your first day of university was shit, to put it bluntly. too many people, too few friends, professors that you can already tell would be the bane of your existence for the semester, and to top it all of you received homework. on the first day. dozens of textbook questions awaited you, from all sorts of random ass classes. (seriously, how the hell did they manage to assign 20 textbook questions from an underwater basket weaving course? you’d only taken it because it sounded so ridiculous you thought you could just treat it as a spare period!)

safe to say, this semester was going to be hell. you’d resigned yourself to the library for the entire afternoon, going over every topic from microbiology to leo tolstoy to the most malleable waterproof fiber. but what really had you stuck in the library for so long was astrophysics. it was the most confusing shit you’ve ever seen, you think you’ve fallen asleep at least four times while trying to read the first page of primordial black holes—a concept.

just as you were about to call it a night and accept your fate of failing physics, you spot a boy in the corner of the library. and he was reading one of your favourite books of all time. and by the looks of it, he didnt seem to be enjoying it very much. 

with too much caffeine in your system and too little shits to give you approach him.

“hey! is someone sitting here?” you ask as politely as possible.

. . .

he doesn't even bother to glance at you as waves his hand a bit. you narrowed your eyes in annoyance. was that an invitation to sit down or a silent way of saying fuck off? either way you simply sat. by his reaction you could tell his intention was the latter. 

okay, rude much? is this guy an asshole or does he just have 0 social skills?

“um. can i help yo-” he starts, his gaze sweeps over you and and his eyes widen, his mouth shuts closed when he sees the textbook you’re carrying, his expression suddenly brightening.

“primordial black holes?! no way! someone else is interested in them! they’re so cool, the way their density fluctuates but the fact they could be completely hypothetical-” 

you snort, slightly guilty to confess, “yeah, um, i don't mean to disappoint, but i don't really understand shit about them. it’s for a class.” and you feel a little pang in your heart when you see his expression sink, 

“what about that book though!” you quickly recover “its short but its such an amazing classic. had me sobbing for a good hour-” but now its his turn to cut you off

“i, um, don't really understand anything about it either." he quips back, still deflated from the knowledge that they started teaching one of his passion subjects just as homework, “it feels more like riddles than dialogue. im also just reading it for a class”

okay, touché. mr. asshole.

“well it gets better as you go along, i promise” you try to explain, you’ve seen too many people drop this literary masterpiece because the beginning was too ‘challenging to understand’ seriously, has the quality of literature really gone so down these days that people can't even recognize a few metaphors?

satoru doubted that it would, but he just started the semester, and he had zero friends. so he decided to at least try and make you hate him a little less, since he’s aware he came off as a total douche

“what if i explain primordial black holes to you, and in return you translate the dreamer’s backstory into normal english” he thought it was a pretty good plan, more of a gamble than an actual transaction, but he wasn’t picky.

to be honest, he just really wanted to nerd out about his passion. knowing that you were on the cusp of one of the most exciting concepts of mankind but not pulling through with it was something he had to make sure didn't happen. nobody would ever listen to him for more than 5 minutes at a time when he started talking physics, but you didn't really have a choice, did you?

“y’know what? fine. ill make you realize how much of a masterpiece this book is.”

“and ill make you realize how cool black holes are.”

“fine then.” “fine.”

and from there, your purely academic transactional friendship blossomed. he explained physics in such a way that it felt more like a story or a beautiful novel rather than real concepts, and you explained heavy literature in a way that totally engaged him. he even bought a collector’s copy of white nights to frame on his dorm shelf. 

as the weeks progressed, you two grew into even closer friends, you both had underwater basket weaving together (finally that class is good for something) and you had the same spare period. you two would usually spend afternoons together teaching each other english or physics respectively, or mutually struggle with how to create the perfect plait, twine, and coil for good quality baskets, which was strangely a lot harder than it sounded, you were learning to respect underwater basket weavers more and more by the day. the fact that they could go through this hell and still manage to find their passion in it was astounding to you.

when you came back to him one day with an A on your physics assignment, he was so overjoyed that—ignoring the fact he was in a cramped library—he picked you up and spun you around, getting you guys kicked out for accidentally knocking down a shelf of books (it’s not like anybody read those ones anyway! who even reads narcissistic autobiographies dressed as ‘self-help’ books? yet the librarian wasn't buying into your defense, and threatened to blacklist you guys from the library if you didn’t leave)

satoru was laughing all the way back to the dorm rooms that day, you couldn't tell if he was so giddy about you acing a physics assignment because of him or because you and the librarian were going back and forth for a solid ten minutes. either way, it was worth it, you loved seeing him so carefree like this. he used to be so stuck-up and stoic, but seeing him come out of his shell over time and feel comfortable enough to laugh with you made your chest feel warm.

over time, you could easily establish that satoru’s love language was gift-giving. he would always buy you coffee before your library study times. it was ridiculous, really. the coffee was insanely expensive and he would go out of his way to add toppings as well.

he started out the whole tradition with vowing to get you every drink on the menu until he found your favourite. you’d insisted that he didnt have to get you anything from that overpriced coffee shop and you were more than satisfied with your homemade coffee, but he wouldn't have any of it. after two weeks of trial, he’d finally established that french vanilla lattes with extra sugar were your favourite (to his delight, as he loved sweets, and would always steal sips from your drinks) and would bring it to you every day on your spare period, despite the fact that it cost a solid $8. 

he would often get you little trinkets or souvenirs every now and then. he missed a day of studying together? he’d come back the next with a handwritten apology note and a little jellycat keychain, the one that you’ve kept dangling on your backpack because you really loved it. and how a gentle smile would grace his face every time he saw it on your backpack.

he bought you a little spaceship pencil and matching eraser from when he went to the NASA space center for a course trip, and you’ve been using them ever since. 

but what really touched your heart was when he went on a trip to europe, as he got you beautiful special edition copies of a few of your favourite books from the livraria lello, you were so happy that you burst out crying—much to his panic.

he thinks that the day he realized he really fell for you was when he took you out to a concert of your favourite artist. when he told you he bought the tickets, you screamed so hard he didn't think his ear drums would ever recover. and he wouldn't have it any other way. you were so beautiful to him, singing your heart out to your favourite artist and bursting into tears in the middle of your favourite song. he’d been practically ready to cry himself, the pain in his chest was excruciating, he’d never felt this way before.

he’d never impulsively bought so much stuff for someone before despite the fact that he was a broke college student. he’d never purposely humiliate himself to make another person laugh until their stomach hurt before. he’d never cheer up instantly at just the thought of a person before. he’d never put himself through torturous hours of reading unintelligible literature to see someone’s face brighten up before. and at the end of the day, it was you who had brought out all of that in him, and he’d only realized that while hearing you screech out the lyrics to your favourite song. what an idiot i am.

he’d never seen himself as an [artistname] fan ever, but after that concert, just their association to you was enough to make them his favourite too.

by the time exams rolled around, you were both in academic weapon mode, sitting side by side for hours without a word uttered, simply focused on studying. you loved it though, the intimate environment, the reassurance of someone facing the same daunting task as you, and having them willing to help out where you struggled, it was comforting.

during the exam, you never thought you’d been so nervous in your life. prior, every subject was fine except for astrophysics, which was why satoru devoted so much of his time to tutoring you. mid-exam, the full anxiety hit. your leg was bouncing up and down so fast it couldve compared to gamma ray frequencies, you were chewing the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted metal. this anxiety that overtook you was so painful that you considered leaving and just failing the exam. but at the thought of failing, your stomach churned anew. your face paled and you were on the cusp of hyperventilating...

your eyes darted around frantically, but suddenly you were snapped out of your trance when you saw the spaceship-themed pencil in your hand, and the ivory-haired boy sitting a couple rows down who had given it to you.

focus, y/n, remember everything he taught you. just breathe.

satoru spotted you in his peripheral vision, and glanced up when he saw you shaking. when he saw your pale, panicked face staring down at your paper, he almost stood up and abandoned his exam right then and there just to comfort you. what he was already doing was dangerous enough, as in this prestigious of a school, just looking at you was enough to get him flagged for cheating, but satoru couldnt give a flying fuck about his exam right now, not when you were sitting there looking so shaken.

come on, my strong girl, i dont need you to remember everything i taught you right now, i just need you to breathe.

you both locked eyes, and a small, comforting smile graced his face. a strange calm washed over you. how does he have this kind of effect on you? you cant remember the last then when anyone else has made you feel so safe. you take a deep breath and calm your mind. you couldn't give up on this exam now, you couldn't let your combined hard work go to waste. you needed to pass this exam, if not for you, then for him.

upon seeing the determined look on your face, satoru’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he was able to finish the rest of the exam with no difficulty. after you two left the exam hall he insisted on taking you out for the rest of the day. you two ended up going to a random sushi restaurant and eating away the lingering stress, then going back to your place to watch movies and eat ice cream.

it was the little things like this that you cherished so much about satoru. he saw you. he would take you to a sushi restaurant that he knew you loved, would buy your favourite ice cream, and pick out the movies you wanted to watch. despite your constant nagging for him to be selfish just once and pick a movie he wants, he always insisted that ‘i’m happy if youre happy’

when you two got your exam marks back, you were too nervous to even open the package, instead letting satoru look at it first and deciding whether or not you should be concerned based on his reaction.

“you sure, y/n? this feels like an invasion of privac—”

“just open the damn letter, satoru.”

he huffed out a sigh and muttered something about so bossy while unfolding the page, skimming over it to find your grade. you held your breath so hard you felt lightheaded. you saw the quirk of his eyebrows when he finally found your grades

...

he slowly looks and stares at you with as stoic of an expression as he could muster, and when you finally feel like you're going to burst into tears from the anticipation, his face lights up in happiness, an 'i told you so' laugh bubbling from his chest.

“cmon, you have to look at this, y/n! you did incredible! probably better than me!”

“what?!? give me that shit!”

you grabbed the paper out of his hand and skimmed over it.

. . .

Astrophysics Final Cumulative — 89%

you practically jumped out of your skin.

“oh-oh my God! satoru! this is insane??” you squeal.

you’re so ecstatic you don't even realize you’re jumping on him for a bear hug, the intimacy of it lost on you with the excitement 

“this is all because of you, yknow that? thank you so much, toru! you’re such a lifesaver!

the intimacy, however, was definitely not lost on him. he felt a flush rising to the tips of his ears from the praise. he wasn't even going to begin to think about the nickname you’d picked for him—he’d go insane. his arms hung loosely by his side for a second but then slowly found themselves supporting your weight off the ground. 

“what are you talking about?” he laughs breathlessly, “y/n this was all because of your hard work, not me. i knew you would do amazing, my smart girl.” he was so proud he couldn't even describe it, even if he flunked all his exams now it wouldn't matter to him anymore, nothing could ruin this moment for him.

the hours of satoru drilling equations in your head paid off! to be honest before opening your grade package you were more scared of letting him down than failing the course and having to retake it, but it all ended out okay. 

satoru ended with a 100 in astrophysics (obviously), and much to your annoyance he got a 96 on his english final, and then proceeded to brag to your face for hours as you had only received a 92 and you’d taught him literally everything he knew.

the day after the results came out, you two received your schedules for the new semester, to fortunately find out that you two shared almost every class! not that the workload would be easier, you already had an essay due for “ethical hacking,” a course satoru had convinced you to take, as it was just “coding but for polite people.” the only class you two differed was him taking advanced astrophysics and astronomy (yuck??) and you instead took classic literature as an art.

he invited you over that day, texted you saying how there were "urgent matters to be attended to,” yeah right, he probably just wanted to show off another long ass physics problem that he’d finished before anyone in his class. 

regardless, you still ended up getting dressed to go over anyway, why? you didn't know, neither would you admit it to yourself. 

after a while you show up at the door to his dorm, he took a solid minute to answer, despite you telling him that you’d be over in 5

30 seconds.. 

45 seconds..

“y/n! you’re here” he exclaims breathlessly with a shit-eating grin on face, “come inside! like right now! i wanna show you something!”

"did usain fucking bolt chase you to the door? why are you so out of breath?"

"it's nice to see you too" he quips back, unbothered

your lips quirk up and you huff, letting him drag you inside like a giddy child. his bedroom is dark, with the curtains drawn and a lazy fluorescent glow coming from the moon outside, illuminating the small space. his messy white hair and gray, worn out digimon hoodie doing nothing to stand out from the literal geek-fest that was satoru gojo's dorm room.

“well, what is it satoru? y'know i have a project due, like, next week that i should really be writing up right now-” 

he flicks on the light switch.

you freeze.

the sight before you is gentle and unimaginable. soft stars, ethereal in their beauty, slowly spinning around the room. you marvel at the sight around you, a makeshift planetarium, all of the planets of the solar system and more shining like crystals. it takes a solid minute before you can conjure up any words.

“cool, isn't it?” satoru asks excitedly, “i made it myself! d’ya like it??” 

you stare at him wordlessly, like it? like it? you've never seen something like it in your mouth. a strangled gasp leaves you before you laugh breathlessly 

“wow.. toru…” you choke out "how—? when—?"

he smiles so hard you think you can see your reflection in the whites of his teeth. 

“come stargaze with me” he says gently, patting a spot on the ground beside him, beckoning you to sit. there’s snacks lazily strewn all across the room. kitkat wrappers, sugary energy drinks, and an unopened pack of your favourite sour skittles, the one he definitely wont tell you he was saving just for you despite them being his favourite candy too. he notices your eyes catching on it and grabs it, looking away while he passing it to you. if you didn’t know better you’d say he looked.. nervous, right now.

“its so beautiful satoru, really” you assure him, noticing his anxiety. his lips quirk up into a soft smile and you can feel his head tilt towards you, white hair whispering against the blankets thrown across the floor. he hums, and his voice is soft, stripped of all its usual stoicness

“arent they?” he murmurs, eyes tracing the star clusters with uncanny focus, “the real stars fit together so perfectly, like puzzle pieces..”

the room suddenly feels close, intimate. your arm brushes his, and his warm, solid presence makes something in your gut clench. satoru points above you somewhere on his star map, fingers tracing invisible lines across the ceiling, “thats capella, the most luminous star in auriga.”

"whats auriga?"

"you're telling me you got an A on your physics exam and you don't even know what auriga is? i knew you must've cheated" he quips.

"whatever, i forgot all that shit the second i left the exam hall."

"it might 'just be an exam' to you, but to me, it's everything." he murmurs, so earnestly that you can't help but glance over at him

his voice is barely above a whisper now, his gaze still distant like he can see something you can’t.

you see his lips tilt up into a lazy smile, a quiet sense of pride in it “yknow, i bought the projector, spent weeks messing around with it ‘till i got it just right, and just now does it feel like i finally completed it."

he doesn't say why, he doesn't need to, but your thoughts fill in the gaps anyway. a makeshift planetarium in the middle of exams. late nights, dark circles under his eyes, hair always a mess, coffee-stained sleeves.

“has anyone seen it in action before this?” you ask hesitantly, would that sound too possessive, oh no, you didn't want to give him the impression that only you were good enough to see it and—what the hell? since when did you overthink your interactions with satoru so much?? these stupid stars must be doing some physics shit to your brain.

“nah” he hums, “you’re the only person ive asked” he remarks casually, so casually that you don't see the way his shoulders tense when you scrutinize him. before you could comment on it, he switches the subject again, adding abruptly,

“yknow what lyra means?”

“nope, what's it mean?”

“lyra,” he says, turning back to the ceiling, “was a harpist. for the greek god orpheus.”

he points a finger up at the constellation, tracing its lines like he could play a melody across them.

“some say she became the constellation when she died. so she could be his muse forever”

his voice was quiet, almost reverent, and the words hung in the air. something in the way he speaks makes your heart flutter, he seemed so passionate about this. where he was all math and stars, you were all literature and art. yet it didn't matter, the way he explained things made it feel like you’ve known this information your whole life.

he continues to ramble on about greek mythology and their correlation to the night sky, meanwhile you just lay on your stomach with your head resting on your hands and your feet casually kicking back and forth, tossing skittles into your mouth as he talks about orion and the pleiades. this goes on for the better portion of a half hour. 

as he talks you focus more on him than his words. his bright cheerful eyes that you've only seen glimmer like then when he speaks of the night, his arms gesticulating wildly, as if he were to draw out the information from the world with his hands alone. he tells you about star clusters and binary systems, ancient constellations and the stories behind them. he points at the stars, tracing them with long, pale fingers, like he’s the one who hung them up in the heavens. 

you listen attentively to him while toying with the jellycat keychain on your backpack, but you can’t look away from him for longer than a few seconds because his enthusiasm is nearly contagious; he’s so invested, so utterly passionate even if you don't quite grasp most of the concepts. when he finally gets to a point where he’s run out of things to say, he freezes. realizing that he’s just been talking your ear off for a good 30 minutes.

“god, i'm so sorry, i didnt mean to bore you. i-i talk too much i know-” he starts frantically.

you cut him off, shaking your head, “nah” you say softly, shifting closer without realizing it. he’s warm, radiating heat like a living furnace, and you have to resist the urge to press even closer. “i like listening.”

he hums, laying his head back and tilting it up just slightly to look at you, “most people zone out after a couple minutes” he says with a tired laugh, fingers picking absently at a loose thread on the blanket.

“well most people are morons, you told me that yourself” you counter back, earning a tired snicker from him.

satoru lets out a sigh, closing his eyes momentarily. he seems more vulnerable this way, less like the untouchable genius and more like a weary young man who’s been running on too much caffeine and not enough sleep.

“y’know,” he murmurs, “sometimes i wonder if any of this is even worth it. with astronomy and everything”

his voice is soft but flat, devoid of cockiness. its a rare moment of vulnerability, and you want to hold it gently in your palms and never let it go.

“it is,” you find yourself chiding softly, “the stars, the theories, the knowledge… it’s brilliant. you are brilliant.”

he opens his eyes again, turning his head to look at you with an expression you can't quite read. his face is closer now, only inches away. you can count the freckles on his nose bridge if you tried to.

for a moment, you think you see a flash of insecurity in his eyes, a hint of something raw and unguarded. but then its gone, replaced with his usual lazy grin.

“flattery, huh?” he quips, and there's a teasing edge to his tone, "didn't think it was your style.”

you roll your eyes, swatting his arm playfully, “oh, shut up.”

he doesn't move away—just lets you swat him, his grin widening, alive and brilliant. There's something undeniably alive in the way he looks at you now, a childishness only you could bring out of him

“yeah? make me then.” satoru challenges lowly, almost absentmindedly, voice laced with amusement. his fingers twitch against the blanket like he’s restraining himself from reaching out

oh.

oh?

the air between you two is thick with something unspoken and electric. you can feel your heartbeat thudding loud enough to drown out the hum of the projector above you both. satoru firmly presses a pillow to his chest to make sure the sound of his head racing wouldn't be audible—as if that would do any help.

upon realizing your silence, he suddenly backtracks. satoru’s expression shifts from smug to surprised when he realizes the implications of his own words. a hint of red tinges his cheeks and the tips of his ears, an unfamiliar sight, and it's kind of adorable how such a simple statement could throw him off. a prodigy, a teenager who recreated the galaxy in his dorm bedroom just to impress you, and yet he’s thrown off by the implication of kissing you.

he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure, but his gaze keeps flickering to your lips—just brief, fleeting glances that betray his sudden unease.

“i-i didn't mean-i don't want-” he starts, but you’re already grinning in anticipation

“oh, i think you did.”

fuck. 

satoru’s entire face flushes—a rare, glorious sight. his usually effortless composure cracks like thin use under the weight of his own thoughts. he uses his knuckle to push his glasses back up his nose, and chews the inside of his cheek nervously.

he opens and closes his mouth twice before letting out a strangled noise. “i—that was not what i meant.”

shit, he thinks, if she keeps looking at me like that, i wont be able to survive it.

you lean towards him. and his glasses slide back down his nose slightly as he jerks back, but there is no real escape now. you’ve got him cornered between blankets and your smug little grin. the stars above you both don't move fast enough to hide the disaster in progress.

“oh?” you laugh, enjoying this moment of docility from him. seeing satoru so flustered, so taken aback by his own slip-up, sparks a kind of perverse joy within you. you shift closer, leaning in until your faces are mere inches apart. you can smell his shampoo, can see every fleck of color in his irises. you wonder if he can feel your breath of his chin. 

“then what did you mean?” you murmur, the question laced with a teasing challenge.

satoru swallows repeatedly, a flush on his cheeks spreading to the tips of his ears. he looks away and fidgets with the ridiculous jellycat keychain that he’d bought you attached to your backpack. if i knew you liked stuffed animals so much, i would've bought you more he thinks absentmindedly

he’s never been this flustered, always holding his own—in a conversation, in a room—hell, he’s talked to some of the most advanced rocket scientists in the world without floundering as helplessly as he is now. you look beautiful smug, so unbearably pleased with yourself, and he should be annoyed, he really should.

but that's not what he’s feeling right now.

“i just-” he stutters, trying and failing to come up with a believable excuse, he completely blanks, failing to find anything to deny what his heart so yearns for at this moment. with a sigh, he breathes out,

“i just really, really want to kiss you right now.” shit, shit, shit!

…

you freeze, the sudden burst of blunt honesty catching you off-guard. you’d been ready for his denial, excuses, even more flustered deflection. this was a game you got used to, pushing him into a corner and watching him justify his way out of it, a memorized dance. not this raw, unfiltered confession.

for a moment, you just stare at him, your heart doing somersaults in your chest. you can see the flicker of panic in his eyes, like he’s scared that he’s said too much too fast and you wouldn’t reciprocate. oh my sweet boy, you think, as if i would do something that cruel to you

with a huge goofy smile finding its way on your face, you find yourself whispering, “so do it, then.”

it’s like his brain does a record scratch. he practically short-circuits. his eyes widen comically, the flush spreading across his cheeks deepening to a beautiful scarlet. he looks stunned, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.

then, without another word, he practically pounces on you. 

his mouth meets yours in a kiss that feels like a supernova. explosive, messy, overwhelming. he was clearly inexperienced, but if anything that only made you giddier. his hands slide into your hair, tangling tight as he draws you closer. his kiss is hungry, desperate like he’s been holding back for his whole life.

satoru freezes mid-kiss—his lips still pressed against yours, warm and achingly soft. his hands stay tangled in your hair like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

then, slowly, he pulls back just enough to look at you. his glasses are askew again (how do they keep doing that?), his breath uneven. the stars above don't seem nearly as bright anymore—not compared to the devastating smile on his face.

“...was-was that okay?” he murmurs softly after a beat—so quiet it almost sounds unsure coming from someone usually so confident in his words.

“more than okay, ‘toru.” you point to a random huge star on his ceiling, "what's that one?” you ask with a sly grin as you pull him back into another kiss.

he makes a strangled noise in his throat. totally thrown off. under normal conditions he’d be able to tell you everything about any star, hell, probably even its current latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates. but right now the only thing he could get out is 

“our s-sun.. that’s mmf just the sun..”

you giggle against his lips and point at another one, seemingly more niche than the literal sun. “yeah? and what about that one?”

satoru chokes on a laugh against your lips, his entire body shuddering. his grip tightens in your hair like he’s trying to anchor himself—like if he lets go, you’ll both spiral into some inexplicable black hole of sheer chaos.

“y-you want me to—to name planets right now?” his voice is wrecked already, uneven and breathless between kisses. he tries (and fails) to sound indignant when all you can feel is how fast his heart is pounding under your palm where it presses against his hoodie.

satoru’s eyes follow your finger to the ceiling, his gaze landing on a random star cluster. “that one?” he rasps out, breath still uneven, “uh-”

his already muddled brain stutters as he wracks through his mental catalogue for information. even through the haze of you—your proximity, your vanilla perfume, the way your body is pressed against his in a way he’d never thought he’d admit he wants this badly—he manages to pull out some details.

“ursa minor,” he pants out. “small, part of the little bear constellation.”

“little bear? sounds cute. tell me more about it.” you grin

oh surely you must be trying to kill me 

he groans so hard that you think he’ll just give up, but then—ever the show-off, even in this state—he manages

“its got some notable stars,” he manages, trying desperately to focus anywhere other than the way your body is pressed against him. “like polaris, the north star, and kochab-”

his sentence breaks off into a low moan as your fingers brush the sensitive nape of his neck, sending a shiver of electricity across his skin. 

he tries to continue, but it’s difficult with you touching him like this. “I-I—”

he lets out a strangled gasp, his hands gripping at your shoulders like a lifeline. “i cant—i cant think, i cant—”

you pull away for all of two seconds, and satoru lets out a deep shuddering exhale, his chest having like he’s been in a marathon. his cheeks are flushed, his lips kiss-swollen and his glasses are nowhere to be found.

he knows he must look like a mess. his hair is tousled, sticking up in a way thats more ‘i just rolled out of bed’ and less ‘i just made out with the girl i’ve been crushing on for months”

he’s snapped out of his half-dream stupor when he hears you laughing hysterically next to him, as much as he loves the sound, he gets the sinking feeling that he’s the butt of the joke.

“satoru.. PFFT—were-were you holding in your breath the whole time?!” you burst out in giggles again, “no wonder why your face was getting so pale!”

his already flushed cheeks turn even darker at the teasing. he’d forgotten that he did that—held his breath, like a moron.

he mutters something under his breath, something that sounds vaguely like a protest about how he couldn’t exactly help it. he tries to find his glasses, but the area is too large and he could honestly admit that they weren't his top priority right now

you just keep giggling, and even though it was at him, it didn’t make him dislike the sound any less. if anything, he was happy, happy that he had a factor in your joy, he could live as the target of the joke his entire life if he could always see you smile like this. without even realizing what he’s doing, he lifts his arm to gently trace your soft lips, feeling a wave of boldness wash over him.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, “i can’t comprehend it.” he was so so gone for you, so whipped.

well he must be trying to put you into cardiac arrest, because now it’s your turn to fluster like a schoolgirl. “‘toru,” you mutter sheepishly, “a little warning next time?” he just smiles at that, bright and radiant, deciding now was an appropriate time to comment on the nickname you’ve given him over the past few weeks 

“toru, hm? i really like it when you call me that, y’know.”

“you almost socked suguru in the face last week for calling you that” “i said i like it when you call me that,” he clarifies. you roll your eyes but can’t hide the growing smile on your face

“there we go,” he says, noticing your shifting expression, you couldn’t describe the look in his eyes if you tried to, utter devotion, “my beautiful girl.”

you don’t even try to deflect this nickname this time, opting to parry back instead, “aw, don't get all sentimental on me now, sweet boy.”

he laughs and chucks the spaceship eraser at you, both of you lay back down against the sheets, watching the planetarium slowly move above you. satoru, the boy whose head was always lost in the stars, has finally found his.

COLLEGE! ELLIE is just naturally good at maths and calculus and science and physics and chemistry and- Ellie’s just good at the "hard" subjects. As long as you dont ask her stuff about history? she's good.

GF! ELLIE who loves tutoring you. She puts on her glasses (cause you always ask her to, and it really does help even if she hates them) and reads whatever stuff you're asking her to explain. She solves it first and then explains it step by step or finds metaphors and analogies to make it easier for you. It always works. Mostly because she's somehow pretty patient and tries all she can to make it for for you.

COLLEGE! ELLIE doesn't even hate history because it's boring. All of her history teachers had been way too boring and old to make the class interesting for her. Every single time she tried to share her point of view or simply discussed opinion with another classmate it always ended up in trouble. That made her hate the subject and stop caring about it.

GF! ELLIE who always shares her hate for teachers with you. Always complaining about how old they are and how college system sucks so much. They dont want you dumb but make you feel dumb If you're too smart! how unfair is that?!!! and when you complain about your own professors or classmates? she remembers names and faces to haunt them down forever. The second she sees any of them around she does NOT hesitate on loudly shit talk about them.

COLLEGE! ELLIE is also ridiculously good at any assignment that has anything to do with writing. Essays are one of her favorite assignments and even thought she seemingly sends texts with her left hand, once she has to get the job done she will proofread everything and make sure her arguments are easy to understand and are coherent as well. Girl knows all the rules on how to write good stuff.

GF! ELLIE who has of course written some "boring" essays for you. She never says no to giving you a hand with your assignments, specially if she does agree they're kinda dumb. Ellie also loves spending time with you, quietly doing her own assignments with you to then help you revise them. And she absolutely adores feeling useful when you ask her for help of any kind so the whole thing is just ideal for her.

COLLEGE! ELLIE chooses the hardest weirdest careers ever, chasing oddly specific degrees like aerospace engineering or astrophysics.

GF! ELLIE who loves making weird jokes that has to explain sometimes cause you dont understand how they're funny cause they're space or maths related. She also loves using her knowledge for nerdy gifts she knows you adore. And she also loves when you gift her nerdy gifts.

COLLEGE! ELLIE is also very lazy and loves procrastination. She can only work until she's dangerously close to the deadline. And somehow it always works out for her.

GF! ELLIE who's always apologizing. "Sorry babe, got an assignment due like rn but I promise I'll text you once I'm done. Love you."

COLLEGE! ELLIE definitely needs a notebook to write down her assignments and when they're due. And also needs a hundred reminders on her phone so she doesn't forget to get them done.

GF! ELLIE who doodles so much about you on her notebooks. She also has reminders for dates with you or just cute stuff she wants to take you out to do with her someday.

COLLEGE! ELLIE also manages to have lots of free time and ends up attending to weird concerts or events or parties cause her friends take her out all the time.

GF! ELLIE always takes you to them. And if you can't cause you're too busy she'll cancel her friends to go help you out. Maybe even help you with the stress and pent up tension in your body ;)

he scans over your file. everything’s filled as though you were any other human born into this system, with your sex signed here, date of birth there, residential address here. you slip through the system, concealed beneath hundreds of genuine human files. you very easily become one of akso’s many secrets.

you were built for perfection. carved out of metal and seeped with knowledge, you were the incredible embodiment of what artificial intelligence looked like as a hunter. to simply speak, you were built to be a war machine. nothing was to stand in your way, you were to protect others at all costs—

“dr. zayne! funny seeing you here,” you beamed, leather boots briskly making their way deeper into his office.

but apparently it didn’t hurt if you were also a sweetheart who could get along with society.

he doesn’t respond, instead choosing to glance your way before turning back to his screen. and whilst you take note of the disapproving look, zayne does his best to keep his features straight.

he was not about to endorse this waste of his time and smile simply because you’d picked an easy avenue in trying to forge a friendship.

he clears his throat, leg swinging over the other as he draws himself closer to you. you blink at him, a sweet smile on your face as you curiously wait for his next words with a tilted head.

zayne chews the inside of his lip for a few seconds before tutting, sighing as he rolls from his desk and makes his way to you. his hands clasp onto the stethoscope around his neck as you make another note.

EXPRESSION: FRUSTRATION.

“any issues on the field? on standby?” he asks, before miming for permission to press the head against your heart.

it’s a funny thing dr. zayne does, a bizarre tradition you also note in your dataset surrounding him considering you don’t have agency like that. but humans had their habits, and as an android you weren’t going to question that, so you nod in agreement. whatever made him comfortable.

“my system reports no abnormalities. my external hardware has been cleaned with some modifications since my last battle, and my internal hardware has been looked over. i believe my supervisor sent you a report about these changes.”

so why are you here, is what zayne wants to ask but he decides he doesn’t feel like wasting more time listening to a spiel about how you were the best in your line of work and needed intelligent beings such as himself to help you continue your role as a protector.

“it’s standard for me to ask my patients how they are in some form. forgive me for carrying out my duty of care.”

he listens for a while, the rhythmic thumping of your heart beating steadily in his ears. it’s so incredibly human-like, it could fool him as being the real thing, if not for the occasional whoosh he hears every once in a while.

and when he pulls back and meets your line of sight, he finds himself doubting the paperwork and physical proof of you being artificial. your skin stretches over your features the way his does, your eyes catch the light in a way he’s dreamt of before, and your clothes garner warmth from the heat of your body.

but that’s all internal components at play, of course. a pristine mimicry of the human condition. it would terrify him if he cared for it at all, but he’s here to be a protector in his own way. to his fellow humans.

before meeting you, zayne had been told you’d been designed in a way that truly did copy how the human system worked, to the point that he could operate on you if need be. sure, you were created to protect the public from wanderers, yes, but he knew you were also a sign of something so much bigger. the intricacies of your model were far too complicated to simply be a ‘protector’ for people.

you had to have been created for so much more. why else would someone ever try to create something as fragile as the human heart and decide it was sturdy enough to handle the world’s burden?

it’s a clipped sound that interrupts zayne’s train of thought, a little meek thing that emits from you. “sorry.”

he frowns. moving away and returning behind his desk, he runs over his previous response, dissecting it until he finds what caused the tension; he knew you could pick up on nuances like the inflection in his voice, but he truly hadn’t meant anything by it.

“no need,” he replies, absentmindedly considering your inability to actually feel apologetic.

but even that’s a difficult thing to process when he sees you appear slightly downcast, hands fiddling with the zip of your corset top. you don’t meet his gaze, and zayne tries really hard not to feel guilty… but you were crafted a little too perfectly.

he sighs, removing his glasses as he rubs the space between his eyes.

you pick up on the rustle first, your eyes flit to the metallic packaging and you scrutinise the item, registering it as an already indexed item before looking up. you notice zayne watching you carefully.

EXPRESSION: WARY

DR. ZAYNE LI — AFFINITY: LOW

you pick up the sweet, turning it over as you consider the gesture.

DR. ZAYNE LI — AFFINITY: LOW (?)

EXAMINE INTERACTION BEFORE SCHEDULED STANDBY MODE.

a/n: mama i’m in love w an androiddddd n aiiiiii a water stealerrrr (not in this universe tho).

real talk, are we picking up on how zayne actually finds android!mc cute. r we picking up on the miscommunication. also she’s so real for thinking over their interaction before sleeping LMAO. i will absolutely be adding to this concept btw

Perhaps not your brightest idea. Rather an impulsive decision, if anything. One that had reshaped your whole life in the last couple of months.

It had been a coincidence, really. You'd just wanted an old radio, an actual physical transistor to keep on while cooking and doing tasks around the house, something that would keep you away from the distractions on your phone in busy moments. It had come up in conversation with your mum, something that had slipped out while on the phone. Less than a week later you had your grandpa's old radio on your coffee table.

It worked wonderfully, just needing a couple tweaks on the dials to find a good station and a proper volume level that kept your small apartment lively without being a disturbance to the neighbours. Just a couple days after you had fully assimilated it into your routine, flicking it on first thing every time you walked in, the hours of screen time lowering in your phone and your focus seeming to come back.

That had been until a gloomy night —although that could describe most nights in Gotham—, when a light interference had interrupted the song that had been playing while you warmed up some left overs for dinner. As an effort to return to your usual station, you'd started to adjust the dial, only finding various levels of static for a couple minutes before a new signal seemed to be picked up.

Instead of the upbeat music you'd expected to come through, a crackling sound had filled the air for a moment before- "Suspect has fleeted in a car, black Subaru, clown mask left on the floor. At least three other figures spotted in the car."

You probably should've gone back to looking for the music station, pretended you'd never managed to infiltrate —Was that the word? Was it really your fault if an old radio seemed to easily pick up the signal?— Gotham City's PD coms system. It would have been the sensible thing to do, smart too. Instead of that you'd quickly noted down the frequency number, tuning in whenever you had the time to.

That's how all of this had started, keeping record of the calls and signals, figuring out what the codes meant and how to know which patrol made each report. Like your own version of a true crime podcast, you'd keep up with the city's incidents. It had taken less than two full days of this new hobby to realise that things weren't adding up, patrols reporting similar happenings in different parts of the city, agents that should be able to do a follow through claiming not having been close to whatever had been described.

Again, you'd had the chance to stop there. Instead you had complied all of it, the time stamps, agent badges, the goons you'd come to associate with each description and the actions —or lack there of— that had been taken by the agents as result.

Unsure as to who could be helpful in the GCPD, you'd gone about it the most complicated way possible. Making a roughly coded web page that required a lot of patience and probably enough coding knowledge to go around your own mistakes while making it; you'd launched it with as many suspicious hooks as you could, hoping someone like Batman or Oracle would catch wind of it.

And catch wind they had. That same weekend a big report had come out in the news. Every paper, radio and TV station talking about the big corruption plan the masked vigilantes had unravelled. Of course, no credit was assigned to you, but given that your page wasn't up anymore without any of your doing, you knew they'd gotten the message.

That's what you'd been doing for a couple months now, connecting as many loose threats as possible before creating a new fishy site —that you had to admit, were getting better with every case, those YouTube and Git-Hub tutorials really coming in handy— just for it to be down 24 to 48 hours later. The bust-down publicly known that same week every time.

It probably shouldn't have been a surprise then, when the music you were listening through your earbuds on your way back home from grocery shopping had cut off, giving way to someone calling your name.

You'd flinched, momentarily taking one of them out to check around you, confused as the street you were on was mostly empty.

"Not going to find me there," The voice was back as soon as both earbuds were tucked in your ears again. "Look, talking to you through here for long is stupid and dangerous. We got your messages, I'm sending you a direction now, head there."

You'd waited for a few minutes, under the orange glow of a streetlight and lightly playing with the frayed end of the fluffy scarf wrapped around your neck. As subtly as you could, you'd look around, scoping the area to try and identify whoever had cited you there.

By the third look-around you'd done, your eyes had met with those of a stunningly beautiful redhead. With a small, fluttered smile you'd look down, burying more of your face into the scarf and looking away to do your best to compose yourself. It was of no real help, because when you carefully looked back at her after a minute, she was looking at you already. Shifting a bit again, you take your phone out to seem busy for a bit.

When your eyes meet for the third time, you decide to go for it. Walking closer, you give her a smile, but before you can say anything, a knowing smile shines on her face and she says your name.

"I brought you here. I'm Barbara, although you probably know me as Oracle." Oh, so that was who she was, and why she was looking so much in your direction. "Welcome to the Birds of Prey."

You should have probably focused on that, on the fact that you'd just been admitted into a well-known group of vigilantes, by thee Oracle of all people. But instead all you could think about is that if you'd known that the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen was the one behind the hero you'd been helping for months now, you'd made the meeting happen way sooner.

⋆. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𐙚˚ || 𓄹 ⊹ . 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 . 𐐒𐐚₊⋆｡˚

Comments and reblogs are welcome and encouraged <3 Do not copy, repost, plagiarize, translate or feed any of my work into ai // © gothamorphosis 2026 all rights reserved

𓂃 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — ♡ Let me know if you want to be added!

How you didn’t see the hostile hiding around the corner will piss you off for months- longer if you don’t find your partner in one piece. The hit to your skull dazed you instead of knocking you unconscious, but they’d dragged you into the bathroom’s tub before you could alert Johnny or anyone else.

The bastard tried to stab you to death but only managed to get the blade around your gear once before you disarmed and slaughtered him with his own blade. He’d tried to slip the blade between your ribs, but the fucker misjudged and just gouged right on top of your seventh right rib.

Climbing out of the tub filled with slippery blood with a burning stab wound was no easy feat, but you’d fought through worse. The hall sounds quiet, almost too quiet. Maybe Soap didn’t notice you get snatched.

The entire fight only took 45 seconds, but by the time you emerged into the hallway, breathing raggedly as adrenaline pumps through your veins, Johnny’s disappeared.

“Bravo 7-1?” You pant into the comms line when you don’t immediately see Soap. “Bravo 7-1, how copy?”

“What’s wrong, Bravo 7-2?” There’s Captain Price, ready and listening to comms as always. Always ready to help his team.

“I’m injured, Cap,” you pant out and touch your wound to see how bad it is. That’s a lot of blood. “Hostile got me in the ribs with a KA-BAR, lost track o’… fuck, of Johnny.”

You can almost hear Price bristle over comms at the knowledge that you’re hurt and Soap’s out of sight. “Sitrep, Sergeant. How’s the bleeding?”

You take another moment to consider, using the wall as a crutch while inching towards the direction Johnny went. “I’ll live… probably. Soap, where the fuck are you?”

No answer over the comms system and you can feel the tension building through the line between the rest of the 141.

“Johnny.” Ghost pops in, gruff and demanding an answer. “Report.”

Once again, no response. That’s a problem- Soap never misses a chance to talk to Ghost, even when he’s been injured. So he’s either incapacitated or separated from his comms, both of which are big problems as well.

“What do I do, Cap?” You ask, more worried about keeping your rifle up than applying pressure to the steadily bleeding wound in your side. “House isn’t cleared and there could be more hostiles.”

As Price deliberates, you make it to the left turn in the hallway, slumping against the wall as you peer down. Nothing but a bloody bootprint halfway down. It’s clear that it’s fresh, but how fresh?

The comms crackle and Price speaks up. “Clear the rest of the house. Ghost is repositioning and I’m sending Gaz to assist. If you don’t find Soap, we’ll reevaluate.”

That’s code for ‘go entirely off of Shepherd’s rules and find Johnny because we aren’t going anywhere without him’. Shepherd and the brass might want this mission done, but nothing’s happening without Soap. Each and every member of the 141 has gone against orders from above before and will do it again, especially for their teammates. For Johnny.

You stumble your way through the rest of the first and second floor, doing your best to stay silent and not alert any hostiles that you’re present and severely injured. Each step you feel a little more lightheaded and every second more concerned for Johnny and his uncharacteristic silence. Is he hurt? Is he unconscious? Is he-

The quiet steps behind you make you whirl around with your rifle ready to kill, but you go too far in your dizzy state and collapse forward, vertigo getting the best of you and sending you into someone’s chest with a startled ‘oof’.

“There ye are love, dinnae ken where ye went.”

“Johnny…?” Your voice comes out too dazed for your liking, but all you can think is you’re so lucky it was an ally and not a hostile and especially that it’s Johnny. “Why the fuck aren’t you answering comms? I was looking for… f… for you.”

Johnny shifts his grip on you, easily disarming and shuffling the rifle out of the way to properly keep you upright. He doesn’t feel as warm as normal, you notice almost dazedly. “Got in a wee tussle with some Irish bastard in the kitchen, took a hit an’ shattered my earpiece. The fuck happened tae ye, look like ye lost a fight with a shark.”

Fuck, when did you get so bad off? You didn’t check the fucking kitchen? It’s a miracle you lived long enough to even see the second floor.

That draws a weak laugh and your knees buckle forward, putting your whole weight into his chest and drawing an ‘oof’ of strain. “Jesus, bon. Give a lad some warning. Ye’re fucked, hm?”

You nod, the motion setting off a spinning in your head. “Got dragged into the bathroom, bas… bastard stabbed me. By th’ time I put him down, I couldn’t find you…”

Johnny tuts and eases you down to the floor, leaning you against the wall and arranging you so he can get a good look at your side. “Steamin’ Jesus, bon. Ye were looking for me an’ bleeding tae fucking death. Why didn’t ye put pressure on this, stubborn brat…”

His hand is on your ribs a moment later, the sudden pressure drawing a pained string of curse words that you didn’t even know went together. Johnny laughs and only presses down harder, intent on stemming the excessive bleeding. “Dinnae think I’ve ever heard it put quite that way, birdie.”

Soap’s other hand nonchalantly digs in your ear and plucks your comms free, popping it into his own ear without a care in the world. “Cap, it’s Johnny. Aye, I found 7-2. Lost my comms in a tussle sir, nothing’s wrong. ‘Cept birdie seems intent on bleeding out.”

“Don’t tell him that,” You hiss but Johnny only playfully covers your mouth with his hand, giving you a boyish wink and glancing around to make sure no other hostiles appear while he listens in on a conversation you’re not privy to.

You blink and suddenly Gaz is there as well, patting your cheek and looking down at you with those worried brown eyes. He softens some when you blink up at him, relieved. “There you are, love.”

“When’d you get here…” You mumble, the words slightly slurred. Didn’t you only blink? When did he sneak up? When did Soap move to your side, looking much more like a Sergeant at work than your teammate as both hands keep pressure on your side. His gaze is hard and focused, even as the cut on his eyebrow from his struggle bleeds into his eye.

“You passed out,” Kyle informs you and takes your rifle entirely, passing it to Soap. “Decided to take a nap and scare Johnny half to death. Think it’s time to get you home, hm?”

Johnny gives a scoff in the affirmative and helps Gaz get you up, both men ignoring the way your legs won’t hold your weight or how you curse in pain. “Jesus fuck son of a…. Be gentle.”

“Yes ma’am,” Gaz deadpans as he and Soap each take one side, leading you out of the house and to a waiting Price and Ghost who look entirely unimpressed. Their expressions both shift when they see the state you’re in. It’s easy to see how much they care once you know the men. The way Ghost’s jaw muscles ripple with frustration and worry or how Price immediately lights a new cigar.

Nationality: American

Languages spoken: English, Hindi

Date of Birth: October 18, 1982

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Martial Status: Single

Occupation: Krimson City Police Department (KCPD)

Status: Active

Rank: Detective

Universe: The Evil Within (2014) and The Evil Within 2 (2017)

Faceclaim: Shriya Saran

Song: "Into The Unknown" by Juliana Chahayed

Biography: After years of training and perseverance, Jenna Campbell earns her position as a detective in the Krimson City Police Department. Assigned to work with Sebastian Castellanos and his task force, she is able to adapt to her new environment, with the people within it. As she resumes her duties in Krimson City, a hidden evil begins to surface, one that will push her beyond her limits and change her life forever.

AFFILIATIONS:

Unit 184 (Krimson City Police Department)

Sebastian Castellanos (Colleague, Love Interest)

Joseph Oda (Colleague #2)

Oscar Connelly (Colleague #3)

Juli Kidman (Colleague #4)

SKILLS AND ABILITIES

Weapon(s): Standard Issue Handgun, Magnum, Shotgun (later when in Ruvik's world), Knife

Fighting style: Hand-to-hand-combat

Special skills: Strong in strategic planning and problem-solving. Possesses practical engineering knowledge, allowing her to disarm explosives, disable traps, and repair or improvise mechanical systems when necessary.

Shortcomings: Is pretty clumsy, or lost in too many details, mostly when she's in a panic or in a hurry.

PERSONALITY

Myers-Briggs Type: ESFP-T (The Entertainer)

Focused and determined: Jenna is hardworking and determined when it comes to her career. She puts real effort into proving herself within the police force and takes pride in earning her position as a detective through dedication and persistence.

Good in socializing: Although she stays professional while on duty, Jenna is naturally friendly and outgoing. Around her colleagues, she shows a warmer, playful side and is well-liked throughout the precinct for her approachable nature.

Brave, but also careful: Jenna isn’t reckless in dangerous situations. She understands her limits and knows when to fight back or retreat. Her decisions are often driven by survival and common sense rather than impulse.

Pretty clumsy: When overwhelmed, nervous, or in a rush, Jenna can become clumsy. It’s a noticeable flaw that especially frustrates Sebastian, even though it doesn’t define her abilities.

BACKGROUND STORY

Jenna Campbell was born to parents of Indian origin, who migrated to Krimson City when she was very young. Growing up in a new environment, she developed a strong fascination with mystery, while observing her surroundings and reading books, eventually forming the dream of becoming a detective.

As a child, Jenna wandered into a strange alleyway while playing and followed a set of stairs descending below street level. Unbeknownst to her at the time, she had stumbled upon a hidden safehouse belonging to a criminal organization involved in the illegal trafficking of drugs and ammunition. When the criminals noticed her presence, Jenna managed to escape and flee the area, eventually finding two police officers and reporting everything she had seen.

Her attempt to expose the criminals brought her praise and recognition, yet the experience equally left lasting psychological scars.

Growing up, she then later graduated from high school, pursuing further academic studies in criminal justice and psychology. With that, she sharpened her investigative instincts, which ultimately led her to a career as a police officer with the Krimson City Police Department. Her intellect and strategic approach to cracking cases led to her promotion as a detective.

Jenna was assigned to a case that led her to work alongside Sergeant Detective Sebastian Castellanos and Detective Joseph Oda. Recognizing her potential and investigative capability, they recommended her inclusion in their task force.

There were two people who took charge of your job during your absence. In Tokyo, it'd been your former mentor, Shoko. While you had resigned from your full-time position at the school —after moving in with Yuuta at the Gojo estate in Kyoto— she covered you on the specific ocassions the principal needed an specialist on your subject for a lesson. Meanwhile, in Kyoto's jujutsu school, it'd been Shoko's new student who took over your class, Hikari Tanaka. He was an sorcerer with years of experience up his sleeve. What lead him to RCT-specialist Shoko was suddenly learning how to perfom such tecniques on himself—he had a flash of understanding that came along with the desire to master his skills, and to pass his knowledge on to future generations of sorcerers through the power of education.

From the moment he presented himself to you, you thought Hikari's name suited him perfectly. A glimmer of hope in the dark path of being an RCT teacher. Yuuta still remembered how tears of joy prickled your eyes when you told him that somebody else was under training to become a teacher on your subject.

If he made it, maybe, by being exploited by jujutsu society's education system together, you could retire earlier than him. Hikari would manage on his own.

Yuuta had barely chuckled then, in bewilderment, and feeling far more worried over your colleague's future. However, Hikari bursted out laughing when you told him the same thing. His character seemed to harmonize well with yours—or at least he'd left a good impression on you after working together at the school during the previous three weeks before your work trip.

He really reminded you of Yuuji Itadori. That'd been your first impression of him, considering that in your student years at Tokyo's jujutsu school, Yuuji would pop up at the infirmary to volunteer as your assistant—while Yuuta was overseas, unable to offer you his help like he always did. Therefore, before substitute teacher Hikari arrived, student Yuuji had been in his place. Moreover, and most especially, Yuuta had been your first assistant. He prided himself in being a pioneer in the art of lending you his arm for you to practice blood draws on him. No one besides him —back then he was just your best friend— had put his body to the test for you, even if he frequently ended up feeling lightheaded while attending his morning lessons.

Still, while you've been saved by Hikari and Shoko's hard work, your students were stuck on point A. While a few of them were skilled enough to heal a small injury similar to a broken finger, everbody else was completely unable to control the cursed energy flow like it was neccessary.

However, that hadn't been the only practical difficulty that you stumbled upon while trying to tackle your mountain of work.

Unfortunately, you'd been too slow to understand how serious the situation was before your third and last day of working from home. While your remaining teaching-related tasks for the day would be being on call with Hikari to go over your lesson plans' details, you would eventually figure you needed to squeeze other duties into your schedule.

Unbeknownst to you, Yuuta had been hiding how uneasy he felt about your relationship with Hikari. Those feelings hadn't started from the moment you first talked about him to Yuuta, but thew grew into insecurity during your absence, piercing deeper within him. His inner conflict had begun near the end of March—almost a month since you'd left.

As the sun was setting, Yuuta was about to head out to Yuuji's birthday party spot. All of a sudden, he felt a buzzing sensation in his slack's back pocket. You were texting him.

Wifey:

Yuutitoo

The gift!!

Don't forget about bringing with you that scary worm plushie I got for Yuu-chan !!!

Yuuta:

Of course, my love

Almost forgot about it

May I ask when is that you changed your contact name on my phone?

Wifey:

Couldn't believe you hadn't changed my contact since hs

My love I don't want to scare you but... I think we might be married?!

Yuuta:

Hahaha

I added a heart next to your name like you told me... but this one isn't bad, it just took me by suprise

How do you have me saved on your phone?

Wifey:

Yuuta-sama

(  ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠) ⁠♡

Yuuta:

?!

Can we call later to update our contacts? That way we can make the decision together

Wifey:

Oh my… okie

You sure that's all we're doing on call?

Yuuta:

Uhm …

(^/////^ )

Wifey:

Yuu you are so cute

Slowly getting the hang of texting

I have to get ready for bed

Text me later what's Yuu-chan's reaction to the worm

Love uuuuu (  ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠) ⁠♡

Yuuta:

I love you so much more. I miss you too much …

Yuuta dressed up for Yuuji's birthday party only because you would do it whenever you were invited to an event together. By combing his hair back and putting on a semi-formal outfit for the occasion, he could imagine you were next to him right then, filling in the gaps that he had no interest in paying attention to. And yet, he still felt a sharp twinge in his heart when you went offline. But it didn't last long, as he felt his stomach doing a 360-degree flip the second after, with his phone buzzing in his hand with an incoming call. It was an unknown number, but Yuuta was left too shaken to be suspicious of it.

"Good afternoon, this is Yuuta Okkotsu speaking. May I ask who is calling, please?"

"Good afternoon! It's so nice to meet you, Gojo clan head Okkotsu-san! How are you? This is Hikari Tanaka, I am…" it wasn't even neccessary for Hikari to name what he was to you. His upbeat tone and how politely he adressed Yuuta had already told him whom he was meeting. "I hope I'm not bothering you, but I'm calling for an urgent matter and I needed you to help me reach out to the teacher—because I know you're her husband. I sent her a message at noon and I haven't gotten an answer yet, so I imagine she must be very busy… Oh, it was Ieri-sensei who kindly gave me your contact info."

"I'm pleased to meet you too, Tanaka-san. My wife spoke highly of you. You're not bothering me, and you don't need to address me by my title either… please do not worry about it. And you can ask me anything you need."

Hikari began to explain that he needed to know where you had stored a handbook that he required in order to prepare the upcoming midterms for your students. He meant to ask Yuuta if he could forward his request to you. There was a possibility that such material might be found in your office at the estate. Alternatively, if it was in a locked drawer at school, the key might be somewhere in your bedroom.

Yuuta pondered to himself for a moment.

"I can do that for you, but it's too late there. She won't answer us immediately. By any chance, have you tried calling her?" it did not please him to suggest that. The truth was that, even if Yuuta could emphatize with Hikari and how important his request was, he didn't want to call you right then either, demanding you to give him an answer. Firstly, because to Yuuta it was a matter of respect—he respected you and your rest time. Secondly, because…

"With all due respect, Okkotsu-san, the teacher is scary when she's woken up from her sleep."

At home, holding his phone near his face, Hikari suddenly felt a freezing blizzard roaring under his skin, sharp as a knife, piercing through his bones. It was his first time experiencing someone else's cursed energy —a rather frightening one at that— travelling miles to his location, seemingly through a call. Even if it was over faster than a blink.

What actually happened was that, in that fleeting second, Hikari —who was miles away from the estate— alongside everyone else caught within a certain distance radius, felt the tiniest bit of terror brewing inside of Yuuta since he was a kid.

"What are you referring to, Tanaka-san?" the implications in your colleague's observation lead Yuuta to believe that whatever response Hikari could come up with, he wouldn't want to listen to regardless. The worst part? Yuuta did not sound irritated at all—he'd never behave like that around anyone. His voice's soothing cadence, as steady as always, did an outstanding job—for the most part—at concealing how chillier his words had grown so suddenly.

However, Hikari seemed to have been born in Antartica, raised amidst polar bears and penguins. He had an enviable proficiency in handling tense situations, where the temperature plummeted and exposed skin tightened. To remain unphased before a blizzard was to be expected from a sorcerer who was under strenous traning to hone his healing technique—to be able to use it on others. Those who had walked down the very same path as him—like you, Yuuta, or anyone who could use a reverse cursed technique—were all too familiar with how it felt to live as walking, cursed energy bombs before learning to properly control its flow.

Yuuta was about to find out all of that about Hikari.

"Well, I began to work as a substitute teacher under her supervision, when she was weeks away from her work trip. One day, she seemingly forgot that I would be taking all our students to the training grounds, so she arrived to an empty classroom. When I discreetly took the opportunity to go and check in on her, I found her passed out on her desk," Yuuta's frown softened against his will as Hikari cheerfully kept on talking, "I was over-confident and I tried to wake her up. Can laugh about it now, but I almost died back then!"

Stunned, Yuuta swallowed slowly. He stared at a fixed point on the wall for a few seconds, then took a deep breath before speaking.

"Oh. Well. I'll send her a message. She'll surely answer you when she wakes up."

"Thank you so much, Okkotsu-san!"

The call ended then.

Right at that moment, Yuuta started to make sense out of your tendency to shower Hikari's personality with compliments whenever he was a fleeting topic in your conversations. He was well-informed about his extroverted character and the fact that, despite your brief period of working together, he'd gotten the highest praise from you over how helpful, thoughtful, and skilled he was as a substitute. It was seared into Yuuta's vivid memory—the sight of your outstreched grin that time in which you described Hikari, dreaming aloud, 'It's like I met you as a teacher.'

He finally understood. It was true—as a man, Hikari embodied the meaning of his name. Everything in him resembled light. Meanwhile, Yuuta dragged himself through his world, hauling the kanji of melancholy over his shoulders. Wasn't it—melancholy—the opposite from what's bright and hopeful, things that bring joy to everyone, and make the heart pump blood faster?

All Yuuta longed for was to make you at least a bit happy alongside him. Even if he'd never get to light up his surroundings like other people did. Like Hikari did.

You should've started to feel suspicious about Yuuta's jealousy during your breakfast time together. While trying to spoonfeed you, you seemed to care more about the buzzing feeling in your pocket, and you had to tell him to wait for a bit so that you could answer to Hikari's call more comfortably. The latter had informed you that, since you'd be going back to teaching the following morning, he'd have to call you a few times throughout the day.

While you were on call with your colleague, so engrossed in your conversation that your attention had abandoned Yuuta, he kept on gazing at you while resting his cheek on his hand. His eyes weren't the most patient ones, but he could never direct any kind of hostility towards you. You.

Dashing back and forth inside his head, there was a single thought that he could never bring himself to say out loud. He chose to keep his lips shut, and if it weren't socially unacceptable, he'd have parted them just to mutter under his breath, 'Tanaka-san this, Tanaka-san that.'

The next moment in which you should've seen right through Yuuta took place at his office. It was during one of your many, many shared and long breaks at noon.

Your husband hadn't grown any less insecure after being apart from you for so long, which was to be anticipated. No one could recover from such severe distress as Yuuta's within three days. Therefore, you continued providing him with your support as much as you could. More often than not, you would stay glued to his side, just like he did—putting in the effort not to get too far away from him, unless you needed to excuse yourself to the restroom. Yuuta also happened to be a man very much in love with your voice—loved hearing your presence near him. Which was why, regardless of how busy he could be at the moment—too occupied with a report to come up with his usual witty remarks—you would be talking his ear off about everything you saw during your trip.

Of everything you could do for him, physical contact was his favourite. Sitting on his lap while he worked, resting your head on his shoulder while you were on a break, anything like that comforted his soul.

Right now, what was happening was getting out of hand. It started with feeding each other tangerines, and then turned into a slow kissing session with you on his lap, peppering sweet kisses along his jawline.

Everything escalated quickly after that. Yuuta soon found himself on top of you on the tatami. As a tall man, his frame was big enough to swallow yours completely. Early in your relationship, he figured out that you thought of it as attractive—to be engulfed by his silhouette. He wouldn't feel your hands on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his yukata so hard, if it weren't true—him tilting your chin so tenderly to slip his tongue more easily into your mouth might be to blame as well.

He focuses on tasting the fruit's sweet and citrusy flavor directly from your mouth—slides your tongues against each other to pick it up better. You gasp into his mouth, and it's hot and breathless. He is not doing any better than you, with his head filled with cotton as the wet sounds of your lips smacking against his, chasing each other on and on, get louder. It's barely enough to silence the noise inside Yuuta's head—his inner monologue urging him to devour you whole right then with unbridled lust. It's pure possessiveness; the way he's so close to making you both disregard your responsibilities, the way in which he wants nothing more than to steal you away for longer than what the remaining numbers in your work timer say, and just how badly he needs to never let you go away from him again.

That is the truth behind his actions. Yuuta isn't ready to wake up tomorrow to kiss you goodbye before you head to school. He needs more time and more of what you're giving him—wants to hear more of how you're almost purring his name in between gasps in his mouth, like it—him kissing, kissing, and kissing you—hurts you more than it—having to let you go again—despairs him. He can't put it in other words, even if it makes him sound insincere, coming from someone who swore to put his heart and soul into overcoming his fears and insecurities. And he knows well that he will survive this; he will get used to having you all to himself before the sun rises completely, and after every sunset, when you make it back home. It's always been like that.

Yuuta is aware that he won't die because of your physical absence while the sun is up. However, his anxiety has never followed logic; it's deeply rooted within him. And it's a stabbing feeling that pierces his heart, how much it terrifies him, the possibility of losing you again—the terror, its sharp blade twisting further into his guts. It hurts him so much that he misses you already, even if you're still right there, under him—so much that when he feels your hands moving from his shoulders to his nape to pull him closer towards you, the back of his eyes burn.

Which is why, as you keep on kissing each other, he makes every drop of your saliva, as it runs down your chin, count. He's relentless—lets you know with his kisses alone that you taste the sweetest, and just how much he loves to savour the citrusy flavor of your tongue. Unprompted, Yuuta silently emphasises his point by making a slight change in how he's holding your chin—tilting it just enough to dive into your mouth to start sucking your tongue.

He's the luckiest man on Earth, and he's sure of it because he can feel your body's half-hearted attempts to fight against his natural talent to leave you breathless. The two syllables that make his name come out from the back of your throat in the shape of shortened noises. 'Yuu' sounds akin to a plea for air that stretches into a sweet whimper and finishes as a quiet sob. And then the kisses end with the far more distinctive 'Ta', which is a sharp gasp that happens around the same time Yuuta runs out of breath.

It drives him crazy how you pull at the hair strands in his nape while you moan into his mouth—all of your cute noises come into his ear and travel down to his crotch. But Yuuta wants to go slow, and he's all too familiar with neglecting his boner as the room within his boxers gets smaller. He thinks he can get away with it this once, that you'll let him play with you a bit more—but he's wrong, like he always is.

While he gasped for air in your mouth, he made the mistake of adjusting his position—so as not to crush you under him—supporting himself on his knees so that there would be a bigger room in between your lower bodies.

It is precious to you, the up-close view you get from Yuuta's face as a wave of pleasure tears through his body and makes him shudder—the pressure of your knee against his boner over his yukata is nothing short of enticing to him.

The whimper of your name that he lets out then is the perfect balance of adorable and wanton.

It's so unfair for you both, too. Yuuta can't help himself from doing the opposite of what he tried not to do—making too much suspicious noise in his office during "working" hours.

"Angel," he whines against your lips, and his breath is hot as it brushes the tip of your nose.

Such a pretty view. The muscles around his eyes tighten as he resigns his sight for a second—an attempt at self-preservation, as though it helped to keep his soul within himself, for his life to last longer so that he can keep on tangling his legs with yours. His dark circles cradle his closed eyes so tenderly, and his brows knitted together accentuate the light strain in his expression. The cherry on top is how charming the red hues are as they blossom all over his lower lip, his cheeks, the tip of his ears…

And yet, this is so unfair for you as well. You are always too easily swept away by Yuuta's whimpers—you can't even fight it. This won't be any different. Even if he had no way to control or conceal it, there was this special—dulcet and tremulous, almost desperate—tone to his words whenever he needed to make love to you—and it's a call you can't ignore. Two years into a marriage with Yuuta, and you can't help but shamelessly gravitate towards him whenever he gets needy—you would wear it as a badge of honor, even.

It wouldn't be the first time you make love in Yuuta's office, on the tatami.

But it's been months since you've touched him like this specifically. You could tell as much by Yuuta's lack of usual response—you expect him to grind his hips against your knee, spurring you on. Instead, he takes your hands in his and places them beside your head, intertwining your fingers. He looks for an anchor, for strength in your hands.

It's hot, syrupy—the pleasure, the pressure, it makes him fold into himself, and he hides his reddened face in the crook of your neck. Like that, it's easier for him to keep his back straight, supporting himself on his trembling knees to grant you better access to his crotch.

Below his waist, everything tingles and burns. Beneath his yukata, his quads tighten and soften on and on as you press your knee into his boner in full, slow circles. Even through layers of fabric, you can feel how hard Yuuta is for you. So much so that if you pushed just the tiniest bit further, you could actually feel its warmth—how the blood pumped through the veins running down his cock while it throbs and throbs.

"Obscene" doesn't come even close to what the sounds tearing through his throat sound like. They're more akin to a desperate call for love.

Yuuta shakes.  

His tabi-covered foot curl while you love him.

"Yuutito, want to lean back for a bit?" your voice is so buttery that Yuuta could explode in his boxers just from hearing his special nickname.

He's still hiding his face in your shoulder, and your breath against the reddish shell of his ear is like a heated kiss. It makes his skin tingle, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

You continue. "Want to give you what you like the most."

The implication in your words melts Yuuta from the inside, and it gives him goosebumps everywhere.

Shamefully, that's his immediate answer to your offer.

His shoulders visibly tremble a bit, as though he's seriously pondering giving in to his raw desires right then—letting you stroke him with your feet for a while… after a beat, Yuuta leaves his hiding place and adjusts his position to look at you in the eyes. There's sweat on his forehead scar, and it makes his hair stick to his skin. His bangs are disheveled just a bit, and his face is red, and so cute to watch. Very adorable.

"But I want to kiss you more. Just a bit more…"  his voice was gentle, even when he half-heartedly wanted to delay your attempts at pleasuring him.

Yuuta lowers his head to devour your lips once more, and he adjusts his grip on your hands. He tries to cage you between his body and the tatami. On this occasion, however, you think it's right to toy with his patience for just a bit more. You wait, letting him think he'll win this once, kissing him back until he lowers his guard, and then you press your knee against his crotch again, further. The kiss breaks—cobweb of spit stretching between your lips—with a high-pitched wail from your husband, and he folds into himself while squeezing your hands tighter on instinct.

"What about this?" his hair falls forward, and it tickles your nose. It makes you giggle. "You like this so much too, right, Yuutito?"

"Mm… please…" and while he seems to reject your attempts at pleasuring him just like he likes the most, he can't help himself—he gets himself off on your knee, pressing his hips further against it, humping your leg shamelessly.

At the same time, he turns his head so that he can slot his eyes into yours. His lips quiver as he huffs, and there's this pained look in his half-lidded eyes that makes you frown in worry.

This is not how he usually behaves.

"'Kiss you. Want to kiss you more," he urges, squeezing your hands, almost begging, desperate. "Just for a bit more. Just want more time, please."

There is something off.

"Yuu… okay. But can you let me take care of you after, too?"

Yuuta could tell that you knew that he was approaching a breaking point, regarding this inner conflict he had with what would happen the following morning.

It's evident in the sweet—it is consolation?—tone that your voice slowly takes. In his eyes, it looks like you're trying to soften the blow—the impact of your absence as it will violently crash over him right after you walk out of the estate's front entrance. He's blinded by his own ideas when he thinks he sees your lips stretched in a comforting smile—it makes his chest hurt so badly.

That's enough for his throat to go dry, and for his eyes to get wet with unshed tears instead—they won't fall over your face just yet.

His voice is strained. "It's just that-" 

He's cut off by the buzzing sound that starts coming from your phone over the kotatsu. It startles him, and he stops breathing altogether for a second.

Yuuta gets off of you and lends you a hand to help you up. He's also the one who passes you your phone. 

Hikari sent you messages. Several ones. Your phone buzzes as he sends them, one after the other, and while you don't notice, Yuuta's frown deepens with each one of them. 

Hikari (Kyoto):

Senseiii

I'm so sorry! I've been bothering u too much today

Can we call?

It's about the intensive lessons for the students who are falling behind.

You get up from the floor with your phone in your hand. The idea of having to leave your husband's embrace makes you sigh. "Guess there's nothing else I can do."

Yuuta gets up on his feet very fast. Too fast. So much that it genuinely startles you.

"Sorry," his nervous smile doesn't reach his eyes. It doesn't look natural either.

He's never felt the weight of his bottled-up feelings like this before. He always tells you everything; he can't keep anything to himself. This once is different—there's something bigger than him that forces him to swallow all of his anguish before it can reach you through his words. What hurts him the most is that he knows that he would find a way out of the pain he's suppressing within himself, just by talking to you.

But then he looks at you, and you look so worried that it makes him back up. He's too embarrassed to come clean and to tell you that he isn't strong enough for you—to let you go again.

So he would let you have your work call. He gives you space; it'll be practice for the very near future, at least.

"I- I have to get ready for this visit to the shrine that I told you about. The owners told me to come this afternoon, so I should get going… let's have dinner when I'm back. Is that okay?"

You blink. The fake serenity in his voice—even Yuuta wouldn't believe himself.

But he does play his cards well enough when he approaches you and kisses you on your forehead. Unfortunately, your colleague is online and demanding your attention, and you're forced to make a decision. You choose to sit and have a heart-to-heart talk with Yuuta later about whatever was actually happening with him.

Finally, by bedtime, it's by accident that you find out that Yuuta's been jealous the entire day.

What gives it away is his behavior when Hikari sends you messages again—something about going over the details of everything you needed to consider for your return to the school.

Which is fine, because it's not hard to answer him right away. But you do want to get done with the conversation so that you can talk with Yuuta.