There's some nasty shit you could write with Yutamaki when you take into account how much fighting has been apart of their lives, and there for their most emotional moments. Do you think they fight sometimes, just beat the shit out of each other? Energy needs to go somewhere, cursed or otherwise, and what better way than beating the one person you trust with all of it into the dirt?
Or maybe they're being uncommunicative, because they're both weird and cagey about things, and one things leads to another and, well, what's another hole in the crater of Shibuya, or a broken bone when you have RCT?
I don't know. I just feel like there's a real potential in the way they could beat each other and lick the blood up. You see it
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"M'ki," Yuta slurs, drunk like a giraffe that found a stash of alcohol. He's tall enough to look like one. "M'ki, stay 'ere." He grabs her wrist.
Watching him like this is a rare treat. He hates having his control taken from him, and he's such a lightweight nerd that the two shots of the Kibao Vodka that Miguel Oduol gifted him were enough to have him stumbling.
"Yeah?" She breathes out, giggling, slipping her wrist from his hand and watching this look of absolute sorrow paint his face. "I don't know, Okkotsu, my bed sounds pretty nice right now."
Yuta whines, full and unashamed. "No, nah, dundo that." He lunges to her, pathetic and slow even to a normal eye. "Don't leave, stay 'ere. Please?" He falls to his knees slow and dramatic, and Maki really regrets letting him have any.
"I gotta go home, dude." She takes a single step back, and— yep, he instantly scrambles after her. But he's drunk, and stupid, and smacks hif face into the floor. He doesn't move. "I gotta mission early in the morning."
"Fushiguru owes mmmme a favor." He's barely understandable now. "Let 'im take it. Please?" Puppy eyes. This bastard.
"Hmmm." She steps forward, just one, and Yuta looks like a worm wriggling up to set himself on his knees. Human knees, not worm knees. "That is tempting."
He jumps up, gripping her tank top around the stomach, then releases her and grabs her pants around the thighs like his anchor. "Yesssssss."
He turns and presses the side of his head to her belly, rubbing against her like an overexcited dog. "Yay, thanthk ya." He slurs, face smushed.
Maki shoves him off with a fond exhale, sitting down on the sofa. A comfortable thing, covered in throw pillows and all of the blankets that Yuta spends far too much money on.
Yuta, in clingy Yuta fashion, nearly teleports on to the seat next to her, folding around her legs. He doesn't even say anything, just looks up at her with this big, stupid, loving and hopeful eyes.
She's used to it. She grabs the half-empty, warm bottle of water from the coffee table and grabs his face.
"You're gonna drink this and sober up a little." She has to pour it down his throat like a gas tank, but he doesn't fight her. She holds it with one hand and reaches with the other to to grab a full bottle. Still warm. Sucks.
She pours that one down his throat as well. "I know water won't help much, but it's something." She reaches over and grabs some of the breadsticks from the pizza place that she ordered their dinner from.
"Thank you." He beams. Idiot.
———————————————————————————————————
"Maki." He says, slow and careful. He's sobered up a good amount in the last three hours, head on her chest so he doesn't fall. Again.
For the strongest sorcerer alive, he's very prone to falling. Maybe it's unfair to judge his ability to stand while he's drunk, but it's more fun to tease him with.
"What's up?" She moves her phone up to look at him. He might be more sober, but there's still a slight flush to his face, relaxed and sleepy.
At some point, she lay down on her back, and Yuta, famously clingy, wiggled in between her legs and rested on her. Anyone else, she'd break their neck.
Stupid Yuta.
"You'll stay with me?" It's embarrassed and soft. "Forever, I mean."
A pause. "Huh?" She would glare, should glare, because what the actual fuck dude, but she's flabbergasted. "Stay with you? Forever?"
He lifts his head and rests his chin on her clavicle, close enough that she can feel the warm of his breath on her face, breathing heavy. "Yeah, stay with me forever." He repeats like it's the simplest thing in the world.
He wets his lips with his tongue, swallowing. "It's been so long since we had time to be with each other. I miss you." His eyes dart everywhere on her face, from the scars to her chin and then her hairline, each cheekbone and back to her eyes. "I need you, Maki."
Maki blinks. "Dude. The fuck is wrong with you." She shifts up and he slides down, not expecting it.
"Nothing!" He defends softly. "Nothing, nothing— you don't need to need me back." He reaches for the hand not holding her phone with both of his hands, pulling it to his face. He braces one hand on her wrist, firmly pressing his thumb to the pulse point, and uses the other hand to cover the one on his cheek.
"I just need you with me." He makes direct, unbreak eye contact now, like he's peeking into her soul. "Please?"
"Yuta." She's firm and neutral in tone. Her mind is screaming. "Explain what the fuck you mean, idiot."
He pouts and pushes into her hand harder.
"Y'know. I need you to stay with me. I love you, Maki." He says it often, easy, and she's jealous of that ease, but now she's caught off guard and she feels completely naked. Bastard.
He grabs the phone out of her hand and drops it to the ground, pressing the now-free hand to his chest— his heart. The sensation of it beating against her palm and fingers is amplified by her heavenly restriction, like an earthquake localized in his skeleton.
"That's my heart." He says. No shit, dumbass. "Sometimes I feel like it only beats for you." And fuck this guy, goddamn it.
Maki curls her fingers until the tips have lifted her palm away. "Don't say that, Yuta." She breathes out, a little afraid. "I could punch a hole through you and pop it."
"I know that." He smiles. "You're so strong and amazing and, and— I'd be okay if you did that. It's okay, Maki, it's okay if it's you."
She pulls her hand away, shaking. "Shut up, Yuta. You're still drunk. Fuckin' idiot." She sits up straighter. Yuta rests on his knees, dumb long torso making her look up at him.
"Not enough, Maki, I mean it— you don't have to love me the same way, " He clarifies, like that's the issue here, "you can love me like a friend. Or a boyfriend. Maki, you could love me like a dog if you want." He laces their fingers together, palms touching. "Just stay, please."
She stares for a long time. Yuta gets nervous—when isn't he— and shifts awkwardly, squeezing her hand over and over.
Looking at him, she can really see how focused he is. The alcohol has absolutely passed through him mostly, face only lightly pink now. He doesn't look quite hopeful, but something close. Close. Needy. Desperate.
"Yuta." Her voice shakes, and damn, that's embarrassing. "You're drunk." He frowns, and lifts her hand up to place it between them in the air. He squeezes her hand again.
"I'm not. Not very. Not a lot." His tone speeds. "Maki—" he whines, what a sound that is, the strongest sorcerer alive whining.
"Later." She cuts off. "You wanna talk, that's fine— but that's later, Yuta." She stares into his eyes, making sure he understands this isn't something she'll discuss right now.
"We can talk about staying and love and all that sappy shit later." He nods, smile on his face soft and timid.
Yutamaki the kind of ship where they definitely call each other boyfriend-girlfriend/husband-wife, but the emotional closeness and overlapping of their souls, lives, hearts, and bodies is so intimate that, on a spiritual level, they cannot be defined by something like a label. They are a binary star system with their own individual solar systems, but they are always just a step away from slamming into each other and forming a black hole, or maybe they already have and this ship is the aftermath
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I can never take those "Maki is the cuck because Yuta wants to be kissing his demon gf Rika" tweets seriously because have you seen them. Yuta goes thirty minutes without a kiss and becomes scary and weird. Maki probably rips someone's arm off for being too close to her before she's had her morning kiss. They're feral and killy.
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this whole thing is just the vague outline of a longer story i intend to write when i have time 👍👍👍
tw for gore and shit
yuta being scared at the idea of having some remnant of gojo left in him after shinjuku is so special to me. not one moment after the fight does he feel like he's truly, wholly himself— surely shoko missed something, there's sky blue shards of diamond in his brain or his soul, satoru's last will and testament engraved into him, and no amount of looking in the mirror, stretching the skin around his eyes in search of a lighter color, or checking his scalp for hours for even a single strand of white, nothing convinces him.
rika doesn't change; doesn't look different, eyes still red, voice still her own. "yuuuuuutaaaa" she singsongs, floating around him like a just-barely-filled-enough helium balloon. "stupid. gojo's gone. yuta is yuta." she says. "you're silly"
sometimes he tries, in the privacy of a very secluded forest, or the crater still in shinjuku, to summon a hollow purple or an infinte void, slams his palms together to teleport. gojo is here, he thinks, satoru gojo left a shard of himself in his student, and it doesn't even have the kindness to show itself. just buzzing uselessly like a bee stuck under a cup
maybe yuta has maki cut him up. he trusts her at the deepest level, allows her her divine eyes and soul-seeing to set him straight. lays under her while she maps out her cuts, muttering anatomical jargon that sounds like ac buzzing to his faraway mind. idly he thinks she's beautiful
maki refuses to cut his skull open, already she can't wash the sight of yuta, freshly cut in half and craved up like choice cuts of a butcher. it's imbedded itself too far in her mind for her to do, but she does preform a crude—crude to her. yuta, totally unbiased, thinks she does super—cut, y-shaped and stretched from just under his collarbone to just around his navel. rika partially manifests around his entire being like armor, a second skin that didn't belong to satoru gojo. she pumps rct into everything that doesn't prevent maki from looking at all of his organs. she plungs her hand in, feeling his soul over her knuckles and the back of her hand like water; it's the same cool, flowing feeling. yuta's soul is a thing of wonder and terror
"not gojo" she says, because she saw the soul of satoru like this too when he died, split in half like yuta was during the showdown. "not a fragment of satoru gojo exists in you, yuta" it's relief and anger
serial killer yuta and a knowing-but-not maki. maki who always sees a little crazy in his eyes. a little unhinged gaze every now and then. walks in on a kill and yuta stains her cheeks red by cradling her and saying he had good reason. is this anything
Maki wearing rosaries and other holy items with vampire Yuta. Watches his natural morals and self control wrestle with the need for her blood. Watches him curl around her like a cat, staring at her throat, at the symbols and idols preventing him from feasting. Makes the strongest sorcerer alive beg
Making Yuta say and do whatever she wants. He won't force otherwises.
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Maki who needs needs needs. Needs to have Yuta, needs to have something, someone to be hers, Maki who lost so much and lost more still, who lost everything. Maki who needs someone to hold and know them to be hers. Not to replace Mai, not fill the gash she left, because Maki plays with the wound everyday, just to feel out the healing collagen and keratin and whatever else. She doesn't want replacement or fulfillment, but she needs someone to belong to her all the same.
Yuta who always has too much. Rika too strong, overwhelming, his aura and soul pulsing against the souls of those around him like a storm, a Special Grade, a monster, a national threat. Yuta who's been too much with nowhere to focus that without killing. Murder or hold back being his only choices.
Yuta who can fill the space for Maki. Who can walk in lockstep with her in battle, at home, who can wash her hair when she's so tired that moving sounds like hell, who can wait while she struggles to find the words she needs, who stands, patient, letting her admit that yes, she does love him, even when she wants to break his ribs, who can walk with her in the store deciding over almond or soy milk because they're hosting a dinner party, and Nobara has issues with dairy and that doesn't really matter because she'll end up eating all the cheesecake and watermelon ice cream from the market, and god, Yuta, just pick both, we both can afford to buy the damn store—
Maki who can take it, Maki who's a blank in Jujutsu, a gap in the world, a gap that can handle the overwhelming crushing power of his energy, his ability, a gap that can handle an insurmountable him before being too much, who can out last him, can beat him when he needs it and take the affectionate brunt of his love, his bone-deep love that floods her like a dam break. Maki who understands what it's like to have an excess of something and not enough of something else, feeling the two infinites combining into some painful kind of hollow purple.
