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leaderwonim · 1 year ago

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I HATE (LOVE) YOU.

part one | part two | part four

pairing. situationship!nishimura riki x fem!reader

summary. nishimura riki despised love, so why the hell was his heart beating so fast around you?

If anyone were to ask Nishimura Riki what he thought of love, he’d say it was pointless and quite frankly — a joke.

Nishimura Riki did not believe in love. He didn’t believe in going on multiple silly little dates just to maybe, maybe ask out the person for them to maybe say yes.

He hated the concept of dating. He hated the concept of love.

“What’re you thinking about?” Sim Jaeyun, one of Riki’s closest and really only friend, swung his arms over the much taller boy. “How to take over the world and rule with an iron fist?”

Riki scoffs at that, flicking Jaeyun in the head. “No. But if I were to take over the world, I’d kill you first.”

Jaeyun pretends he’s offended by bringing a hand over his chest, leaning forward to make it more believable that Riki’s words truly hurt his heart.

“How could you say that? I’m your only friend!”

You watch from the distance, watching Riki’s eyes crinkle from both annoyance and amusement, watching as his hands come to each side of Jaeyun’s body, tickling the older boy with no mercy.

It’s in moments like this that you realize Nishimura Riki is just a teenage boy, and that maybe a teenage boy wasn’t the love of your life after all.

“What are you thinking about?” It was Asakura Jo’s voice that snapped you out of your thought. “Math equations, I hope. Your SATs are soon.”

“Shut up.” You shriek, swatting Jo’s face away from yours.

“I’ll never see what you see in him,” he snickers. “But young love, right?”

“Jo, you are one year older than us. One.” You roll your eyes.

“That’s one more year of love experience than you have.” Jo shrugs his shoulders. “Whatever though, your boyfriend looks mad, I’m gonna go.”

Before you can deny that Riki was your boyfriend, Jo’s already leaving, engaged in a new conversation with Kyomi.

“What was that?” A glaring Nishimura Riki already makes you feel annoyed. He could be an asshole when he was in a mood.

“I was talking to Jo. You know, my SAT tutor.”

“Yeah yeah,” Riki waves your words off. “I still don’t know why your mom hired him. I’m so much better.”

“Riki, I love you but you’re terrible at math and English.” You say.

“Oh, you love me?” He teases you by softly nudging you with his side. “L/N Y/N loves me.”

“Yah Nishimura, I will kill you.”

He scoffs, pretending to surrender. “I’m sorry, forgive me your highness.”

You roll your eyes at his sarcasm, linking your arms with his as you two make way to the vending machines.

“You gotta stop doing that.” Riki says, although his tone doesn’t sound like he’s serious at all. “People might think we’re dating if you link arms with me.”

“Oh really?” You put in a few coins, pressing number 36, which was a snickers ice cream bar. “Yah Riki! Give that back!”

It’s too late though — Riki’s already taken a bite out of your ice cream, almost choking on it when you smack his shoulder.

“Okay sorry!” He laughs, a noise that you’ve grown to love despite your love and hate relationship towards the Japanese boy. “Here, I only took a small bite.”

Your eyes widen when he shoves the bar towards your mouth, waiting for you to open so he could feed you.

“This is gross.” Jaeyun, Kiyomi, and Jo all watch from a distance, shaking their heads at one another. “Not a couple my ass.”

As soon as Riki and you are done with school for the day, his instincts instantly go for your school bag, swinging it over his shoulder despite how heavy it was.

“Yah,” he says, fingers coming down to mess with your ponytail. “This bag is so heavy, no wonder you’re so short.”

Your cheeks puff out and you make a halt, which almost has Nishimura Riki tumbling over you since he hovered above you.

“You’re crazy!” You say, pushing him backwards. “I don’t know how your sisters deal with you everyday.”

“They love me.” He defends himself.

He drops you off at your house, bidding a quick goodbye to your grandmother before dashing back to his house.

“Geez, did you run a marathon or something?” Riki’s older sister says, giving a look of disgust towards her brother.

“No.” He places one of his hands against his chest, eyes widening when he realizes how much his heart is beating. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like what?” His sister is super annoyed now, feet tapping against the floor tiles.

“This feeling.” Riki’s mouth goes dry, and his first thought is that he needs water. He really really needs water.

His long legs march themselves to the kitchen, flimsy arms clumsily reaching for a cup.

“Seriously, you’re acting weirder than usual.” His sister says from the living room.

“Mind your own business!”

Nishimura Riki was screwed. He was sure of it. Although he swore that he’d never get serious with you, he feels the butterflies in his stomach and his heart beating irregularly. He’s so screwed.

He thought that pushing you away the week before would be a good idea. When you had asked the stupid question of were you and Riki soulmates in another universe, he felt speechless.

He didn’t believe in soulmates, much less another universe.

No. He had replied with. We aren’t even soulmates in this one.

He knew he was an asshole, and it was an asshole move on his part. But he couldn’t help it, there was no way Nishimura Riki would let love tie him down. There was no way. He simply refused.

“I hate her.” Riki grumbles the next morning as he’s eating breakfast with Jaeyun.

“You hate Y/N?” Jaeyun tries to stop himself from laughing — because it’s ridiculous, really. He knew his best friend by heart, if anything, Riki was inlove with you.

“I hate Y/N, I hate the way she laughs, I hate the way I can easily tower over her, I hated her stupid haircut from last month. I hate her.”

Jaeyun thinks it’s pathetic that Riki is trying so hard to convince himself it’s not love he’s feeling, but hate. Clearly the Japanese boy had issues.

“I heard Jo’s gonna ask her out.” Jaeyun’s mouth moves quicker than he can stop it.

“What?”

Before Jaeyun could say anything else, Riki’s already leaving in a panic, his priority was finding you.

“Hey!” He yells as he spots your figure heading into the school. He grabs you by your arms effortlessly, your surprised yelp only adding to the list of what Riki claims he “hates”.

“Is it true?”

“What is?” You say exasperated, arms crossed over your chest. “Why do you always ask me the broadest questions Nishimura?”

“Is Jo gonna ask you out?”

You automatically choke on your spit, not expecting such a ridiculous question. “What?!”

You let out a giggle, which doesn’t help Riki who’s already flushing with red.

“No! What the hell!” You say, looking directly into the boy’s eyes. “He’s my tutor for God sakes! I’ve told you like a billion times.”

“Oh.” Riki bites the inside of his cheek, now aware that Jaeyun had lied straight from his mouth.

“Why?” You get closer to Riki, your head almost bumping into his chest. “It wouldn’t be a problem if he asked me, would it?”

“It would!” Riki clasps his hands over his mouth, already realizing he’s said too much.

You smirk at his unsuccessful attempt to try and conceal his emotions because despite the nonchalant persona Nishimura Riki so desperately tries to keep up, you can see right through it.

“Oh would it?” You tease. “Why?”

“Because..” Riki pauses, biting his lip as he tries to think of what to say. “Because I don’t want you to go out with him.”

“I think Jo and I make a great couple, don’t you?”

Riki rolls his eyes, both hands coming down to grip your shoulders. “No.”

“Why not?”

You keep pushing the boy because you know sooner or later he’ll break. He wasn’t very good at containing his obvious jealously.

“Because you’ll look better with me!”

Ah, there it was. Nishimura Riki has finally broke.

“Hmm,” you say, lips curving into a teasing smile as you watch Riki’s face turn bright red in embarrassment. “Don’t worry Nishimura, it’s you I like, not him.”

Riki doesn’t let you say anything else before he connects his lips with yours. He ignores the blaring alarms in his head telling him that it was stupid to fall inlove, because he had already fallen too deeply with you.

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chaaistained · 8 days ago

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☕︎ my better cr; intro •°

🗝️ you’ve unlocked the recipe to my better cr ≈

name : ℳ

age (when i shift) : 17/18 — i’m planning to either shift to dec 2021 or aug 2022 , wtv my subconscious chooses

occupation : university student — double degree in law and arts, majoring in media law and craft of writing & literature, respectively

+ part time tutor for english and maths, at the same private tutoring company i went to in high school

+ (eventually) part time stock acquisition and youth advertiser at a telecommunications company near my campus which is technically a nepo hire bcs my aunt works there

+ (eventually) paid internship at the australian taxation office for the study of torts and contracts and even tho i got in genuinely bcs of my marks and my interview it also feels a little nepo bcs another aunt (a family friend) also works here.. anyway

side hobbies/hustles : blogger (tumblrina in every reality if i can help it) , tiktok + youtube cover channel with two of my high school friends , fic author (ao3 curse does NOT exist here come at me) , occasional columnist for my uni’s student newsletter

my s/o : childhood family friend — lost contact and reunited ten years later — not revealing his name apart from the first letter bcs . he’s real .. anyway it’s 𝒜

౨ৎ meet ℳ

a sun kissed cinnamon bun personified — she is the smile that blossoms between warm cheeks during the burn of a sunrise ≈

in this dr i don’t change my name, and for that reason i’ll stick to the first letter (just like my pinned post) which is ℳ.

i’m nothing more than a normal girl, waking up each day already tired but willing myself to either go to uni or work, staying up late to catch up on the hours i spend doing other things, i have a closet full of clothes and yet i have nothing to wear, i have three of the same shades of lip gloss but they’re all from different brands so ofcs they’re not the same, i just bought a new journal but i’m yet to finish the one i got four years ago, i have ink stains on the tips of my fingers and chai stains on the pages edge of the novel i’m currently reading.

i just take every day like a new pot of tea leaves, waiting to be steeped to perfection.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

౨ৎ the metamorphosis

with frayed edges and tear stained cheeks, she undid the binds of a life once lived, a life once loved, finding the holes to be too much to bear in the everlasting winter of the cold reality that was thrust upon her, opting to take the needle and thread between her own fingers and stitch up the seams, to reinforce the realm of her existence into one that can hold her hand rather than hold her down

quite often i approach the concept of reinvention with a quivering hand, unable to part ways from the comfort — or perhaps the codependency — of that familiarity.

but eventually i took a step back and realised, there is no shame in finding freedom in what already feels right . after all, our souls are not dependant on this realm or this body, our consciousness is an ever expanding universe on its own, and our power to wield it is something that we have grown to understand and control in a way that allows us to live the lives we truly desire.. that’s all that this dr represents for me.

a life that i truly desire.

i’m not that different here, i have the same name, the same birthday, the same family. but it would be a lie to say everything stays the same.

i do admit to changing my appearance a bit, i’m nothing if not a perfectionist and whilst i do think my features have potential, i actually reach said potential in this reality. my upbringing has been revitalised to be something that enriched me rather than keeping me sheltered. my parental unit is less overbearing and more understanding, my brother is less of a jerk and more of a friend, my family relationships are less immature and more genuine.

i revise my failures in education, i revise my anxieties around success and the fear of that success being unreachable, i revise my health, my athleticism, my willpower and the general energy i have throughout the day to achieve everything that i wish to accomplish, everything that i could not bring myself to take a step towards in my previous reality.

my passions aren’t shamed here, they are encouraged. not just with the wary caution of a simple hobby but rather as an actual proper lifestyle, a feasible choice to make for a career, a skill that is supported as something from which i can make a name for myself.

and in this growth, in this metamorphosis, i find stability and comfort in not just my family but also my friends — people that i lost contact with, people that i drifted away from, people that i couldn’t bring myself to keep close because of the shame in my own progression or lack thereof — i’m not an aspect of shame, i never was, i know what i deserve and what i’m capable of and in this reality, i am all those things.

that’s why this is home, even after i break out of the cocoon and open my eyes in a world that’s familiar, it will also be different, because i’ll be different — no longer experiencing the slow sluggish state of what once was, for i now have a marvellous symmetry of splendour that holds me high, the equilibrium of my reality, where the scales finally tipped in my favour, levelling out to be amiably sound, with every flap of a butterfly’s wing.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

౨ৎ sugar heart cookies

it’s an inexplicable pull, an intangible tug on the heartstrings, a firm grip, a gentle ache, a deep longing. you can’t help but feel that there is something more out there for you, that there is someone more. someone that feels less like a piece and more like a whole person. someone who won’t complete you, but will help you complete yourself. two halves of a heart leaves you vulnerable when you’re apart, but when it’s two hearts beating alongside each other, the only thing left is to hold onto you

he sat beside me in his mother’s car. we were six (me) and eight (him). he sat in the drivers seat while his mother went inside the house to pick up a few things before taking the three of us (his little sister sat in the back) to a gathering of family friends.

his mother had bought us britannia little hearts. i can still remember the minuscule sugar crystals stuck to the tips of my small fingers while i dove inside the aluminium cover every few seconds to reach for the next tiny biscuit.

he asked me where i was that day — i’d stayed home from school because i felt unwell — when i told him, his first reaction was to nag me : “you know, if you’re sick, you shouldn’t be eating these. this is pure sugar.”

“yeah but i don’t want to listen to you!” — i was .. never really good at listening to people, especially not cute boys who were a little older than me.

he always seemed a bit uptight, but i guess i forgot how much he cared. because i can’t remember what happened two years later, during my last day in my old school. i remember crying, and i remember being comforted by people. but i guess i forgot that one of those people was him. i guess i forgot that he told me “it’ll be alright. i’m sure we’ll see each other again someday.”

it took us ten years but we got there.

this time, he was upstairs, in the house that was hosting a dinner among friends. i was distracted by my brother’s antics, one foot inside the threshold past the door and one foot on the pavement outside. with a flick of my head, my gaze turned up, up past the stairs in front of the door, up to the railing on the second level, a lookout point for the entrance.

he was leaning against the railing, blue button up shirt tucked into his black jeans, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, taking a quick glance to his side before doing a double take.

the silence felt like the calm before a pattering evening of rainfall, where you can feel the change in your future from the way the air seems electrified, from the way the clouds seems to churn around each other, like they’re brewing together, ready to erupt and explode into thunder, like the way you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

he seemed familiar, he seemed important, he seemed to be everything i could ever ask for and i didn’t know why the sirens were singing in my skull but i knew in my gut he was meant to be important to me. i knew he was meant to be somebody.

it took me a second to look away, but that entire night, and every night that followed, and every day that came along with it, i can’t ever forget the sugar crystal glimmers of light in his eyes. and for every moment to come, i’ll hold the little heart biscuits of our love in the palm of my hands, because i’m not someone who listens to people very well, i don’t care if i’m not allowed, i want them . i want him.

don’t swallow the tea leaves ! for they leave you a message 🍂

this dr is very near and dear to my heart and i can’t even begin to put everything i wanna say about it into one post so .. there will be more abt this dr

it’s literally home. it’s my life.

i’m so grateful for it xx

chaai brews; tea assortments — dr archive

2025 © chaaistained

#by chaaistained #chaai for : 𝒜 ৻ꪆ #chaai channels ; ℳ༄#dividers from: saradika-graphics & issysh3ll #pngs by me !!#better cr #better cr dr #reality shifting #reality shifter #manifestation #permashifting #permashift #permashifter #dr intro #better cr intro

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octuscle · 11 months ago

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From tutor to rookie of the year

Hi, my name is Jake. My company has hired me to tutor a few students with poor grades. That's not necessarily the reason why I started working at the auditing company. But first of all, I'm new here and I'm not going to refuse right at the beginning of my career. And secondly, becoming a teacher had actually been an option for me. Maybe it's fate now or something.

The first lesson gets off to a very promising start. I almost have to tear myself apart to leave your office and get to school on time. But when I arrive, there is a yawning emptiness in the classroom. Only after fifteen minutes I hear noise in the corridor and a couple of football jocks barge in the door. A few still in football gear. And all obviously unshowered after training. Phew, it stinks. And as I look into the handsome, square-cut faces of the boys spraying with testosterone, I'm suddenly back at school. The small, clever but shy boy who, at best, the stars of the football team overlook and, at worst, stuff into the toilet. I clear my throat and say that I'm not here for fun either and that I'm asking for some attention. The boys barely react. Damn it, it's not my problem. I explain a few linear algebra problems on the blackboard and ignore the paper airplanes. I have my school-leaving certificate. I have my master's degree. And my bonus doesn't depend on the grades of these idiots. At least I hope so.

After the debacle of the first tutoring session, my appetite for the second is very dampened. But it was already hard enough to get this internship. The firm is one of the most prestigious accountancy firms in the city. And if my pro bono job as an intern is tutoring the idiots on the football team twice a week, I'll survive. Apart from the 60 hours a week in which I have to pore over balance sheets, that doesn't matter any more.

These days, the musclemen are even on time. And somehow nicer than last time. They even ask me reasonably sensible questions like whether you can predict the trajectories of footballs. I take this as an opportunity to tell them something about vector calculus. They collapse with laughter. "Bro, I was joking. And football isn't math. Football is strength and speed." I'm about to take a breath and say something about Newton and the relationship between force and speed. But instead of listening to me, the jocks start bragging to each other about their heroic stories on the field. And I can't help but listen to them spellbound. When the lesson is over, I look after them with fascination. I wish I could have been more like them at school.

Shit, because I'm the only nerd on the senior team who isn't a complete failure at sports, Coach made me give math tutoring to the football team. He thinks the Meatheads might have a little bit of respect for me. Shit! Them for me? I for them might be more correct! The thought of explaining math to my secret crush forms a wet spot in my Calvin Klein shorts.

I expected the boys to keep me waiting. If they were also punctual and disciplined off the pitch, they wouldn't need any help. And I don't want to tutor them any more than they want to be tutored. We reach a compromise. You listen to my math tutoring for half an hour. And then we'll go out onto the pitch for half an hour and play a bit of football. God knows I'm not unsportsmanlike. But soccer has somehow never been my sport. I'm more of a swimming pool or gym kind of guy. Team sports? Not really.

Shit, yeah, I'm no rocket scientist in math. But I have quite good grades in English and history. I'm not going to fail this year. Why the fuck do I have to go to tutoring with the other bros from the football team? I have no idea. But seriously, the tutor is a total loser. A beanpole in a stuffy shirt. The idiot even wears a tie. Seriously, who wears a tie these days? If I had to wear a tie, I'd change jobs. Or if I had to shower after training. Shit, these are just rules that can come from old fat men. Bros like me and my bros smell like test… Testo… Well that hormone stuff. Sweat, musk and Axe. If I didn't have to go straight to detention again, I'd let the loser smell my armpits… But I'm a sophomore on the team right now. Let the juniors and seniors do that.

"Jack, bro!" This is Chuck. The QB on the team. I can tell by his voice. And by his smell. And I'd also know it by the taste of his cheesy boner…. But he stays locked in his jockstrap cage right now. What a damn shame! "Bro, where were you in tutoring? The dean was there. You're in fucking trouble!" Shit, tutoring! I was at the gym. The other guys are all so pumped. I don't want to lag behind any longer. "Shit, dude, we said you were in the bathroom. The loser tutor didn't dare contradict us. But I think you have to let him suck you off so he doesn't tell on you." Hehehehehe, I like that idea. There are still 40 minutes until football practice… And I haven't cum yet today. "Is the loser still in the classroom?" I ask. Chuck nods. I fist bump him and say that I'll sort it out quickly.

If Chuck and Matt go to college next year, I have a good chance to be the QB. But until then I still have to build up a lot of mass. Those two are just in a whole different league. And I'm damn jealous of the hair on Matt's chest. You should see the bush under his arms. Dude, the man is going to be a fucking gorilla! Shit, I'm not half the man those two are. You can tell immediately by the size of the bulge in our compression shorts. Nevertheless, neither of them mind if I fuck them. But they like fucking me even more. Without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

We skipped tutoring again today. Coch covers for us while we're in the gym or doing our laps on the cinder track outside. Nevertheless, it's still up in the air whether Chuck and Matt will be at college next year. And whether I'll be a junior by then. But screw it, NFL pros don't need to know math.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #age reduction #jock tf #nerd to jock #football jock #ai image

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kquil · 11 months ago

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DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER TWO

02 : SHOPPING (1/2)

CHPT. SUM. : life isn't easy in the Black Family household, you need to get out, you also need a new wand. Sirius does too as well as a few other things; time to go shopping.

LENGTH : 5.8k

TAGS. : hurt/comfort ; tantrums ; fluff ; sirius needs a hug ; regulus needs a hug ; original walburga can eat shit ; orion can eat shit too ; reader being an amazing mother ; walburga deserves to get bullied ; floo powder travels ; diagon alley shopping time~ ; stupid wands ; arson ; goblin OC ; sirius being a sneaky baby ; regulus follows in his older brother's footsteps ; misbehaving things ; Ollivander cameo~ ; please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes for now, this wasn't really proofread (╥﹏╥) i'll go back over things later on!

← PREV. | 01 : ARRIVAL | SERIES M.LIST

7th August 1971

It didn’t take you long to uncover the upsetting affairs of the ever proud Black Family.

There was nothing to be proud of. It sickened you to witness the blatant disdain Orion had for his own two sons, neglecting them by leaving for work early and returning only to lock himself up in his home office. The bastard even overlooked his sons when he was present at home on the weekends and the few words he spoke when addressing them dripped with cruelty and ignorance. The only positive thing you could take from his absence, however, is the fact that the boys didn’t have to tolerate his silent callousness for long periods of time.

But that meant seeing the effects of Walburga’s despicable conditioning of the two boys, which was far worse.

It was clear that Regulus wanted to be favoured and compiled to his mother’s whims, desperately seeking her approval. Whenever his small, pale hands reached out for you, no matter how miniscule, you accepted with open arms and a warm smile. His precious look of surprise, and shy happiness at your unexpected acceptance, never failed to make your heart shatter, even more so that his reaction never seemed to let up.

Before every apology, before every small request, before every word he breathed in your direction, there was an evident hesitance, a slight fear in his motions that made him freeze up for a moment. It was a consistent action that you hoped, with time, would disappear for good. You love having Regulus for your son but you don’t want him to do things just because you said so. In your previous life and before your dreams were shattered, the one thing you looked forward to about having children was the development of their own personality, the becoming of their own individual person. That’s what you want for Regulus, and Sirius too. But you know that Regulus was the main son who was deprived of that pleasure in the original timeline so you wanted to give him that extra bit of care. It was your responsibility, now, to give him that happiness.

Sirius was the same. He wanted approval too, you could see it so very clearly in his piercing grey eyes – it’s an innocence he shares with his younger brother. There’s a glimmer of hope in his grey pools, hidden behind the need to protect Regulus and the mix of anger and sadness fostered by the horrendous parents he had the ill-fate of having. You want to bring down those walls but you know it’ll take some time. Nevertheless, you clung onto the hope present in his eyes and used it to cultivate your firm resolution, like a garden to the foundation of a new life and a new future. It was needed, especially when Sirius lashed out, his fury, dangerously ablaze like a forest fire set on destroying everything in its wake.

It was no secret that the original Walburga expected nothing but excellence from her only two sons, so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that she had hired private tutors for them leading up to their official education in Hogwarts. They were to study French, Etiquette, Literature, Cursive/Calligraphy, Maths and all of the wizarding basics. All taught by private tutors that delivered material like stale bread on a plate and leaving them with the terribly tedious assignments in the most ridiculous amounts. You understood why Sirius worked himself up to such a tantrum. However, he was not setting a good example for his younger brother, who clung onto the long flowing skirt of your black dress and pressed himself against your legs for comfort.

Tenderly, you combed your fingers through Regulus’ neatly permed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp while the two of you waited for Sirius to lose energy and simmer down enough for you to finally get a word in. It only took a few minutes but Sirius was soon left heavily panting, his expulsion of rage gone but still evident in his harsh glare and aggressive stance.

Silence took over the room as you continued to hold his gaze, determined to handle the situation calmly but firmly and without any interruptions – you hope to God that your amateur imperturbable charm worked on the door of the room; it was the weekend, meaning that Orion was at home and he wouldn’t take too kindly to his equally hateful wife being screamed at by his disobedient son.

“...it’s not fair…” Sirius grumbles under his breath, pouting defiantly as his small hands ball up into clenched fists by his sides.

“I know it’s not fair, Sirius,”

“Then—!” Sirius cuts himself off when you raise a brow at him, your mouth pressed into a tight, thin line.

Some part of you understands why Sirius would lash out so aggressively; he was practically drowning under the workload he was set by his individual tutors, drowning under the expectations the original Walburga had set on him and he didn’t know how to express his frustrations. Along the way, you’re sure he’s bottled up his emotions and tried to get on with things, evident by the littered chaos of papers at his feet, marked by his neat handwriting. Such beautiful handwriting for such a young and troubled boy. With his deadline fast approaching and his assignments piled up to his ears, Sirius lashed out in the violent and wrathful way he’s been exposed to since birth. You want to be soft and comply with his demands but you know that’ll foster bad habits in him. Conceding now will only teach him that it’s okay to become violent when he’s frustrated and that it’ll work to help him get what he wants. But that is a false reality. And you will not perpetuate the illusion for him.

He’s your son now, he’s your responsibility and you’re going to teach him well. So you stand firm but composed. You’re setting an example. It isn’t until you sense the fear of what may happen slowly seeping into Sirius’ much smaller frame, that you step forward and take action.

In your slow approach, Sirius flinches and snaps his eyes tightly shut. His clenched fists slowly come up to shield his chest as his shoulders tense despite the visible shiver that runs up his frame.

A small voice calls out behind you, “Mother–”

“Regulus, this is between me and your brother. Please don’t interfere,” Regulus bites his lip into silence but watches on with fearful eyes. He wants to step in and hold his brother close, the same way Sirius has done to help comfort him many times before but, no matter how strong his will, Regulus didn’t move. Why? Was it the fear or… was it something else?

Once close enough, you kneel down and gently grasp Sirius’ small shoulders. You try not to wince when he falters from your touch and tries to withdraw but your grip keeps him securely in place. Inhaling deeply and slowly, you begin to speak in a stable voice and with strength. It’s best to start from the beginning.

“Sirius…” you wait until he meets your eyes, hesitant and afraid but stubbornly brave, “what’s wrong?” he sends you a look of exasperation, you can read him easily ‘why are you asking him that when he’s been screaming at you about it?’, “I will not listen or engage in any conversation with you if you ever speak to me that way,” you set the boundary and pause to make sure he processes your words clearly before continuing, “I will only listen if you talk to me like a normal person, if you just scream at me like that then I can’t help you,”

Sirius wants to scoff at your words; how could he possibly trust you to help him if you’ve never been worthy of his trust? But he glimpses the image of his worried, younger brother over your shoulder and bites down on his sharp tongue. Regulus has grown a small but reluctant trust for you ever since the day you fainted. It was naive of him but Sirius could never fault his younger brother for anything. He’s always been the one with the softer heart between them so it was natural for Regulus to be more trusting. Deep down, Sirius wants to have that same level of give within him too.

But it was hard. It’s hard to trust…

…that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, however. One prolonged look at his brother was all he needed to have the courage to put that trust forward.

“It’s unfair,” he repeats, clearly this time.

“What’s not fair?” you prompt, your features softening along with your tone as Sirius wills himself to continue. You haven’t lashed out at him yet, you haven’t even threatened to launch a curse at him, that was a good sign.

“All this work…” he gestures to the scattered papers he had thrown to the floor in defiance. Now, he looks towards them in shame and quickly diverts his gaze from the mess.

“I see,” you hum as he looks onto you with eyes of wonderment, unable to comprehend that you were taking in his complaint so graciously – he isn’t used to this type of gentleness but he likes it… “I’m sorry you’re under so much pressure to do this much work,” Sirius holds his breath as hope builds up within him, its light is radiant but he tries to ignore it, “I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you–”

“––I tried to do well!” Sirius defends, his eyes desperately searching your own for some form of understanding. It was your warm smile that eased his panicked heart… in some sense, he’s beginning to understand his younger brother; his mother looks far prettier when she’s smiling.

“I know,” you cup his face with one hand and lovingly caress the skin of his cheek with your thumb, “you’ve worked so hard. Thank you for trying, Sirius,” you watch tears pool at his eyes and coo comfortingly as you bring him into your arms and tuck his face into your shoulder, “I’m so sorry, my darling. I promise to talk to your tutors about the workload,” your gentle assurance and unfaltering promise eases his worries and Sirius allows himself to melt into your embrace. You’ve never called him that before. And never in such a loving or warm tone. It makes his heart feel lighter and his breath stutters in disbelief.

Can he keep you like this? He wants you to be like this forever.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stays wrapped up in your kind embrace but he’s brought back to his senses when he hears shuffling and quickly feels his younger brother being brought into the hug too. Lighthearted and optimistic about the world’s goodness, Sirius brings an arm around his brother, who reciprocates his actions, and the three of you stay there, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort. This is nice.

“Regulus,” Sirius feels his brother stiffen up beside him, but only for a moment, it almost goes unnoticed before Regulus tucks himself further into your arms, “I’m sorry for the burden of work on you too,”

“I-It’s okay, mother,” alas, his younger brother is too forgiving but Sirius knows it’s a trait that he loves his brother for.

“Do you like the amount of work you’re doing?” you question, doing your best to keep your tone neutral and only slightly peaking in curiosity.

Regulus pauses for a moment, contemplating his answer, “I wouldn’t mind less work…”

His answer makes you laugh, the sound feathery and light, it makes the two brothers stare at each other in wide-eyed disbelief. They’ve never heard their mother laugh before. It was obscure and strange but a pleasant sound, something that they want to hear more often from you.

“Then it’s settled, I’ll be having a word with your tutors,” the two boys release a sigh of relief and you feel Sirius melt a little more into your arms, “so you can leave your work alone for next week entirely,” their shock doesn’t go unnoticed but you continue, “I’m so proud of both of you for working so hard,” you didn’t want to rush things but you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly and gently and with all the love you could muster, you lean forward and press a kiss to Sirius’ forehead and then do the same to Regulus.

They were stunned into silence as a pink hue rose to their cheeks, their wide, unbelieving eyes staring up at you in the most precious way. They look so adorable; you want to capture this image of them in a photo to keep forever. You can practically hear their racing hearts trying to beat out of their chests as their eyes swim with a child-like astonishment and wonder. They’re just two precious little boys who deserved better than the miserable, tragic fate J.K fucking Rowling wrote for them. And you were going to stop at nothing to make sure their futures were happy.

Warm with happiness, your soft smile remains as you gently usher the two into the living room to settle down and relax for the evening. However, the little bubble of merriment you had cultivated with the two boys was promptly ruptured by the sour, disgruntled face you happened upon as soon as you opened the door.

Tucking the boys’ suddenly tense frames into the folds of your skirt, you address the intruder, “Orion–”

“What was all that racket?” he demanded, his voice booming and frightening enough for Regulus to begin shaking faintly against you. It made anger spike in your chest but, thankfully, Sirius was there to reach out and immediately begin comforting his younger brother. You made sure to keep the boys out of Orion’s gaze but it was no use, “Sirius! I know it was you! HOW DARE—!”

“We’ve already settled the issue so there’s no need to talk about it further!” you interrupt through clenched teeth, chest puffed out angrily as you hold the boys’ tense but trembling figures into your legs, hoping to calm them as best as you can. Curse that imperturbable charm! And curse that stupid wand! You haven’t been able to cast a single, functioning spell with it and your excitement for the world of magic had quickly dwindled into abhorrence, stemming solely from the stubbornly disobedient wand, “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do so excuse us!”

You hurriedly lead the boys away from Orion and to the living room as Orion snarls, outraged at being dismissed so flippantly but confused over your sudden change in demeanour. For now, he settles on observing the changes no matter how subtle and returns back to his office.

“THAT WAND ISN’T WORKING FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT IT’S TRUE MASTER!” Walburga screams in your head and instantly makes you clutch your temple in distress. Settled in the living room sofas, Sirius and Regulus observe you with worry. Walburga doesn’t seem to know any other way of communicating than screaming and it has led to multiple black outs and fainting spells. It also meant that you kept having to drink the same disgusting healing potion over and over again and you were sick of it!

Seeing the same symptoms again, the two boys fidget in their seats, wondering what to do to help, “Are you okay mother?” Regulus asks as you muster a small smile.

“I’ll be alright, Regulus, thank you,” your response isn’t enough to convince Sirius and he whispers something in his younger brother’s ear as you set to deal with the annoying bitch stuck in your head.

‘Shut up you insufferable bitch, is inducing a headache your only talent?’ Your words and foul language make her sputter pathetically and it makes you laugh under your breath. Your moment of joy and satisfaction is short lived, however, as Regulus summons Kreacher just as you fall into darkness once more.

The fucking bitch…

8th August 1971

Because of that evil bitch stuck in your head, you had to ingest another phial-full of that horrendous healing potion. Not only that but the stupid wand still isn’t working for you.

“How can I survive this hell hole if I can’t even use magic?” you grumble into the open air as the evil bitch cackles resembled the sputtering and coughing of a broken-down car, mixed with the discordance of an off-tune violin, erratic, grating and screeching.

‘Can you shut up?!’ you shout in your head, already fuming, ‘Your laugh sounds like it could kill someone! No wonder you’re so miserable and your only sons hate you!’ that finally got her to shut up and you could think clearly again. Even though the situation was annoying, It made you snicker. Being able to bully Walburga into silence made those awful healing potions worth it. You’d drink a hundred healing potions if it meant delivering justice for you two boys.

Now that she’s silent, you observe your desk. Thankfully, you also had your ownhome office. The previous Walburga had a planner specific for Sirius and Regulus’ studying plans, diet and calendars full of ‘X’s with small notes beside them on disobedience and the subsequent punishments. It was sickening and you wanted to burn the thing but you resisted. If you want to act convincingly in front of Orion and plan slyly, you need to know as much about the original Walburga as possible so you keep all her planners, journals and scraps of paper intact. You’ll study their contents thoroughly in due time. You still have some major planning to do and you need to note down important dates to keep track of before you forget them. The start you’ve made has been decent, however, you know you need to rely on magic at some points and you wouldn’t be able to succeed in the current state of your wand. And it isn’t as though you weren’t able to cast magic; the first time you tried to cast a simple spell – the well-renowned ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ – you had set the flowers in the vase on fire.

You need an excuse to go out. As the Patriach of the Black family, Orion had the key to the Gringotts Black Family vault so you can’t just go out haphazardly. You also weren’t comfortable with leaving the boys home alone so you need them to come with you if you can.

With a sigh, you slump into the rigid desk chair and set about occupying yourself with mundane tasks. Perhaps if you indulge yourself in other, simple activities, you can come up with something creative. Stacking your messily scrawled notations of future plans, you begin to rummage through the desk drawers for a stapler or paper clip but come up unproductive. Nothing. Did wizards and witches not use basic stationary?... They had magic, yes, but surely…

Your internal ramblings come to an abrupt stop when you spot a famed crest sitting above a deep red seal. The crest features four familiar beasts, a lion, a badger, a raven and a serpent; at the very centre was an ostentatious ‘H’ — it’s a letter from Hogwarts. And you were just beginning to suspect its potential contents. The seal has already been broken and the letter slips out easily.

Words on the page read with nostalgia, it was as if you were watching the first Harry Potter film all over again and cheering at Harry’s liberation from his toxic aunt, uncle and cousin.

‘Dear Sirius Black,’ it reads and your heart stutters in both excitement and anxiety, ‘We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.’

“Term starts on September 1st,” your eyes snapt to the desk calendar, which had automatically crossed off the days. It’s a little early but that just means you’ll beat the academic year rush. With a smile, you take out the separate list of necessary school supplies and pair it with a small list of your own.

Perfect, you have your reason.

9th August 1971

Before travelling by floo, Kreacher came up to you and cast a simple dirt-repellent spell on you and your two sons. You were grateful for his foresight and thanked him graciously for doing so. Much like all the times before, your unexpected kindness makes the grumpy house elf falter clumsily but adorably as Regulus grins at your side and Sirius huffs with an exaggerated pout on his lips. He’s still ever so stubborn about the house elf but you’ve observed how Regulus has put in the effort to push the two together. You join in the gentle prodding through leading by example, treating Kreacher kindly and with respect. Bit by bit, Sirius has been following yours and Regulus’ lead. He’s not fully there but you smile at the little progress he’s made. It’s only been a few days after all and the results are optimistic, it makes your heart flutter and you look forward to the future with brighter eyes. Sirius had been buzzing with silent excitement all morning and Regulus was quick to join his older brother’s enthusiasm when you informed him that he was welcome to come and join you.

You set off to travel by floo first so you can wait for the boys on the other side and so they’re not on their own not for too long. “Diagon Alley,” you announce clearly and without a shake of nervousness in your voice, only feverish anticipation. In moments, you’re engulfed by green flames. The world whirls around you in a dizzying blur of colours and sounds, the sensation both exhilarating and disorienting.

Unlike Harry and the Weasleys, you appear out of the subsequent fireplace without a spec of dirt on you and smile as you stumble out to await your two sons. The adrenaline rush of it all makes your fingers tingle and your head feel light headed but your smile only brightens. You still can’t believe you’re really here, sometimes.

Sirius came next and then Regulus. However, despite their earlier excitement, it appears as though their spirits were dampened just before travelling. Now, they stand before you with pouting lips and downcast eyes.

“What’s wrong boys?” you ask softly, kneeling down to their level, it was purely out of instinct now. You meet them at their comfort as an equal rather than the other way around. It usually does the trick of consoling them enough to speak to you but this time is different. Their lips are tightly sealed.

“We’re okay,” Sirius says in a tone that makes it seem as if he was trying to convince himself that. You want to press further but relent with a nod. It would be better for you to let them talk at their own time. Hopefully, being outside with so many charming shops dotted around, they’ll ease up and smile again. Pressing a brief kiss to their temples, you lead them out to the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley.

The street was bustling with magic and mystery as you observe the scene with bright eyes. The atmosphere of the wizarding alley didn’t compare to the movie adaptations. It was much more charming and wondrous to observe in real life. And wasn’t nearly as claustrophobic as it was depicted to you. However, that may be due to the fact that you hadn’t left the school shopping too late and so the streets weren’t as congested as when Harry went school shopping for the first time. Nevertheless, your heart didn’t stop pounding in elation as you held hands with your two sons and set forth to your first destination.

“Our first stop is at a very important place, okay?” on either side of you, Sirius and Regulus nod, still silent as you lead them through the streets. The air was thick with the scent of potion ingredients and freshly baked treats from the nearby shops, a symphony of sounds and smells, it was a little overwhelming but you couldn’t complain, the tenor of the climate was still very addictive.

As if summoning your first destination, your eyes were drawn to the towering structure of Gringotts, the goblins' bank. Its grandeur was a stark contrast to the quaint shops lining the street, making it stand out like a uniquely different gem amongst a cluster of little treasures.

You walk forward with purpose now but still keep your strides short for the boys. Looking down you observe how they take in the environment around them, dressed like little princes with perfectly permed hair and glittering diamond eyes. Sirius had familiarised himself with the routine of the day, the first stop would be Gringotts to withdraw money to buy all of his school supplies, the second stop would be to retrieve his wand and after that, it would just be a matter of going down the list. It was a different plan to the usual fixed outline his parents were strict to follow in usual outings. Sirius would have been more enthusiastic if his father hadn’t forcibly pulled him and Regulus aside after you’d first disappeared by floo.

‘Don’t even think about dirtying the Black family name while outside. If I even hear a single word of your misbehaviour, it’ll be an entire day spent in the vault!’

His father’s threatening words echoed menacingly in his head, his mind like an empty cave except for the haunting remarks that bounced off its despondent walls. The only way for his father to hear of any misbehaving is if his mother told on them but… Sirius chances a brief glance up at you, only to be met by your kind smile. Quick as lightning, Sirius looks away with a clench of his hand around yours. His mother isn’t like that now, though…right?

As the three of you pass windows displaying cauldrons, brooms, and a myriad of magical trinkets, Sirius’ mind raced with possibilities. What spells would he learn? Who would he meet? And would he make good friends with them? What house would he be sorted into? He hopes not Slytherin, it was what his entire family had been sorted into but he doesn’t want to be like them – never like them. Would he be able to play Quidditch, his mother always used to say that it was too violent and rambunctious of a sport to be associated with. Will he like his teachers? Will he enjoy his classes? The future was a mysterious, unopened book, and Sirius, although slightly hesitant, still bound to expectations, was ready to turn the first page.

As you step through the towering bronze doors of Gringotts, a shiver of awe runs down your spine. The splendour of the entrance hall was breathtaking, with gleaming marble floors and towering pillars that seemed to reach up into the heavens – as opulent a building should be that holds secure a multitude of treasures and ancient artefacts whilst being guarded by a ferocious dragon.

Goblins, sharp-eyed and meticulous, worked behind large, ornate desks – tall and domineering. Their long, dexterous fingers moved swiftly as they counted coins and scribbled in large ledgers, busy but happily so when surrounded by so much gold. The air was filled with the clinks of coins and the soft murmur of transactions, bank-speak, typical and not too far from the banks of ‘muggles’. High above, the cavernous ceiling was illuminated by shimmering crystal chandeliers, casting a golden glow over everything, fitting for the amount of gold glittering beneath it. It was a complimentary union, one that oozed lavishness. Even the air smelled rich and you wondered if gold dust was dancing in it too. The atmosphere was one of ancient power and impenetrable security, safe and anchored. As you walked further in, you could feel the weight of centuries of wizarding history envelope you, it was unmistakably a place where secrets and fortunes were both hidden and revealed.

Approaching a vacant desk, you steady your breath and quickly recite your introduction in your head before elegantly performing it. You first drop into a low but graceful bow and repeat your greeting from memory, “Greetings Master Goblin, may your gold prosper and your enemies fail against your blade, I am Madam Black,” with bated breath, you wait for his reply, hoping that uttering your family name was enough.

“Madame Black, I am Filgus. What can I do for you today?” the goblin hid his surprise well. It was unusual to receive such a polite and formal greeting from the Matriarch of the infamous Black family. The surprise was pleasant but also carried with it a fair share of warning. Odd behaviour never bode well. Filgus was determined to not let anything pass, his pride as a Goblin demanded it be so.

“I would like to withdraw from the family vault,” you explain and hand over the key Orion had

“Very well,” Filgus accepts the key and moves to dismount his desk, “follow me to the carts,” you’re immediately reminded of the movie scene, where the speed and twisting passage of the cart made Hagrid sick, even as a half giant.

“Is it safe for the children?” you fret instinctively. Maternal instincts, a previously dormant part of your nature now expressed in the most spontaneous but opportune ways.

Filgus snarls in offence but bites his tongue as best he could, “I assure you Madame Black that Gringotts is one of the safest establishments to exist in the wizarding world,”

Not wanting to offend the goblin further, you nod with some hesitancy and keep your boys close. The fact that you worried for them made their little hearts flutter as their cheeks heated into a delicate pink hue. It was unusual for them to experience such care and worry but it still made them feel good. Turning to each other, they observe their identical reactions and bite their lips to keep from grinning too widely.

The journey to the vault was as winding and twisting as you remembered in the films. It was equal parts frightening and thrilling. The experience was exactly like that of a rollercoaster but without as strict of a regard to safety. If only the path was better lit, maybe that would have made the journey a little more pleasant.

“Here we are,” Filgus announces, stepping off the cart and politely asking for the lamp. You oblige and slowly follow him out of the cart, steadying yourself before you help Sirius and Regulus out too, “your key, Madam Black?” Filgus sets about opening your vault door as you turn to the boys and check their welfare.

“Are you alright, my darlings?” you ask in a soft whisper, kneeling before them.

In all honesty, Sirius had enjoyed the ride down, the twists and turns and perilous speed made his head spin in the most delightful sense but he’s grown to like you worrying for him more than that temporary thrill. So, with a pitiful look on his face, he shakes his head ‘no’ and slowly begins to stretch his arms open.

“It was scary…” Sirius whispers, taking advantage of the cold underground temperature to make his voice shake in ‘fear’.

“Oh darling,” you coo softly and bring him into your arms, “it’s okay, you’re okay,” Sirius smiles into your shoulder and allows himself to cling onto you like he’s always secretly dreamed of doing. This feeling of safety and security was one he didn’t ever want to let go of. Over your shoulder, Regulus gapes at the affectionate scene and, although it goes against his moral code of lying, he musters up the sly courage his older brother so easily displayed.

“M-me too, mother,” Regulus calls for your attention in a bashful whisper, “I was scared too,” your kind, understanding smile eases his nerves Regulus jumps into your arms as soon as you open up to accommodate his small frame.

This didn’t count as misbehaving, right? Only they knew whether or not they were truly scared or not…

The bell above the door tinkled softly, happily announcing your arrival as you pushed open the creaky, unassuming entrance into Ollivander’s, the most renowned wand shop in all of Diagon Alley. It made you giddy just thinking about getting to meet the whimsical shop owner and wand artisan.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wood and magic, a combination that seemed to tickle the very edges of your senses. Your fingers itched to grasp at wand, your nose scrunched up at the pleasantly ancient scent permeating the air and your eyes surveyed the room with an eager gleam. The shop was narrow and cramped, yet it felt infinitely deep, with towering shelves that stretched up into the shadows. Each floor to ceiling shelving unit was crammed with thousands of slender boxes, their organisation questionable but fitting for such an antiquated establishment. Dim light filtered through the dusty windows, casting a mystical glow over everything. The walls seemed to whisper secrets of ancient trees and magical cores, each wand holding the promise of a unique bond, waiting to be discovered and pledged to its chosen master. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could hear Sirius’ heart pounding with the thrilling but nervous realisation that among the wondrous collection of boxes, one held a wand that was meant solely for him. It would be special and unequalled to anything else – an incomparable affiliation

Mr. Ollivander, with his pale, incisive eyes emerged from the shadows like a wisp of memory, his movements as silent and fluid as a ghost, a jolly ghost supporting a fanciful smile. His gaze takes in your sons, to which he gives a thoughtful hum before fixing his stare onto you.

“Madame Black…” Mr. Ollivander observes you with open curiosity, peaking the interest of your two boys, their diamond grey eyes watching the interaction silently and with overflowing intrigue, “having trouble with your wand?” his quick deduction makes your breath hitch and your shoulders tense. The impish gleam in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you, “it’s very peculiar for a wand that has already chosen its master to change its mind, especially from a wand that’s so loyal,” he ponders aloud as Sirius and Regulus inch closer to your sides, clinging onto the fabric of your dress skirt as they heed Ollivander’s nebulous words with a hint of caution, “curious, very curious indeed... I could only think of one reason, an abstruse but entirely possible reason for such a contingency in a world of magic…” Ollivander leans forward and looks deeply into your eyes, his own dancing about in their search, for what, you don’t have a clue. But it feels as though he can see into your soul, the flicker in his eyes detecting the presence of another. He shakes his head, almost in disbelief but laughs merrily, easing the tension built up in the air, “not one, but two, I see…”

Your heart shudders in your chest. Did he know?

NEXT. | 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : i would like to say that i was planning to delay this chapter update for a day or two since i was an absolute muppet to myself and decided to switch up events in the plot and oc introductions last minute but, thanks to @urmomw4ntsme (amazing username btw (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )) and their message about being excited for the update, i was lovingly and innocently pushed into getting the update out on time ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) so thank you, my darling haha! i appreciate your perfectly timed, kind message. i hope you darlings enjoyed the read and forgive me for splitting this chapter up into 2 parts - i suppose i planned for too much in one chapter hehe~

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#sirius black #regulus black #marauders era fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders #harry potter fix it au #marauders era fix it fic #orion black #walburga black #sirius black fanfiction #regulus black fanfiction #sirius black fluff #regulus black fluff #divorcing orion black series

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martian-astro10 · 5 months ago

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Random Observation 1

I've noticed that planets in a house, while being important, carry lesser weight than the lord of that house. I'll give an example of my own chart-

I have sun in 11th and I see many observations regarding it, like how they are extroverts, popular, outgoing and stuff like that, and I've never found them to be relatable, but Saturn is the lord of 10th and 11th for me, and I relate much more to the Saturn in 11th interpretation. Not only do I have a hard time making friends I'm also unable to maintain those friendships, i have a tendency to ghost people, I don't even know why I do that, being around people just drains my energy. I've changed 10 schools, you would expect me to have a lot of friends, but I just have one close friend, I do have a lot of acquaintances but I don't really LIKE them, yk?? I just hang out with them because that is what's required of me, expected of me.

I also have mars, rahu and Venus in 1st house in Aries, but because my 1st lord is mars, my personality I feel, is more martian than venusian. I've always been a very angry child, stubborn, argumentative, always annoyed and irritated, but also the first one to take initiative, be adventurous, willing to try new things, be competitive and I'm confident in my abilities. I have my weaknesses and strengths.

Venus is my 2nd and 7th lord and I feel like I've always related to Venus in 2nd and 7th house. I get attached to money very easily. I remember when I was in 12th, my mom hired a maths tutor cuz I was super bad at it, like in my preboards I got 5/80, and then he would come to my house, he was a good teacher, then my mom told me that she was paying him 3,000 rupees and hour and I literally started crying and I was like "how could you waste this much money, what's wrong with you, I'm such a stupid child, I'm sorry that you have to waste your hard earned money on a child like me" my mom was confused AS FUCK, and then I told my mom to tell him to stop coming, and I taught myself, watched youtube videos, worked my ass off and got 75/80 in boards...yeah. I hate wasting money, it hurts, it's actually painful for me. Also, I love attractive people, I feel like everyone does, but physical appearance is important to me, I can't be in a relationship with someone who I'm not physically/ sexually attracted to.

So...I think that the lord of a house is how you interact with the themes of that particular house. It's just something I've observed and it's okay if you don't agree or relate.

#astrology observations

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realcube · 1 month ago

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dilf december

day twenty-two ⭑ kotaro bokuto ⭑ snow man!

tw: fluff, reader gets picked up, slight flashing & age gap

bokuto was terrible at maths.

so it was only natural that he would need to hire a tutor for his kids as soon as they progressed past bokuto's level of numeric ability and he could no longer help them with their homework or topics they were struggling in. hence, as soon as they returned home with worksheets about fractions, he immediately went online to find a private tutor.

however, he went on a website that had pictures of the tutors alongside their names and qualifications, meaning that he inadvertently treated his search more like a dating site than a recruitment process. that is how, despite being able to afford a tutor with a phd in maths and a masters in education, he chose you — a struggling college student who charges prices on the lower end of the scale, since you had yet to attain a teaching degree.

he couldn't have made a better decision though! by now, he had hired you for around a year, thus he has gotten to know you quite well and he can tell you work exceptionally with his children — you teach them in a way that is both comprehensive and engaging, and their grades have seen a massive improvement because of you. he couldn't be more grateful.

today it was a cold winter afternoon, and you had just finished up a lesson with his children. bokuto doesn't like to hover during the sessions but he wants to stay nearby in case you need something, so he was currently in an adjacent room and is able to overhear you say your goodbyes to the kids, as well as them packing up their textbooks and scampering off to their rooms.

he peers into the room, seeing you at the dining table, packing up your equitment. you notice him, so he offers you a bright smile, "how'd it go?" he asks.

"good." you chirp, slipping your laptop and pens neatly into your backpack, "we're working on geometry right now. they both seem to understand area, so we will work on volume next week."

bokuto has no clue what any of those words mean — he may have if you asked him 20 years ago, but not anymore — he's just glad to hear that his children aren't struggling. "volume, already?! woah, i've got a pair of little genius' in my house!" he joked, crossing his arms over his chest and walking towards the window, "that's all thanks to you, though. i'll tell them to mention you in their speeches when they accept the noble prize."

you laughed with him, and there is a little flutter in your stomach as passes you, and you not only catch the lingering scent of his fresh cologne, but you also get a peek of his muscular back — you were aware that he was a retired volleyball player, but it still astounded you how he was able to remain in such an impressive shape. it was so tempting; all you could think about when he was in the room was how much you'd like to be squished between his biceps.

while he talks away, he peers out the window that overlooks the driveway, and frowns. one of the cons of owning such a large house is that it comes with an equally massive driveway, which you always insist to park at the bottom of because you don't want to 'intrude on their space', even though bokuto has assured you several times that you're welcome to park where ever you like and parking closer would surely be more convenient for you. however, he's unaware that the real reason you continue parking so far away from the house is that you don't want to park near the rest of his expensive cars and risk damaging one of them, but you keep this secret to yourself as you don't want him to think you're an incompetent driver.

anyway, during the two hour session you had just completed with his children, it has been raining, and although it had ceased by now, the cold weather in tandem with the damp ground has rendered his entire driveway an icy slipping-hazard! to get to one of his cars could be feasible, but your car was quite a distance away, which would be a very perilous journey.

"the ground outside looks so icy.." he muses, and you shuffle up behind him, peering out the window over his shoulder.

"yeah.." you mumble, staring worriedly down at your uggs had barely any grip on the sole, indicating that you had a better chance at successfully ice-skating back to your car than walking. of course, you didn't want to complain in front of bokuto, so you said, "i'll be fine. a little fall never hurt anyone."

you make the comment with a tinge of amusement and banter in your voice, but bokuto just stares at you in horror, until he refutes with, "you could get really hurt, (y/n) and we don't want that." his parenting instincts kick-in as he explains to you the potential danger and gravity of the situation. as he does so, he guides you to the foyer, where there is a rack of shoes, and he picks up a thick pair of boots on the top shelf, "i bought these ice shoes online. they are supposed to stop you from slipping on the ice."

you nod, about to open your mouth to say 'thank you', but you catch yourself just in time, as — instead of handing them to you, like you expected — bokuto hastily straps the shoes on himself. shocked by this decision, you stagger, "oh, so are you going to walk out to my car and drive it closer?"

you stumble out the first possible idea that comes to your mind, even though it wasn't especially well thought-out. bokuto scoffs as he continues to properly fasten the ice boots, "if i did that, your car would slip and slide all over the place, no?" he asks, and though it may have sounded like a rheatorical question, bokuto was genuinely asking if he corrected predicted the outcome of that situation, which he did.

you furrow your brows, perplexed as to what course of action he planned on taking, so you finally ask, "how am i going to make it to my car if you are the one wearing the non-slip boots? shouldn't i put them on?"

he shakes his head, standing up straight and stomping each foot to ensure that he equipped the boots thoroughly, and he smiles as they remain secured to his feet. "i'll carry you!" he states merrily, like it was no big deal.

meanwhile, all the air was knocked out of your lungs at the mere thought of him carrying you. he must've quickly noticed you becoming light-headed and dissociating, as he inquires, "uh, (y/n), are you okay?"

you gulp down the lump in your throat , and it leaves a harsh sting of anxiety in its wake. "i'm fine, it's just i th—"

"okay, cool. let's go!" bokuto cheers before you are able to finish your statement, and in one swift movement, he scoops you up in his arms and effortless thrusts you straight over his shoulder, so your legs are dangling by his front and your upper body was against his back.

however, not only was this position causing all the blood to rush to your head, but also you were bend over while in a skirt which you could feel had rode up slightly, while bokuto's arm securely wrapped over your thigh, preventing you from pulling it down. so, before bokuto could possibly step outside and accidently expose you to his neighbours, you roughly squirmed in his grasp and protested, "bokuto! skirt!"

that was all you were able to manage while vigoursly wrestling out of his grasp, but thankfully that was enough to convey the message to bokuto, and he swiftly changed your orientation, so one of his arms was now hooked under your shoulders and the other beneath your knees — carrying you bridal style. he flashed you an awkward smile, and croaked, "my bad!"

"it's fine.." you mutter, subtly adjusting your skirt to protect your modesty.

"ready to go?" he asks, giving your shoulders a slight squeeze for emphasis.

"i guess so."

he nods. even with you in his arms, he is still able to extend his arms forward and pull the door open, and shut it behind him. then, slowly but surely, he begins to make his way down to your car. slowly but surely, one step at a time, making sure every movement is precise and calculated, without any rush.

your heart was beating a hole in your chest. you still couldn't fully process the fact you were being carried like a princess to your car by the dad of the kids you tutor. truthfully, you've always had quite a thing for the older bachelor, and you suspected he had similar feelings towards you, but considering the age difference, you always assumed that your relationship would never exceed mild flirtatious comment and chatter.

yet here you were; tucked safely in his strong arms as he carries you like a precious, weightless artifact down his driveway.

bokuto must've misread the excitment on your face for fear, as he chuckles, "you look so scared, (y/n). think i'm gonna trip or something?" he gazes down at you with his cheerful, honey eyes. when you reciprocate his comment with only a terrified look, he continues, "don't be. i won't let anything bad happen to you." and what made you're heart melt for him is that you could tell he was being sincere; with every slow, laboured movement, and the way his eyes were glued to the path in front him, you could tell he was diligently trying to keep you safe.

you still didn't respond, and the journey wasn't getting any quicker, so he attempts to make casual conversation, "this reminds me of my second wedding."

"second?" you ask in shock, under the impression he had only been married once.

"yeah, second wedding." he muses, recollecting of the events of the night, "she wanted me to carry her down the aisle to the carriage that was going to take us to the hotel, but we got married in the alps on a very snowy day, so that took a while."

"oh." you hum, entertained by his story but discontented that he didn't mention anything about the fact he had been married a second time, "did you book your wedding on a snowy day on purpose?"

"no, but it was fun anyway."

"that's good." you mumble, and since it was your turn to make idle coversation, you ask, "do think you'll have your third wedding while it's snowing too?"

he furrows his brows together in concentration, and recollects, "hm, no. my third wedding was on the beach."

was?! surely you must've misheard him, or maybe he just mispoke. there was no way he had been married three times. you wrack your brain for a way to ask for clairfication without seeming too overt or nosey, eventually staggering out, "so, where will your fourth wedding be?"

he blinks, then responds, "i don't know. but i know it will be my last one, and i'll have the most beautiful bride." his eyes momentarily avert from the icey pavement in front of him, only so he can meet your longing gaze. the moment is fleeting, before he returns to carefully trudging over the ice, but it fills you with an immense warm and comfort. something about resting in bokuto's arms and him looking at you with such a sweet glint in his eye was so wholesome, and it made you want to stay in this exact position forever.

therefore, you were almost disappointed when he finally reached the car, "we're here." he states gleefully, shooting you a playful wink as he says, "told you i'd get you here safe and sound, didn't i?" then, with great care, he slowly lowers your legs to the ground and gently places you down, keep a hold of your waist in case you fall over while finding your balance.

your hand finds it way to his bicep as you stable yourself, and you say, "thank you so much; you really didn't have to do all that for me."

"of course i did. i wasn't going to let you get hurt in my driveway." he shakes his head definitively, "it's not like it was hard, anyway. i might start carrying you into the house as well. would ya like that?"

he teases, and he can tell your answer from the way you tense up in hands.

#bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto fluff #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #👾fluff #dilf⭑december

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masterclasspace · 2 years ago

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chrisweetheart · 4 months ago

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apocalypse

mentions of sex, cursing

the popular mean girl is failing in her classes, her teacher forces her to hire a tutor otherwise she wouldn’t make it into her dream college, what happens when she accidentally falls in love with her tutor?

900+

“your lips, my lips, apocalypse”

7/100.

written in bright red with a circle around it on the front page of my maths paper. i sigh disappointingly and looked up at my teacher. he did not look impressed.

“i swear i tried my best this time!” i dishonestly stated, flapping my paper around and crossing my arms like a child. truthfully, i spent absolutely no time revising or studying for this test, i didn’t even know it was happening until i walked into my maths class a few weeks ago.

“you clearly aren’t trying hard enough, are you? this is your sixth fail in a row.” he said unhappily, “i have also not received any homework from you this week, it was due 2 days ago.” shit we had homework? i don’t understand the point of homework anyway, everyone just googles the answers or uses ai nowadays, including me, when i could be bothered to do it. which was never

“look, if you keep this up then your going to be looking at a rough future for you, young lady, these grades are not good enough to get you into the college of your dreams, miss.” mr adam’s exclaimed whilst neatly tidying up his desk for his next class. he sounded let down.

seriously? i knew i wasn’t doing great in school but i was sure i wasn’t doing that terribly. “look sir i’m sorry, i’ve just been so stressed and caught up with my cheerleading lately, i had no time to revise!”

“your education is more important than your cheerleading.” he stated, very matter-of-factly. i knew it wasn’t, cheerleading was my passion, i was good at it, so that meant i cared about it more, a lot more.

“whatever, i’ll start studying more.” i rolled my eyes discreetly, hoping he wouldn’t notice my annoyed tone.

“it’s too late for that now. i really would recommend you hire a tutor, i’m sure it would help you improve your grades greatly,” mr adam’s replied, his voice laced with genuine concern.

a tutor, are you kidding me? i burst out laughing, “are you serious? i can’t have a tutor, i would be the laughing stock of senior year!” as much as i hated school and didn’t care about my grades, i needed to be perceived as perfect, no one could know i’m secretly dumb. if anyone knew or saw me with a tutor my life would be ruined.

“i know your popularity is very important to you ma’am, but unfortunately you have no choice now i’m afraid. i will be setting you up with a tutor next week, be prepared.” he added and shooed me out his classroom without giving me a chance to complain.

𝜗𝜚

“your fucking kidding me!” i threw my arms up and frowned, about to have a tantrum as i looked down at my phone, staring, almost as if i couldn’t believe it’s true, at an email from mr adam’s.

“it’s okay! it wont be that bad i promise you!” my best friend, emma, stated trying to make me feel better. she knew full well it was absolutely not going to be okay. emma was the one person i could trust with my life, i had a bunch of “friends” but none of them i really liked, i knew they were all fake and using me for my popularity and money, emma would never do that. we are complete opposites but i think that’s what makes us click so well, she is a straight A+ student and has never missed a day of school. opposites attract after all.

“matthew sturniolo? who the fuck even is that? he sounds like a fucking geek with greasy hair and buck teeth! my life is completely ruined, shit!” i yelled out, wanting to collapse and breakdown in the middle of the school corridors.

“sturniolo..” emma said in deep thought, “i recognise that last name from somewhere,” she added gazing off into the distance. “oh wait! it’s those twins last names! you know, chris and nick?” emma blurted out.

chris was the most popular guy in school, i had a small meaningless thing with him when we were in sophomore year but i cut him off before he ever had the chance to fuck me, he probably has about every STD known to mankind, the way he runs through girls faster than i go through energy drinks. he was very attractive though i had to admit and had every single girl at his feet, begging to suck his dick.

nick was also very popular, but not for the same reasons as chris, nick was the one person every single girl in our year wanted to be friends with, he knew all the gossip about everything and everyone. he was also very enticing and basically every girl had a crush on him, although everybody would admire him from afar and not ever dare make a move since he didn’t swing that way.

“i wonder how matt is in relation to them, maybe a distant cousin?” i questioned, not expecting an answer or wanting an answer to be honest.

“i’m not sure, when is your first tutoring session?” emma asked quizzically, while taking books out of her locker and stuffing them messily into her bag.

“today after school in the library,” i groaned dramatically.

“i’ll make sure to keep you in my prayers, now i have to go, i can’t be late, love you!” emma smiled brightly at me and i waved back and sighed as she strutted away confidently, every boy staring at her, drool practically hanging from their lips the way they looked at her, like a predator looking at its prey.

this is going to be a long day.

@ CHRISWEETHEART

⋆˙⟡ tags : @chrattenthusiast @bernardsbendystraws @chestersturniolo @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @freshloverr @fruitglazed @hearts4chriss @kenzieiskoolaid @mattscoquette @ariestrxsh @mattssluttywaist @muwapsturniolo @m6ttsturniolo @nicksbf @onmykneesformatt @plasticferal @pussypie456 @recklesssturniolo @sturnioloshacker @strniohoeee @sturniolopepsi @whoreforchr1s @yesterdaysproblem @christinarowie332 @itwasmarooonn @freakyellssturniolo @delilahsturniolo @333michelle @annielolz @cconeyislandbaby @chriseatingmeoutin4k @n8doe @jetaimevous @sleepysturn @phimstarz @stonersturns @forgottxen

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cmdrfupa · 5 months ago

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Tend to me

Barkeep!Nanami x Salarywomxn!Reader

“That's what I do. I drink and I know things.”

a/n did this come from talking in a server about how post college Nanami needs a job and simping over how hot he’d be with his sleeves rolled up? You bet your ass it did. Thank you Court and Nana for your beautiful brains 🩵💜

MDNI +19

Five rejection emails, no callbacks, and his interview today turned into a scene from a novela after the receptionist barged into the boss's office, exclaiming that she was pregnant. All in the span of one week.

Kento pressed his forehead to the linoleum. table as he groaned.

“Don't give up! It's like, 10,000 other bank jobs! You'll get one.” Haibara squeezed Kento’s shoulder as he watched his form slump into itself.

"Yu, it seems like I’ve been turned down for 10,000 jobs. At this rate, I’ll have better luck getting a job as a cab driver.”

“But you don't have a car—”

“Shhhhhh.” Kento turned his head to the side, still keeping it on the table and looking at Yu.

He knew Yu was trying to help, but it’d be more helpful if he didn't speak.

"Look, Ken. If nothing else comes up, I can talk to my boss to get you hired.” Yu stuffed the last of his tuna onigiri in his mouth, smiling as he attempted to cheer his roommate up. “You won't have my role as a trainer, but you could be one of the guys who clean off the sweaty machines! Pays pretty decent.”

Clearing his throat, Kento sat up, eyes still closed before he spoke up.

“Yu.”

“Yeah?” His big brown eyes were only filled with genuine care; Kento looked over at him and sighed.

“Thank you. I'll let you know if I need you to do that.

Yu gave a toothy grin as he gave Kento a swift pat on the back. “It's all gonna be okay! Just breathe.”

Kento stood with a wry smile. “Thanks. I'm gonna go for a walk. Clear my mind a bit. See you tonight.”

The stroll served its purpose. It reminded Kento he wasn't a poor interviewer, nor did he lack the gusto. The job market was over-saturated and relied heavily on personal connections; Kento did not know a soul in the finance world.

He stopped; a ‘Now hiring, Inquire within’ sign on a heavily tinted window caught his eye while Gojo watched him from the other end of the FaceTime call.

“Where does that leave you now?”

“Well, I’ll get some experience in the meantime, become a math teacher or tutor while I look for something more sustainable.”

"You? A teacher? Nanamin, don’t make me laugh.” Gojo propped his phone up, “You’ll have the students' brains bleeding out if you do that. Think of the children, Ken-doll.”

Kento rolled his eyes and watched Gojo clean his desk. Literary motifs littered the wall behind Gojo. A large poster of Yevgeny Zamyatin hung in the center. “Math isn't supposed to be fun anyway. It's not teaching Dr. Seuss. It teaches objective truths and concepts.”

Gojo feigned a yawn. “Wherever there is objective truth, there is satire.”

“That’s not how Wyndham Lewis meant it.”

“You don't know that! He's dead. It's all about interpretation.”

“I’m hanging up now. Gojo. Goodbye.”

Gojo smiled. “I can pull some strings and see if Yaga has a spot in the math department.” he nabbed his phone, seemingly prepping to leave his classroom.

“And remember dinner this weekend! See you Nanamin!” he blew a kiss into the phone pushing Kento to immediately hang up.

Kento looked back at the building. The 3-story building had hints of older Japanese architecture with European accents.

"The Zenith" was carved into a wooden pillar adjacent to the entry, with a simple design.

“I can just see what they're hiring for. No harm in that.”

The bar inside was the epitome of luxury and sophistication, designed to impress the city’s most discerning clientele. In the hotel's heart, Kento felt out of place. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed breathtaking views of the Tokyo skyline. He waited for the hiring manager to end her dumbfounded stare.

“So no previous barkeeping history, no customer service work, and no idea how to run a till.” The dark-haired woman named Utahime looked up at Kento. “What qualifications do you have?”

Smoothing his hair back to think of what he could say to seem qualified, he looked around the room. Older individuals who appear established. Business-minded.

An older woman, in a meeting, smiling at the blonde-haired man. An older man was on a call. His younger companion crossed her legs and batted her lashes as Kento scanned.

"I could boost revenue and upsell your best bottles to those who don't care about the price."

“Mr. Nanami. How could you do that? Most of our clientele just order one drink and maybe a listening ear.”

There were a lot of things Kento lacked but looks were never one of them. The gift of having the perfect genetics made academics a breeze. But, it was now time to use his good looks and gift of gab, inherited from his grandfather.

“I learn quick. Hire me today and I’ll have every stool filled and the register overfilled in 7 days. I guarantee.”

Polished, calm, and precise. Nanami excelled behind the bar, his steady hands mixing drinks for the city’s elite. With his sleeves rolled, he perfected the craft of keeping up with mundane conversations mid-shake. His bulging veins, as he held the shaker, made every woman calculate their tip before he served their martinis. Muscles flexed when he noticed some of the older men who could care less about the young women in cocktail dresses attempting to be mysterious and wanted to know if the blonde keep could do more than be heavy-handed on the gin.

He was the bar's eye candy, something they should've thought about hiring months ago.

It's a world where he realized he can control every variable, crafting experiences one cocktail at a time.

After his first week, they offered him a permanent position. Working midday during the week to keep businessmen and women pleased and one Saturday evening shift a month to keep the younger crowd in.

The low hum of conversation and soft jazz music filled the dimly lit bar as Kento worked behind the sleek marble counter, expertly mixing another round of drinks for the evening's guests. He wore his usual stoic expression, with the usual white button-down shirt and well-fitting slacks to match.

He placed a completed cocktail on the bar top, and wiped his hands while checking what needed to be refilled. “Utahime? Could I get some more ice and a few more lowball glasses, please?” he spoke into the earpiece he donned on his left ear. “They seem to be disappearing, and Choso isn't back from his break."

"Yeah. Give me 20. I'm running tables for catering. I'll send it by Takuma.”

“Thanks.”

He wiped down the bar top; a figure slid onto one of the high-backed leather stools in his peripheral with an aura that turned heads without needing to demand attention.

“What can I get started for you this afternoon?”

“I’ll have a French 75, please. Thank you.” Smooth and assured, your voice rang like a hymnal in his ears.

Kento gave you a nod, his ability to indulge in small talk temporarily taken from him by your presence. He set to work, measuring gin and fresh lemon juice with his usual care, topped with a flourish of champagne. The drink landed before you in a delicate, chilled glass.

You took a sip, eyes never leaving his. Your nude-colored lips curved into a small but telling smile. "Not bad... but not quite perfect either."

Kento raised an eyebrow, subtly intrigued but keeping his expression neutral. “I take it you have high standards.”

You chuckled, low and sultry. “I’m a person who knows what she wants, and I don’t settle for anything less.”

Nanami leaned in slightly, his tone dry yet teasing. “Perfection is subjective. Some people might call that 'almost' drinkable."

"Almost isn't in my vocabulary," you replied, eyes gleaming with challenge. You pursed your lips. “Not in business, not in life... and definitely not in drinks.”

He smirked, just enough for you to notice. “I’ll keep that in mind for your next order.”

You swirled the drink in your glass, the fizz of champagne catching the low light as you appraised him. “A man who can admit he’s not perfect? You must have been raised well. Refreshing.”

Nanami met your gaze, unruffled by your attempt to throw him off his game. “I prefer precision over perfection. Perfection tends to make people complacent.”

Your eyes narrowed but with a hint of amusement. “Interesting perspective, coming from someone who works behind a bar.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Someone has to remind people that the best things in life have room for improvement. Even when they think they’ve already got it all.”

Tilting your head, glancing at the way the simple silver chain rested against his collar. You were impressed but clearly enjoying the game. “You might be onto something. What’s your name?”

“Nanami Kento,” he said simply, as he wiped down the bar.

“Well, Nanami,” your voice is softer but no less commanding, "next time, why don’t you make me a drink that I can’t critique?”

He gave you a rare, almost imperceptible smile. “Challenge accepted.”

Your eyes lingered on each other, the tension electric. You raised your glass, with a smile so poised and self-assured, before taking another sip.

"Looking forward to it," you murmured, low and teasing. Then, you stood and left a 50-dollar tip with your card. You walked away, your perfume lingering in the air.

Kento read your name on the card. His curiosity ran wild with every possible scenario as he watched your backend disappear into the lobby

A few days later, the bar's golden lights glowed softly. They reflected off the dark marble counter as Nanami wiped down glasses. His thoughts drifted to the usual routine. He’d swapped shifts, which resulted in watching the evening crowd trickle in, primarily corporate types and high-society guests, and Nanami managed the situation with his typical efficiency and calm demeanor.

But as he adjusted a bottle of whiskey on the back shelf, a familiar presence caught his eye.

You were back.

You entered with the same quiet confidence, this time fitted with a far more casual, sleek outfit paired with heels that clacked against the polished floor.

Moving with ease, you slipped into the same seat as last time, your gaze meeting his immediately. Your lips curled into a slow smile, almost as if you knew he’d be expecting you.

“Good evening," Kento greeted, his voice calm with a slight edge of anticipation.

"Nanami," you replied, leaning forward. Your self-assured energy was hard to ignore. “It's a pleasure to see you tonight. I think I’m in the mood for something a bit more... complex.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone dry but with an undertone of curiosity. “What are we talking about? A Negroni? Maybe a Vieux Carré?”

You smiled a glint of challenge in your eye. “Surprise me.”

Kento studied you for a moment, then nodded and began his work.

His movements were precise but fluid as he grabbed a bottle of mezcal and began crafting a Smoky Margarita, layering complex flavors—mezcal for smokiness, lime for sharpness, and a touch of agave to round it out, all topped off with a rim of chili salt. The drink was bold and nuanced, like the woman before him.

He placed the glass in front of you with hushed confidence, waiting for your reaction.

With a slow sip, your lips brushed against the glass as your tongue sampled the salted rim. Eyes closed momentarily to savor the taste.

When you opened them, your gaze locked onto his.

“Now this,” you leaned forward, "is much better.”

Kento leaned on the counter slightly, his smirk more visible this time. “Glad to hear it. Looks like I’m learning.”

“Seems like you’re a quick study.”

You held each other’s gaze, the air between thick with tension that had only grown since your last encounter. Your voice dropped to an intimate murmur, barely audible over the ambient music. “So, Nanami... what do you do when you’re not making perfect drinks?”

He raised an eyebrow, amused by the shift in your tone. “I don’t get much free time. I like structure with very little change. But I do have a break coming up.”

Your smile widened, and there was a glint of mischief in your eyes. “Is that so? And what do you usually do on these breaks?”

Kento straightened, glancing around the bar. The crowd was calm tonight, his usuals with a small group of beer drinkers. He certainly wasn’t going to be missed if he disappeared a little earlier than usual. “Not very much. But there’s a private spot upstairs. Quiet.”

“Lead the way.”

Kento signaled for one of the other bartenders, wordlessly handing off duties as he made his way around the bar and approached you. You stood and walked alongside him through the bar.

Turning the corner without paying attention, an inattentive passerby bumped into Kento, a glass of what he could guess was whiskey now soaking the front of his shirt. “Holy shit, sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

You pressed your lips together, smiling as Kento didn’t let the incident interrupt your determined ascent up the stairs.

You didn’t speak as you made your way to a barrier, secluded alcove on the mezzanine floor—a quiet corner with a view of the city through tall windows, framed by rich drapes. The world outside was glittering and alive, but here, away from prying eyes, it felt like their own little escape.

Kento stopped near the window, turning to face you as the ambient glow of the city lights bathed them both in soft light. You stepped closer, the subtle scent of your perfume mixing with the full scent of whiskey that stuck to him. He unbuttoned his shirt, uncovering his lean torso and square pecs.

“You have a talent for choosing the right spot.” You said, your voice lower now.

“I don’t waste time.” He replied, his eyes locked on yours.

You smirked, stepping even closer until the space between you was nearly nonexistent. “Efficient. I like that.”

Kento’s pulse quickened though his exterior remained composed. The heat of your presence never wavering as he watched your every move.

You lightly brushed his arm, a deliberate move to see his reaction.

“I knew you’d be interesting,” you uttered, your voice soft, teasing, but laced with something deeper. “I just didn’t know how interesting.”

Kento’s lips quirked into a small smile, one that carried more weight than any words he could say at that moment. “You’re not so predictable yourself.”

Your eyes locked. The city lights flickered around you, but neither of you noticed, too caught up in the magnetic pull of something new, something charged.

You reached up, your hand brushing his collarbone. You licked his whiskey-flavored chest. You languidly licked up to his neck as he sucked in a sharp breath. "Hmm." You whispered while your lips hovered close to his. “I like a man who can keep up."

Nanami’s voice was steady, but there was a rough edge to it now. “I don’t plan on slowing down.”

With a final, knowing smile, he closed the gap between you. His lips brushed yours in a kiss more electric than the city lights below.

“Nanami Kento.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“When you clock out, my room happens to be on the floor above this one.” You slid your room card into his pants pocket as his hand slid down, pressing you into him.

Kento pushed you to the wall with a quick yet gentle motion, nudging his knee between your thighs. "You've surprised me."

“How so?" The sudden closeness brought a surge of anticipation bursting in your chest.

"I didn't take you for someone who would enjoy a bit of public play."

You rubbed your wetness on his knee, lost in thought. A simpering moan escaped you. "I don't know what you're talking about, Nanami."

Amused by your attempt to keep it together, he moved his knee forward to elicit another moan from you. "The dampness of my slacks says otherwise." He drowned out the sounds of the late-night rush with the pants he pulled from you.

"Tell me how to please you with precision and I'll follow every direction."

Thank you @/saradika-graphics for the dividers ✨

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento x y/n #nanami x reader #jjk smut #lounge.logs #lu.logs

110 notes · View notes