Feel Like My Fort With Stories Are Fluff And Comfort

feel like my forté with stories are fluff and comfort

PUPPY LOVE.

summary — pretty boy wants to cheer you up for the new semester!

genre — fluff

“I fucking hate this,” you groaned, eyes wandered all over the calendar and notes you had displayed on your desk while you organized. January, the start of the new year and a new term for college— And here you were, already not pumped up for the tedious months headed your way.

Yuta looked over and briefly glanced at your crumbled posture in the chair. His phone was lazily situated within his grasp as he giggled in amusement.

“It won’t be that bad, it hasn’t even started yet,” he told you, trying to compromise the situation with a lighter heart. You, however, didn’t have that much positivity.

“That means another four months of stress, exams… Fuck man!” A burst of agony once again left your lips, breaking down more and you plopped your head on the table.

Yuta shook his head at your wailing, and placed his phone down as he leaned back in his chair. Seeing how you were and how he also had way more classes to take up for the term, it was no surprise that the year would automatically be tough for the both of you. He quickly glanced back to your head buried in your arms, and briefly cleared his throat.

“Say, you aren’t doing anything next week though, right?” he asked, shifting his position on the chair back and forth.

“Nope,” you replied softly, a deep sigh escaping not long after. “I was planning to lock myself in my room—“

“Let’s not do that,” he interjected amusingly, chuckling away at your pessimistic tone. “Wanna do something? Something fun, I mean. To lighten our moods for the semester.”

You immediately perked up, sitting straight in your chair and you turned to him with wide eyes.

“Like what?” you asked curiously, moving your body to face him.

Yuta looked up at the ceiling in thought, you could see the calculations run through his head. After a couple seconds, he turned to you as well and rested his elbows upon his knees.

“Remember that café you said you wanted to visit? It was the bunny one, right?” he suggested and looked for your sign of approval, to which you lightened up at his words. An obvious sign to him, of course.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ and you wanna go,” he answered, a soft smile played on his lips. You nodded and finally relaxed, the tension in your shoulder unwinding.

“How did you remember? I mentioned the bunny café like… Two months ago?”

He let out a laugh before bashfully looking away, finding solace in the many fluffy pillows you had on your bed and the night stand. A tiny, porcelain bunny sat proud next to the alarm clock. A knowing expression came to his face and mumbled out:

“I just know you.”

—

AN; creds to mu_kmijj <3

came down with an agonizing fever… again. hope my college friends don’t berate me for missing so many classes 💔😔

went to a club recently, tell me why no r&b songs were popping that night 😞

BATTLE OF WITS.

summary — sampo loves to rile people up, no matter who it is and what rank you are. but, once you step into his life, could he still keep up his uncaring demeanor?

genre — comedic fluff

Sampo is an easy guy, albeit, a con-artist but a real hunk of work. If something doesn’t catch his eye within a second or stimulate his brain for more than a minute… You can say bye-bye to trying to talk to him.

Majority of people view the picture on the vacation postcard of “not-giving-a-shit” and fall in love with the idea — swimming through the clear blue waters in this mental Mediterranean sea can be more deceiving than many think. It’s a one-way ticket to losing the most important skill in life, to feel concern. He for one, couldn’t care in the slightest. It all goes to show as to why he took up the very interesting and controversial means of work in the first place.

But once he stumbled across a person completely opposite to him, he couldn’t help but feel even more irritated. Of course, it was you, with your logical and reasonable thoughts and actions. Your morals were way higher on the scale than his, and he definitely could assume your IQ and EQ followed suit. He never felt so ridiculed and threatened by your demeanour because of this aura of “coolness” and “rationality.” That was the issue, he was always the smart one— or the lack thereof. If both your brains jostled within the ring, his would be pummelled to smithereens.

He wanted to brush off this problem as per usual, forcing himself to play the “unbothered” role because his ego couldn’t handle it anymore (ahh yes, the “be the bigger person” card.) But if this were a choice between mind over matter, the latter would reign dominant. He needs to showcase his true skills, it was his only “skill” anyway.

“Hey,” Sampo called out to you while you fumbled through your satchel. You gave him a quick eyebrow raise in response.

“What’s seven times eight?” he blurted out, standing directly in front with his arms crossed over his puffed chest. Yeesh.

You, on the other hand, gave him an indescribable expression that probably amounted to confusion, irritation, and most likely concern. “What?”

“C’moonn… I don’t have all day!”

Rolling your eyes, you continued to fish out some papers from your bookbag and grumbled the answer. “Fifty-six.”

“— Riddle me this. Imagine you’re in a tough situation where your pal is crying over their partner who was absolutely shit to them. Do you, A, comfort them, B, make fun of them, or C… Listen and give advice.”

Now it was completely indescribable about what you’re feeling or thinking. You slowly looked up to meet his eyes with a blank stare. You were judging him hard.

“… A with a mix of C.”

“No, only one answer!” he protested, wagging his finger in the air.

“Then A.”

He dropped his hand and returned to the same arm-crossed position. “This isn’t fun.”

“You think you’re not having fun? This feels like an interrogation, Sampo,” you playfully snapped, closing your book bag. “The fuck was that about?”

A mere shrug was all he responded with. “Just wanted to… Figure some things out,” he vaguely responded, to which, prompted your irritation even more.

“Sampo—“

“Okay, okay! Just heard from a little bird that you’ve got a head on your shoulders,” he replied in defence. “Wanted to see if it was true or not.”

“Of course I have a head on my shoulders,” you reiterated, shaking your head in disbelief. “What? You mean like, smarter?”

Sampo nodded his head. “Precisely.”

His answer made you immediately chuckle, letting out a breathy laugh. “Shouldn’t this little questionnaire prove the point? Such dumb questions.”

“Hey! They made you think though!” he argued. “Putting you on the spot and such.”

“… Easy questions like that won’t put anyone on the spot.”

Sampo inched even closer as he let out a prideful scoff, flipping his floppy bangs back with calloused fingers. “Fine. I’ll prepare something harder then—“

“Nope,” you interrupted.

“One thing’s for certain, you are one hell of a party pooper,” he stated dejectedly, rolling his eyes as he straightened his posture. “Natasha mentioned you were smart n’ all, but how is that any good if that pretty little head of yours is full of brash comments and half-assed sarcasm.”

“Since when were you and Natasha friends?” you deadpanned, the same sarcastic tone dripping from your lips.

“We always were! Hey! Don’t give me that face!” Sampo responded but as soon as he was speaking, your figure was slowly walking away from him. You lazily waved a hand in the air without turning around.

You, 1. Sampo, 0. Try harder next time, big guy.

WARZONE.

summary — once you caught his eyes, he cannot stop thinking about you.

genre — comedic fluff!

Megumi couldn’t help it— Help his slight and ever-so-growing obsession over you, that is.

Ever since you, a new student, transferred to the Tokyo Metropolitan location of Jujutsu High he couldn’t help but be curious. Sure, it’s always the talk of the school if a new face shows up out of the blue… But you? It felt weird to him. He plastered on his signature stoic expression as he waltzed down the halls from his dorm, letting a faint yawn escape him as he neared Yuji’s door.

“Coming in, you better be wearing clothes or else,” he forewarned the boy, opening the door lazily and slowly removing his shoes. As he placed it neatly to the side of the door, an unfamiliar voice caught his attention.

“You don’t wear clothes? So you just walk around butt-naked and everything?”

The sound of Yuji’s whining instantly pierced his ears right after. “No! Megumi only enters my room after my shower, so technically… Not my fault!”

The boy in question rolled his eyes and walked around the corner of the entrance, seeing you and Yuji situated at his PC.

Megumi let out a soft sigh of relief and muttered out, “Just so you know, normal people wear clothes after they take a shower.”

“W-Why are you still acting like I’m completely naked?” Yuji groaned out, slumping in his gamer chair with a loud huff. “I had socks on.”

Megumi could see your expression in the corner of his eyes, a look of disbelief and pure confusion.

“… Socks?” You reiterated, blinking blankly at the boy in front of you.

“Yeah. Socks,” Yuji replied, perhaps a little too proud of his statement. A soft slap sound from Megumi’s palm met his forehead as he shook his head.

“But you didn’t think underwear would be the priority?” he deadpanned.

“My feet get cold,” Yuji replied and casually grabbed a nearby chip packet from his drawer of endless snacks. “Anyway, whatcha doin’ here Megumi?”

This time, Megumi looked around in thought, pondering about why the heck he was even there in the first place.

“I need some paper,” he boredly responded, making a beeline to the opposite side of the room in a hurry. Hell, he had no idea if his only chance to not look like a fool in front of you was actually going to be there, but with little hope, he continued to stride over to Yuji’s messy bookshelf.

He scanned from top to bottom, bottom to top, side to side, his eyes were getting overstimulated with how much Yuji had stuffed all kinds of trinkets on the ledge of the shelves.

“Lined? Blank? Ooh, or these fancy eco-friendly ones I made?” Yuji called out to Megumi, shuffling out three small stacks of different types of paper. Megumi let out a shaky breath, of course they would be at his desk. The very area he wanted to avoid. He turned around and reluctantly hobbled back.

“Lined.”

Taking one sheet from the stack, he swivelled his stature away again to the entrance, obviously leaving you and Yuji bewildered.

“Just one sheet of paper?” You asked Megumi, who was struggling to step into his boots.

“Yeah,” he muttered, grunting as he finally slipped his foot in after struggling for what felt like a century. He could already feel a thin layer of cold sweat form along his nape as you spoke.

Yuji turned to you and shrugged his shoulders, before patting you roughly on the arm. “Can you force him to stay? I need another person on my team for Warzone.”

“Why don’t you ask him? He’s still here—“

The sound of the door shutting at the front was enough for you to shut up instantly.

“— Nevermind.”

At your words, the pink-haired boy stretched his arms up and stood on his feet, rolling his shoulders as if he was preparing to lunge into battle. The mischievous glint in his eyes gave you the impression that he was, in fact, going to fight off his dear friend for him to play a game… Or prepare himself to be beat up, and then plead his surrender. As much as you wanted to watch the gruesome battle between two teenaged boys have a bickering show-down, you interrupted Yuji and pushed him back into his chair.

“Fine, let me talk to him,” you sighed, before heading your way to the entrance. Yuji on the other hand squealed in delight, following right behind you before grabbing hold of your wrist to high-five his hand with yours.

“Great because I was really not looking forward to another argument— I mean, I would win of course… But I would feel bad for Megumi if he lost! Soooooo… I’ll let you talk to him,” Yuji exclaimed, boastfully leaning against the doorframe with his chin held high. You stood outside his dorm room and shut the door in his face, before walking to Megumi’s room right beside his.

You knocked once. Twice. Possibly three times, you’ve lost count, until it finally opened. Megumi opened the door with a grumble, not bothering to look up as he barked, “I don’t need anymore paper—“

“Not about paper,” you added, peeking your head around the slight crack he managed to pry open. “Come play Warzone.”

Megumi eyed you blankly and you couldn’t help but feel a bit weirded out. Was there a strand of hair sticking up? Something wrong with your face? No, it was him trying to calm his nerves and train his brain to go back into his zen state of mind for a moment— Just for a second! So he can actually talk to you properly without worrying about stammering his words. Thankfully, it’s something he’s good at.

“Warzone?” he questioned before sighing, “Did Yuji ask you to do this?”

“Yes and no,” you glanced back at Yuji’s closed door, before turning your attention to Megumi again. “I guess he was pre-planning to ask you and it seemed like he was really getting into it, so I just offered.”

Megumi stiffened. If there was one other thing Yuji was good at, it was be subconsciously picking up on emotions at the right times (only the right times, he’s not giving him that much credit), and perhaps he had caught on to Megumi’s white lie he suddenly used. It was a stupid cover-up, he had tons of paper in his room already.

“Ahh, I see,” he mumbled before quietly stepping out of his room and closing the door behind him. You smiled at his acceptance to your invitation and walked back to Yuji’s room with Megumi trailing behind.

“… You’re new, right?” he asked, stuffing one hand in his pocket and using the free one to reach out to open the door for you.

You quickly thanked him, entering Yuji’s bedroom and hearing his screams. He must be in a practice game by now waiting for the both of you. The muffled sounds of gunshots and comms gave you enough context.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” you said playfully with a laugh, making your way inside and opting to sit on Yuji’s bed. Megumi trailed in and flopped onto the free chair next to Yuji, and continued to talk to you. “You seemed the type to be in his own world”

“Well, I am… But, I did,” he responded to you quietly with his eyes locked onto the screen. A faint ‘nice kill’ emerged from his lips as he watched Yuji’s fingers fly across the desk with his mouse, headshotting an opponent. His eyes flicked back to you in intervals and tapped the tips of his fingers on top of the desk. He cleared a lump in his throat before breaking the awkward silence between you two.

“So, why did you transfer here?— To this school I mean. Not in a rude way,” he stammered, briefly looking at your face and turned back to look at Yuji’s screen. He wanted so badly to crush his forehead into the wall.

“Came here from the Kyoto region, I think Gojo wanted me to be here,” you mumbled, watching Yuji completely get demolished in the game.

“If Gojo sees potential in you, you must seem like a well-adaptable individual,” he added, eyes still glued to the screen. “That being said— he also has the urge to take someone under his wing if you’re substantially adorable to him and are in need of his ‘educational expertise’… As so he would call it.”

You let out chuckle, letting your gaze wander to the two bodies haunched over the screen; Yuji, childishly hogging the keyboard even though he wanted Megumi to play with him, and Megumi, not caring in the slightest. As you looked at him, the subtle glance of your eye caught you off guard— He was already looking at you.

“What?” you mouthed at him, narrowing your gaze until he shakes his head. A hand comes up to gently rub his cheeks, covering the slight smile you didn’t see. The faintest hue of pink dusted his cheeks, reaching down to the column of his neck.

“Nothing.”

____________

AN; SYEREN here! been a while, how’ve you been? :3 creds to sssA_km