Jjk Utahime - Blog Posts

profiles pt.3 || extras

m.list || yn’s group - 2etherial - posts

A/N-

・Gojo and Geto’s lore/jobs are HEAVILY inspired by this one headcannon/drabble i saw about gojo accidentally becoming an influencer-and it kills me that i dont remember who wrote it

・Amanai is actually yn’s cousin, not too closely related but they met eachother at a family gathering one time and have been joined at the hip since-and yes they DO call eachother before a gathering to make sure the other is going

@sereniteav @iamyujisbitch @sad-darksoul @scrappedup @taelattecookie @kenmakodz @lacrimae-lotos

Capa para a fanfic “The Holligan” escrito por Macaulayculkin para a seção de Jujutsu Kaisen, fanfic com foco nos personagens Utahime e Gojo Satoru.

Se inspire! Não copie! Manipulação feita por mim e Artes Oficiais utilizadas. Créditos aos donos de todos os recursos utilizados como renders, backgrounds e psd’s.

utahime would benefit from having a super whipped gf

like yes, you tease her sometimes and it’s cute and sweet and silly but the second her tone gets even a little serious you’re shutting the fuck up and listening!!

like okay okay. making out w her right. it’s messy and a little loud and your grip on her hips is just a little too tight but she doesn’t mention it. she pulls away from the kiss, breathing out a small “need you” against your lips.

you kinda just cock your head to the side and smile a bit. “you already have me, ‘hime.” it was a small tease, just something silly and playful to irk her a little.

ohhh but the way she looks at you after you say that… her pretty eyes are all hazy and her brows are slightly furrowed. “no, i need all of you. please.” she’s not even frustrated with you, she just needs you in any way she can get you. what else can you do other than nod and bend to her every whim? and god, if you didn’t feel bad for making your girl feel like she had to beg for what she wanted.

so OBVIOUSLY u pay her back by making her squirt all over ur face. duh.

Hear me out: Gojoy and Suboredom! And Angryhime

it's 6am and I need to sleep but skhm..

⋆˚✿˖° ❝it feels crowded❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

────୨ৎ────

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Geto Suguru x Reader

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4. How it feels to be a girl and do no wrong

masterlist

update! i’m back from vacation but i offer you this with what little time I have.

…

Your dorm was warm and cozy, lit softly by the glow of a few fairy lights strung along the walls. The scent of popcorn and sugary snacks filled the air, and laughter spilled freely between you, Shoko, and Utahime as the three of you lounged around the room.

It had been a few days since your night out at the arcade and ramen shop, but the memory still lingered in your mind specifically, the way Geto had acted, the way Gojo had been off. And based on the way Shoko kept smirking at you, you had a strong suspicion she knew exactly what you’d been overthinking.

“Alright, but hear me out,” Utahime said, sitting cross legged on the floor as she carefully painted your nails. “What if, just once, in a horror movie, the characters actually had some common sense?”

You snorted, blowing on the nails she had already finished. “Then the movie would be ten minutes long.”

“Exactly,” Shoko chimed in, sprawled lazily across your bed, a cigarette tucked between her fingers. “The second a single door creaks on its own? I’m out. No investigation. No ‘who’s there?’ Just immediate evacuation.”

Utahime grinned. “See, that’s why we’d all survive.”

You hummed. “Not if one of us trips.”

Shoko flicked her lighter absently. “You’d trip.”

You gasped, “I’m super adept.”

Utahime giggled. “You did trip at the arcade that one day.”

“That was once!” you protested, then immediately regretted it when Shoko and Utahime exchanged a look.

“Oh yeah,” Shoko drawled, her smirk widening. “Speaking of the arcade…”

Utahime sighed, putting the nail polish down and leaning back on her hands. “We’ve been nice and patient, but now you have to tell us.” You blinked. “Tell you what?”

Utahime gave you a deadpan look. “Don’t play dumb.” Shoko grinned, propping herself up on her elbows. “How’s it feel to have both Gojo and Geto all over you?”

Your face immediately heated up. “They were not—” “Please,” Shoko cut you off. “Geto was practically glued to your side, and Gojo looked like he wanted to launch him into orbit.”

Utahime hummed. “He was acting weird, wasn’t he?” You frowned, thinking back to Gojo’s quiet mood after dinner, the way he had trailed a step behind when you and Geto had walked back together.

“He’s been weird ever since,” Shoko mused, tapping ash into an empty cup. “More annoying than usual.”

“He’s probably just being dramatic,” you muttered, trying to ignore the way something in your stomach twisted.

Utahime gave you a patient look. “And Geto?”

You hesitated. Geto had been different too. More intentional with his words, with his actions. The memory of him draping his jacket over your shoulders flashed in your mind, unbidden.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s just… Geto’s always smooth. But lately, it’s like he’s actually trying.” Utahime nodded thoughtfully, while Shoko smirked. “And you like it.” “I didn’t say that!”

Utahime raised an eyebrow. “But you don’t hate it.” You groaned, flopping backward onto the bed, covering your face with a pillow. “Why are we even talking about this?”

Shoko chuckled, tossing a piece of popcorn at you. “Because it’s fun watching you squirm.” You lifted the pillow just enough to glare at her. “I hate you.” She grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Utahime leaned back, stretching her arms over her head. “Well, either way, something’s happening.”

You let out a long sigh. “Nothing is happening.” “Yet,” Shoko corrected, looking far too pleased with herself.

You groaned again, dragging the pillow back over your face. This sleepover was supposed to be relaxing. Instead, you were going to lose your mind. Utahime stretched, letting out a content sigh as she leaned back against the bed. “Well, whatever’s going on, you’re gonna have to deal with it eventually.”

You groaned, still partially buried under your pillow. “Or I could just ignore it forever.”

Shoko snorted. “Yeah, because that always works.” Utahime shook her head, about to say something else when she suddenly froze. Her eyes narrowed, her head tilting slightly as she peered toward the chair in the corner of your room.

“Wait a second.”

You sat up a little, frowning. “What?”

Utahime’s gaze flicked back to you, her expression sharpening with curiosity. “That jacket.” Your stomach immediately dropped. You followed her line of sight straight to the familiar black jacket draped over the back of your chair. Geto’s jacket. The same one he had casually thrown over your shoulders a few nights ago. The one you had fully intended to return but had somehow… forgotten about.

Utahime slowly turned back to you, her smirk growing with every passing second. “Is that Geto’s?” Shoko, who had previously been lounging, suddenly perked up. She squinted at the jacket, then at your increasingly guilty expression. Then, in perfect sync with Utahime, she let out a dramatic gasp.

“Oh my god.”

“No,” you said immediately, face heating up. “It’s not—”

“It so is,” Utahime cut in, sitting up straighter. “Why is it still here?”

“I—” You floundered for an explanation, your brain working overtime. “I just… forgot to give it back.”

Shoko smirked while laughing. “You forgot?”

“Yes!”

Utahime grinned, standing up to grab the jacket off the chair. She turned it over in her hands, inspecting it like it held the secrets of the universe. “I bet it even smells like him.”

“Utahime!” you yelped, reaching to snatch it from her. She easily dodged, waving it out of reach. “Oh, this is rich.”

Shoko propped her chin in her hand, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “So. You’ve just been keeping it? Sleeping next to it? Maybe wearing it when you miss him?” You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I hate both of you.”

“Please,” Utahime said, shaking the jacket for emphasis. “This is gold.”

Shoko hummed thoughtfully. “You should return it, y’know. Maybe personally.”

You squinted at her. “You just want to watch me suffer.”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed, smirking.

Utahime threw the jacket over your head with a dramatic flourish. “Well, either way, you should probably return it before people start asking questions.” You peeked out from under the fabric, pouting. “You two are the worst.” Shoko shrugged. “And yet, with all this going on I might have to steal you for myself.”

Utahime grinned, flopping back onto the bed. “Now, be honest how many times have you worn it?”

You launched a pillow at her face. Unfortunately, that only made them laugh harder.

—

“This is nice,” Utahime murmured, admiring her work. “Quiet. Relaxing. No responsibilities.”

Shoko let out a content sigh, stretching her legs over the arm of the couch. “No early missions, no annoying teachers, no one yelling. Just peace.”

You hummed in agreement, flipping lazily through a magazine, barely paying attention to the pages. “We should do this more often.”

Utahime nodded. “Definitely. We always talk about it, but we never actually set time aside.”

“That’s because every time we plan, something interrupts it.” Shoko cracked one eye open, smirking. “Remember the last time? We barely made it through a movie before—”

“No,” you cut in quickly. “We are not bringing up last time.”

“That’s fair.” Shoko yawned, stretching her arms over her head before slumping back down. “So, what’s the plan? Are we just hanging out, or are we doing something fun?”

You glanced around at the mess of snacks and nail polish. “I thought this was the fun part.”

Shoko waved a dismissive hand. “No, no. I mean, like, real fun. Something chaotic. Utahime, you’re too responsible when’s the last time you did something reckless?”

Utahime narrowed her eyes. “You’re acting like I’m some kind of” She paused, then sighed. “You know what? It’s been a while.” Shoko grinned. “See? I knew it. Let’s do something.”

Utahime raised a brow. “Like what?”

Shoko turned to you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You got any ideas?” You glanced between them, already sensing that something was about to spiral out of control. “…I might have one.”

“i don’t like that look you’re giving” utahime lets out quietly

Shoko smirked, sitting up properly now, clearly entertained. “No, no, let’s hear them out. If they’ve got that look, it means this is gonna be good.” You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “Well, we could sneak into Gojo’s room and mess with his stuff.”

Utahime sighed, already rubbing her temples. “Why is your first instinct always to start problems?”

“Because it’s fun?” Shoko answered for you, already getting excited. “What are you thinking? Classic prank? Rearranging his furniture? Stealing something important?”

“Oh, stealing is good,” you mused. “Imagine if we took his sunglasses. He’d lose his mind.”

“He would,” Shoko agreed. “What about his hair gel? You know he goes through, like, a bottle a week.”

Utahime groaned. “I’m not getting involved in this.”

“Oh, come on,” you nudged her. “It’s harmless. He deserves it after all the times he’s annoyed you.”

Utahime hesitated, glancing away. “…He has been worse than usual lately.”

Shoko grinned, sensing the shift. “See? Exactly. Think of it as justice.”

Utahime huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming both of you.”

Shoko threw an arm around her shoulders. “That’s the spirit!”

The plan was simple: sneak in, steal something mildly important, and leave before Gojo even noticed. But in true you, Shoko, and Utahime fashion things did not go as planned

The plan was simple: sneak into Gojo’s room, take something mildly important, and leave before he even noticed. Given how messy he usually was, you figured it’d be easy just rummage through the and swipe something small. But the second you pushed open the door, all three of you froze.

“…What the hell?” Utahime muttered.

Shoko blinked. “Did we walk into the wrong room?”

Gojo’s dorm was… immaculate. No scattered clothes. No empty snack wrappers. His bed was made, his desk was organized, and even his infinity scarves were neatly folded on a shelf. The air smelled faintly of fabric softener, like he had just done laundry. You turned to your friends, wide eyed. “Did he hire someone to clean?”

Utahime shook her head, suspicious. “This has to be a trap.”

Shoko whistled, walking inside. “Or he finally got sick of living like a raccoon.” Stepping further in, you carefully looked around. It was unsettling this was not the Gojo you knew. No mess , no clutter, no sense of a human disaster living here.

“…I feel like we should leave something messy just to restore balance,” you murmured.

Utahime crossed her arms. “Focus. We need to find something valuable before he comes back.”

Shoko flopped onto his bed dramatically. “What even counts as valuable to Gojo?” As if on cue, Utahime spotted something small and very out of place on his desk a tiny, pink, bunny shaped scrunchie.

She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. “What is this?”

Shoko sat up. “Since when does Gojo own a scrunchie?”

“I don’t know, but it does not fit his whole thing,” Utahime said, looking scandalized. You smirked. “Which means it’s sentimental. Perfect.”

Shoko grinned. “Stealing it is the only logical course of action.”

Before you could celebrate your victory, disaster struck. Footsteps. Approaching. From right outside the door.

“Shit” you hissed.

“Hide!” Utahime whisper yelled.

All three of you scrambled like cockroaches when a light turns on. Shoko dived under the bed, Utahime pressed herself inside the closet, and you flattened against the wall near the door. The knob turned. Gojo stepped in, stretching. He yawned, rubbing his eyes as he scanned the room.

“…Weird,” he muttered. He took a slow step inside, glancing around. Your breath caught. His gaze narrowed slightly. “mmm something is off?” You stayed completely still. Shoko, from under the bed, barely stifled a laugh. Gojo exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Maybe I’m just paranoid.” He turned, reaching for his blindfold on the desk, then froze.

His fingers hovered over the empty spot where the pink scrunchie had been. Slowly, his head turned. “…Where is it?” Your stomach dropped. Gojo knew.

His entire posture shifted casual suspicion replaced by immediate certainty. His eyes flickered as he scanned the room, brows furrowing. Utahime was dead silent in the closet. Shoko wasn’t even breathing under the bed. Gojo’s gaze lingered on the doorway. Then, he smirked.

“I knew I felt something off.” Crap. Time to run. The second without thinking, you bolted. Gojo moved fast too fast but you had a head start, and you weren’t about to go down without a fight. You dodged past him, sprinting out the door and down the hallway, gripping the stolen scrunchie in your fist like it was some kind of prized treasure.

“Hey!” Gojo’s voice rang out, way too delighted for someone who had just been robbed. “Get back here, thief!”

You didn’t look back. Behind you, you could hear Utahime and Shoko dying of laughter, but they had chosen self preservation over loyalty, leaving you to fend for yourself. You turned a sharp corner, barely avoiding crashing into a stack of textbooks outside Yaga’s office, and kept running, your breath coming in short gasps.

But Gojo wasn’t even trying. That was the worst part he wasn’t sprinting after you, wasn’t calling on his infinity to stop you in your tracks. He was just strolling down the hall like he had all the time in the world, like he was playing some slow, inevitable game of cat and mouse.

“You know I can catch you whenever I want, right?” You didn’t dignify that with an answer. Your plan? Unclear. Your only goal? Survive. But the second you made it to the stairwell, you felt it, A shift in the air. An invisible force coiling around you like a net.

Oh, shit.

Before you could take another step, your body stopped moving. You weren’t frozen, exactly just stuck, like something was gently pressing you in place. Gojo’s infinity. A heartbeat later, he was behind you, leaning down to speak right next to your ear.

“You really thought you could get away?”

His voice was smug. Too smug. You turned your head slightly, glaring. “That’s unfair.”

“All’s fair in love and war,” he shot back easily. Then, after a pause, “Wait, which one is this?”

You groaned. “Just take your stupid scrunchie back.” But instead of snatching it away, he just rested his chin on your shoulder, peering at the pink fabric in your hand. “You really wanted this that badly?”

You felt your face heat. “It was part of a game!”

“Oh? And what exactly was the game?”

You refused to answer. Gojo chuckled, finally releasing his technique so you could move again. But before you could shove the scrunchie back at him, he reached up, plucking it from your fingers with a satisfied hum.

Then, to your shock, he casually stretched it over his wrist.

You stared. “You’re actually wearing it?”

“Why not?” He grinned, holding up his hand like he was showing off some expensive bracelet. “Looks cute, right?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then groaned. “You are so annoying.”

He just beamed, rocking back on his heels. “Admit it you’re impressed I caught you.”

You scowled. “I let you catch me.”

Gojo barked out a laugh. “Oh, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You turned on your heel, storming off, because if you stayed any longer, he’d probably say something even more ridiculous

.

But just as you reached the door, you heard his voice again, softer this time.

“See you later, thief.”

And then he walked away, leaving you standing there, flustered, as the warmth in your chest refused to go away.

—-

The memory was old, so old that Gojo sometimes wondered if it was real or just something his brain made up over time. But no, he knew it had happened. He could still hear the sound of your voice, tiny and full of determination, and he could still remember how warm the summer air had felt against his skin that day.

It was before Geto, before Shoko before either of you had anyone else. Just two kids, running around the vast Satoru estate, where everything was too big and too quiet and too lonely.

Gojo had been sulking. He didn’t even remember why. Maybe one of the servants had scolded him for sneaking sweets before dinner. Maybe his father had said something about being stronger or better or more than what he already was. Or maybe he was just having one of those days where being Gojo Satoru felt way too heavy for a little kid to carry.

Whatever the reason, he had plopped down onto the wooden engawa outside his house, legs dangling over the edge, arms crossed over his chest. His sunglasses too big for his face back then had slid slightly down his nose, but he was too grumpy to push them back up. like always, you appeared.

Marching straight up to him with something clutched tightly in your tiny fist, you stopped in front of him and huffed. “Satoru.”

Gojo barely glanced at you. “What?”

“Hold out your hand.”

He squinted at you, suspicious. “Why?”

“Just do it!”

He let out the world’s most dramatic sigh, but finally, he held out his palm. Immediately, you shoved something soft and fabric-y into it. Gojo blinked, looking down. A scrunchie. Pink. With little bunny ears on it.

He stared. Then stared harder. “…What?”

You crossed your arms, standing tall well, as tall as a little kid could stand. “It’s for you.”

Gojo wrinkled his nose. “A scrunchie?”

“Yeah.” Without waiting for an invitation, you flopped down next to him, swinging your legs over the edge of the engawa. “My mom said I have too many, so I decided to give this one away.”

Gojo frowned. “Why to me?”

You gave him a look, like the answer was so obvious. “Because you always complain about your hair.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. “…No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

Then, to Gojo’s absolute horror, you scrunched up your face and mimicked him in a high pitched, exaggerated voice:

“Ugh, my hair’s in my face! Ugh, it’s so annoying!”

Gojo gasped. “I DO NOT sound like that.” “You totally do.”

He scowled, clutching the scrunchie like it had personally offended him. “Well still! It’s pink!” You shrugged. “So?” “And it’s got bunny ears!” “So?” Gojo was flabbergasted. “It’s it’s cute!”

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “Satoru. You have white hair and wear sunglasses indoors. I don’t think a pink scrunchie is your biggest problem.”

Gojo gawked at you. “huh!”

You just grinned, all mischief and sunshine. “Besides, it’s practical.” You swung your feet again, bumping his knee. “You always get annoyed when your hair’s in your eyes, right? Just use it when no one’s looking.”

Gojo glanced down at the scrunchie again.

It was practical… and soft… and warm from your hands… and something about the fact that you gave it to him made his face feel kinda hot. He grumbled under his breath, stuffing it deep into his pocket like he was hiding evidence. “…Fine. But if anyone asks, I stole it from you.”

You laughed, bright and clear. “Sure, Satoru. Whatever makes you feel better.”

—

Gojo sat on his bed, rolling the same pink scrunchie between his fingers. The bunny ears were slightly bent, the fabric worn from time, but it was still intact.just like the memory.

He sighed, rubbing a thumb over the soft fabric. You didn’t even remember giving this to him.

Figures. He closed his fist around it, holding it close. It was his, after all.

Gojo sat cross legged in the middle of the wide, empty field behind the estate. The sun was beginning to dip, stretching his shadow out long and thin on the grass. Summer air clung to him, sticky and warm, and the cicadas’ endless chorus buzzed in his ears. He stared at the ground, fingers absently picking at the grass, his mind heavy with everything and nothing at once.

His dad’s voice still echoed in his ears, sharp, cutting, never satisfied. The words blurred together in his head, a tangled mess of expectations he didn’t ask for.

Footsteps crunched softly behind him, but he didn’t bother to look up. No one else came out here except for you.

“Hey,” you greeted, voice cautious but casual. “Why’d you run off like that?”

Gojo grunted, still plucking at the grass. “Dunno.”

You plopped down beside him without hesitation, legs folded neatly under you. There was a beat of silence as you looked at him, waiting for him to say more, but when he didn’t, you spoke up again.

“You ran off right after your dad yelled at you,” you pointed out, like it was obvious.

Gojo’s fingers stilled. He ripped a piece of grass and tossed it away. “So what?”

“So, it clearly bothered you.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

You huffed, exasperated but amused. “Liar. I know when something’s bothering you.”

Gojo finally looked at you, a half hearted glare behind those too big sunglasses. “You think you know everything.”

You grinned, unphased. “Yeah, ‘cause I do. I’m a gojo expert.”

Gojo’s lips twitched almost a smile. Almost. The two of you sat there, listening to the cicadas fill the silence. Gojo went back to tearing up the grass, and you leaned back on your hands, tilting your head to the sky.

“Y’know,” you began casually, “I don’t get why you always pretend you’re fine when you’re not.” Gojo’s jaw tightened. The sunglasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them back up, a barrier between you and the storm brewing in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” you countered softly, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “You’re my friend.”

Friend. That word made his chest feel weird too tight and too light all at once. It was easier to be Gojo Satoru, The Strongest, than to be just Gojo Satoru, a kid whose family thought “the strongest” was all he ever had to be.

“I’m not supposed to need friends,” he muttered. “I’m supposed to be the strongest.”

You looked at him, tilting your head a little. “Yeah, but being the strongest doesn’t mean you have to be alone, dummy.”

Gojo’s fingers stopped picking at the grass. The weight of his father’s expectations pressed down on his shoulders be stronger, be better, be more but your voice cut through the noise, steady and certain.

“Besides,” you added, nudging his shoulder with your own, “I think even the strongest person needs someone. Maybe even especially the strongest person.”

Gojo’s throat felt tight. He wanted to argue, to tell you that you didn’t get it, that no one did but then he looked at you, and you were just sitting there, legs swinging a little, your gaze soft but stubborn. You didn’t pity him; you were just there, like always.

Your hand reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist gently. Gojo glanced down, staring at the way your fingers curled around his skin. It was grounding a touch that reminded him he was still here, still a person, not just some untouchable concept of strength.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, voice light but sincere. “Even if you keep acting like a grumpy old man.”

A laugh snorted out of him before he could stop it. “I don’t act like a grumpy old man.”

“Yes, you do,” you teased, a playful smirk curling your lips. “You sulk and mutter under your breath like you’re eighty.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re just annoying,” he shot back, but there was no bite in his voice.

You laughed, bright and clear, the sound blending with the cicadas. The sun had dipped a little lower now, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. The world felt quieter, softer, and Gojo’s heart didn’t feel as heavy as before. The two of you sat there until the sun sank below the horizon and the air began to cool. When it was finally time to head back, you stood up first, offering your hand to help him up. Gojo looked at your outstretched hand, then at your face determined and patient.

He took it, your grip warm and steady.

“Come on, old man,” you teased, pulling him to his feet. “Dinner’s gonna get cold, and you know the staff’ll lecture you again.”

Gojo rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked into a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

But as the two of you walked back, your arms swinging between you,

——

The sun was setting over Jujutsu High, bleeding orange and gold across the sky. The air was warm and heavy, the end of another long day hanging lazily over the campus. Shoko leaned against the window frame of the common room, a cigarette balanced between her fingers, the smoke curling lazily upward.

Geto sat on the windowsill, his back against the frame and one leg drawn up while the other hung outside. His gaze was fixed on the training grounds below, where you and Gojo were supposed to be training though it looked more like Gojo was just finding new ways to annoy you.

“Do they ever actually take this seriously?” Shoko mused, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.

Geto huffed out a quiet laugh, but there was a heaviness to it. “If they did, they wouldn’t be themselves.”

Down below, Gojo had his infinity up, that smirk plastered on his face. Every time you tried to hit him, he’d lean back just enough for your fist to miss. His sunglasses had slid down his nose, but he didn’t bother fixing them.

“C’mon, try harder!” he teased, voice bright and taunting. “I thought you said you were getting stronger!”

“Oh, I am,” you shot back, grinning even as your frustration grew. “You just need to stop being a coward and drop your technique!”

“Ha! As if!” Gojo laughed, effortlessly sidestepping your next swing. “You’d have to make me!”

Without warning, you lunged forward and grabbed the front of his uniform. His eyes widened, a flicker of surprise breaking through his cockiness just before you yanked him down. The two of you tumbled to the ground, a heap of limbs and laughter, dust clouding around you.

Gojo’s dramatic yelp echoed through the courtyard, followed by your triumphant, breathless laughter.

Shoko snorted softly, shaking her head. “Idiots.”

Geto watched the two of you tangled up on the ground, his smile faint but strained. There was a bittersweet weight to it, a quiet sort of resignation.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes still on Gojo’s bright, careless grin. “They are.”

Shoko took another drag of her cigarette, her eyes glancing sideways at Geto. The way he watched the two of you there was something there, a thread of something unspoken and conflicted.

“They’ve always been like that,” she said, testing the waters. “Even before we got mixed in.”

Geto’s gaze lingered on the two of you, Gojo’s arm now slung over your shoulders while you tried to shove him off, your mock protests drowned out by his laughter. There was a time when that laughter had been his, something that had belonged to just the two of them. Before everything had gotten so complicated. Before he began to see the cracks in the world that Gojo seemed so effortlessly above.

“Yeah,” Geto replied softly, voice tight. “They have.”

Shoko watched him carefully, the corner of her mouth curving into a smirk that was almost sympathetic. “Getting sentimental, Suguru?”

He scoffed, the sound sharper than usual. “No. Just thinking.”

“About?” He didn’t answer right away, his eyes still fixed on Gojo’s grin, the same one that used to be mirrored by his own. Used to be.

“Nothing,” he finally muttered, turning away from the window. “It’s nothing.”

Shoko watched him retreat, her gaze lingering on his back before drifting back to you and Gojo. Gojo had finally let you up, his head thrown back as he laughed, and you were swatting at him, a grin breaking through your faux irritation.

The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching long across the courtyard. Shoko took another drag of her cigarette, her eyes thoughtful. In the quiet space between laughter and cicadas, there was something heavy something that Geto couldn’t bring himself to name.

@pandabiene5115 @inthedarkshadows000

⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

Unintended study breaks

────୨ৎ────

Gojo Satoru X Reader

Geto Suguru X Reader

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Synopsis: In a world of curses and power struggles take center stage, you’ve always kept to the simple aspects of life. Focussing on your studies, your friendships and life in the dorms. Though everything changes when Geto challenges Gojo that he can’t win your heart and what happens when Geto realizes that Gojo needs to lose.

WORD COUNT: 4K +words bc i forgot

₍^. .^₎⟆ The second year Jujutsu students myself, Gojo, Geto, Shoko, and a beautiful cute underclass Utahime were gathered in the common area, theoretically doing homework. In reality, we were doing everything but homework.

Gojo, lying upside down on the couch with his legs over the backrest, was dramatically tossing popcorn into the air and trying to catch it with his mouth. He had a zero percent success rate, but he never gave up. Shoko was sprawled across the floor, using a pile of textbooks as a pillow, idly flicking through a medical journal like it was a fashion magazine. Geto was sitting properly at the table, actually doing his homework like a responsible human being, while Utahime sat beside him, aggressively erasing something from her worksheet with the energy of someone who hated their life choices.

I was sandwiched between Gojo and the armrest, trying to copy Geto’s notes with out it being to obvious.

“Pfft bro.” Gojo suddenly sat up (well, tried to he mostly just flopped onto me). “Geto, your handwriting looks like it belongs on some ancient cursed scroll. You a reincarnated sorcerer or something?”

“It’s called cursive, Satoru.” Geto didn’t even look up.

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. My best friend is cursed? This is a betrayal of the highest order.”

“Cursed technique: calligraphy,” I added solemnly, earning a chuckle from Geto and an eyeroll from Utahime.

“You guys are so dumb,” Utahime muttered, rubbing her temples.

Gojo gasped again, louder this time. “Did you hear that? She called us dumb!” He clutched his chest like he’d been shot.

“You are dumb,” Shoko said lazily from the floor, not even looking up.

“That’s different! You’re mean in a fun way.”

Utahime threw her eraser at him. It bounced off his Infinity and hit me instead.

“Ow!” I yelped. “I’m just a civilian in this battle!”

Gojo gave me a very serious pat on the head. “Casualties of war, my friend.”

I shoved him off the couch. He landed with a loud oof, but it was impossible to tell if it was real or exaggerated for dramatic effect. Probably the latter. There were very few that he turned his infinity off for.

“That’s it, I’m calling Yaga,” Utahime announced, standing up.

“Oh no, whatever shall we do?” Gojo deadpanned from the floor, not moving an inch.

“Utahime, sit down. You know you’re not actually gonna snitch,” Shoko said, flipping a page.

Utahime hesitated… then sighed heavily and sat back down. “I hate all of you.” Then turns toward you and shoko “oh except you both, you guys can of no wrong ever… except fraternize with the enemy”

“Aww, we love you too,” Geto said with a grin.

“No, you don’t.”

The room fell into a brief moment of peace. I was about to actually focus on my homework when a sudden SMACK!

A popcorn kernel hit Utahime square on the forehead.

Silence.

Slowly, she turned her head toward Gojo, who was whistling innocently, hands behind his head.

“…You’re dead.”

I barely had time to grab my notebook before she lunged at him, and the entire common room erupted into .

Utahime lunged at Gojo with all the fury of a woman who had had enough. Gojo, being Gojo, simply leaned back, letting Infinity do its thing. Utahime’s hands stopped midair, frozen inches from his stupid, smug face.

“Oh nooo, I’m so scared,” Gojo said flatly, grinning ear to ear.

Utahime clenched her fists. “Turn it off. Right now.”

“Nah.”

“Gojo, I swear to-”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Gojo interrupted, wagging a finger. “No swearing, Utahime. You’re a role model.”

“I will end your bloodline.”

“You’d have to get through my Infinity first.”

Utahime looked about this close to grabbing a chair and throwing it at him, which, honestly, would have been hilarious, so I was rooting for her. Unfortunately, Geto always the peacemaker decided to intervene.

“Alright, enough. Gojo, stop being a menace,” Geto said, not even looking up from his notes.

Gojo placed a dramatic hand on his chest. “Me? A menace? Suguru, how could you say that?”

“Easily.”

“Cold. Ice cold.” Gojo turned to me and Shoko, looking for support. “Did you hear that? He doesn’t even hesitate to slander me!”

“I mean,” I said, flipping a page in my book, “you did start it.”

Shoko nodded. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure you deserve it.”

Gojo gasped. “Et tu, Brute?!”

“Okay, first of all,” I said, setting my pen down, “don’t act like you read Julius Caesar.”

“I’ve read some books,” Gojo huffed.

“Manga doesn’t count,” Geto said.

“I WASN’T GONNA SAY MANGA.”

We all just looked at him.

“…Okay, fine, I was, but still!”

At this point, Utahime had accepted that violence wouldn’t work and decided to settle for a verbal attack instead. “This is why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

The room went silent.

“OH MY GOD.” Gojo reeled back like she’d stabbed him in the heart. “I can’t believe you’d say something so cruel!”

“Well, am I wrong?”

Gojo dramatically fell onto the couch, clutching his forehead like he was about to faint. “I’m young! I have my whole life ahead of me! Besides, love is a distraction”

“More like nobody can tolerate you,” Utahime muttered.

“EXCUSE ME?”

I leaned toward Shoko. “How long do you think this will last?”

Shoko yawned. “Until Yaga finds us or Gojo runs out of stupid things to say.”

“So if it’s the latter… never?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Gojo and Utahime were still in a heated debate about his supposed “overwhelming rizz” versus her “chronic bad taste in men.” Meanwhile, I was hunched over the table from the couch, desperately trying to copy Geto’s notes without getting caught.

“Y’know,” Geto said without looking up, “if you actually studied, you wouldn’t have to steal my notes.”

“I do study,” I whispered back with a glare. “I just study better when the answers are already written down.”

Geto chuckled, twirling his pen. “Uh huh. And how’s that strategy working for you?”

“Well, I haven’t failed out yet.”

“Yet.”

I squinted at him. “Are you rooting against me?”

“Of course not,” he said smoothly. “I’m just saying, if you need help, you could always ask.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Would you actually help, though? Or would you just lecture me about proper study habits?”

Geto smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before I could argue, Utahime’s voice cut through our conversation.

“At least I don’t actively repel women like a cursed technique,” she snapped at Gojo.

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been shot. “What is wrong with you? Why would you say something so hurtful?”

“Because it’s true,” Utahime said.

I turned to Geto, lowering my voice. “Is it bad that I kind of want to see how this ends?”

Geto smirked. “I’d be more surprised if you didn’t.”

Shoko, who had been lying on the floor the entire time, finally sat up and looked at Gojo. “Didn’t you try flirting with a girl last week, and she walked away before you even finished your sentence?”

Gojo pointed at her, looking betrayed. “That was because she was in a hurry!”

Geto and I exchanged a look.

“She was speed walking like she was being chased by a curse,” I said.

“She practically teleported out of there,” Geto added.

Gojo groaned, throwing himself onto the couch. “You guys suck.”

“Not as bad as your game,” Utahime muttered.

Before Gojo could launch a counterattack, the door suddenly slid open. Yaga stood in the doorway, looking like he had already lost the will to deal with us. His eyes scanned the mess popcorn on the floor, a couch war, me mid cheating…., and Shoko still lying down like a corpse.

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

“I don’t even want to know,” Yaga muttered.

“Great!” Gojo said immediately. “Then we don’t have to explain!”

Yaga exhaled through his nose. “Just clean this place up.”

“Yes, sir,” I said quickly, trying to look as innocent as possible.

He gave us one last look a “I regret everything look” before leaving. The second the door shut, everyone exhaled in relief.

“That was a close one,” I muttered, stretching my arms.

“For you guys,” Utahime huffed. “He probably blames me for not keeping you idiots in line.”

“You could fun away and report gojo. Maybe there might be some balance for once” Geto suggested.

“I should,” she muttered, not realizing the diss thrown at her. “But then I’d have to listen to him whine about it for weeks.”

Gojo sat up, grinning. “You know me so well.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Gojo turned to me, grinning. “Speaking of whining”

I blinked. “I’m sorry?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been copying Geto’s notes this whole time, haven’t you?”

“Uh.” I quickly slapped my notebook shut. “No?”

Geto smirked, resting his chin on his hand. “You totally have.”

“Et tu, Suguru?” I gasped, mocking Gojo from earlier.

“You did steal my notes,” Geto said. “I’m just stating facts.”

Gojo scoffed. “You should’ve copied my notes.”

Utahime snorted. “Like you have anything worth copying.”

“Excuse you, I am a genius,” Gojo said, flipping his nonexistent long hair.

Shoko held up a test paper. “Dude, you got a 42 on the last history quiz.”

Gojo waved a hand. “Pfft, history is for nerds.”

“You’re literally failing.”

“Okay, but in my defense”

“No,” Geto and I said at the same time.

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Wow. No faith in me. I am shattered.”

“Good. Stay that way,” Utahime said, picking up her notes.

I turned to Geto. “Do you think if we actually ignored him for long enough, he’d just disappear?”

Geto chuckled. “Doubtful. He’d probably just start singing for attention.”

“First of all, rude,” Gojo said. “Second of all-”

He started humming loudly, off-key, and obnoxious.

“Shoko,” I deadpanned, “do you still have that chloroform from your medical kit?”

Shoko sighed. “Sadly, I used it all.”

And just like that, our study session once again devolved into . Gojo, of course, took zero hints and continued humming except now, he had started tapping his pen against the table like some kind of makeshift drum.

I turned to Geto. “If we don’t stop him now, this will escalate into full-blown karaoke.”

Geto sighed, flipping a page in his book. “I know.”

“I can feel him about to start beatboxing.”

“You underestimate me,” Gojo said, pointing at me with his pen. “I was gonna freestyle.”

“Oh my God,” Utahime muttered.

“Yo check it ” Gojo slapped the table like a DJ soundboard. “Name’s Gojo Satoru, and I’m here to say”

“No,” Geto and I both said at the same time.

Gojo ignored us. “I’m the strongest sorcerer in every way”

“Shoko,” I cut in. “Is there really nothing in your med kit strong enough to knock him out?”

Shoko, who was sipping from a juice box like she had long since given up, shook her head. “Nah. We’d need industrial grade sedatives.”

I groaned. “We were so close.”

Geto sighed, rubbing his temple. “Alright, let’s get this over with.” He reached out, grabbed the eraser I had totally been using for notes, and casually chucked it at Gojo’s forehead.

It bounced off with a soft thud.

Gojo immediately stopped rapping. He blinked, processing what had just happened.

“Did you just throw an eraser at me?”

“Yes,” Geto said, already turning back to his book. “And I’ll do it again.”

Gojo looked at me. “Did you see that?”

“I did.”

“And you’re just okay with this?”

“I actively support it.”

“Wow. No loyalty. You wound me.”

“You’ll live,” I said.

“I could die from heartbreak, you know.”

I stared at him. “That would be the dumbest cause of death I’ve ever heard.”

“It happens to dogs all the time”

“You’d be a moron,” Utahime corrected.

Gojo ignored her, turning back to me with his signature grin. “Y’know, if you wanted my attention that badly, you could’ve just asked instead of teaming up with Geto to attack me.”

I deadpanned. “You were the one freestyling about yourself unprovoked.”

“Because you inspire me,” he shot back, winking.

I stared at him. “Did you just try to spin that into flirting?”

Gojo leaned in slightly. “Is it working?”

Geto flicked another eraser at him. “No.”

Gojo yelped, dodging this time. “HEY—”

“Well,then ” Gojo said cheerfully, “we should probably get back to studying.”

“You’re the reason we’re in trouble,” Utahime snapped.

I sighed, finally opening my textbook for real. “Okay. Fine. Studying. Let’s go.”

Gojo turned to me, grinning. “You wanna sit next to me?”

“No.”

“Cold.”

Geto smirked, nudging me. “He’s gonna be annoying until you agree, you know.”

“I know,” I muttered.

And just like that, our study session actually started.

Then Gojo got bored again.

For about five minutes, there was actual, real silence.

I was finally getting through the first few pages of my textbook. Utahime was scribbling notes, muttering to herself. Shoko had somehow managed to study while still lying on the floor. Geto was flipping through his book, and Gojo.

Wait.

I slowly looked up from my textbook. Gojo was quiet. Too quiet. I glanced at Geto, who immediately caught my look. He sighed, barely tilting his head toward Gojo. Check on him.

I turned.

Gojo was sitting next to me, pretending to read, but his page hadn’t changed in five minutes. His pen was in his mouth. And he was staring directly at me.

I blinked. “…What?”

Gojo grinned. “Nothing.”

I squinted. “Then why are you staring at me like that?”

“I just like looking at you.”

Utahime immediately gagged. “Oh my God.”

Geto coughed, very obviously covering a laugh.

Shoko, still on the floor, just sipped her juice box.

I groaned, rubbing my face. “Gojo-”

“Satoru,” he corrected. “We’re close enough for first names, aren’t we?”

I stared at him. “No.” ironically enough you call him satoru everyday but in solidarity for utahime you had too.

Gojo dramatically gasped. “After everything we’ve been through?”

“What have we been through?” I asked flatly.

Utahime sighed. “Can we please just study?”

Gojo leaned toward me, resting his chin on his hand. “I would if I had some motivation, y’know?”

“Your motivation is not failing,” Geto said.

Gojo ignored him. “Maybe if someone gave me a little reward for my hard work—”

I grabbed an eraser and shoved it into his mouth.

“Mmfh—!” Gojo spit it out, coughing. “You just fed me rubber!”

“Oops.” I smiled. “My hand slipped.”

Gojo wiped his tongue with his sleeve, pouting. “I hope you know you just kissed me indirectly.”

I stared at him. “Gojo, I will throw you out of this room. Thats not even now that works. It just touched my hand”

Gojo wiggled his eyebrows. “You want to be alone with me that badly?”

Utahime immediately launched her pen at his head.

Gojo ducked, laughing. “Hey! Violence isn’t the answer”

“I swear to God”

The door slammed open again.

Everyone froze.

Yaga stood in the doorway. Again.

His eye twitched.

Utahime immediately pointed at Gojo. “IT WAS HIM.”

Yaga slowly inhaled. Exhaled. “I don’t care. I don’t care. But if you all don’t shut up and actually study” His voice dropped. “You will be running laps until the sun rises.”

Utahime, Geto, and I immediately sat up straight.

“Yes, sir,” we all said in unison.

Yaga shut the door.

Silence.

Then, Gojo leaned toward me and whispered, “Wanna fake an injury to get out of this?”

I grabbed another eraser.

Gojo yelped.

And the study session continued.

—————

the common room had mostly cleared out. Utahime had stormed off first, muttering about how she was never studying with idiots again a bold faced lie, considering she always came back, no matter how much she complained. Then, you had left, still grumbling about not finishing copying Geto’s notes.

Which left just Gojo, Geto, and Shoko in the now technically cleaner, but still slightly chaotic, common room. The table was strewn with abandoned papers, a couple of open textbooks, and a suspiciously high number of empty juice boxes thanks to Shoko’s seemingly endless supply.

Gojo groaned as he flopped onto the couch like he had just fought a life or death battle, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Man, I really gave it my all in there.”

Geto, who hadn’t moved from his spot at the table, barely glanced up from his book. He was always the responsible one, making sure at least one of them actually retained knowledge from these sessions. “You didn’t study at all.”

Gojo peeked out from under his arm with a lazy grin. “I tried, Suguru. I really did.”

Not entirely true. He had opened his book once. That should count for something.

“But some things just aren’t meant to be,” he added with a dramatic sigh.

Shoko, still lounging on the floor with her back against the couch, snorted. “Like your academic success?”

Gojo gasped, lifting his arm to dramatically clutch his chest. “Shoko, watch yourself!”

She just shrugged, casually sipping from yet another juice box.

Geto finally closed his book with a sigh, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “So. Are we gonna talk about how you spent the entire session shamelessly flirting?”

Gojo froze for half a second. Then, as if that half second of hesitation hadn’t existed, he stretched lazily, playing it cool. “Ah. You noticed.”

Geto gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “It was painfully obvious.”

Shoko smirked. “Yeah. You’re about as subtle as a slap to the face.”

Gojo waved a hand like their words meant nothing to him. Even though, yeah, maybe he had been laying it on a little thick. But it wasn’t his fault you were fun to tease. That was on you. No matter now much he tries, you never seem to realize it.

He rolled onto his side, resting his cheek against the couch cushion. “You guys don’t get it. It’s called natural charm.”

Shoko raised her juice box. “So you should probably develop some.”

Gojo shot up, pointing at her. “you’re on thin ice lady”

Geto leaned back in his chair, watching him with a knowing look. “So what’s your plan, exactly?”

Gojo blinked. “Plan?”

Geto smirked, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “You do have a plan, right?”

Gojo squinted at him. “…a plan for?”

Shoko hummed. “I think he’s asking if you actually like her or if you just enjoy being annoying.”

Gojo opened his mouth then promptly shut it. Because that? That was a trap question. A dangerous, loaded question. He glanced at Geto, who was watching him too closely, like he was waiting for a specific answer. Gojo didn’t like that.

So he did what he did best. He deflected.

“Look, does it really matter?” He grinned, leaning back against the armrest. “We’re both having mindless fun”

Geto chuckled, his smirk deepening. “You sound like an ass.”

Gojo smirked right back. “It’s how we bond”

Geto tilted his head slightly, studying him. “Then let’s bet on it.”

Gojo hesitated for half a second. See, here was the thing: Geto never made a bet unless he was certain he’d win.

“…I’m listening.”

“If you actually manage to get a date with her” Geto said smoothly, “I’ll do all your homework for two weeks.”

Gojo sat up immediately. “Two weeks?”

That was so much homework.

“Two weeks,” Geto confirmed, still smirking.

Gojo narrowed his eyes. “…And if I don’t?”

Shoko, who had been waiting for the perfect moment, finally chimed in. “Then you start taking school seriously and stop pursuing her”

Gojo froze.

That? That was a nightmare scenario.

He looked at Geto again, and oh.

Oh.

That was definitely a smug look.

Gojo knew exactly what that meant.

“…Wait a second,” he said slowly. “why are you betting against me?”

Geto shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. “I just think you might overestimate your charm.”

“Ohhh, bullshit,” Gojo said immediately, pointing at him. “You wouldn’t be making this bet if you didn’t think I’d win.”

Geto didn’t even try to deny it. “I guess you’ll just have to prove me wrong.”

Shoko snorted. “That’s not happening.”

Gojo scowled. “Okay, why are you so confident?”

Shoko smirked. “i’m on a Y/n fan page so I just want to see happens.”

Geto leaned back in his chair, looking a little too smug for Gojo’s liking. “You don’t exactly have the best track record with romance, Satoru.”

Gojo scoffed. “Okay, first of all, yes I do.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t a girl walk away mid sentence last time you tried flirting?”

Gojo crossed his arms. “She was in a hurry.”

“She ran,” Geto corrected, grinning.

“She had places to be!”

Geto just kept smirking.

And that was when Gojo really put the pieces together.

“…Wait a minute,” Gojo said slowly. “You want me to fail.”

Geto didn’t react. Which meant Gojo was definitely right.

Gojo’s grin widened. “You like her, don’t you?”

Geto finally sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “…And there it is.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow at Geto. “oh! this is some plot i didn’t even see coming.” yes she did, but it’s her fault for being friends with idiots.

Gojo pointed dramatically. “You do!”

Geto still didn’t deny it. He just exhaled, standing up. “Are you taking the bet or not?”

Gojo stared at him for a second longer.

Then he smirked.

“Oh, I’m definitely taking it.” He held out a hand. “let’s say a month”

Geto took his hand, shaking it firmly. “a month.”

Shoko just shook her head, standing up as well. “You two are dumb.”

Gojo flopped back onto the couch, grinning. “Maybe.” He turned to Geto. “But I’m the one who’s gonna win.”

Geto just smirked. “We’ll see.”

And just like that, the bet was on.

—

The moment Geto and Shoko left, Gojo stayed where he was on the couch, staring at the ceiling. His legs were sprawled out, one arm draped over his stomach, the other dangling off the side, fingers lightly tapping against the floor. The room was eerily quiet now, aside from the faint hum of the overhead lights and the occasional rustling of papers left behind on the table.

Then it hit him.

“Those bastards left me with the mess.”

He groaned, tilting his head to glare at the table. Textbooks sat half open, notes scattered across the surface, empty juice boxes piled on top of one another in a sad little mountain. Crumpled up papers littered the floor, evidence of Shoko’s inability to toss things into the trash from a distance.

Sighing, he let his head fall back onto the couch. He’d deal with it later. Maybe. Probably.

Right now, he had bigger things to think about.

Like the fact that he had two weeks to get a date.

Two. Whole. Weeks.

That should be plenty of time. He was Gojo Satoru, after all. He was charming. People liked him. He could pull this off.

…Right?

He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face.

He didn’t usually think about this kind of thing too much. Flirting with you had always been easy. It was just something he did, a joke, a game, a way to pass the time. At least, that’s what he’d always told himself.

But now? With an actual bet on the line?

It felt… different.

Because if he actually tried, if he really put in effort and you still didn’t like him back

Gojo sat up abruptly. Nope. Not going there. Not thinking about that.

Instead, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and immediately typed into the search bar.

How to make someone like you.

A flood of articles popped up.

• 10 Psychological Tricks to Make Anyone Fall for You!

• Signs Your Crush Might Like You Back!

• Why Are You Googling This? Just Be Yourself, Dude.

Gojo frowned at that last one. Rude.

Clicking on the first link, he skimmed the list:

1. Mirroring their movements to build subconscious trust

2. Prolonged eye contact

3. Casual physical touch

4. Making them laugh

5. Using their name often

Gojo read through it once. Then again. His stomach twisted. Because… he already did most of this. And yet. You hadn’t fallen for him.

Was that why Geto had looked so smug earlier? Because he knew? Knew that Gojo had been trying, even if he hadn’t admitted it? Knew that it hadn’t worked? Gojo groaned, flopping back onto the couch dramatically, one arm slung over his face.

This was stupid. This was so stupid. He shouldn’t care this much. It was just a bet. He was just messing around. …Except he wasn’t. Not really.

Because if he lost, if this went wrong it wouldn’t just be a bruised ego.

It’d be proof.

Proof that maybe you really didn’t see him that way. That maybe you never would and that? That was worse than any stupid bet. Gojo exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before opening his notes app.

The Gojo Satoru Foolproof Love Plan™ (That Hopefully Works and Doesn’t End in Humiliation)

1. Mirroring movements (Subtle. Act natural. Don’t be weird.)

2. Eye contact (Not too much though. Don’t be creepy.)

3. Casual touches (Hand on shoulder? Ruffling hair? Is that too much? I don’t know.)

4. Make them laugh (I can do that. I do that.)

5. Say their name more (But not in a weird way.)

6. Grand romantic gesture??? (Only if desperate.)

He hesitated, then added:

7. Don’t mess this up.

Gojo stared at the list for a long moment.

Then he shut his phone off and leaned back against the couch, pressing his palms into his eyes. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should just drop it. Forget the bet. Move on.…But he knew he wouldn’t.

Because if there was even the smallest chance that this worked. If there was even the smallest chance that you might actually like him back. Then he had to try.

Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow I’ll start. And maybe, just maybe this wouldn’t be a complete disaster.