Toji SMAU - When Love Was Always There

Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 4 - Breaking the Ice (Slowly)

Summary: Kento Nanami was perfect—disciplined, untouchable, and entirely focused on his future. Emotions didn’t fit into his plans. You were everything he avoided—bold, warm, and impossible to ignore. You told yourself he didn’t matter, but you couldn’t stop watching him.

He never looked your way. Not until the day his perfectly controlled world unraveled, and you were at the center of it.

an: I wanted to thank you all again for the support you‘ve been showing me these past few days. Your numerous comments especially have made my day and motivated me to keep on writing! I’d like to start a new little format in which you guys can ask me any questions or tell me about theories you may have about the stories! So please feel free to send me some questions whether you choose to stay anonymous or not! I’d appreciate it anyway!! Enjoy this chapter! Smooches 💋💋💋

{chapter 3} ; {next}

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 13 - Objection Overruled

Summary: Kento Nanami was perfect—disciplined, untouchable, and entirely focused on his future. Emotions didn’t fit into his plans. You were everything he avoided—bold, warm, and impossible to ignore. You told yourself he didn’t matter, but you couldn’t stop watching him.

He never looked your way. Not until the day his perfectly controlled world unraveled, and you were at the center of it.

an: Phew…. How we feeling? SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 12} ; {next}

taglist: @giasssslife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

The dining room of the Nanami estate was a picture of refinement—high ceilings, a crystal chandelier casting soft golden light, the long mahogany table set with fine china and gleaming silverware. The quiet hum of classical music played in the background, nearly drowned out by the voices of the two families engaged in discussion.

Nanami sat at the far end of the table, his posture rigid but practiced. His father, seated at the head, was deep in conversation with Mr. Takahashi about upcoming business mergers and legal strategies. It was a familiar setting, one he had been raised in, where every conversation had a purpose, every alliance a calculated move.

“The key to a successful firm,” Mr. Takahashi was saying, “is knowing which cases to take and which to leave alone. Not every battle is worth fighting.”

Nanami’s father nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Some lawyers waste their careers chasing ideals instead of securing real power. At the end of the day, reputation is everything.”

Nanami’s mother took a delicate sip of her wine. “It’s like that upcoming case involving the [Your Last Name] family. They always involve themselves in causes that are… questionable, don’t you think?”

Mrs. Takahashi smirked. “Oh, absolutely. I heard they’re throwing yet another charity event soon. Always parading themselves around as if that’s the same as real influence. Honestly, I wonder what they even gain from it.”

Nanami remained silent, his fingers tightening around his fork. He forced himself to keep his expression neutral, even as irritation twisted in his chest. They spoke about you and your family so casually, as if you were nothing more than a misguided idealist playing at generosity.

He wanted to correct them. Wanted to tell them they were wrong about you. But he knew better.

His father was already displeased about his association with you. Speaking up now would only draw more scrutiny—scrutiny he couldn’t afford.

So, he stayed quiet.

Across from him, Ayaka Takahashi, their daughter, turned to him with a charming smile. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, Nanami. Is dinner not to your liking?”

He met her gaze, giving a polite nod. “The food is fine.”

“You always seem so serious,” she mused, resting her chin on her palm. “Maybe you just need the right company to loosen up.”

Nanami didn’t react, but his father did.

“Ayaka is an exceptional young woman,” his father said smoothly, cutting into his steak. “She comes from a family with strong values, and she’s already making a name for herself in the legal world. Kento, you should take the time to get to know her better.”

Nanami kept his expression unreadable. “I spoke with her at the conference. She’s impressive.”

Ayaka smiled. “You think so? That’s nice to hear. Maybe we should have dinner sometime—just the two of us.”

Before he could reply, Mrs. Takahashi chuckled. “Oh, I agree. They would make such a perfect match.”

Nanami’s mother hummed in approval. “We’ve always wanted Kento to be with someone who understands our world. Someone with the same drive, the same ambitions.”

His father nodded, his gaze sharp. “Ayaka is a smart choice, Kento. A relationship should be built on more than just fleeting emotions. It should be built on stability, power, and strategy. You would do well to remember that.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately. He was used to this—his life planned out in careful steps, his future mapped by decisions he was barely given a say in. He was used to expectations.

But for the first time in a long time, he felt like resisting.

And he knew exactly why.

The dinner at the Nanami estate was perfect, by every standard that mattered to his parents. The company was prestigious, the conversation strategic, and the atmosphere calculated.

But for Nanami, it had never felt more suffocating.

As he listened to Ayaka laugh beside him, as his father spoke of futures he was expected to walk into, all he could think about was you.

And the truth he hadn’t wanted to admit.

That no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he didn’t want the life his parents had planned for him.

And he didn’t want her.

He wanted you.

But he wasn’t sure if it even mattered anymore.

The campus cafeteria was a buzzing mess of students chatting between classes, the smell of coffee and fried food lingering in the air. You sat with Shoko and Toji’s reader, idly stirring your drink as you waited for Gojo’s reader to arrive. The day had been dragging, and for once, you weren’t sure you were looking forward to this meetup.

Shoko exhaled a lazy puff of smoke before putting out her cigarette. “Saw Nanami last night, by the way.”

Your interest piqued immediately. “Oh?”

She leaned back in her chair, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah. Looked like he was on a date.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

Toji’s reader raised a brow. “With who?”

“Some rich girl,” Shoko said, waving a hand dismissively. “Ayaka Takahashi. You know, her family’s loaded. I saw them at this fancy restaurant—real expensive place. They looked cozy.”

Your fingers tightened around your cup. Nanami on a date. With another girl.

You felt something you didn’t want to name twist in your chest. He had been pushing you away for days, ignoring your texts, acting cold and distant. And now you were hearing that he had been out with someone else?

You weren’t sure what hurt more—the fact that he had gone on a date, or the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to tell you.

You opened your mouth, but before you could react, a voice interrupted.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!”

Gojo’s reader slid into the seat beside you, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

You forced a smile, pushing everything down. “No worries. We were just catching up.”

But even as you tried to focus on the conversation, your mind was elsewhere.

On him. On the way he had shut you out.

And on the realization that maybe you had been foolish to think you were ever different to him.

Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 10 - The Weight of Silence

Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: short chapter but things will get juicy i promise! i will be uploading chapter 11 later today as well as chapter 5 & 6 of my Nanami SMAU! smooches 💋💋💋

{chapter 9} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 6 - Breaking the Routine

Summary: Kento Nanami was perfect—disciplined, untouchable, and entirely focused on his future. Emotions didn’t fit into his plans. You were everything he avoided—bold, warm, and impossible to ignore. You told yourself he didn’t matter, but you couldn’t stop watching him.

He never looked your way. Not until the day his perfectly controlled world unraveled, and you were at the center of it.

an: maybe this’ll take away some of the sadness y’all got from the latest toji chapter LMAOOOO! SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 5} ; {next}

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog @meganbaby

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 9 - Under a Starlit Veil

Summary: Kento Nanami was perfect—disciplined, untouchable, and entirely focused on his future. Emotions didn’t fit into his plans. You were everything he avoided—bold, warm, and impossible to ignore. You told yourself he didn’t matter, but you couldn’t stop watching him.

He never looked your way. Not until the day his perfectly controlled world unraveled, and you were at the center of it.

an: I’m so sorry y’all… SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 8} ; {next}

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Nanami adjusted the cuff of his suit jacket as he stood near the grand entrance of the event hall. The soft hum of conversations and the distant clink of glasses drifted out through the open doors, but he stayed just outside, avoiding the chaos of introductions and small talk. His eyes scanned the arriving guests, his expression calm but distant, until movement at the bottom of the staircase caught his attention.

You stepped out of the car in a gown that seemed to catch the light in all the right places, the fabric shimmering as you moved. There was an ease to your steps, confidence in the way you carried yourself that drew attention without you even trying. Nanami’s usual stoic demeanor faltered as his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than he intended.

When you finally spotted him, a smile spread across your face, and you made your way up the steps toward him. “Wow,” you said as you stopped in front of him, your tone light and teasing. “Waiting for me already? I didn’t know you’d miss me that much.”

His brow raised slightly, but there was a faint flicker of amusement in his gaze. “You’re late.”

“And you look amazing,” you countered, ignoring his comment. “Though I guess that’s nothing new.”

For a second, he hesitated, then said, “You look stunning.” His voice was calm and measured, but the sincerity was unmistakable.

You grinned. “Careful, Nanami. If you keep complimenting me, I might get used to it.”

“Don’t count on it,” he replied dryly, but there was a faint trace of softness in his tone.

Looping your arm through his, you gave him a quick glance. “Come on, partner. Let’s go show these people how it’s done.”

Together, you walked into the grand hall, the golden light of chandeliers illuminating the elegantly decorated space. The room was filled with influential guests, all dressed to the nines, their conversations blending into a hum of polished sophistication.

The two of you navigated the crowd with practiced ease, moving from group to group. You were the conversationalist, effortlessly charming everyone you spoke to, while Nanami maintained his reserved composure.

At one point, you found yourself speaking with a prominent philanthropist and his wife. The man looked between you and Nanami, his smile warm. “You two make quite the pair,” he said.

You laughed lightly, nudging Nanami with your elbow. “Don’t we? He’s the serious one; I’m the fun one. Perfect balance.”

Nanami shot you a brief look but said nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line that might have been suppressing a smirk.

“And what do you think of the event so far?” the man asked, directing his question toward Nanami.

“It’s well-organized,” Nanami replied simply, his tone polite but distant.

You jumped in to soften the answer. “That’s his way of saying it’s great. He’s not big on small talk, but he appreciates quality when he sees it.”

The couple chuckled, and the conversation flowed easily, though Nanami contributed only when absolutely necessary. As the night went on, you continued to draw him into conversations, subtly coaxing him to engage with the guests.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of mingling, you caught sight of a set of French doors leading out to a garden. You turned to Nanami and whispered, “Escape plan?”

He glanced at the doors and nodded, following your lead as you slipped outside.

The garden was quiet, the hum of the event fading into the background. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers, and the stars above stretched endlessly across the night sky. You walked over to a small balcony overlooking the grounds, leaning against the railing and sighing in relief.

“Much better,” you said, glancing at Nanami, who stood a few feet away with his hands in his pockets. “Admit it, you’re glad we came out here.”

“It’s quieter,” he admitted.

You laughed softly. “Exactly. I don’t know how you survived in there without losing your mind.”

“I had you to distract me,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

The comment caught you off guard, and you turned to him with a grin. “Was that a compliment?”

“An observation,” he replied, though there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze.

“Well, either way, I’ll take it,” you said, looking up at the stars. “It’s kind of perfect out here, isn’t it? Like a scene from a movie.”

Nanami’s gaze followed yours to the sky. “It’s… peaceful.”

You studied him for a moment, a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re not as impossible as you like to pretend, you know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“Maybe,” you teased, leaning slightly closer. “Or maybe I’m just trying to figure you out. There’s more to you than the whole stoic-law-student thing. I can tell.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the distance between you seemed to shrink. “And what exactly do you think you see?” he asked quietly.

“Someone who cares more than they let on,” you said, your voice soft. “Someone who probably feels too much but keeps it all bottled up.”

Nanami didn’t respond right away, his expression unreadable. The air between you seemed charged, and the world around you faded into the background.

You tilted your head, your gaze dropping to his lips. Slowly, you leaned in, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

For a brief moment, you thought he might meet you halfway—but then he stepped back abruptly.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind.

You blinked, stunned. “Nanami, I—”

“I need to go,” he interrupted, his tone steadier now. Without waiting for your response, he turned and walked back toward the hall, leaving you alone under the starlit sky.

The cool night air seemed sharper as you stood there, trying to process what had just happened. Above you, the stars continued to shine, their light indifferent to the moment that had just unraveled beneath them.

If you got a comment notification from me, no you didn't 🫣 I was in the Toji soccer player smau and under the intended comment. Idk how tf I ended here 😭 Also, your pfp is very pretty. Feel free to ignore this lol.

idk what all of this means but i love you. let’s get married.

Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 2 - Thirty Minutes

Summary: Kento Nanami was perfect—disciplined, untouchable, and entirely focused on his future. Emotions didn’t fit into his plans. You were everything he avoided—bold, warm, and impossible to ignore. You told yourself he didn’t matter, but you couldn’t stop watching him.

He never looked your way. Not until the day his perfectly controlled world unraveled, and you were at the center of it.

{chapter 1} ; {next}

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog @nanamineedstherapy

an: she just like me fr. the blank image symbolizes a day in which she hasn’t texted him!

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 7 - The Art of Faking it Too Well

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: rizzler lmao. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 6} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @not-aya @bochichi @emlient @gojoprincesss @havingnonamesucks @n1vi @linny-bloggs @sastreclau

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

You didn’t expect him to actually be on time.

Satoru’s car pulled into your driveway right at 7, headlights off, like he was trying to make a quiet escape from the awkward suburban hell you called home. You opened the door, heart already racing, not from nerves—but from the knowledge that your family was going to witness all of this. Every second of it.

The second you stepped outside, you heard your sister’s voice float out from the living room.

“Oh? Is that Gojo?” Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she all but slithered toward the door. “You sure you didn’t pay him to show up?”

Satoru stood leaning against the car, all long legs and confidence, dressed in black slacks and a soft blue button-up that brought out his eyes way too well for your comfort. He looked up at your sister’s voice, smile tight.

“Hi,” she purred, stepping beside you like she was the one he was here for. “You look—wow.”

Satoru didn’t even blink. “Thanks. So does your sister.”

You blinked, startled, as he offered you his arm and leaned in like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Ready to go, babe?”

You didn’t say anything—just nodded, letting him lead you down the steps, his hand resting lightly on your back.

Your mom and stepdad stood near the window, watching with forced smiles that barely masked their suspicion. You saw your stepfather open his mouth, but before he could say anything, Satoru glanced up and gave them a polite, “Evening. We won’t be late.”

His tone was calm but cool—formal enough to be respectful, but just detached enough to make it clear he wasn’t here to kiss up to anyone.

As soon as you slid into the passenger seat and shut the door, you sighed. “You didn’t have to say all that.”

“I did,” he said, shifting into reverse. “You looked like you were five seconds away from swinging on your sister.”

“She said I paid you to date me.”

“I know.” He smirked as he turned onto the main road. “But then I remembered I’m expensive. She’s not wrong.”

You groaned and elbowed him lightly. “You’re actually the worst.”

“Maybe. But I look really good next to you.”

You tried not to smile. Failed.

The car ride was warm with music low in the background. He talked too much, teased you too often, and made a point to tell you that the highlighter on your cheeks looked “criminally good.”

When you arrived at the restaurant, you realized it wasn’t the flashy kind of upscale—it was intimate. Dim lighting, candlelit tables, soft jazz playing over the speakers. You felt… out of place. But he looked completely at ease, holding the door open for you with a wink.

“You really committed to the fake boyfriend role, huh?”

“I don’t half-ass,” he said simply. “Plus, I like watching you blush.”

You were seated near the window. He pulled out your chair before sitting down himself.

“So,” he said, glancing over the menu. “What do loners usually eat on fake dates with campus heartthrobs?”

You gave him a look. “Anything that shuts you up for at least ten minutes.”

He grinned. “Spicy. I like that.”

You both ordered, and the conversation veered off into something lighter—music, classes, how he once almost electrocuted himself in a lab and had to bribe a TA to cover it up.

But eventually, the laughter softened, and the pauses between words started to stretch a little longer.

You looked down at the table. “It’s weird. I didn’t think I’d enjoy tonight.”

He tilted his head. “Is that your way of saying you’re having fun with me?”

“No,” you said quickly, and then—after a beat—“…Maybe.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You really don’t think very highly of yourself, do you?”

The question caught you off guard. You shrugged. “It’s just… easier when you don’t expect much. From people. From family.”

Satoru went quiet. Not uncomfortable, just… thoughtful.

“My parents are always gone,” he said after a moment. “They throw money at me like it’s supposed to feel like love. It doesn’t. So, I pretend it’s all good. I play the part.”

Your eyes met his. For a second, he looked tired. Like the role of Satoru Gojo—Golden Boy, Campus Royalty—was just that. A role.

“We’re more alike than I thought,” you said quietly.

He smiled, a little softer this time. “Told you I’m not just a pretty face.”

Later, after dinner, he suggested a walk.

“Trust me,” he said, grabbing your hand. “You’ll like this.”

You ended up near the beach—quiet, the kind of spot not many students knew about. The moon was full, the water calm, and he stood beside you with his hands in his pockets, looking at you like you were something he couldn’t figure out.

You looked up at the stars, hair dancing in the breeze.

He watched you. “You look pretty when you’re not yelling at me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips.

You didn’t talk much on the way back. The car was filled with a silence that felt… full.

And then—he parked outside your house. Leaned across the seat. You thought he was going to kiss your cheek, maybe say goodnight.

Instead, his voice dropped low as he whispered in your ear, “Don’t freak out… but we’re being watched.”

Your heart jumped. “What?”

“Someone’s in that car down the street. Been holding their phone up since we got here. Probably sending pics to that gossip page.”

Before you could even process it, he leaned in and pressed you back against the car door. One hand cupped your jaw. The other slid around your waist.

And then—he kissed you.

It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t teasing.

It was full, slow, and hungry.

Your fingers curled into his shirt. You barely had time to react before the kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours like he’d been waiting to do it all night.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, he didn’t move far.

“Sorry,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. “Had to sell it.”

But his eyes said something else entirely.

He walked you to your door, fingers laced with yours until the last second. Your parents were watching again. So was your sister.

So Satoru kissed your forehead and said, “Sleep well, baby.”

Then, with a little smirk just for you, he walked away.

You closed the door slowly behind you, heart pounding. And in your chest—buried under confusion and nerves—was something warm. Something dangerous.

Something that felt a lot like the beginning of something real.

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 3 - Fake It Till You Make It

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: JEEZ LOUISEEEE! SMOOCHEEEES 💋💋💋

{chapter 2} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

You already knew today was going to be bad, but you hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

It started when you woke up late. Your phone was dead—your stepsister had “accidentally” unplugged your charger overnight, and your alarm never went off. You had exactly ten minutes to get ready, which meant skipping breakfast and throwing on whatever clothes you could grab. In your rush, you stubbed your toe against the corner of your desk so hard that you nearly collapsed.

You tried to shake it off, but things only got worse from there.

By the time you got to campus, the café was out of everything except black coffee, which tasted like burnt disappointment. You tried to force it down anyway, only to spill half of it on your sweater before your first lecture.

Then, your professor—who never acknowledged your existence before—suddenly decided today was the perfect day to call on you. It had to be on the one topic you hadn’t reviewed properly, and when you failed to answer, he sighed and moved on. That one sigh was enough to make the students around you turn and look, some of them exchanging glances, some holding back laughter.

You spent the rest of the class staring at your notebook, trying to disappear.

By the time you reached the library, you were exhausted, but just as you sat down and opened your book, a chair scraped loudly across from you.

Before you even looked up, you already knew who it was.

“Why do you look like someone just ran over your dog?”

Satoru Gojo.

You sighed. “Go away, Satoru.”

“No can do,” he said cheerfully, leaning back in his chair. “Saw you sitting here all alone and thought, ‘Wow, that’s kind of depressing.’ So, here I am. Your knight in shining armor.”

You shot him a flat look. “More like my court jester.”

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “Ouch. Right in my fragile heart.”

Ignoring him, you turned back to your book.

He didn’t do silence.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, tapping his fingers on the table in an annoying rhythm.

“What question?” you muttered, already regretting engaging.

“Why you look like someone just ran over your dog.”

You debated whether answering would make him leave faster. “…Because I had a long day.”

Satoru hummed, tilting his head. “Long day or bad day?”

“Both.”

To your surprise, he didn’t joke. He just nodded, like he actually understood.

For a second, you almost thought you’d get some peace. But then, his smirk returned.

“And here I was thinking you were deep in thought about me.”

Your face deadpanned. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “But you still haven’t denied it.”

You shut your book. “Gojo.”

“Yes, my dear?”

“I will kill you.”

His grin widened. “That would require effort. And let’s be honest, you don’t strike me as the type.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

Gojo sat there for another ten minutes, occasionally tapping his fingers on the table just to annoy you, before finally stretching and standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you to your brooding,” he said, adjusting his sunglasses. “But don’t miss me too much.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response.

A Lie That Shouldn’t Have Happened

When you finally got home, all you wanted was a shower and sleep.

But the second you stepped inside, your mother’s voice cut through the air.

“Come to the living room.”

Your stomach sank.

Your stepsister was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, a smug, knowing smile on her lips. Your stepfather sat beside her, looking like he’d just won the lottery.

“We have something to celebrate,” he announced.

You didn’t react.

Your stepsister, on the other hand, was practically glowing. “I got invited to the National Collegiate Tennis Championship,” she said, tilting her head like she wanted to see your reaction.

Your mother sighed, so proud. “She’s worked so hard. It’s an amazing opportunity.”

You forced yourself to nod. You weren’t bitter about your stepsister’s success. It wasn’t her fault she was their favorite. But the way your parents used her as a golden standard—while treating you like you weren’t even worth noticing—never failed to sting.

Your stepfather leaned back in his chair, his expression turning more mocking. “And you,” he said, looking at you expectantly, “what exactly have you been doing?”

“College,” you said, keeping your voice neutral. “Like everyone else.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “But you don’t do anything else, do you? No sports, no clubs. You don’t go out, you don’t socialize.” He smirked. “Do you even have a boyfriend, or are you just wasting your time being forgettable?”

Your stepsister covered her mouth, laughing under her breath. “Dad, that’s mean,” she said sweetly. “She’s just… not really the type to have a boyfriend.”

Your mother sighed like this was the greatest disappointment of all. “She’s always been a bit… invisible.”

That was it. That was the moment.

The exhaustion, the stress, the endless belittling—it all crashed over you at once. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “I do have a boyfriend, actually.”

The room went silent.

Then, they laughed.

Not a chuckle. Not a scoff. A full-blown, gut-wrenching laugh.

“You?” Your stepfather shook his head, smiling. “Oh, that’s rich.”

Your stepsister raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you’re serious?” Her smile widened. “Who is he?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Shit.

“Someone from school,” you muttered.

“Well, obviously,” she said, laughing. “But what’s his name?”

Your heart pounded. “You don’t know him.”

Your stepfather shook his head, amused. “Sure, kid. Whatever you say.”

Your mother didn’t say anything, but the look she gave you said it all—like she didn’t believe you for a second.

Your face burned.

Before they could ask anything else, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs.

By the time you slammed your bedroom door, reality had settled in.

You had lied.

You had actually lied.

And worse? You had no way of getting out of it without making yourself look even more pathetic.

For the next week, you racked your brain for solutions. You considered telling them you broke up with this mystery boyfriend before they could meet him, but you knew that’d just open the door for more insults, more mockery. You thought about faking a long-distance relationship, but that seemed way too complicated.

Meanwhile, Satoru Gojo was everywhere.

You didn’t know why you kept seeing him—maybe the universe was punishing you—but he popped up in the library, at the campus café, even outside one of your lectures. And every single time, he made sure to annoy you.

“You always look so serious,” he teased one day, leaning against the table you were studying at. “Are you plotting world domination or just thinking about me?”

“Neither,” you muttered, turning the page in your book.

“Sounds fake, but okay.”

He was relentless.

And today, after another long, exhausting day, you just wanted to be alone.

Your safe place was a hidden bench near the lake, tucked away behind the trees where no one ever bothered you. It was quiet, peaceful—exactly what you needed.

But as you sat there, staring at the water, a loud rustling noise came from the bushes.

You tensed.

Then, Satoru Gojo stumbled out.

“Are you serious?” you groaned.

“Oh, hey,” he grinned, “didn’t know you’d be here.”

“This is my spot.”

“I don’t see your name on it.”

You shot him a glare. He sat down anyway.

You considered getting up and leaving, but you were too tired to fight.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the rustling leaves and the soft ripples of the lake.

Then, Gojo broke the silence.

“Alright, spill. What’s wrong?”

You scoffed. “None of your business.”

“Oh, so it’s extra bad.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “C’mon, you’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

You tried to ignore him. But he kept poking, prodding, teasing until finally, you snapped, “Fine! I lied to my family about having a boyfriend, okay?”

He blinked. Then, a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Oh, this is fantastic.”

“What?”

“I’ll be your boyfriend.”

You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you insane?”

“Probably,” he admitted cheerfully. “But listen—this works out perfectly. You need a fake boyfriend, and I need a serious girlfriend for my family thing. Boom. Problem solved.”

You gaped at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.” He placed his hands on your shoulders, grinning like a lunatic.

Your brain struggled to keep up. Gojo? Pretending to be your boyfriend? This had to be a joke.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered.

“Ridiculously genius,” he corrected.

He must have seen the doubt on your face because his expression softened slightly. “Hey. It’s just a deal. No strings attached, no weird expectations. Just two people faking a relationship to make their lives easier.”

You hesitated.

You wanted to say no. But… he wasn’t wrong.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if you make this weird, I swear—”

“No promises,” he sang.

With an annoyed sigh, you pulled out your phone. “We need proof.”

The first selfie was awkward. You sat stiffly on the bench, trying to keep as much space between you and Satoru as possible. He, of course, leaned in way too close, grinning like an idiot as he snapped the first photo.

Click.

You glanced at it. It was bad. You looked uncomfortable, your lips pressed into a tight line, while Satoru, on the other hand, looked effortlessly photogenic—like he wasn’t taking a fake couple’s picture but rather doing a promotional shoot for some high-end brand.

“This is terrible,” you muttered.

Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. “That’s because you look like I’m holding you hostage.”

“You are holding me hostage.”

“Emotionally,” he agreed, scrolling through the photos. “Alright, let’s try again. This time, look at me like you actually like me. Pretend I just said something funny.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Blatant lies.” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I’m hilarious. Try to keep up.”

Click.

The second was worse. You tried forcing a small smile, but it came out looking like you were in pain.

Satoru examined it and snorted. “You look like you just swallowed a lemon.”

“I hate this.”

“No, you just suck at it,” he corrected. “Here, let’s make it natural.”

Before you could react, he suddenly threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in.

“Hey—!”

Click.

“Much better,” he said, showing you the photo.

It was… convincing. His arm around you, the effortless smirk, the way your faces were close enough to suggest something more. You still looked hesitant, but at least you weren’t grimacing anymore.

“This could work,” he said, sounding pleased.

You shifted uncomfortably. “You’re way too comfortable with this.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Natural talent.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. We got the pictures. We’re done here.”

“Not quite,” he corrected. “We need a convincing story. How long have we been dating? How did we meet? What’s your favorite thing about me?”

“Nothing,” you deadpanned.

“Ouch. Okay, my favorite thing about you is—” he tapped his chin thoughtfully before grinning— “how easy you are to mess with.”

You groaned. “This was a mistake.”

“Too late now, babe,” he teased, stretching out the last word obnoxiously. “We’re in this together.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Fine. How did we meet?”

“Obviously, you fell madly in love with me the first time you saw me.”

“Try again.”

“We met in class,” he said, thinking. “I was struggling with my engineering assignments, and you offered to help. We bonded over late-night study sessions, and boom, love blossomed.”

You squinted. “You don’t struggle with engineering.”

“They don’t know that,” he pointed out. “Besides, it makes me sound relatable.”

You sighed. “Whatever. And how long have we been together?”

He grinned. “Long enough to make it believable, short enough that you don’t have to explain why I wasn’t around before. Let’s say… a month?”

You shrugged. “Fine.”

“And my favorite thing about you?” he pressed.

“That you shut up when I tell you to.”

He laughed. “We both know that’s not true.”

You shook your head, stuffing your phone into your pocket. “I’m leaving.”

“Not before you post those pictures,” he reminded you.

You hesitated.

Posting them meant committing to this ridiculous lie. It meant opening yourself up to questions, speculation, and attention—all things you had avoided for so long.

Satoru watched you, head tilted. “Cold feet?”

You exhaled slowly. “No.”

With one last look at the photos, you posted them to your Instagram. Satoru did the same, tagging you with a caption that read:

“Finally got her to admit she’s obsessed with me. Took long enough. ❤️”

Your phone immediately started vibrating.

By the time you got home, the notifications were nonstop.

Messages. Comments. Likes.

And by morning, one thing was clear:

You and Satoru Gojo were now the hottest gossip on campus.

Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 7 - Hit First, Ask Later

Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: do we love it? things certainly are getting interesting….

{chapter 6} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings

The gym is practically empty when you step inside, save for one familiar figure leaning against the mats. Toji’s already there, gym bag at his feet, wrapped hands resting lazily over his broad chest. He looks up when you walk in, and the flat expression on his face makes it very clear he’s unimpressed.

“You’re late,” he says, his voice dry.

You glance at the clock. “I’m two minutes late.”

“Two minutes too long,” he shoots back, pushing off the mats. “What, couldn’t decide which outfit screams I’m useless the loudest?”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

Toji grins—a sharp, taunting curve of his lips. “What? I’m just making sure you’re ready for this. Doubt anyone’ll care what you look like when they’re tryna drag you into a van.”

“You are insufferable,” you mutter, dropping your bag onto the floor with a loud thud.

“And you’re two minutes into wasting my time,” he counters, motioning toward the center mat. “Start stretching, princess. I don’t wanna hear you whining when you pull something.”

Gritting your teeth, you sit down to stretch. Toji’s pacing in front of you, all broad strides and sharp glares, like he’s waiting for you to screw up already. “You’re hovering,” you say, annoyed.

“Making sure you don’t keel over mid-warmup.”

You shoot him a glare, but he just smirks and crouches down, watching you. Watching—as if he’s analyzing every movement. It’s both infuriating and unsettling.

“You done pretending you know what you’re doing?” he asks.

You straighten up, brushing your hair from your face. “I’m ready, coach.”

“Good,” Toji says, rising to his full height. “We’ll start with the basics—what to do if someone grabs you.” He steps forward, extending a hand. “I’ll grab your wrist. You try to get free.”

You eye him warily. “And if I can’t?”

“Then congratulations. You’d be kidnapped in five seconds flat.”

“Wow. Very motivating,” you deadpan.

He smirks. “Motivation’s for people who need hand-holding. You’re just here to survive.”

Before you can snap back, Toji grabs your wrist—firm, unyielding, but not enough to hurt. It’s a shock how easily his hand wraps around yours, like your bones could snap with just a flick of his fingers.

“Pull toward the thumb,” he instructs, voice curt. “Not the fingers. Thumb’s the weakest point.”

You yank experimentally, but his grip doesn’t budge. Toji doesn’t look the least bit phased. “You trying or just giving up already?”

“Give me a second!” you snap, tugging harder. You shift your weight and pull back the way he showed you, and to your surprise, his grip gives way.

Toji lets go, tilting his head with something that might be faint approval. “Huh. You’re not completely useless.”

“Oh my god, is that a compliment?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he says flatly, stepping back. “Again.”

You repeat the motion a few more times, each time smoother than the last. Toji keeps his commentary short, but it’s still sharp enough to grate on you.

“Quit overthinking. Your brain’s holding you back more than I am.”

“Don’t pull like you’re scared. You either get free or you don’t.”

“You call that fast? You’d be gone already.”

By the fifth time, you’re sweating and glaring daggers at him. “Do you have to be such a dick about this?”

Toji raises a brow, completely unfazed. “You want me to lie? Pat your head and tell you you’re doing great?”

“You could try not insulting me every five seconds,” you mutter under your breath.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replies casually, and for the first time, you think you catch something almost playful in his voice.

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before stepping behind you. “All right. New scenario. Someone grabs you from behind.”

You freeze. “Wait—from behind?”

“Yeah. Like this.”

Before you can react, his arm hooks loosely around your shoulders from behind. It’s not tight—he’s clearly not trying to hurt you—but the closeness throws you off balance. You stiffen, hyper-aware of how warm he feels and how close his voice is when he speaks.

“Relax,” he mutters. “You’re supposed to be learning, not freezing up.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t freeze if you warned me first,” you snap, trying to mask the nervous flutter in your stomach.

Toji huffs a low laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure kidnappers’ll give you a heads-up. Focus. Drop your weight, twist your hips, get out of my grip.”

You try to do what he says, but it’s clumsy—your weight’s off, and you can feel Toji roll his eyes behind you. “You’re not a statue. Move, dammit.”

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder.”

Frustrated, you shift your weight again, twist, and finally pull free, stumbling forward slightly. Toji watches you, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “Took you long enough,” he says, though his tone lacks real bite.

“That’s because you’re built like a damn brick wall,” you mutter, brushing yourself off.

Toji smirks faintly. “And whose fault is that? Yours for being weak, or mine for being me?”

You stare at him, incredulous. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable,” he fires back, turning to grab his water bottle. “Same time next week?”

You blink, surprised that he’s suggesting another session. “You want me to come back?”

Toji looks over his shoulder, a faint smirk on his lips. “You need it.”

“You’re the worst,” you mutter, though you can’t stop the small smile tugging at your mouth.

He shrugs. “Better me than someone who’ll actually hurt you.”

The words linger for a moment, heavier than his usual insults, and you’re not sure what to make of them. But before you can respond, Toji grabs his bag and heads for the door, tossing one last look at you over his shoulder.

“Try not to embarrass yourself next time.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving you standing alone on the mat, glaring after him—but this time, your frustration feels different. Because underneath it all, you know he’s right: you will be back next week.

And whether you admit it or not, a small part of you doesn’t mind.