#ijichi

I've got you

Masterlist Here

Synopsis: Whilst completing a mission with your oldest friend, you were a little out of sorts than your usual self. It was only after you placed the veil around the abandoned building did it fully hit you as to why. Braced up against the cool side of the wall, all you could do was cry out for help only to find it in the man you loved completely.

Word count: 3,400+

Warnings: Kiyotaka Ijichi x afab!reader, Alpha!Ijichi x Omega!reader, mdni, 18+, NSFW, smut, knotting, sub!reader, begging, crying, masturbating (reader), car sex (backseat), inappropriate use of seatbelts, cumming, breeding (mildly mentioned), porn with plot, omegaverse, love confession, requited love, friends to lovers.

Notes: This is a part of an ongoing series of trades with my dear friend @loganwritesprobably. This is the omegaverse x reader trade! First time writing for Ijichi!

“Back in the nineties, I was in a very famous TV show…”

One of your arms hangs out of the car’s window as you hum random song intros to yourself. It’s only the start of the school year, so it’s still warm enough for you to have the window down without anyone complaining about the temperature. You press your nose into your shoulder, watching the world with half your face covered. It almost looks like you’re sulking.

“I’m Bojack, the Horseman, Bojack the…”

It’s a miracle Nanami hasn’t said anything yet. Glancing to your left, you can see the blond man immersed in paperwork, even during a break.

He’s wearing the usual shirt and funky tie combo, hair slicked back, and somehow, the strands don’t have that dry shine you dislike so much.

“How was your weekend?”

Your quiet, melodic mumbling is interrupted by Nanami’s question. It’s a loaded one, and yet, the man’s voice is completely calm, as if the answer were something as normal as “I took time to relax” or “I went out for ice cream.”

It’s not. More like “I cried in front of five adults as I was interrogated with a needle held to my eye.” More like “Every weekend is a small trauma that dehumanizes me further into a curse.” More like “My weekend was horrible.”

You rub your forehead against the inside of your arm.

“Good. Watched some interesting movies,” you make sure to keep your tone even and conveniently leave out the part that you were with Ino. With Nanami, it’s hard to know where you stand, and you don’t want to cause trouble. “How was yours?”

Nanami doesn’t look up from his paperwork immediately. The steady scratch of pen on paper fills the brief silence between you, almost like he’s giving your answer time to settle, testing it for cracks.

“Uneventful,” he replies at last. “Which is preferable.”

There’s a pause.

“What did you watch?”

It’s too casual of a question for Nanami. Small talk is never his thing unless it’s strategic. He thinks you’re lying and is digging for details that would make you slip up. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t lying about the movie.

“…Wasabi,” you admit shamefully and turn your gaze back toward the parking lot. There aren’t many cars around, but every now and then, someone arrives. A group of waiters sit around near the backside of the mall. Thin smoke curls around their fingers as they talk to each other.

Nanami looks up. “Did you choose that one?”

Shit.

“Uhh…” The truth is, Wasabi is not something you’d watch voluntarily. Ino wanted to let you pick something but quickly realized you’d go for something depressing or hard to digest, so he insisted on light entertainment. “…Ino. Ino did.”

Nanami hums before turning a page in his neat little binder. His hums can be unnerving. He doesn’t speak much, but the little sounds can say a lot about his mood. There are the bored hums, the quick ones that suggest his piqued interest, or, like in this instance, the skeptical ones.

“He’s a good kid.”

Nanami doesn’t need to tell you that twice. You know that. Half the time, that’s all you can think about: that he’s good and you’re bad. You have always been a curse, in your opinion, even before the transformation the potential was always there.

Looking down at the puddle beside the car, you can make out your distorted reflection. Your face is barely visible; that’s supposed to stay that way. You don’t really go out into public anymore. The reason why you stayed with Nanami in the car is that the mall is full of people. The sight of you might disturb them.

Weird limbs, a cloudy eye, a creepy posture, plus some parts of you aren’t even visible to non-sorcerers.

What an unlovable thing you have become.

With you looking like that, Ino is basically an angel in contrast. He deserves better friends. No need to rub that under your nose.

“I know that.”

Everyone knows Nanami cares about Ino and vice versa. Whereas you, you’re all on your own. Well, you used to be more of Gojo’s girl student, but ever since the evaluations started, he’s become pretty fucking terrifying. That’s a thought worth exploring another time, though. (That time will never come; you don’t question sensei. You accept his hostility. But keep telling yourself that you’ll eventually stand up for yourself.)

Anyways, Nanami is right to be protective of Ino.

“We just watched movies,” you add after a beat. Little waves appear on the water’s surface as the wind picks up. It carries over the faint smell of cigarette smoke from the group of waiters, so you quickly pull your arm in and close the window.

“Wasn’t implying otherwise.” Nanami continues scribbling down things without looking up. He doesn’t seem to be in a straightforward mood.

You wonder if he’s heard of the incident. On one hand, mentioning it to him could earn you some of his trust, on the other, you’d be telling on Gojo. Kind of betraying him, even though he certainly isn’t even on your side. And still, it would feel wrong.

You’re thinking too hard.

“Bojack, the Horseman…”

You stare down at your lap, where your hands rest now. Fingernails clean and taken care of with little band-aids. Ino’s efforts. Cute Hello Kitty-themed pieces of sticky plasters wrapped around your fingertips each morning until the skin and fingerbeds heal. He took his time with it. Now you really can’t scratch any type of hard surface, lest you ruin your classmate’s hard work.

“Bojack the Horseman, don’t act like you don’t know…”

The last words turn into incoherent hums. For a while, your quiet voice fills the car.

The front is empty, Ino and Ijichi have gone to the mall’s food court to get drinks. Three coffees, one boba. It has been fifteen minutes.

“May I speak freely?”

Uh-oh. That question is usually followed by something rude or uncomfortable, or it’s just a straight-up call-out. You tilt your head slightly toward Nanami but remain mostly hunched against the car’s door.

“Okay.”

The pen stills, and the man turns toward you politely. Having all his attention is a little off-putting, not to mention you don’t have anywhere to escape in the backseat of Ijichi’s car.

“It would be healthier if you were angry.”

Well, that’s a little random. You lift your head from your shoulder with furrowed brows.

“…angry at what? Why?”

The blond doesn’t reply. He just keeps looking at you meaningfully, like he knows you know what he means or you’ll at least get it if he keeps giving you that look. It’s peculiar how he appears to be getting more sleep than Gojo now. His sunken cheeks are still very much there, but the faint circles under his eyes are nothing compared to the Strongest’s. You’ve never seen Nanami better rested than Gojo.

In the end, it doesn’t matter what exactly Nanami is referring to, because you aren’t angry at anything, ever. That could be what he means, although you don’t see how that would make you healthier.

“I don’t have such an urge,” you reply.

“Why not?”

Now that is more like the efficient Nanami.

“I don’t take things personally.” Because I am not a person, you’d add if you were up for a little bickering. “I suppose.”

“What do you feel then?”

You bite your lip as you think about the question. It depends, really. Situations that should make you angry vary. They can range from that one first-year brat talking back to you to being hurt by people. Hakari just tires you out with the way he runs his mouth, and the other thing mostly makes you feel fear and… well, satisfaction. When you’re mistreated, you can reassure yourself that you really are below humans, and so no real damage is being done.

It’s like being a sponge that soaks up the dirt. Then someone wrings it out, and the process can be repeated. And the sponge isn’t hurt, it doesn’t feel bad because it’s just a piece of fabric with holes in it.

Being a sponge is safer at this point.

“I don’t feel much. I just think about the fact that it will pass. Besides—“ you cut yourself off when you suddenly hear footsteps approach. Soon, the two car doors open, one in the front and one at your side.

“They were out of raspberry,” Ino declares immediately, holding up a paper tray of drinks. Three brown cups and a colorful one, with a wide straw. Taking the tray from him, you scoot over into the middle, dragging your faulty leg after you. Sitting in the middle is uncomfortable for multiple reasons, but Ino already got you boba, so you’re not going to ask to sit on the side.

You hand Nanami his brown cup of coffee while Ijichi and Ino settle in their seats. “What did you choose then?”

“Dragonfruit,” Ino replies. “Was that a good choice?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, it’s fine.”

As everyone drinks their beverage of choice, Ijichi starts explaining more details about the current mission. You nurse the dragonfruit ‘tea’ in silence, eyes fixed on the diagrams that were prepared in advance, a boba pearl popping between your lips every now and then.

You’re mainly backup now, due to your inability to move freely. Cover for Ino. Don’t be a burden.

Nevertheless, Ino tries to involve you, asks your opinion about certain things, but you feel a little awkward answering them in front of Nanami. It’s become all white noise, or like the muffled music at a party you’re not invited to. Nanami must have triggered something with his initial question. You really aren’t angry. You feel neutral toward humans and villains and Gojo. Huh. Dragonfruit was a good choice though, it’s not even that soapy.

Your gaze lingers on the condensation gathering along the plastic cup, a droplet sliding down slowly until it disappears beneath your fingers. You press your thumb into it absentmindedly, smearing the cool moisture across your skin.

Ijichi shows you a point on the map, it’s where you’re going to be keeping an eye on the situation from. You nod along, already trying to visualize the area’s position in relation to yours.

It’s one of those long fucking days. Secure the location. Exorcise. Write a report. Take a break. Try not to drown. Next.

You take a slow sip of the dragonfruit drink, letting the sweetness wash over your tongue while the chewy boba sits heavy in your stomach. Nanami watches you quietly, his gaze unreadable, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s still sifting through your words from earlier, weighing them. You resist the urge to meet his eyes.

There’s another low coming, you can feel it. Typical Monday.

In the end, you survive daytime, like always. Classes continue, you do those exercises Ieri always tells you to do, you hang out with Kirara, an energetic ball of cuteness and fierce will. The first years are getting introduced to some self-defense techniques and you help the kid find correct postures. The hallways can be tense, Gojo could bump into you any time. You don’t feel so safe with him anymore, though you try to ignore that thought. Besides, you can’t show weakness in front of Kirara-chan, at least. They think you’re “like the coolest, most badass looking person ever”. If only they knew. Where’s Ino during all of this? Hopefully, hopefully, doing something useful. Well, anyways. You’re fucking drained. Time to hit the shower. The shower is safe. You can stand around in the hot water and even have an excuse to be doing nothing. It’s okay to fall apart there becaue there is no visible difference between your tears and the water from above.

What Takuma Ino really struggles to understand is that no one is asking questions.

In a manner analogous to the accumulation of cursed energy by non-sorcerers leading to the manifestation of cursed spirits in specific environments—such as hospitals and schools—an exceptionally high concentration of cursed energy may also exert a profound influence on living sorcerers.

When a sorcerer in their formative years is exposed to such an overwhelming quantity of cursed energy, the consequence may be a transformation of both body and soul, culminating in their conversion into a cursed spirit.

This phenomenon may occur as a result of negative emotions being directed toward the sorcerer, whether inadvertently or with deliberate intent. The precise mechanisms of this process, including its stages and associated symptoms, remain largely undocumented due to the scarcity of recorded cases.

“Well, that’s spectacularly unhelpful.”

There’s a big pile of printed reports around Ino, half of it spread out all over the place, half of it still neatly stacked, waiting to be read.

It frustrates him that there isn’t much research on the topic, and most of all, that no one seems to care about the root of the problem.

This phenomenon may occur as a result of negative emotions being directed toward the sorcerer, whether inadvertently or with deliberate intent.

He knows what that part is implying.

So why is no real adult stuck on this detail that Ino himself just cannot get past? You’d probably say it’s childish to be so fixated on the past. You probably like that no one cares, it proves this not-so-secret belief you have about yourself that you don’t matter that much.

Scratching his head, Ino groans out loud and faceplants into his bed. The pillow doesn’t have your scent anymore. It’s been a few days since you’ve hung out with Ino one-on-one.

He rolls onto his back, crumpling some papers under his body and decides to just bother you instead. You didn’t seem very present today. To be fair, Mondays are hard.

Before he knows it, his feet are already carrying him toward your room.

What is Ino even going to say? He doesn’t know what he wants. You opening up in general would be good, but does he deserve that?

It doesn’t matter, he’s already knocking. No sound comes from the inside of your dorm, and usually, you’re not able to be stealthy before opening the door. Ino politely knocks again and waits, with no answer. The door doesn’t move.

“Hello? Are you in there?”

…

“I’m coming in,” your classmate warns and twists the doorknob. Or he would, if it were open. True to the instincts of a young man with too much strength and too little brain, Ino rattles the door just to make sure it really is locked. It is.

Right, maybe you’re having a late second dinner in the kitchen.

Ino wanders around in the students’ dorm, exploring the premises, with no luck. Every room is dark, no light is on anymore. Finally, he arrives at the one place he hasn’t checked yet.

It’s an area that he, as a guy, is supposed to avoid, but Ino is getting gradually worried. It’s not the best sign that the lights of the girls’ bathroom seem to be out too, and there isn’t any water running either. With any luck (or misfortune, depends on how one wants to look at it), that place is empty too, and he can start actually calling you on your phone instead of looking for you like a maniac.

“Seriously…” Ino mutters to himself. This little game isn’t good for his nerves. “I’m going to come in, it’s an emergency, anyone inside better not be naked!”

The echo of those words in the hallway is louder than anticipated, and a low, quiet curse follows immediately.

Whatever, Ino is trespassing in the ladies’ territory now.

The door opens, and when he steps in, faint steam hits him in the face. Someone has showered a little while ago, then. Water drips in one of the stalls, but it’s hard to make out anything concrete in the dim light, which passes through the narrow windows placed at the top of the wall.

Not having any idea where the light switch is and not wanting to start feeling around on the surfaces, he decides to just use his phone as a source of light instead.

The moment light shines from around him, he jumps at the sight of someone curled up against one of the lockers.

“Fuck—“

The phone almost flies out of his hand, and he debates activating his cursed energy out of instinct.

You don’t move. You don’t even react.

“Jesus, you scared the living shit out of me,” Ino breathes out a huff of air. “What are you doing here?”

You stay still and quiet, which prompts Ino to approach you. The flashlight-turned phone allows him to make out some things about you: you’re breathing (although Ino isn’t sure why he was worried about that), you’re wearing clothes (thank God), and your hair hangs into your face, obstructing the view.

“Hey…”

Slowly, Ino lowers himself to the ground. He kneels at your side and reaches out to tuck your hair aside.

Your eyes are open, and judging by the way your pupils shrink at the light and roll to have eye contact, you must be aware of your surroundings. It’s just that you’re weirdly passive.

The phone is tilted away from your face a little, dimming the light with his thumb so it won’t stab at your eye. Ino’s brows knit together the longer you don’t say anything.

Finally, your gaze unfocuses and then focuses again.

“‘Kuma…” you choke out quietly, your voice still loud like that in the tense silence.

“Yeah, it’s me. What’s going on?” Ino tries not to hang up on the fact that you’ve used a nickname for him. In any other situation, he’d be flustered, but something tells him that your sudden vulnerability isn’t a good thing. “How long have you been in here?”

The clothes you wear are soft: a t-shirt with short sleeves and sweatpants. So, you’ve already showered and put on your sleeping set.

“‘Kuma… you’re so nice to me…”

You mewl those words so softly, your speech almost slurred. Then your body starts leaning forward more and more until Ino realizes you’re slumping, and he has to shift closer so you can lean against him.

“Are you on something? You gotta tell me if you are,” Ino says, barely able to keep the panic out of his voice.

You only shake your head in response, the movement turns into your rubbing your face against Ino’s arm, and then gradually, you end up nuzzling your face in his chest. “M’sorry… ’m corrupting you.”

Your silly statement makes Ino let out a breath of relief. If you can still insist on these nonsense beliefs of yours, then whatever is happening isn’t that bad.

“No, we’ve talked about that.” One hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, the other settles on your back, avoiding your hips. “Please just tell me what’s going on.”

You shake your head again. “Dunno. I was just thinking and… I don’t wanna move. Wanna stay in the dark forever.”

“We can stay for a bit, but not forever.”

Ino can feel how you’re trying to curl up into yourself further. Every tense muscle of yours wants to reject that proposal, and your friend can only try to massage that rejection out of your flesh.

“Did you remember something?” he asks quietly as his hands start working out the tension of your back. He mostly touches your sides and near the length of your spine. It’s the first time he dares to address your past so openly. It feels exactly like trying to feed a hostile but hungry stray kitten. Only that instead of food, Ino is giving you what, affection or just his non-judgmental attention.

Your body jerks ever so slightly into his lap, and a little sound that sounds a lot like a sniffle escapes you.

Did he mess up…?

“Oh…I, yeah, that…that might be it…” you reply, nodding your head slightly. You’re opening up a bit, so maybe your sniffling is a good sign. You feel safe enough to fall apart right in front of him. It’s not like when the emotions are forced out of you and you have no choice but to let it happen. It’s not an interrogation. “I didn’t like it.”

That’s all the comment you have on the matter. Obviously, there is more to it than you simply not liking what had happened, but it’s easier to just say you didn’t like it. It’s not a lie anyway. Just a very basic way of describing all the negative emotions you must have felt.

“I didn’t like it at all. Didn’t like it.”

“You didn’t like it,” Ino repeats firmly, like the more emphasis those words have, the easier it will be for you to carry the weight.

“So tired of everything…”

Your body goes completely limp against Ino’s as he works out the tension of your neck next. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. One of his hands trails lower between your shoulder blades, encouraging you to completely let go.

“You’re still the strongest person I know,” he says finally.

“…don’t wanna be strong. Want a break. I wish…”

“Mh?”

You fall silent. Ino’s hand comes up to your jawline and rubs at the sharp bone, as if coaxing you to keep your mouth moving, to keep you talking. “C’mon, you can tell me.”

It works. Your jaw relaxes, though the words come out too quietly and slowly now. “I… wish I was important even if I was useless…”

Ino’s thumb stops working right under your ear, where your jaw merges with your skull. “What else?”

“Wish… everyone would just… let me be. I don’t need to be loved. Or tolerated even. Just wanna exist without being hurt. I won’t bother anyone.”

“What you’re saying right now is hard to hear.”

“Oh, so—“

“No, no.” Ino cuts you off before you can apologize. The pad of his thumb travels lower and then higher again, stroking your cheek gently. “It just sounds so lonely.” His forehead presses against yours, but he makes sure to keep a respectful distance from your lips. “I don’t like thinking about you like that.”

Your chest rises and falls against his in small, uneven breaths. The dim light from his phone flickers across your face, highlighting the faint redness around your eyes, the wet strands of hair clinging to your forehead.

“But it’s okay,” you reply with a breaking voice. “It’s okay, I really just want peace. Nothing else.”

Ino’s chest puffs out a bit when a strong huff leaves his lips. “Sorry, but… I want more for you.”

“It’s a lost cause. I’m already,” you sniffle again and lift your injured leg slightly. “This.”

Ino doesn’t know how to reply to that. Obviously, he doesn’t agree with your thought process at all. As long as you’re breathing, you can’t be a lost cause. It’s hard for him to understand that you don’t seem to have or want to have basic desires or needs, even though it makes some sense.

Your proximity doesn’t register the same way for him. What you’re saying makes him too sad to think about how easily he could just lean in. And it wouldn’t be the right time, not when you’re struggling.

Will there ever be a right time?

“…I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

A wet laugh escapes your lips at that. “I might fall in love with myself.”

As soon as you speak those words, Ino’s heart skips two beats, and he holds his breath back for several seconds. It’s dark, but the bathroom somehow still manages to spin and fold over upside down. Is he that obvious? Did you mean that the way Ino understood it? You can’t just acknowledge it like that. But you did. It’s totally out in the open now. All those lingering touches and that overprotectiveness and how he hangs onto every word you say when you explain something.

Time to open that can of worms.

“I—“

“I’m joking.”

Ino’s breath catches a second time, sharper now, and he has to cough a few times. Fuck. It’s like suddenly pulling the brakes, every brake, in a very fast car, which somehow is full of brakes everywhere.

“Hah,” he exhales, rubbing his temple with the back of his hand for a moment. “Yeah. Joking. Heh, funny.”

You sit there for a moment, pressed into Ino’s chest, letting the silence settle over both of you. The faint dripping from the shower stall continues somewhere in the background, a steady rhythm against the tension that’s been building all weekend.

“You’re not a lost cause,” he mutters finally, voice soft. His heart is still stuttering like the car that suddenly was forced to a stop stumbles over the potholes. Cold sweat runs down his spine. He almost fucked up. But you’re still there in his lap and you still need him, so Ino keeps it together. “I’m going to continue being ‘so nice’ to you. Is that okay? I need that to be okay.” The way the pressure changes on Ino’s chest just a little feels like you’re squeezing your eyes shut tightly, wanting to reject his wish. And then slowly, you nod, hesitantly. “Okay.” Ino knows, deep down, that you’re not entirely okay with his kindness, for several reasons. However, that’s just a non-negotiable part of being his friend. You’ll just have to get used to it.

So, I present to you the new loser in "Loser" au

*Drumroll* Usami!

He's a loser because the elders assigned him as a teacher for Naoya and Ijichi

(Now Usami is complaining to Kusakabe about these two, although he's mostly complaining about Naoya)

Ijichi x Reader

a/n: IJICHI BABES, WE ARE HERE.

Your relationship with Ijichi made sense.

If awards for couples that made the most sense existed, you and Ijichi would win them all.

He was the greyhound to your cane corso. The Sphynx to your Siamese cat. Ijichi was your devoted lover and you were his world.

You just wanted him to see his own value in every situation. Remind him that he has a say so even if everyone else disregards it. And maybe your anniversary trip could help him.

The suitcase lay half-packed on the bed, its contents a colorful jumble of folded clothes and travel essentials on top of the surprise bikini dress you’d packed for the beach.

You hummed cheerfully to yourself, holding up a sun hat and tilting your head. “What do you think, baby? Too much for the beach, or just enough to keep the mysterious wife thing up?”

Across the room, Ijichi stood awkwardly by the doorway, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. His gaze darted to you, then away, his lips parting as if to speak before closing again.

“It’s perfect,” he mumbled, though the way his fingers fidgeted with his glasses said his mind was elsewhere.

You narrowed your eyes at him, setting the hat down. “Kiyotaka,” you said in a tone that made him stand a little straighter. “You’ve been pacing like a nervous puppy for the last ten minutes. What happened today? Did someone die, or worse, did they cancel our anniversary reservation?”

He flinched. “No, no! Nothing like that!”

“Then what?”

Ijichi hesitated, his cheeks flushing. “I... um... I’ve been assigned as the lead administrator for a mission next week.”

The cheerful hum of excitement that had been buzzing in your chest came to a screeching halt. Slowly, you slipped your slippers back on and walked over to him. “Next week? As in, the week of our trip?”

He nodded, his hands wringing. “I-I didn’t say no. They said they needed someone dependable, and I—”

“Didn’t push back,” you finished for him, your tone flat. You let out a long sigh, and wrapped your arms around his next. “Honey. Do I need to come to these meetings and say ‘no’ for you?”

His shoulders slumped, and he gave you a sheepish look. “I know I worked through my day off last time but I didn’t want to let anyone down…”

You crossed your arms, giving him the look only an understanding wife could give. “Kiyotaka, I get it. You’re kind and genuinely such a pleasant guy —two of the many reasons I love you. But you’re also allowed to have a life outside of work. It’s okay to tell people no. Even me.”

“I know,” he muttered, but the doubt in his voice was as clear as day.

“Hmm,” you said, rolling up your sleeves and taking a few paces back. “Let’s roleplay.”

“Huh?”

“I’m Principal Yaga, and you’re telling me you can’t take the mission. Go.”

His eyes widened. “What? I—”

“Go!” you barked, dropping into a gruff impression of Yaga. You stroked an imaginary goatee and squinted at him. “Goddamn man! Speak up! I don’t have all day! I’ve got sunglasses to buy and cute cursed dolls to make!”

Ijichi blinked at you, flustered. “Um… excuse me, sir, but I…”

You interrupted, shaking your head dramatically while speaking in a hushed tone. “No excuses, Ijichi. You’re too valuable!”

That finally got a laugh out of him, and you couldn’t help but smile. “See? Not so scary when it’s just me,” you teased. “Now try again. Confidently, this time.”

He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.

“Principal Yaga, I appreciate the trust you’ve placed in me, but I’ve already committed to important personal plans next week. I’ll need to decline this mission but maybe ask Akari and she how she feels about taking it on.”

You broke into a grin, clapping your hands. “There it is! That’s my guy! See? You can do it!”

Ijichi looked surprised by his own success, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “You really think they’ll respect that?”

“Absolutely,” you said, stepping closer kissing his cheek then lips as he pulled you into a hug. “But if they don’t, just let me know. I’ll show up and demonstrate my cursed technique. Bet that’ll make them think twice.”

He chuckled, relaxing in your arms. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft with gratitude.

“Anytime,” you replied, squeezing him gently. “Now, let’s finish packing. You’ve got a mission to refuse and an anniversary trip to enjoy.”

👓

The sun was dipping low over the courtyard, warm orange hues painted themselves across the campus.

You were heading back from a training session with Nanami when you spotted Ijichi standing stiffly near the fountain. Across from him, Gojo Satoru leaned lazily against the edge, arms crossed and trademark grin plastered across his face.

“C’mon, Ijichi,” Gojo drawled. “You’re the only guy I can trust with this. It’s just a couple of reports, nothing too crazy. Besides, you know I’d do it myself if I weren’t so…” He gestured vaguely. “Busy.”

You could see the classic Ijichi’s polite smile from where you stood. It was the same tight-lipped expression he used when he wanted to refuse but couldn’t find the words.

“Ah, well, I suppose I could…” he started, trailing off as Gojo’s grin widened.

That was enough for you. Without thinking, you marched over, planting yourself between the two of them.

Gojo,” you almost barked, sharply, staring him down. “I think you can handle this one yourself. Ijichi has enough on his plate and he has to speak with Yaga.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh? Didn’t know the wife became the spokesperson! But come on, Ijichi’s the best man for the job! He loves this type of work!”

“Maybe,” you retorted, eyes squinting and arms crossed, “but even the best deserves a break. Right, Kiyotaka?”

Ijichi blinked, caught off guard. “I-I suppose…”

Gojo shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You’re right. I’ll ask someone else.” With a cheeky grin, he sauntered off, calling over his shoulder, “But don’t think you’ve seen the last of me!”

You turned to Ijichi, a triumphant smile on your face. “There. Problem solved.”

But instead of looking relieved, he seemed troubled, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Thank you,” he muttered, barely audible.

🍵

Later that evening back at home, dinner was quiet. Ijichi kept conversation short and even excused himself early to go to his study.

“Jichi? Honey?” You softly called out as you made your way down the hall, a cup of fresh tea in hand for him as you peered at his relaxed figure from the cracked door of his study. “Can I come in?”

He smiled and waved you in, “Come in. Just reading.” He slipped the bookmark in and sat the book down. “Is that tea for me?”

You nodded and the cup it down before leaning against his desk. “Fresh ginger tea. With a bit of mint from the garden.”

He smiled and took a sip, the warmth filling his chest as he sat it back down. “Thank you darling.”

Watching him intently, you gave a warm smile. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “About earlier… with Gojo. I know you meant well, and I appreciate you stepping in, but…” He looked up at you, his expression pained. “I don’t want people to think I can’t fend for myself.”

You frowned, guilt tugging at your chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He saw you thumbing with the edge of his desk and stood up, bringing his hands to your waist. “I’m just really not a big fan of seeing people take advantage of you.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But sometimes I need to handle things on my own, even if I mess up sometimes.” His gentle disposition was the sweetest. A level headed man even when he was feeling bogged. “Gojo can be a lot and you were right, I didn’t have the capacity for the work he was trying to pass on to me. But I would’ve figured it out.”

You nodded, rubbing up and down his forearms as you looked to see his unperturbed face. “You’re right. From now on, I’ll let you decide when and if you need me to step in. But if it ever gets too much…”

“I’ll tell you,” he finished, offering a small smile. “I appreciate that you care so much for me. You are my life. And knowing I have you in my corner is enough to make me speak up more. So when I need you, I’ll tell you..”

“Deal?” you asked, holding out your pinky.

He chuckled, linking his pinky with yours. “Deal.”

A playful grin spread across your face. “But you’ve got to admit, I rattled Gojo pretty well.”

Ijichi laughed, his cheeks flushing. “You did. Honestly, I think he’s a little scared of you now.”

“As he should be,” you said proudly, resting your chin on his shoulder as he swayed you for a moment. “But don’t worry—I’ll save my scary side for when you really need it.”

He smiled against the top of your head, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your crown. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably have a lot less drama in your life,” you teased, earning another laugh.

“You make things more lively. I’d be a lost man without it.”

“people who celebrate fictional character birthdays are annoying pass it on”