#jjk.ex

[seoafin]

morgan im on my KNEES for the yuuta fic.

for u anon............

-

Yuuta falls silent, gaze stuck on the toes of his shoes.

You turn to him curiously. “What is it?” You ask. He had been fine, perky even, just seconds prior when he had been so eager to walk alongside you after you beckoned him. Before, he had been several steps behind you, as if to give you a wide berth. It gave you the mental image of a tiny duckling trailing after its mother.

He lifts his eyes, and you’re surprised to find his lips pressed in a small pout. “It’s just—” the tips of his ears flush red, but in an uncharacteristically bold move he meets your gaze. “You called me ‘Okkotsu-kun’ instead of ‘Yuuta’.” He takes a deep breath. "I'd like you to call me Yuuta."

You stare at him. What an odd thing to fixate on.

He wilts like a dying plant immediately. "I mean—" he stammers, voice pitching higher and higher, hands floundering in the air. "If you want. You don't have to. You really don't—"

You feel an ominous pressure surging into the air, pressing you down to your knees. It takes all your strength and willpower to stay upright. To smile and pretend you don't notice the mass of cursed energy gathering, incensed, and she stares daggers into your back.

"Callllllll himmmmmmm Yuuutaaaaaaaaa!"

[seoafin]

I didn't realize you guys would like the family stuff so much 😭

[seoafin]

.

Satoru momentarily glances upwards. He’s still unhappy. “Fine. Right Suguru?” “That’s right,” you hear him say from behind you. His tone is carefully measured. You don’t want to look at him and you can’t discern his feelings either. “A secret.” You exhale. “Thank you.” After a second of agonizing hesitation, you lean forward and press a small, short kiss to Satoru’s waiting lips. When you pull back, you shyly say, “kiss tax paid.” “That was nothing,” Satoru says immediately. “Ten more.” You frown.

[seoafin]

i know i would love to read about stsg suffering in this love hotel fic

oh they're suffering alright

“So…there was a girl wasn’t there?” You start, referring to when you had last seen them. The three of you, out for drinks with Shoko at a bar near TokyoU, and the pretty, doe eyed girl who had struck up a conversation with you in the bathroom about Satoru and Suguru. She had smelled nice, and her hands had been warm and soft they had grasped yours. You smile encouragingly. “You brought her home.”

Satoru and Suguru stare at you. You stare back. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. Maybe they don’t want to talk to you about their romantic trysts. Maybe you’re just forcing conversation where there is none. People talked about these kinds of things during sleepovers, didn’t they? Huddled together, laughing and teasing each other about their romantic endeavors.

This is…not what you envisioned. 

Suguru is beginning to look faintly embarrassed while Satoru’s lips are thinly pressed together, just a nudge from being downturned.

You sweat. Tough crowd.

It’s not like…you hadn’t seen them all get into the same taxi. Or the way the girl whose name you had never caught had been clinging to their arms the entire way. 

“Did you get her number?” You ask. “For a date or…” you trail off. You think you might really be digging yourself into a whole.

“Ah,” Suguru says, looking embarrassed. “There wasn’t really an opportunity…”

Once again, silence hangs in the room.

You quickly move to change the topic, in hopes that it’ll lighten the mood. “When I was in Kyushu, a man gave me his number.” It had been a relatively quick interaction. An extra helping of the famous local cuisine of Miyazaki beef, and a piece of folded paper atop of the napkin you had been given paired with a wink. “Shoko thinks I should call him!”

…You’re doing this wrong. You must be doing this wrong. Why else would Satoru and Suguru be looking at you like that?

Satoru exhales, running a hand through his damp hair, looking questionably weary. “He knew you were a tourist. He was probably looking for a quick—”

“Kyushu seems a bit far,” Suguru interrupts with a small, tight smile.

You blink. Satoru’s words aren’t lost on you. You are still contemplating them when you say, “Oh.” It wasn’t as if you had been planning on actually calling the man anyway. Maybe he had been wanting you solely for sex. It was obvious from your Tokyo accent you were a tourist. It would’ve been easy enough. “You think?”

[seoafin]

alright for all my stsg voters come get y'alls food

[seoafin]

the hs fic is like....literally straight up crack.

“Ieiri is a girl,” Yaga-sensei says slowly, as if it makes all the difference. You interpret the rather roundabout statement: Ieiri is a girl. You are a girl. You already have something in common. You could be an alien next to her. You doubt she’d want to talk to you. “Try talking to her."

You find the prospect—the idea of talking to her—terrifying. She won’t like you. If Gojo thinks you unbearably boring and distasteful, then she’ll find you twice so. 

—

“You’ll make a pretty good pension.” His discerning gaze sweeps over you. “Granted you live that long. You’re nothing special.”

—

A knock at your door rouses you from sleep. You open bleary eyes, gaze sliding to the clock on your nightstand. You’re late. It’s probably Yaga-sensei at the door. You stay still for a few minutes longer to gather your wits, despite the incessant rapping on your door.

It’s not Yaga-sensei. Your sensei knocks exactly three times in quick, timed succession. If you don’t respond, he usually leaves you alone. There are voices outside the door.

You move to rise, a hand on the edge of the bed, but you must have miscalculated because instead of a solid, firm surface, your hand slips off the bed and takes your entire body with it.

There’s a loud smack as your face, specifically your forehead, comes into contact with the hardwood floor.

The door slams open. Three faces peer into your room.

You don’t bother to move. Instead, you stay immobile on the floor, having already given up on the day. When the three of them leave you'll clamber back into bed. Or maybe you'll just fall back asleep, here, on the ground. You can hear Gojo-san guffawing in the background. He sounds like he’s having a great time. At least someone is.

Someone clears their throat.

You raise your head, forehead stinging. Ieiri-san and Geto-san stand in front of you, already dressed in their pressed school uniforms, looking more put together than you have in days. Geto-san is politely smiling, but his lips twitch in a way that tells you he’s stifling a chuckle of his own.

“Are you alright?” He offers you a hand.

[seoafin]

He hums. “Did you know the sun looks brighter today? Food tastes better. The air feels fresher. I was walking down the street today and I saw a—”

Shoko exhales, letting a puff of smoke escape her lips. “You’re awfully calm for someone whose bride to be is currently missing.”

Satoru flashes her a wry smile, leaning back on his arms. “I guess everything really does change when you get married.” He sighs happily. “I’m a changed man now, Shoko.”

“You’re not married.”

“Not yet,” he corrects. There’s a certainty to his words. “I'm getting married.”

[seoafin]

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