#shishikuno

mogari wasn’t the type to believe in love at first sight. ghosts? obviously. curses? sure. but love? nah.

and yet.

the first time he sees you, it’s like something glitches in his brain. you’re just walking down the hallway, nothing particularly dramatic about it, but the way the light catches on you, the way you move, like you’re in sync with some rhythm he can’t hear—it’s enough to make him stop mid-step, nearly causing someone to crash into his back.

from that moment on, it’s over for him.

he starts seeing you everywhere. at first, it’s probably coincidence. probably. but then he starts making it happen. changing his routes, timing his walks between classes, hanging around places he knows you’ll pass through.

and the first time he actually talks to you? pure improvisation.

“uh, you know you’ve got a spirit following you, right?”

you blink at him, clearly caught off guard. “what?”

he nods, arms crossed like he’s the authority on this. “yeah. been seeing it for a while. sticks close to you. might be harmless, might not be. but, uh… you might wanna let me keep an eye on it. just in case.”

you stare at him, and for a second, he thinks he’s ruined it. that you’ll call him a weirdo and walk away. but then—

“…how do you even know that?”

his heart nearly leaps out of his chest. you’re engaging. you’re curious. and that means he has an in.

he grins, tilting his head, playing it cool. “i have my ways. but if you’re really curious… i could show you.”

and that’s how it starts. how he worms his way into your orbit under the guise of protecting you from some nonexistent ghost. he teaches you about ‘spiritual energy’ (aka whatever nonsense he makes up on the spot), points out ‘ghostly disturbances’ (aka excuses to get closer to you), and warns you about ‘dangerous entities’ (aka any guy who tries to flirt with you).

somewhere along the way, he forgets if he’s even pretending anymore. because honestly? if there was a ghost following you, he wouldn’t even be surprised. you do have that kind of presence. the kind that lingers, that haunts.

and god help him, but he’s completely, utterly obsessed.

mogari’s just sitting there, scrolling on his phone, totally unsuspecting. you watch him, heart doing little flips because he’s so unfairly cute. his dumb little pout, the way his hair flops over his forehead, and gosh you just can’t take it!

so you tackle him.

he makes a startled “geh—!” noise as you latch onto him like a koala, wrapping your arms around his neck. you playfully bite his cheek, not hard, just enough to squeak out your frustration. “you’re too cute,” you mumble, muffled.

“w-what are you doing!?” he’s flustered now, cheeks pink.

you pinch those cheeks. squish squish.

“stop—i’m studying!” he protests, but he’s not really pushing you away.

“oh yeah? studying, huh?” you grin, still squishing his cheeks. “didn’t know being on your phone counted as studying.”

“i-it does!” he sputters, trying to speak properly but you’re smushing his face which isn’t of much help.  “eugene was the one that told me actually.” he says defensively. 

“sure, i believe you.” you grin, before letting go of his face and placing a small kiss on his cheek

tags: @kaidostwin @levihanmyotp @oorosiidinmotive @yvanilaa @neversam @kumasakka @todorokiskitten @estrnrea @happyfoxtechnomancer @manic4mangoes

there’s also a ghost. sitting next to you.

you don’t react. you never really do.

you felt it approach, sure — the brush of air that wasn’t quite wind, the tiny prickle at the back of your neck. but you’re used to it.

you don’t see them.

you don’t hear them.

but you feel them.

you’ve always been able to.

across the path, a group of boys are walking by, half talking over each other. one of them glances over. kanzaki, maybe? you’ve seen him around.

he slows down, stares, then nudges the tall one beside him. “there’s a ghost next to her.”

you don’t hear that part. you’re too busy trying to open your juice box without stabbing the straw straight through the other side.

they all glance over. pause.

you look so calm. like you don’t notice a thing.

zaki mutters something about you being popular. says there’s no way someone like you would be interested in a club like theirs.

eugene raises a brow. tamon shrugs.

mogari just says, “i’m asking anyway.”

and the next second, he’s walking up to you.

no hesitation. no dramatic lead-in.

you blink up when he casts a shadow over your snack pack.

“…uh. hi?”

“do you want to join a ghost club?”

his tone is completely flat.

you stare at him. “what.”

he points to the spot beside you. “there’s a ghost next to you.”

you glance down. blink.

“…yeah?”

“you didn’t freak out,” he says. “most people freak out.”

you poke the air next to you.

“i can’t see them. but they’re kinda… cold. like misty? and i always know when they’re there. it’s just this weird feeling.”

you pause. “kinda like when someone stares at you for too long, you know?”

mogari looks at you like he wasn’t expecting you to get it.

like maybe he thought you’d laugh at him.

but you’re not. you’re being completely serious.

“…we could use someone like you,” he says after a beat.

you smile a little, still holding your juice box. “wow, this the weirdest club invite i’ve ever gotten.”

“is that a yes?”

“hmm… depends. do i get snacks?”

“…maybe.”

you laugh. a real one. kind of bright. kind of dorky.

and mogari just blinks at you, expression unreadable.

back with the others, zaki stares like he’s seeing a ghost too.

he’s not.

just you.

talking to mogari like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

like you were always meant to be part of this.

(Also could the reader be the grumpy one, I think it would be very silly lmao)

mogari’s like a golden retriever in human form, all bright eyes and big smiles, energy practically buzzing off him like static. so it’s no surprise when he flops onto the couch right next to you, half on top of you, limbs everywhere like he’s got no concept of personal space.

“what’re you doing?” you mumble, not even looking up from your phone.

“loving you,” he grins, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. his arm snakes around your waist, his head finding a home in the crook of your neck. “you look like you need it.”

“i don’t,” you deadpan, but you don’t push him away either.

he hums, all warm and content like a cat soaking up sunlight. except he’s not a cat — he’s a clingy golden retriever that won’t stop wiggling around, nuzzling into your shoulder, fingers drumming lazy patterns against your side.

“mogari,” you grumble.

“yep?”

“you’re heavy.”

“mmm, no i’m not,” he says, somehow melting further into you, like he’s determined to fuse into your very being.

you sigh, but it’s not out of annoyance, not really. your hand, almost on instinct, drifts up to thread through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. he makes a happy little noise, like you just handed him the world.

“see?” he mumbles, barely audible now, “you do like me.”

“shut up,” you mutter, but your fingers don’t stop moving.