despite there being a small smile painted onto her face.

_______________________________________________________________________

“It wasn’t an easy battle,” Gojo begins, shoving a piece of sushi into his mouth. “First of all, we were outmanned four to one. Then, when we were pushed back to the base of the mountain,” he continues, mouth full of food. “It’s like we don’t have anywhere to go but up. And that meant a slow, freezing death for a lot of soldiers.” 

“They took their charge seriously,” Haibara interrupts, attempting to preserve their honor. “Their sacrifices weren’t in vain.” Yuta nods, hanging his head a little as he consumes the bowl of soup silently. 

“But Prince Geto here tried one last trick that very nearly got him killed,” Gojo growls, pointing his chopsticks at Geto, who is watching his friends animate the tale of their escape and not saying a word. “Releasing all of those curses at once,” the white haired man mutters, stabbing a fish eye with determination. “That almost cost us our General.” 

“You what…?” you look over at Geto, who is chickling softly. 

“I released quite a few of my curses to attempt to overwhelm my younger brother, Naoya. He did quite well fending them off, but by the time he was finished, Gojo and Haibara had escaped with a little under half of our forces. I lost my way up the mountain and was sustaining a pretty large gash from the fight… but that’s when Mei Mei and Utahime found me.”

“Mei Mei? Utahime?” Kaori questions, but Gojo pats her hand, trying his best to soothe her. 

“Listen, they were mountain women. Healers, really.”

“In any case, they healed me, but it took about a month before I could recover from my wounds. By that time, the Court had already pronounced me dead. However, Gojo and Haibara weren’t too far from the Imperial Palace, intent on cutting down my younger brothers and my father.” 

“Your father did put up a nice, long fight,” Yuta murmurs, still not making eye contact with anyone at the table. “But it’s never enough, is it?” 

A tiny hand sneaks it’s way from the bottom of the table, patting around the wood for something beside your mother’s elbow. It seems that only you notice it, but your mother looks over and notices the hand, takes a piece of fish from the spread, and hands it to the gremlin beneath the table. The hand slinks back to where it came from, disappearing beneath the wood as Gojo rambles about his trek up the stairs to the Palace doors, and how Yuta had already wounded the Emperor by the time they arrived. 

“I just think it’s interesting how…” That meant Gojo did not find anything about that interaction interesting. 

You look over to Suguru and place your hand on his underneath the table. He looks back at you and grins widely, gripping your fingers tightly as he leans over to whisper in your ear. 

“I told you I’d come back for you. All you needed to do was wait.” 

“But how did you make it back to Palace, Geto?” your father asks, frowning. Geto’s eyes look up at the group’s collective gaze. 

“I made it down the mountain with ease, and rode my rainbow dragon curse all the way there.” 

“How long did that take?” Toji wonders, and your mother is holding her hand over mouth, obviously trying not to laugh as another small hand appears next to Toji’s elbow.

“A day.” Toji hands the little fingers a rice ball from his plate without bothering to look, and it disappears just as quickly as it appeared beneath the table. “It was the longest day of my life.” 

“And you made it back just in time to save me from a pretty nasty fate,” Yuta laughs. 

“Basically, Geto promised to not wipe the whole Imperial Court out if his father would reinstate him as the eldest son, give him his birthright, and…” Gojo thinks, tilting his head back to find the final piece of the puzzle.

“And give him control over the villages he had acquired.” Nanami finishes for him, surreptitiously sliding a piece of tonkatsu underneath the table, and Gojo snaps his fingers in response to the addition.

“Right, that. So, the Emperor said ‘yes’ because it was either that or die, and then we had the camp join us in the compounds surrounding the Imperial Palace. Geto was crowned Prince pretty quickly after that, and then presented to all of the villages one by one as the next in line for the throne. And here we are,” Gojo pauses, frowning suddenly. “Can someone tell me why I feel little fingers on my legs?” 

Children snickering echoes from underneath the table, and you try to hold in a laugh, pressing your lips together tightly and feeling little fingers pat your feet, then slide up to pat the table beside you in search of another morsel of food.

_______________________________________________________________________

The night comes quicker than you expected, and you find yourself standing in front of the moonlit window, held from behind by Suguru. He’s littering kisses down your neck and you’re relishing in his touch, your skin feeling like it hadn’t been caressed in ages. 

“You’re even more beautiful than I dreamed you would be,” he breathes into your ear, and you shudder, leaning back into him even more. “I spent so long thinking about your face...” He presses a kiss to your cheek. “... your soft body...” His hands drift over your hips. “...the way you feel pressed against me like this.” You smile at his words, and he turns your face to him, blinking slowly. “I fought heaven and hell to come back to you.” 

“I’m glad you did,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his, feeling your mouth part almost instantly. Suguru grips your hips and turns you to face him, pulling you closer than you thought possible. You slowly follow him to the bed, still connected by the lips, and when he sits back on it you follow, straddling his half-clothed figure in the moonlight. 

“I’ll have to make up for the time we lost,” he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip tenderly. 

“That’s three long months, my Gen- I mean, my Prince.” Suguru laughs at his new title, mouth latching onto yours again as he unties the fabric at your waist and pulls the shoulders of your kimono aside. 

“I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life,” he speaks against your neck, sucking hard at the skin there. “That is... if you’ll let me, Lady y/n.” 

“It’s actually Princess y/n, now,” you correct him, and he breaks out into a wide smile, his right eyebrow twitching up. 

“Is that so?” He searches your eyes for any falsehood, and you grin sheepishly, pressing yourself against his chest. 

“If you’ll let me, my love.” Suguru huffs out a laugh, and pulls you under the sheets with him in the midnight hour.

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover​ @jotazinha​ @just4readingfics​ @mxhi​ @sammytamaki​ @brownskinnedgirll​ @keelyshayee​ @leanne-tamashi​ @vabybizzle​ @amaris9​ @fuegy-fuegy​ @ambiguous-something​ @honoredsatoru​

did I hear that the General is getting an epilogue?

[shokobuns]

tutor

yuji needs some help and he gets more than what he asked for.

pairing: itadori yuji x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.8k

warnings: slightly suggestive, making out, boner

“you really don’t mind?”

he looked at you with wide eyes, his slight smile accompanied by his happy tone. yuuji was kind, you can tell by the way he talks to your other classmates, complimented by the comforting aura that he always brought along with him. despite your limited interactions, you didn’t see a reason to deny him the help that he needed.

“i don’t. plus, professor miyagi is one of my favorite teachers. i don’t see a reason not to.” you flashed a friendly smile to reassure him that it was fine.

“cool, cool,” he responded, a grin plastered on his face, “after school at the library then.”

the rest of your classes zoomed by as you daydreamed about yuuji (again). only this time, you were thinking about how you would feel if your hand brushed over his, how you would function while he was listening to you intently. it all made your stomach turn uncomfortably, but you knew you would have to eventually stuff it away.

-

“are you sure about that?” you asked with a guiding tone.

of course, you do your best to nudge him in the right direction, but sometimes it all just ends with his head in his hands and a small, albeit slightly concerning, joke about he’s about to fail the class. you can see his pained effort, the gears that struggle to turn in his head, and it chips away at your heart. you’re doing your best, why wouldn’t you, but the concepts aren’t sticking in his head.

“how about you try this?” you suggest, writing a small equation on his paper before handing it back to him. he grabs it in his hands, lifting it from the table, and stares hard. his eyebrows furrow and his eyes squint at the writing until his face relaxes and his head tilts. the dots connect and a wide smile replaces the confusion.

“wait, i think i got it!” he grabs his pencil, excitedly scribbling onto the paper before sliding it back to you and anticipating your judgement.

the writing, though messy, is correct and a feeling of satisfaction washes over you while he holds his hand out for a high five. when you look back at his elated expression, your cheeks get unexplainably hot.

it feels weird.

every greeting in the school hallways feel odd. every sly glance in his direction makes you feel guilty. every moment of a study session, particularly the ones when you can feel his breath on your face and the warmth radiating from his body, makes you feel awfully uneasy.

itadori yuji made you feel certain feelings, ones that especially plagued your stomach, your heart, and even your own mind.

and it was all new. you couldn’t think of a time when someone’s smile made your heart race or a person who made your ears perk up at the sound of their voice. though, you accredited it all to yuuji’s friendly presence. it was natural, he was always the type of person who can weave his way into people’s hearts with no effort. it was easy for him to speak to a stranger as if they were a friend, lend a helping hand whenever he could.

you just couldn’t reason how or when he wove so deep into yours.

the feeling was terrifying and it felt like you had something to hide, some dirty little secret, but you couldn’t pinpoint the exact feelings.

when the end of the school day finally comes, yuji is already waiting at your locker for your routine tutoring session. you two walk silently side by side and he seems completely calm, unphased by the lack of small talk, but you actively avoid eye contact in order to prevent those odd feelings from starting up again.

the library is closed.

“we can just go back to my house or something,” he proposes, his hand scratching the back of his neck, “it’s not that far of a walk. plus, i can cook for you. pay you back for your services, you know?”

you purse your lips, mulling over the offer. normally, you wouldn’t have to think about it. free food? the comfort of studying at home instead of the cold atmosphere of the library?

but from what you know about him, there’s likely not going to be anyone else there. it would just be the two of you. alone. together.

you shudder at the thought.

“i don’t want to be a bother-“

“don’t worry about it!” he grabs your hands in his, your eyes widening at the sudden contact. he’s friendly and the increased amount of time spent with him only made him even more comfortable around you. there’s more lingering touches, more of him being seated closer and closer. you’re not sure if he notices, but it doesn’t help ease your mind.

-

guilt.

it’s all you feel when you go home that night replaying moments with him again. the presence behind you while you tried to reach for a cup on a shelf, the brief second of when you felt his breath on your neck.

you feel guilty because yuji is tooth achingly sweet. he’s kind and his aura reminds you of a sunbeam. his attitude is almost childlike and almost always optimistic, always able to keep his cool when confronted with a minor inconvenience.

“fuck!” you curse as you scrub your skin, hot water and bubbles cascading down your body. even an hour later, he still plagues your mind.

an hour later and you can still feel his breath on your neck, the lingering touches on barely exposed skin, the slight dampness that had formed in your panties. it all started with flushed cheeks and fast heartbeats, but somehow this territory feels so wrong.

-

need help. come at 2. door’s unlocked.

“yuji?”

your concerned voice echoed throughout his cramped apartment. when there was no response, you entered, closing the door behind you and walking towards his bedroom. you hesitantly knocked, just in case he was sleeping. “come in!”

when you finally open the door, you’re met with the sight of yuji lying on his floor in a big t shirt, pajama pants, and countless homework assignments spread out on his table. “help?” you hummed with an amused expression planted on your face. “you were doing so well last time i was over, what happened?”

“just kind of lost motivation,” he sits up, his back leaning against the table, “professor miyagi assigned a shit ton of review of assignments and they’re all due this week. i may have procrastinated a little bit.” you laughed before squatting down until you were eye level with the boy. “you always have me to help you. professor miyagi tends to do that. it’s annoying, but i love the man.”

“nerd.” he muttered on his breath before you turned to him with a pout on your face, “guess i won’t help then.”

“take that back!” you immediately grabbed a pillow, aiming for his head. “i was joking!” he catches the pillow with ease, “i need some sort of motivation…” he trails off, his cheeks turning a bright red, something that you don’t fail to miss while he turns away in an attempt to hide them.

“oh, yeah?” you scoot closer until your arms rest on his knees, letting your head rest on top of them. you’re not exactly sure about where the uncharacteristically bold behavior came from, but it doesn’t change the fact that your heart is beating fast and your palms are definitely sweating. hopefully, he doesn’t notice. “what did you have in mind?”

“uh, i don’t know,” it seems as his voice gets quieter and quieter every time. it doesn’t seem like he’s completely at his usual confident levels, “i had something in my mind, but it was stupid.”

the small surge of courage races throughout your body when your face inches closer to his until your lips meet his. they’re soft and sweet, just like the man himself, and your heart melts when he cups your face into his bigger hands. pulling away, he’s wide eyed and giddy up to the point you entice him with an offer. “for each homework assignment done, we get to do that again, alright?’

though your foreheads are touching, you can make out the smirk on his face right before he gathers all of his things in order. the organization is sloppy, but if he understands it that’s all that really matters. while he scribbles down a series of numbers and equations, you lay on his bed, waiting for him to hand you something to check.

after ten minutes pass, he does and there’s a mistake, though you ignore it, opting to look at the problem for three seconds and tossing away the notebook instead. he doesn’t have time to process your legs straddling his lap, your soft lips melding into his.

his reaction is natural, hands coming down to your ass, giving a small squeeze as you grab his face with one hand, squishing his cheeks. his tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you let it enter your mouth, sucking on the pink muscle while he lets out a sweet moan. the sound fills you with a feeling of success, your crotch subtly grinding down on his lap.

you can feel something hardening under you, it’s unmistakable and it fills you with a sick sense of pride. yuji operates by instinct with every movement, the kisses are hungry and laced with need. another squeeze of your ass causes you to squeak while your hands keep him close.

you can’t think. you can’t feel.

your mind is completely empty because he’s overridden your senses from the feeling of his sloppy lips, the pretty noises he makes, the hard on that pokes through his jeans. eventually, he pulls away for air, heavy breaths that tickle your neck, his arms wrapping around your body.

you didn’t see a reason to deny him the help that he needed. and that included motivation.

“by the way, you got that problem wrong.”

“did we just make out for ten minutes for no reason?” he pouts as you laugh at his cute expression, “we made out cause i felt like it.”

“this doesn’t help with my homework motivation at all!” he crosses his arms, turning his back towards you. you wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder. you can hear the relieved sigh that leaves him and it encourages you to leave feather light kisses on the side of his neck, his body immediately relaxing.

“how ‘bout i give you a lil gift for finishing your assignments at the end of the week, hmm?” you suggest, your fingers interlacing with his. your hands trails down to palm his clothed length, your wet tongue dragging along the sweet spot of his neck up to his earlobe.

“a b- b- blow-” he manages to stutter out. you’re sure his brain is malfunctioned, but it only makes you feel triumphant when he pulls away and eagerly begins to write.

[g4rous]

Hello! Can I request a scenario (or hcs I don't really mind) about Itadori talking to his girlfriend about any past relationships they've been in and she mentions she's only had one boyfriend before who mysteriously disappeared without a trace one day and Itadori's like 'What was his name?' and she replies 'Yoshino Junpei'. How would that go down? What would Itadori feel like? How would he react? I feel really evil for coming up with this. Thank you! Have a good day/night! :)

Ok writing this hit deep 😭 whenever I think of Junpei in general, I always get so sad over the fact that he departed like that

He deserved way better, I wish he had more chances..

“His name was Yoshino Junpei.”

Funny how fast time flies by when you’re talking to your boyfriend right? It’s a rather sluggish Sunday, not much to do or that should be done. That’s what you thought until you received a phone call from Yuji, asking you to come over for one of your regular movie nights. It’s almost routinely for you two to engage in watching fun movies at the end of the week, and what’s a better way to make this bland Sunday more lively?

The way his face lights up when he sees you is absolutely endearing, and if that isn’t enough, his room and its enjoyable atmosphere make you feel right at home. You leaned next to him on the couch as he put his arm over your shoulder, gently running his fingers through your soft-like-silk hair, the gesture never failing to put a light smile on your face. You always found his presence so delightful, as it never failed to put your soul and mind at ease. Like a soft ray of sunshine peeking through your window and finding its way to your face, so warm, so snug.  It’s ironic how half the time you converse in all sorts of topics with Yuji and lose focus on the movie playing in the background; the reason you two are snuggling next to each other on the cozy couch in the first place. Not that it matters anyway, since you two find your random, deep conversations so amusing.

“Did you ever have anyone before me?” you voiced, now looking up at him and admiring his charming features.

“Like.. A girlfriend or something?” he asked, to which you gave him a slight nod.

“Oh, yeah. I had girlfriends before, but it wasn’t much if I’m being honest haha” he continued, slightly shifting in his seat, “sure, they were cute and all but it didn’t last too long.”

He paused for a second, only to plant a small kiss on your forehead, “none of them compare to you in any way.”

Snuggling closer to him, you chuckled and returned back the kiss. After a minute he asked you the same question.

“What about you?”

That smile on your face from a moment ago slowly started to fade as you remembered your boyfriend before you met the loving, good-natured soul that is Yuji.

“Yeah, I had a boyfriend before.” You paused, now staring at the end credits from the TV screen in front of you.

Noticing the slight change of atmosphere he gently asked, “Do.. you feel like talking about it?”

“It’s ok. He is.. Pretty quiet and can come off as rather shy. But he’s really nice and with a gentle temper. People often picked on him, but despite that he always remained kind-hearted.” You pause again, eyes still fixated on the screen, “well, he was like that when we hung out, I don’t know how he is now…”

“You’re not in any contact anymore or..?”

“Oh it’s not that! It’s just.. We never even said goodbye to each other. He just disappeared one day out of the blue. We were pretty close too, and rarely had any fights… I wonder, maybe he got tired of me but didn’t know how to say it?”

He looked at you with saddened expression, “That’s… horrible. What was his name?”

“Yoshino Junpei.”

And just like that, he felt the most bone-chilling feeling run through his spine, as if he saw the most gruesome scene unveil in front of him. Did he hear that right? This has to be some kind of a sick joke, right?

“Don’t worry about it though, that’s all in the past I guess.” You flashed him a small smile before looking up, only to see his petrified expression.

“Hey.. Yuji?” you asked with a puzzled face, but he didn’t hear anything. It was like he was alone in the room, in the darkness with all the walls coming closer and closer to him, a constricting feeling causing him to lose breath.

“What’s the matter?” you took his hand and gave him a worried look, to which he snapped out of his trance for a moment. His now pale face was covered by a cold sweat as he stared at you with those shaken brown orbs. Not a single sentence was able to form.

“Please talk to me.” You anxiously whispered to him, giving his hand a small squeeze.

What was he supposed to do? What could he possibly say? What could he possibly say to not cause you agony upon telling the truth you desired? Junpei was oh so dear to him even though they knew each other shortly, he couldn’t even imagine how horrific it would be for you to find out what really happened regarding your missing ex-boyfriend. It was a swirl of dire, sickening emotions. It’s like he felt the weight of suffocating dread and guilt from that day all over again.

But you, most of all people in this world needed to hear what had actually happened. That he didn’t escape from you or isolate, but rather he couldn’t return to you. And that bloodcurdling, unreal truth was about to be laid before you by Yuji himself.

[mkakki]

Skin and Bones

This song inspired this, whatever it is.

┐(‘～`；)┌

He tried to adjust as well as he could to this dizzying new world of curses and death. It was a whirlwind of emotions, no matter what he tried to do to comprehend it.

He never properly mourned his grandfather, the last of his family.

He was being treated like a curse, which, he was but that didn't stop it from bothering him.

He was too young to have accepted his own death.

But it's what you deserve, Sukuna whispered in the corners of his mind. Whether it was the curse whispering terrible sentiments, or just swearing at being trapped, Yuji never found much peace.

He should be grateful that Gojo-Sensei even gave him the opportunity to have a death that meant something.

So why did the thought of dying leave such a hollow ache in his chest?

"Itadori-San, I brought you a souvenir back from my recent mission!" His heart gave a sick lurch, even as the much rehearsed smile cracked apart his somewhat desolate gaze.

Even when it was raining so heavily like this, your smile was as bright as the sun. It was probably all in his head, but you seemed to radiate warmth just like the star, tickling at the very edges of his frozen being. It was amazing how, even if it was just for a moment, your presence made Sukuna quiet. He thought it was because of your curse technique, and the casual way you were able to handle any type of situation. Or how you never seemed to bat an eye at the curse, handling the snark with ease. You had even managed to not die outright when faced with the curse.

"You went all the way to Africa, right Y/n?" A sheepish smile replaced your typical radiance, a nervous chuckle echoing with the raindrops.

"They thought I might be able to help Okkotsu-Senpai, but all I managed to do was cause more problems. Our curse techniques aren't all that compatible, even if we're both pretty evenly matched strength wise." You sighed quietly, reaching to rummage around in the canvas bag slung over your shoulder. "I know he tried to downplay the severity of it, but I know it was frustrating. No matter what I did, I messed up."

"I wouldn't say you messed up! If they trusted you to go all the way there to try and lend a hand, odds are you're just as crazy strong as this Okkotsu-Senpai! I haven't met the guy yet, but he's only a year ahead of us and already being sent all over." He felt his manic smile start to slip as a familiar twinkle in your eyes returned. He knew he didn't have the right to feel jealous, from all you've said the upperclassmen was an amazing Sorcerer. It shouldn't be a surprise that you admired him.

"Someday I'll have better control over my curse technique and Okkotsu-Senpai will have to recognize me." Your eyes never hesitated to meet his, and it always sent a trickle of warmth traveling through his blood.

You should end up with someone who would be able to actually be there for you. Someone who could help you to grow and achieve amazing things in this world. Not someone who was nothing more than a vessel who would eventually be executed. He shouldn't waste time on these feelings threatening to bubble over in his chest, but he was inherently selfish. He would covet your attention and affection until the day he was unable too.

Would you be kind enough to write him a eulogy when he was gone? Would it offend you if he asked you too?

"There it is, I knew I had it in here!" You produced a small trinket, something made out of wood. To him, it looked like nothing more than a random lump someone had picked up from the splintered remains of a tree. "It's a good luck charm, the Shaman in the village I passed through made it specifically for you."

He tightened his grip on the trinket, eyes threatening to fill up with that bubbling emotion.

"You really shouldn't have, but thank you!" You gave him a bright smile, unaware of the pain brewing in his heart.

If life was different, he would be able to actually say something to you. Confess that in his darkest moments, thoughts of you kept his head afloat. He would take you on a date, even though you probably wouldn't be impressed with a simple country boy like him. He remembered the way you had smiled softly at his excitement when first entering Tokyo. Fushiguro had scoffed, but you began to recount stories of different places you had been too, and even promised to take him along sometime.

"I hope it brings you luck, Itadori-San."

His smile almost slipped, but he didn't want you to question him. It would take strength he didn't posses to explain everything to you.

For now he would just resolve to slowly succumbing to this empty feeling. He couldn't stand to be selfish enough to truly do anything.

Maybe someday, before he had to die, he would write you a letter.

Until then, he would covet these stolen moments with you.