mika, INTP, deftones, evanescence, jhene aiko. a proud black woman. maomao, suguru geto, itosh rin, itoshi sae, byakuya kuchiki, alucard tepes d1 glazer. currently obsessed with the apothecary diaries,blue lock and jujutsu kaisen.
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a/n: i watched the movie and i got to see my baby byakuya, im so hyped for the rest of the cour
ichigo kurosakiâ tutor au
ichigo had it all, not only was he insanely popular and liked by the entire student body but he was incredibly talented in basketball. the way ichigo walked simply had people gravitating toward him despite his mean case of an rbf.
everything in his life was just good except his performance in biology, there was something about it that made he want to pull his hair out, if he was being honest it is the bane of his existence. he tried countless times to improve from studying up all weekend to completing past papers to even attending personal classes with his teacher but to no avail. he was just half-baked.
atleast that was what he thought before tatsuki signed him up for the free tutor program, where all the top achievers would be allocated a failing learner and tutor them until the end of the semester or if both parties agreed to continue the program. it is a simple solution to everyone's problems, peer teaching has proved to be an effective method in studying as well as it lessened the workload teachers had in tutoring every learner.
ichigo palms felt clammy, he rubbed them on the sides of his pants as he walks to the bench you instructed him to meet him at, the one under an oak tree. ichigo wondered about how you would perceive him, a delinquent who is incapable of learning? a popular guy who only accepts the tutoring program because he is forced to do so? the possibilities are endless. despite the image he had he did slightly care about the opinions of others.
and in the far distance, ichigo finds a person seated on the bench, a biology textbook and notebook opened on the first section of the syllabus. the second the sound of ichigoâs footsteps reached your ears you looked up from your phone. he nearly tripped on the root leading up to the bench but he played it off cooley, you were stunning, his mind questioning why he never encountered you before.
âyou must be kurosaki ichigo.â you speak, his ears practically refining the sound to hear you better.
âyes, i am. nice to meet you.â
ânice to meet you too. well sit down so we can get startedâ you wave him over to sit beside you, the hoardes of students walking back home some tugging their own friends to go get icecream or hang out in a cafe together. ichigo greets back and sits right beside you hoping you wouldn't see the blush painting his ears a light red.
âso, i need you to show me how you study then we'll move on from there.â
âokay, what i usually do it try and complete past papers and i memorize the notes given to us.â he clears his throat feeling somewhat dizzy with the eye contact between the two of you. is it hot in here or was it just him?
âhmm. i see, i think your way of studying is inefficient, biology is one of those subjects that require you to understand the fundamentals so you can build a strong foundation,â you mutter bluntly. you pause for a second before continuing, âbut that's no problem, we can get you that a+ by the end of the semester.â
âreally?â
âyes, really. let's begin.â
and just like that, every monday and thursday afternoon the two of you would sit under that same tree, books sprawled open as you explained different concepts the textbook covered from how bacterial insulin is produced or the complexities of the negative and positive feedback loop in endocrine glands to the mere reproduction system.
this was one of those times where ichigo wondered why he hadn't gotten a tutor all along, sure your teaching style was a bit strange at first but over time your personality really started to shine through, he could tell that you were passionate about getting him to understand the concepts. his favorite thing about you being his tutor (aside from him having a crush on you) was how patient you were with him.
whenever he didn't understand a topic you'd substitute your explanations with hobbies he liked in order to build interest. never once did it feel demeaning or rude, it felt nice knowing someone actuality believed in him.
clearly that was prevalent in his results and he came rushing up to you a paper in his hand. âi did it.â he said housing a small smile on his face, a rare break from his frowning resting face.
âsee i told you, you could do it. i might have to keep an eye out for the top achiever in this subject because you're catching up to me.â you grin back, noticing the exceptional results on the page.
âyou might have to, im a fast learner, ya know.â
âthat you are. so what do you want as a reward.â
âanything is fine.â
âwell then iâll get us two tickets to don kanonjiâs live show this friday. I'll send you the details.â you wave him goodbye, your bag slung over your shoulder.
âbye!â he says excitedly. finally an opportunity to see you outside of the school premises. ichigo paused his celebration as he loomed over the words you just said.
was this a date?
byakuya kuchiki â arranged marriage
you knew what you were signing up for when accepting this marriage proposal, this was the life you were raised to live. to be an extension of your family by strengthing your social standing with other noble families.
so why did you feel offended by the lack of acknowledgement from your husband? sure you knew these types of marriages were often loveless, lacklustre and nothing but an appearance to uphold your family reputation but you could stop that intense feeling of rage and frustration mixing like an odd concoction. half your life you spent subduing your real personality, feigning this regal persona you couldn't quite perfect, softening your voice to placate the harshness of clan elders, all for who? for a man you'd rarely speak with.
the only glimpses you would share with byakuya would be simple conversations at dinner or the bland goodnights you'd mutter as you fall asleep beside him, yet you wanted more. you wanted him to really look at you, perhaps roll over and wrap his arms around your waist as you slept but you received nothing but silent breaths mingling with the distant cicadas.
however today felt off, the sun had dipped below the horizon, the dinner you mad growing colder and colder. why would you even care if he was home or not? âyou didn't really about himââthat was what you would say if you weren't pacing around the room like a lunatic. you didn't care infact you were headed straight to bed.
the second you hear a knock on the door, you run to the door opening it to hear the bad news, âsorry to bother you so late, but i brought captain kuchiki back.â renji stutters out
âyour efforts are appreciated. i'll will take over from here, you just have a good night.â you lift byakuyaâs arm around your shoulder pulling him into the house. you stumble all the way to your shared room multiple questions just brew in your mind. byakuya carried the faint smell of cherry blossoms and it somehow suited him. you gently lay your husband down against the plush bed, his ears and cheeks just brushed with a light pink colour.
âyou're so beautiful, you remind me of my wife.â he slurs out, pupils dilated at the sight of you hovering over him to remove his hair heirloom.
âwhat makes you say that?â
âyou have the same kind eyes as her, and likeâŠuh. face. you look like her.â
this was the one time you would get to know where byakuya's head was at, and how he truly feels about you, âso you are you fond of this wife of yours?â you remove his captain's garments and replace it with sleepwear.
âfond? that would do a disservice to how deeply i feel about her. i am a fool, i lay beside her every night and yet i, i,â he hiccups, âi cannot even seem to express to her that i love her, what if she despises me.â
âsurely your feelings are reciprocated.â you hold back a smile, moving to blow out beside him. his arms snake around your waist before pulling you right on top of him. a squeal escapes your lips but he couldn't be concerned as pulled the covers over you, âstay with me.â
uryu Ishidaâ academic rivals
nothing tasted better than getting good grades, a motto you always lived by. day after day you would put more effort than the average student into your assignments by always handing in before the due date, cross referencing with teachers and most importantly getting total for all your tests, earning you the title of âthe high achiever.â this was how your life was till your final year of high school.
your eyes zoned in the boy who introduced himself as, ishida uruyu. now one might wonder why you'd waste your precious time looking at him and the answer would be simple, you were analysing him. just for scientific purposes of course. gauging his academic output based on his appearance alone. what? you were rarely wrong.
luckily ishida wore his personality on his sleeve. he was the average quiet boy, nervous personality, the type you'd rarely see considering this school wasn't exactly prestigious. some parts of you wondered why he would even choose to learn at this dumpster fire of a school, clearly he had the academics to study elsewhere but that was none of your business.
uryu on the other hand had been informed by some weird orange haired guy of your academic prowess. why he felt the need to tell him confuses him to this day. to uryu his only goal was to achieve the best marks he could possibly obtain and apply to medical school or rather a goal set by his father.
the versatility of the degree was undeniable, the pay was good considering there was a demand for it globally, but it just didn't feel right to him. the sole reason for his academic success was just to receive the slightest acknowledgment dealt to him by his father, that was it.
uryuâs thoughts had been halted by the arrival of the teacher in his hands were stacks of paper that determines ones future. he goes from person to person dishing out the most recent test and folding them depending on the mark they recieved.
âlooks like we have a tie for this first test, with both of them receiving 98% is [name] per usual and our newest student, Ishida.â the bald man announced with his monotone voice guaranteed to make you fall asleep. the second the classâs claps ceased uryu spinned back to catch a better look at his competition and his jaw almost dropped.
there you sat, your face indicating your scrutinising mood. to uryu, not only did you look insanely pretty enough to make him shift his glasses, but your outfit was just so well put. the way you styled your hair, the colour nail polish you adorned was enough to pull him in like a piece of steel to metal.
unbeknownst to someone admiring you, you flipped through your test wondering where your two marks were lost and in true academic fashion you sauntered over to the teacher's desk, his red pen already in hand ready to rectify any errors he made while marking.
âexcuse me sir, but could you tell me where i went wrong here?â your voice soothing uryu's ears, and for the next six minutes, not that he counted, you spend arguing on the outcomes of the answer, before walking right up to him.
âhi, sorry to disturb you but did you get this question right?â you point to the section where you lost marks.
âuh, no problem.â uryu fumbles, flipping to the page you showed him. for a moment you compare answers reaching for your calculator before accepting defeat.
âyour method isn't wrong, you just substituted the wrong numbers.â he blurts out, his ears turning a slight red.
âoh, well i still don't quite understand but, thank you.â you tilt your head examining the two papers. you return to your seat absent-mindly, your attention focused on the distant soccer field.
and before you knew it your title as the top academic achiever had been stripped. well, not necessarily, you were just forced to share it with uryu who would somehow beat you by a half mark. not only that, you overheard uryu and the delinquent ichigo speaking about you, then laughing right after. because of that you now held a one-sided grudge against him.
suguru prided himself on being a secure personâsure, there were times where his self-assurance would wane but through your gentle reassurance he got over his once frequent fit of jealousy.
and yet it never occurred to suguru that one day he'd be competing for your attention, never mind the fact that he'd be competing with his very own cat. that smug little thing.
he could still remember the day you met the furball. you walked in with such caution stamped into your stride, eyes taking in the decorations of his clean apartment as you were led to his bedroom.
you place yourself near the corner of his bed watching suguru rummage through his wardrobe to find something comfortable for you to sleep in. he was completely oblivious to the feral anxiety clawing up your throat. what if satoru doesnt like you?Â
there was just something about a cat's intuition, blessed with the ability to read a person's character like six eyes intensely inspecting every aspect of one's soulâor perhaps you were just being overly superstitious. nonetheless you needed to impress that cat.
suguru interrupts your thoughts as he planted a pair of sweats and a hoodie for you to sleep in, then escaping to the kitchen to prepare snacks for your movie marathon.
it was at this exact moment that suguru should've known what the universe had in store for him. there goes a ball of white fluff in the direction of his bedroom. satoru was on a mission to investigate the new scent, a rare thing he had the opportunity of doing because his owner was rather⊠antisocial.
satoru trots into the bedroom a blue castle-like structure comes into view and beside it was the guest inspecting his scratching post. he stands by the door, blue eyes narrowing in on the guest.
satoruâs tail curls in fascination, blue eyes narrowing as he inches closer to you. now if satoru had been a normal cat he would have simply lost interest in the second human being in this apartment or maybe hiss at you, but no satoru charges at top speed bumping into your calf like the attention seeker he is.
your eyes snap to furball a small squeal of excitement escapes your lips as you bend down and hover your hand near his nose for him to sniff. the second satoru's nose touched your palm, he decided you were worth his time and therefore he liked you.
and from that day forward you had been inseparable. literally. on the days you'd stay over satoru would damn near teleport to your lap, the second suguru would try and lift satoru off he would hiss like he had grabbed his tail.Â
don't even get suguru started on how you would push him aside just to fawn over satoru. this was a betrayal so shocking it would put judas to shame. satoru was supposed to be his cat, and yet every time you would leave satoru would whine so much his neighbours would complain.
suguru swears satoru steals your attention just to spite him. yet there was nothing he could do but attempt to cuddle you and pout every time satoru hisses at him.Â
â⊠synopsis: bllk men get withdrawals from your attention.
âincluding: sae, kaiser, isagi
ââ⊠sae
âsomething was absolutely off. usually at this time you'd prance around your shared apartment singing or complaining to yourselfâbut now it was crickets. he watched you make breakfast for yourself, a blank expression on your face.
âwhy? all because he called your current tv obsession half-baked, and in his own defence he didn't even think you'd take it this seriously. he felt as if he made one wrong move then he would be sleeping on the couch, so he said no more.
â"so are you just going to ignore me?" he asks with a bored tone, sipping on that tasteless bullshit he drinks in the morning an unflavored protein shake.
ânow to him you were probably mad about his egregious statement against your favorite show but you were conducting a serious science experiment, one that would change human history. your hypothesis was that if you did not initiate emotional or physical intimacy then sae would hopefully compensate to restore "balance"
âwas it ethical? no. did you want to see what would happen if you pretended to be angry at him/ ignoring him? absolutely.
âand so your little experiment began.
âfor the first two hours of the day it felt normal, nothing out of the ordinary, he was aware that you had the sleep schedule as capricious as the weather, so he paid no mind to it. it was only at this moment when it dawned on him that you were ignoring him.
âby now he would have heard your favourite term of endearment, "kitten whiskers," or your odd jokes but no. he sat staring at you wondering when your shenanigans would end. not that he missed your nonsense or anything.
âby the time it was midday he sat pouting to himself, today's practice felt weird yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it. perhaps it was the lack of smothering you gave him before any matches or practices. maybe it could be the fact that you didn't even text him goodbye. sae was so engrossed in his sulking that he couldn't even pay attention to the vulgar jokes shidou makes. it got so bad that he nearly got hit in the face with the ball, emphasis on nearly.
âthe second he returned from practice he kicked off his shoes, flung his bag on the couch before padding to the bedroom and plopping right on top of you.
âresults: he barely lasted six hours.
âconclusion: he seeks out affection more than he lets on.
â"you realise you're sweaty as hell, right?"
â"i know, just let me hug you."
â
â⊠michael
â"i am not addicted to your attention." the blonde scoffs. looking back on this, he was seriously mistaken. the two of you interlinked pinkies as you declared a bet,
â"tommorow we'll see how long you go without attention, if i win i get to post anything on your account."
â"anything? on my main?" kaiserâs eyebrows raised.
â"yes. don't tell me you don't believe in yourself." you taunt holding back a sinister smirk.
â"we have a deal."
âthose were probably his famous final four words, because you were indeed correct, he was an attention whoreâfor you. he laid next to you on the bed and you didn't even move to pepper his face with kisses nor did you rake your hand through his luscious hair.
âbut kaiser put up a brave facade acting like your lack of attention didn't affect him, he could handle you not even looking in his direction or laughing at his strange jokes, but this? he could not handle the excessive amount of attention you showered ness with.
the second ness came through that front door, michael felt like he had to compete with his best friend ness, and news flash he wasn't winning. ness began to charm you with his sweet âboy next doorâ personality, a type of shyness kaiser did not possess. hell, you even giggled at him, whereas kaiser didn't even receive as much as a mere glance in his direction.
in you're peripheral you could see kaiser's persona cracking fast, it was only a matter of mere hoursâno scratch that minutes before kaiser finally gives up on the bet but only if you played your current cards right. usually in the many bets you made with your boyfriend you'd never really put all of your effort towards proving your point but this was the one time to get back at him.
by nighttime, as predicted, kaiser clung to your waist mumbling about he hated needing your attention. you ran one of your handââs through his hair, another reaching for his phone. it was time for revenge, you surf through a private album of pictures on his phone and post a old picture of kaiser in highschool sporting a cunty bald look.
you posted it on his professional account with the caption, âworked so hard my hair fell out.â you did this for two reasons, one, the memes that would arise from this picture would be legendary, two, revenge for him accidentally posting a picture of you sleeping in a contorted manner. you were now equal, so equal that you'd give george orwell a run for his money.
⊠isagi
you were having a great day, the sun casting its warm summer rays in a calm way. not only was the weather perfect but your hair, outfit and make was perfect too. to isagi there was just something about seeing you feel and look your best, it felt like a reward.
isagi only had a great day when you were looking at him. therefore his current dilemma. before he even got the chance to admire you, you were out and roaming the streets of spain before he even cracked his eye open. lying beside him was a small note which read,
âgood morning, if you need anything i am just a call away. also good luck with the project ego sent you on, sincerely [name]. ps. that was not a reference to that evil man sincere.â
isagi groggily prepared for the so-called getaway ego plan for him. in all honesty he felt off kilter, practically thrown off of his familiar routine where you'd usually wake him up to soft encouragement or a kiss to the cheek, but today nothing.
he got to experience spain like a tourist, he went from one grand building to another, before joining the tour guide ego hired for him. how this would help with soccer baffled him but what could he say ego was kind of his coach and manager, meaning he had to trust the man.
isagi blends in with the crowd feeling a small twinge of pain on the left side of his chest, a pain that could be only soothed by your presence. every time he walked past a couple he'd glower at them also internally huff at the sweet gestures they did for each other. to isagi, you were so lucky getting the opportunity to explore on your own accord but he tried to stop sulking.
the second he returned to the hotel room, his smile up his entire face, he cast away his souvenirs and shuffled right next to where you sat huddled up in blankets, snacks beside you and watching some show.
âyou're finally back, how was your day?â you greet, your hand patting the empty side of the bed just ready to unwind and soak in each other's presence.
âboring, you weren't there. if you were, it would been ten times better.â
âaww, well we have a few more days left in spain so we'll explore together.â
isagi hums, climbing into the bed and settling his head on your chest as you resume your show.
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êźŒ alt!geto always finds new ways to prove his love.
ኞ alt!geto as a boyfriend âžâž art by hunnismokah âžâž not proofread.
alt!geto who lets you toy with his various lip piercings during aftercare & honestly whenever you want, always getting lost in the soft touches & tugs as he practically melts into your fingertips.
alt!geto agrees to giving you piercings at home as long as you let him help you clean them up so they don't reject or get infected.
alt!geto has a peekaboo dyed to be your favorite colorâalways showing it off whenever he puts up his hair or gets the chance to show off his pretty hair devoted to his pretty girl.
alt!geto shares his entire closet with you, from his too-loose rings & necklaces, to his jackets, shirts & sweaters; he'll even buy certain shirts he knows you'll just steal out of his closet, just because you'll like them
alt!geto is big on DIY gifts; he'll make you trinkets from clay, sketch out posters for your walls, make a little box for you to keep everything of his in, and paint your favorite things. His favorite gift he's made was a bouquet blanket that he crocheted.
alt!geto lets you press him down flat on his stomach so you can color in the tattoos splattered across his backâteasing you occasionally by arching his back to distract you whenever you're too focused on his skin.
â"look guys, i found these brownies, it looks so bomb." gojo saunters back to chair, the chat exploding with people addressing his height.
â"i might as well answer some questions because suguru abandoned me." gojo pouts completely disregarding the fact that it was 3 am and people had lives outside streaming.
â
â@diehondblaff: so like are we going to discuss how messy your room is orr?
@madiprogs: you're always eating sweetsđ„±
â@d1alucardglazer: how you stay muscular is a wonder to me, your dentist must work overtime.
â@4soggygrapes: omg omg i love browniesđ
â@beeswaxinatrap: ^oh cause we were wondering
â@bigrahgama: ngl gojo should just put the cakes down
â@toejivoete: where'd you get that?
â@kimdraculadft: how tall is this bigfoot đđđ
â@erenja2hard: genuinely why does my girlfriend like you?
â@cellophaanepain: so like when are you leaking suguru's number đ„č
â
â"notice how you guys always beg for q and a's but you never asked any juicy questions." gojo waves his spoon around just waiting to dig into the chocolatey goodness.
â"if someone donates ten thousand then we'll talk about leaking suguru's number. infact why don't you guys ask for my number, like I feel left out here." gojo finally digs his spoon into the edges of the dish, taking a bite and letting out a soft hum.
â"this tastes like heaven. sometimes I forget my wife is a great baker." gojo smiles mischievously into the camera, he had to instigate fan edits. after all it's what keeps the lights on and maintains his expensive lifestyle.
â
â@utautaprincess: wife? i beg your finest pardon? đ
â@professionalbottom: ain't no way he has a wifeđđđ
â@zuzuzuko1: wife? himđđđ
â@professionalomega: our apologies sir gojo, we weren't familiar with your game
â@getosxmark: you guys must be new here, gojo's wife is his roommate đđ
â@ryoryomensk: bro she's so cuntyđ€
â@cablecutter7: bro when am I seeing my wifeđ
â@pinkhairyuri: GUYS GUYS what if he does the qna with [name]? đ€·đżââïž
â@gyrozeps: ^NOT ridiculous
â@giftifgif: YES, YES, YES, GOJO PLEASE.
â@coraline4707: nah pack it up
â@gojosstainedblindfold: the people have spoken please bring [name]đđ
@syphatopstrevor: the crowd yearns for [name]
â@ryommensukunaâ: actually lock in, how the fuck do u fumble someone you live with?
â@rhyslarsenhater: gojo kinda fine.
@earth2ynâ: if I'm his wife then pigs must be flying đâïž
â@nctnxtcleour: not her responding đ
â@mikalovesbleach: how would you ever live this down.
â
âthe second your name appears on the chat he straightens his posture, his blue eyes illuminating under the soft studio lights, "hmm, I would love to make it know that i'd love for, [name] to join, but she's currently mad at me, what should i do for you to join?"
â
â@earthtoynâ: give up sugar for a week.
â@earthtoynâ: also stop stealing my skincare.
â@pe3kthreetims: the girls are fighting đ
â@frierenhelmxs: gojo not having sugar is like protein synthesis without the amino acidsđâïž
â@stsgdfendr: gojo couldn't give up sugar if he tried.
â
â"you guys aren't very encouraging, after I'm not the one who wants to see her, i see her everyday." gojo's eyebrows furrowed. of course he had been offended, watching his audience that he so kindly nurtured from the ground take your side. to be fair it was entirely his fault, but that's not why he was offended. he was offended by people's lack of belief in his ability to quit sweets. the treated him like so type of a addict, which he was not
â
â@renalovedf1: someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed...
@tojisshoulderbladee: bro's mad because he knows he's losing the betâ ïžâ ïž
â@senbonbya: bro is past insulin resistance đ¶
â@worldleaner: can some tell, [name] to adjust the bet, like we are never gonna see her with willy wonka's nr1 connoisseur over heređ
â@azulachoppedsbangs: i just know gojo's the type to fall into the chocolate river
â@appasgreyarrow: yeah no like atp we'll just cherish the five [name] clips we have âïž
â@sugurugetoâ: can confirm satoru is definitely not winning the bet.
â@lockdisknees: [NAME] PLEASE JOIN THE STREAM AND MY LIFE IS YOURS.đđ
â@earthtoynâ: ladies ladies, one at a time.
â@earthtoynâ: i'll be there next stream, i have to drop lore about satoru.
â
gojo knew the next time he'd stream he'd be dragged for days on twitter, only god knew the dirt you held on him
a/n: hopefully I didn't tag random people into my bullshit đâïž
Summary: Dating a womenâs studies major has turned Sukuna into the frat houseâs most feared feminist. Now the frat boys canât make a sexist comment without getting a lecture, while you sit back and watch.
A/n: just fun lil thing i thought of :)
The frat house was unusually quiet, no music, no party, no sports discussions.
This was because Ryomen Sukuna was standing in the living room with his arms crossed, looking genuinely disappointed.
âDid you just call her a bitch?â
Satoru Gojo, halfway through stealing someoneâs energy drink from the fridge, blinked. âWhat?â
âYou called that girl a bitch.â
âShe literally stole my hoodie after our hookup,â he shrugged him off.
Sukuna pointed at him. âAnd? Speak like a man. Have some respect.â
The fraternity and sorority had gathered in one room to brainstorm ideas for a charity fundraiser. People were throwing out suggestions.
Raffles. Bake sales. Auctions.
Then Satoru snapped his fingers. âI got it.â
Immediately, you looked concerned, because he never had good ideas.
âWe do a joint event with the sorority.â Satoru grinned. âThe girls wear maid outfits and serve drinks.â
The room erupted into approval.
âThatâs genius.â
âPeople would love that.â
âEasy money.â
Across the room, Sukuna slowly lowered the energy drink from his hand.
âInteresting.â
âNO,â Gojo yelled. âLet me have this one good idea,â he groans.
Sukuna stood. âLet me understand⊠the women wear maid costumes.â
âYeah.â
âAnd serve drinks.â
âYeah.â
âAnd what are the men doing?â
Toji shrugged. âWe could do some strength challenge.â
âWhat kind?â
âI donât know. Lifting something heavy.â Several people nodded.
âClassic.â Sukuna stared. Then looked at you, looking for approval to go on a rant.
Sukuna turned back to the room. âThe women get assigned a service role. The men get assigned a strength role.â
More silence.
âBased on gender.â
The room collectively sighed.
Sukuna pointed dramatically. âWhy.â
Satoru finally spoke. âBecause thatâs what people want.â
Sukuna gasped.
You smiled proudly at your boyfriend, waiting for him to call out their blatant sexism.
âPEOPLE EXPECT IT?â
âYeah?â
âSo weâre just reinforcing traditional gender roles for profit now?â
The room erupted.
âITâS A CHARITY EVENT.â
âYOUâRE MAKING IT SOUND EVIL.â
Sukuna ignored them. âMisogyny is evil.â He pointed toward the sorority members.
âWhy are they the ones serving drinks?â
One of the sorority girls raised her hand. âHonestly, I donât want to wear a maid costume.â
âTHANK YOU.â Sukuna was fully activated.
You were delighted to see how this was playing out.
âExplain to me,â Sukuna continued, âwhy the men canât wear maid costumes and serve drinks.â
The room went dead silent, and you almost spit out your drink.
Toji blinked.
Satoru blinked.
The sorority sisters were stunned. âWhat?â
âThe men.â Sukuna spread his arms.
âNo.â
âWhy not?â
The room burst into laughter.
âIf serving drinks is easy money, then congratulations.â He slapped the table.
âThe fraternity is serving drinks.â
The sorority girls immediately started cheering.
âYES.â
âMAKE THEM DO IT.â
Toji looked horrified. âAbsolutely not, Iâm not wearing a maid outfit.â
Sukuna leaned forward. âFragile, typical response from men. Toxic masculinity, machismo, societal expectations.â He says pointing a finger at different men around the room.
You had your face in your hands, trying to hide your laughter. You had to show support for your boyfriend, but couldnât handle him naming every term he could think of.
Sukuna pointed around the room. âIf the costumes arenât degrading, wear them.â
Silence.
The sorority girls were having the time of their lives. One of them pulled out her phone. âIâm ordering maid costumes right now.â
The fraternity erupted in panic.
âSTOP HER.â
âWE CAN STILL NEGOTIATE.â
ââ-
Two weeks later, the fundraiser ended up being the most successful event in frat history.
Mostly because nobody could resist paying money to watch a group of deeply embarrassed frat bros serve spiked lemonade in maid outfits.
Toji looked dead inside.
Satoru refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Meanwhile Sukuna carried a tray through the crowd completely unbothered.
His maid outfit fit surprisingly well, as he served you a drink.
Across the lawn, Satoru was being forced to say âWelcome home, masterâ for a twenty-dollar donation.
The sorority was making a fortune.
Sukuna took one look at the donation total and smiled. âLook how good weâve done so far,â he said enthusiastically.
âIâm so proud of you,â you said before leaning in for a kiss.
âBy the way, I think you should bring home this costume when youâre done here,â you said; snapping the thigh high sock on Sukunaâs thigh.
ânot because he believed the dorms were safe enough to disregard his personal safetyâbut rather because his best friend came storming in like a category five tornado at odd hours of the day. but what could he say? he was already used to it.
ââtoday no different, you barged into his dorm bedecked in soft pyjamas and fluffy slippers, suguru turned his head towards the alarm clock perched on his bedside table now which read, 2:24 am. typical.
ââ"another all nighter?" suguru says, his voice flooded with fatigue that the day brought upon him, perhaps it was the perks of being friends with an academic achiever. he was meant to ensure you didn't burn out before the end of the semester.
â"yup. you won't believe what I saw."
â"is this worth messing my sleep schedule over?"
â"hush, most of your classes are towards the afternoon. besides, i brought you a muffin as compensation." you smile holding it in front of him.
â"half-eaten muffin?" he muses, a loose hair strand flutters over his eye.
â"i'll have you know, the walk to the library to your room is quite tiresome."
âsuguru sits up, patting the bed to signal for you to begin your endless prattling. you plop down tossing your tote bag somewhat across the room, slipping your shoes off and shuffling into his covers with all the audacity in the world.
â"so you know that guy i walking about the other day? the one with the greenish hairâvery creepy guy."
â"hmm, i think his name was... niyo.. niera... no, naoya. naoya that's it. well, what about him?" suguru makes himself comfortable as he lays his head on your lap awaiting for more information.
â"you know how i said he'd never get a girlfriend? well guess who i see making out with him?"
â"it's definitely not shoko, she hates him, so does utahime... would it be crazy to say yuki?"
ââyes it would be crazy, i could never imagine her dating a dum." you brush your fingers through his hair mindlessly.
â"apologies for not knowing, after all i only know her through you."
â"not the point but i was walking to check in the books i borrowed, right? then lo and behold, i see naoya shoving his tongue down meimei's throat."
â"you're lying," suguru springs up, a perplexed expression on his face, before laying down to continue his head massage "doesn't she like them young?"
â"that's what i thought too. but i genuinely thought naoya was going to die alone with the shit he says about women."
â"misery loves company as they say."
â"ya know, if you ever said something like that i'd put nair in your shampoo."
â"i wouldn't say shit like that, besides if you put nair in my shampoo you can't threaten to turn my hair into a wig anymore."
synopsis: blue lock characters who got their traits/hobbies from their best friend, you.
including: sae, shidou, hugo
âȘsae
âitoshi sae finally understood the epitome of true annoyance. the term nonchalance had always been in tandem with sae's name. the people in his life were constantly feeling frustrated at his stoic demeanor, short and late responses, occasionally his sarcastic remarks, however you were on another level.
âsae was not familiar with your game.
âbefore you moved out of the neighbourhood, you, sae and rin were inseparable, especially with sae. the two of you were practically attached at the hip like some type of freakish monster terrorising your parents' sanity.
âthe two, well, three of you pushed the boundaries of life in your own childlike way by walking on the concrete barricades that separated the roads from the beach, eating sweets right after lunch or even returning home ten minutes late.
âsae liked to downplay the impact you had on him mainly because he knew he missed you dearly. not that he'd make that known. from the snacks and ice cream flavours he chose, to even the way you behaved, he emulated it as a source of comfort.
âthat uninterested expression you often gave people who didn't amuse you, the slow and relaxed walk you had were all features he admired. so why was he frustrated now?
âwell, he currently sat in a dimly lit restaurant with a bouquet of flowers beside him and an annoying waiter walking back and forth to collect his order.
â
âsae: Where are you?
â 8:17pm
â you: relax, I'll be there soon.
â 8:25pm
âsae: Where are you! it's been 20 minutes, [name]
â 8:48pm
â seen
â
âand nearly an hour later you arrive with a jacket dangling from your arm, and your slow unbothered walk. "hi sae." you drag the chair in front of him, your eyes holding some amusement.
â"no apology for being late?"
â"my bad."
âjust as he opened his mouth to chide you, but he realised he was no better. he had done the same thing to multiple people, including you. the only reason he wasn't late was because you both arrived after the agreed time of 7:30pm.
ââȘshidou
âeven as a young boy, shidou knew he was different. atleast compared to his classmates he felt things more viscerally, in everything he liked and did he would put an insane amount of passion into it. his class projects? they would constantly get displayed as an example of being a diligent student.
â
âdon't even get him started on art and soccer, he would dedicate his heart to the point of shunning some guy named erwin, his art displayed vibrant colours somewhat matching his personality, taking references from history and mangas he liked. his soccer play style resembled his erratic personality that he so desperately suppressed.
âthese displays of passion were the very reason he got bullied throughout the chunk of his primary/middle school daysâand for a while it seemed like this would persist even throughout highschool, until that faithful day and exchange student joined the school.
âhe could still remember the essence of confidence you carried that day, your alternative style immediately a point of contention in a homogeneous school. the more familiar you became with the environment the more you let your personality show.
ânot only was your personal style jarring but your personality was just... loud. shidou liked that. it was at this time that shidou started incorporating elements of gyaruo subculture into his own style. out of a spike in confidence, shidou walked up to you and asked how to do eyeliner.
âyou squealed in excitement, pulled him to the bleachers and sat on a step higher than him, you pulled out black eyeliner and began explaining the tips you had gained over the years.
â"how are you not bothered by everyone calling you weird?" he asks, trying not to blink while you worked on his waterline.
â"honestly? anyone who can't keep up with my explosions or personality can just die. why would i entertain their hating behaviour," you grin, swiping an eyeliner smudge before continuing "just remember that, okay?"
âfrom that moment forward shidou vowed not to make himself palatable to anyone. did this isolate him? kinda, but why would he care when he had you as his best friend, and a new found passion for makeup.
â
ââȘhugo
âone thing vivian always noticed when hanging out with you, was the fact that you were always reading something. whenever he'd walk into your room he'd notice your collection of books growing more and more, so much so that you'd give rory gilmore a run for her money.
âwhenever the book you were reading was too thick to put into your purse you'd get the ebook or audiobook or make hugo carry it around for you. sometimes he would flip through its content to see the books you were reading were dipped in such dense jargon, but that didn't stop him from listening to you talk about them.
often the two of you would hang out in the mall, without fail you'd always manage to drag the soccer player into the bookstore. you would walk through each aisle with such an infectious joy, detailing all the books you've read or the ones on your tbr.
â"oh my gosh, viv, the book i was telling you about!" you squeal in excitement.
â"which one? the one about about someone turning into a cockroach"
â"oou, i love that book but no," you pick up the book with a white background with pink and orange font, "this one is the one about the popularisation of misogynistic rhetoric in social media spaces, you should read it."
âhugo places your book recommendation into the basket. "i'll read it then."
â"don't just say you'll read it and then let it collect dust. I will make sure you read it." you threaten, the two of you walking to the religious and philosophical section.
âit was this point where he realised that he hadn't really researched the very thing he believed in, destiny. there stood countless books theorizing on the existence of destiny yet he didn't know any of them.
âand if there was one trait that was starting to rub off on him it was your insatiable hunger for knowledge. if you didn't know or understand something you'd go home and research it.
âhe picked up two books on destiny before catching up with you at the tills. it was time he picked up a book.
âa/n: yes the title is a reference to the song billie jean by michael Jackson, also peep my book recommendations in hugos one đ„čâïž
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âyour eyes narrow in on the unsuspecting victim walking to the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist as he happily hums to himself. you on the other hand were "watching" something on your phone.
âthe perfect conditions for you to pull your bullshit pranks. you know what they say, a scare a day keeps the doctor away, or however that saying goes. the door closes behind him, music already blaring from his phone.
ânow, if you harboured any bit of decorum and compassion, you would have stayed seated on your shared bed, waiting for him to crush you to sleep (cuddle) but luckily you didn't. you stood up from your warm blankets and tiptoed to the bathroom door, holding in giggles.
âyou wait for the shower to begin running, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. and just as shidou reaches the highest note of the song he was currently belting to, you had switched off the light in the bathroom.
âmuch like his singing, shidou screeches in utter fear, you hear the doors to both the glass shower door and the bathroom open. and out comes a tan unfinished mango running into the bedroom where he slips and slides across the marble floor.
âyou clutch your stomach cackling at shidou. "oh my god, you should have seen the...the way you flew." you wease.
â"what have i done to deserve this?" shidou turns to face you, a small pout forming on his lips.
âyou are a lot of things but being petty was surely one of them. while shopping you came a cross an item that was sure to bring amusement out of you and irritated from barou. why? because he threw away your two year eyeshadow palette that had supposedly "rotten."
âindeed it was complete and utter madness!
âthere he sat on the white plush l-shaped couch. now, if you had lived alone you wouldn't even dare to pick such a risky colour but luckily the man you lived with was a clean-freak.
âyou walk to the couch, holding a "wet" canvas. "i'm finally done working on this piece, I think the colours came out pretty well." you say to your boyfriend, holding it in front of his face like you painted the mona lisa.
â"i like it just don't get the paint on the coâ"
âbarou's eyes watches the canvas fall in slow motion, he lifts his hand to try and catch it but gravity worked faster than his reaction skills, the painting fell right onto his plush couch
â"..."
âbarou's eyes dilated as the silence stretched, his mind flipping through archives of knowledge on how to remove stains. he was done for.
âunable to remain remorseful, you burst out laughing, his head snapping to you in shock, but unfortunately he was too stunned to speak.
â"don't worry, it's washable ink, im not that cruel." you say giggling, a hand ruffling his gel free hair.
âsae, a man known for his accuracy on the field, his monk-like discipline. sae was a very particular man, especially about sleeping with an eye mask. maybe to others it would be insignificant, not essential for optimal alertness, but to him it meant everything. he couldn't go anywhere with them in his bag.
âthe man had an impressive collection ranging from silk, egyptian cotton and cashmere sleeping eye masks. yet, the one that he held dear was the one you got him as one of your birthday gifts.
âyou snuggle in bed pretending to sleep, when he rummages through your shared bedside tables for it, he stands in the middle of the room hands on his hips as he recounts what distracted him so much to the point of treating his gift so carelessly.
âunbeknownst to him you hid his favourite one in your pyjama pocket. "what's taking you so long to switch off the lights and get to bed?" you sit up feigning a groggy demeanor.
â"i lost it."
â"what?"
â"the eye mask."
"okay? just use your other ones."
â"no, i need this one, i have an important game this week." he frowns, running a hand though his hair, his adorable bangs were down untainted by that godforsaken gel.
â"which one was it, the black one?"
"yes, have you seen it?"
"oh, well... i kinda used it to squash a spider." you laugh awkwardly. it was very rare to pull expressions out of sae, if you did it was always subtle. but today, he was bewildered, beguiled, perplexed by your words.
"...you what?" he responds, his eyebrows practically touching his hair line. before he knew it all he heard was uncontrolled laughter, laughter he associated with the many tiktok pranks you pull on him. you wave the eyemask in front of him, your giggles pulling a small smirk out of him
â"only you could say something as ridiculous as that." he mutters, switching off the lights, wearing his eye mask and sleeping like the princess he was.
a/n: i lowkey want to make a part two with hugo, kaiser and hiori
ê° summary ê± when a misunderstanding leaves your family convinced youâre bringing a plus one to your cousinâs wedding in Japan, the last person you expect to volunteer for the role is your infuriatingly observant intern, Satoru. itâs supposed to be temporary. professional. strictly off the record. but with your mother already sold on the idea of your mystery boyfriend, and Satoru proving far too good at the role, pretending starts to feel a little too dangerous. also, why is your âinternâ secretly the heir to gojo corporation?!
ê° tags/warnings ê± fake dating âčïž undercover ceo! satoru âčïž accountant! reader âčïž satoru is 29, reader is 26 âčïž lots of family pressure. reader has a complicated relationship with her mom âčïž forced proximity âčïž one bed trope âčïž slow burn âčïž mutual pining âčïž wedding chaos âčïž angst and fluff âčïž some suggestive content but no explicit smut âčïž
ê° authors note ê± hi cuties! this is a commission piece, and it is about 12k total. this first part is just shy of 6k and the second part will be out next week. i hope you enjoy đ«¶đ» (art by @/hanamin_0123 on x)
"Oi. Boss lady."
âNo.â
One problem at a time, and the spreadsheet in front of you wins by default. Because Column F is wrong. Itâs been wrong for forty fucking minutes, and if it stays wrong for forty seconds longer, you may actually die here at your desk â hunched over, half-blind, and found by Shoko on a Monday morning with your face pressed into a pivot table like a cautionary tale.
"But⊠you don't even know what I was gonnaâ"
"âthe answer is no, Satoru."
Unlike the human embodiment of a headache currently lingering on the other side of your desk, the spreadsheet in front of you is at least pretending to be important.
The chair beneath him creaks, and then comes the silence you know too well. Itâs the one that comes right before he decides to be a problem on purpose. Attention is gasoline and Satoru is, structurally, a fire hazard. Still, your eyes flick up, andâ
"No fairâŠâ he huffs, that ridiculous pout tugging at his lips. âYou didn't even let me finish the question."
Your eyes roll back down.
âMhm.â
"And it was such a good question.â
You turn a page. "Really?â
âYup.â Heâs draped over the corner of your desk now, like gravity has wronged him, whining. âIt was such a thoughtful⊠personal⊠deeply relevant⊠extremely genius level getting-to-know-you tier question thatââ
You scowl. "âSatoru, enough. Just do your job."
It lands harder than expected. The sigh he lets out is deeply, theatrically offended. And when you glance up again, heâs sprawled over that same corner of your desk you made the mistake of clearing for him on day one because youâd thought, foolishly, that giving him a designated surface might contain him.
It had not.
Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.
Snowy white hair falls against his brow, sleeves rolled to his elbows; looking far too expensive and far too comfortable for someone whose official title is intern. His coffee is sweating beside your open planner â the one with a date next week circled in red: WEDDING, scrawled across the margin in your own handwriting. The condensation trails towards a stack of vendor invoices andâ
âŠ
Wait.
Are those the same vendor invoices you asked him to file yesterday?
Fucking great.
âOh, câmonnn,â he grumbles, blinking at you over the rim of those absurdly expensive sunglasses he insists on wearing indoors. âOne question. Just a tiiiiny one. Itâs completely harmless. Humor me, yeah?â
You narrow your eyes.
âSatoru, youâve been trying to ask one question for the last four months.â
âYeah,â he says. âAnd youâve been dodging it for four months. Imagine that.â
Technically⊠four months and four days. But whoâs counting?
With an exhausted groan, your eyes fall shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. Noise drifts in from the hall â the elevator, the printer, a phone trilling somewhere nearby. Â But when you look up again, it all seems to fall away.
Heâs gone strangely still. The smug grin hasnât disappeared, but itâs softened at the edges, hooked at one corner with his head tilted slightly. And those eyesâŠ
Oh.
Thatâs â no. Youâve seen his eyes before. Obviously. Four months of them. But right now, with the morning light doing something cruel and unhelpful behind him, they catch in a way that makes you forget you were mid-thought. The kind of blue that doesnât ask if youâre looking. It already knows.
Which means of course, you look away first. âFine.â Your hand drops as you mutter. âOne question. But if itâs stupid, Iâm sending you back to HR.â
Itâs not much of a threat. Itâs his last day, after all, and for reasons you still donât fully understand, Satoru has always seemed oddly immune to consequences â which, frankly, feels statistically improbable given the amount of shit heâs managed to pull in the few months of being here.
âOne question?â his grin sharpens. You point your pen at him. âDonât make me regret this.â Yet his pleased chuckle is already making you. âAwhh⊠look at you. Finally yielding.â His pen twirls between his fingers, nodding with false solemnity. âOkay. So, hereâs the thing⊠throughout these four months working beside you, Iâve seen a lotâ"
ââthatâs not a question.â You deadpan.
But ignoring you, he reclines back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head.
âLiiiike⊠Iâve seen the exact face you make when Mei-Mei emails you,â he smirks. âEven noticed you work through lunch more than you should. And Iâve noticed that little line right hereââ he gestures vaguely between his own brows ââevery time the budget goes sideways.â
Lips parting, you blink.
âŠwhy is he so observant?!
For someone who acts like he doesnât give a shit, heâs strangely attentive.
You clear your throat, huffing. âOkay⊠whatâs your point?â Your hands straighten a stack of papers that doesnât need straightening. âIs there a question in here somewhere, or are you just reciting my habits back to me for fun?â
His grin is far too pleased. âRelax. Iâm getting there.â And leaning forward, his voice drops, like heâs unraveling a conspiracy. âI just find it interesting how you answer work calls before the second ring. Every damn day. Doesnât matter who it is.â His head tilts with a smug grin. âBut for whatever reason, for the past month, your personal phoneâs been ringing off the hook, and you never pick up. Not once.â
Heat creeps up your neck. Not because heâs wrong â but because heâs right. And he said it like it was nothing. Like noticing the pattern of your avoidance was just something that happened to him between stamps.
Oh.
Way too observant.
Shit. He couldn't have settled on what's your favorite color!? Or, what superpower would you have!? No. Of course he had to go for the fucking jugular.
Okay. Nevermind. Heâs wrong. That is not even remotely whatâs happening. The most committed relationship youâve had is the one with your coffee machine. And yet⊠part of it feels almost cosmically cruel.
Because somehow, this is the second time in a month that someone had looked at the scattered pieces of your life and decided a man must be hiding inside them. Except the first time, you never even got the chance to correct it.
After all⊠how do you tell your mother sheâs wrong?
Last month, you still answered her phone calls.
Not because you expected anything different. But because somewhere between the second ring and the third, thereâs this gap â this stupid, paper-thin gap â where you still believe she might ask how youâre doing and actually wait for the answer.
Some habits taste like smoke. Some burn like liquor. But yours, unfortunately, had always looked a lot like hope.
Hope is a terrible habit youâve never been able to kick.
âOhâuh, hi mom!â
Your phone was wedged between your ear and shoulder while you stepped out of your car, juggling your purse and what was left of your sanity. You were already behind schedule, and your mother was calling â which meant the day had already made its intentions very clear.
âWhatâs up?â the door slammed shut with your hip. âIâm actually about toââ
ââTrish sent the venue photos,â she blurted, launching into a conversation like always.
Blinking, you shook the bitterness away. Striding toward the towering glass of Gojo Corporation. âThatâsâyeah, thatâs great,â you muttered, badge in hand as you pushed through the front doors. âBut Iâm actually heading into work right now? Soââ
ââItâs such a beautiful venue,â she ignored you. âVery traditional, very grand. But you know the Zenin familyâthey never do anything small.â And as she sighed in awe, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
The rational part of your brain told you to let this go to voicemail. But the rational part of your brain has never once won this fight. BecauseâŠ
Hope is a terrible habit youâve never been able to kick.
"Mom, I'm sure it's lovely, really⊠but I'm kind ofâum, excuse meâŠ" you pivoted around a man in the bustling lobby with a sigh. âSorry. Iâm literally walking into the building right now? But maybe we can revisit this later andâ"
"âhave you booked your flight yet?"
Your mouth flattened.
Clearly, your half of this conversation is optional.
âNo⊠not yet,â you mumbled, as patiently as you could manage, jabbing the up button harder than necessary. âItâs been a crazy ass week so I havenât had a chance to, butââ
ââevery week is a crazy week for you.â The huff she let out sounded almost offended by the inconvenience of your life. âWhy canât you just book it now while weâre talking? I mean, it literally takes five minutes.â
A miracle, really, that your blood pressure isnât a medical emergency.
Every week is a crazy week?
Yeah. No shit.
Two managers resigned last quarter. Another got escorted out by security. And their work didnât disappear. No. It landed on your desk. Because thatâs how it goes. Thatâs how itâs always gone. Group projects. Internships. End-of-quarter disasters no one else wanted to touch. If something needed fixing, it found its way to you.
Youâre the one people relied on.
Just⊠never the one people chose.
âMother. Iâm at work,â you said, stepping into the elevator as the doors slid open, dropping your voice as you stabbed at floor fifteen. âLookâIâm about to walk into an eight a.m. meeting. But Iâll book it tonight, promise.â
ââŠeight a.m.?â she repeated slowly, before letting out a small, unbothered laugh. âOh! Right. Itâs eight p.m. here. Silly me. I keep forgetting.â
âŠ
Keep forgetting?
She keeps forgetting that sheâs ten thousand miles away? Forgetting that twenty years ago she abandoned you in another country to live abroad in Japanâhanding you to your grandparents like a detail she'd get back to later?
How convenient that she forgot that.
The elevator slid shut, and you watched the numbers tick upward. âUm. YeahâŠâ you managed, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. âAnyways. Iâll book it tonight. After work. Okay?â
"Okay, okay. Sure. Sounds good. But are you bringing anyone?â
Squeezing the strap of your bag, you swallowed the lump in your throat. This again? The last thing you needed was to walk into your shitty eight a.m. meeting looking emotional.
No thanks.
âI⊠uhâŠâ you cleared your throat. âI umâactuallyâhavenât decided yet. But anyways, I gotta go, soââ
âWaitwatiwait. Havenât decided? Does that mean⊠you actually found someone?!â
Her voice pitched up so fast it almost startled you, and your mouth dropped so low it couldâve hit floor one.
Shit.
âI-IâI didnât sayâ"
ââoh, thank God. This is incredible!!â she squealed. âWeâve been so worried. I meanâTrish is younger than you and she figured it out,â her tongue clicked. âPeople have been asking questions, you know. Your aunt Sara keeps bringing it up every time I see her andââ
ââMom, Iâ"
ââItâs about time,â The laugh she let out was relieved, like a problem in her life had finally begun resolving itself. âYou canât keep putting love on hold forever, because men arenât going to wait around forever. Youâre already twenty-sixânot getting any younger, dear.â
Love?!
Who has time for that?
And why the fuck is twenty-six the age a woman expires?!
âWhatâs his name?â she pressed, practically beaming through the phone. âWhat does he do? Is he from there, orâoh, is he Japanese? Your father would love that, he always saidââ
And she was off.
Spinning an entire man out of thin air. An entire future, really. Building him in real time from a tiny slip up you had because you were too tired and cornered and desperate enough to answer the phone in the first place. And you stood there, letting her. Because interrupting her has never once worked in the history of your life.
ââactually, never mind,â she chirped a moment later, as if she was being considerate now. âYou have work. Iâll call tomorrow and you can tell me everything, yes? Okay, bye-bye honeyââ
Click!
And just like that, the elevator went quiet. You were left staring at your reflection in the metal doors, phone pressed to your ear, listening to the silence where your motherâs voice had been.
âWeâve been so worried.â
âŠ
If they were so worried⊠why had you spent most of your life learning to take care of yourself? And yet, the second there might be a man, suddenly youâre worth getting excited about?
Funny how that works.
Scoffing, you lowered the phone, shoving it into your bag just as the elevator chimed open. Itadori Yujiâs head snapped up behind the reception desk.
âMorning, boss,â he waved, radiating sunshine as you walked towards the conference room. âKentoâs asking if youâre still good for the budget review at eight⊠or if I should just tell him to panic.â
Your smile softened, burying the sting. âYes⊠Iâll be right there.â And as you stepped through the polished glass doors, you played the role youâd always played.
The reliable one. Twenty-six years old, with two masterâs degrees, a career at one of the most competitive corporations in the world, and a team of seven that would quietly fall apart without you.
ButâŠ
None of that glitters quite like a diamond ring, does it?
âOi,â Satoru frowns. âYouâre makinâ that face again.â
âHuh?â
Blinking out of your spiral, your eyes trace back to the man across from you. His chin is resting in his palm, those impossibly blue eyes fixed on you with a quiet stillness that makes something in your chest trip over itself â like a lock turning in a door you didnât know was closed.
âOh.â You clear your throat, forcing the pen back into motion. ââŠwhat face?â
âThe one you make when somethingâs wrong,â he says quietly, gaze unmoving. âWhen youâre upset and trying to act like youâre not.â
For a second â one terrible, unguarded second â you donât have a single thing to hide behind. Itâs just him, looking at you like your well-being is something heâs been keeping track of in a column you didnât even know existed.
But then the sarcasm kicks in, right on time. "Wow," you say, forcing your hands back to the papers in front of you. "So⊠now you read faces?"
âMm... nah. Just yours, sweetheart.â
And that grin â god, that fucking grin â hooks at one corner like he knows exactly what just detonated inside your chest. You donât acknowledge it. Acknowledging things have consequences, and consequences with this man are not something you can afford.
"âŠthatâs highly inappropriate," you mutter, shoving it down. "Letâs maybe redirect some of that insight toward the invoices, yeah?"
âSorry, sorry.â He leans back, hands up like heâs the picture of innocence. âWouldnât wanna start shit with your dear future husband.â His grin goes sharp as he twirls his sunglasses between two fingers. âThough, wow. Tough look for him. Whatever he did, he clearly fucked up bad.â
Why does he sound⊠bitter?
No. You must be imagining it. This is Satoru. Satoru, who treats everything like a joke until proven otherwise. Satoru, who doesnât care enough about anything to sound bitter over a man who may or may not exist.
You scoff. "Youâre making some wildly stupid assumptions right nowâŠ"
He stares at you for a beat, then he flops back in the chair with a dramatic huff, long legs kicking out in front of him, mouth dragging into a sulky pout.
âWell, damn,â he grumbles, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, rolling his eyes. âNo wonder youâre single if this is how you shut people downâŠâ
The second the words leave his mouth, he blinks. His gaze flicks up to yours like he hears it too late â like he realizes, all at once, how shitty that sounded.And it only feels worse the moment he sees your face.
God.
Of all the places to hit.
âOho⊠wow. Okay. This?â you say with a thin, self-deprecating laugh, chair scraping as you shove back from your seat. âYeah. This is exactly why I shouldnât have let you ask, Satoru.â You reach for your planner, your purse, anything to do with your hands besides let them shake.
He straightens, watching you scramble. âWhoa. Wait. Iâ"
ââbecause you donât know when to stop!â The words come out louder than you mean, blinking at the sting behind your eyes. âYou just keep pushing and pushing and pushing until you get what you want. Well good. I hope youâre happy.â
Before you can turn away, heâs on his feet. âWaitââ And the moment his hand catches yours, you freeze, breath snagging.
His voice is quieter now. His grip is firm yet gentle, and the air between you shifts, while something warm and uneasy twists low in your chest. The kind of feeling that makes you want to lean in and run in the same breath.
Though your eyes stay down. âSatoru⊠let go.â
âI didnâtâŠâ he starts, then stops, gaze flicking to where his fingers still circle your wrist â before climbing back to your face, slower this time. âIâm⊠sorry. I justââ His mouth tightens. âI see how hard you work, okay? I see it. And every time that phone rings, you get this look on your face like itâs already ruined your day before you even touch it. AndâŠâ His brows pinch. âFuck. I dunno why, but it pisses me off!â
Your gaze hesitantly drags to his, and the look in his eyes is softer than they have any right to be â all that blue, stripped of its usual sharpness, turned careful. Like heâs stepping toward something breakable and knows it. Like⊠if he asked once more, something in you might actually give.
âSatoruâŠâ your breath hitches. âI-Iâ"
âOh, finally.â
Shokoâs voice trails in, and your head snaps up so fast your neck almost goes with it. Sheâs leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, coffee in hand â looking like a woman who arrived exactly on time for something she's been expecting all week.
Her gaze flicks down to where heâs holding you, and the corner of her mouth twitches.
"Sooo⊠not to interrupt whatever this is," she says, taking a sip, "but Kento's one eye-twitch away from a medical event. He needs you to sign off on the variance line before he starts reconciling his own will andâ"
You're already jerking your hand back. "Yupâcoming!" And as you step away, heat floods your face, but you don't look back. Not once. Not even when you feel him still standing there, watching you go.
Because looking back would mean acknowledging that something just shifted. And you are not â not â doing that today.
Unlike those invoices, perhaps some things are better left⊠unfinished.
Youâre gone in a blur of heels, nerves, and professional self-preservation, leaving Shoko trailing behind and Satoru staring at the empty doorway like maybe the conversation might wander back through it.
It doesnât.
And itâs not long before his mouth is pulling into a slow, petulant poutâjust before he flops back in the chair with all the elegance of a man personally betrayed by the universe.
Un-fucking-believable.
Heâd almost had you! After four months and four days of being stonewalled, redirected, and professionally shut down, youâd finally looked like you might give him something. A crack. A sliver. And then Kento had to ruin it with his stupid reconciliation sheet, his stupid earnest face, and his stupidly impeccable timing.
âŠ
He could fire Kento.
Should he fire Kento?
As tempting as that thought is, Satoru settles for glaring at the empty doorway a second longer before dragging a hand down his face and raking it back through his hair. Thereâs no point. This performance will end soon. Because by this time tomorrow, heâll be on a flight back to Tokyo. Where he can resume the slow, agonizing process of preparing to inherit a company he didn't actually give a shit about.
'Grow up, Satoru.'
'Apply yourself, Satoru.'
'You have no idea what it takes to run something like this, Satoru.'
Right. Because apparently, the heir to a multinational corporation needed to learn humility. Alphabetize files. Sit in a cubicle. Fetch coffee like some goddamn spreadsheet slut with a trust fund and nowhere to put it.
Four years of business school, two years shadowing his father; and yet, this is what they had for him?!
He scoffs. And when his gaze drops to the wreckage of your desk, heâs pulling the stack of vendor invoices toward him with a sigh that sounds put-upon even to his own ears. Youâve been nagging him about filing them for the better part of the week and⊠the least he can do is clear one thing before he goes.
The stamp thuds against the first page. Then the next. Then the next. And with muscle memory taking over, his face goes blank in the way it always does when boredom finally wins. Itâs mindless shit. Still, heâs used to it. So naturally, when the phone on your desk buzzes, he doesnât think twice; snatching it up, tucking it between his ear and shoulder as he reaches for the next invoice.
Itâs probably another budget nuisance. Or Mei. Or one of the other thousand little crises that seem magnetically drawn to your extension.
âYo,â another stamp echoes. âSatoru speaking.â
Thereâs a sharp inhale. ââŠwho?â
His brow lifts. âUh⊠Satoru?â Another thud of ink slams against the paper and he huffs, annoyed. âWhat do yâneed?â
The line goes quiet for a beat too long. Before the woman on the other end finally murmurs, âSatoruâŠâ Sighing in awe. âWhat a lovely name. Is that Japanese?â
"Uh⊠yeah?â he snorts, flipping to the next page. âI mean. Last I checked.â
âMm⊠I thought so!â She giggles. And her voice pitches like she's just unwrapped a present she didn't know she was getting. âSo⊠Satoru. Why exactly are you the one answering her phone, hm?â
âŠ
Why the hell does this woman sound so invested? And why is she asking questions that should be obvious?
Frowning down at the invoice, he stamps it harder.
âBecause it rang?â He says it like itâs obvious. âAnd uhâsorry, but. Maybe because Iâve been with her for months, so⊠why the hell wouldnât I?â
"Months?!â A soft gasp crackles, far too delighted. âYou'veâyou've been with her for months?!"
"Mmm⊠four months and four days, technically."
Heâs been her intern for that long.
Thatâs the question, right?
"âtechnically?!" she squeals, like the word personally seduced her. "Ohmygoodnessâoh, this is perfect. Four months and four daysâthat is so specific.â
He blinks. But she doesnât give him time to process.
âLook at you Mr. Devoted. Keeping track. I was starting to worry sheâd never find someone like you. Every time I asked it's like pulling teeth. But I knew there had to be someone. I told her fatherâI said, there is a man, I can feel it.â
Pausing mid-stamp, the words slowly begin to catch up. Satoru straightens.
"âŠsorry. Who is thiâ"
ââeveryone is so excited to meet you at Trishâs wedding. I already reserved your seat andâ"
Her voice keeps going⊠and going⊠and going. He pulls the phone away slowly as her voice echoes on the receiver, staring down at the phone in hand to see:
đ Mom
Oh.
Oh, shit.
This is not your work phone. Your work phone is currently sitting at its dock twelve inches to his left. And it dawns on him that he accidentally just spent the last sixty seconds answering your personal phone like an absolute jackass andâ
"UhâŠâ he backpedals. âWait. Iâ"
"I told Sara, I said, we have to meet him andââ
"Stop. I-I really thinkâ"
ââSatoru, what are you doing?â
His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, mouth dropping as he sees you standing at the doorway, eyes wide in horror.
Oh, fuck.
âWho is on the other end of that phone,â you hiss.
He winces, pulling the phone from his ear like itâs toxic â and youâre snatching it right out of his hand. He lets you have it without a fight, sinking back into the chair like heâs trying to physically dissociate from the situation heâs just created while you press the phone to your ear.
âAnd I meanâŠâ she rambles. âI certainly was never one to wait around at twenty-six, believe me. Butâ"
"Mom."
"Oh! Honey!â She gasps. âOh, my goodness, hiâI was just having the loveliest chat withâ"
"I'm at work. Gotta go."
"âokay! I can't wait to meet Satoru, heâ"
Click!
The phone sits in your hand like evidence.
And Satoru â to his credit â has the decency to look like a man standing in the blast radius of his own stupidity. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Like heâs rehearsing an apology in a language he hasnât learned yet.
You stare at him.
He stares at you.
And somewhere ten thousand miles away, your mother is already calling your aunt Sara.
âSooo⊠funny storyâŠâ
ââwhat did you do?!â
Satoru flinched, and now, the tears were already rolling down your cheeks â hot, fast, completely unauthorized. Not the kind you could disguise as allergies or blame on the air conditioning. No. The ugly kind.
Great. Fucking great.
You were standing in the middle of your own office, in the building where you work, crying in front of your intern. And Satoru felt the weight of it all at once. In the last four months, he had seen you in every flavor of workplace misery there was. Pissed off, stressed out, one spreadsheet away from actual murder.
But cry?
Never.
And this had his fingerprints all over it.
"Shit," he breathed, panic flashing across his face. "Iâfuck. Okay. Please don'tâI can fix this. I canâ"
"Fix this?" A splintered laugh ripped out of you, and you hated how thin it was. "Fix what, Satoru? You just confirmed a boyfriend to my mother, a boyfriend that doesn't existâand she is, at this very moment, probably alreadyâ"
Another break in your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your hand to your forehead hard like you could hold the tears in by sheer force. But it only made it worse, because now you could feel the wetness on your own face, the heat of it under your palm, and the mortification landed like a second wave.
God. How fucking humiliating.
"Hey, heyâit's okay,â his voice softened. âWe'll just⊠call her back. Right? Tell her it was a misunderstanding. Easy."
âEasy?â you scoffed, the word coming out strangled. âY-You donât understand my mother, Satoru,â you managed, voice gone thin as thread. God, you sounded like a child. âIf she thinks something is true, then itâs true. Thatâs it. Thatâsâthereâs no correcting her, thereâs no walking it back, sheâs already told my aunt Sara by now and Saraâs told Trish andâoh, fuckââ
Another sob tumbled out, and your fingers dug harder into your temple.
God. Stop it.
Stop it stop it stop it.
Think.
Think logically. You're good at this. You solve problems for a living.
But every time you tried to grab onto a thought, it slipped â replaced by the echo of your mother's voice, high and delighted. The happiest she'd sounded talking to you in years. Maybe ever.
âŠwhat look will she give you when you show up alone?
"I canât," you whispered, and the word came out waterlogged. "I-I'm supposed to get on a plane to Japan in a week andâdo what? Tell them there's no one? Tell them I'm stillâ"
Single.
The word sat in your mouth like a stone. You didnât realize youâd gone silent until the silence itself started ringing â your sniffling, the hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled life of the office continuing beyond the door like yours wasnât actively coming apart at the seams.
And through all of it, you could feel Satoru looking at you. His stillness; holding you with an expression you'd never seen on him before and couldn't categorize if you tried.
"UmâŠâ he looked down, scratching the back of his neck. âSoooo... the wedding's in Japan?"
You blinked. âWhat?â And as you wiped your face with the back of your hand, his gazed tentatively flicked back up. âThe weddingâŠâ he repeated, voice careful. âItâs in Japan?â
"Yes." Your brow furrowed, not understanding. "Why?"
He didn't answer right away. Just looked down at the floor for a second, jaw shifting, like he was turning something over in his head â something he hadn't fully assembled yet but could already feel the shape of.
"Huh⊠okay."
Okay what?
You watched his expression change in real time â from guilt to calculation to something else. "Right then!" He said, clapping his hands once, bright and sudden. "No biggie. I'll just go with you."
No biggie?
Your mouth dropped.
That wasnât even an option, was it?
âŠis he crazy?
âYouâre kidding,â your laugh was awkward and breathless. His eyes rolled with a smug grin. âSweetheart, câmon,â and he was gesturing between the two of you like the answer was sitting there in plain sight and you were the only person in the room committed to not seeing it. "Your family thinks you're bringing someone? Cool." A hand pressed to his chest with theatrical solemnity. "I'm someone."
You stared at him. Genuinely stared.
Oh. He wasnât kidding.
Yup. Heâs crazy.
"You are not 'someone,' Satoru. You are my intern."
âYeah. For like⊠another six hours?"
He checked his watch with a shrug, and your lips flattened.
"âŠthat is not the point."
âMm⊠feels a little like the point."
He smirked, but it faded faster than usual, dimming at the edges as his blue eyes hesitated on yours. Something shifted in his posture; the performance pulling back, like a tide going out. "Um⊠lookâŠ" He pushed off the desk, stepping closer. "Itâs really no hassle." He said, hands sliding into his pockets. "I already have a flight scheduled. My family's in Tokyo. And I was going back after this internship anyway, so⊠this just moves my timeline back a little."
He was shrugging like it wasnât a big deal. Like he wasnât agreeing to fly across the world with you and walk straight into the disaster that was your family.
âŠ
His familyâs in Japan too?
You barely knew anything about him. He kept his life sealed off with the same practiced deflection you kept yours â jokes in place of answers, charm in place of honesty. You never bothered to ask, because asking meant caring and that was a door you never intended to walk through with anyone.
ButâŠ
"Just⊠let me come with you. Iâll be your boyfriend for the weekend. For the wedding. For⊠whatever you need,â he said. And this time, when he stepped closer, there was no grin to hide behind. "I can be useful. I caused this. So⊠let me fix it."
Heat creeped up your neck, and you scoffed, weakly.
"Okay⊠but you can't fix my mother."
"NoâŠâ he murmured, tilting his head. His hand came up and brushed a tear trailing down your cheek with a careful gentleness. âBut⊠I can make sure you don't have to walk in there alone?"
Your breath hitched, and when your eyes finally lifted, the morning light was being cruel again â catching in that impossible blue and turning it soft. Like stained glass dipped in sunlight. Like something holy made dangerous by the simple fact that it was looking straight at you.
âShut up,â you mutter, looking away too fast to be convincing.âThat was not a look. I was justââ You grimace. ââŠnever mind.â
Heâs chuckling as you brush past him. And his words are what scared you the most. Which was bad. Very, very bad. Because your mother was one problem. Japan was another. But Satoru looking at you like that?
ShitâŠ
That felt like the kind of complication that didnât stay neatly contained. And you knew better than anyone. Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.
a/n: hehe. this has been fun to work on! i am excited to share the next part. clearly i love these fake dating/fake marriage tropes aha đââïž bc this is like... whatâmy third time doing it? soooo i tried to change things up and make it feel less standard/generic :) but anyways, like i said pt 2 will be out in a week, pls lmk if you wanna be tagged đ
ichigo knew his duties often left him with little time to maintain his relationships but you remained faithful, that's why he dragged you all the way to the annual carnival to spend his rest day with you.
the two of you spend hours trying the many rigged games the carnival had to offer, but did that stop ichigo from winning them? no. he spent twenty minutes and a ungodly amount of money just to win you the giant stuffed animal currently obstructing your view.
the lights of the carnival begin to dim down indicating it was almost time to leave, on your way to the exit you notice a stall. âhit a score above 600 and win two stuffed animals! only $1,99!â
âichigo, hold my purse.â
you rummage through your bag for the right amount before pushing your giant stuffed animal and purse infront of him. he knew from the way your eyebrows furrowed in determination than to distract you.
ichigo, a substitute soul reaper, an anomaly in soul society's history was blushing at his reflection in a whirly mirror. it was not everyday anyone saw him housing such a soft expression, let alone the sight of him around a fluffy lion and a purse.
handing the money to the dealer you ready your stance. taking a deep breath as you focus your attention on the red ball, you whip your hand back striking it in the center.
in all honesty ichigo was so prepared to pay a second time to win you two extra prizes but you clearly didn't need that.
â663, 664, 665, 667, 668âŠâ the score reads with no signs of stopping anytime soon. perhaps ichigo should have you win him gifts.
sometimes you wondered how the two of landed up together. here you two were, in the most jarring place a noble could be, the club. byakya also wondered how he ended up at such a unbecoming sight, well it wasn't hard to guess considering all you did was bat your pretty lashes at him and he folded under no pressure.
he navigated through the unfamiliar environment by simple latching onto your hand. you walk to a far more secluded area where there were two lines on either side of the wall. you stand behind another girl, with him trailing right behind you like a lost puppy.
âplease hold my purse for me.â you hand him your bag, disappearing into the bathroom. much like himself, there were also men leaning on the wall waiting for their partners.
his ears and cheeks were slowly brushed with pink flush. he had an image to uphold even if it was being in the club. what would his clan think, that he had gone soft? who was he kidding, the entire soul society knew of his intense affections for you.
he slings the small bag over his shoulder with a feigned nonchalance, standing with impeccable posture as he waits for you.
the two of you stood infront of a vintage thrift store, a fifty percent sale on top of the countless racks. this was done serious business.
âplease hold my purse.â you ask, your eyes zeroing in on the vintage adidas athletere. the only problem standing in the way of your dream clothing was the small crowd of people in the way.
since when did people thrift? you don't even wait for the response, pushing the bright purse into his chest before disappearing into the crowd.
zaraki blinks in confusion but ends up sliding the purse on his armâmore like forarm. he did not care about the stares people gave, but rather he was more concerned about the lack of training his subordinates were getting. a break from fighting? he did not like that.
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suguru geto would look exquisite if he was pregnant. you had a habit of telling him that.
it happened for the first time when you were on a mission together. a curse thirsted to take his head clean from his body, but suguru twistedâa last-second leap sideways, and offered only the clasp of his hair. it snapped free under vile claws, and you saw the voluminous river of his hair unfurling in the air around him, shining like spilled ink.
you had never seen his hair unbound before. it was always restrained, a tight man bun at his crown, or that same severe knot with a few dark strands framing the glorious architecture of his face.
with his hair down, he looked almost like an emperor's favorite concubine, kept in the finest silks and soft beddings, waiting to be fed sweetmeats by royal hands, and bred by the emperor himself. to grow round and glowy as a child swelled inside him, a dreamy smile forming on his lips as he cradled his belly. you could almost see it, the way his hips would widen, they way his breasts would get heavier and more tender, complaining about his aching foot and the baby kicking at 4 a.m.
meanwhile, back in present, suguru summoned his rainbow dragon, sending it forth without much thought, impelling the curse to die in less than a second. the dragon returned to his side, floating around like a dog expecting praise from its owner.
you mumbled half-heartedly âsomething like "you have a beatiful face with your hair down... you'd look pretty if you were pregnant"â and the horror of your sentence left suguru's mouth agape. he could only stare at you, his usual assesing eyes now blown wide as a startled fawn's. then, he rapidly turned his head away, his tan cheeks blooming a faint red out of embarrassment. "what the hell...?"
all the while, the rainbow dragon hovered there, watching him with all the confusion a curse like it could possibly muster, it's iridescent head tilting as if to ask, what strange human magic is this?
âthere was nothing better than having an entire day dedicated just self care and recuperating for the next week. quite frankly you had been through enough stress to send a victorian child into a coma.
the entire day was merely spent on you binge watching a new show, and lazing around. a rare moment of relaxation in your fast-paced life. now was time for the fun part.
you turn up your music, adding more bubble bath to the tub and sinking further and further in like a rock being thrown into the sea. you spent a good two hours bathing yourself and washing your hair.
âyou step out of your bathroom smelling like your favourite lotion and feeling squeaky clean as you plop down onto your vanity chair, an array of nail polishes to choose from, a uv lamp and a nail file to the side.
âhumming to yourself as you file the surface of your nails
"you started without me, didn't you?" gojo burst through the door, his clothing slightly frazzled from all the running he did to reach you in time.
"welcome home to you too, toru. is there any reason why you'd burst through my door like you're category five tornado?" you raise a brow, your tone unamused by the loud noise he brought with him.
â "sorry, sweets."
â"uhuh, hurry up and go change, i didn't start without you."
âa small ritual you two had participated in for the duration of your relationship had been a weekly manicure session while watching any new trashy reality tv shows.
âit had all started with satoru wanting you to paint his nails then it spiralled into what it is today.
âat first satoru did receive a bit of teasing from his colleagues for wearing nail polish, but he didn't care, why would he when he was matching with you?
âsatoru plopped beside you, adorned in the matching strawberry pyjama pants you got for him. he grabs a remote searching through a hoard of shows.
"really? temptation island?"
â"what? we didn't finish the season, plus I want to know if brion ended up single or not." he pouts, your hand gently covering his nail in black nail polish.
âyou let out an amused sigh as you watch the recap of the recent episode. the two of you fade into a comfortable silence with an occasional commentary session regarding the events of the show.
âsimply lazing around with satoru would always be the highlight of your week.
a/n: highkey procrastinating on studying for my exams tmrđ„čâïž
