The Sexual Tension Between A Girl And Not Feeling Real Every Time Her Birthday Comes Around

screenshots of despair

that last bit is evil but omggggg

Inevitable Things : chapter ten

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. Mentions of drug use

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You kick yourself for leaving your room a mess. Your fluffy pajamas are strewn across the blue sheets of the bed, your makeup bag is scattered across the bathroom sink. The sheets are fluffed up from when you threw your luggage on them and the remote is nestled in your pillow-

But Aizawa doesn’t notice. 

He’s too busy kissing you like he can’t get close enough. On the greediest of movements, his teeth click against yours and he whimpers into the plush of your tongue, desperately pushing into you. His body follows suit, cornering you against the backside of the door, crowding you until your heart rate spikes-

Then his lips travel down, down, to the curve of your neck, the spot that makes your knees buckle a bit with his tongue drags across the skin. He must feel it too, because he does it again. Snd again. The sensation rips through your body the way fire rips through oil and you fear that you may combust before the fun’s even begun.

“Ah-hh-a-” Your body punches out without your permission. He growls in return and sucks at the same spot again- “Jesus, Shouta-”

“Say it again-” Aizawa demands.” Say my name again.”

And you do.

This time, he sucks you skin into his mouth until you whine for him to stop. He does and you can feel the blossoming pain of a bruise in his wake, throbbing for less and more concurrently.

You can feel how hard he is against you. It presses through the thick cloth of his pants, right into your lower stomach. It's thick. It's hard. He wants you-- unbelievably so. It takes every firing synapse in your skull to reach down and paw at his cock, to feel it beneath your fingertips.

 Heated desire flows through you, thrums, hot and totally overwhelming in every way. You barely notice how you’re sinking, down the smooth plane of the door, down until your knees hit the floor. He follows you the whole time, hunching over you as to not break the contact for even a moment. Tickles of hair and breath and simply him touch your cheeks. Somehow you end up supine, Aizawa slotted between your legs, carpet catching against your hair as he sinks lower, lower-

“We shouldn’t do this.” he whispers and you kiss him deeper, because no, you shouldn’t, but there’s something inside you that needs this, needs him. You press into his shoulder and off of the ground, flipping both of you around so he’s splayed on the floor. Gravity grinds you down against him and he groans - pained, wanted-

“We shouldn’t do this.” He’s firm this time, even with those dark, wet eyes that seem to be begging for it- “You’ve been-”

“I thought you wanted me.” You grip his shirt and you aren’t sure why. You aren’t going to disobey his wishes, but you wish you could, just to derive some pleasure from him, from tonight. “I thought we were past this hot and cold thing.”

“I do,” he says. “I am.”

Gently, he places a hand on your thigh. The cuts on your feet thrum in the silence, the pain sharp and demanding, just like the ache in your chest.

“But, not like this. You’ve been crying, drinking…”

Your grip loosens.

“Do…do you even want this?” he asks.

Do you? You let him sit up and you fall away and try to process it all. This whole drama between the two of you has you upside down; the fighting, the truce, the spark that's just lit between you- it all came together tonight. He waited for you, he was here- 

You want everything that Aizawa could be to you- but do you want him?

You barely know who he is. Even after all these years, Aizawa Shouta is basically a mystery to you. You don't know his favorite color or food or anything-- hell, you didn't know he owned cats until today! The emotional high you’ve been riding starts to waiver. You don’t think you’d regret sleeping with him, but…

“I don't know,” you say,  carefully, because you don't. Not really. You know you need someone new, but you aren’t sure if that’s Aizawa.

Aizawa nods, solemn, swallowing the news. He takes it better than you thought he would; he seems thankful to have a chance more than anything. 

“I don’t want you to almost want this.” He adjusts himself awkwardly, pants still tight at the front. It’s funny- you don’t even think you’ve seen a man use both heads at once. You don’t laugh, though, or even smirk; not while Aizawa looks so utterly defeated. “I want to be more than that.”

The two of you untangle from each other, you fixing your shirt, him fixing his pants. His hair is disheveled, wild from your touch and the carpet, and his lips are freshly kissed red. The hotel clock changes to the top of the hour, blinking its deep red pattern as you both sit there, silent. You find spaces against the door, side by side. Occasionally you can hear the elevator ding in the distance of the hall.

Fucking would be easier than this. Sex doesn’t need pretext or explanation, it just is what it is. You could just do it and move on, let tomorrow’s problems stay unaddressed, but instead you have to percolate it your emotions, decide exactly how you feel-

“It’s not that I don’t not like you.” You interrupt your own thoughts. “I do, I think. Like you.”

You shrug, still avoiding his gaze even as your shoulders slim each other. “At least, you make me do some stupid shit that no one else makes me do, other than--”

You don't want to talk about Touya. Luckily, he seems to understand. Aizawa just nods back to you, eyes lowered, expression tight.

“You also make me do some things that I regret,” He speaks so carefully.

“Like firing Denki?” You try to joke. “And moving the coffee machine?”

“I only fired Denki because he was abusing your good will and pushing his work off on to you.” Aizawa shifts a bit again with a sigh.  “I don’t regret that. I do regret making you so upset over it all.”

You guffaw. “You knew I did his work?” You thought you had been secretive about it!

“Of course I did.”  He shifts to turn your way, face so close to yours you can feel his breath against your cheek. You watch from the corner of your vision and try not to let that fluttering in your stomach take over. “No one else double staples like you do.”

You throw your hands up in frustration at the thought. “I never get the angle right the first time!”

And he smiles back at you with only his eyes, soft and sweet.

“I know.”

Since when did he start looking at you like that?  And since when did you start to like it?

Did Touya ever look at you like that? Maybe a long, long time ago, before the pills and heroin, back when you were both human and young. The attention is so sweet that it aches to bare, and yet you still do, maybe even smiling back. 

 You try not to shatter the moment.  “You really do like me, don’t you?”

He nods.

“Then why were you always so-?”

Aizawa opens his mouth, then closes it, Then, he does it again, seemingly finding no answer. His bad leg curls up to his chest and he loops an arm under his thigh to hold it in place. Silver peeks out from under the cuff, but he doesn’t seem to notice. The shape is very calf like, but utilitarian- no real design other than smooth curves. You try not to stare, especially when he speaks up again.

“I don’t know.” Shouta pulls himself tighter. “It’s like I’m still some stupid twenty year old when I’m around you.”

You remember the feeling of being twenty: the turbulence, the love, the fear. You think about your ink stained hands, the ones so desperate to hold and be held. Ones so young and yet so, so wounded. Against your better judgment, you reach out with those hands and grab Shouta’s free hand, giving it the lightest of squeezes.

“I feel that way too.”

And, when he squeezes back, you think, just for a moment, that maybe you do want this. 

The time he’s granting you is so appreciated and you almost want to try and fuck him again-

“Where do we go from here?” Aizawa asks.

“I think I’d like to try… whatever this is,” you say. A thrill and a fear thrills inside you. Something new, something unknown. The mystery of it all is terrifying. 

“It’ll be a lot of paperwork though.”  Aizawa, of course, brings you back to reality. That’s right, as coworker’s, it’s probably not the most smiled upon thing to date-- especially since Aizawa is so high up in the company. Bakugo and Izuku are together, but they had to disclose that fact before they were even hired. 

God, you’ll have to tell Yagi that you’re seeing Aizawa, won’t you? You can’t decide if he’ll be proud or alarmed. 

“We don’t have to jump right into dating,” you say, quickly. “We can just.. Go on dates.”

Aizawa’s scowl makes a return. “That’s dating.”

“No, it’s going on a date.” You stay firm. “Very different. Much less commitment. Nothing to tell the company about. Or Hizashi.”

“Hizashi can never know.” Aizawa groans. His hands fly to his head in mock pain. “He’d be insufferable about it.”

“The whole town would know if we told Hizashi!”

A giggle escapes you, then Aizawa follows suit. His laugh is crackling, low, rumbling, but it makes your hands vibrate with something you don’t recognize. Before you can stop it, you laugh harder too, then he follows, until you’re both nothing but laughter and tears, crumbling over almost nothing at all. Your head rolls onto his shoulder so you can feel how he bounces with joy, and it only fuels you more. It takes a full minute to pull yourself together again, core aching from the exertion.

“Okay,” There’s still a hint of levity to his voice. “Let’s move slow then. Figure out what you want on your own time.”

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

The fact that you’re so intertwined with him sets in. Your head is on his shoulder, leg popped over his, hands clasped so tightly you think you might never let go. It’s juvenile, like two kids behind the bleachers, savoring the moments before they get caught. You… like it. Dopamine receptors that haven’t been tickled in years are alight in your brain, giving you this tickling, quantifiable satisfaction. 

You stay there until the carpet burns your ass. 

“Do you want to sit on the bed?”  you say, peeling yourself from him and rising to your feet. Exhaustion is already aching under your eyes and in your joints. “It’ll be comfier.”

“I shouldn't stay too long.” He's already standing and walking towards the bed. “I have to present in the morning.”

You quickly throw your mess to the slide and then slide on top of the sheets.  Aizawa follows, stiffly flopping beside you. His bad leg kicks out a bit when he falls and you can’t help but wince at the thought. Another mystery about him that you haven’t been about to uncover: his leg is his business, but you can’t help but be curious, especially since it’s related to his speech tomorrow. Tensei or Hizashi could probably tell you, but that seems like a violation of Shouta’s privacy.

“I need to sleep,” he says, drifting along to your silent siren’s song.  He’s already slotting himself against you. “It’ll only be for a couple minutes.”

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

For a  while in comfortable silence, you listen to the way he breathes; its rhythmic, tempo only hitching when you move at all-- especially when you drape an arm across his chest. His eyes are bloodshot from work and the late hour, but you almost like how it looks, how the red deepens the brown until it’s past inky, almost bottomless.

Aizawa suddenly sighs, expression downturned.

“Can I say something?” 

You nod.

“I don’t want you to watch the presentation tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat to buy time. How are you supposed to react to that? You want to lash out with anger - after tonight, he turns you away? Again?- but you try to swallow that down. Jumping to conclusions hasn’t helped either of you.  “Did I do something?”

“No.” He’s quick to correct. “My leg will be on display and--”

Aizawa sucks in his peach slice lips. “It’s different when it’s strangers looking at me with a scientific eye. You-- you’re different.”

Oh.

“You feel vulnerable,” you guess.

“Perhaps,” he all but confirms. Now, he won’t meet your eye, his gaze stuck to the ceiling. You try and find where he’s looking, try to pick one dot out in the uneven ceiling that makes sense, like you’re watching stars instead of plaster. 

But there isn’t anywhere to look.

Maybe you’ll never see things completely from his perspective or see what he sees. Maybe that’s okay, as long as you’re here to listen. Your hand finds his once again, just as his started looking for yours.

“How did it-?” you try.

“Car accident.” Aizawa cuts you off.  “Head on collision with a drunk driver. I was twenty.”

So young. You wince as you remember your fight for the front of the car that morning; he probably does need it, both for his leg and his mental well being. You try to imagine him, twenty, unscarred, no little crescent scar on his cheek and no hitch in his gate-

“That must have been so scary.”

He hums an affirmative. “Not as scary as the recovery.”

You squeeze his hand in yours, as tight as you can muster. “I’m so sorry.”

 “Me too.”

You almost talk about Touya, how your twentieth was hard in a different way, but the words don’t come. As close as you two have allowed yourselves to become, there’s still a wall between you-- double sided. Behind yours is years of loving a man who is set on destroying himself, loving someone that’s forgotten how to love you back-

Behind his, his own traumas. 

“I’ll hang out with Hizashi tomorrow,” you say after a very long time. “We’ll go slow.”

“Thank you.”

His nose presses into your cheek, followed by the plush of lips. When it draws a giggle from you, he does it again, slighting closer to your lips. His hands are trying to loop around you, under you, through the warmth of blanket to grab handfuls of your waist and thigh. When he squeezes, he laughs too, something low and grumbling that gets caught in his throat. If he weren’t about to kiss you, you probably wouldn’t have caught it.

“You said we should move slow,” you curl your arms around his neck and drag your body closer, until you’re pressed right against him-

“I think-” He presses his lips to your temple. “A kiss-” He does the same to the other. “-or two-” There’s a pause before he hits your lips. “Is alright.”

You oblige.

You never imagined being here, with him, would be so incredibly gentle. Not that you ever thought you’d be here, having a slow, meticulous kiss with Aizawa Shouta. He just seems so rough, so uncaring from a distance; who could have guessed he had such a capacity for the saccharine? Who could have guessed that he’d hold you like he needs you, that he’d suck on your lip like he’d die without you? 

It slowly devolves. The heat between you burns brighter and brighter, a rolling core of embers right under the surface, but you start to drift. Maybe it’s the expensive bed and perfect pillows, maybe it’s the comfort of being held, but sleep starts to creep into your mind. He must feel it too; the pauses between yet peck grow longer and longer, each drag of skin against skin getting lighter, more fleeting-

The bed creaks as he rolls over. 

“Shouta?” you ask, unable to open your eyes. “Are you really okay with me not knowing what I want from this?”

There’s a pause. He shifts back to you, hand on your waist.

“Don’t sleep in your contacts.” Shouta mumbles into your temple, on the precipice of sleep himself. “You’ll be mad in the morning.”

You hum his worries away.

---

He’s gone in the morning. You awake to creased sheets, the peep of sunlight creeping through your blinds, and sticky, blurry eyes. He was right- you do regret sleeping in your contacts, but that doesn’t kill the butterflies that have hatched inside you, flitting about in sheer excitement. You (kind of) (sort of) (not really) have a boyfriend. At least, someone in the shape of a boyfriend, who holds you all night and kisses you deep and makes your pussy-

You shake that off.

As you prepare for the day - brushing your teeth, washing your face, stripping off your dirty clothes and replacing them with a fresh pair of undies- you keep thinking back to him, him, him. Aizawa’s right- you feel twenty again. Maybe even better. You have no qualms about walking around naked post shower, breasts out and pearled in the thrull of the AC.

You’re standing in the middle of the room, watching the news and googling ‘coffee near me’ when you hear the door. It beeps, then creeps open, Aizawa ducking back in. Gone is the outfit from yesterday, replaced with a nice top and… sweatpants. He’s also freshly bathed, raven hair barely damp against his shirt. His usually hooded eyes pop wide and he freezes when he sees you standing there, only your panties to save your decency.

“Hi!” you say, more surprised than anything else.

“Hi,” he says back, just as awkwardly. He’s trying not to stare at you; you quickly scurry back under the covers to hide yourself, shoving handfuls of sheets over your tits.

 “You look-- I didn’t think you’d be awake--- I brought breakfast,” he tries, holding a brown bag up for you in one hand and a cup in the other. “And a latte. Nice-- glasses.”

You look at him. Really, really look at him. Breakfast in bed? You didn’t even fuck him. Why would he--?

“Really?” you try not to sound skeptical.

He hums a yes. “I borrowed your key, hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s-” You’re less concerned about that than breakfast. After not having a real dinner, you’re starving; he must have been too. Taking the bag, you quickly look inside. It’s a little bagel sandwich, wrapped in tin foil and a heavenly smell. “You really brought me food?”

“Stop asking me that and take this.” He places the drink on the nightstand. “It all seemed like things you would like.”

You aren’t sure if you’re hungry or if the sandwich really is good. All you know is that you unpeel it from its wrapping and take a less than demure bite, followed very quickly by a second. Your eyes actually flutter back into your skull for a moment; fuck-- that’s a good fucking breakfast. The coffee smells fantastic too. All of this while sitting in high thread count sheets? You might be in heaven.

“Don’t look at my breasts if they fall out,” you mumble through your food. 

“I will be looking,” he says, completely serious. “Maybe even praying.”

With your free hand, you scooch the comforter down, exposing your tits to the cool hotel air. His expression grows hard and you glimmer under the attention. It’s new enough that it still feels elicit, dangerous, wrong, to be topless in front of the man.

“There is a God.” Aizawa sits on the edge of the bed. His eyes never leave your body. “Remind me to bring you breakfast in bed again some day.”

He leans on to his palms to duck over you, catching your cheek in a rather sloppy kiss. 

“You aren’t going to eat with me?” you ask.

"I'd rather spend the morning eating you.” His flirtation merely has you choking on your spit.  “But we agreed to go slow.”

He dots your other cheek with a kiss again. It’s funny how soft he has become in such a short time. Has this always been there, hiding under that stupid yellow sweatshirt? Or have you broken through him this weekend?

Then, you process what he said. Fuck, that sounds-- you’re still a little wet from last night, riding the high of being touched. It would only take a couple licks for you to-

“Don’t look at me like that.” Shouta shuts down your train of thought. “I really should be going to prepare.”

That’s right- there’s only a little time before he presents.

“Hm, okay. Another morning, then.” You take another bite. “Good luck with your speech. I won't be watching.”

You’re still a bit conflicted about not going, but you respect his choice. The accident seems to be a huge scar on his past; if he isn’t ready to debride it, you can’t force him. Besides, you haven’t discussed Touya with him-- that’s probably an equally big trauma in your life.

Especially because you may still be in love with Touya.

That thought cuts the wind from your sails.

Hello,

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You know who would make the perfect wedding date? Nanami Kento. Even if you’re not together, he treats you like someone he could spend a lifetime beside. He's the type who shows up early, dressed sharp but with his sleeves rolled up, offering to iron your dress without a second thought - just wanting to be helpful, to be close.

He's the type who sits through hours of dress try-ons, calm and attentive, offering quiet praise with that soft look in his eyes. You don’t see the way his fingers twitch when you smile at yourself in the mirror. You don’t notice how he lingers on the little details - how the color of your dress brings out your eyes, how your laugh makes the room feel lighter.

He brings over his whole tie collection, more invested than he’d ever admit, just to match with you. And when he hands you your favorite coffee that morning, there’s a small note on the lid in his handwriting - just a simple “You’ll be beautiful today.” He acts like it’s nothing.

He even shows up with a bottle of nail polish, a shade he spent far too long picking out, and offers - half shy, half serious - to paint your toes for you. His hands are steady, but his heart isn’t.

At the reception, he holds your purse while you dance with your friends, watching you with that quiet, wistful expression he tries to hide. He doesn't let himself hope for more , but when you reach for him during a slow song, when your hand slips into his and he pulls you close, he lets himself pretend. Just for a little while that he will always be your plus one.

i don't think people really understand what's happening in gaza. with each passing day that sees more and more palestinians dead, it's becoming easier and easier for those in the west to perceive them as nothing more than a statistic. they might engage w the occasional palestine post, sure, but it's just as easy to scroll right past that moments later w no real outrage for the genocide retained.

it's vital to stay reminded that palestinians who are with us today won't be with us tomorrow. it's happening every second of every minute of every hour, and it's relentless. somewhere in gaza a little girl is losing her mother, a little boy is watching his siblings bleed to death, elderly people are infirm with starvation and illness, palestinian women and girls are being sexually assaulted and kept in cages, fathers are leaving tents to find food for their families and not coming back. this is all happening right now, and it's a direct result of the west's complacency. it's a direct result of their not seeing arabs as people worth saving.

it might be hard to compute as a westerner, but this is real. don't let your privilege blind you to your humanity.

I AM YOU

the woke mob has turned santa clause TRANSGENDER and now he fills your stocking with ARTISANAL PICKLES and CHEESES instead of TOYS. Parents across the GLOBE are actually REALLY STOKED about charcuterie stockings, as the prices of FINE CHEESES and whatnot have SKYROCKETED.

― in between ⋆⭒˚.⋆

― the ways in which they act around you when you're in that in-between stage ༘ ⋆｡˚

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuji x gn!reader, yuuta x gn!reader, headcannons/drabbles, fluff a/n: heavily based on in between by gracie abrams. if she releases it in the secret of us deluxe edition, i might just explode with happiness. btw thank you sm for blowing up my last post, literally insane of you guys and a big kiss to all of you. also genuine question for you guys, do you prefer the layout i have for my headcanons, drabbles or longer fics? i'm trying to see which one you guys prefer

gojo satoru never lets his phone ring for more than a couple seconds when it comes to you. doesn't matter where, when or what it could be about, the second he hears your personalised ringtone or sees your name flash across the top of his screen, he's scrambling to try and answer it as fast he possibly can. he could be in the middle of fighting a curse, deep within the throws of battle with a laser focus on the target in front of him and it all goes out the window the moment you call his phone.

you'll never know about it though. for some reason, satoru keeps this fact to himself like it's the biggest secret in the world. he'll always pick up the phone with a carefree lilt to his voice, sometimes even choosing to tease you for calling him when you could have just texted instead. quietly inside, he thanks the universe for giving him the opportunity to hear your voice again.

"gojo," god, he loves the way you say his name, maybe one day he'll manage to get you to call him satoru. "are you sure you're at home right now?" there's a tinge of concern that permeates your voice and he swears his heart beats twice as fast just thinking about the fact that you might be worried about his well being.

"of course! why'd you ask? don't tell me this is your way of asking to come over right now?" you sigh at his antics and he laughs it off, it's like a routine you two do. he keeps jokingly throwing out these more than friendly offers to your constant dismissal but secretly, he hopes one day that he can stop pretending like they're just that.

there's a loud crash coming from his side of the call which only serves your suspicions as you quip back. "no, gojo. i'm asking because i'm hearing noises like you're beating someone up." he curses faintly under his breath at the curse who's off groaning in pain in the distance after being punted into a wall with a flick of his wrist.

you pause for a second as your voice softens "is this a good time to call because if not i can just-"

"no, no." he cuts you off, "i've got all the time in the world for you."

geto suguru hates it when you cry and hates it even more when you're away. he never thought it would be possible to hear a heart shatter in front of him but that's what he hears every time you shed a tear. you're the definition of angelic as crystalline tears stream down your face and his heart swells with warmth when you allow him to comfort you in his arms.

silently, he pledges to burn down whatever has brought you so much grief and pain as a newfound sense of anger courses through his veins. but before he can do anything, you turn to him with watery eyes and a quivering lip as you ask him to do the unthinkable.

"stay." you plead quietly.

"okay." he responds, a soft, comforting smile gracing his expression. he'll never say it out loud but he knows that it's a request, just like many others, he'll accept a thousand times over if it means he gets to stay close to you, even if it's nothing more than this.

if he thought it was painful to see you cry, then being away from you was possibly a fate worse than death. whenever he has to bear the misfortune of being separated from you, there's a part of him that you've taken away with you and is only reunited when you return to him. absence is said to make the heart grow fonder but he's pretty sure it's humanly impossible for his to do that as you're already the one it beats for. even across the distance of a phone call, it's still not enough for him to hear but not see you as it simply makes him crave your presence next even more.

he's rarely ever let anyone in like this before but the day you see him exhausted, dishevelled and broken and still choose to remain at his side, despite his protests, is the day he's sure that you're the only thing he'll ever want for the rest of his life. you claim it's under the guise of being friendly yet even satoru hasn't seen him like this. you might not know it but he does.

he doesn't say much, instead choosing to bask in this moment of mutual comfort and closeness as even at each other's worst, you both know that you'll still be okay.

nanami kento says that he's new at this when you toe that delicate line between the two of you. you're new to this too. he's scared and you're scared, however, the fear is not enough to stop this. when does the line of being just friends end and the line of calling each other lover start? or is there a secret in-between stage that the two of you are stuck in like right now, where the other waits with bated breath to see if someone takes the risk to make the first move?

you've been friends for as long as you can remember running into each other that one fateful day within the rectangular walls of jujutsu tech. however, there's always been a whisper of something else there as well. it's been something the two of you have danced around with lingering glances and silent, 'accidental' touches in public spaces. the two of you have seen each other through the growing pains of adolescence, nights of broken hearts and awkward first dates and now with an added layer of professionalism as recent coworkers.

when it was nanami who was the one who rescued you from those times when you were left cold and alone in a random restaurant somewhere, you know that you've had enough of waiting on somebody who doesn't care about you. as he places his hand on your shoulder, ushering you into his car with his jacket dropped across your figure with the utmost care, he knows that you deserve so much more than whatever this world can offer and he can only dream of being the one to give this to you.

between you and him, there's an invisible wall of all the labels you have each barricade the other behind in an attempt to hide under a sense of familiarity but now in this moment, you want nothing more than to tear it all down with your bare hands. he reaches out to you, threading his fingers through his and in one swift move, he's done the impossible and has crossed over the holy ground that lies beneath you.

"do you think this is a good idea?" you ask him, your voice barely above a whisper.

"positive." he responds, more resolute in his answer than in anything he has been in his life, and you swear sparks fly when you kiss.

fushiguro megumi loves your eyes and your smile and you love how he talks late at night when there's no one there. it's like a silent agreement between you two, one that you always honour. whenever one of you guys can't sleep, you will go to each other's dorm rooms and knock twice and you guys will stay up and talk until either the sun comes up or you both fall asleep.

it doesn't take a genius to say that megumi is a guarded person, with his walls so high you might even lose sight of him behind them, so it only makes it even more precious when you're able to see him like this in the dim light of the moonlight pouring in through the window. his skin is illuminated by the glow and the way he sounds when he's speaking with his soul bared open in its entirety makes you want to forever immortalise this moment in your memories. you think about all the people who have missed out on experiencing him like this with how his eyes sparkle with passion and how he breaks out into a grin at the slightest joke, leading you to mourn silently for their loss. however, you think of how vulnerable he lets himself become around you, knowing that you'll stay here with him no matter what, and the sweet nothings you hear him whisper to you when he thinks that you've fallen asleep and you realise this a secret you'll want to keep just between these walls.

on the rare occasion that megumi loses his battle to sleep first, he'll silently reach out for your hand and pull you closer to him. you're not sure if he's doing this consciously or unconsciously but you chose not to comment on the growing red glow of his ears as you sink into his touch.

usually, however, what happens is that you fall asleep first as you make your way onto the pillowy fortress that is either of your guys' beds. as you begin to drift off, he's always there watching over you like your very own moody guardian angel. this is the most he'll let himself indulge in your closeness, for now, as he takes comfort in the familiarity of this in-between stage.

itadori yuji tells you that you're beautiful, funny and smart like nothing he's ever seen. he swears on everything he loves in this world, a list that includes you but you don't need to know that yet. you brush off his compliments with practised ease as you try to fight the burning sensation that is spreading across your face. deep down, you can feel your heart fluttering at his compliments but then you think about how you shouldn't be feeling this way about someone who's your friend.

"itadori, you're exaggerating," you say, shoving his shoulder playfully. he pretends to feign hurt, rubbing the impacted area with a slight pout. adorable, you think to yourself before bringing yourself back into the present moment.

"no, it's true really! if you don't believe me, i'll just keep saying it over and over again." he asserts, ever so confident in his stance. it's all true to him, just like how the sky is blue and the grass is green. he'll be the first one to say how pretty, amazing and talented you are in a room full of your biggest supporters and he'll be the first one to say it again when there's no one else.

you roll your eyes half-heartedly at him, trying your best to act nonchalant despite wondering if he might ever feel more for you than your current state of friendship. "you don't say that to your friends. what about nobara, you don't say this to her, do you?"

"yeah, but she isn't you," he responds back. you don't answer him, choosing instead to point out an ice cream stand in the far distance and he lets you tug him along with you. it's okay, he knows that you're scared of whatever lies ahead for you two. he understands that you're worried that he might like you in that way, although he thinks that it's a bit stupid you're still so unsure about it when he wears his heart on his sleeve whenever it comes to you. whatever is it, he'll be happy to go along at your pace, just as long as it means he gets to be by your side like this.

okkotsu yuuta is so good to you and it makes you want it more than everything in between. is it greedy to say that you want more than whatever you two have right now? the longing stares, the lingering touches and the way your faces light up when you spot each other in a crowded room. sure, those were all fine for a bit but how long were you able to survive on just that when he was right there next to you as a constant reminder of the possibility of something more.

you never thought that you would be able to meet someone like him, someone who treats you as if you were the best thing to ever happen with so much care and love radiating from his very being. the way his hand brushes your cheeks when you get even the smallest cuts makes your heart feel like it's about to fall out of your chest with how he takes extra care to scan over your appearance for anything, pausing for a second on your lips. you think to yourself, he must be doing this on purpose, and you want to curse at him for playing with your heart but when he smiles at you with those half-moon eyes, you can feel all of that melting away and more.

the only person you can blame here for your current predicament is yourself really, you were the one who drew the line in the sand when the two of you first met. just friends, you said but in your defence, you had just learned about his history and how cold and empty his has been as well as how much you've been hurt in your own past, so you decided to do what was, at the time, what you thought was best for the both of you. only now, every day you spend with him makes him wish that you would one day wake up and finally take that jump.

yuuta also shares your sentiments, actually ever since he first saw you he knew that you were the one he wanted to live and breathe for, but he doesn't say anything for fear of scaring you off. he knows about your worries, your doubts and your fears and as much as he wants to tell you that you should throw caution into the wind and that he'll take that step for you, he also knows that he can't. so for now he'll do his best to quell your nerves with a gentle hand on the small of your back and a fleeting kiss on your cheek that you'll someday trust in yourself and him to fall headfirst into this new unknown territory, outside of this in between.