#busy cube 1 year old

[decoartspacefinds]

Excited to share the latest addition to my #etsy shop: Travel Busy Cube Natural wood Cube Gift Montessori Activity Sensory Cube for trip cubes 1 year old Toddler Gift 2 year old Latch https://etsy.me/3MZsQ1b

[tofics]

Nothing Like Some Neighborly Love

Part 1 - Series Masterlist

Pairing: no outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: Goodbye New York, hello Austin! - After a split from your ex, you're in dire need of a fresh scenery. Texas seems to provide just that. Your grandmother, fresh out of a hip surgery and in need of assistance, is happy to have you move in with her as a solution for both of your predicaments. Ever the hands-on person that she is, she also seems to want to rectify your fresh singleness, and she knows just the guy...

Word Count: ~4500 words

Warnings: mentions of a manipulating ex, mentions of cheating, mentions of a surgery, age gap (reader is early 30s, Joel is an unspecified amount (~10-15 years) older than her)

Your arrival in Austin, Texas is anything but spectacular. Besides your bags being some of the first to appear at baggage claim absolutely nothing out-of-the-ordinary happens - it's about as normal as a Monday-morning flight can be.

Not for you, though. Today marks the first day of your new life.

No big deal.

Except it's a huge deal. With every inch that you put between yourself and your old life in New York, you feel your shoulders relaxing a bit more and the tight-knit knot in your chest loosening.

Finally, at long last, you're free.

Free of the asshole that, up until a couple of months ago, was your boyfriend, your roommate, your co-worker.

Your lying, manipulating source of self-doubt, tears and misery.

Good fucking riddance.

"Oh honey, c'mere you!" Your grandmother pulls you into a surprisingly tight hug. For a lady who had hip surgery just two days ago, she seems to be at the top of her game.

"Gammy," you smile and return her embrace, even if not as forcefully. Strong arms or not, she did just come out of the hospital. Better to be a little more careful.

"Come in, come in! Let's get you out of that heat." Your grandma shuffles out of the door and down the hallway with the help of her rollator. You step into the house after her, dragging your two suitcases behind you.

Everything looks just like you remember. The beige carpet that flows from the hallway into the open living room and up the stairs, the brown tiles of the kitchen area, the light flowery wallpaper on the walls - as far as you can tell, not a single thing has changed. It even smells the same, like fresh laundry and soap and a faint hint of your grandmother's perfume.

You can't imagine a more comforting scenery after everything you've been through.

"How was your flight, honey? And do you want anythin' to drink?"

If it wasn't for the rollator, it'd be hard to tell that your grandmother just had a major surgery. She's already bustling about in the kitchen when you enter the open living and dining area, moving at the same speed you've always known her to. Watching your grandmother at work is like watching a busy bee, always doing something, fingers always moving. It goes without saying that your grandmother is not a woman known for sitting still or taking a break.

You already know her answer, but you have to ask anyway. "Gammy, shouldn't you be resting?"

"Restin', restin'. I hear that damn word one more time, I'm gon' have a fit!" She drops two ice cubes of frozen iced tea into each cup, then adds a lemon slice. "Doctor's said I'm s'posed to be movin'." The ice cubes clink and crackle when she pours fresh iced tea on top. "You told me to follow them orders!" Your grandma shakes the big spoon your way accusingly and you can't help but grin at the image.

"That's true, I did. I also said I'd move here to help you, grandma."

"Honey, if I can't pour no more damned iced tea, I want you to put me in my grave. Until then, I'll pour my own drinks. Now get on over here n' take those glasses over to the couch, will ya?"

You do as you're told and sit down next to your grandmother on the couch, making sure to use coasters for your drinks. Glass rings on the furniture did not go over well in this house.

"See? I can ask for help just fine." Your grandmother winks at you and then clinks her glass against yours. "Cheers, baby. Now tell me, how was your flight?"

"It was fine. Boring, uneventful. Just how I like my flights to be." A sip of your glass floods your mouth with the taste of your childhood summers, sweet and lemony and filled with your grandmother's love to the brim. There's no other iced tea quite like it.

"Good, good. And how are you doin', baby? Hm?" Her hand squeezes your thigh as her eyes roam over your face. You know the look: it's the look of scrutiny, the same one she uses any time she wants to get the truth out of someone. You've seen it being given to your mother, your father, your grandfather, even neighbors. You yourself have been at the receiving end of it a few times in your life. The result is always the same - the truth. Your grandmother is not a woman that's lied to.

"Honestly? I feel like a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders." You sigh, both for effect and because it's true. Setting foot onto Texas soil was already liberating, but sitting in your grandmother's living room has you relaxing more and more by the minute. "I'm just so glad to be here. This couldn't have come at a better moment. Not saying I'm happy you had to get hip surgery, you know, but I'm just glad it all worked out with you needing help and me needing a new place to figure out where to go from here."

You squeeze your grandma's hand on your thigh and she puts hers right on top, squeezing you back. "Oh, hush. Y'know you're welcome here anytime, and I'd much rather have you here t' help me out than some stranger comin' into my house every single day."

Despite your circumstances, you can't deny how lucky the timing of it all has been. Your relationship had been crumbling for months and it seemed like no matter what you did, all your efforts were in vein and largely not reciprocated. To make matters worse, your job was suffering under the pressure of your dissolving relationship as well. You and your boyfriend worked at the same elementary school, you being a teacher and him being the principal, and while sharing a workplace and commute had been something out of a dream come true for the first two years together, it quickly posed a problem when your first problems emerged.

The final nail in the coffin came in the form of him being the nail and the coffin being his secretary. It was so cliché that you didn't know whether to laugh or cry when you first found out. In the end, you did neither, just packed your things and left. That part was easy, with a circle of friends who offered up their couches and open ears immediately. The work part? Not so much. By now you'd say that working under your ex while another woman was actually under him was the worst part of your final months in New York.

You needed to get out. You were already out of your joined flat, the job was the next thing to go. Then your grandmother mentioned she'd need to get surgery on her hip and just hated the idea of having a stranger coming to her house every single day to help her with her day-to-day errands.

The plan basically wrote itself.

Your grandma was delighted by the idea of you moving you here. A temporary arrangement until she's all healed up and you have figured out where to go from here. It's basically a two-birds-with-one-stone situation.

After you've finished your iced tea, your grandmother insists on showing you around the house. "Gammy, come on, you really should sit down, at least a little," you try to convince her, but she's not having any of it. "I know it looks like it hasn't changed much, but I've had some things done since you were here last. Now you'll wanna know where everything is if you wanna help, right?"

You don't even bother contradicting her and she pulls herself up by the handles of her rollator with a triumphant look.

The first room you tackle is right by the entrance, opposite of the guest bathroom. It used to be your grandfather's office, but you're surprised to find it all turned around, now with a bed in the middle of it and an assortment of bedroom furniture to go with it.

"This is my new haven, at least for now." Grammy shuffles into the room and carefully plops her behind down on the raised bed. "Got help from a neighbor a street over. Nice young fella, handsome too." She shoots you a meaningful glance that you decide to ignore. "Him and his brother got some of the stuff from upstairs down here. I got this bed on loan just until I can get back into my old chambers upstairs. Doc said the stairs shouldn't be an issue, but I just wanted to make sure." A few approving pats on the mattress.

"I'm impressed, Grammy. I'd have thought you'd force yourself up the stairs every single night, no matter what. I'm glad you're cutting yourself some slack somewhere." You know your grandma appreciates your candor, but you also know how hard this situation is on her mentally. She has always been an active woman and being physically impaired can't be easy for her. You press a soft kiss to her forehead to emphasize your praise.

"Yeah yeah," she grumbles but then still squeezes your arm. "C'mon now. I wanna show you the upstairs."

The changes upstairs are less drastic, but still noticeable.

For one thing, the master bedroom is full of your grandfather's old files, various stacks piled around the room. It's a temporary set-up that you mean to sort through in your upcoming weeks here, a thank you for letting you stay and your way of chipping in, as your grandmother refuses to accept any kind of rent or payment in general for your stay.

Your own bedroom has also received a slight makeover. Previously a guest room that served as storage for when no guests were in town, the room used to be somewhat cramped, yet still cozy. You've always slept in this room and never minded the wild assortment of furniture and various gadgets, but your grandmother went all out in preparation for your visit and had all of the "junk" removed and stored in the garage downstairs. Now, on top of new furniture, the walls sport a fresh paintjob and the closet is completely empty, waiting to be filled with your own clothes and belongings.

"Grandma, you shouldn't have!," you exclaim but can't hide the excitement in your eyes as you take in your new four walls. The twin bed got exchanged for a queen, which, now that everything is stored downstairs, comfortably fits against the back wall under the window. Despite your solo-self, it comes with a nightstand on each side, matching the color of the dresser to the right and the desk tucked into the corner next to the door. Ever the prepared host, your grandma has already put a small bouquet on one of the nightstands and fresh sheets on the bed.

You spin around and bury your grandmother in a tight hug, suddenly overwhelmed by the love that clearly went into the preparation of your arrival. "You're the best," you whisper against her neck as a couple of tears spill from your eyes.

There's no place you'd rather be.

Your spend your first few days in Austin getting reacquainted with the city. As a child, you'd come here for every single summer break, so you know your way around the neighborhood well enough, but a lot has changed since you strolled around the streets in your dungarees and pigtails. Mostly it's just different shops or a new building here and there, but the neighbors have changed too. You're sad to find out that one of your favorite neighbors, an old man named George who grew the sweetest strawberries in his front yard, passed away just a couple of weeks ago. Another couple two houses down, whose daughter you used to play with on your childhood visits, has moved away to the north. The list of changes is long, but besides old George's death, there's nothing too drastic.

Just as expected (and hoped for), you have no time to dwell on your recent split. With the way the relationship went for the past years, you kind of checked out of it mentally a long time ago, but finding out about the affair still kicked you in the guts. Luckily, you're too busy to get lose yourself in a thought spiral about it, all thanks to your grandmother who is keeping you fresh on your toes.

Being the busy woman that she is, she has a whole list of errands for the week, consisting of groceries, check-ups and social calls. You keep thinking that if it wasn't for her rollator and her slower, slight wobbly walk, you'd hardly know the woman was operated on just days ago, and you're not alone. The same sentiment is expressed to you wherever the two of you go, your grandmother being a well-known and respected woman in her neighborhood.

On Saturday, just five days after your arrival, you take her to the local church. Despite not being big on faith, she has been a member of the volunteer group of the church for decades, and a cherished one at that. The moment you push her wheelchair through the door, other volunteers rush over and swarm your grandmother with questions about her well-being. Grammy makes a point of saying there's no need for the fuss, but you can tell that she's touched by the community's care for her.

The meeting discusses the idea of a block party that's been floating around for some time now, but was never realized.

"Lottie, do you even think you could handle it, being in recovery and all?," an elderly man asks directed at your grandmother. The look she shoots him in response drains some color in his face, and some other members at the table laugh. "I'm insulted you'd even ask, Frank," your grandmother replies with a hint of sourness in her voice, but then her smile grows wide and there's a mischievous spark in her eyes that puts you on high alert. You know that look. Your grandmother is up to something.

"Much as I hate to admit it though, you might be right. I'm not at the top of my game, no denying that. However, that's where my lovely granddaughter comes into play!" All eyes swivel around to you, including your grandmother's, the mischievous sparkle present as ever.

Uh oh.

"As many of you already know, my granddaughter has temporarily moved in with me to help me out during my recovery, gracious soul that she is." Gracious soul? Grammy is laying it on thick. You cock your head slightly to the side with raised eyebrows, all while maintaining a smile on your face. What are you doing? Your grandmother reads the silent question in your facial features but offers no explanation, her smile just turns more sweetly. "As a teacher, she has her fair share of experience with organizing events. Ain't that so, sweetheart?"

"I mean, I've organized two talent shows, but that was in collab-," you begin, still unsure of where this is going, but Grammy cuts you off.

"See? She's perfect. I'm sure she can fill my shoes just fine, and I'll still be there behind the scenes anyway."

Before you can utter another word, you are crowned as head of the block party planning committee. As soon as the decision is made, the group gets down to business and starts mapping out a rough draft. Besides the obvious cake buffet, whipped up and provided by members of the volunteer committee, the only other safe participant is the church's kids group, who, according to pastor William, plan to host a lemonade stand. By the end of the meeting, you have an extensive list of possible collaborators to hit up. As head of the committee, it falls in your jurisdiction to get local business on board.

"Alright, that looks like a solid list. I trust Lottie's granddaughter will do a fine job of getting lots of business on board." Pastor William smiles warmly at you and you can't help but feel like he's already forgotten your name again. Then again, he's got a big flock. Can't blame him if he doesn't remember every single sheep by name.

"And we've got Anne, Derrick and Kirsten for decorating, as well as our kids group. That just leaves the question of construction. Who's gonna supply us with stalls or booths? Any ideas, folks?"

"I'm sure Joel Miller would be happy to chip in. Him n' his brother got that construction business, remember? Sweet boys. Helped me set up my lil' hospital ward situation I got back at home," your grandma chirps up, and suddenly, you understand the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

What an elaborate and canny way to set you up. Wow.

You bite on your lip to hide the grin that threatens to spill across your face, keeping your laughter inside until after the meeting. Once you bring it up in the car back home, Grammy plays the innocent act. "I got no idea what you're talkin' about, honey. Just suggested a guy I know that does good work and has a good heart."

"Right, because especially the good heart is extremely relevant when it comes to building things," you chuckle.

"Sure it is, if it's volunteer work. And I'm tellin' you. That Joel, he's got a heart of gold."

You can sense the way your grandmother's eyes are boring into the side of your skull, but you keep your gaze focused on the road ahead of you.

Heart of gold or not, you're nowhere near ready to be dating again.

"Yeah, come on in, Lottie said you'd swing by."

It's late in the evening and his porch light hums above the two of you, casting a golden light on your silhouettes and long shadows on the ground. The fly screen creaks as Joel Miller holds it open for you. You shimmy past him with a small smile, tugging your folder of papers to your chest so they don't rub against him.

Joel's house smells like wood chips, old leather and something distinctly 'homey' that you can't quite put a finger on, but makes you feel very at ease. The scent engulfs you as you step into the house, briefly interrupted by smell of him, a mix of soap and aftershave and just the tiniest tinge of sweat.

It's an intoxicating combination.

So much so that for the briefest moment, you have the instinct to lean a step back and sniff him, but you catch yourself before you embarrass yourself.

"Kitchen's down there. Got a table and everything for your paper collection." Joel motions down the hallway with a quick and friendly wink at you. You follow his direction wordlessly and sit at the aforementioned table, feeling the tips of your ears growing slightly red.

Your grandma wasn't kidding when she said he's handsome.

You'd chalked it up to her trying to set you up, talking him up the same way elderly ladies tend to talk about men that are younger than them. 'Handsome' and 'smart-looking' are standards in that vocabulary box. You couldn't have known that this time, the description would be right on point.

"Want one?" Joel's got his head in the fridge, holding out a cold beer to you over his shoulder.

"Sure, thanks." Usually you're not so tight-lipped. In fact, you've probably talked more in the past few days than you do in a normal school week, and that's saying something. Going around town and chatting up local businesses about participating in your block party had your mouth going at a hundred miles per hour, figuratively speaking. Between speaking to people in person and confirming spots via your cell-phone, it has been a couple of very word-filled days.

And yet, now that you're with another potential 'client' you have to recruit for your endeavor, your speech well seems to have dried up.

It could have something to do with the fact that visually, Joel Miller is exactly your type. Besides his physique - tan biceps visibly stretching under a tight t-shirt that might be a size too small for him - he's got warm, brown eyes with laugh crinkles around them and a head full of salt-and-pepper hair that pairs beautifully with his scruffy-looking beard. By the looks of it, he has ten, maybe fifteen years on you.

Not really an issue for you.

Your ex, cursed be his name, was a chunk older than you too. It was just the type of man you drifted towards, the kind that's a bit ahead of you in time. In your experience, it pays off maturity wise in a way that men your age just can't compete in, even if your last boyfriend wasn't the best example.

Older men just have a grip on you you can't explain, nor deny.

"So." Joel sets the two bottles of beer down on the table, then slides onto the chair across from you. "What can I do for ya? Lottie said somethin' 'bout you guys needin' somethin' built?"

He screws the caps off of both bottles, then slides one over to you. "Cheers." Your bottles clink together and you take a few chugs, grateful for the liquid running down your dry throat. Whether that's from all your talking or a physical reaction to Joel, you don't know, and you're not sure you want to find out.

"Yeah, that's right," you finally say when you put your beer down half empty. Joel glances at your bottle with one raised eyebrow and half a grin on his lips, but doesn't say anything and instead motions for you to go on. "It's for the church's block party. The volunteer group, which my grandmother is a part of, is putting it together. It's supposed to be this come-together opportunity, get-to-know-your-neighbors kind of thing. I've been going around the past couple of days, seeing who wants to join and maybe offer a booth or a stall."

"Looks like you were quite successful with that." He nods at the wild stack of papers in front of you, post-its sticking out left and right and scribbles all over. You laugh and shuffle through the papers.

"It looks more than it is, but yeah, lots of people want to join, thankfully. Now that's where you come in." You pull out a numbered list and slide it over to him.

"This is everyone that wants to join. Problem is, we don't have enough booths for everyone."

Joel skims over the list, then whistles. "Phew. That's a bunch. How many of them you got stalls for?"

You pause long enough for Joel to look up from the list and notice you biting on your lip. "Umh. None of them?" Your grin is awkward and apologetic at the same time. Joel stares at you for a second, a dumbfounded expression on his face, then breaks out into a bellowing laughter. It's warm and deep and infectious and has the corners of your lips rising into a genuine grin.

"Oh, you're somethin'," he says breathlessly when he recovers from his laughing fit. "I can definitely see the relation to Lottie."

You shrug apologetically again and bite down on your bottom lip, the grin still lingering on your face. "What can I say? Persuasion runs strongly in this family."

"That so?" Joel leans back in his chair and puts his arms behind his head. Before you can help it, your gaze flickers across his across his arms, from his prominent biceps all the way down to where his torso meet his jeans. You look away quickly, but get the feeling Joel caught your stare by his smug grin. "I ain't said yes yet."

He does say yes. You come home giddy, excited by your success of rounding up participants for the block party and flustered from your hour at Joel's house.

It didn't take him long to officially agree, though you had no doubt that he would.

You also have no doubt that Joel Miller has been flirting with you.

There is even less doubt that you liked it.

You surprised yourself. By the time you wrapped your first meeting up, you asked for his number so you could reach him in case of changes or the like. Though the block party really was the main reason you required his number, you couldn't deny finding a little bit of joy in the idea of having his number in your phone. He had smiled all smugly too when you'd asked, his brows wiggling suggestively for just a second before he reached for the pen in your hand and scribbled his number down on one of your papers. "There you go, darlin'," he'd said, and you had to fight the urge very hard to bite your bottom lip at the mention of the endearing term.

It only occurs to you now that your grandma probably already has his number and you asking for his number could have come across as you flirting.

Oh.

"Honey, that you?," your grandma hollers out of the living room when you enter her home.

"Yeah Gammy, it's me," you call back and set your papers down on the side table near the front door.

"How'd it go?"

You tell her about your meeting with Joel in the most nonchalant way possible while you help her chop up veggies for dinner. She listens intently and is delighted that Joel has agreed to build the booths, but doesn't seem surprised by it either. Once you're finished with your summary, she gives you that inquisitorial look again.

"So?"

"So what, Gammy?"

"Don't fool me, honey. What'd you think?"

You keep your eyes focused on the carrot your peeling, determined not to meet her gaze. You just know she'd read everything in your eyes.

"Yeah, he's a nice man," you say, but she just tsks at you and swats your arm with her cooking spoon.

"You know damn well that's not what I asked."

"What do you want to hear then?"

The lack of reply makes you look up. Grammy is staring at you with an anything-but-pleased look on her face.

"What!," you exclaim defensively. Her response comes paired with another whack of her spoon. "He's a good man! You should give him a chance."

"Oh my god, Gammy. He has a kid." You groan, but pictures of Joel's biceps dance across the back of your mind.

"So? You're thirty-two, old enough to be a mom. 'Sides, I ain't tellin' you to marry the man, I'm just sayin' go out, have some fun."

"Oh well, in that case. If I'm not supposed to marry him."

You giggle and jump away when the spoon launches for you a third time, only narrowly missing you by a few inches.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

Find more entries for the hot dilf summer challenge by @hellishjoel here!

[hypnoneghoul]

Sundown: Chapter 1

WC: 2,6k

Relationship: Pre-relationship SwissAlps

Tags: Transfeminine Mountain, AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, First Meeting, Fluff, Protectiveness, Discussion About Being Transgender, Transphobia  (warning for that if someone's sensitive to it), not from swiss tho he's supportive!!!

Swiss has been travelling for a while. He finally gets to a place he can rest in and meets an unique individual. He's immediately enamored.

Notes: comm for @jazz-bazz, first part of our au! ty bex <3

Read chapter 1 under the cut or on AO3.

He’s been sweating his ass off for three days before something resembling civilization has finally come along. He’s half dead, his chick is half dead, and all he wants is to get a pint of cold beer and a damn bed.

The town—barely big enough to be called such—is obviously sparsely populated. Swiss doubts it’s even inhabited at first, but the closer he gets the more signs of life he’s noticing and the hope in him grows. He leans down to pat his chick’s neck and sighs at the puff of dust coming off of her.

“Soon, girlie. I’m gonna give ya a good brush, you deserve it.” The mare nickers and the pair continue their slow walk toward the town. It doesn’t take that long for them to make their way into the shadow casted by the town’s buildings. It smells like cow’s shit, but the people obviously have more water and food than they really need, which means there is a chance Swiss and his horse will get some. If not given freely, he’ll take it, but he is tired and he hopes their visit in that place will go smoothly.

Swiss doesn’t see any heads peeking out of doors or windows to look at him, neither threateningly nor curiously, as he looks around searching for any sign that would indicate where he can find a bar. He really needs a beer.

His knees crack when he jumps down from his mare. The ground is dry and a cloud of dust arises as his boots touch it. He finds something that could be a spot for travelers’ horses and as he leaves his chick there he hopes nobody will shoot her off if he was mistaken. It’s a solid roof over a spot covered in a thick layer of straw, with buckets full of fresh looking water hanging off of wooden beams and cubes of hay under them. Inviting enough.

Swiss pulled the reins over the mare’s neck and pulled the bit out of her mouth before tying her to one of the beams by the water. He hopes she won't be too picky. “Drink, girlie, I’ll be back soon.”

He pats her on the ass on his way and walks away, heading into the adjoining building. The batwing doors’ hinges squeal loudly as Swiss walks into what indeed is a saloon. It’s nearly empty, only two men are sitting in a corner and talking quietly over drinks. Swiss scans the space and even though it’s empty, it seems nice. The men from the corner don’t acknowledge his presence, but he doesn’t crave attention this time, so it is fine by him. It’s a bit colder there than outside and he already feels some relief.

Swiss goes straight to the bar and just as he’s sitting down on one of the squeaky stools the barmaid walks out from behind a dark brown curtain hanging between the shelves. A gorgeous, tall wo…man? They are a very pretty man, if that's the case. He shrugs, though, it’s none of his business.

They are wearing a long, light green dress—a little old fashioned in style, but it’s a good piece. Little dirty-white apron covers the dress from their waist down to where their knees are under the skirt. The dress doesn’t have sleeves, only straps digging into their shoulders and going down to create a laced neckline that makes their tits look very compelling. Their hair is long and wavy, a beautiful shade of dark amber flowing down their back and over their shoulders.

Their eyes, though…oh, their eyes are what makes Swiss’ belly swoop and his mouth go even drier than it already was. Big—adorned by thick and long lashes—and in the color of the healthiest, most fresh, summer grass ever. Swiss haven’t seen grass as green in years.

“Anything to drink for you?” They ask, picking up a rag to wipe the bar. More to busy themself than because it’s dirty. If anything it’s dusted over from unuse. 

“Well, ain’t ya a pretty thing?” Swiss winks, his head tilted to the side. He knows he most definitely looks like a creep, but he can’t stop staring.

“Oh, me? Uhm–thank you?” they stutter as blush creeps up their cheeks, coloring them a light rosy pink. Gorgeous. “What…what about that drink?”

“Get me a pint of some good ole beer, sweetheart. Pretty please.” 

“Mhm,” they nod, obviously flustered, and turn to disappear behind the curtain again. Swiss sighs—he really is exhausted—as he rests his chin on his fist, his other hand scratching at his stubble. Well, more like a beard, he didn’t have much time or opportunities to take care of it, so it’s a bit unkept now.

Soon enough the bar…person returns with Swiss’ beer and hands it to him with a light smile. “There you go.”

“Thank you kindly,” he mutters, nodding, before pressing his lips against the chilly mug and tipping it back. He moans at the refreshing feeling washing over him the moment beer pours into his mouth.

“Is it that good?” the person chuckles, leaning against the wall with their hands crossed over their chest. Their beautiful, full chest and it’s–Swiss shakes his head. He ain’t seen no tits in ages but he isn’t an animal, damnit.

“Nah,” he snorts before taking another gulp. “It’s piss, but I’ve been dry as a desert, sweetheart.”

The person curls their lips into a little amused smile and turns, grabbing the rag and starting to wipe the bar again. Swiss tries to not be obvious in his staring—looking from under the rim of his hat. The stranger is so captivating, he can’t tear his eyes away. 

“Listen, I don’t mean any disrespect, sweetheart, but I’ve gotta ask–” Swiss starts after clearing his throat, but gets cut off. The other probably expected it to go that way.

“You’re the nicest person I’ve encountered in a long time,” they say with a smirk and Swiss bows his head, grinning. “Phrase your question as nicely and there’s a chance I won’t take out the revolver from under the bar and shoot your hat off.”

“Damn, sweetheart.” He recoils dramatically, raising his arms defensively. “You’re too pretty for me to offend, don’t ya worry.”

“So?”

“Are you a boy or a girl?” The question lands, but no offense shows on the person’s face. Swiss continues. “Cause if you’re a boy, then you’re the prettiest one I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen a lot—and if you’re a girl, then…well, then you’re the prettiest one of those.”

“I’m a woman, kind sir,” she laughs, fully this time, and the melodic sound of it goest through Swiss’ ears right to his heart, “you haven’t proven yourself worthy of permission to call me a girl. Yet.”

“Understood. I'd love to try and prove my worth.” He winks and lifts the mug nodding, as if in a toast. “You’re a gorgeous woman, ma’am.”

“Thank you. I do understand the confusion, though, even my own body didn’t get the memo.” She sighs, fidgeting with her hands and worrying her lip between her teeth. Swiss gets a sudden urge to gently pull it free, lest she breaks the skin and paints her mouth with blood, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, they’ve just met. Swiss doesn’t know what possessed him.

“Huh, that’s so…” He mumbles, staring holes into the already rugged wood of the countertop. With the corner of his eye he sees the barmaid pull up a chair on the other side of the bar and sit on it, right before him.

“Unnatural?” she finishes for him, but her guess of his thoughts couldn’t be falser.

“No, I wanted to say it makes you unique. It’s amazing,” Swiss says—confident—looking up at her again. She is so much closer now and so many more details of her beauty are visible to the man, and if she’d let him he’d count all the golden freckles adorning her face a hundred times over.

“Oh…” she whispers. Swiss doesn’t count her freckles, but he does follow the path of a blush crawling up her cheeks. “Well, uhm, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel amazing most of the time.”

“That must be tough,” he replies, wondering. “Is it like…like you don’t feel right in your body? Like it’s not yours?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” she has no idea why she’s suddenly spilling her innermost thoughts to a stranger she has met not even half an hour prior. There is something about him, though, that makes her feel safe and maybe carries a chance of finally being understood. Even if just a bit. “And sometimes I just feel…wrong all around.”

Swiss hums in acknowledgement and leans down to his mug, swallowing down a few gulps. Once his mouth is unoccupied again, he asks, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“It’s Mountain,” the barmaid says, “but I prefer just Mounty.”

Swiss snorts at that, but immediately regrets it upon seeing Mounty’s brows furrow in confusion and her eyes fill with a tiny bit of hurt. “Sorry, sweetheart, I ain’t laughing at you! My horse’s name is Monty, that’s why!”

“Oh. Oh, okay,” she relaxes and chuckles, too, a bit embarrassed by her immediate defensiveness. “Yeah, that is funny.”

“Nice to meet you, Mounty.”

“Won’t you give me your name?” the barmaid’s eyelashes flutter and Swiss wouldn’t be able to refuse or lie to her even if he wanted to.

“Swiss, sweetheart,” he says, lifting up the mug again. “My name’s Swiss.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Swiss,” Mounty replies, her face lighting up with a soft smile, and if Swiss was standing it would make his knees buckle. Still, his insides warm up and twist and he’s never felt like that; so stupid and…vulnerable.

Swiss feels himself blush and he quickly hides behind his mug.

“Would you–” Mounty is about to ask him something, but a squeak of the doors and heavy steps interrupt her.

“Afternoon!” a stranger calls out, walking into the saloon as if it was his own ground. Swiss looks up at the barmaid and sees her tense up—her lips turn into a thin line and her brows furrow. She knows the man and she isn't fond of him in the slightest.

Swiss doesn’t like that look on her.

“Afternoon, sir,” Mounty mutters, standing up. The man doesn’t reply, just walks over and sits down by the bar next to Swiss. He is alert after Mounty’s reaction, one of his hands close to his gun.

“Get me some whiskey, girl,” the stranger grumbles, spitting the last word out like it burns his tongue, like an insult. Swiss realizes it is supposed to be one and the knot inside him tightens, this time with something resembling anger. How can someone treat such a gorgeous, brilliant and kind creature without utmost respect?

“Hey, she ain’t your girl,” Swiss hisses as Mounty disappears to get the man’s drink. He won’t sit there and pretend he is okay with what is happening right next to him. “Bark orders at your wife like that. If you even have one, it don’t seem like you’ve got a lot to offer.”

“Why do you care?” the stranger scoffs, “he’s a freak.”

One second Swiss is sitting relaxed, sipping on his beer, and then in the next he’s up with his back straight, looming over the other man and staring down at him with fire in his eyes.

“I suggest you either apologize to her when she gets back,” he growls, reaching behind himself, to his revolver, “or get out now so neither of us have to see your ugly face any more. Or else…”

“Or else what!? Ya one of them, too, hm?” the man—clearly an idiot—snarls, craning his neck to look up at Swiss, pretending to be brave. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had no balls on you.”

“Oh, I’ve got enough balls, asshole,” Swiss laughs and that seems to hit. He pulls his revolver out from behind his belt, twists it on his finger and watches the other man hesitate about his next words. “You wanna lose yours?”

The man scoffs as if there wasn’t fear in his eyes. He’s a coward and he storms out accordingly, because it’s unlikely he knows better than to actually challenge Swiss. He doubts he knows who he was.

Just as the man disappears outside, Mounty returns with a glass of whiskey intended for him. There’s no smile on her face and her rather neutral expression turns to confusion as she sees only Swiss by the bar. “Where did he go?”

“Oh, he realized he left something at home.” Swiss shrugs, returning to his stool.

“And what would that be?”

“Respect for women,” he says with a smirk and Mounty returns it, knowing and thankful. She sits again and looks at the glass in her hand before pressing it against her lips and cringing as she tips it back to drink. “Not a fan?”

“Not at all,” she coughs and Swiss chuckles. She is adorable. “All I drink is tea.”

“Tea is good,” he says and looks into his mug—there was still some beer left. He lifts it again and silence falls for a moment.

“You really are nice to talk to,” Mounty speaks after a while. “I get called a freak and other names all the time, usually the moment I come into someone’s view. It’s nice to be treated normally, have my feelings acknowledged…and be protected. You know?”

“I can only imagine.” Swiss smiles at her fondly. It must be hard living like that. Trying to live right by yourself and offending others by simply existing, just because they are too thick-skulled. If he could, he'd sit on that creaky chair every damn day and chase off every single man who'd as much as look at Mounty wrong.

It’s quiet again, Swiss finishing up his beer and Mounty drinking her whiskey—frowning at every single sip. They have just met, but the silence is comfortable. It feels like not only did they know each other for ages, but that they have a…special connection, of a kind.

Swiss snorts at his own thoughts. He’s stupid for them, for thinking this is anything more than…than what, exactly?

“A’ight, sweetheart,” he sighs after a moment, breaking the dead silence. “I should get going, find somewhere to sleep.”

“We’ve got beds,” Mounty perks up, immediately shying away as she realizes she might’ve been a bit too enthusiastic, “if you want…”

“I’d love a bed, but I don’t have much money,” the man shrugs. He’d rip anyone off without any remorse, but not her. He’s never gotten a soft spot for someone as fast as he did for her. “And I’d rather get a place for my horse than myself.”

“And if it’d all be on the house?”

“What, like me so much already you don’t want me to leave?” Swiss laughs, winking.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mounty scoffs, but her own wink says something else. “You’re clearly exhausted, who would I be if I let you go back on the road without a proper rest?”

“Will you at least accept my help in here and in the stables as a payment?”

“I can consider it,” she mumbles, smiling softly as she stares at Swiss through her lashes.

“Alright, then. I’ll stay, sweetheart.”

[losaeuls]

BORN GREY

(tw for one bulimia mention)

𖤐 chapter 1. the unsettling birth of a star

son taena was born on december 30th, 1998 in seoul, south korea. she was the baby of the family, having an older brother, hyunjae. she was born two months early. her heart would consistently stop for close to a minute due to being underdeveloped. her parents would spend day and night on edge; terrified for their baby girl instead of excited for her new life.

taena had to stay in the hospital for three months and kept on a heart monitor. not one day went by that at least one of her parents didn’t come to see her until the day she got to come home.

you’d think the nightmare’d be over after leaving the hospital. turns out, having parents who yell at each other every ten minutes and constantly throwing up the milk you drink doesn’t do well for a baby. on two different occasions were child protective services called because neighbors couldn’t get a damn wink of sleep with all the yelling and crying going on in that damn house. another time was when a doctor thought taena wasn’t being fed.

taena was being fed almost every hour, she was just bulimic before she could even speak.

𖤐 chapter 2. finding her passion

music had always been significant in taena’s life. her brother never misses a chance to tell her about a time when taena was two years old and the hyunjae and his friends were playing around, dancing to id; peace b by boa. every time they played the music, taena would burst into tears. when the music stopped, so did she. back then, hyunjae called taena his “biggest problem”.

by the time taena turned five, the same songs she cried to were the songs she began to dance to. she’d copy the idols she saw on tv and try to mimic them as best she could. she wanted to be like them.

her mother ended up putting her in dance classes and took her to auditions for commercials, thinking her daughter would look adorable on their tv screen. taena was confident in front of the camera, and off camera. she was very open about her ideas and what she wanted. she knew exactly what she wanted and nothing was going to stand in her way.

𖤐 chapter 3. INdependency

taena became relatively independent as a young child and soon as a teenager. working in an adult environment since the age of six made her feel like one. when her mother was busy with work, which was very often, and couldn’t take taena to school, or auditions, or even jobs, hyunjae had to step in. being fourteen years older than taena, he was mature enough to be the perfect guardian while their mom was away.

fourteen must be some symbolic number in the family. when taena turned fourteen, she began to distance herself from her family. with her mom, well she was distant enough so that didn’t really change, but with hyunjae, she started to shift away from him.

he would tell you it came out of nowhere, but taena began to push him away, insisting she’d get herself whenever she needed to be. he remembers the first time she suggested this, practically yelling at him to get away from her while they walked to the venue for a modeling shoot. he refused the first time but as she continued to persist, hyunjae gave in.

from then on, everything taena did she did it herself. she walked to school by herself. she took herself to the jobs she booked. she took herself to auditions. she took herself to meet people that nobody knew about. she did it all, alone. because when she was alone, no one could tell her what to do, where to go, who to talk to. she did whatever she wanted.

𖤐 chapter 4. discovering tomie

one of the entertainment companies taena auditioned for was blockberry creative. she had never heard of the company but she passed by the building one day and saw that they were holding auditions.

taena was picky. if she was gonna debut, she was gonna debut under a big company, with a big budget and big hype surrounding her debut. she only had her eyes on agencies like jyp, sm, yg, even cube. she didn’t see a point in auditioning for a company she’d never heard of. something in her that day just told her “why the hell not?” she was already 18, the age range was for becoming a trainee only getting lower.

she didn’t know about LOONA. taena had only found out about the still-in-production girl group after she passed the first two round of auditions. that grabbed her attention; every member getting a pre-debut solo, traveling to various countries, having a big ass budget, and only seven out of thirteen members had been chosen. she figured that she’d have an easy shot if she signed the trainee contract.

“you know who you kinda look like?”

“hm?” taena pauses from stretching on the floor, looking up to the tall brunette in front of her. she smiling and taena raises an eyebrow at her, kind of a random way to start a conversation.

“her.” she pulls out her phone and crouches to taena’s level to show her a picture of a manga… character? “see? you two have the same mole, and you’re both pretty.” she winked at her. this girl just fucking winked at her.

taena thought it was silly this girl was comparing her to some character. but looking closely, she does see the slight resemblance. plus this girl called her pretty, so she’ll take it as a compliment.

“what’s her name?”

“tomie.”

word gets around quick in a small company building and at some point, the name just sticks.

tomie it is then.

[dearest-painter]

I’ll die before I let you get harmed! PT.1

Summary: Y/N has deeply missed their friends oh so much but their all busy with their own lives so they cannot say much. Soon Y/N meets Miles again but he seems terrified and scared which breaks their heart, they make sure that miles is safe from everyone…even if those people are obsessed with them.

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship,Reader is Spider-Noir,Reader is hinted to be in a relationship with Miguel(bc im simping for him) but it’s never really said out loud,Reader talks to themselves,very out of character characters,this is a series,Reader knows about colors now,Reader doesn’t really like the spider society,people might be out of character,tell me if I need to add more

How long has it been since you’ve seen your friends? It was very sad with how long you haven’t seen them but everyone is busy, you know you can go to HQ but it just doesn’t feel the same…it’ll never feel the same. Sighing as you sat down while taking your hat and mask off you played with a rubrics cube that’s you’ve completed about five times now until someone crashed into you. “ACK-!” “IM SO SORRY! PLEASE DONT HURT ME!” You looked down to see miles very scared so you took him and hid him behind a wall with you.

You took off your coat and wrapped it around him. “Miles, kiddo what’s wrong? Why would I hurt you?” Miles calmed down as he held your hands, It was obvious he was trying to make out words but all that came out was a scared whimper so you held him close to your chest. “Shh~ it’s okay, I’m here now” he took a couple of deep breathed before speaking. “Everyone is chasing me around and trying to tell me what to do…they all wanna hurt me…they all wanna make me be someone I’m not” You we’re surprised, you knew the spider society was strict but to try and force a teenager to be someone he isn’t just for what reason?!

You shook your head in disbelief as you held him closer and tighter to you. “It’s okay kiddo, I’m here for you. I’ll make sure no one harms you, I’ll die before I let anyone harm you, I promise you Miles” Miles smiled as he calmed down into your touch. You didn’t have the spider society watch as you never wanted one and each time Miguel tried to make you wear it, it always end up on his desk. You ran a hand through his hair or the best you could while making sure he wasn’t hurt. You knew got to get miles into your universe but it was risky.

Sighing a bit you looked at the teen. “Miles…I want you to be honest…who started the chase?” “Some guy named Miguel” You we’re pissed at Miguel! He’s a full man going afterwards 15-17 year old boy! “that mother fucking bastard!” You mumbled under your breath. “Look kid, I’m on your side. I’ll always be here to protect you, you got it?” “Mhm…thanks Noir” “Please…Call me Y/N, it’s far more catchy” he chuckled a bit nodding his head. “Okay Y/N…hey you solved the rubrics cube I let you have” “Mhm, I’ve solved it five times not including today, I even know which color is which” Miles smiled, he’s happy to see you again..it’s even better since your on his side.

[tosblogging]

TOS Blogging S1E2: The Man Trap

Other people have undoubtedly done this, but I've decided on a whim to watch my way through all of Star Trek: TOS in order through the rest of this year. And then blog about my thoughts, as one does.

Because I'm going in airdate order, and skipping The Cage (I don't want to have to effectively rewatch it when The Menagerie rolls around), we're starting with Season 1, Episode 2: The Man Trap.

Anyway, kicking it off, we've got Spock temporarily in command...

Uhura's on the console!

It's kind of interesting to me that they'd have a ship like the Enterprise doing routine medical checkups on other Starfleet operatives. The theme song goes big into the whole exploratory five-year-mission thing. It's weird to think that they're doing little side quests along the way for Starfleet while they're out there.

This is such a charming introduction to Kirk as a character, IDC. The first thing he does on screen is pick flowers for McCoy and tease him about visiting his 'old girlfriend'. This is a man who loves love and clearly has close friendships rather than just a professional relationship with his crew. And he's a little silly with it. You can see how tactile he is in the next scene, too, when he claps McCoy on the shoulder.

He has no business being this cute

McCoy's nervous hand gestures... get this man a Xanax!!!!!

I was going to say something about the weird changing appearances thing the lady in this episode has going on, but got immediately distracted by the fact that bringing up your trip to a pleasure planet in front of your commanding officers is kind of crazy

I love the way Kirk smiles when they start getting into the argument with Crater, like he knows McCoy is going to go off about it. He's so unwilling to play games when it comes to people's health.

Kirk is unwilling to let that 'Plum' nickname go! Their dynamic to me feels like old friends except Kirk won't stop flirting with him on the job. Also he's literally always making doe eyes at McCoy with the dopiest smile through the entire first ten minutes of this

McCoy trusting his intuition and experience over the technology of the scanner

First random crew member death and he's not even in a red shirt! I thought that was The Thing!

Everyone in this series is so sweaty

Uhura is so perfect, I adore her so much.

For a (technical) first episode, I feel as though this actually does a decent job telling us what we need to know about Spock - how he differs from the human crew members and his friendship with Kirk, and his logical viewpoint rather than emotional one.

You can really tell how much the death of a crewman affects Kirk here.

Something I've noticed about the conversations in this is how natural they feel. People interrupt and talk over each other frequently

Love the conversation between Kirk and McCoy and the little spat they have. When they talk again a couple scenes later McCoy calls him 'Sir' until Kirk asks if he's in the mood for an apology, then they seem to go back to normal.

The behavior of married men. To me.

I'm sorry Spock bb I forgot you were in the room I was so hyperfocused on Bones

Worth noting that this is the point in which my rooommate kept saying "this is just like Among Us" every time she walked through the living room as this was on

The awkwardly close camera angle as we followed Kirk into the turbolift? I feel like they almost hit Shatner in the face

I feel like those things are too small to properly film in, but what do I know.

JANICE RAND!!! Her hair is insane, no way she's getting up to do that every morning. I also love how casual and friendly she is towards the crew. Less keen on half of the men actively leering at her, though :/

Honestly I don't even like celery but I kind of want one of those celery sticks with the red stuff sticking out of it? It looks fire. Also, the infamous cubes

LOVING the vibes of the botany room. Also Sulu is here!! And LMAO the food was for him and she was just casually snacking on it the whole way here? Love that too

THEY NAME THE PLANTS I am in love with the entire Enterprise crew

Green / Nancy(?) struggling to figure out how the doors worked was a nice touch

Uhura's eye makeup is gorgeous! Everyone's is, honestly

I don't want to say anything but Bones in the black shirt... if I speak...

He was, like, writhing around right before this screencap, I just want y'all to know that

It's kind of absolutely wild that when Nancy is blatantly hitting on him he responds with "you're as bad as Jim Kirk". Like I'm sure it was in the context of pestering him about getting enough sleep but that's still like rule #1 of what not to do when a woman is flirting with you, Leonard

Girl... me too

THE CUT AWAY AND THEN WHEN IT PANS BACK SHE'S MCCOY? Oh shit

Female crew members in pants! Also there's so many mix-and-match type outfits in this scene lol you can really tell it was an early episode

I'm sorry but Spock and Kirk look so awkward crawling around in the dirt

Bugs when you lift up a rock or whatever

The "stone" pillars swaying when Shatner leans on it a little too hard lol

When they refer to the buffalo are they referring to the American buffalo? Were they extinct (or near extinct) when this episode was made? If anyone knows the answer I'd love to know

The fact that Spock is seemingly the only one who actively suspected that McCoy was the imposter is a good look at how much insight he has, but also (IMO) how well he knows him. Sulu and Uhura seemed suspicious when he was on the bridge, earlier, but didn't voice anything.

For a monster of the week type of episode it gives us a surprisingly empathetic view on the monster in question. I also think it's very telling that the technical first episode chose such specific traits to highlight when it comes to the main three. Kirk's devotion towards and friendship with crew, and how seriously he takes his sense of duty. Spock's logic and his view on emotions. McCoy's defense of life, his high emotions and sense of empathy. To end the episode with him asking forgiveness for killing what he knew wasn't Nancy but still held an attachment to all the same is... very pointed, I think. Pretty solemn ending, I felt.

All in all lots of good stuff here. The pacing felt pretty decent though it dragged a little bit once the monster was up on the ship, which was a shame because I thought the whole chameleon gimmick was interesting. The stakes just didn't feel as high as they should have, I think? Really solid introduction to every character, like I said, though I think we were actually missing some of the main cast... Chapel (not necessarily main) and Scotty, I believe? Though I think Scotty is in one (or both?) of the pilots, which I didn't watch, and I know Chekov doesn't show up until later than everybody else. So, interested to see what their introductions are later on.

[satoru-psych]

Learning curve - Gojo Satoru x Reader (18+)

| Pairing: Gojo Satoru / Fem!Reader (afab) / F/M / Teacher! Gojo x Student! Reader.

| Tags/content: Slow burn, Teacher x Student, Age Gap, Smut, Rough sex, Oral sex, Cunnilingus, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Eventual sex, Corruption Kink, Vaginal fingering, Drinking, Mild Dub-con. Just. A lot. Of stuff. *Minors Please dni.

| Summary: Gojo takes you on as a student after the other two 3rd years get suspended. little does he know, there's an ulterior motive behind those doe eyes of yours.

*Gojo is 28, Reader is 18.

| CHAPTERS 1-4

| Next Chapter: Coming soon.

| Series Masterlist

| Word count: 15.4K

//Note: Hiiii ^_^ A few people told me I should post this on here, since it was already on my AO3, and since I just updated with the latest chap, I thought might as well post them all together since it’s not that long. I’ll be linking the next chapter once it’s up. This is actually my first ever fic so I hope you guys like, oki byeeeeee!

AO3 link.

———————————————————————————————

CHAPTER 1 (PROLOGUE): LOLLIPOP

Gojo cares for his students, he really does. He knows the cruel, heartless nature of the Jujutsu world can shatter the hearts of even the strongest, and having experienced that first hand, he vowed to never turn a blind eye again.

So he pays attention, well, as much as he can with his busy schedule, even if it means little things like remembering their favorite sweets and bringing a box, or taking them out to eat after a mission.

It brings him a sense of peace to see their smiles, a feeling in his chest akin to a blue spring.

Despite his adoration for his students, he was never the kind to favor one over the other, and since he’s started teaching he treats all his students equally. Though as much as he tried to deny it, he may or may not have a very tiny insignificant soft spot for your saccharine smiles and honey dipped voice.

Gojo was also a very busy man, missions and lessons with the 1st years taking up a majority of his time already, so he’s not entirely sure why he’s considering adding you to his list of students too. He wasn’t a teacher during your first year, but he basically treated you like one of his students anyways, albeit not as close because he wasn’t around you as much. so what harm would it be to start teaching you too right?

He stared at the email on his computer screen from Yaga, announcing that the other two 3rd years have officially been suspended and that you needed a teacher for the time-being while he sorts things out with the higher ups in regards to the suspension.

“Well, guess I can help out a little” he muttered to himself, throwing 5 cubes of sugar in his tea as he wrote back to Yaga, saying he can take you as a student effective immediately.

He sipped on it while he waited for a reply, getting one a few minutes later that reads,

“Great, meet me in my office in 30 minutes so we can discuss scheduling and paperwork.

~ Yaga”

-----------------------------

“Thank you for agreeing Satoru, I know this was really short notice but Atsuya said his hands were full and Nanami has no interest in teaching”

He motioned for Gojo to sit on the sofa in his office, paperwork splayed across the small coffee table.

“But are you sure you have the time? If not I can work something else out, maybe a transfer to Kyoto-“

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be alright, what’s more one student? Her underclassmen adore her, so I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic” Gojo interrupted, twirling his pen in his hand as he stared down at the class transfer forms. “So where do I sign?

Yaga sighed, contemplating the boards decision to even make this man a teacher in the first place, while showing him where to sign and cringing at his signature. “Are you 5 years old?”

“I’ll have you know my signature is very-“

A knock on the door cuts Gojo off, he scoffs and sinks back on the couch, signing a few more papers with a childish pout as Yaga gets up to answer the door.

“Oh, Hi Yaga-san, did you find someone to teach me yet?” Your sweet voice makes Gojo’s ears perk up slightly

“Yes, come in. Gojo-san is just finishing up the paperwork but I need you to sign a few things too”

You walk in and shoot Gojo a doe eyed smile, giving a curt wave that he returns with an unusual smile of his own. The lollipop you’ve been nursing in your mouth doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and you swear you could feel his gaze for a split second under that blindfold.

“I need you to sign these papers that Gojo-san has” Yaga gestures to the coffee table, so you walk over and take a seat, a little close to Gojo but not close enough for it to be anything noticeable. But he’s more perceptive than he lets on. Still, he decides to ignore it. All you did was sit down after all.

You pick up the pen and lean forward to start signing, your hair gently falling over your face, and Gojo shoots a quick glance at you, taking in your glossed lips and the lollipop you’ve been swirling around in your mouth.

He always thought you were pretty, nothing more. So it wasn’t like he didn’t expect you to look pretty right now either.

But what he really didn’t expect is the feeling of a slight strain on uniform trousers when he saw you swirling your lollipop around.

What the fuck?

A sheer moment of panic washed over him when he felt his length throb, so in a daze he frantically grabbed some papers, putting them on his lap to hide the tent that was forming , whilst pretending like he gave two shits about whatever was written in them.

It’s only until he hears your voice again that he is snapped out of his frenzied train of thought,

“Thank you so much for taking me on, Gojo-sensei, I really appreciate it”

you stood in front of the table, giving him a shy smile and batting your eyelashes.

He straightens up, still covering his crotch with the papers and clearing his throat in an effort to compose himself, “don’t mention it, I’ll see you tomorrow then”

“Sounds great, Gojo-sensei” you waved goodbye to him and Yaga.

the way his name rolled off your tongue left a sugary sweet taste in his mouth, and for a second he wonders if it was your effortless charm or the 5 sugar cubes he downed in his tea just a little while ago.

He felt his trousers tighten again, and began to internally panic before Yaga snapped him out of it, “Ijichi-san will work out the schedules for both of you and send it out by tonight. Do let me know if something comes up and you can’t follow through”

Gojo gulps, thankful for the interruption because it’s impossible to stay even a little bit hard when Yaga speaks. But wait, why was he even hard in the first place? Surely it wasn’t cus of…

“Satoru..?” Yaga raised an eyebrow,

“Oh uh, yeah, sure thing” he stands up quickly, handing Yaga the signed papers and heads out quickly.

heading back to office he sits down, eyeing the sugar cubes that sat in a box next to his empty tea cup, and your voice lingers in his head again…

‘shit..when did she get so cute?’

He shakes the thought out of his head, telling himself it was probably just an accident, a funny little coincidence, maybe it’s because he neglected his morning wood when he woke up, ah yes that’s the one. It’s gotta be!

So he decided to call it a day, he was obviously not in his right mind today. he makes a motion of interlocking his fingers and clasping his hands together to warp into his bedroom, sighing in relief upon entering his personal space.

“Maybe I just need a nap” he takes off his jacket and slides off his blindfold, running his fingers through his snowy hair, before settling into his ridiculously expensive bed.

“Yeah…I definitely need a nap..” he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the lingering taste of sugar on his tongue.

————————————————

CHAPTER 2: RISING STEAM

The walk to your dorm room back from Yaga's office had you questioning some things. You could’ve sworn Gojo-sensei was acting a bit…. Off, you just couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

Plopping down on your bed, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. The weather was getting warmer, but there was still a breeze in the air, so you decided to submit a request for a new summer uniform.

The school allowed everyone to rotate their uniforms and customize them as the seasons changed, and although you prefer practicality over fashion during combat, it wouldn't hurt to try and look a little cuter this summer. Your motive behind this was totally not the fact that you were Gojo's new student. you would never try to seduce your teacher or anything like that. duh.

You typed in your measurements, moving on to the design, your usual choice of a hooded-romper uniform came to mind, maybe you'd modify it to be sleeveless? maybe you'd make it a two piece suit? A different coloured collar?

As you began to visualize your options, an email notification came in, it was your updated schedule for the next 3 weeks from Ijichi, with Gojo CC'd into the email, it contained an average class and mission spread, nothing too exciting, but what caught your eye was that two of your upcoming missions were going to be supervised by Gojo. you weren't sure why but you sure as hell weren't going to protest..Impulsively filling out the rest of the tailoring form with a not-so-subtle smirk plastered on your face, you made sure to choose pickup instead of delivery so you could collect it after your mission tomorrow, and what you were going to pay towards the delivery fee can now go towards a new lipgloss…perfect.

You started on your bedtime routine and your mind wandered. This new schedule was giving you a prime opportunity to get to know Gojo-sensei better! Especially since he’ll be accompanying you on a couple of your missions. That's a nice thing to do right? find some common ground and have deep meaningful conversations with each other. Yes, that's exactly your goal here, nothing else.

Maybe you could pester your underclassmen about it when they're back from their mission, but for the time being you've put on your investigation cap and opened up a social media app while brushing your teeth.

He was ridiculously easy to find, given that all you had to do was search up his name and the user @Gojothestrongest1 came up, making you roll your eyes. there was however the obstacle of him having a private account which you definitely did not foresee.. he seemed like the kind of guy that would show off and flaunt any chance he got so this was definitely strange, and you wouldn’t be caught dead requesting to follow him online the same day he got appointed as your new teacher, that’s too weird right?

Maybe you need to sleep on it, you have an early start to your day and an evening mission tomorrow, plus you’ll be picking up your new uniform after, so you want to be well rested.

You spat out the toothpaste, observed the saliva-mixed white liquid in the sink, mind wandering back to Gojo-sensei for no particular reason, and you giggled.

Though what started as a simple everyday bedtime routine ended up manifesting into what you could only describe as some sort of self care ritual, cleanse, tone, moisturize, scrub your lips, shower and shave every inch of your body, apply body oil, this is totally your everyday routine.. Finally you slid into some comfy pajamas and headed back to bed to get some shut eye.

—-----------------------------

Birds chirping can be heard faintly through the sound of your sliding glass windows, morning dew settles on the glass and you wake up feeling like today is gonna be a good day. Though the morning is uneventful, you go about your school day like normal, classes in the morning and sparring in the afternoon, you did some hand to hand with Yuji which left you with a bruised left shoulder and hip hone, which he apologized very profusely for afterwards, even promising to buy you tickets for his wormo-man movie , but you feel okay enough to go on your mission this evening, it’s reported to be a grade 2 curse in the family section of a run-down fast food joint that likes to hide in the playground. Cute.

It’s in a dodgy part of town but your missions were always in…questionable places anyways. It’s unlikely that a curse would manifest at a nice botanical garden or an artsy modern museum, so roughing it out was something you grew accustomed to.

Car tires screech against the curb, window rolling down to show Ijichi, you wave at him and he he greets you back “good evening, the mission site isn’t too far away so let’s head there now” he smiles and unlocks the car for you to get in, so you sling your bag across your shoulder and climb inside.

“I’m sorry, I have a meeting with the principal later, I won’t be able to collect you after your mission is complete so I’ll send Nitta-san.” he semi-bows strangely while driving. Who bows while driving?

Perfect.

“Oh that’s okay, Ijichi-san, you don’t have to bother Nitta-san, I’ll figure it out by myself” you shoot him a smile through the rearview mirror.

“But i’m not allowed to leave the students alo-”

“I said don’t worry, Ijichi-san. I’ll be fine” you interrupt.

He sighs but ultimately agrees, muttering something under his breath about how he’s not paid enough for this. The rest of the car ride is silent apart from the radio news channel that Ijichi seems to be invested in.

Once he drops you off you head towards the dingy looking building, arms stretched upwards in a tired sigh to stretch your sore muscles, “let’s get this over with”

An eerie bell jingle fills the atmosphere when you swing the doors open, the place is surprisingly not dirty, just very run down. The painted children’s characters on the walls are chipped away leaving them with deformed faces, booth cushions are sunken in and appear lumpy, and the counter is littered with fallen stacks of paper menus and coupons. The curse was doing a solid job of hiding its presence so far, but you could see the faint aura surrounding its footprints that lead into the playground, so you follow them carefully, keeping your guard up as you pass through the door frame.

From the back the curse looks like a child, about 6-9 years old, cowering inside the ball pit with its freakishly humanoid hands wrapped around its knees. It had long matted hair that looked neglected, but when it turned around revealing its face to you, you audibly gagged.

Sunken eyes that resembled two voids on its face were housing what looked to be tens of bugs, it lacked a nose but had a vertical mouth with tight sutures holding the pale rotted flesh together that began to rip and ooze this black-ish blood as it gave a feeble attempt at speaking,

“M….m….ma..ma…………..mama………p-p…..pa….papa….?” it repeated, like a broken record. Great, an abandoned child curse with bug infested eyes, no way in hell were you gonna let that thing get within five feet of you. Jumping a few steps back, you pulled a vial out of your utility belt containing an amaranthine purple liquid, and discreetly unscrewed the top, using your technique to manipulate a thread like stream of it towards the curse, allowing it to trickle into the ballpit, slowly forming a puddle.. Drip, drop, drip, drop, drip, drop..

There was no hostility in the air, although you had a feeling in your gut telling you that any wrong move or sound could warrant an attack, so you didn’t want to risk it.

Still taking calculated steps back while trying to maintain a steady stream, you still when you hear a squeak as the back of your heel comes in contact with a toy basketball, “shit” you mutter under your breath, head shooting up immediately to see the curse standing up at its full height, but it stopped its yapping now. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Sweat trickles down the side of your face, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand with goosebumps on the surface of your skin, and before you have a chance to react the curse lets out a visceral scream, lunging towards you with pure killing intent.

Your feet move on their own, just barely getting you out of line for the hit, but the curse manages to land a momentary blow on your bruised left shoulder, you hiss in pain, clutching your shoulder and sprinting into the ballpit.

The curse is fast but you evade it’s attempt to strike you again, causing it to land in the ballpit with you, it tries to reach you but the balls hinder its movements slightly, allowing you to manipulate the small puddle you trickled into the ballpit earlier, you coated a couple of balls in the liquid, imbuing the liquid surrounding them with your cursed energy and shooting one at the curse.

One lands against its abdomen, making it brutally cough up more of that black-ish blood through its mouth sutures, another scream pierces your eardrums and this time the curse rips through the threads binding its mouth closed, and you utilize this prime opportunity to launch the second ball into that bloody abyss of a mouth, it hits the back of the curses’ throat and you manipulate the liquid once more to trickle down its throat.

The curse attempts to resist, coughing out spurts of the blood-mixed cyanide you just savagely forced down its throat, it comes out of the eyes, forcing the bugs to crawl out of the void and into the curses’ hair in an attempt to seek refuge. Its unsightly, sour bile rises in the back of your throat and you swallow it down as you watch the curse asphyxiate, falling onto the blood splattered balls with its hands around its neck, trying desperately to breathe.

You almost feel bad for it, you can’t stand to look at it die so slowly anymore so you pull out a small cursed knife tool you keep on you, and chuck it through its frontal lobe. Then the silence hits, the curse disintegrates into mere particles and you make a move to pick the knife up. At the corner of your eye you spot a small window, you tuck the knife back into your utility belt and walk in its direction.

Outside the window there’s a peculiar looking building, you squint your eyes to read the sign, and you sigh, it’s a school for orphaned children..Your heart pangs in your chest for a split second as you remember yourself as an orphaned child…No, this is no time for emotions…

“Fuck them kids..” the words escape your faded glossed lips in a quiet mumble, with no real bite behind them, as you pad out of the restaurant into the somber street. You’re tired, your shoulder feels even more sore now, so you postponed picking up your new uniform..fishing your phone out of your pocket you dial Gojo-sensei’s number.

“Hello?” He picks up on the second ring, he must have been on his phone.

“Hello, Gojo-sensei? Can you come pick me up? I just finished a mission and Ijichi is in a meeting” Your voice comes out shaky, unintentionally.

“Where are you? Send me the location, are you hurt?” His tone is soft, it makes you feel tingly inside..

“I’m fine, sensei.. My shoulder is just a bit bruised up..” you gulp, why do you feel nervous right now?

“Stay where you are, i’ll be there soon” he hangs up, making a beeline to his car, still in his casual clothes. He had been lounging at home when you called, his next mission wasn’t til tomorrow afternoon so he had some rare time off for himself, but he couldn’t help but feel worried for you now, he’ll have to scold Ijichi later for leaving you all alone..after all, he does care very deeply for his students.

The sound of his motor revving fills the parking lot of his snobby rich people apartment complex, and he goes out into the night, location displayed on the screen of his luxurious car that he seldom drives.

It only takes around 10 minutes for him to reach your street, it was a quiet night and few cars littered the roads. You perk up as soon as you see him park in front of you, you hear a small click signaling that he unlocked the door, and you climb into the passenger seat, it’s comfy and spacious, fit for a princess..

“Hey, how are you feeling? Was the mission okay?” he turns towards you and you make brief eye contact over his circular glasses.

Your eyes rake over his frame and his exposed arms in a short-sleeved white tee as they flex inadvertently while he makes a U-turn. He notices you zoning out but he doesn't pay it any mind.

“Oh, uh, I’m alright, Sensei..the mission was fine, nothing I can’t handle” your words come with a grin, which he returns with a genuine one himself,

“I never doubted you, well done” the sincerity in his words mixed with his slightly hushed voice burns a pit in your lower abdomen and you inhale deeply to calm yourself down. You thank him and stare out the window, trying to distract yourself, you’re too tired to converse too deeply, despite how badly you want to.

The sight of neon signs and street lights fills your heavy lidded eyes, and you’re on the verge of sleeping when the car comes to a halt at a red light, you scan your surroundings once more and your eyes widen when you spot a sign for a private onsen. Perfect.

“Gojo-sensei!” you turn to him, excited.

“Yeah?” he smiles at you.

“Can you take me to that onsen? I feel really beat up, I could use a dip in a hot spring..” you sigh, pressing your hand to your bruised shoulder.

He hums and makes a turn onto the street, parking his car in front of the building and taking out some crisp looking notes from his wallet to hand to you,

“For the entry fee, I can pick you up when you’re done” he smiles, you take the money and pocket it, that won’t do.

“Huh? What do you mean? You’re not coming in with me?” you feign innocent confusion, and you can almost hear the gears turn in his head when he asks “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you went with Megumi and Yuji a few weeks ago, right? So why don’t you wanna go with me?” your indifference while asking him a question like that has him sweating bullets in 20 degree weather.

“Isn’t that kind of…” he gulps “..weird?” and you frown,

“Why would it be weird? It’s the same as being in a public onsen. Don’t you wanna relax too, sensei?” you shrug oh-so-casually, and he sits there for a second, pondering it seems..

‘She’s right…why am I overthinking this?’ He straightens up and shoots you a coy smile, “sure, I guess I do.. Let’s go then”,

Suppressing your smirk was no easy task, especially after pulling that off, you expected him to downright refuse, so now you have to go along with a whim you weren’t even sure was gonna play out.. Deep breaths, in, out, in, out… The car door opening startles you, when did he get there? But you clear your throat and step out, walking alongside him to the entrance of the building. There are a few vending machines that stock green tea and water outside, and the reception area is small and dimly lit.

After the fees are paid you are both shown to your private onsen, it’s overlooking a rock garden with bamboo fencing sectioning it off from the other springs, next to the door was a small shower booth, along with a rack full of unscented body wash and thin white towels. You make the first move, shedding your bag and shoes and leaving them by the door,

“Can I shower first? I’m dying to get in that water” you pout dramatically and he chuckles, but it comes out tense,

“Sure, go ahead, I’ll turn around so you can change..” and he does so immediately, facing the wall which in turn also hides his slightly blushed cheeks. “ Stop it, she’s your student. This isn’t a big deal..” he internally scolds himself, he feels conflicted, part of him wants to back out and leave, but technically, there’s nothing inherently wrong about being in an onsen with your student, he’s done it before like you said…It’s not like he got a raging boner when he saw you with a lollipop yesterday…’wait, no, that was because I ignored my morning wood, yes! I’m not a pervert!’ but his train of thoughts is derailed when he hears you coming out of the shower, your damp footsteps echoing on the floor, then he hears your dulcet voice calling out to him,

“Your turn, Gojo-sensei!” you watch as his tall figure turns around, expression unreadable behind his pitch-black glasses but you can sense his gaze on your towel clad body. He clears his throat and you take that as a hint to turn away, giving him the same privacy he gave you, despite the overwhelming urge to see him undress..you dip your foot into the steamy water, then your leg, entering with a sigh as the warmth engulfs your body, ridding you of a majority of today’s fatigue. Smooth rocks press against your skin as you lean back, getting comfortable, but you wince when your left shoulder brushes against the rock wall, so you tilt your head the opposite way and begin to massage the soreness away.

Gojo exits the shower booth with a towel wrapped around his waist, skin damp from the water and steam and the first thing he sees is the side of your pretty figure, wincing in pain as you massage your bruised shoulder, your towel was thin, clinging to you like a second skin, and his eyes subconsciously trace over the curve of your brea-

He clears his throat, determined not to let any sort of twisted thoughts plague his mind right now. The sound makes you turn to his direction, and your jaw nearly drops. Gojo-sensei was standing a few feet away from you, abs and chest muscles glistening, skin dewy with steam and staring at you through his glasses whilst you’re both clad in thin white towels.. fuck, you have to play your cards right. So you feign innocence once more, smiling softly at him and beckoning for him to come in, spewing some bullshit about how great the water feels, when the only thing on your mind at this moment is how great he would feel.

He settles into the water and you go back to massaging your shoulder, and it's as if a lightbulb went off in your head at that very second, so you pretend to struggle, groaning in frustration because you just can’t massage yourself right… and he feels bad, you’re in pain and he’s just sitting there watching, what kind of sensei would he be if he just let you stay in your sorry state when you should be relaxing? So he turns off his brain for a moment and calls out to you,

“Do you..need a hand?” he asks softly, not wanting it to sound wrong, and you bite your cheek to suppress your smile again.

“Yeah, please, sensei..” you reply with a groan, turning so that your back faces him now, “it’s really sore..I can’t bear it..” you dramatize your words. And before you know it his large hands are on your skin, he’s close enough that you can hear his breath and it makes goosebumps rise under his fingertips but he doesn’t comment on it, instead focusing on relieving his poor little student of all her unbearable pain…

His hands are practiced, experienced, he presses into your sore spots with the right amount of pressure, making you whimper and breathe shakily, which he tries his absolute hardest to ignore, to tune out, you don’t sound cute to him right now, you’re just in pain…that’s right…he’s not on the verge of losing his composure if you keep whimpering so close to him while his hands press into your ridiculously soft skin…”Focus, Satoru..” his internal voice screams at him.

But your mmh’s and ahh’s are deliberate, and they’re working. However it’s getting increasingly difficult to deal with the situation between your legs. Your thighs have been pressed together for what feels like hours now, yearning for some sort of friction, some sort of relief , and all logic flies out the window when you decide to trace your fingers up your thigh, inching your towel up slowly and discreetly, and it’s when you slide a finger against your slit that you gasp, nearly squealing at how sticky and good it felt, this startles Gojo, prompting him to ask, “are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine, sensei…just, don’t stop…the soreness is going away” you lie through frenzied breaths, all he did was gulp and continue his ministrations. He was probably under the impression that he was helping you out, which technically he was, just not in the way that he thinks right now..poor sensei..

Your middle finger teases your folds under the towel, dipping into your slit to gather the strings of wetness and coming back up to brush lightly against your neglected clit, the feeling of his skilled hands on your body, and your fingers on your most sensitive parts is erotic, you feel light-headed at the gentle stimulation you’re giving yourself, meanwhile Gojo seems like he has his head in the clouds, hands moving on their own as he tries to distract himself enough so that he doesn’t accidentally get aroused again. He hasn’t even noticed or commented on your obscene act, you were either really good at hiding it, or he was just too focused on not focusing on you that it just went unnoticed.

Either way, you’re winning, your pointer finger joins your middle in tracing feather-light circles around your clit, pinching it lightly between the tips which has you biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste lingers on your tongue as your fingers pick up the pace slightly, alternating between figure eight’s and circles, going down to tease at your entrance, you’re floating, before you knew it the familiar knot twists in your stomach and suppressing your moans is starting to hurt. Your fingers lose their rhythm, no longer tracing practiced shapes, as you desperately fight to push yourself to that edge, in the most quiet way possible.

Euphoria washes over you in waves, starting from your core and spreading down into your toes, you’re breathing so heavily you could fill up an air mattress, rubbing lightly at your now swollen nub as you ride out, possibly, the most silent and scandalous orgasm you’ve ever had.

“Are you..” he coughs “are you okay? You’re uh…breathing really heavy” his voice is hoarse, he sounds…Troubled.

“Y-yeah…thank you, Gojo-sensei…that was a great..massage..” you don’t mean to pause before saying massage, but he picks up on it, his hands leave your skin and you suddenly feel cold, despite the steam surrounding your body,

“We should probably um, leave…now.” he sounds dazy, something’s definitely up with him but he’s not saying, you didn’t feel his eyes on you while you were… helping yourself out ..so it can’t be that.

He stands up, clutching his towel around his waist and steps out of the water, frantically grabbing his clothes, muttering something about needing the restroom and to meet him at the car, and he’s gone like the wind.. You shrug, feeling satisfied with what just happened so you step out of the water too, changing back into your uniform and loitering outside while you wait for Gojo-sensei, scrolling through some random social media feed..

—---------------------------------

Gojo all but breaks the restroom door down, clawing his way into a stall with the most painful boner he’s had since his late teens, he slams a fist into the wall and it cracks under his knuckles, “what the fuck just happened? Was she fucking touching herself?” The truth is, he noticed it right away, from the moment you pressed your pretty round thighs together a little too hard, he has the fucking six eyes, of course he noticed. But he ignored it, like a good sensei would, maybe he was just projecting his perverse inner thoughts onto you, his sweet innocent student, as delicate as a flower…you’d never do something that corrupt..But you did…you did? You touched yourself that way while he was massaging your shoulder and yet he still ignored it…why? He doesn’t know.

Maybe part of him wants to give you the benefit of the doubt here, maybe you were just…itchy? Yeah, that’s reasonable. Way more reasonable than his sweet doe eyed student cumming while he massaged her. There's no way. There's no way. You would never…you were too innocent..too sweet..he’s just a pervert. Fuck, he’s a pervert.

Even if you truly didn’t do that, the mere thought of it had him rock hard in the palm of his hand, fisting his leaky red tip with his forehead pressed against the cold tile of the wall, in a measly attempt to ground himself. “Stop it, Satoru…Fuck..” his internal voice blaring at him like an alarm, red and loud, telling him his thoughts are reducing him into a low-life pervy scum that shouldn’t be allowed within twenty feet of a woman.

He shouldn’t think this way, he shouldn’t be this way, he shouldn’t act this way, he’s the strongest fucking sorcerer, why is he in a single restroom stall fantasizing about his students’ warm, wet pussy right now? She didn’t even do anything, he’s the pervert here. It’s his fault for thinking of her that way. He should feel horrible, he should feel ashamed.

He’s so fucked..

He tucks his still-hard cock into his boxers, throwing the rest of his clothes on and taking deep breaths as he walks to where the car was parked. If there’s one thing Gojo Satoru knows how to do, it’s mask how he’s feeling, so he plasters on his most nonchalant smile, opening the car door for you and swallowing the saliva he didn’t know had built up in his throat. The drive back was silent, there was an unspoken tension so thick you could barely hear the faint music of his playlist over it, before you know it you’re in front of the dorm building in Jujutsu High.

You turn to Gojo-sensei and he smiles at you, bidding you goodnight and you lean in and give him a slight side hug, which makes his sleepy eyes shoot open, you whisper in his ear, “Goodnight, Gojo-sensei…see you tomorrow..”, and then you’re gone, walking off in the distance to your room, and he buries his face in palms, “you’re making this a problem, she was just saying goodnight…what’s gotten into you, Satoru?” he shakes his head at his thoughts, driving back home in total silence, not in the mood for music.

You go about your routine as normal, cheeks blushed and body on fire, you’re replying to a text from Maki when a notification rolls in..

“@Gojothestrongest1 has requested to follow you”

——————————————————

CHAPTER 3: MASQUERADE

‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god? Gojo-sensei requested to follow me? Right after what just happened at the onsen?’ your thoughts blare at you like a broken car horn, why is he doing it NOW of all times?

Could it be that he felt something for you? He did offer to massage you after all..but the car ride said otherwise.. He felt tense.

This is completely normal right? The rest of the students follow him so this isn’t a big deal. But if you accept it now you’ll seem desperate, which of course you are, but you can’t make it that obvious. You have to keep him on his toes, he followed you, so maybe you should wait a day or two.

Your phone bounces on the edge of the bed where you throw it, staring up at the ceiling with a heat in your cheeks that matches the one burning in your core, this means you have a chance right?

He could have refused your onsen offer, maybe he didn’t give it much thought, but he still could have taken you to any other one, there were a few in the area that were separated by gender, and he knows that. So surely he wants you a little bit right?

The thought of him potentially wanting you the same way you want him has you kicking your feet up, almost like you have a little school girl crush. Then it hits you. You are a school girl. You do have a crush. A big one at that. Maybe you’re too far in your own delusions right now, fantasizing about a man 10 years older than you, but something in your gut tells you to grab your running shoes and chase those delusions at full speed.

It’s the weekend tomorrow so you’ll have plenty of time to delude yourself into thinking he’s into you, so you hug your pillow and drift away for the night.

—-----------------------------

“Hey- ouch! That hurts!” you exclaim, bringing your hand down to massage your poor inner thigh that is currently being stretched way past it’s limit

“Your combat has been shit lately, so shut up and stretch” Maki rolls her eyes pushing further down on your shoulders so you sink deeper into the splits “It’s not even that bad. Baby”

“Urgh, how nice of you to call your senpai that while t-torturing her,” you groan in response, “But I think you’re getting me mixed up with your overseas boyfr- OUCH!” She cuts you off with a smack on the head.

“First of all, I wasn’t calling you a pet name, I was calling you a baby. It was an insult, and second, he’s not my boyfriend” she scoffs, plopping down on her own yoga mat next to yours, giving a slight chuckle when she sees your pained expression as you maneuver your way out of the hellish stretch to a more normal sitting position.

“Aw, long distance not working out?” you tease, watching her cheeks grow red which she tries to mask with a hand on her face and furrowed eyebrows, ‘cute’ You think to yourself, as you take a sip from your water bottle, nearly choking when she points her middle finger at you. “That’s no way to treat your elders, you know” you smirk.

“Maybe if said elder wasn’t a bitch, I would respect her more” she jabs, stifling a laugh when you exaggerate your gasp, putting a show of putting your hand on your heart to show how offended you are.

“Damn, kids these days” you shake your head, laying back down on the silicone on your mat and staring up at the crows perched on top of the tree you’re using for shade.

“Oh shut up” she laughs, grabbing her phone and scrolling through her socials, she visibly cringes all of a sudden and sighs, “That blindfolded idiot doesn’t know how to post just one picture does he?”, which catches your attention.

“What was that?” you turn your head to the side to look at her, to which she answers

“Just Satoru making it everyone’s problem that he can’t decide on a suit. I swear whoever put this old man on social media is gonna have to pa- hey!” She’s cut off by you lunging for her phone, grabbing hold of the device to feast your eyes on the sight that is Gojo Satoru’s instagram story of him at an expensive looking suit shop.

You click through what feels like over fifty mirror selfies of him with various suits on, you can’t see his face but you can see the side of his sharp jawline and his mess of white hair, ‘he must not be wearing his blindfold because it looks softer than usual, fuck. He looks good.’

“Um, hello? What was that about?” Maki questions, taken aback at your sudden brashness.

“Do you know where he’s going?” You ignore her and question back eagerly, looking up at her with a devious sparkle in your eyes that she’s never seen before.

“Uhh, some masquerade ball at this hotel in Roppongi, apparently Nanami had bought himself a ticket a while back but he can’t go anymore so he gave it to Satoru. He’s been blabbing all week about he’s gonna come back as a ‘Refined gentleman’ and how he’ll ‘Give Nanami a run for his money’ from it” She explains, making finger quotes while trying not to visibly cringe, “Why do you wanna know anyways?” She raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, no reason” You toss her phone back to her, averting her suspicious gaze as you stand back up and begin to roll your yoga mat up.

“You’re going already? It’s barely noon” Her eyebrow raises again, trying to spot an ounce of bullshit in your words, you simply shrug and pick your things up, smiling down at her to say “I have a date, gotta go get ready, though you wouldn’t know about that 'cus your love life is like your cursed energy” you poke your tongue out at her and she laughs in disbelief.

“You really are a bitch!” She shouts at you while you walk back to the dorms.

“Love you toooooo!” You shout back, grateful you were able to evade her suspicions, you think.

—-----------------------------

You practically run out the door the second you change out of your sweaty active wear, not bothering to hop in the shower, you’ll do it later anyways. Jujutsu high was a fair distance away from the city center so that gives you plenty of time to phone up some hotels in Roppongi to ask about this alleged masquerade ball.

You have a few stops left on the bus before you get to the shopping district, It was one you frequented so you know the shops well, you dial the next hotel on the list while staring out the window, sighing as a knot twist in your stomach, 'this is probably futile, I’ve called so many already..'

Mentally preparing yourself for yet another fail, when you ask about the ball, but to your surprise the person on the other end of the phone answers,

“Yes we are hosting an anonymous masquerade ball tonight from 7, Tickets can be purchased for the drinks bar but the ball itself is free to attend!”

'Finally! Wait..did he say'..” Anonymous?” you question, to which the worker explains that one of the rules was to refrain from sharing any personal information about oneself, including names. Interesting, must explain the whole mask thing.

The bus comes to a stop and you hop off, striding down the busy streets to this dress shop you heard Nobara rave about a few weeks ago, it was fancy, way more than you could afford right now, but you’re already making unwise decisions, so will it really hurt to add financial ones to the list?

Probably, but all you can really think of now is how to dress to attract, you're no stranger to balls, you’ve attended a handful with your parents as a child, but that was before the… Nope. Not today.

Clearing your throat, you step into the shop, eyeing the racks of couture dresses and shoes to match, you feel the materials, occasionally pulling one off the rails and holding it to your body in the mirror to contemplate,

“Can I help you with something, miss?” A saleswoman calls out to you, waving politely from behind you, you turn around to speak,

“Oh, I’m actually going to a ball tonight, a masquerade.. Do you happen to have any masks here?” You explain.

“You’re in the right place! Masks and accessories are on the floor above, would you like me to lead you there?” She smiles, and you nod, eager to see the options as it all finally starts to come together in your head, you’re that much closer..

You follow her with a nervous smile, still holding on to that last dress you pulled off the rail, she takes you up the elevator, leading you to a lavish looking accessory room. You’re browsing the seemingly endless options of masks and jewellery when she suddenly cuts in,

“Um, I couldn’t help but notice, the dress you picked out is a dark navy..Are you a fan of the color blue?” She questions, you look down at the silk dress draped over your arm. Blue, huh?

“I guess you could say so? I mostly picked this out for the shape and the material, why do you ask?” You smile back, curious to hear what she has to say.

“Well..If you’re set on that option, I would suggest that you pair it with something like this..” She approaches with a black box in her hands, inside it is a Venetian style mask, decked with silver trimmings and crystals, in a piercing shade of blue…a very familiar piercing shade of blue..

You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your mouth in disbelief, this is golden , what are the odds?

“I’ll take it. And the dress. And the matching pumps.” You grin, despite the ridiculous amount of money you’ll have to cough up, you can’t miss out on this.

The saleswoman triumphantly guides you to the cash register after grabbing your size in the dress and heels. You try to seem nonchalant when she rings you up, but you can practically hear the faint screams of your bank account when you swipe your card to pay. No wonder Nobara only shops with Gojo’s Card..

—-----------------------------

“Champagne?” A server approaches with a tray,

“Oh, No thank you” You politely decline, you’ve been here for an hour already and there’s no sign of Gojo-sensei anywhere.. It's starting to get busier by the minute, but you aren’t giving up now, not after spending an ungodly amount of money and time getting ready. A few attendants compliment you, more notably, your mask, you opted for a subtle makeup look, focusing on your eyes to make them prominent under the mask.

Nobody can tell who you are even if they try, the mask covers the top half of your face, and your hair is done up rather than being worn down. You look different. Hopefully different enough to the point where a certain white haired man won’t recognise you.

Speaking of white hair, your heart skips out of your chest when you see a flash of it towering over the countless heads in the crowd. He’s here. Gulping, you decide to follow as he makes his way to the bar, he chats with the bartender for a minute, you can’t hear him over the music but you can finally see him properly.

Slicked back hair, a black and gold phantom mask, and an all black suit and tie. Holy fuck, he looks alluring.

You’re too engrossed in his ridiculously attractive face to notice the flock of women that begin to surround him, all too nervous to make the first move, yet for some reason he pays them no mind, simply opting to lean against the bar and take large sips of his overly fruity cocktail while crowd watching. He finishes his drink relatively fast, motioning for the bartender to make him another, and you decide to approach him.

His eyes land on you the second you infiltrate the busy bar area, breath hitching when he realises you’re about to talk to him. Truth is, he spotted you moments after he walked in, your cursed energy was practically seeping out from how nervous you are. He thought it may be a coincidence until you start following him, and now approaching him, before he has time to collect his thoughts properly, you’re draping yourself over the counter, arms crossing over it as you peer up at him through your blue mask and long eyelashes.

He glances down at you from the side, sipping on his cocktail and masking his nerves with a trademark smirk, “Hm? What have we here? Can I help you, pretty girl?” He tries not to stare down the curve of your breasts where the dress dips, but from where he towers over you it’s inevitable…

“Maybe, I just happened to spot a handsome stranger all by himself so I thought I’d keep him company” You smirk back, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, making him chuckle. ‘Stranger, huh?’ He thinks.

“I’m honoured” He grins, taking yet another large sip of his cocktail, “Any reason you chose me out of all the men here?” his eyebrow rises with the question.

“Why do you ask?” You question back, to which he lightly sighs, ditching the cocktail straw and chugging the rest of the tall glass in one go.

“Hm, I don’t know, I just thought I seemed a little old for you..” He answers, silently praying you’ll give up your flirtatious antics and move on to the next man. But all you do is bat your eyelashes at him with an innocent smile before saying,

“Not that I know how old you are, but..” You stand on you tip toes, leaning over his shoulder to whisper in his ear “What if I like it that way?”

You don’t miss the way his grip on the counter tightens, splintering the wood under his nails, and for a moment you linger, breathing against the shell of his ear, waiting for him to break the silence but he doesn’t.

His mind runs a mile a minute, he shouldn’t have had any to drink, 'fuck, i’m a lightweight'.

The mix of alcohol and conflicting emotions he’s feeling for you since the night before at the onsen is stirring his head up.

Surely you know it’s him, right? But why would you knowingly approach your teacher and say that? No. You would never. If you knew it was him, you would have said so. Maybe he’s reading too deep into this. He was wearing a mask after all.

Before he has the chance to respond, you brush your lips against his earlobe, leaving a faint lipstick stain as you whisper once more, “meet me in the bathrooms outside the main hall”, Disappearing into the crowds with a pounding in your chest, equal to the one in his pants right now.

'So she doesn’t know. She thinks I'm just some stranger. Why does she want me to meet her there? Wait, don’t be stupid, Satoru. You know exactly why. Fuck. Should I do it? What would your reaction be if you found out you just flirted with your teacher? You would be mortified…right…?'

He sighs deeply, staring at the door to the bathrooms, how the fuck did he even get here?

'Should I go in? I mean, I’m already here. Might as well, right? Maybe she just wants to talk..yeah..talk..' He tries to reason with himself.

With shaky hands, he pushes the door open, stepping in to find you sitting on the sink counter, patiently tapping your nails on the ceramic. The side slit in your dress fell to the side, exposing your crossed legs to him. Your head shoots towards the door and you smile, turning your body slightly to face the door,

“You came” You jump off the sink to stand at your full height, waiting patiently for his next move with a glint in your eyes behind the mask.

He’s trying, he’s really trying to hold himself back, but the alcohol stirring his head up, and the way you’re looking at him like you’re famished, and the fact that you apparently don’t know that it’s him.. He’s seconds away from breaking.

'She’ll never know, right? Fuck’

He’d be a horrible person for doing this, but he wants you so badly right now. If it wasn’t for the liquid courage he would have never found himself here in the first place.

Click, clack, your heels echo as you make your way towards him, reaching one arm behind his back to lock the door and the other arm around his neck, pulling him inches away from your face, your heart is racing, you feel like you’re about to faint if he doesn’t kiss you right now.

Staring into his eyes, your lip quirks up into a half smirk to say “So..?” in a challenging tone, and he breathes in sharply through his nose.

'She’ll never know, right?.'

'Fuck it.'

His lips smash against your own in desperation, you move in tandem with him as he brings his hands down to your waist and backs you up to the sink again. The edge pokes at your lower back and you squeal when he hoists you up with no effort to sit you down, never once separating his lips from yours.

Your bodies are on fire, the rush you both have from knowing how wrong it is to be doing this is only serving to amplify the lust and attraction, you moan into his mouth and he groans, pulling back and breathing so heavily that you start to wonder, 'is he okay?'

Though your mind only falters for a split second, as his lips are back on yours in an instant, licking your bottom lip 'til you grant him access, he slips his tongue into your mouth and just when it’s starting to get heated, he pulls away, you see a look of uncertainty flash across his face and he drops his head down to kiss at your jaw instead,

His lips trail down the side of your jaw down to your neck, he bites at your sweet spot, and your mind blanks when he sucks at it lightly and runs his tongue across it, you can’t help the moans that escape your lips. His breath stutters when he hears your pretty voice, hands trailing down the sides of your waist, sliding to your lower back, and grazing the curve of your ass lightly, he brings his lips closer to yours again, brushing against them as you pant against him.

“Please, just touch me already..” you plead, voice laced with a desperation he just can’t deny right now.

So he slots himself between your legs, brushing his hands up and down the tops of your thighs, slowly opening your legs up for him and you shudder when the cool air hits your most sensitive parts. Taking one of his hands and cupping your heat, he expects to find the damp fabric of your panties, but is instead met with the slick dripping off your bare pussy, he groans in surprise, length twitching in his suit trousers when he feels you hot and wet against his palm,

“Shit, no panties huh?” He smirks, surprising himself with how into this he is when says, “Kind of feels like you planned this, pretty girl”. You whimper in response, grinding your hips into his hand and he grabs your hip to stop you.

“Use your words. What do you want, hm?” He asks, biting at your neck again.

Your mind is so hazy you can barely form a sentence, still in disbelief that you’re actually here right now, spreading your legs for none other than Gojo-Sensei, and he doesn’t even know it's you.

Through frenzied breaths you manage to choke out, “F-fingers..I want your fingers..please..” And he bites his lip so hard he starts to taste metal. 'So polite, so cute and needy, you don’t even know who you’re begging right now..This is so fucked, but i’m already here. Might as well finish what I started right?'

A long finger teases your folds, dipping into your heat for a split second and pulling back out to trace feather light circles over your clit.

You’re dying at this point, head tipping down to nuzzle into the crook of his neck as you whine, begging “please, please, do something..” you shudder, and he rubs a hand along your back soothingly.

“Shh, I got you, baby.. Only ‘cus you asked so nicely..” He coos, sliding his middle finger inside you to the base of his knuckle, and you gasp, his fingers are so much bigger than yours, and that’s only one..

He starts to slide it out slowly, pushing it back in with a curl to prod at that spongy spot that has you gripping his bicep and digging your nails into it, “Right there?” He adds another finger, curling them up at your G-spot again, and you nod frantically, moaning so sweetly for him while he stretches your impossibly tight cunt.

For a short while, it drowns out any stray thoughts about morals or about this being wrong.. All he cares about right now is your sweet little pussy, dripping all over his fingers and squeezing him for dear life. 'You’ll need way more prep if you’re going to take my cock..Fuck, if you’re this tight around my fingers then..'

His groans and your moans fill the atmosphere, along with the lewd squelching of your arousal as he finger fucks you, hard. He brings his other hand forward to slide your dress straps down, freeing your breasts, he’s quick to bring his head down, placing open mouthed kisses all over and in the valley between them, he then latches his lips onto one of your nipples, peering up at you through his phantom mask, never letting up his pace with his fingers.

Your eyes meet and he bites down lightly, causing you to arch your back and furrow your brows, “Fuck, fuck, fuck… ”, and he chuckles when he feels you start to clamp down on his fingers,

“Sensitive? Are you close, baby?” He whispers, tweaking your other nipple with his fingers, and you nod again, throwing your head back against the sink mirror as you near your release, and he knows it, he feels it.

“Cum for me, pretty girl, go on, make a mess for me”, He breathes against your mouth, just barely brushing his lips against yours but not kissing them, and your coil snaps, you moan loudly as you come down from your high, thighs shaking uncontrollably, this is your first orgasm that wasn’t self induced. And it was given to you by Gojo-Sensei..Your mind feels so foggy..

His fingers slow their pace, helping you ride it out as he feels your cum coat his fingers, and he wants to do it again, he wants, no, he needs to feel you cum again, but on his cock this time..

In the blink of an eye he grabs your legs and pulls you forward, you yelp when you feel your ass hang off the sink, but he grabs you and wraps your legs around his waist, pressing the large tent in his pants into your still throbbing cunt, and it feels so big..

You’re still recovering from your orgasm when he grinds into you, making your body shake, and bringing his lips to your ear to whisper “Think you can take my cock now, baby? Think that little pussy is ready for me?” He grinds into you again, making your eyes roll back.

“B-but..” You hesitate, and he looks you in the eye,

“But what..?” He raises an eyebrow at you, unsure of what could possibly come out of your mouth next..

“I’m…a virgin..” You confess, peering up at him through your mask, as you see him freeze, and your stomach drops. ‘Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.’

“A…Virgin..” He repeats, slowly, trying to process the information. ‘She’s…a virgin. She’s a virgin. Wait. Of course she’s a fucking a virgin. She’s so innocent. She’s my student. Oh god. She’s my fucking student. What have I done? She doesn’t even know it’s me. Fuck. Yep, the alcohol just wore off. This is too far. I went too far.’

He slowly sets your legs down to the floor, taking a step back with a deep breath, ‘calm down, Satoru, just make an excuse to leave now, and freak out about it at home.’

Pulling his phone out and enacting an emergency, he dramatically gasps at his screen, placing a hand on his cheek as he fakes reading a supposedly very important text message,

“Ahhh, shit, so sorry sweetheart, I really have to go, I uh.. My son's dog, he’s really sick! Throwing up all over the house, it’s really bad..” He inches closer to the door,

“We might need to put him down! Poor thing, practically waiting to be put out of his misery now. I’ll have to console my son and everything..You know how it is! Thanks for understanding! Take care!” He tries to pull the door open, but it’s locked, “Shit” he mutters under his breath, turning the lock as quickly as he can and all but lunging out the door to run to his car where he can panic in peace.

No fucking way.

You’re left dumbfounded, staring at the door with trembling thighs and a slightly dropped jaw. He did not just do that. You try not to take it personally, I mean, he literally didn’t know it was you, but wow, that was…wow..

Your lip starts to tremble slightly as thoughts flood your mind, ‘why didn’t he wanna fuck me?! Is it because I'm a virgin? Fuck, I shouldn’t have told him..’ You rip your mask off, tossing it away on the floor, and all but ripping your hair out of your up-do. What if this was your only chance with him and you just blew it?

Walking out of the bathroom, you feel tears staining your cheek and your mascara run but you don’t care in the slightest. Avoiding any and all reflective objects so as to not witness the hot mess you are right now.

One chance. You had one chance to actually fuck the man of your dreams and you blew it. You were so close, he fingered you, he fucking fingered you and then you fumbled. Fuck, you hate yourself.

Not even thinking twice, you make your way out of the main hall, trudging down the parking lot onto the street and into the nearest bar. Alcohol will help. Alcohol always helps.

---------------------------

A shot turns into two, then to three, then to who knows how many, you lost count, but you’re drinking! Who doesn’t love to drink? Not you, you fucking love it. Drinking makes the feelings go away!

“Excuse moi! Can I haveee just oneeeeeee more shot of Tenquila? Pleaseeeeeee?” You slur your words to the poor bartender who looks at you with concern.

“I think you’ve had enough te-quila miss. Ten shots to be exact. Do you have anyone that can take you home?” He questions, hoping you would say yes.

“Boooooo! I still wanna drink though!” You frown, making a thumbs down gesture at the bartender who is definitely not getting paid enough to deal with this.

“Miss, either you call someone or we’ll call you a cab, but I’m kicking you out. For your own good.” He says sternly, instantly regretting it when he sees your eyes well up with tears.

“FINE!” You sniffle, fishing your phone out of your purse, and dialling the first person that comes to mind..

Though your little drunk self doesn’t seem to notice, or care, that she hears a phone ring behind her, at the exact moment she is making the call, which picks up in an instant anyways. You don’t give him a chance to answer before you shout through the speaker,

“GOJO-SENSEI…CAN YOU COME PICK ME UP? I’M B-BEING KICKED O-OUT…F-FROM A BAR..” You shout, in between sniffles and sobs, throwing your head down on the bar counter and closing your eyes.

A minute or so passes but it feels like ten, because when you lift your head up, Gojo sensei is paying your bill and leaning forward to drape your wobbly arms around his shoulders.

“Sensei! Y-you came! That was fast!” You exclaim, hiccuping mid sentence as you stare at his face, his hair is up and he has his blindfold on now, you throw your head on his chest as he picks you up from the bar chair, bridal style.

“Yeah, of course I came, darling, Let’s get you home, okay?” He swallows the lump in his throat, still beating himself up about what happened earlier. He took advantage of you and you didn’t even know, and here you are, thinking of him first to call for help.

The guilt hits him hard when you nuzzle into his neck during the walk to the car, drunkenly muttering something about how he makes you feel so safe. You’re so pure and wholesome. He’s just disgusting.

But still, he can't help the small smile that creeps up on his lips every time he glances over at you, passed out in the back seat on the way back to the dorms. He’ll make it up to you, he’ll atone, in his own way.

How you didn’t notice him following you down the street and into the bar to keep an eye on you was beyond him. He must have really upset you when he left so suddenly, but it was the right thing to do.

He’ll have to teach you more about noticing your surroundings, what if you had been stalked by someone, or ambushed by a curse in your vulnerable state? He sighs while carrying you into your room, setting you down on your bed as slowly as he can to avoid waking you.

Your heels clack on the ground where he disposes of them, before pulling the covers over your body. For a second, he stares down at you, taking off his blindfold to really look at you. Runny mascara, disheveled hair, and a crease between your brows as you drift off into dreamland.

He’s unsure of what he feels at this moment. Guilt? Lust? Confusion? All the above?

A light snore snaps him out of his thoughts. Right, he should let you sleep, after all that happened, this is the least he can do..

“Goodnight, pretty girl” He bites the inside of his cheek, as he leaves your room, sighing as he teleports into his own.

Stripping off his clothes, he lays his head on the pillow, arms crossed over his chest as he stares into the ceiling, knowing at least one thing for sure;

He’s not getting any sleep tonight.

————————————————

Chapter 4: CRUSH?

Nausea, a thrumming headache, and bile rising in the back of your throat are what greet you the second you open your eyes. Clearly last night went great for you, though your hazy mind is telling of the fact that you will have no recollection of it for a while.

It’s not exactly pleasant, spending the first portion of your morning hunched over the toilet bowl, spilling your guts (and regrets) from the night before, but in a way it’s like you’re letting it all go, flushing it down the drain where it belongs so you can pretend it never happened and peacefully move on.

Which, speaking of what happened, what the fuck did you even do last night? Do you even wanna know? Probably not. But judging by the fact that you went out drinking and ended up in your own bed, clearly nothing happened with Gojo-sensei.

You’ll take this failed attempt with a grain of salt, there’s always more chances after all, or at least those are the bullshit words you’re spewing at yourself now to make you feel better.

Accepting that fact, you spend the rest of your morning fighting through the urge to go back to sleep while you get ready for your mission later today. You’re supposed to be joining Yuji and Nanami to gather more leads on the patchface curse, but Gojo will be taking you there, and regrouping with you all at the end of the day.

All the more reason to get dolled up, aside from masking the fact that you look and feel like a walking corpse, courtesy of your lovely hangover of course. Cherry lip gloss, fake eyelashes, and a bow in your hair are enough to do the trick, you reckon.

You decide to grab a quick bite before heading over to the main building to meet Gojo. You’ll need the energy to prepare for whatever antics you have in store for this poor man today. On your way to the cafeteria, you get a message informing you that your new uniform is ready for pick-up today. Perfect, Gojo-sensei can drop you off.

—------------------------

“Morning, Sensei!” You shout, walking across the courtyard to his car and he waves back in your direction, leaning against the hood and scrolling on his phone, he immediately stuffs it into his pocket when he sees you and straightens up.

“You’re early, that eager to work with Yuji again?” He smiles, remembering how well your previous missions with the pink haired boy all went. He opens the car door for you to climb in.

“Maybe i’m just eager to see you” You smile, buckling yourself in while he climbs in next to you, doing the same, though his hands fumble with the buckle slightly when you give your reply. He quickly catches himself, coughing and fixing his rearview mirror as he shifts the topic, a little more tensely,

“Did you eat breakfast?” He asks.

“Oh, yeah I did, actually..do you mind taking me somewhere?” You ask back, tilting your head and looking at his side profile. He opted for his blindfold today, his hair sticking up, accentuating his side profile. His sharp jaw and long nose make him look nothing short of a sculpture, something someone spent hours of their time carving and shaping into absolute perfection. He licks his lips in contemplation, the thin layer of saliva casts a small sheen on them, and you can’t help but lick your lips back at the thought of how they would feel on top of yours, it invades your mind, the same way the artificial cherry of your gloss invades your mouth, a taste you’re sure a certain somebody with a sweet tooth would love.

You’re positive you’re wearing these emotions on your sleeve, at least it’s enough for him to sense it, since he shifts his attention back to the road, his smile falling a little at how intensely you’re staring, a sort of hunger present behind those wispy lashes of yours, not bold enough to comment on it, but it subtle enough for a man as perceptive as himself to pick up on.

“What-” He clears his throat “Where do you want to go? I don’t mind if it’s on the way.”

“The tailors” You reply, reaching into your bag and pulling out a lollipop, the rustling grabs his attention and he looks over.

“The tailors? You got a new uniform?” He asks, typing in the location to the tailors on his phone, and smiling at you.

“Mhm, everyone’s switching to summer uniforms lately. Thought I was due for an upgrade” You explain, extending your lollipop to him with a small tilt to your head, and he shakes his in response, thanking you anyways for the offer, you shrug and pop the plastic off, wrapping your lips around the candy with a satisfied hum, muttering a soft “your loss” as the sugar melts on your tongue.

It really is the simple things in life that fill you with joy, like the taste of artificial fruits, and the blush your sensei is so obviously trying to hide while he forces himself to focus on the road rather than your sweet little hums as you suck, and suck, and suck on the sugary treat, a little more feverishly than a normal person might. 'You must really love candy', he thinks. Swallowing down the saliva he didn’t know gathered in his throat.

You decide to bite some more, not sure if you can chew it all just yet, but still biting for the thrill of it.

“You sure you don’t want some? I know you have a sweet tooth like me” You pout, taking the sucker out of your mouth with an audible pop, holding it up to his face, and a groan dies in his throat. This is basically indirect kissing, right? Or is he overthinking this? Technically, he already kissed you once before, even though you didn’t know it was him, and you ended up getting trashed hours later and passed out in the back of his car.

He must have gotten lost in thought for a while because you start waving it around, pouting as you say “Come on, share with me! It’s too big for me to suck on all by myself” Suppressing your smirk at the last line as you enunciate each word with a soft whine.

He stiffens a little, mind going a hundred miles a minute as he tries not to focus on how every word you say somehow translates into an innuendo in his sick mind. There’s nothing inherently wrong with what you said, or what you’re offering.

He’s the weird one here. You’re just dying to share this lollipop with him. Who is he to refuse, especially when you’re being so kind to offer it twice. 'What’s sharing a piece of candy with your student, right?' he tells himself.

He opens his mouth, and you giggle, plopping your lollipop onto his tongue, his lips wrap around the candy and his breath hitches slightly, the sucker had your saliva all over it, he can taste you faintly in between the notes of sugar and fruit, and although light, it still overpowers the sweetness of the candy to him, all he can taste is you, not the same way he did a few moons ago at the ball, but still tasting you nonetheless. And just as he remembers, you’re sweeter than any candy. He unintentionally sucks harder, hoping to sap every last drop you left on there. If he can’t kiss you the way he wants again, he’ll savor any taste of you he can get.

‘This is messed up’ He thinks. How his tongue swirls around the candy languidly, savoring the taste. To the external eye, he’s just nursing a lollipop. And just as he thought, when he turns his attention back to you, you’re zoned out, tapping your prettily manicured nails atop his window. Unaware that his pervy self is concealing a semi because you're sweet enough to share a candy with him.

‘Damn, I need to get laid soon..’ He shakes his head, deeming that the case for his teen-like hormonal surge as of late. He doesn’t need you, he can’t need you, he just needs someone to relieve him of his tension. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t escape the mental image of you with your dress tugged down your pretty tits, head thrown back in ecstasy as you moan and gush all over his fing-

“Your destination is on the right!” The GPS announces, snapping him out of his lewd train of thought. With a shaky sigh, he pulls into the parking spot.

“I need to make a call, so you go ahead.” He lies through his teeth, leaning forward to hide the growing tent between his legs. Maybe he should ask for a looser pair of pants while he’s here..

“Hm, okay, I’ll be quick, but first-” You smile, daringly leaning over to place a quick peck on his cheek and to your surprise, he lets you, dropping his infinity barrier a second before your sticky plump lips meet the softness of his cheek. He freezes and you take the chance to slip the lollipop out of his mouth, popping it into your own with a smirk, leaving the car before he even has a chance to speak. He sits there for a moment, processing what just happened. It was just a sweet gesture right? No ill intentions behind it..Right?

Your lipgloss stains his cheek, and he brings a hand up to his face, brushing over the pigment, transferring the residue to his thumb. He observes the soft sheen, slightly red with specks of iridescence. It glimmers under the sunlight that seeps in through the cracks in the clouds. It’s pretty, he thinks, the subtlety of the color perfectly compliments a sweetheart such as yourself. It’s a downright shame the thoughts that plague his mind are anything but sweet.

With a gentle lick to his thumb to rid it of the stain, and a long sigh, he throws his head down onto the steering wheel, sliding a hand down over his trousers to grip his now fully hard erection with a hiss. He needs to stop. From now, all he’ll think about today is Gakuganji in the shower, another mental image he’ll never be able to erase, but a far less thrilling one. It’s humorous how quickly his hard-on went limp in his hand, and he silently thanks himself from 12 years in the past for breaking into the old geezers quarters to replace his shampoo with hair removal cream.

Minutes pass, and he finds himself reminiscing on his school days with a soft smile, one that slightly falters when you enter the car again, in a much shorter skirt.

One that was definitely borderline against school rules, especially with the way you’re sporting it with no tights underneath. Normally he wouldn’t care about things this trivial, you have the freedom to wear whatever you want anyways. But he’s sure you’ll rub some staff members the wrong way while practically parading around in a mini-skirt. He clears his throat, pulling out of the parking spot and handing you his phone.

“Wanna play music?” He offers, and you accept, scrolling through the music app to find your favorite songs and adding them into a playlist titled “ Your fav student :P”

The rest of the car ride is silent, but it’s comfortable. Apart from your occasional hums and mumbles to the song lyrics, there’s no pressure from either of you to hold small talk or conversation. Gojo-sensei drives relaxedly, an easy smile on his face, his eyes flicker to your thighs every once in a while, sighing in the process, and thankful he wore his blindfold today, so you wouldn’t see the way he ogles you, simultaneously wanting to punch himself for letting his gaze wander yet again.

When he drops you off with Nanami and Yuji, he bids you all farewell, and unsurprisingly, you lean in to give him a hug before he leaves, which prompts Yuji to do the same, throwing himself into the mix like a hyper-active puppy that just wants to be included, screaming “Group hug!”

“Alright alright, get in here both of you!” Gojo chuckles, wrapping both his arms around yours and Yuji’s shoulders, tucking you under his freakishly long arms. His large hands rest atop your heads, ruffling your hair as you squirm around, the three of you laughing like idiots.

The sudden sound of a throat being cleared snaps you all out of it, the blonde haired man standing before you seems unimpressed to say the least.

“Gojo-san, if you’ll excuse us, we have a lot of work to get on with. Please reserve your foolishness for another time.”

“Someone’s a buzz kill..” Gojo mumbles, dropping his arms to his sides, and stepping back. You turn to face him, cupping your hand around your mouth as you whisper shout “We’ll resume this later!” With a grin, and he chuckles in response, waving you off as he walks back to the car.

You turn back to face Nanami, who is already eyeing you up and down with an unreadable expression on his face. You had never worked with him before, but you’re no stranger to teaming up with Yuji. At least he’ll make this fun, you think.

A monotone voice calling your name forces you to straighten up, you lock eyes with Nanami as he blatantly says,

“I understand you’re Gojo-san’s student as well, let me make it clear that I am not of the same mindset. I expect you to be on your best behavior if you’d like to stay on this mission.” You frown at his words, what’s that supposed to mean?

Yuji must have sensed your discomfort because he immediately resorts to damage control, laughing nervously with a hand behind his head as he reassures you, “Nanamin is like that with everyone, he was even worse with me at first. Don’t let it get to you.” He smiles, and you can’t help but feel your heart warm. Perhaps this mission won’t go so badly after all.

Nanami interjects with a sigh, fixing his ugly glasses as he says to Yuji “I told you to stop calling me that.”

Yuji shrugs, retorting with a simple “Loosen up, Nanamin!”, to which the drained looking man sighs for what seems to be the 20th time in the span of a few minutes, opting to shake his head and start talking the two of you through the plan for today. He goes on, and on, seemingly never stopping with his useless explanations.

'It’s just a stupid curse' you think. you can all just tag team it and get it over with in a day. Why does he have to overcomplicate it? You rest your chin in the palm of your hand, struggling to keep your eyes open.

It's going to be a long day..

—------------------------

“They’re human.” Shoko confirms your suspicions over the phone, causing a tension so thick in the room it nearly starts to feel stuffy. You had noticed it, from the moment the first few transfigured curses fell at your hands. Something felt off, Yuji sensed it too. It was only when Nanami took a photo of the curses’ arm that you knew. But hearing it out loud just makes it more real.

Your eyes drift to Yuji, who is seated beside you on the small sofa, across from Nanami. His gaze never leaves the ground. He’s sulking, despite Shoko reassuring the two of you over the phone that you didn’t kill them, they were already dead. Death in this sense is upsetting, but it isn’t major to you, nor is the act of killing another human for that matter. Though for Yuji it seems to be a completely different case, you know he’s beating himself up about it. He’s empathetic, the type to really feel affected by the suffering of others. You admire how he wears his heart on his sleeve, unlike you who buries all your pain in the back of your throat and swallows it whole without chewing.

“Yuji?” You call him softly, and he meets your gaze for the first time since sitting down. “You mind showing me the restroom? I forgot where it was here.” You smile, and he smiles back gently. He knows you’re lying. There’s signs all over the building that lead you to where you need to be, but he still stands up, getting the message that you’d like a minute alone with him.

You reach the end of the hallway when he finally turns to ask “What did you wan- oh.” You silence him with a tight embrace, wrapping an arm around his neck and another around his head, bringing his face down to your shoulder.

“Shut up. Just let me comfort you.” You whisper, rubbing his shoulder soothingly as he relaxes into your hold, his sniffles are muffled against the fabric of your uniform, as he lets it all out.

“Senpai, I-” he tries to speak again, but you cut in once more, knowing what he needs most now is to hear “You’re not alone. Whatever you’re shouldering, I will too.” You smile when he hugs you tighter, nodding as he wipes away the tears threatening to spill from his ducts.

“And don’t call me Senpai. It makes me feel old.” You poke at his side, and he squirms, smiling and pushing your hand away.“You are old though.” He jokes, but you punch his arm, making him wince like a child and laugh.

“Alright, that’s enough comfort then. You don’t deserve it anymore.” You laugh with him, both of you walking back to the room where Nanami is. You’re unsurprised when you see Gojo-sensei in the same room. He did say he was going to regroup with you all at the end of the day. Yuji brightens up when you sees him, rushing to his side on the small sofa.

You follow with a smile, waving at Gojo as you approach the group, though you quickly realize there’s nowhere for you to sit now. The 2-seater sofa is occupied by Yuji and Gojo, and atop the only other chair in the room sits Nanami.

Gojo notices and makes a move to get up and offer his seat to you, but in a swift movement, you grab his arm to stop him, slotting yourself in his lap before he even has a chance to interject. He freezes. Nanami freezes. Your heart races, knowing this could either go very smoothly, or very badly. Though, to your surprise, Gojo simply clears his throat, relaxing back on the sofa as he turns his head to Nanami.

“So. Where were we?” He asks, as if nothing just happened. As if your perky little ass isn’t seated right on his crotch in front of another student and a coworker. He can’t let this get to him. Not in front of everyone. You’re just taking a seat. Nothing more, nothing less. It just so happens that your already-too-short skirt has ridden up enough for him to feel everything.

Nanami moves the topic quickly, continuing his explanation to Gojo about the events that occurred and the leads you were able to get today. You, on the other hand, are still not making it any easier for your poor sensei.

You absentmindedly tap your nails against the arm of the sofa, shifting in Gojo’s lap to get more comfortable. A particular shift from your hips causes his cock to twitch. He groans, disguising the noise with a cough. He gently places a hand on your upper hip, stilling your movements with a deep breath as he tries for the life of him to focus on anything but the warmth emanating from between your plush thighs. ‘Naked Gakuganji, Naked Gakuganji…’ He repeats in his own head like a mantra.

He talks back and forth with Nanami, discussing the next steps in tracking down the patch-face curse, you couldn’t be bothered to listen, knowing it’ll all get simplified in an email later on anyways. You must have been pretty zoned out because a tap on your hip snaps you back to reality.

The reality where Nanami is staring you dead in the eyes as he speaks, with anything but a gentle tone, “...As as I was saying. Will you and Itadori-kun excuse us for a minute? I need to have a word with Gojo-san. Alone.” He emphasizes the last few words, making it clear he wants the two of you gone, now.

You nod and stand up from Gojo-sensei’s lap, Yuji follows as the two of you walk to the door, Yuji waves to both of them with a sweet smile, and you turn your head back, saying goodbye as well, but only Gojo says it back.

There is a silence that fills the room once yourself and Yuji leave. Gojo is about to make some snarky comment when he gets sucker-punched in the face by Nanami’s question.

“So how long have you been fucking your student?” Nanami asks in a tone so sure it even makes Gojo doubt himself for a split second.

“What?” Gojo asks back, unable to process what just hit him.

“You heard me the first time.” Nanami states.

“Yeah and I'll also hear it if you told me you liked your job but that doesn’t make it true.” Gojo scoffs, running a hand through his hair as he realizes the absurdity of the question he's being faced with.

“You seriously have the nerve to be sarcastic when faced with a question like that?” Nanami's tone comes out a little more aggressively.

“Well you had the nerve to ask me that stupid question in the first place.” Gojo retorts, with a similar bite in his tone.

“Don’t take me for an idiot.” Nanami grits his teeth, removing his glasses to squint his eyes at the white haired man sitting in front of him.

“Hard not to when you’re accusing me of being a fucking pervert.” Gojo argues, clenching a fist on his thigh.

“Then do you care to explain to me the reason she acts so suggestively towards you?” Nanami asks, clearly trying to back his coworker into a corner.

“And what exactly is suggestive about the way she acts?” Gojo’s knuckles turn white from how hard he’s clenching.

“Leaning in to you, batting her eyelashes, licking her lips, the try-hard tone of voice she puts on only when you’re around-” Nanami starts to list off, before he’s interrupted by Gojo’s incredulous laughter.

“Yeah, just like every other young girl I speak to that tries to get my attention?” He retorts, shaking his head with a deep sigh. ‘ What the fuck is Nanami’s problem? ’ He thinks.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much.” Nanami rolls his eyes, fed up.

“It’s not flattery, it’s fact.” Gojo states blankly, having had enough of this conversation,

“She sat in your lap.” Nanami poses, certain he can’t deflect this argument.

“There was nowhere else to sit. If it was so ‘suggestive’ do you think she would have done it with others around?” Gojo defends, “Maybe you’re the perverted one here for seeing it that way.” He spits out, bringing a deep furrow to Nanami’s eyebrows.

“What the hell are you saying?!” Nanami growls, raising his voice.

“I’m saying, no girl is immune to the effects of my charm.” Gojo shrugs, as casual as ever, as if he’s not having one of the most absurd conversations in his life.

“Quit fucking around, Gojo.” Nanami sighs, straightening up in his chair.

“You see, Nanami, this is actually what it’s like when a girl has a crush on you. Not that I expect someone like you to know about that.” Gojo states, laughing in his coworkers face, but faltering for a moment. ‘Wait, Crush? Why would I say that?’ He thinks.

Nanami simply stands up, having heard enough of Gojo’s shit. This conversation was going nowhere, not when the man before him is deflecting like he’s born to do so.

“You’re full of shit, Gojo, and you know it.” Nanami states, walking towards the door without bidding a second look. “Yeah, well…you’re not even a fart!” Gojo shouts at his frame as it disappears past the door and into the hallway.

He sinks back on the sofa, sighing deeply as he tries to digest everything that happened to him today. Surely none of it was obvious, right? You aren’t doing anything wrong. You’re just a sweet girl who happens to be the object of his twisted desires. Maybe Nanami sees through that, in that case he just needs to up his masking game, something he’s more than used to already.

But it still isn’t an excuse for the man to just throw baseless accusations like that. It’s disrespectful to him, and also to you.

Anyone could tell those were bullshit claims, anyways. Though, it does cross his mind that everything you seem to be doing is exactly what he was used to from girls that wanted him in the past. The thought grows in a way he really doesn’t want it to. Those girls were always his age. It makes no sense that an innocent girl like you would intentionally act that way with a teacher. Right?

Well..Unless you do have a crush on him, he thinks..Then it hits him. The lollipop sharing. The staring. The physical contact. It all starts to click.

“Shit.” He mutters, throwing his head into the palm of his hands.

You have a crush on him.

[isas-bathbombs]

Guess who’s back ;)

QUESTIONS

1. If you had to choose between true love but the lover dies after 5 years OR never to have loved at all, which would you choose and why?

2. Random fact about yourself that isn’t widely known

3. What are you like at parties if you like parties??

4. If you could pick one not-abnormal ability, what would you pick? Like the ability to solve any rubix cube under 5 seconds or something

5. Love language? Which is your favorite to give and which is your favorite to receive?

6. What song has been playing in your head on loop for ages?

7. Academic weapon or academic victim?

1. why is the first question already so tough?? at first i thought of picking the latter, but i think it’s better to be loved for 5 years than to not be loved at all. even if my lover would be gone, the love would still be there. i was loved once and maybe that’s enough for me

2. i had a hyperfixation on rollercoasters and theme parks once

3. uhh depends on what kind. i’m insanely awkward in family gatherings, old people scare me. but i’m usually good and surprisingly talkative when its parties with people my age, especially if im with my friends. tho i’m a mess once my social battery dies and i get overstimulated

4. i want to be insanely good at chess. or be like mc in rl where i can fit an absurd amount of hotdogs in my mouth. or be able to speedrun the most random games no one ever thought of speedrunning before

5. for giving, i like giving gifts!! for receiving, i like words and touch

6. lately its the spiderman pizza theme. no idea why

7. i used to be an academic weapon 💀 however stress and mental health beat my ass and now im struggling. my school gives an absurd amount of work so im constantly busy these days. literally been waking up at 3am every day just to study or catch up on schoolwork. i’ll never understand how bela or cass lives like this. one day the lack of sleep and constant consumption of coffee WILL get to me

[whisperthatruns]

Jail Poems

1

I am sitting in a cell with a view of evil parallels, Waiting thunder to splinter me into a thousand me's. It is not enough to be in one cage with one self; I want to sit opposite every prisoner in every hole. Doors roll and bang, every slam a finality, bang! The junkie disappeared into a red noise, stoning out his hell. The odored wino congratulates himself on not smoking, Fingerprints left lying on black inky gravestones, Noises of pain seeping through steel walls crashing Reach my own hurt. I become part of someone forever. Wild accents of criminals are sweeter to me than hum of cops, Busy battening down hatches of human souls; cargo Destined for ports of accusations, harbors of guilt. What do policemen eat, Socrates, still prisoner, old one?

2

Painter, paint me a crazy jail, mad water-color cells. Poet, how old is suffering? Write it in yellow lead. God, make me a sky on my glass ceiling. I need stars now, To lead through this atmosphere of shrieks and private hells, Entrances and exits, in . . . out . . . up . . . down, the civic seesaw. Here — me — now — always here somehow.

3

In a universe of cells—who is not in jail? Jailers. In a world of hospitals—who is not sick? Doctors. A golden sardine is swimming in my head. Oh we know some things, man, about some things Like jazz and jails and God. Saturday is a good day to go to jail.

4

Now they give a new form, quivering jelly-like, That proves any boy can be president of Muscatel. They are mad at him because he's one of Them. Gray-speckled unplanned nakedness; stinking Fingers grasping toilet bowl. Mr. America wants to bathe. Look! On the floor, lying across America's face— A real movie star featured in a million newsreels. What am I doing—feeling compassion? When he comes out of it, he will help kill me. He probably hates living.

5

Nuts, skin bolts, clanking in his stomach, scrambled. His society's gone to pieces in his belly, bloated. See the great American windmill, tilting at itself, Good solid stock, the kind that made America drunk. Success written all over his street-streaked ass. Successful-type success, forty home runs in one inning. Stop suffering, Jack, you can't fool us. We know. This is the greatest country in the world, ain't it? He didn't make it. Wino in Cell 3.

6

There have been too many years in this short span of mine. My soul demands a cave of its own, like the Jain god; Yet I must make it go on, hard like jazz, glowing In this dark plastic jungle, land of long night, chilled. My navel is a button to push when I want inside out. Am I not more than a mass of entrails and rough tissue? Must I break my bones? Drink my wine-diluted blood? Should I dredge old sadness from my chest? Not again, All those ancient balls of fire, hotly swallowed, let them lie. Let me spit breath mists of introspection, bits of me, So that when I am gone, I shall be in the air.

7

Someone whom I am is no one. Something I have done is nothing. Someplace I have been is nowhere. I am not me. What of the answers I must find questions for? All these strange streets I must find cities for, Thank God for beatniks.

8

All night the stink of rotting people, Fumes rising from pyres of live men, Fill my nose with gassy disgust, Drown my exposed eyes in tears.

9

Traveling God salesmen, bursting my ear drum With the dullest part of a good sexy book, Impatient for Monday and adding machines.

10

Yellow-eyed dogs whistling in evening.

11

The baby came to jail today.

12

One more day to hell, filled with floating glands.

13

The jail, a huge hollow metal cube Hanging from the moon by a silver chain. Someday Johnny Appleseed is going to chop it down.

14

Three long strings of light Braided into a ray.

15

I am apprehensive about my future; My past has turned its back on me.

16

Shadows I see, forming on the wall, Pictures of desires protected from my own eyes.

17

After spending all night constructing a dream, Morning came and blinded me with light. Now I seek among mountains of crushed eggshells For the God damned dream I never wanted.

18

Sitting here writing things on paper, Instead of sticking the pencil into the air.

19

The Battle of Monumental Failures raging, Both hoping for a good clean loss.

20

Now I see the night, silently overwhelming day.

21

Caught in imaginary webs of conscience, I weep over my acts, yet believe.

22

Cities should be built on one side of the street.

23

People who can't cast shadows Never die of freckles.

24

The end always comes last.

25

We sat at a corner table, Devouring each other word by word, Until nothing was left, repulsive skeletons.

26

I sit here writing, not daring to stop, For fear of seeing what's outside my head.

27

There, Jesus, didn't hurt a bit, did it?

28

I am afraid to follow my flesh over those narrow Wide hard soft female beds, but I do.

29

Link by link, we forged the chain. Then, discovering the end around our necks, We bugged out.

30

I have never seen a wild poetic loaf of bread, But if I did, I would eat it, crust and all.

31

From how many years away does a baby come?

32

Universality, duality, totality . . . .one.

33

The defective on the floor, mumbling, Was once a man who shouted across tables.

34

Come, help flatten a raindrop.

Written in San Francisco City Prison Cell 3, 1959

Bob Kaufman (1925--1986), Collected Poems of Bob Kaufman (City Lights Books, 2019)

[decoartspacefinds]

Excited to share the latest addition to my #etsy shop: Wooden busy cube puzzle, Busy board toddler personalized, busy cube 1 year old, montessori toys 6 months old, montessori toys baby https://etsy.me/43FW4Je

[toniko]

side stories spoilers

there was only a little bit of LHH in these new chapters? I mean more of him next chapter but I miss him so bad…

oh but seriously hyunwoo is so gilyoung coded it’s crazy, the image of them lying side by side… LHH’s sentiment about them looking like brothers is such a sweet sentiment

otherwise i feel it’s finally time to settle my opinions on the readers

1: Lee Hakhyun (my serious favorite chara of all orv)

He refuses to let ANY reader die, it really reminds me of that Dokja selfishness for his companions but it somehow expresses so much kinder out of LHH idk, i just be saying shit now

thank goodness that he’s slightly better emotionally regulated, i love how everyone loves him as well n he so loves them back (especially that 41!YJH guy…) (damn this kind of rehashes my reasons for loving Dokja but that guy is severely more emotionally constipated so i like LHH better)

he feels like such a reliable guy, he really makes sure everyone will be okay n it truly feels like orvss will have a good ending bc he’s there to see it through

yk that feeling of pride u get when Kim Dokja gets hyped up on ORV, yeah i get that for LHH so hard he’s like my guy ever if i were a constellation, half my savings would be gone bc im busy gassing up LHH. he’ll do anything n ill be like “damn RIGHT he did, my goat”

2: Cha Yerin

theater dungeon cube room convo my beloved, literally a top 5 scene for me and all they did was talk

seriously tied w her brother but i think i like her slightly more because she’s the first reader 🥺 i mean LHH’s biggest number one fan literaturegirl64, likes his original works more.

the story of her n her brother is such a, idk gets my heart… orphanage, siblings? she’s blind and her brother has info dumped orv in audio over 6 complete times to her? amazing (this one of applies to why i like both characters, duh)

also just one of the most skilled fighters, ik orv women go crazy but orvss has so many new top tier female fighters, rlly said “no constellation” just a martial arts goat, she n her bro stood out immediately as the badass readers. her design makes me rlly happy too, i keep thinking abt it please make her real blackbox or webtoon ( in aprox. 6 years…)

the 1 on 1 convos she has w LHH are always so special to me, more than ever LHH is an author to her and she is his reader

she’s living my dream btw (got to read LHH’s old novels)

3: KillerKing (Cha Sunwoo???)

i think maybe, if LHH didn’t STILL call you KillerKing (regardless it’s what you go by damn) then I’d remember ur real name

idk I genuinely have to revisit the chapters to check again bc no one is updating any wikis… no should i do it? anyway

he is easily the funniest new character of the side stories bar none, god damn YJH kinnie, chuuni ass

recent recycling center arc (the animal masks one) sold me so hard on him, how can he consistently be like “no, go on without me!” flips black coat n still be cool… coolest lamest guy ever

jophiel is also such a cool constellation sponsor, some of the other readers have yet to have constellations so im excited to see what they end up with

his idea of surviving also being not to be like kim dokja but to do what you’re good at? it’s so good, makes so much damn sense. amazing.

the duo video game skill is awesome, I just can’t believe YJH beats the really cool co-op siblings bc he’s a fucking pro gamer, like get a JOB

4: Ye Hyunwoo

is that right? you want to be kim dokja but you can’t. this mf sets off 20 red flags every damn chapter but there’s that sense that he will always remain an ally cause he’s a smart kid and very self-aware so it’s also tragic in that sense

oddly enough he feels like an outsider to the group but he’s around really often n i think he really sets that distance himself

i think he’s really gotta embrace that he’s okay with being taken care of and hiding behind someone but is also capable himself. gong pildu literally your dad little man. I think we’re really at the trickling last bits of his general character arc

5: Lee Dansu (Noh Kyunghwan) (made me cry like 20 times)

favorite dilf in the apocalypse. im joking. maybe

inevitable insane tragedy of staying alive beyond his family

his entire like arc got me bawling my eyes out ong i just wish for him to be happy, kindly middle aged man who only read orv to understand his daughter? like what if i end it all omg it’s so… 😭😭😭

my wish is for him and hyunwoo to talk deadass. they should mourn together. hyunwoo knows what happened to his daughter and they both share a really close connection w her

there’s a real time to shoe him in these chapters bc that’s his daughter’s best friend n then his constellation came down too? deadass

6: Kyung Sein (does this count as trans girl)

she’s goofy silly cute… him? i mean it’s the only time we’ve seen a different gendered reader to character deadass did they run out of incarnation bodies for transmigration?

but anyway, i think it’s fun that she just stans heewon so hard she worked out n then is like bros with hyunsung. 41!YJH legitimately values her and the rest of the companions in combat. this round is so interesting bc like there’s the usual incarnations + the readers who got crazy good powerful so the balance is wrecked

honestly she and Lee Dansu were like, the first companions so there’s a sense of fondness that just comes from knowing them for so long

7: Ji Enyu

victim of less screen time bc she’s being badass on her own, seriously. initially she’s all like “haha what if we get put in the orv world there’s no way I’d survive” n she’s surviving the hardest, the balls on this woman. i think my jaw drops everytime she appears bc she’s got new awesome abilities n powers n connections. don’t even need that YJH carry

+ Yoo Sangah constellation, + LHH’s equivalent of Yoo Sangah, + the editor of ORV (its editor…. 🥹)

she and LHH literally got that best friend feel on, just looking at each other n understanding each other

also possessing King of Beauty is unironically crazy, but so so funny. someone who found her own way but still remains a reliable ally all the way through

seems to be getting more screen time this arc PLEASE more of her

that’s the companion readers i deadass can not write anymore in this tumblr post i mean i can. oh wow the readers are so fucking awesome man…

[purplemninja]

I wanna know your thoughts on some of the animatics/AMVs in the fandom honestly there’s so many great ones, I’ve only seen one amv that made me question my sanity, so I think they are overwhelmingly amazing

To be honest, I don't think I really saw that many. Spoilers ahead for some LN fan content.

The AMVs that come to mind (for me) are the JT Music songs animated by Harry101UK, RenLII and ooCatoo's 'Open up your eyes'. Ren and Cat made amazing LN stuff, but they sadly retired from LN (Cat moving onto other fandoms, and I think Ren left the internet entirely (or moved on to another fandom under a different name)).

I watched Harry101UK years ago when I was in my 'portal' phase, though I still wish he'd make the next part of 'going home', so it took me by surprise when he made his Portal - Little Nightmares crossover video. I love the crossed over enemies and obstacles in it, like the Patient P-Bodies and tiny cubes and cores, and the section of Six wearing the long-fall boots. Not to mention the amazing cover of LN2's theme, the turret vocal cover of the Six's theme part of it was epic. And I also wasn't expecting it to be big enough to reach the LN subreddit or for Harry to then make animated videos for JT's LN songs.*

As for animatics, I've seen even fewer. I only really remember watching some of Burnt Paws' videos like 'Heart heart head' and 'Happy halloween'. I also watched Mai's video 'Six's guilt' and was sad that she wouldn't continue it due to the reveal of LN2 being a prequel. Then she made her animatic 'Old Friends Anew', and since it was post-LN1, thus Six has her powers, and she encounters Mono again, I was hooked. I love it whenever the fandom brings Mono and Six back together again, but with Six also having powers this time, putting her on more equal ground with Mono.

When part 2 finally came out, I liked that when Mono mentioned that she left him, Six got to finally speak up about some of the things Mono did that made her lose trust him, as most of the time the things Six went through gets ignored and overshadowed by what Mono went through. But Six unfortunately gets interrupted and she doesn't continue, which disappointed me a bit (Though in ScruffiBerri's 'Togetherness AU', she manages to voice the things Mono did wrong to her without interruption, which is one of the breaths of fresh air from Scruffi's AU).

And then Mai made the third and final part of 'Old Friends Anew' much sooner than I expected, but... it honestly was pretty underwhelming because it was just basically like a business transaction between Thin Man and the Lady. And the odd transition makes it more so, because part 2 ends with Mono and Six reunited in the tower (albeit, Mono snatched Six into a TV), and then it suddenly is a conversation between Thin Man and the Lady. Pretty underwhelming ending in my opinion.

That's all I really have to say on AMVs and animatics.

*Also a little ramble is that Harry's Portal - Little Nightmares crossover made my mind conjure up a 3-way crossover AU between LN, Portal and Undertale. Basically Six drops Mono in the Signal Tower as usual, but Mono ends up falling through a portal and landed on the yellow flower bed at the start of Undertale and proceeds to go through the events of the game in Frisk's stead (since Frisk isn't there). While Six went through the screen portal after dropping Mono, but instead of the apartment living room, she ends up flying out of a monitor of (would-be) Chell's cell. Glados notices Six, is confused about the unexpected appearance, but goes along with it and Six goes through the events of Portal 1 and 2 in Chell's stead (since like Frisk, Chell isn't there either). At some point, Mono wonders how things are going for Six, and Six is having fun falling through a portal on the floor and another on the ceiling like every player did at one point. And when Mono is standing in the sunset with Toriel, Sans, Papyrus, Alphys, Undyne and Asgore at the end of the pacifist route, he again wonders how Six doing wherever she is, and it crosscuts to Six walking out in the sunny wheat-field after Glados finally gave her her freedom post dealing with Wheatley.

I probably won't ever make anything for this 3-way crossover but others are free to do so if they want.

[itsuki-minamy]

"AYAKA – SIDE STORIES 06": ESCAPE

TRANSLATION: NARU-KUN

* List of Chapters

(1)

Aka Ibuki's parents died when he was eight years old.

It was an accident.

On the night of the typhoon, the car his father was driving fell off the mountain road when he was returning home. Perhaps because of the shock of the accident he had no memory of that moment. Before he knew it, he was lying alone in a hospital bed.

According to the doctors, it was a miracle that he survived.

He heard from his aunt that the truth was different.

"It's my sister's will. Please prioritize prolonging his life."

Apparently that was his mother's will. His father died instantly. His mother was also told that he had died shortly after telling his aunt.

His aunt followed the will of his mother.

That's why Ibuki didn't die.

After being released from the hospital, his aunt took him in, but that didn't last long. After a month of waiting for Ibuki to recover physically and mentally, his aunt took him on a boat and sailed to an island in the south.

The name of the island is Ayaka Island. It was the first time he visited the place.

As soon as he arrived, his aunt headed to a deserted cafe in the old town.

There he met a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt with a really bad print. He is in his early twenties, but despite his youth, he has a strangely old and withered feel to him.

"Hello..."

The man stared at his aunt, smoking the pipe in his mouth and ruffling his strange, finely braided hair with his hands.

"He is neither a dog nor a cat. Don't say that lightly."

"I can't raise this child on my own. Not because of his qualifications. Also because of his environment."

"Then, why me?"

"There is no other suitable option."

"I'm not a random fortune teller either."

"I heard you're already taking care of someone."

"Is he originally from this island? It doesn't matter."

"Not one or two people will change."

"So he's neither a dog nor a cat."

Interactions between the adults went back and forth, like a conversation on the other end of the phone.

For starters, even though she is his aunt, he barely knows her. She is his mother's younger sister and she visited his house once or twice a year. That was the extent of her existence. He has never played with her and has never really talked to her. They only had a strange exchange once. He sensed that not only Ibuki, but also his father and his mother, who was her older sister, were overwhelmed by his aunt's presence.

This was probably due to his aunt's taciturn and gloomy personality, and also due to her unknown occupation.

However, the reason Ibuki is alive is because of his aunt's "business".

That's why... he actually wanted to live with his aunt. He also told his aunt, but she rejected nephew's request.

And she brought him here. She approached a man with a bad attitude sitting across from him at the table.

"I'm not a real "Myakutsugi". If I keep him on my side, things won't turn out well."

When he told her that, her aunt was as grim and expressionless as she always was. However, there was something beautiful about the way she sat in the chair, although she didn't seem worried. It's the same solid place where Ibuki's wishes were rejected.

"First of all, you'll probably be in trouble if you stay like this. From what I saw..."

The man looked down and glared at his aunt.

"You've made a lot of progress, right? Isn't this a good opportunity? Why don't you wash your feet?"

"It's not just me."

"Anyway, I'll give you a hand, okay?"

"It's useless. If you take risks, things will get out of control. This is the path I chose in the first place."

"Did you choose?"

"No. I had a choice. I made the decision."

The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes, groaning softly. His aunt kept her face like a mask and said nothing more.

The shop windows were open and the sunlight streaming in illuminated the tables. The ice cubes melted in the glass on the table in front of him, making a sound. He could hear the bubbling sound of cider. Ibuki listened attentively to the silence of the adults, staring at the small, playful bubbles in the glass.

Then, he suddenly looked up...

He noticed that the man was looking at him.

Their eyes met. There was sympathy in the man's eyes. Since his parents died, other adults... besides his aunt... have looked at him.

However, there seemed to be a depth in that man's eyes that he had never felt before.

He has a harsh but rich depth, just like the ocean that surrounds this island.

"Heh.", the man's mouth curved into a smile. He laughed. That alone was strangely attractive to him.

"I'm Yanagi."

"Eh?"

"Makoto Yanagi. What about you?"

"Ibuki Aka."

"Aka? That's another strange name."

His classmates had told him that many times, but that was the first time he had heard it from an adult he had just met. Furthermore, he was smiling arrogantly. He seemed congested, but for some reason he didn't feel any discomfort.

"You heard what we said, right? Your heartless aunt plans to leave you with me. Are you okay with that?"

It was a mocking tone, but he could understand that it was meant to ease Ibuki's tension. Then he nodded frankly.

His aunt said it was useless and Ibuki said the same. The only relative he knows is his aunt, and if she doesn't want him by her side, there is no other adult he can trust. For Ibuki, it doesn't matter if it's a stranger, a facility somewhere, or an ugly man in front of him.

Just one thing.

The man in front of him, who called himself Yanagi, had a special "meaning" to Ibuki.

"...You're also a "Myakutsugi", right?"

His aunt told him. Yanagi is a "companion" of his aunt.

After confirming that the Yanagi man nodded, he continued.

"Please. Please teach me."

That was Ibuki's only purpose at that moment.

Yanagi stared at him and then let out a sigh.

"Hey, do you know what a pulse connection is?"

"I don't know the details. But I..."

He looked at his aunt sitting next to him. Whether or not she noticed Ibuki's gaze, his aunt was still looking at Yanagi with a mask-like expression on her face.

Ibuki's life was saved by his aunt.

If he could be like his aunt...

At that time, if he were "Myakutsugi"...

It is possible that his father and mother had not died.

"I want to become "Myakutsugi"."

Ibuki shifted his gaze from his aunt to Yanagi and said with deep emotion.

Yanagi's eyes looking at him grew deeper.

That's when it happened.

"...Oh, perfect."

Yanagi suddenly muttered.

Then, a small white shadow gently slid across the table where the three of them were facing each other. He entered the store through an open window. Ibuki couldn't help but feel shocked.

An insect... no, that size he immediately thought it was a small bird, but they were both different. It's origami. For an unusually shaped paper airplane, it's oddly flimsy. It looked more like a cut-out piece of paper than origami. Best of all, it slid on the table and didn't fall. He continued to float above the table.

Ibuki's eyes widened, but Yanagi and his aunt didn't seem surprised either.

"Did you find it? Bring it to me."

He spoke to the floating origami. Ibuki didn't understand and looked at Yanagi and then at his aunt in surprise and doubt, but neither of them offered any explanation.

However, he suddenly understood. It's Yanagi. He is controlling that piece of paper with the power of "Myakutsugi".

"......"

After a while...

Garan.

The bell rang and the cafeteria door opened.

Then a breeze blew through the gap and the same piece of paper he saw slipped into the tent.

Then a boy entered the store following the piece of paper.

The person who entered was a boy about Ibuki's age. Although he was a child like him, he wore the Japanese clothes of a shrine priest.

The piece of paper flew through the air and headed towards Ibuki's table. The boy's gaze followed the movement of the paper and reached Yanagi. He then looked at his aunt, who was sitting with him, and then at Ibuki.

He seemed like an intelligent boy and had the grace of a "good-natured monk". He felt that the gap between the boy in the deserted cafeteria, dressed in Japanese clothing, and a child, highlights something like the boy's "elegance". He reflexively thought it was the exact opposite of him.

Separated by his parents, abandoned by his relatives and surrounded by a heavy atmosphere, he is a gloomy child who does not know what the future holds for him.

He is a pure and wise boy who wears a perfectly wrinkle-free suit and looks at him without the slightest hint of darkness in his eyes.

However, curiously, no feeling of inferiority arose. Maybe it was because the surprise of the piece of paper was still there, and maybe it was because he felt "out of place" at first. Before feeling miserable compared to his opponent, he thought, "What is this?".

A strange, hairy guy who appeared in the middle of a serious topic.

The imbalance of the situation is as if the god enshrined in a small shrine on the island suddenly showed his face in the human world.

"Haruaki. This way."

Yanagi called and the boy approached. After bowing slightly to Ibuki and the others, he asked Yanagi, "Master?", as if he was asking for an explanation.

Yanagi addressed Ibuki first, not the boy.

"Aka. This is Kurama Haruaki. Like you, he is my disciple and seeks to be a connection."

He was relieved. What his aunt had mentioned earlier in the conversation, "taking care of him alone", was probably referring to that child. This boy, who seems to be the exact opposite of him, has the same goal as him.

And...

"So, Haruaki. This is Aka Ibuki. From today, he will be my youngest disciple."

Hearing those simple words, not only Aka, but also the boy in front of him, couldn't help but look at his face.

The expression on the boy's face was one of surprise, confusion and anxiety. And a little hope for the future. A friendly curiosity towards Ibuki, who is the same age.

What about Aka? He wondered how he was looking at him now.

Yanagi smiled, showing his white teeth as the two fell silent due to the suddenness of the situation.

"Let's get along, okay?"

Beside him, he heard his aunt let out a small sigh of relief.

That day, Ibuki Aka met Kurama Haruaki and became Makoto Yanagi's apprentice.

It was the beginning of a new life with a new family.

After...

(2)

Seven years later.

The same smile from back then was in front of Ibuki's eyes. Inside a black frame. Ibuki just stared darkly at that smile that he would never return.

Five days have passed since Yanagi sacrificed himself to quell the fire dragon after the Shinoshima eruption.

Two days had passed since Yanagi's funeral.

(In the end, I...)

It has been seven years since he arrived on the island and seven years have passed since he received Yanagi's teachings. Ibuki worked hard on his training every day and the results of his training were imbued with him. This year he turns fifteen. Ibuki is now on the verge of connection.

But did those seven years really have any meaning?

Ibuki intended to connect like him to protect "his family". But the result is this. Ibuki also lost his "family". This unbearable loss shattered Ibuki's seven years.

His body was heavy. It was as if the flesh and bones had turned to mud. The pitch-black tar adhered to his entire body, eroding it and weighing on his heart. He even felt that his anger at his defeat was being crushed.

In the end, he was unable to protect him.

No, even if he had wanted to protect Yanagi, they couldn't even die together. Even gathering all his strength until the end.

"......"

Ibuki clenched his fists as if to fight the feeling of emptiness. He gritted his back teeth. The force rebelled against itself and his still scarred body groaned in pain. However, it really wasn't enough. He was sure that he deserved more intense pain. The pain was so great that it destroyed him.

However, no pain would be enough to drown out that crippling loss.

"...Aka-kun."

Ibuki turned around slowly when he heard the voice from behind.

Momoko Amamiya was standing there. Her complexion is the worst, but she keeps smiling. This person is always like this. Even when times are difficult or sad, she perseveres and gets through them with a calm smile on her face. She tries to get over it.

"Are you okay? You didn't get much sleep last night either, did you?"

"It's nothing... I'm fine."

"So, what about food? You haven't eaten anything since this morning, right? Shall I make you something simple?"

"No... I have no appetite."

Momoko's smile turned into a wry smile at Ibuki's empty voice.

"But... the wound hasn't healed yet. You need to nourish yourself a little."

"Such thing..."

What Momoko said was correct. She always carefully accumulates the most mundane and everyday things. She doesn't worry about it, but she doesn't hesitate, as she becomes the basis of her life. Only through that rich foundation created, people can advance. She understands it without any logic.

Momoko herself must be enduring a loss as profound as his. Still, she can care about others. Ibuki felt quite inferior to her strength.

Except that...

What is the meaning of nourishing yourself now?

There is no “future” he can move toward now.

Ibuki stayed silent and Momoko didn't force him further. She shifts her gaze from Ibuki to behind him. Ibuki turned to look at the deceased once more, hoping to be drawn in as well.

Makoto Yanagi.

It was exactly like the impression he had when they first met, that he was a careless guy. At the same time, he was also a "great hermit", worthy of admiration by the people of the island.

Strong, generous and bold. However, he was a mysterious man who also had small subtleties.

Ibuki's master. And, maybe... a second father.

He thought of him as some kind of monster that wouldn't move no matter what he did. It was a natural existence, as if it were part of this world, like the wind, water and sun.

He couldn't believe he wasn't there anymore.

"...I'm sure he'll be apologizing in the afterlife. He'll be exaggerating, saying it's hot, but he won't feel bad in the least..."

Momoko said jokingly. There was a slight tremor at the end of the sentence, but Ibuki pretended not to notice.

Makoto Yanagi is dead. He died.

Maybe... normally, it shouldn't have happened that way.

(Damn! It's my fault after all.)

He knew that the fire dragon's power was increasing. Yanagi also took precautions against that problem. It is true that the moment was terrible, but if there had been a little more time, it would have been possible to deal with the situation.

That little bit of time.

They couldn't prepare for even that small period of time.

He couldn't help his master.

What a shame.

"I..."

A series of melting thoughts welled up from the depths of his heart. A dizzying fever and chills shook his entire body.

(I should have stayed. Even if he had died as a result.)

When he thought of the relief he felt at that moment, he couldn't help but cry. At that moment, he would have given everything he had and lived his "life" to the fullest. There may have been some regret, but there must have been some pride.

But it was not suitable.

He left his master and retired.

And he will continue to live without the feeling of being "alive."

(Why? Why is this happening?)

So...

"...Aka."

The moment he heard that voice, it was as if the black tar that was eating him suddenly ignited and burst into flames. The feelings welling up from deep within his chest turned into anger like magma.

He looked back.

His brother was standing there, looking at him with a sad look.

His heart beat violently. The flow of blood seemed to press against his earlobes.

Still, the reason he didn't get angry right away was probably because Momoko was there.

"Haruaki-kun."

Momoko's voice had a slight hint of impatience. Although he didn't talk about the details, she must have guessed something from the way the two of them behaved when they returned from the island. They had grown up like true brothers, but an unusual rift had developed between them.

"......"

Ibuki took a step forward. As he passed by his brother.

"Come on."

He said quietly and continued without looking back.

After a moment, he realized that his brother was following him. Ibuki continued walking, trying with all his might to contain himself, who looked like he was about to explode.

"Ah, Aka-kun?"

Momoko called out to him from behind, but he ignored her and left. Even his brother didn't criticize Ibuki's attitude. He may have decided it would be better if it was just the two of them too. Without saying anything, Ibuki put on his shoes and walked out the door. His brother followed him in silence.

Without thinking, he walked around the house and out into the garden. Ibuki was in front, followed by his brother.

In fact, he was planning to move to a more remote location. But when Momoko disappeared, he couldn't take it anymore. Ibuki's body trembled and stopped. His brother also stopped, following his movements. Ibuki turned his entire body around him and the two looked at each other.

"......"

Kurama Haruaki, Ibuki's brother.

Kurama calmly accepted Ibuki's silent scolding gaze.

Kurama's complexion was pale and his expression dark. Compared to the face of his brother, Ibuki, he seemed to have aged suddenly. He wondered if it was since Yanagi died that he looked him in the face like that. Even when they recovered the body of his mentor and at his funeral, the two barely exchanged a glance.

And now...

Ibuki felt like he was going to lose himself with the anger bubbling inside of him. He could feel the negative emotions boiling and burning his mind and body.

"Ah..."

Stepping ahead of his brother who was about to call him, Ibuki spat out a sharp question.

"Why did you run away?"

Kurama's face stiffened.

+++++++++++

As Momoko had guessed, there was still a gap between the two of them at that moment that was dripping with blood. A sharp and icy crack where pain, anger and helplessness erupt.

Maybe the brothers were trying to make up for it. Ibuki still thinks there's no way he can do something like that, but maybe that's what he wanted to do at that moment.

Trying to heal the wounds, even a little. Look forward like Momoko.

Of course, he couldn't do that.

In fact, the gap widened.

For Ibuki, the conversation they had only confirmed that it was impossible to repair their relationship. It was clear that the two had separated.

So he left the island. He wouldn't say anything. He wouldn't leave anything behind.

Not that it was a guess. But, he could not stay on the island.

However, as soon as he left the island, he had an idea of where he should go. Or maybe he was remembering it unconsciously. A phrase that his master once told him. He listened to snippets of a conversation he had with a "girlfriend" who was "from the same industry" as if it were someone else's business.

It was like catching a cloud.

Still, Ibuki bet everything on that possibility without hesitation.

(3)

A Mitama floated in the air, emitting a faint light.

For young Ibuki, "it" he rarely saw existed in his daily life, like a butterfly or a spider. It wasn't until he was finally old enough that he realized that "it" was invisible to anyone but him.

When Ibuki found out, his mother told him not to tell anyone. However, Ibuki didn't think that being able to see "it" was anything special. There was nothing good about being able to see "it," and he had never had a bad experience because he could see "it." To young Ibuki, "it" was so obvious that he didn't feel like thinking deeply about it.

So, of course, he had no idea of the dangers such a "specialty" entailed.

"Help me!"

Behind a nearby shrine stretched a half-abandoned grove of trees.

What he saw that day was a little different than usual. It usually gave off a dim light, but that day it seemed cloudy for some reason. Seeing it made him feel disgusted. Then he threw a stone. It was a light feeling, like he was shooing it away. He never thought "it" was going to "fight back".

The murky light condensed and solidified, revealing a pair of creepy eyes. He attacked Ibuki, shaking with laughter.

He ran away desperately.

But "it" haunted him.

As he chased after Ibuki, "it" gradually grew larger, becoming more sinister and "disgusting" as he approached from behind. Ibuki almost stopped breathing from fear.

Still, he resisted with all his might.

"Go over there!"

He waved his arms and raised his voice.

At that moment, "it" suddenly stopped moving, but the situation only got worse. Due to the encouragement given to him, his eyes recognized Ibuki and pointed firmly.

"It" jumped and approached.

That would hit him.

Ibuki instinctively closed his eyes, but the pain and shock he had predicted did not come. On the contrary, he noticed that the "unpleasant feeling" he had felt suddenly vanished.

When he opened his eyes in surprise, he saw the back of an adult standing there, as if he was protecting Ibuki from "it".

It was his aunt. Just as Ibuki was shocked once again by "it", he fell to the ground on the other side of his aunt and melted as if he was boiling. Ibuki looked dumbfounded at the scene in front of him.

His aunt looked over her shoulder.

Then, she told him with the same cold look as always.

"You have talent. It's not good."

+++++++++++

It was raining a lot.

A woman dressed in black mourning stood in a corner of the cemetery, holding a black umbrella. The flowers she had offered lay wet from the rain on the grave in front of her.

Ibuki looked at the woman's back from a distance, compared it with the vague memory of her, and then walked out under the shade of a tree. There was no umbrella. Instead, he pulled the hood over his head.

The woman should have noticed him by now, but there was no noticeable reaction from her. Ibuki walked towards the woman in front of the grave, consciously trampling the gravel under his feet.

Silently, he stopped behind the woman.

The drizzle gently hit the woman's umbrella, wetting Ibuki's hood. The smell of plants melting in the rain tickled his nose.

(What should I say?)

Ibuki pondered as he looked at the woman's back.

"Long time no see, huh."

The woman opened her mouth first. After a few seconds of silence, Ibuki answered briefly: "Yes.".

"How old are you now?"

"Fifteen."

"Yes. It's been seven years since then."

The woman said as she slowly turned around.

She looked at Ibuki.

"You have grown."

"...Compared to before."

After all, he hasn't seen her since he became Yanagi's disciple. It is their first reunion since childhood. At the very least, it was natural that the figure had grown larger.

On the other hand, the woman in front of him had not changed at all from what he remembered. At least that's what he thought.

A pale face and lifeless eyes. She has an inorganic touch, with an exhausted expression. It's the same as when she invited Ibuki to Ayaka Island. It was as if time had stopped for her.

However, unlike when he was a child, Ibuki could now see things.

Tense but perfectly controlled vitality. She is sharp and hard, but also flexible. The woman in front of him possessed the "power" of a well-trained Japanese sword. She also has a dark "power" that causes the blade to become soaked in blood.

Ibuki unconsciously gasped at the cold touch. His body was naturally tense.

Yanagi's "companion".

Another person Ibuki knows.

(How should we talk?)

Ibuki was thinking more nervously than before. However, as if to relieve his stress, the woman turned her head and looked at the grave again.

The grave where Ibuki's parents are buried. These are the graves of her sister and her brother-in-law.

Today was the anniversary of their death.

"Do you come here every year?"

He asked before thinking about it. "Yes.", the aunt answered the question indifferently.

"Because it's a relationship."

"Relationship? You mean your immediate family?"

"That's true... but it's a little different. For me, my sister was the thread that connected me to the world she lived in."

"World?"

"Yes."

His aunt nodded slightly.

"A different world than the one I am in, a real world. It is because I am connected to that that I was able to avoid falling."

"Even after her death?"

"Life or death does not matter."

His aunt said flatly. There was no pressure from those words, but Ibuki still couldn't help but tremble.

"I'm definitely connected to that place. For people like me, that fact is important. I visit here once a year to confirm its importance."

He was aware that he probably didn't fully understand the meaning of his aunt's words, that she said that so calmly. Still, he felt that he could grasp the "weight" contained in her words. She dared to tell him that story and that was her intention.

In fact...

"It seems that Yanagi has died."

He assumed that meant the introduction was over. She got straight to the point.

As Ibuki trembled and prepared himself...

"But yes. It seems like that man didn't take any shortcuts. It was the right decision to leave you there."

"What do you mean?"

"Now you can stand on your own."

That was a surprising evaluation and he had to admit that it was an evaluation that went against his expectations. Once again, Ibuki realized that he wanted to be looked down upon as an immature chick instead of treated as a full-fledged person.

Because once they recognize you, you can't trust them anymore.

He pressed his lips tightly. Once again, he was made aware of his own weakness and complacency.

Her words and actions were probably based on reading Ibuki's intentions when he came to meet her. However, he couldn't go back there. He had to hold on to that, even though it was ugly.

"Please."

Ibuki exhaled from all over his body.

As if he wanted to throw himself to the ground, he fell to his knees and prostrated himself.

"Please make me your disciple. I want you to start from scratch!"

The mud soaked his knees and the rain wet his back.

Inadvertently...

"You said a long time ago that I have a talent. Then you will be able to bring out that talent. Any method is fine. It doesn't have to be the right path. Even if I stray from the path!"

A long, heavy silence followed.

Only the rain was pouring down, severely chilling Ibuki's body.

After...

"Why?"

Her aunt asked briefly.

Ibuki rested his forehead on the ground.

"I want revenge on my master's enemy! I don't want to lose anyone else. I want the "power" to do it!"

He appealed with all his heart.

At that moment, it seemed as if the life line flowing beneath the earth trembled slightly.

The silence returned.

After...

''Even if you go off the path...''

His aunt murmured. Even though the few lines she said were in the same voice as before, it sounded like some kind of crazy emotion was coming out of her.

"It seems you've heard from Yanagi."

"...There aren't too many details."

"Still, you know that, right? That I am a user of evil methods."

"Yes."

"And you came to me?"

"That's all."

Ibuki answered clearly.

His aunt took a deep breath.

Her voice was somewhat hoarse, as if she had suddenly aged.

"...Moron."

(There is no doubt. I am stupid. Still, I cannot choose another path.)

He couldn't choose.

That day, Aka Ibuki became a disciple of his second master in his life.

(4)

"The important thing is harmony."

Ibuki nodded tentatively in response to his brother's explanation, not really understanding.

It's been half a month since he went to the island, he separated from his aunt and became Yanagi's apprentice. They had already met with the Amamiya family, where they were staying, and Sanji Inou, who was a friend of Yanagi, took care of all the arrangements. Ibuki is already a resident of Ayaka Island. Legally, at least.

However, he did not feel that he fit in on this idyllic island that he visited for the first time. In fact, he makes her realize how foreign he is.

"Ah. Look! The flow of life is very rich on this island, right?"

As his older brother said, "that thing" was common on this island. Additionally, they are all a little larger than those seen on the mainland. This fact was undoubtedly part of the wealth his brother was talking about, but Ibuki's honest impression was that there were a lot of insects in the field and they were huge.

Apparently, on this island, "it" is called "Mitama".

"...I see. Now that I understand things like harmony and abundance, please tell me more about the techniques. If I'm going to be a connection, it won't work unless I can use jutsu."

Ibuki grumbled, feeling self-conscious.

To put it in a childish way, to Ibuki, a pulse connection is a "wizard". And a magician is a magician because he can use "magic". A wizard who can't use magic is like a fish who can't swim. No, first of all, literally speaking, a person who cannot use magic is not a "wizard".

And the brother in front of him, who is only a year older than him, is certainly capable of using magic.

He was later told that the mysterious pieces of paper floating in the air that he saw when he met them were apparently manipulated by his brother. This boy already masters the same connection technique as Yanagi and his aunt.

However, when his brother heard Ibuki's hurried murmurs, he shook his head as if he had his way.

"No, Ibuki-kun. The most important thing for a pulse connector is not to manipulate the technique, but to feel the movement of the vital pulse and vital energy. To become one with nature, or, rather, to observe the life form. I mean, the art of connection is just a secondary aspect of that style."

His brother gave him a pompous lecture with a clear and proud expression on his face. It's been half a month since they met, but he already had a good idea of his brother's personality. He is an intelligent, classy and somehow elegant "good monk", just like the impression he had when he first met him. At the same time, he was a "weird guy" who was quite out of place.

If the two were classmates, it would probably be for the other's sake to force him to become the troublesome class president. He was sure he would be happy to do it too.

However, when he becomes "brother", he is quite annoying.

"...Haruaki."

Yanagi has also confirmed that there is no need to hold back. Ibuki shouted his brother Kurama's name with a clear hint of displeasure, even though they still called each other by their last name.

"I already completely understand your connection theory. But I came here to learn the technique. Both you and my master can use it, but I am the only one who still can't use it. I don't like that. I can't forgive myself for being the only one who seems to be "different"."

"That's because Ibuki-kun just became an apprentice."

"It's Aka."

"Eh?"

"Come on, Aka, it's okay."

He didn't want to pressure him, but his voice came out naturally. Kurama looked confused. He wanted to get along with him, but it wasn't working. That was his face.

Ibuki continued speaking, realizing that the cause of this was not Kurama but himself.

"I also heard something similar to what you are saying from my master. I understand that this way of thinking is the basis of connection and that it is important. I suppose it is a philosophy of connection or a way of thinking. But with that said, I want to go there as soon as possible."

Now that Ibuki has lost his parents and left where he lived, the only people he turns to are the feelings of being "connected". And even before that thought was even vague, Ibuki felt like he was wasting his time without even having his feet on the ground. That feeling also led to frustration.

He wanted to "feel" it as soon as possible. To feel that he was not wrong, to feel that this is right and to be able to accept the current situation.

"...Please, Haruaki."

Kurama also seemed to sense Ibuki's frustration. His older brother withdrew his usual smile and looked at Ibuki with a serious look. Then, after some hesitation, he made up his mind and nodded.

Face Ibuki head on and slowly close the distance.

"Close your eyes."

"Eh?"

"Alright."

Kurama spoke with a serious tone. Ibuki suppressed the resistance that he had suddenly learned and closed his eyes as he told him.

"Breathe deeply, relax your body and try to relax."

Following Kurama's words, he only opened one eye. Kurama, who was standing right in front of him, had both eyes closed. Likewise, he took a deep breath and relaxed, concentrating slowly and deeply. Ibuki quickly closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sharpening his awareness.

Concentration.

Ibuki's thoughts disappeared.

"Can you feel the movement of the life force flowing through you?"

"Somehow."

"Focus on the flow."

"I'm doing it..."

"More. Like seeing it with your eyes, touching it with your hands, feeling it."

"......"

He thought it was ridiculous.

However, he quickly discarded the ridicule and became serious.

He seriously concentrated from the bottom of his heart to feel the vitality. At a level that he didn't even notice on a daily basis. He chased the sensations that he had somehow always felt, as if he were seeing them with his eyes or touching them with his hands.

The vitality within him.

Kurama's vitality was right next to him.

Besides...

"Oh, the Mitama came. Do you understand?"

"......!"

He understood it.

His eyes remained closed. They haven't even touched his body. However... the Mitamas were at their side.

Two... no, there were even more. Three bodies, four bodies and more. There are many different ones, eleven in total. Floating in the air, as if emerging from the ground, a total of eleven Mitamas approached and gently surrounded the two of them. He could clearly feel their presence without seeing them with his eyes or even touching them with his hands. Not only their existence, but also the curiosity that the Mitamas have towards them.

Recognition.

That fact gave him goosebumps with excitement.

"...Okay. So, while we maintain the current state, let's take our senses "outside". "Down" would be good. Look further down, under your feet. Do you recognize it?"

Recognize. There was something there.

Far below the ground he walked on.

Something vast, like the ocean, shimmered and flowed underground. A mysterious band of light that is both dazzling and vague at the same time. Vast, secret, solemn and beautiful. Countless... swarms of Mitamas, as many as stars, are born like bubbles and are devoured again.

The things that make up the world cannot be seen with the naked eye, but they are definitely there.

The life line.

Just looking at it made him feel like he was being sucked in.

Ibuki was...

(Wah...)

He screamed and stumbled, feeling like he was drowning. He clung desperately to whatever his hand suddenly touched.

Ibuki was about to fall when something gently covered the hand he was holding himself with.

"Touching, pulling and connecting with that thing is what connects us to our pulse."

Before he knew it, Ibuki opened his eyes, which should have been closed. His back was broken and he clung to his brother, grabbing the chest area of his clothing with both hands.

Kurama lightly placed his palm over the hand he was holding on to.

Kurama was silently looking at Ibuki with his usual smile on his face. Ibuki gasped, looked at Kurama, came to his senses, and let go of his hand.

The feeling he had just before disappeared.

However, the "real feeling" remained.

The "real feeling" that he had definitely come into contact with something bigger than he wanted, but far beyond him.

"I'm sure you can do better if you practice..."

Kurama said shyly and looked at Ibuki.

"What do you think, Aka?"

He didn't seem proud and he didn't even seem like he was trying to react. It was a simple, natural question with no other intentions.

Ibuki took a deep breath.

His body was full, but his mind was blank. He had no time to decorate it nor energy to protect himself.

Just openly, but with a serious face...

"I'm hungry."

Kurama smiled widely and nodded.

"I agree."

+++++++++++

A moonlit night in the mountains, in the middle of nowhere.

Ibuki stared at "it" with an icy gaze as it laughed silently. The bulging eyeball in the center of "it" looked at Ibuki with amusement.

Ibuki now knows the familiar name of "it".

Aramitama.

"Uh, "exterminate" the core without damaging it."

Ibuki nodded slightly without turning around as his master ordered him from behind.

There is a power that flows beneath the earth and is the source of life.

Yanagi has that power, which goes by various names around the world... and his aunt also called it "the life line". It is said that all life originates there and returns there after death. He doesn't know the truth and he doesn't need to know it. What matters is the fact that it is about "power".

Pulse connection is a technique that uses that "power", the vital energy that flows through the veins of life.

Ibuki crossed his arms and fingers to form a seal. Although the movements were Yanagi style, his aunt, who became the new master, did not try to change her disciple's movements to her own style. That's because his "true strength" isn't there.

"Man, earth and sky!"

Ibuki chanted a curse and controlled the life force within himself. Naturally, the essence of life also flows through Ibuki. However, it is not enough to have his own vitality. Therefore, the pulse connector uses his own life force as a priming source, pumping life force from the life line flowing at the bottom of the earth. This is how he makes use of the life force of his life line.

However, when Ibuki used the technique outside the island, he realized once again how blessed Ayaka Island had been with the blessings of life. On the continent, the flow of life is deep and fine. That is why a more severe control of power is necessary.

The Aramitama approached Ibuki relentlessly, regardless of Ibuki's circumstances. He still didn't have enough vitality. Ibuki evaded the Aramitama's charge by rolling.

(Damn!)

It was as if he had returned immediately after becoming Yanagi's apprentice. However, the new master did not give any advice to the undecided disciple. She was just watching him.

No, or maybe she was just watching. Whether Ibuki is injured or not, there is no guarantee that his aunt will help him.

But that was fine.

A trusting heart becomes sweet. Pampering takes away strength.

"Man, earth and sky!"

Ibuki reassembled the technique once more.

The lifeblood that flows underground sometimes rises to the surface and bursts out of the surface. When the life force that has left the life line acquires a certain quantity and density, it takes a form called Mitama. Ibuki has seen the mysterious sea moon swimming in the air since he was a child. Those who have the talent to do so cannot see it with the naked eye and are basically useless and harmless, like insects.

However, the life force that constitutes the Mitama sometimes becomes "stagnant" due to the influence of the outside world. When all their vitality stagnates and becomes clouded, the Mitama strengthen their own existence and begin to attack things that are sources of influence from the outside world: people.

Like that Aramitama right in front of him.

(Next, decide!)

With a strong light in his eyes, Ibuki completed his technique. Life pulsated and moved the atmosphere. A whirlwind occurred that gained momentum in the blink of an eye. Furthermore, the life energy that created the whirlwind condensed and converged, turning into a sharp blade.

Countless swords slashed at the Aramitama. The Aramitama let out a voice that could not be called a scream or laughter as it broke into pieces and crumbled.

Finally, only the center eyeball, the core of the Aramitama, remained in the air. However, the moment Ibuki relaxed his mouth, the last sword grazed their eyeball.

"Ah..."

He couldn't help but exclaim. But it was too late. The wound caused by the blade spread rapidly and the eyeball, like the rest of his body, collapsed and disappeared.

(Damn.)

Ibuki gritted his back teeth. His aunt's instructions were not to damage the core. And the Aramitama that just disappeared before his eyes was the third Aramitama of the night.

He has done it many times with the Aramitama. Even if the individual was much more powerful than the current one, he was confident that he could purify it on his own. That's what it seemed like.

Neither the unfavorable conditions of being outside the island nor the irregular fighting style of leaving behind only core can be used as an excuse. That result is nothing more than proof of Ibuki's immaturity. The feelings of worthlessness that he had been carrying since losing Yanagi were finally weighing heavily on him.

However, even after the disciple's third failure, the aunt's expression did not change.

With the same calm voice as the two previous times...

"One more time."

She said briefly.

Then, his aunt raised her right hand slightly and gently extended her index finger.

Then, she murmured a spell into her mouth.

In the dark forest deep in the mountains, his aunt's fingers were white as if they were glowing faintly in the moonlight.

As if attracted by the whiteness, a new Mitama emerged from somewhere in the forest.

The Mitama floated and approached his aunt without hesitation.

Like a dragonfly, he perched on the tip of her outstretched finger. Then, after shaking his body, he began to stagnate and become cloudy. At the same time, he expanded and became more sinister. Ibuki tensed and paled even though he was already getting used to the sight.

Finally, the Mitama's appearance changed drastically, the center of it opened and an eyeball appeared from within. From Mitama to Aramitama. It's his aunt's technique. Deliberately contaminating one's vitality was an act considered taboo in Yanagi's teachings.

"Exterminate it without damaging the core."

His aunt's voice sounded cold.

His aunt pointed her index finger at Ibuki. The Aramitama was ejected and jumped into the air, expressing distorted joy. Ibuki shook off the fear of his family, not the fear of Aramitama, but the fear of taboos, and focused on the fourth battle.

This time he was successful.

The Aramitama's body disappeared and only the eyeballs and cores that remained fell to the ground.

Leaving Ibuki, who was breathing heavily, his aunt silently approached the core and gently picked it up, as if she were picking a wildflower.

She moved directly in front of Ibuki.

"Hand."

He was salivating. Ibuki didn't want to admit it, but he extended his hand in a shy gesture. His aunt gave Ibuki the core she had collected.

Ibuki's gaze was fixed on his own hands.

He couldn't immediately describe the sensation that arose from his palm. It's raw but fake, slimy but sharp. However, he felt as if he was throbbing slightly. He is dirty, scary and stirs up negative emotions. At the same time, he was brutal, domineering and destructive.

The "power" of the Aramitama was still very present.

"It is diluted to the limit. In my opinion, there is no problem with its constitution. However, it is still not easy."

The rather modest warning sent a shiver down Ibuki's spine.

If it is painful, he will endure it. However, it was difficult to shake the physiological reluctance to do something even more unforgivable than the taboo his aunt had shown him.

If what he was about to do was a legitimate connection, for example, to Yanagi, it must be an unforgivable act. Ibuki himself would have hated him just a few weeks ago.

But now...

In front of Ibuki's eyes, in the palms of his hands, a certain "power" crouched in a terrifying shape.

In search of that "power", Ibuki left the island and the people who lived there.

He deviated.

Even if he deviates from the right path...

"Please prepare for the next thing."

"The next?"

"It looks like a big dining room."

Ibuki forced a smile and raised the core of the Aramitama above his head. He grabbed it with the fingers of both hands and crushed it with all his strength. The core collapsed and the thick contents spilled onto Ibuki's face. Ibuki opened his mouth wide to accept it and swallowed it.

It looked like a suicide attack.

During Ibuki's childhood, he followed in Yanagi's footsteps.

(5)

The season has arrived when it is cold on the island.

While sweeping the shrine grounds, Kurama stopped for a moment to look at the trees. Then, he suddenly thought of the passage of time.

The smell of the air was changing. Also the appearance of the trees. The pulsation of vitality.

Coming soon...

"...It is winter."

The flow of time never stops. He may not notice it right away, but changes occur day by day.

It does not matter what happens.

For example, even if a younger master or disciple disappears.

Kurama was reconsidering that obvious thing.

"He said he was going to the mainland. Maybe he doesn't want to be on this island without Yanagi-sensei right now."

Momoko said it. She also said: "If that's the case, it's okay.".

However, Kurama felt differently. He wouldn't say that Momoko didn't feel the same way, but for that reason alone, he couldn't believe that his younger brother was leaving the island.

He never runs away. Even now he felt that he left the island to move forward.

The youngest disciple left the island without saying anything. After that, Momoko received a letter where he told her not to worry, but she hasn't been able to contact him.

"I'll let him do what he wants for now."

Inou said it. Even as he said that, he seems to be working behind the scenes to at least try to discover his whereabouts. Now that Yanagi has passed away, he volunteered to serve as legal guardian for Kurama, Ibuki, and the others. Even Kurama couldn't oppose Inou's meticulous attitude of watching over him.

Just when...

"I wonder if this is okay."

He didn't know it. And there was no one left to tell him the answer.

Kurama stared at the trees as they prepared for winter.

After that, he went back to cleaning the temple grounds.

+++++++++++

"Look. It's burned."

"You, again... you just started a fire without permission and your master scolded you."

"What? You don't need it?"

"I did not say that."

"In that case, look."

"God..."

Kurama stopped sweeping the ground and turned to Ibuki with an angry look on his face. However, his angry face quickly turned into a bitter smile, and by the time he reached Ibuki's side, squatting in front of the remains of the bonfire, he had returned to his usual kind face.

"Yes."

Ibuki said, crouching down as he handed her the baked potato.

The Kurama who received that was...

"Hot!"

"Idiot. It's freshly baked. Don't hold it with your bare hands."

"Because you're... ah, it's floating in the wind, right? You're very skilled."

"This way it cools down faster."

"You use jutsu for stupid things..."

"I put out the fire with jutsu and I also use jutsu to clean up the aftermath. This is what I practice every day."

At the younger disciple's words, Kurama smiled once again and said, "Yes, yes.". Then, after making a hand seal, he recited a short spell, awakened a small kamaitachi, and peeled the skin off a baked potato as if he were using a knife.

Ibuki, who had been proud of his brother's sophisticated techniques, adopted a serious expression. Seeing the slightly regretful expression on his face, Kurama smiled and asked, "What do you think?".

"As always, you're good with that jutsu."

"Because I have the basics. Unlike someone who just wants to do practical things."

"What you are about to eat is a product of that application."

"I see. Thank you, Aka."

Kurama obediently thanked him and sat next to Ibuki. Ibuki, perhaps at the right moment, grabbed a baked potato and broke it in two.

When they both took a bite at the same time, satisfied smiles appeared on both of their faces.

"What do you think of this roast?"

"Raise your arms, Aka. You're a fully-fledged pulse connector now."

"Oh, I got my brother's approval. However, my goal is not to be a "full-fledged" person, but to be in the same league as the "strongest"."

"You don't need strength to run a roast potato shop."

"It's not a roast potato shop. I mean, why would I have a roast potato shop?"

Ibuki glanced at his brother, who still seemed a little out of place.

Meanwhile, Kurama was smiling and stuffing his face with baked potato.

"Come to think of it, Aka. Is this something Momoko-san and Jingi will share?"

"They can't miss it."

"What about the master?"

"......"

Ibuki was speechless. Originally, since he had been scolded for starting a fire earlier, he subconsciously intended to keep it a secret from Yanagi.

However, apart from Momoko, he did not believe that young Jingi was capable of keeping a secret.

Kurama seemed to be having fun somehow.

"The previous approval is on hold. If my master finds out that I don't have enough, he will definitely punish me."

"...In other words, we don't have to find out. Change of plan. Let's eat it all ourselves."

"Isn't that what it means to be persistent?"

"So make sure you don't reveal it. I'm telling you, since you ate it, you're an accomplice, Haruaki."

"Let's do this. Give the two remaining roast potatoes to Momoko-san and ask her to serve them for dinner."

"So, are you going to share the two pieces with everyone?"

"I'm going to use it as a cooking ingredient. Momoko-san will be happy, right?"

"Oh, I see..."

"Maybe some baked potatoes would be nice. Or melt butter and sprinkle with salt..."

"You're so brilliant, Haruaki! That's why you're my master's best disciple."

"Hehe. Harmony is important in everything."

"In that case, let's test the potatoes to make sure they are cooked properly."

"That's right. It's difficult if it's half-baked."

They both laughed as they finished the baked potato.

Then, when Yanagi saw the potatoes lined up for dinner, he looked at the two disciples of his in front of Momoko, who was praising the person who provided the ingredients.

Then, without saying a word, he sat down at the table, smiling bitterly at the two strangers.

[softly-potter]

Still Friends | Chapter 4: Worth the Wait

Summary: After a chance encounter at a party, Wanda and Bucky find they have more in common than they realized.

This fic is heavily inspired by 'Friends' by my lovely friend Poppy. She is aware of this fic and I've been given permission for this marvel-version retelling! If you haven't read her dramione fic 'Friends', I HIGHLY suggest it. I fell in love with the story and couldn't help but wonder, what if it was Wanda and Bucky instead of Hermione and Draco? Thus "Still Friends" was born. Enjoy!

Pairing: Bucky X Wanda

Word Count: 33,068

Warning: smut, drug use, depression

A/N: Find the rest of the chapters here; Chapter 1: Greetings | Chapter 2: Unloading | Chapter 3: Cherries | Chapter 5: Books | Chapter 6: Grief | Chapter 7: Unlikely | Chapter 8: Happy Birthday, Soldier | Chapter 9: A Christmas Moment | Chapter 10: The Best Holiday | Chapter 11: Permission | Chapter 12: Revitalize | Chapter 13: Backstabber | Chapter 14: Luck of the Dead | Chapter 15: Pain Reliever | Chapter 16: Apologize | Chapter 17: Specially Gifted | Chapter 18: New Day

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Chapter 4: Worth the Wait

May 6th, 2026

He had been dreading the night for nearly two weeks before its arrival. Bucky had known every time Sam sent out an invite text, that he would do the civil thing and attend. It didn’t mean that he wanted to.

He knew the moment he saw her, he’d want to bury his face in her hair and never let her go.

He arrived before her. Upon entering, Bucky was greeted by a lightly intoxicated Shuri, her once braided hair now loose and large, the curls covering her forehead.

“Where’ve you been, white boy?” She chirped, her smile wide. “The party started like an hour ago.”

“No, you just got here an hour early and instantly attacked my booze.” Sam called from somewhere in the kitchen and Bucky granted them with one of his rare smiles.

“It’s good to see you, I’m glad I could actually make it this year.” Shuri said as they entered the kitchen. Sam had a wash rag draped over his shoulder, intently attacking a block of ice with a pick.

“It's been a long time.” Bucky commented, and Sam laid down the pick.

“A long time?” He inquired, cocking his head. “I haven’t seen this man since my last party, and even then it was barely for an hour. What’s your poison tonight?”

Bucky shrugged, and gestured his chin to the bottle of Hennessy. “I’m a busy guy. And I’ll take that.”

Sam poured him a glass, handing it to him with one ice cube, before the door opened and more people entered. Bucky held the glass close, nodding politely to his coworkers, answering the uninterested ‘how are yous’ before he eventually made his way to his spot on the porch.

She still wasn’t there, and he wondered if she would be coming at all. He hadn’t heard much of her the last year. She seemed to be just as under the radar as him.

And when he saw the blur of orange hair, his face immediately heating up. She exits her car, this time she's dressed in overalls, a cream sweater beneath it, her hair in a pony tail, and she’s carry a plate of fruit.

They make eye contact a few paces before the steps, and she visibly swallows as she climbs them, pausing next time him, in front of the door.

“Happy end game.” She says, a tight smile on her face.

He can only nod in the awkwardness of it all, and she enters the house. The music has already started, the sound of Clints’ cheering and Sams’ laughing echos in Buckys’ ears.

He takes a sip, then another, gazing out at the porch, the water, the old sail boat moving like a lonely captain.

The screen door creaks as she opens it, then slams back into place as she releases it. She stands on the opposite side of the door, mimics his stance as she leans and its quiet between them.

Her shoulders are tight; he can tell when he looks to his right at her. She seems to be lost in thought, and his staring goes unnoticed. She’s the most beautiful when she thinks she’s alone. It looks like her hairs been cut, the tendrils not as long as he remembered. Her eyes, the green emeralds, are bright, unfocused, arms crossed over her stomach. The rays from the porch light bounce off her cheeks and hair, and she's almost shining. Lips parted, he stares at them unabashedly, wishing he could kiss them again, part them, nip them.

He stares at her but it makes him realize he’ll never have her; not in the way he wants. He’ll never be good enough for her, and he’ll never get to prove that fact otherwise. Won’t ever be able to hold her, cherish her. Never love her.

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to stare?”

His cheeks heat instantly, turning his eyes away and clears his throat, trying to find something new to look at.

Everything else is black and white.

“I know my mother did.” She continued, picking at her sweater. He nods, takes a sip. Doesn’t trust himself enough to engage in conversation. “She taught me a lot.”

She pauses, flicking lint off her sweater. Bucky takes another sip.

“You could’ve fucked me last year and you didn’t. Why not?”

He chokes on the liquor. He coughs, his mind whirly of what the fuck he was supposed to say to that.

A small candle of hope lit inside him at the fact that she remembered what had happened at all, much less mentioned it. The night he had stepped away from the brightest thing he’d ever encountered. Her commentary also answered his unasked question; she had wanted to fuck him too.

“You were drunk.” He says, trying to keep his voice even.

“So?” She counters, her tone puzzled. “What's that got to do with anything? You were drinking too I believe.”

He had been, and he’s surprised again at the details she recalls.

“You would’ve blamed the alcohol, said it was a mistake.” He says though gritted teeth. “If I fuck you, I want you to know it, to 100% choose it. To know you wanted to do that, and that it was me who had you sounding like that.”

She hums, her gaze aimed at the sea, and he takes a sip again, hoping it’ll calm the rattle in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have blamed the alcohol,” she comments, her finger tapping her chin. “I wanted it.”

“Guess we’ll never know.” Bucky mummers into his glass, aiming to sound impassive, before setting it down on the railing. He proceeds to stare at it just to avoid her eyes. The porch shakes slightly as she walks over to him, stopping so that she’s barely an arms length away.

Her green eyes shine, a determination boiling beneath the surface. Slowly, she takes his hand, gently squeezing before placing it on her hip.

“Don’t you want to find out?” She asks, her voice meek, not sounding nearly as brave as she looks and Bucky is certain his brain short circuits.

She’s very beautiful, especially this close. He wonders if she knows that.

Wanda is kissing him before he can think of a response, her mouth sliding over his in a deliciously slow movement. It’s patient and hopeful, mixed with a little fear, and he’s never been so relieved. His hand moves up from her hip, encasing her ribs and she takes a step closer, their chests brushing. The movements electric, and he encircles her back, making her flush against him as her hand goes to his neck.

He’s dreamt about kissing her again, about her cherry lip balm. About feeling her pressed against him, making her shiver.

It’s like dancing. He used to love dancing during the 40’s, before the war, before he’d been mutilated. He’d enjoyed it, the ease of dancing with a pretty girl in a low lit bar, and now it felt as if their mouths were moving in time with a beat.

Cupping her face, he tilts it, nipping her lip, then licking it softly. She seems to like that, her hands on his jacket lapel, pulling him to her. Her tongue brushes his teeth, twisting, deepening the kiss and he groans against her.

The hand on her ribs moves to the middle of her lower back, holding her, and he’s gentle as he walks forward, her front still pressed to him, until she’s backed against the railing. He breaks the kiss just for a moment, and holds her eyes as he bends slightly, gripping below her knees, pushing her to sit on the railing. She obliges quickly, pulling him between her legs and he steps into her like she’s home.

One hand still below her knee, he pulls it up slightly, and she hums, kissing him as her arms wrap around his neck. He’s hard, straining, and the sounds she’s making causes him to stiffen even more, if that were possible. With his free hand he holds her neck, the pressure light as he peppers her mouth.

He can’t help but shift, and she scoots closer, pressing her clothed core into him and he nearly yelps.

“Wanda…”

She moves her torso, grinding lightly, and bites his bottom lip, holding it there between her teeth and pulls. Bucky groans low, his grip on her neck tightening.

He pulls away just barely, sucking in oxygen, and she moves to his neck, teeth scraping. Her kisses are hot, damp against his skin and he hopes there will be marks tomorrow.

Her hips rock into him, and his hand drops her knee, tangling in her hair. Biting down, he winces slightly, before she licks over the skin gently, pressing a kiss to the spot, then up until she meets his earlobe, taking it in her teeth.

Pulling her head back, she stares at his face. “Please.”

He could combust.

Tightening his grip on her hair, he yanks, and she gasps as his lips press to her jaw, one hand holding the side of her face.

It’s rougher, and obviously that's how she wants it, as she rocks herself against him again. Groaning against her throat, he pulls hard, and sucks at a spot just below her ear.

Her body tenses, fingers frozen and her legs lock around his hips. He grins against her skin.

Pulling back, he grabs her face in one hand, her cheeks squished slightly between his thumb and index finger. “You have a choice to walk away right now.”

She pouts, tries to grab him, but he keeps her still, eyebrows raised in questioning. “I don’t want to walk away.”

Her fingers seem to work again and she’s pulling at his jacket, attempting to push it off his shoulders, but his grip on her face is hard. She glares, then her eyes soften, and she opens her mouth, her tongue pressing flat against the skin of his hand.

His eyes widen, grip loosening, and she takes his hand in hers before sticking his finger in her mouth. Eyes trained on his, she sucks, her cheeks slightly hollowed, and he can feel her tongue flick against his knuckles.

His brain fries, skin alight, and he damn near pants. He doesn’t want to stop, but he needs to hear her say it, needs to make sure she verbally confirms she wants him.

“Use your words, little witch.” He mummers as he watches her assault his hands.

“I want you to fuck me so well I forget how to spell my name.”

The sound of her voice vibrates against his finger, and he pulls it from her mouth, a wet pop! sounding before he leans down.

She’s grinning, knowing exactly how well she’s affecting him, prideful that he’s aching because of her. Gripping her thighs, he picks her up, her legs fasting around his hips, and he begins to walk them off the porch, down to his bike.

She laughs, her hair bouncing as they step, and he loves the sound.

The ride is quick, Wanda attempting to palm him as they drive and he weakly swats her hands, the action far too distracting for him to be able to navigate while feeling that.

She kisses his neck and the back of his jacket when he parks, standing before the engine has even cooled, and he slaps her ass as he gets off the bike. She’s hungry, starving, pulling at his shirt as he closes the door, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, successfully this time, and yanks at the bottom of his shirt. He slides the overalls down her shoulders, pulling her to him on his couch.

The apartment is dark, but she slides into his lap with ease, nipping and licking at him. She’s panting as he lifts his shirt off, nails raking down his chest, and he sucks on her neck. She moans, shifting against him, and Bucky cannot believe his luck. She’s half dressed, wearing only her top and panties, the thin cloth allowing her heat to become more tangible.

She smells like honey, and he wants to devour her.

He isn’t sure when she undid his jeans. He stands, lifting her with him, and she moves his jeans down roughly with her feet, her mouth still searching for his, still hungry.

It’s clumsy and fumbling and he’s blissful, caring about nothing but the redhead in his lap.

He plops back down, and she blows his chest. He grunts, sliding his hands into her hair as Wanda feelings down his front. She pulls back, eyes blown.

“What are you waiting for, solider?” She smiles, a childish grin on her face. He nips at her lip, dropping a hand down and giving her hip a squeeze. “Where's the bedroom?” He goes to answer but she cuts him off. “Fuck it, fuck me right here.”

His brows raise high, and she laughs before kissing him again.

They kiss hurriedly, hearts racing, blood pumping in his ears as he grips the hem of her shirt. Her hands are up and it's over her head in an instant.

His mouth waters. She isn’t wearing a bra.

He nearly buries his face in her chest, licking the skin on the left as his hand palms the right. Her head arch back, eyes shut, and he twists her nipple. She hums, fingers gripping his shoulders and he gives a tentative lick. Her skin is smooth as he takes her into his mouth, hands wrapping around her waist.

“James James James.” She hums, and he’s shocked at his real name. It sounds official in her voice, reverent, and his cock strains against her. She must feel it, because her hips move, grinding into him and he bites gently.

She gasps, gripping his face and pulling him away from the glory that are her tits, kissing him hard.

He gulps her, wishing he could inhale her. Her cheeks and chest are pink, her eyes shining as she removes herself from his lap, pulling at his hands to stand with her. Her fingers are on the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down before he’s fully standing. She grips him and he’s instantly dizzy.

She’s on her tiptoes, pressing her mouth to his, tongue poking and prodding as her hand strokes him slowly. He’s aching, submissively opening his mouth to her, and she pours herself into him with every kiss.

He stutters, and she pushes him back against the couch softly, releasing her hold on him. His cock slaps against his stomach as he looks at her with lust covered eyes. She smiles, before she bends and her underwear is gone. He drinks in her naked form.

Nipples peaked from exposure, her breasts are creamy, with a faded scar just below her collarbone. Her ribs poke through her skin, hip bones jutting, and she’s smooth all over. She watches him look at her, and cups her sides.

“I know, I know,” she sighs, taking a step forward. “I should eat more.”

He reaches for her, and she melts into his hold, legs on opposite sides of his thighs. Balancing herself, she holds onto his shoulders, and he grips her behind the knees, hands tracing up her thighs, hips, caressing her breasts before settling on her hips again.

“Nah,” he whispers, and she holds his eyes as she takes him in her hand, aligning herself. “You're perfect.”

She pauses, looking down and then back at him.

Fear is drawn so perfectly on her face it could be a famous painting, like The Boreas.

”You — you shouldn't want this, not with me," Wanda says, voice tight, her grip loosing. “I’ll burn you.”

He can’t believe what he’s hearing. A literal angel, thinking she could stain him. Impossible.

Bucky grabs the hand that's gripping him, and interlaces their fingers, before bringing it to his mouth. He kisses her knuckles. “I’ve wanted you since that first time I saw you on that front porch.” Kisses her hand again, this time shutting his eyes. “Don’t go telling me I don’t want this, cuz I do.”

“What will our friends think?” She whispers, her voice impossibly low.

He kisses her hand again. “Fuck ‘em.”

She cups his face and pulls him to her. ”Stop overthinking," he whispers. She places a chaste kiss on his lips. “Don’t let a few maybes take you away from me.” Her eyes are wet, and he kisses the corner of her mouth. “Not when I’ve been waiting so long.”

She’s staring at him, still bracing herself above him before she bends down, aligns herself and slowly sinks. She’s smooth, warm, her eyes closing as he bites down on his cheek to keep from completely coming undone.

Rocking her hips slowly, Wanda lets out a breathy moan.

He’s officially died and gone to heaven.

Knees settled by his hips, she looks down to where they are joined, before glancing at him and grabs his hand. Lacing their fingers, she rocks again and this time he doesn’t hold back. His groan is deep, parched. Like a man dying of thirst.

He watches her move, hands light on her hips, traveling up her abdomen to cup her breasts, feel her skin. She’s warm, blissfully so, and when she raises up instead of rocking, he misses the contact.

She slides back down easily.

Leaning forward, she kisses him as she rocks, her hands in his hair, pulling, and he nips at her. He tugs her lip and she lets out another sweet song.

“Keep goin’” he praises, squeezing her hips. “s’perfect, you’re doing so well.”

She smiles at his words, he can feel it against his lips, and her hands leave his hair to scratch lightly down his chest.

He needs to go faster, wants to see how well she can take him when he’s the one directing, but he holds himself back. Right now, it’s about her. And she’s doing a damn fine job at it.

Bucky kisses her throat, and she clenches around him. He nearly comes right there, nearly forgetting what it had felt like to be inside a woman. He grips her hips tightly, almost certain she’ll be bruised.

“One sec, one sec,” he practically wheezes and she gives him a quizzical look before realizing what he meant. “You’re too fucking good.”

“Says you.” She laughs lightly, and nips his earlobe. She’s sweating, a light shine on her brow and her cheeks are rosy, hair sticking to the back of her neck.

Bucky grins, placing his hands back on her hips tightly and thrusts up into her. She gasps, her surprise so clear, and her lids flutter.

He does it again and again, his grip bruising, pace quick but timed, and Wanda arches as he moves under her. Her tits bouncing in his face, he reaches for one, licking the side.

“D-don’t stop,” she says, head tipping forward until her cheek is against his temple. Her hair falls into his face and he inhales deeply, reveling in it.

His core muscles are tense, hands rigid on her, lips sore. Happiest he’s ever felt.

The couch makes a bumping sound as it moves on the floor in time with his thrusts. The apartment smells like sex, and he thinks he should probably get a candle. Or better yet, leave the smell and get turned on every time he sits on his couch.

She moves her head back from his temple, smashing their mouths together. They’re a mix of teeth and spit and sweat. The kiss is messy, slightly sloppy, the type of kiss you have with someone special. It makes his insides flip.

Gripping her tightly, he stands, flipping them so that her back is laying on the couch and he hovers above her. His dog tag comes into view, hanging between them. He completely forgot he had it on.

“Why two?” She questioned, nodding at it. He sinks into her, and she moans, gripping his bicep.

“One’s mine,” he grunts, thrusting again. “The others is Steve’s.” He moves again, and she mewls, legs wrapped around his hips.

“O-oh?” The word comes out more of a question, and Bucky grins, sinking in again. Her eyes roll back.

He jackhammers himself into her, the pace maddening, the grip deathly, and she takes it all. His core burns, right arm aching, but he doesn’t quit. Not when she’s looking so lovely like that. She flutters around him, biting the inside of her cheek, and he nearly comes himself when he realizes she’s close. Her mouth opens, and then shuts, her eyes blown. He slows slightly, easing his grip, and she grabs his dog tags, yanking his face close.

“Don’t fucking stop,” she sighs, her breath fanning across from him. Her eyes go wide. “Please don’t.”

He can feel a bit of his old 40’s playboy-self peek out, his ladies-man charm spiking at the fact that she was pleading with him to let her come.

He was, in fact, a gentleman. And a man makes such a lady always comes first.

He kisses her gently, her mouth opening to him, before slamming into her. She all but screams.

The pace is punishing. His head falls next to her jaw, and he kisses the junction between her neck and shoulder as he moves, hips snapping.

She’s humming against him, saying something low and he strains to hear.

More, more, please more.

She flutters, clenching him, and he’s aching, his sides burning. Reaching down, his thumb finds her most delicate area. Her legs jerk, and she locks around his hips, eyes screwed tight.

He wants to tease her, wants to draw it out longer but hadn’t she asked so politely? He presses his thumb against her, and her mouth opens, lips slick with spit.

She looks blissful as she unravels.

“Look at you,” he mummers as her breathing returns. His head drops to her shoulder. He’s grunting into her neck, his own release rapidly approaching. “So good for me.”

“Yes, look at me.” She says, and he leans up from her neck, eyes taking in her face. He comes almost immediately.

Bucky collapses, his arms exhausted from an activity its not used to, and Wanda wraps her arms around his shoulders, hugging him. He slides out of her gently, his cock empty and satisfied. By the look on her face, so is she. He pulls her hand so that she’s sitting up, and they lay against the back of the couch, chests heaving, catching their breath.

“Could've had that last year.” She says when she finally catches her breath. He gives her a raised brow before chuckling.

“Was worth the wait.”

She bites her lip, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, it was.”

He shows her where the bathroom is, gives her a towel to clean off. Ten minutes later she calls his name, pulling him in with her and he fucks her against the tile wall.

[sufficientlylargen]

Flamin' Fireball

★★★★⯨ - 6 reviews, 4.3 average Jump to recipe

Deliciously smoky and sure to annihilate your foes, these fireballs are a family favorite! Very easy, and with a nice bite!

Now I know everybody has their own "best" fireball recipe, and some people have strong opinions about what a fireball should be. But I like to think outside the box. You see, when I was only eight years of age, back in the Silver Foothills, my fathers often had to be away all day for business and so I was left to my own devices. I would spend hours roaming the hills, inspecting the plant life and learning the behaviors of the animals. There was an old woman who lived up the hill a bit, a gnoll named Krignor, and she cooked the most delicious stroopwafel stew I have ever had - hearty, sweet, with just a hint of coffee - and I often would...

[twelve pages later]

And to this day, I can't roast a displacer beast without thinking about that tower and the stew that saved our lives.

Flamin' Fireball

Roll 1 pinch Bat Guano and 1 pinch Sulfur into a ball.

Throw.

Tagged with: #Fire, #Balls, #Spells, #Guano, #Bats, #Sulfur, #Thrown,#Evocation, #Jellyfish, #Gnolls, #Kobolds, #Stroopwafel, #Silver Foothills, #Childhood, #Leviathans, #Card Magic, #The Ethereal Plane, #Dugongs, #Generator Safety, #Minnesota, #Stew, #Displacer Beasts, #Ice, #Wonder, #Charms, #Krignor, #Stick-Elf, #Gnoll cooking (recipes), #Gnoll cooking (ingredient), #Cannibalism, #Underwater Basket Weaving, #Water, #Underwater, #Basket Weaving, #Baskets, #Weaving, # SecondMinnesota, #Underwater Baskets, #German Revolution of 1918, #Underwater Weaving, #Hugo Weaving, #Fireballs, #2003 Pontiac Aztec, #Spellcraft, #Space,

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Ancient wizard spell tome but like the recipe blogs that start with a ridiculously long personal anecdote

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〈lucas lynggaard tønnesen/  cis male  /he/him〉well, well, well..if it isn’t ENIGMA—oh, i mean OSCAR OLSEN.their vibe is unmistakable:NOISE CANCELLING HEADPHONES, FIDGETING WITH RUBIK’S CUBES,THE SOUND OF A KEYBOARD KEYS AT 3 AM, WORKING TILL YOU LOSE TRACK OF TIME.they finally turned up at the penthouse, though i suppose you can’t keep a TWENTY TWO-year-old locked away all day.you know… i heard that they’re AWKWARD & NAIVE.i don’t know how the dove syndicate puts up with them,to be honest.maybe it’s because they’re said to be INTELLIGENT & PASSIONATE?at least,that’s what i heard.i suppose if everyone else finds them tolerable,it’s none of my business.i heard their role in the syndicate is THE HERMIT. i wonder how they ended up there anyway,since they’re from COPENHAGEN…oh well, it’s none of my business,but i hope they aren’t injured during the next heist.

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