👑Happy Birthday Nanamin 👑

“atsumu, when i die —”

“no, stop, don’t say that. ‘ya aren’t going to die.” he interrupted you before you could even finish, his gaze burning.

“of course i won’t, i’m immortal!” you joked. and to this, he flashed a small smile.

“but, hypothetically, if i do die, i want you to make my coffin look cute. maybe LED lights? yeah, and —” you were cut off with your rambling by a kiss to your lips. the two of you savoring the fleeting moment, gripping onto his shirt as you felt yourself weaken from his touch.

“yes, angel, i’ll do that okay? now stop yappin’ about ‘ya dying. ‘ya aren’t goin’ to die. i — i won’t even let ‘ya.” he said with so much determination that you couldn’t help but believe him.

your eyes feel heavy. “‘tsumu?”

“hm?” he looks at you, shimmering eyes.

“i’m tired, i wanna go to sleep.”

“oh — okay, sure — i, i love ‘ya, goodnight. let’s talk again tomorrow, m’kay?” he asked, the hope in his voice felt quite cruel to even exist.

“of course, i love you.”

the beeping from the monitor went to a deafening halt. atsumu felt like he was suffocating, the air in his lungs evaporating. you — the air that filled his lungs, the air he breathes, ceased. the shimmer in his eyes turned into tears.

you two never really did get to properly talk again tomorrow, or the day after that, or ever again.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader wc; 900+ genre; fluff a/n; prompt request for @luvnami <33 hope you like it!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The ‘U’ in Ushijima must stand for uncertainty, you’ve come to realize.

You suppose you could say the two of you were ‘dating’ — by a far stretch of the word. That is, if you could consider nightlong FaceTime calls and cheering him on at volleyball games dating.

You hadn’t even realized he was interested in you until Tendou pointed out that no, in fact, it was not normal for the Shiratorizawa ace to be following someone around campus like some love sick puppy,  and no, Tendou has never seen his partner smile, let alone smile at another person.

You had always thought Ushijima was always just… there. But now, he was making his presence known, and suddenly your vision was filled with nothing but him.

And maybe there was something charming about how he always seemed to find you. And you’ve discovered that Ushijima speaks exactly what was on his mind — it comforts you to know that he means what he says, and he says what he means.

And yet, it is exactly this bluntness that’s become the source of your confusion in the first place.

“So, are you guys going out?” Tendou had dared to ask one sunny afternoon during lunch time, picking at his food and staring at the two of you from above his chopsticks.

“Yes,” Ushijima answers instantly, wiping at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Your heart beats faster at the certainty of his words, sharing a surprised glance with Tendou.

That is, until Ushijima says, “Y/N has P.E. after lunch, so I will have to walk her outside.”

You physically had to stop yourself from banging your head on the table.

Tendou was not one to give up so easily though, opting for a more direct approach.

“No, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou sighs out exasperatedly, “I mean, are you guys together?”

You held your breath, wanting to know the answer just as much as the middle blocker did.

“Yes, we are together,” Ushijima says with his usual monotonous voice, though you don’t let yourself get too excited.

“We are eating our lunch together, Satori. Can’t you see?”

The school bell had rung as Tendou began his third attempt, and promptly the conversation had been swept away amongst the crowds of students trying to get back to class.

Keep reading

会いたい: 'cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me

ding!

. . . tsukishima kei. sweeter when i’m with you.

“did you even use a recipe—“

“yes, tsukishima. i did.” you answer.

continuing to apply frosting to your freshly baked cupcakes, you did your best to ignore the man in front of you. culinary class was fun, especially if your class was tasked with making a simple dessert for a graded activity. however, it was not that fun when you have a snarky middle blocker who always had a way to get through your nerves—watching you work throughout the process of creating such a sweet dessert.

even your sweet desserts would turn salty whenever he was around.

kei hums, amused by your response. “did you now?” he replies with that all-knowing smirk plastered on his stupidly good-looking face. “and what happened to calling me by my first name?”

“i changed my mind, that’s all.” you shrug, and he has the audacity to be the one frowning in this conversation. “it’s better to keep things professional, tsukishima. wouldn’t you agree?”

he huffs. “whatever,” he murmurs, propping his elbows on the counter, his head resting on his palm as he gazes up at you—just . . . admiring how you skillfully worked with the fluffy strawberry frosting—not that he’d ever admit it out loud, no way.

with the silence that followed, he quickly grew bored. “can i have some?” kei asks, eyes darting toward the strawberries you had cut specifically in the shape of little hearts for decorations.

“i don’t know, can you? what’s the magic word?”

“fuck you.”

“that’s not the magic word,” you coyly said to him. “i guess i’ll just give these extra strawberries to the volleyball team,” the thought wasn’t a bad one either, “maybe even have hinata or kageyama try these cupcakes i made once it’s graded.”

“no,” he says, slightly glaring at you.

now, it’s your turn to be amused. “no? did i hear that correctly, tsukishima?”

“it’s kei to you,” he corrects, softly this time. his expression was no longer stern, but this time, rather, it was one of slight annoyance and even pouting. “and . . . can i please have the extra strawberries?” he tries again, and for the first time in all the time you’ve known him, he looks at you with this soft, endearing look—as if he were some sort of kicked puppy by the street, begging to be adopted.

“see? it doesn’t kill you to be nicer to me,” you say, feeding him a strawberry or two—which he didn’t mind.

from the other stations, your classmates watched with either surprised or puzzled expressions after they’d witnessed your interaction with kei. even your teacher couldn’t help but ask, “are those two. . . ?” to which your classmates couldn’t answer either.

kei is definitely sweeter when he’s with you.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

"What about you, 'Tsumu?" Ginjima asks. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"Ya mean ya don't think I'd ask fer some stupidly expensive rare high-end food, too?" the blonde replies with a wry smile as their friends laugh and Osamu rolls his eyes with playful offense.

When the laughter tapers off Atsumu says "If I could have anything in the world?...Get whatever I ask fer?..." He lets out a half-chuckle with a crooked smile and admits "I'd take the love of my life."

"Like on a date?" Ginjima asks, pleasantly surprised by the earnest answer.

"Na." Atsumu shakes his head with a cheeky grin. "Like in marriage. Like fer the rest'a ma life."

There are a few people who 'aww' in response, maybe even ask a few questions but you don't hear them or Atsumu's response, suddenly very interested in the contents of your own cup. It doesn't help that Osamu's steely gaze is scrutinizing you from across the room while all the attention is on his brother.

You slip out of the room the first chance you get.

It's not a small birthday party the twins have thrown so there's plenty of people casually filling the living room and kitchen, spilling out into the backyard where there's a fire. Ojiro and a few other guys from the team are sitting around it, talking. There's a myriad of other people from school including some mutual friends but the twins are the main reason you're here and they're unfortunately social. It means you've spent most of the party drifting along the periphery; your presence here was a condition of his parents' permission for the twins to have friends over without supervision.

You smile to yourself fondly remembering Atsumu's loud protest and insult that his parents trusted you more than their own flesh-and-blood to which they responded of course they did; you had much more common sense than a real Miya.

"Ya look like yer havin' a good time."

You don't need to see to know it's Osamu but you turn to give him a look and he chuckles.

"Okay..." He turns a palm toward you. "Maybe not."

"I'm fine." You offer a smile and ask "are you having fun?"

He shrugs. "Eh. Ya know this was mostly 'Tsumu's idea."

With narrowed eyes you retort "you can deny it all you want but you like the attention, too, 'Samu. You're just not as dramatic about it."

"That's fair," he agrees with a smirk. His gaze follows yours, sweeping over the people in the kitchen and the backyard. "Still...not such a bad time."

You give a non-committal shrug.

After a moment of quiet Osamu asks "...ya heard his answer, right?"

"Yeah," you snicker. "And?"

"Well...do ya believe me now?"

You meet his stormy eyes with a roll of your own. "No, 'Samu. All he said was he'd want to marry whoever he loves. He didn't actually say who that was."

"Ya really don't believe me," Osamu says to himself in disappointment with a shake of his head and sighs, exasperated. He falls quiet for a moment as Ojiro and the group around the fire burst into laughter and then perks up with a sudden light in his eyes. "Fine."

Your eyes narrow defensively, recognizing that look.

"Then how about this," the gray twin squarely faces you, "ask him what he wants fer his birthday" --he holds up a hand to quickly cut off your counter-- "on his own. Ask him when it's just tha two of ya an' nobody else. I promise ya he's in love with ya--"

"He's not," you argue, pushing his hand away but he just plows on.

"He is. An' I'll prove it to ya." Osamu levels you with complete sincerity. "Catch him on his own an' ask him again, just the two'a ya, an' he's gonna say tha same thing. He's gonna say it when it really counts, when no one else is lookin' and it's gonna mean somethin' else. An' if on some small odd chance that I'm wrong--which I know I'm not--I'll make bring ya lunch everyday fer the rest of tha year."

You abruptly straighten, eyes wide. "That's like six months of bento."

"If I'm wrong," he smugly replies and crosses his arms. "Which I know I'm not."

Your eyes narrow mouth watering at the tantalizing possibility of so much delicious food and you strongly consider the bet. Because there's no way he could be right.

There's no way that Miya Atsumu, the school's golden boy and nationally recognized setter to whom no one else exists unless they're on the court, the person you've pined over for an unbearably long time

could like you back.

You've seen the number of chocolates and gifts and confessions he's accepted over the years and it's exactly

zero.

"You're on," you answer with your own smug grin. Because zero are exactly the chances that Osamu's right.

Osamu's brow flicks up. "That's it? Ya don't wanna know what I want if I'm right?"

You shrug, crossing your own arms in a mocker of his confidence. "Doesn't matter. Because you're not gonna win."

Osamu leans in, dropping his voice to lay-out your wager with cunningly narrowed eyes.

It's not until the end of the party that you find him.

He's upstairs, having sneaked out to his parent's private balcony where he leans on the railing quietly sipping from a cup and watching the party in shadow.

"'Tsumu?" you quietly ask as a way to announce your arrival. "You okay?"

He turns to face you still leaning on the railing. "Yeah. You?"

You shrug. "I'm fine." You glance down--most of the people are outside now--and ask "you don't want to be with everyone?"

He mimics your shrug. "Just needed ta catch ma breath."

You join him at the railing with a nod feeling an awkward flip of your stomach.

"Somethin' ya needed?" he asks.

"I just wanted to check on you...make sure you were okay," you admit in truth. Your hands idly tap the railing as you try to figure out how to broach the subject. "I didn't get you anything for your birthday."

He waves it off. "I don't need anythin'. Yer the reason we got ta have a party. That's more than enough."

"I guess..." You scrunch your face, heart start to beat a little harder in your chest. Despite your conviction that Osamu's wrong you're having trouble rising to the challenge. "Okay...so if you could have something else for your birthday..."

Atsumu tilts his head, dark brows furrowing as he scrutinizes your discomfort but he doesn't say anything.

"If..." You hesitate, battling the increasing pound of your pulse. "If you could have anything in the world..." You force yourself to meet his golden gaze. "What would you want?"

The setter goes very still. Almost defensively.

"Starting spot on a division-one team. Starting spot in the Olympics. Hell, a gold medal in the Olympics," you offer in his silence. "A billion dollars, a mansion, a yacht, the ability to fly."

He doesn't answer.

"What would you wish for?"

You assume he's just tired of being asked so

why is it so hard to look at him again?

"I'd want..." His voice is low. Tense.

Feeling the foundation of your world shifting you bring your gaze back to him and feel a tidal wave of emotion roll through your body.

"...ta marry ya."

"If I'm right," Osamu's voice echoes in your mind, "ya hafta confess."

Fuck.

Your stomach drops and your head spins as you gulp.

"Okay."

Atsumu is still for another second before he drops his cup and somehow shouts while gasping "HAAAAA?!" He reels back, looking as stunned as you feel.

You pull away, taken aback by his shock.

"WHADDYA MEAN OKAY?!" He starts flailing his arms. "YA CAN'T JUST SAY THAT! YER GONNA GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK!"

"You're the one who started it!" you shout back.

"NO! YER THE ONE WHO CORNERED ME UP HERE WITH YER CUTE...LITTLE...EVERYTHING" --he gestures at you as if you've instigated something nefarious-- "I'M JUST TRYIN'A CATCH MA BREATH AFTER ALREADY ADMITTIN' THAT IN FRONT'A YA ONCE DOWNSTAIRS!"

"Why are you still yelling?!" you shout defensively, still leaning back.

"BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE MY CHEST IS ABOUT TA EXPLODE!" He takes a couple heaving breaths, eyes wide and feverish.

"Are you okay?" you hesitantly ask and he braces himself on the railing, ignoring the fact that the entire party in the yard below is silent and watching.

"Just...just tryin' ta figure out what just happened."

"I think...I agreed to marry you?"

His head whips around. "Ya...Ya really mean it?"

"Yeah..." You shift uncomfortably. "I mean...I don't think we should run out right now but yeah. I'm...I'm in love with you, 'Tsumu. So when we're older and actually ready I'd like to marry y--"

The words are cut off by his lips. Pressed tightly against yours with a hand on your waist and the other cupping your cheek he kisses you like he's trying to receive the words directly from your mouth.

Someone below whistles.

Someone else shouts "get a room!"

"Preferably not our parents'," adds Osamu.

There's a round of laughter but neither of you break the kiss and everyone diverts their attention when it's clear they're all intruding on a now-private moment.

Atsumu's lips take and give as if every passing moment they spend pressed against yours only makes him want you more. He chases after them, stealing a few more seconds, as you pull back and smile.

"We should get back to the party, 'Tsumu."

"But it's ma birthday," he pouts childlishly and tries to kiss you again.

You chuckle and reply "yes and I promised that I'd take care of your birthday party."

Atsumu smirks.

"What?" you ask narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

"I just realized that yer not gonna be ma parents' favorite anymore."

"Oh yeah?" You mirror his smirk. "How so?"

"'Cause. Yer gonna marry me. An' that's gonna make ya a real Miya." He grins victoriously.

"Or I could just not take your last name and remain their favorite," you point out. He gapes until you throw your arms over his shoulders and give him a grin. "Although I'd rather be your favorite so I guess it's worth it."

He grins with you. "'Course it is an' 'course ya are."

"Good." You give him another kiss and step back, quickly adding "besides, changing my last name won't make me as unreliable as you!"

Atsumu gasps, scandalized, as you run away cackling. "Calling your future husband unreliable!!?" He runs after you, shouting "and on his birthday?!"

ding!

. . . ushijima wakatoshi. not one for the romance books.

“you hold feelings for me?”

he’s a bit taken aback by the confession that wakatoshi just couldn’t help but blink for a few seconds, unsure of what to do with this information. dealing with an out-of-the-blue confession before volleyball practice was not on his agenda for today—so what should he do?

there you stood in front of him, fidgeting with your fingers as you couldn’t even meet his gaze, an apprehensive smile on your lips. you’re nervous and unsure of your timing, he assumes. your body language seemed a bit stiff as well and he could tell by this that you weren’t really planning on confessing your feelings to him now.

maybe it was just a sudden change of plans on your end.

but you finally said it; you finally confessed.

“you— you don’t have to reciprocate!” you quickly add, not wanting to force him into anything that makes him uncomfortable or something that he never even considered. “i just,” you took in a short breath, “i just wanted to say it.”

wakatoshi thinks over his words carefully. you’re his classmate and his friend; he doesn’t want to leave you heartbroken, but he’s conflicted about what to say.

it certainly isn’t just turning down someone who confessed to him—he’ll admit that it happened quite often, seeing as how he was well-known all across miyagi—it’s you. he’s going to reject your advances, and the thought made him frown ever so slightly.

“i’m sorry,” he replies, his tone smooth and laced with his familiar stoicism, though if you listen closely, you’ll hear that he really is apologetic. “i can’t say that i feel the same way.”

you waved your hands frantically to reassure him. “no, no! it’s alright, really.” you straighten your composure, a bit sheepish, even awkward, about the situation you conducted with your confession.

he nods, bidding you his goodbyes as he heads to the gym for his afternoon club activity.

you’re left to yourself in the back of your school building, absolutely defeated. you sigh, crouching down, your hands in your head. your thoughts are running a thousand miles per millisecond.

you made a fool of yourself.

you made your friendship with wakatoshi awkward.

you definitely want the ground to swallow you whole right now.

but on the bright side, you confessed. you got the feeling off your chest, and that counts for something, right?

though the scene that just happened was not one for the romance books. you slightly blame the romance shows and media you’ve been hooked on, but what else could you do?

wakatoshi does not feel the same way.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

"hi rudolph." you greeted atsumu with a laugh, poking your finger against the tip of his nose, which was tinged a light shade of red by the winter air.

"oh, shut up." atsumu retorted, though the corners of his mouth curved up into a small smile. you leaned in, gently booping his nose with your finger again, causing him to crack into a wide grin.

he pulled your hand away from his face before you could squish his nose for a third time, opting to fit it snugly in his own. "i couldn’t find my scarf." he explained with a sigh, "i swear i saw it in the closet just the other day."

"oh?" you bit the inside of your cheek, quickly clearing your throat with an innocent smile. "well, that's weird."

"i know, right?" atsumu exclaimed, waving his arms around dramatically, "it was right in front of me—"

atsumu's voice slowly trailed off and he stopped dead in his tracks, body frozen still on the sidewalk. his eyes bore straight into yours, mouth agape with incredulity as his gaze slowly trailed down your features to your neck, where a warm scarf happily resided upon.

not just any scarf.

his scarf.

you watched his eyes slowly widening in realisation, comically, even, as they darted in disbelief between the scarf hanging around your neck, to your eyes, and back.

a wave of laughter escaped from you at the look of blatant shock flashing across his face. looping your arms around his neck, you pulled him down to press a kiss onto his flushed nose, then a peck on his cheek, and another one onto his slightly chapped lips.

"hey!" atsumu grumbled against your lips, gently pushing you away with a slight frown. "you took my scarf?"

"it was cold." you explained with a sheepish smile, arms still looped loosely around his neck while his now rested on your hips. "plus your scarf smells nice."

atsumu shook his head with a defeated smile. "what am i going to do with you." he muttered under his breath.

"you could give me your scarf forever." you suggested, sweeping a few stray strands of hair away from his face.

"you wish. buy your own one."

"that's mean, 'tsumu." you chided lightheartedly.

"meaner than leaving me to freeze to death?" atsumu questioned, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"fine." you huffed, reaching up for the scarf that hung securely around your neck.

his brows furrowed together as he watched you unravel half of the scarf from your neck. before he could voice his confusion, or rather, his concern that you should keep wearing the scarf in this cold weather, you tugged him closer by the collar of his jacket, successfully wrapping the other half of the scarf around his neck.

"so we're both warm." you announced proudly, your voice slightly muffled by the scarf.

atsumu chuckled, a tender smile adorning his features. he pulled you in by the waist, effectively closing in the distance between the two of you. "it's not going to work like this." he whispered. his forehead was now pressed against yours, puffs of his warm breath mingling together with yours in the cold air.

"then what do you propose?"

he smirked, a glint of mischief sparkling in his eyes as he suddenly turned around without warning. crouching down a little, he picked you up onto his back in one swift motion, tucking your legs just above his hips. somehow, even with all that movement, his scarf still lay firmly above both of your shoulders.

"does this work?" he asked. though he had already begun to take a few strides forward.

"yeah. i guess it does." you laughed, resting your head comfortably on his shoulder.

it was at that moment that atsumu decided he didn't mind if you stole his scarf. he didn't mind it at all. as long as you were willing to share it with him.

ding!

. . . gojo satoru. to me, to you.

note. vague manga spoilers ahead. i’d love to elaborate more on this dynamic; please let me know if you want me to as well.

satoru does not remember much of his childhood.

to him, memories of forever ago are left as though they were faded film strips, too damaged to even try and make something out of them. he doesn’t dwell on that part of his life because all he could ever recall was when he’s enlightened of his fate and the omnipotent power he possesses from a very young age.

but he did, however, catch a glimpse and managed to hold on—cling to—a few of the good ones.

and those memories were mostly with you.

“someone’s lost in their train of thought.” he hears your voice approaching from behind. he merely shrugs his shoulders, relaxing against the marble railing of his estate’s balcony.

“mm. yeah, guess i am.”

you offered him a can of soda—his favorite brand and flavor—that you brought with you. satoru’s lips curled into a small smirk as he awed at the thought of you remembering despite almost two decades of not seeing each other.

“you remembered.”

“of course. why wouldn’t i?” you reply with a quick, feeble chuckle. “you always used to nag me about how you could only ever enjoy a few sodas.”

“i just have preferences,” he tells you with a slight nudge to your side. “and it just so happened to be very specific.” he glances at the can he held, and though he had his blindfold on, he could still tell that you got it right; you got it down to a t. “i knew you loved me.”

“in your dreams.”

“mhm. in my dreams, indeed.”

“oh, god. i hate you.”

“i knew you missed me.”

you rolled your eyes at his remark, glancing at his soda, then taking a gulp of your own. “still your favorite, right?”

satoru doesn’t know what you’re referring to. whether you’re asking if you’re still his favorite or the soda, though he does have a concrete answer.

“yep! you’re so thoughtful, even though you pretend to have not missed me.”

“don’t feed your little ego, ‘toru. your head’s going to keep on expanding until it’s the size of a hot air balloon.”

“hey!”

conversations breeze by like the chilly night air, creeping in and making their way known. he thinks this is the most he’s ever felt like he’s home. his childhood home, a haven where he felt safe and could truly live a life that his younger self was deprived of duty to a handful of “duties” and whatnot.

it’s like the calm before the storm. the rest—his rest—before he takes on something that he should’ve dealt with a long, long time ago. he’s not afraid, oh no.

because he is satoru, after all. the strongest.

and then the memory of someone he also held close to his heart replays, like a sudden alarm that wanted to remind him.

“are you the strongest because you’re gojo satoru? or are you gojo satoru because you’re the strongest?”

“a penny for thought?” you ask, noticing his sudden quietness.

he perks up, a bit stunned in place. “just a question,” he sighs, setting his drink aside for later. “who am i to you?”

he thinks it’s stupid because he’ll always feel that there’s a barrier that separates him from others. from you. because he’s the strongest, and that’s what it means to be the strongest, right? to feel as though you’re being distanced from everybody else.

“who you are . . . to me?” you said, tilting your head to the side. “like, how i see you?”

“yes.”

god, satoru swallows the lump in his throat, anticipation clinging to his whole body as he waits.

“oh, well . . .”

he expected a handful of answers, but none of them ever came close to yours.

“is it weird that i still feel like i’m talking to fifteen-year-old you?” you told him. “it’s like my mind’s still processing to bridge the gap of our memories together; to fill in the years we haven’t seen each other, y’know?”

“i see you as ‘toru. and to me, you are just ‘toru. that same ‘toru who i’ve been with since when we’re literally in diapers,

who kept on annoying me to wear matching pajamas when we were kids for the sleepover he begged his parents to agree to,

that same ‘toru who was spoiled to the core that he was so surprised that he went quiet when little me decided that they were over it with your incessant whining of wanting to play on the seesaw when they wanted to play on the sand box,

thee ‘toru who’s eyes almost always surprised me during the most random times, in a good way, of course.”

ah, now he remembers. those good memories, which were probably his core ones.

“you’re satoru—no, ‘toru,” you hum, thrumming your finger against the marble top. “my best friend. not the strongest sorcerer, not the wielder of the six eyes, not the teacher at jujutsu tech, but just ‘toru. my ‘toru. ”

satoru swore he’d lost his voice upon listening to your answer. and suddenly he feels as though he were a little kid again, looking at you with the utmost adoration—slight infatuation, even—as you told him through his little tears that it was normal to scrape his knee when he’s learning to ride a bike to be able to join you!

“thanks,” he says with a chuckle. “didn’t know i needed to hear all of that until now.”

“don’t mention it, ‘toru,” you nod. “ah, now that sounded sappy. ew! bleh, thought i left all of that behind.”

“heh, i like it when you’re a sap,” he mused.

“of course you do. but we have a lot to catch up on, so you better not die out there, mr. sorcerer.”

he smiles at that. “yeah. i’ll keep that in mind.”

“you still have those big, blue eyes you always used to get out of trouble?”

“knew you missed my eyes, too.”

“do not. you sure they’re not neon green now?”

“ha. ha. funny.” for a moment, he takes his time to remove his blindfold, his hand shaking a little as he does so. he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

“look.”

satoru notices the way you paused, examining how his features have matured over the years, and yet he’s still the satoru you knew. your ‘toru, as you said so yourself.

“eh. put the blindfold back on.”

“y/n!”

“i’m just saying,” you laugh a little. “your eyes haven’t changed; still as ethereal as ever.” you slid your half-empty soda next to his, signaling that you wanted him to finish yours. he’s known this for so long.

“let’s catch up again when you’re free, ok? i already gave you my number, right?”

he glances at the can, seeing the number—your number—written against the glossy layer. “yeah, do you want me to walk you home?” he offers, soft and warm.

you shook your head. “some other time, ‘toru.”

he nods in understanding as he watches you leave. as you fade alongside the background, slowly yet surely, satoru’s memories of his childhood are rekindled, outdoing his dim ones.

he’s glad that you’re home.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

Gojo: Must be hard not being able to laugh

Nanami: I do have a sense of humor you know

Gojo: I’ve never heard you laugh before

Nanami: I’ve never heard you say anything funny

i am in severe distress. i am vibing. i am king of the world. i am bored. i am lost at sea. i am making coffee. i am foraging in the forest. i am making tea. i am chasing pigeons. i am napping in a chair