#so yeah reader had a nightmare and satoru decided they should steal a car since she can drive and go for a little outing

[literaila]

Can we get a scene where reader and satoru get sent to the principals office? I think it would be so chaotic

“y/n,” satoru coos, poking at your cheek. “c’mon, i know you want to say something.”

you slap his hand away, refusing to look at him.

“you’re scowling, and your mouth keeps twitching,” your face hardens even more and satoru sighs. “just let it out. it’s just us, you know? no need to feel self conscious around little old me.”

you let his stupid arrogant voice ring out, crossing your arms.

your eyes are drooping, your neck is sore and you feel… furious, idiotic, nervous, and most of all—furious.

this is all gojo’s stupid fault, with his stupid ideas, his stupid sunglasses, and his stupid gps.

seriously, how dumb can one person be?

you’ve gotten in trouble with him before—for bickering during training, or stealing his snacks, or being late for dinner because someone forgot how to tie his shoes—but it’s never been this bad.

yaga’s never had to step out of the classroom for so long to… what? avoid a heart attack? keep his head from exploding?

so if you’re ignoring satoru and secretly plotting his demise, who can blame you?

if nanami were here, he would approve.

gojo groans. “just say something,” he pleads. “i hate the silent treatment. i might die. do you want me to die?”

and maybe it’s his tone of voice, or the innocence he’s showboating, or his mental incompetence, but you break.

“go to hell,” you hiss, still staring at the chalk board.

damn it.

he grins at you, pulling on the sleeve of your shirt. “that’s not very friendly,” he tells you. “what would haibara say?”

maybe you can’t look at him because his face is another one of your breaking points. if only yaga was as susceptible to his grin as you.

“he would tell you to stop antagonizing me,” you slump down in your seat, feet tapping against the floor anxiously.

“what? i wouldn’t do that to my favorite underclassman.”

“this is all your fault.”

satoru snorts. “i cant even drive,” he argues. “and you’re the one who made the key.”

“only because i was listening to you! you told me no one would even notice.”

“i don’t recall.”

“‘c’mon, y/n,’” you mock, “‘it’ll be fine. everyone’s sleeping. don’t you wanna go for a joyride?’”

“who is that supposed to be?”

“i can’t believe you.”

satoru sighs. “how is this my fault? you’re the one who couldn’t sleep.”

you finally turn to him, eyes sharper than daggers. his smile can go to hell too.

“i hope you’ve enjoyed your life so far because it’s going to be over as soon as we get out of here.”

“go ahead and try, sweetheart.”

“i will kill you—“

satoru shakes his head. then he holds his hands up in defense. “you try and help a friend,” he says, so pitifully. “you try to be nice and instead of thank you, you get threatened.”

you lean towards him unconsciously. everything about satoru is a antithesis to evolution, to karma. “you want me to thank you for getting me potentially expelled?”

he laughs. “you’re worried about yaga? that pushover? when me and suguru broke that wall he just told us that curfew was an hour earlier.”

“well we didn’t break a wall, you dimwit! we stole a car!”

satoru taps at the table, snorting. “dimwit? that’s what you came up with?”

“it’s four in the morning!”

“is that why you’re so moody?”

“i am not moody,” you kick at his leg. “you’re just annoying.”

if nothing else, at least the bickering is a nice distraction from the actual crisis at hand.

in a couple of days you’ll probably appreciate this moment for what it is. appreciate gojo for caring about your insomnia and pulling you away from your hell of a world for at least a couple of hours.

you’ll recognize him for what he is. you’ll remember that the only reason you agreed to a late night drive with him is because of those eyes, because he smiled at you when he asked and—

you’ll look back at this fondly someday.

but for right now you would like to blame gojo for everything and punch him in his stupid face.

he nudges you back. “you’re freaking out about this for no reason.”

“we’re locked in a classroom waiting for yaga’s verdict,” you grind out, “he dragged you in by your ear.”

gojo waves a hand. he leans back in the chair, hands behind his head. “he’ll yell at us for an hour and then make us clean the common room.”

“i saw a vein on his forehead.”

“that’s always been there.”

you sigh and close your eyes. “i’m going to be homeless. i’m gonna be kicked out and i’ll have to work at a gas station for the rest of my life and i’ll probably be fired and i’ll never amount to anything.”

satoru laughs.

you whine, laying across the desk. “i’m never going to see shoko again.”

“i’m sure she’ll visit you at the gas station. you know how much she smokes.”

you make a face. “i’ll have to find some old rich guy to marry.”

“just marry me instead,” satoru suggests, easily.

you give him a blank stare. “you’re already dead in this scenario.”

he yawns, looking around. then he turns back to you. “are you really only going to miss shoko? what about me?”

“i’ll go to your funeral, i guess.”

satoru pouts. “i was helping you! i’m older and wiser. just trust me on this.”

“i trusted you when you said there was no way for yaga to find out.”

“okay…” satoru licks his lips. “so i make one mistake.”

you glare at him. “one?”

he grins. “at least if we get expelled, we’ll be expelled together.”

“are you kidding? me and one of the three special grade sorcerers? you’ll get a slap on the wrist.”

satoru contemplates this for a moment, and you suddenly realize that he looks.. tired. did he stay up just to entertain you? should you feel bad for getting him in trouble because he wanted to make you feel better? should you care about him at all?

he taps at his chin, another smile breaking his face. “you bring up a good point. i’ll just threaten yaga if he tries to kick you out.”

you groan, rubbing your eyes, deciding you don’t care if he’s tired or not. “i genuinely don’t know how you’ve survived this long.”

“well, it’s—“

and then the classroom door opens.

both of you sit up—because despite whatever satoru might say, you know he’s just feigning nonchalance. if anything, he’s at least dreading a lecture.

its just instinctual when you open your mouth, really.

“it’s all gojo’s fault—“

“she’s the one who crashed the car—“

you both turn to each other simultaneously, words clashing into one another.

satoru frowns and you point a finger at him. “it’s called parking you asshole—“

and, okay. maybe its a little bit your fault.