#ik this runs on so much but i love talking abt this shit and i didnt

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[nomairuins]

we had fun tho the whole family hung out and we did some sporclee and chronophoto and then globle me n lamp nd father did globle bc mein mamma went to sleep. yay :]

[staraxiaa]

+ extra lines bc i ran out of tag space .

If you cross the river (will the fighting end?)

Contrary to what granny once said, Kita thinks he won't ever truly know who you are. You are the one who waits by the river, watching as he scrubs dirt from fresh carrots and dirty shovels. You are the one whose presence lingers like mist over his skin when you part. You are the one whose eyes he always feels, at every moment—the eyes granny reminds him of when they wipe the floor or prepare a meal together.

You are the one who knows that it does not matter, that he would still perform his rituals and hold unwavering conviction even if you were not there. Because he is Kita; he is Shin-chan—repetition, perseverance, and diligence is how he lives...because it simply feels good.

You are the same, committed to your duty to watch him from the moment you were pulled from the glory of a summit. And he is committed to being watched by you.

shinsuke kita x GN reader character study for shin, reader is a river/rain spirit, themes of disaster, mentions of dying/minor character death, fluff and angst, slow burn (i think), slight spoilers for haikyuu!! timeskip 20.4k words | oneshot, complete

notes: This fic is set around the premise that Kita's gran lives in the mountains of eastern Hyogo, just above Osaka. I have his parents living in the city while Kita is cared for by granny until it's time for him to start school, around 6 years old. He goes to Osaka during the school year and no longer spends time in the mtns. Since canon doesn't offer a whole lot of information, I took liberties with the setting and backstory to fit the plot of my fic. I hope this can help negate any potential confusion! + (It's another fic spanning childhood to adulthood. With a magical reader. I am unfortunately not able to escape my own tropes.) + shoutout to this fic for inspiration

ao3 option

One moment you are a carefree being, gleefully running along a series of falls wedged along the mountain summit. The sun is setting and you are soaking in the glory of the day: with swaying leaves and shimmering droplets, and the last bit of light streaming through pockets of trees.

The next you are falling, rolling, bumping your way through the water. A current sweeps you away without warning, your vision goes dark, and you have left your place above the sun to land in the depths of a looming valley. You have to carry onwards, knowing there is no going back, so you search for the one who brought you here.

There is a dim light beyond the bank. It seeps from the open screen of a traditional-style house, illuminating the wooden beams and eaves from behind. It's a bedroom, with a small boy dutifully putting his futon down for the night, smoothing out the bumps and lining the base to be in its exact spot. He has salt and pepper hair and you think he is the youngest old person you will ever see. He never looks your way, but you sense that he knows you are watching.

So you watch, now that you're here.

"Granny, who's that?"

He is a toddler, carried along the path next to the river by his grandmother, a thin arm clutching him tightly against her hip. Her eyes slowly move from his face to his finger pointing towards the water. She can't see what he sees: another child, waist deep in the gentle rapids, mysteriously faded—like a mist lingering instead of wafting to the sky. She smiles gently when she understands, bringing a hand to pat his hair softly.

"You'll learn when the time is right, Shin-chan."

She knows how this story will go.

Someone is always watching, Shin-chan.

Kita's life is built upon the small things he does everyday, and the end results are no more than a byproduct of that.

Someone is watching over you.

Rain streams down the mountain gullies and pools in the river at the center of the valley.

The sun rises. Over and over and over again.

Childhood

The morning light streams through open screens, crawling up the veranda and into the adjacent interior. It’s the beginning of June—cleaning day, the tatami mats moved aside for inspection and rotation while Kita and granny scrub the wooden floors together. Foam bubbles from the rag when he wrings it out, excess water trickling into the bucket. He wipes it across the floor of their living room, watching carefully as the wood darkens slightly, but not too much, leaving shiny streaks and stray bubbles behind. He smiles to himself gently.

A grin tugs at granny as she watches from the opposite side of the room. It was Shin-chan’s own decision to clean with her today. He gave her no reason as he simply said, “I’ll help,” when she grabbed her bucket and rags. He already started pulling the mats aside, then struggled to move the table in the center by himself. Granny chuckles to herself at the recollection before returning her attention to the floor, her section a little lighter than Kita's.

He looks to her side and the faintest crease appears between his brows, a slight purse of his lips. When he wrings out his towel again, he pulls the ends a little tighter before bringing it back to the floor with a new gentleness. The result brings the twitch of a smile to his mouth. It makes him feel good.

From outside, he hears the rustling of leaves, creaking as bamboo sways in a light breeze, and the scrapes of shrubs against the house. The morning is cool, bringing in air that will hopefully linger as the day drags on. The only chatter comes from the birds, quick raps of storks in the river and singing sparrows in the trees. Kita feels a warmth, one from inside, as he listens. Focuses.

He thinks it could be praise, from the spirits that are watching.

It’s still morning when they finish, the mats brushed and switched with the ones in the closet. After they return the table to the center of the room, granny quietly thanks Kita for his help. He only nods in return. Quiet Shin-chan. He thinks he’ll read until lunch, or maybe help some more if granny plans to work in the garden.

She interrupts his thoughts. “Let’s go for a walk, to Fujiwara-san’s.”

Kita's brow furrows ever so slightly, but he nods. Granny sometimes likes to visit the neighbors, though without any clear pattern or schedule. He thinks she might be doing it for him, so he can talk with other kids his age, especially with his sister always gone to a friend’s and his baby brother in the city. He would rather read, but agrees regardless since it’s granny asking.

They slip their feet into sandals and start down the path along the river, towards the right. Kita reaches for granny’s hand and she smiles down at the top of his hair. They walk slowly along pebbles and dirt, accompanied by the sound of water rushing next to them. Eventually they approach a bridge, granny having to grasp the railing as she walks up the steps. When she reaches the center of the river she pauses, a ritual, to watch the water run by.

“Fujiwara-san said he has exciting news,” granny offers in a delayed explanation. Kita doesn’t respond. 

Granny takes another minute to step down on the other end of the bridge and continue walking. They go left, towards the house that sits opposite of theirs. It takes slightly longer with the incline, but it’s quaint and Kita feels no hurry.

The house is open when they arrive, doors aside to let the last cool minutes waft through. There’s nobody home, however, and Kita looks up to granny curiously after they step onto the exterior veranda.

She only offers a smile as they wait a few moments. His attention is diverted when he hears the thumping of footsteps, small and quick, getting closer. They’re followed by Fujiwara’s muffled voice, worried. Kita's hand tightens in granny’s as he watches closely.

Out runs a child, his age, tracking dark footprints along the tatami mats from the back entrance. Not just with dirt, but smudges of mud, smearing on the woven grass. His chest tightens at the sight and he has the urge to scold, to clean the mess, but then he feels eyes on him and—

That watchful gaze he remembers clearly, despite only seeing it once, years ago. A gaze he still feels everyday, most intently at night. You are grown, but only as much as he is. And you’re…real. With a weight and embodiment, a person instead of a misty image on the river’s surface. You’re also brighter, both in appearance and spirit, as you put a small handful of grapes (fat and crisp and green) into your mouth (skin and seeds included) and chew quickly before swallowing and smiling widely at him. 

Again, Kita wants to protest the sight, tell you the skin is dirty and you can’t eat seeds, but the words are trapped. Something is tugging at his chest—something other than his apprehension, something that makes him want to physically step forward.

But then Fujiwara-san is rushing in, though not very quickly. He’s another old-timer in the village, with crinkly eyes and little hair remaining on his head, paired with a thin physique and hunch in his back. In one hand he carries a woven basket, filled with more bunches of grapes, shiny and wet. In the other is a wooden cane, pale with a reddish tint—Kita thinks maple. The old man never needed one before, and Kita wonders what’s changed.

He looks back to you, the one change he’s aware of.

“Shinsuke-kun,” his thoughts are interrupted by the call of his name. He hasn’t been listening, he realizes, and he turns his attention to the grandpa. “This is one of my grandchildren. My daughter has been busier with work lately.”

Kita, for a third time, wants to protest. He’s met all of Fujiwara-san’s grandchildren before, and if he hadn’t, granny would have certainly told him about another five year old. He doesn’t know how to respond, can’t, and so he watches blankly. You are smiling at him the entire time, with a joy he doesn’t understand—at least, not entirely.

(There is a tightness in his chest at the sight of you, like it wants to expand beyond its capability. He’s not sure what that means.)

“Have some grapes!” you exclaim in a soft voice, thrusting the bunch towards him. Two fall from the force of your sharp movements, and he watches as they roll on the ground, leaving another stain. He doesn’t accept them, just continues to stare at the mess.

Granny fights a smile as she encourages him. “Let’s try some Shin-chan.”

He wants to say that he’s already had them before. He knows they will be delicious and crunchy and refreshing, especially now that the heat is rising with the sun. He knows that Fujiwara’s grapes are the best, and now two have been wasted and splattered on the tatami. Instead of reprimanding you, he reaches his arm out to take the bundle. Since granny asked.

His eyes widen when you then crouch to pick up the fallen fruit from the floor and eat them (skin and seeds included) without so much as wiping them off.

Who are you?

The faintest tug on his hand makes him turn to granny, who’s pulling one off the bundle he’s holding to give it a taste. “They’re delicious as always,” she says. “I’m surprised it’s such an early harvest.”

Fujiwara smiles, eyes crinkling further. “Snow came early this winter,” he reminds her.

She hums thoughtfully. “Ah, yes. The weather has been quite unusual this year.”

Unusual, Kita wonders to himself. Because of you.

You smile at him again and that inexplicable tightness arises in his chest once more. He frowns, the first genuine frown of displeasure today. His mind tells him to ask granny if he can go home, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t understand how that could be possible, to want and not want something at the same time. His frown deepens.

Kita thinks his time at Fujiwara-san’s is excruciating. Kita is also hesitant to leave when granny says it’s time to go. He misses a knowing smile that rests on her face as she tugs him gently, watching as he glances back during their walk home.

You are nosy. Kita was already aware, given he could feel you watching him at every moment, even when he can’t see you. But you are nosy when you are physically near him. And you are around him often now, nearly every day for the past week. Whether you simply show up at random or granny is pulling him along to Fujiwara’s, Kita learns that being around you is inescapable, inevitable. 

At the very least you aren’t noisy, just curious. At granny’s you quietly hover whenever Kita switches tasks or activities, a ghost floating over his shoulder. Once you’ve fulfilled whatever interest you have, you keep to yourself in your own part of the room. You’re helpful in the garden, for some reason, but you make him grimace when you pull a carrot directly from the ground and take a bite, dirt and all. You don’t help him wash the harvest, just crouch next to him by the river water and watch his hands diligently scrub.

You are, however, incredibly messy. It’s as if you don’t even register what a mess is, mud and leaves and water following you everywhere. Always. Trekking through the door with bare feet, smudges of grime trailing behind, sometimes with dripping hair—undried hair—that leaves dark circles and puddles on the mats and wood.

Every time it happens his chest flares with irritation, that urge to scold you. But granny is near, so he says nothing and instead looks at her intently. Granny only ever smiles back, sometimes handing him a towel and reminding him that he can help, if he wants. He doesn’t want to. He’s not sure why the adults haven’t explained it to you, surely Fujiwara-san can’t keep up with the cleaning he must have to do to house you. If Kita and granny always have to scrub your mess after you visit, Fujiwara must be mopping every hour. Sometimes they clean when you’re here, while you just sit and watch, only to dirty the floor again the following day.

After a week of this passes and you show up again, uninvited and with your bare feet leaving mud on the veranda, he caves.

“Don’ come around here if yer jus’ gonna make a mess,” he says firmly—but also quietly, wary of granny’s proximity. Why do you always enter through the veranda anyways—not the genkan, where the mess would be easier to contain?

You don’t appear deterred, smiling as you hold up a basket. “I brought you grapes, Shin-chan.”

He blinks. “That’s kind,” he admits, “but I don’ want ‘em.”

“Well I do,” Granny’s sweet voice says from behind him. Kita tenses when he hears it, turns to look at her guiltily. Her calm, smiling face makes him uneasy.

He starts to protest, those disagreements he felt a week ago, since the moment she wanted to go to Fujiwara’s, bubble up together. “But gran—”

“Shin-chan,” she cuts him off. Her voice is gentle and soft, but holds a different kind of firmness that Kita can’t deliver. One that makes him listen, because he has to.

“It’s okay,” you say, interrupting the conversation that would have followed. You’re still smiling, unfazed. It flames Kita's annoyance, while calming his nerves. Again, he doesn’t understand these feelings. “I’ll go home if Shin-chan wants me to.”

The boy’s eyes widen at that, heart plummeting as if he’s done something wrong. Why do I care? he immediately wonders. Maybe because granny is watching over his shoulder, or because Fujiwara-san seemed so happy to have his not-actually-grandkid (Kita is still certain) around his house. He doesn’t know what home you’re referring to, Fujiwara’s or the city or…somewhere else. Regardless, it would be easier if you went back and let them rest, granny especially, since she must be tired from the extra chores. He still hasn’t answered, caught between wanting to agree, waiting to disagree. He’s not sure which part of him wants what.

Instead of caving to his irritation for a second time today, he sighs and says, “It’s fine…jus’ wash yer feet.” He realizes he’s resolved to clean up after you so granny doesn’t have to. What is he doing?

“Okay,” you say easily, smiling. That relief fills him once again, and he can only stare at you, as if explanations for that feeling in his chest will surface if he looks hard enough. They don’t.

“Here are the grapes,” you assert, raising them in front of you. He hesitates, staring at them in accusation after he finally grasps the handle of the basket. Then you say: “Okay, bye now!” and run off the veranda, your bare feet landing in the dirt and carrying you along the trail and across the bridge.

Kita watches you with a pained face, and he realizes his free hand lifted slightly, as if reaching for you. He scowls and forces it down. Then he turns to granny. She’s smiling at him, he can sense it’s with amusement. He wants to ask why you left, if you really are going home, wherever that is. But he can’t, not when granny is giving him such a look.

“Stop cleanin’ up after others,” he tells her instead. Granny blinks, wondering why she’s being scolded now, too. “I’ll do it. Jus’…jus’ rest.”

She smiles warmly. “You’re a good kid, Shin-chan.”

Kita doesn’t think so. Not right now, with the way you ran away.

“Some people need time to learn the ways we live,” she continues vaguely. “Not everyone comes from the same place.”

He wonders why someone from the city would run around without shoes, through mud.

That inexplicable relief returns when you stand in the outdoor veranda the next day. He still doesn’t understand why he would want to see you, maybe for the confirmation that his words did not actually send you away—that granny and Fujiwara-san can continue to enjoy your presence. Regardless, he stares pointedly at your feet, the dirt clinging to them.

“Sorry,” you say, with the tact to at least look sheepish this time. “I washed them at Jii-chan’s, but they got dirty again.”

Kita is too stunned to react. Do people from the city not understand how shoes work? Or water? Dirt? He sighs, attempting to find his patience, as he tells you to stay put while he leaves. He grabs two pairs of sandals from the genkan and re-enters the veranda. He slips on one pair, then ushers you to follow him down the steps to the spigot.

“Rinse your feet,” he instructs. You do, poorly, but he supposes he can only ask for so much. He puts the second pair of sandals on the ground and tells you to step your feet in after you rinse. It’s an arduous process, but finally you are mostly clean and in the sandals. He then walks you to the entrance of the genkan and tells you, “Enter here. Wear those shoes when ya visit and put ‘em—” he points to a cubby, “there when ya come in.”

You are smiling, always smiling, when you reply. “Thanks Shin-chan!” Then you kick off your sandals and toss them into the cubby. Kita's chest flares again with displeasure at your haphazard treatment of his things. Suddenly you grab his hand and pull him inside, and all he can think is that your skin is cold. He can’t find it in himself to comment, heart racing as he stumbles and tries to slip off his slides before you tug him to the main room. He watches as your undried feet leave dark prints in the tatami in front of him—he thinks of the mold that has probably started growing under them since your first visit.

He passes granny as you pull him through the rooms. He gives her a wide-eyed look, one that tries to ask for help. She only smiles.

Kita feels a little bad for his outburst, once a few days pass and he understands that you aren’t intentionally helpless. You enter through the genkan, with relatively clean feet. You’re careful when you eat after he points out that you tend to make a mess. You help clean, when he asks you to. You still leave crumbs around and wet patches, you scrub too hard sometimes and other times not enough, but you try. And Kita finds that he doesn’t mind so much anymore.

You just don’t know things.

The more he ruminates on your…unfamiliarity with the world, the less sense your story makes—the city story that Fujiwara-san told him and granny. It’s obviously not true, but it also has to be, if everyone believes it. Someone from the city wouldn’t look so surprised that their feet collect dirt. He recalls that evening a few years ago when he was only two, when he could see you in the river. He thinks about the never-ending feeling of being watched. You’re from here, from him.

It becomes apparent why you’re here, why you hang around him at home and linger in his presence. One night he wakes up hours before sunrise. He struggles to re-enter his slumber and curiously opens the screen facing the river, to gauge the time. The mountains loom behind the image of a small figure on Fujiwara’s veranda. You, offering a little wave.

He doesn’t react, just watches as you swing your feet. The moon sits high between you, illuminating the river below, the mist that lingers on its surface. He wonders if you’ve always been there, why he never saw you until a couple weeks ago.

The spirits are all around us, in every living thing. Granny’s voice calls from his memory.

As he watches you, the river, he wonders what defines a “living thing”— if it’s breath or blood or growth. Something else entirely. He thinks the river breathes; it absorbs the air when it bubbles over rocks. Its blood is the water itself. It grows in its own way, banks expanding and collapsing, body winding and pooling, collecting life, collecting stories and history. He’s curious about your story, why it’s part of his.

He closes the screen and goes back to bed.

Shinsuke is not the kind of person to ask unnecessary questions. Even as a child, he keeps those curiosities within, assuming they’ll be answered eventually. Like granny said, You’ll learn when the time is right.

So he doesn’t ask, instead infers. Analyzes and assumes. You aren’t the same. Throughout the summer, as you spend time together, you are always asking. Asking and smiling. Sometimes they’re necessary questions: how to properly wash a dish, or where to set a gift of vegetables. Most of the time they’re unnecessary, asking how Kita is feeling, what he thinks of the weather. Sometimes they’re downright invasive.

“Where are your parents?” you ask him one hot July day, laying in the main room. Kita is fanning himself and wondering why you aren’t sweating.

“Osaka,” he says curtly. He hasn’t seen them in a while, hasn’t thought about them either.

“Do you miss them?” You ask, nosiness unsatisfied.

He shakes his head, no unnecessary response. He likes it with granny, always misses her the few times he’s gone to the city.

You hum, like you heard his unspoken answer. He thinks that’ll be the end of it. It isn’t.

“Your hair must be a mix of theirs,” you say plainly. “Whose is grey?”

He shakes his head, “Neither.” They both have black hair, the same with his sister who’s never home and his baby brother in the city with a nanny.

You’re surprised. “Oh. Do you know whose it is?”

He shrugs, uncaring.

But you smile for some reason, with genuinely joyful eyes. “Maybe it’s your gran’s,” you say happily. It makes him blink in surprise, mystified. He inhales, chest lighter. “It’s cool how that sort of stuff happens.”

He can’t look away from you, your smile that pierces right through him.

That night after his bath, he looks at himself in the mirror, intense, searching in a way he’s never done before. He sees the traces of his mom in his eyes and his lips, his dad in his nose. Both of them at the tips of his hair, that lower section by his neck. He continues to stare, looking for granny. He sees the way she influenced the nose he got from dad. He sees the way she claimed his hair, cradling his head and framing his eyes and cheeks. He wonders what it means, to be chosen by the traits from a generation before.

When granny says goodnight, Kita puts his arms up for a hug. She’s warm, always is. His head nestles into her neck, his threads of grey and black hair tangling with her sea of silver. He doesn’t know what it means; he is a five year old without the vocabulary to articulate the tightness in his chest, something akin to longing and fear. He is a five year old incapable of grasping what it means to be alive.

Only a couple days later, Kita catches a new perspective of you. 

You are barefoot in the genkan and Kita is ready to scold you, this one he knows is deserved after all he’s taught you. Before he can, you speak.

“Come with me today.”

Your hand is outstretched and inviting, but Kita is apprehensive, not sure what you mean. Before he can ask, granny speaks from behind him. “Go on, Shin-chan.”

He frowns and looks at her. Neither of them know what you’re talking about, where you even want to go. But granny looks calm and assured, without a worry in the world.

You don’t wait for an answer, grasping his hand when he’s still turned away and giving it a tug. He feels that same chilliness on your skin, one that makes him think you might be sick. He manages to protest long enough to step into his slides before you pull him out the door. 

It’s a beautiful day. The sun still hangs to the side, the heat of July not yet settled in the valley. The sky is a bright blue, populated with innocent fluffy clouds, white and rolling in the breeze. A group of sparrows sing in a shrub you two pass, and a toad leaps off the path to get out of your way. Kita inhales deeply, the air humid but clean.

“Where’r we goin’?” he manages to ask, quickening his pace to match yours. Your hand has loosened its grip, but he doesn’t let go.

“The forest!” you cheer easily.

His eyes widen. The forest? He’s been to the forest before, to pick bamboo shoots and tea leaves with granny, but he’s not supposed to go without an adult. Does granny know? Why would she let them go by themselves? These are necessary questions, he thinks, and yet he swallows them down and lets you take him without protest.

You are fast despite being barefoot, rocks and sticks seemingly unnoticed as you dart along the path. Kita follows along diligently, stumbling only a few times. He wishes he wore his athletic shoes instead of the sandals. He glances back to the house, studies the way it shrinks from the distance. The two of you are still on the southern side of the river, not yet crossed to the northern mountains, where granny takes him.

Kita decides that he likes running like this, despite the heat and his shoes. It’s a gentle jog, with a destination in mind, his hand in yours as you lead the way.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, just follows you up and along the path until the two of you reach its end. It’s the first time Kita has seen it, the way it stops before a rock face that climbs up a mountain west from his house. He looks down the path, into the valley from the incline.

He looks back at you, waiting for an explanation for what to do next. You don’t offer one, walking to the bank of the river. To get in the river, he realizes, and for the first time since leaving granny’s he tries to pull away.

You turn back to him, smiling softly. “Trust me, Shin-chan,” you say.

He’s not sure why he should, why he did, to let you take him all the way out here in the first place. Because of granny’s encouragement, he thinks. Go on, she said. Did that mean all the way? To the ends of wherever you wanted him?

You have turned and continued down the bank. Kita does not try to escape your grasp, letting you pull him along.

The water of the river rushes over his feet, cool and surprising. It runs up his ankles, his shins, his knees, and finally his thighs. You are leading him forwards, upstream and past the rock face that marks the end of the trail. His toes bump rocks covered in algae, slipping and wavering as he wades slowly. You, however, are sturdy, never faltering with your sure steps.

You approach a pile of rocks, scrambling over them to bring yourself back onto land. You help hoist Kita after you. He pauses when he steps onto the forest floor, the softness catching him off guard. He looks down to see reddish-brown piles of pine needles coating the ground, dotted with lush bundles of ferns and patches of vibrant moss. The land rolls gently, small and soft hills of fallen pine covering rocks and dirt and life. A mist lingers from the proximity of the water, the sun pulling the moisture into the air. The scenery is dark, quiet from the hazy canopy above. Kita inhales deeply in attempt to regulate his exhausted panting, the essence of wood and mint taking over him. He is in awe, not used to being swaddled in pine. The forests here are mostly a mix of leafy trees, oaks and maples and chestnuts, with pockets of bamboo. Not secret havens of sweetness and tang.

You tug him along, bouncing through the fluff of the soft ground. He follows, eyes wide and soaking in the scenery, wanting to memorize every moment. You show him your enchanted forest, its mysterious darkness splattered with occasional sun that manages to seep through. He spots a white hare leaping away, watches birds flutter from the trees. At one point you guide him to cross the river on a fallen tree, green with moss and bundles of young sedge. Behind your skipping form he walks carefully, arms outstretched for balance.

His heart freezes when he steps down onto the other side, catching sight of a grey wolf waiting its turn. He clutches your hand as the creature steps forwards, two smaller ones following. They look at him blankly before leaping onto the natural bridge, continuing their own journey without looking back.

When he turns to you, you are smiling, and tug him forwards once more. The sun starts to stream in, brightening as pines transition to those oak and maple and chestnut trees. The ground is no longer soft, but firm dirt and clumps of rocks, leading to one larger slab of jagged earth that juts out from the mountain entirely.

You step out into the sun and he follows, taking in the view in front of him.

He is not at the peak of the mountain, maybe halfway there, but the outlook forces him to understand the vastness of the valley. He can see the large span of the mountains as they roll and crawl in the distance, his house a small square along others. The river is more apparent, winding intensely down the mountain and softening into a gentle curve next to the village. He can see crop fields and the road that has taken him to Osaka before.

You speak, the first time since bringing him into the water, “Some people climb mountains to look from above. I like when I still feel inside of it, can still see what’s happening.”

Kita thinks he understands, remembers the way the mountains from his house are like a promising wall, a guardian. How the depth of the valley cradles him. He thinks of the hare and the birds, the wolves, the journey here striking wonder and awe into his heart. He recalls that feeling of being watched, your gaze always near.

The sun approaches its peak in the sky, nearly noon. It illuminates the valley, brings light into the forest behind them. Kita watches it light up your face, already bright from your joyful expressions.

“Happy birthday, Shin-chan,” you tell him, taking him by surprise. He forgot, in the excitement of the past hours with you. Granny gave him some books this morning as a gift. You’re giving him the forest. His smile is small and reserved, but it’s the first time he offers one back to you.

He thinks he understands now: what you meant when you said home.

The sight of your back with a hand pulling him along defines the next year. After you show Kita the forest, he trusts you wholly, no doubt that you will look after him. He is happily tugged again and again into that realm of magic. He encounters more animals—badgers and pigs, bears and herons. In the winter he sees foxes and macaques. The river freezes and snow becomes the new carpet of the forest. You don’t shiver either, he learns.

You take him to the summit once, so he can see the view. The pine transitions to a highland, bald of trees and instead coated in grass and shrubs. It’s beautiful, a clear day when the entirety of the valley is visible and he can spot granny’s home, how it sits across from Fujiwara-san’s. When he looks up, there is only the blue of the sky, not a single speck of cloud coverage. They stay until dark and watch the Milky Way span across the blackness of night, its subtle hues of pinks and blues, the way meteors shower down in flashes.

He watches life rise from the ground when the weather warms once again, as seedlings sprout and newborn animals wander through the land. Flowers bloom, coating pockets of earth in the full spectrum of light. He is witness to deer learning to walk, stumbling awkwardly over roots and rocks. He sees the other clumsy ways animals go about the world, how a sparrow drops its worm, how a duck trips and rolls into the river behind its mother. He collects these moments in his memory, happy to observe, solely to understand.

And you observe him, because Kita knows that is what you are meant to do. He still doesn’t know who you are, or why him, but he feels your eyes constantly. He doesn’t admit it, but they are comforting.

On the days you two are not parading in the mountain, you are still usually in each other’s presence. Kita no longer reads while you look over his shoulder or sit on the other side of the room. He reads to you, the books granny rents him from the library. You like to lay on the veranda while he sits and swings his feet, paying close attention to pronouncing the words. He still cleans up after you, since you never fully get the hang of doing things yourself. It’s only crumbs and small puddles, untidy blankets or cushions, an untucked chair at the table after dinner. He finds himself volunteering to take granny’s extra harvest of leeks to Fujiwara-san’s, under the pretense that he wants her to rest.

He walks there briskly, and stays for an additional hour. You have a lot to say, your nosiness still strong even after nearly a year.

“Jii-chan told me you’re starting school soon,” you say, eating one of the leeks. He watches you chew the entirety of it, uncooked. Some water squeezes out and dribbles onto the floor.

“In April,” he replies. April is two weeks away. It’s when he’ll go to Osaka. He’s supposed to stay there for the week leading up to school to prepare. He gets the sense that you’re leaving too.

You don’t look sad, and his shoulders feel tense when he notices. He’s not sure why.

Kita doesn’t ever ask unnecessary questions, but right now he is compelled to ask you many things. Sometimes it seems like you understand what he’s thinking, but you never respond unless he says it outright. As a result, he never gets to know.

He surprises both himself and you when he asks, “Are ya goin’ to school, too?” He already knows you aren’t.

You shake your head. He wants to ask why, wants to ask if you’re going somewhere else. He wants to know if you’ll be here when he comes back during break. He wants to figure out why you came in the first place.

Another question: “Are ya goin’ home?”

You nod your head this time. He watches you, thinking you’ll return to the pine forest. You shake your head when he thinks it, and give him the reprieve of elaborating. “The river.”

He frowns, confused. The river? You were always in the forest, guiding him along its greenery. He thinks about how he has to wade upstream to enter the forest in the west. He recalls the memory from years ago, a child in the water watching him. 

“I came from the forest,” you try to explain, “but the water’s my home now.”

Kita is reminded that he was born in Osaka, but would always rather be at granny’s house in the northern mountains.

It’s hard for him to leave granny’s, more than any time before. When the driver comes to get him and he squeezes in the back with granny, he looks out the window towards Fujiwara’s house. You sit on the veranda, waving while your legs swing. This time the sun is high in the sky and the river releases a blinding reflection. When the car drives away and he can no longer see you, his chest hurts.

Osaka does not make it easier. His mother coos at how big he’s grown while his father watches disinterested. Kita is shown his baby brother, now a toddler awkwardly walking around and speaking. Kita doesn’t know how to talk to him, but he tries. He says hello to his sister—who he hasn’t seen since she decided to stay in the city—when she finally makes an appearance at dinner. Granny stays for the meal and the night, and then leaves in the morning.

That night, the second one in Osaka, he cries while laying in bed. He isn’t sure why, the feelings simply overwhelming and in need of release. The squishy mattress in a raised bed frame doesn’t comfort him. He thinks about you, about granny. The mountains and the forest. The river. When he looks outside his window—a square of glass punched through plaster walls—he only sees pavement and blocks of concrete. Other homes, maybe with other children crying for reasons they can’t explain. There is no mountain in the distance or river running along the ground. The sky is hazy, no stars in sight. The only twinkling comes from his own eyes, his teary squinting blurring streetlights and windows with every blink. Each time his eyes close, for a moment he thinks he can see you.

If Shinsuke is one thing, he is malleable. He can fit himself into environments, his adherence to routine giving him a means of finding comfort no matter where he is placed. Responsibility grounds him, distracts him. He can redirect his energy to doing well in school, looking after his brother. These things feel good to him, to simply do them well.

Even though you are not with him, he can feel your eyes at all times. He is reminded of being at granny’s, her washing the floor as she tells him that the spirits are everywhere, always watching. He finds himself cleaning up after his brother, thinking of you. He wonders what you think, if you’re reminded of the same.

School is as alien as Osaka, with its concrete exterior and plastered walls. They are painted white and lined with large sheets of glass. They slide open, but only for students to shout at their friends outside, not to let the morning air in. 

In class, he sits quietly at his desk and listens to the teacher. He doesn't talk with other students or pass notes under the desk. He doesn’t even wonder about you, the feeling of your eyes always on him. He watches the teacher closely, diligently records the lessons. He watches other students, gathering first impressions and additional observations. He notices the way some of them doze off or scribble in their books. He sees the meaningful glances some make to each other, usually girls as they eye each other and specific boys in the class.

When he studies for his first exam, he thinks that he can feel you in the room with him. First looking over his shoulder—a cool breeze wafting from behind him, and then laying on his bed—the sheets oddly chilly when he goes to sleep. He remembers how you sat by him while he read aloud just a few weeks ago. He murmurs to himself as he reviews information, wondering if you can hear him.

Kita scores at the top of his class. He doesn’t feel anything when teachers congratulate him and other students whine. There is no pride in his chest or sense of satisfaction at the results. He thinks back to his nights studying, your presence lingering over him. It just feels good, he thinks, to do things well. The process of trying and dedicating himself to something.

He makes a routine out of it, delegating time after school to review material. It falls easily into his schedule, after dinner and before he readies for bed. He still has time to play with his brother, usually reading or offering him toys. His sister is always gone, either busy with club activities or friends. His parents get home late too, but they usually manage to have a full family dinner.

They’re eating quietly, having debriefed their days as they reach the end of their meal. Kita glances at his family, realizing that they’re different from the people at school. He’s known them for his whole life, people without first impressions and instead ingrained understandings. He looks at them intently, notices the way they eat, listens to the way they speak. He knows them intuitively, no running list in his mind to keep track of information. He is reminded of the time you asked about his hair, and he stares at his mom, then his dad. His mom’s hair is long and brown, artificially lightened from its original dark color. His dad’s is black with a sprinkling of silver from age. Kita wonders if his will do the opposite when he grows old.

There’s another exam the following week, this one for his science class. Kita is the first one in the classroom, watching students filter in. The boy who sits next to him—Daiki, tall and skinny—plops down with a sigh just a few minutes before the teacher is supposed to arrive.

“Gahh, I’m so nervous,” he says to Kita, laying his head on the desk. When Kita doesn’t respond, he asks, “Are you?”

Kita shakes his head at that, not sure why he would be. He studied. 

When the results come back after a few days Daiki whines that Kita is a goody-goody, trying his hardest to get the teacher’s attention. Kita looks at his full marks and once again feels nothing. He thinks it is the natural result of his efforts. He wonders what you would say, if he could talk to you. He thinks you would ask nosey questions about his siblings. It makes his chest feel hollow.

Some kids try to be his friend, or at least try to talk to him. But he’s quiet, not very eloquent or forgiving with his words, and so they eventually leave him alone. He thinks about how you diligently stood by him, how you smiled when he scolded you.

When he gets home and returns to his room, it is exactly as he left it. There are no crumbs to sweep or puddles to wipe. His brother is out with the nanny, but he feels restless, the need to do something. He thinks he can get started on his homework early, pulling out his notebooks and folders. He can’t focus on the words, eyes skimming the pages without understanding. He knows that studying now is futile, and decides to continue later. He settles on bathing early instead.

His bath draws on, longer than usual. He finds himself pausing, getting lost in thought—though more lost in feeling, since his mind drifts blankly. He’s still restless by the time he finishes, but slightly relaxed. He stands to wrap himself with the towel and steps carefully onto the bath rug. Once he’s dried and his towel is secure around his waist, he leans over to pull the plug and let the water drain. Just as he grasps it, there’s a lurch of water that spills out and onto the floor. His eyes widen in disbelief and his chest flares with annoyance knowing he will have to clean the mess. He looks at the floor incredulously before turning back to the bath and—

His eyes widen further, mouth opening slightly at the sight of you—a misty figure over the water. You’re wearing a sheepish expression as you lean over the edge to assess the mess.

“Sorry,” you say quietly. Kita's disbelief increases at the sound of your voice. “I’m still getting the hang of it.”

Kita slams the plug back down and stands to face you clearly. He feels the water pooled at his feet, but all irritation has fled his body. Instead he is filled with a warmth, a contrast to the coolness wafting from you.

“You made a mess,” he tells you, unnecessarily. You know that already.

“Yeah,” you say. You apologize again.

“Don’ do it again,” he tries to scold. His body wants to step forward, to reach you. He’s not sure why, and he frowns with skepticism.

You nod, then lift your leg experimentally. When it’s pulled above the water, there are no droplets falling. Instead, you appear airy, like the water sits around your body. You step out and onto the bathroom floor, successfully avoiding increasing the mess. You smile brightly at your success. Kita continues to watch, wondering if you’ll disappear, evaporate at any moment. You look at the water on the floor and then meet his eyes, smile turning sheepish again.

“I should mop,” you tell him, breaking him from his quiet spell.

“I’ll do it,” he says immediately. “Jus’...jus’ don’ go anywhere.”

You nod.

Mopping helps him calm down, perhaps needing a task to manage his agitation. You watch, and then follow him to his room once he’s finished. He dresses while you distractedly rummage through his things, then walks over to you at his desk. He feels a wetness under his foot and looks down, seeing footprints scattered along the floor. They’re light and clearly yours, and he ignores them, continuing over to you.

“You can go back to studying,” you tell him.

He can’t bring himself to look away. He’s not sure why, chest tight with anticipation.

There’s a knock at the door, mom’s sign that dinner is ready. The noise startles you and there is a poof, the sound of you evaporating into mist, wafting up to the ceiling. Gone. The only traces of you are those faint, damp footprints and few misplaced items on his desk.

For the first time in a long time, Kita feels a sinking disappointment.

Adolescence

Contrary to what he expected, Kita doesn’t leave Osaka during break. His parents think it would be good for him to have a consistent lifestyle. Kita doesn’t protest, but he can feel a heaviness in his stomach. He asks about granny, if he’ll see her soon. They tell him she will visit some time, and she does, though rarely. He thinks about the forest and the mountains, when he’ll see them again.

On the first day of fourth grade, Kita wakes up on time. He uses the toilet, washes his face, brushes his teeth, and changes his clothes at his usual pace. As he splashes cool water along his forehead and cheeks, he is reminded of your touch and wonders if he will see you this morning. He often finds himself waiting, without realizing until a significant amount of time has already passed. You are irregular and unpredictable. It puts him on edge, that you might disrupt his perfectly crafted routine.

He is the first to sit down for breakfast and the first one to finish, everyone else but his mother just having started. He stands to put his dishes away and gather his school things when she rushes into the room. She’s fumbling with her shoe, trying to get it in place while collecting her things to fill her purse. Her face brightens when she sees him and asks about his first day, if he’s excited or nervous.

Kita shakes his head, neither. He’s been going to school nearly everyday for years now, what reason would he have to be nervous? What’s to be excited for?

He turns to leave, but she calls for him. She asks if he’s planning to join a club.

He shakes his head again, not sure why he should.

But his mother protests, “I think it’d be good for you to do a sport. You don’t exercise much, with all the studying.”

His father hums in agreement from the table and his sister stands to excuse herself. His brother knocks his bowl over, spoon clattering to the ground. Without hesitation, Kita walks over to return it.

“Just try one, okay?” his mom asks. Kita nods in response before finally leaving. 

In his room, he gathers his books and school supplies into his backpack, double checking that everything is there. He slips it over his shoulders and then turns to the window. It’s translucent with a sheen of moisture from inside. He wipes it away and glances at the sky. It’ll probably rain, he gauges. As he steps away from the window to leave, he catches a glimpse of you in the reflection.

His first day of school is like any other, spent seated at his desk near the center of the room, watching the teacher, observing his classmates. He diligently helps clean at the end of the day: sweeping duty, not missing a single spot. Once finished, he changes his shoes and makes for the exit. Some students say goodbye, and he nods in return. He can hear the soft pattering of rain as he approaches the door, and pops open his umbrella before stepping outside.

The walk home is quiet, with occasional groups of students chattering by. Kita walks at his typical pace, unrushed. He hears his shoes tap against the pavement with each step, the plopping of raindrops above his head. The occasional car rushes by, veering aside to avoid splashing him. He runs through a mental list of what he needs to do for school, but it’s short given it being the first day.

When he’s only a few minutes from home, he hears splashing behind him, as if someone is running through a puddle. You, calling his name.

He doesn’t turn to look, but his steps slow while his heart speeds, giving you time to catch up. Within a few seconds you are by his side, your now-usual misty and translucent figure at his side. You smile when he glances at you, but he appears unfazed. You’re unbothered as you walk with him, light on your feet.

When he reaches the door of his home and unlocks it, you let yourself in first. He closes his umbrella and gives it a shake before setting it on the rack. While he removes his shoes in the genkan, he eyes the light trail of footprints you left on your way to his room. He leaves them, knowing they’ll evaporate before anyone else comes home. He stops by the kitchen, dumping a bag of carrots onto a small plate, and then he briskly enters his room and closes the door behind him.

He sees you laying on his bed and he feels an itch of annoyance, knowing the sheets will be damp. But he doesn’t say anything, instead setting the plate on his desk and sliding his bag onto the floor. You smile and ask how his day was.

This has become part of Kita's routine, your irregular visits. He walks through life with an anxious anticipation, waiting for you to come. He is relieved when you appear, but he is never entirely pleased. There’s a warmth in his chest regardless, one that reminds him of granny.

He wonders if maybe that’s why he accepts the interruption so easily, because it momentarily brings him home, his life in the mountains, granny’s voice telling him that someone is watching over him. He knows that someone is you. He wonders if granny knows about your visits, if you ever tell her about him.

His answers are short, per usual. But he talks about his classes, his classmates, how mom wants him to join a club. He knows that you know all this, but he says it anyways, gives into you.

“Do you know what club you’ll join?” you ask.

He shrugs. “A sport, since I should exercise.”

You nod at that, “It’s too bad the forest is so far away. Exploring is good exercise.”

Kita thinks about the forest often, seeping into his spare time when he’s not caught up in classes or the growing responsibilities of life. He’s heard from mom about wildfires in Hyogo, ones that spring at random in the dryness of summertime. Luckily nothing near home, but still within the province. He recounts those memories of rabbits and monkeys, remembers the flowers that are blooming right about now. He's curious if it’s raining, how visible the stars are tonight. These questions bring a pain to his chest, one he can’t explain, one that doesn’t make sense. Sometimes he calls granny and the pain goes away. Sometimes it gets worse.

When you’re in his room with him like this, he thinks it’s a different pain entirely.

Eventually your questions lull and Kita knows that this is his queue to start his schoolwork. He doesn’t have much to do, though. Instead he wants to ask a question of his own. You can tell, and you wait.

He doesn’t know how to phrase it, so he never asks. As a result, you never answer.

A week later the school allows them to pick clubs. Kita looks at the other hopeful kids as they play rock-paper-scissors for a spot for the popular sports: basketball, football, baseball. He eyes the groups that are smaller, have less interest. The running club looks crowded, so he makes his way over. He still has to do a round of rock-paper-scissors, and he’s one of the three who have to find another option. To his right is another small group, and he asks to join without knowing what they are. Volleyball, apparently. He’s not sure if he’ll be any good, but he figures it’s only for the year and he can try something different in fifth grade.

Volleyball, it turns out, is difficult. He learns how to receive a ball, but it flies in the opposite direction of where he wants it to go. He watches the other players, trying to understand how to improve himself.

Volleyball, it turns out, is technical and requires a lot of practice to sharpen his skills. He diligently attends practice, two days a week for fourth-graders. The coaches appreciate his efforts, how he runs his full laps and takes every suggestion seriously. Kita finds that he just enjoys the process of training, improving his abilities and caring for his body. His legs feel tired at the end of the day and it reminds him of running through the forest. It reminds him of his efforts, makes him feel good.

Volleyball, it turns out, is the perfect distraction. From you.

It becomes part of his routine, filling in the gaps of time that he normally finds himself waffling in, waiting for you. He learns to walk through everyday as if it’s the same, just himself, but allows it to shuffle when you make an appearance. 

Volleyball helps as he enters middle school and your visits lose frequency. Your lack of presence, however, makes the feeling of your gaze on him even stronger. He feels it every time he’s on the court—though he only ever plays games in practice. He in turn watches his teammates, their ticks and habits. He watches his opponents, offers notes to his team about patterns and flaws in their styles. He’s not a powerhouse like the standout players, doesn’t have any exceptional talent, and so despite his hard work and consistent practice, he doesn’t play a single game, doesn’t even receive a jersey.

You ask him about it one evening, on break before high school starts.

“Are you going to join the volleyball club?” you ask, to which he nods. It makes you hum as you sit on his bed. He can see the wall behind you, how it darkens slightly from the moisture of your form leaning against it. 

“I hope you get the chance to play more,” you tell him honestly. “I don’t know why they don’t let you.”

But it means nothing to him, that sort of attention and recognition. He just plays to play the game, do the drills, learn the mechanics—to take care of himself. You know this, but you like watching him, the way he watches the game, moves with it, into it.

He doesn’t say anything in response, knowing that you know what he thinks.

Instead of pushing further, you change the subject. “I’m not going to be able to visit very often,” you tell him. You sound regretful, and his chest is agitated. He thinks of the fires, happening at random across the country.

“I know,” he tells you. He could sense it, recognized the increasing infrequency of your presence. He wants to ask why, but he can’t get the words out, for whatever reason.

You look at him closely and say, “I’ll be around though.”

He nods at that. He knows.

Inarizaki is a prestigious school, known for academics and athletics alike. Kita makes it in easily with his grades, and joins the volleyball club despite knowing he will likely never play in a match. The coaches note that Kita is inexperienced in competition, but they know an asset when they see one. His skills are too sturdy, too well-practiced for Inarizaki to not take advantage of him.

During his first year, he hardly plays. Even so, he is the first at practice, one of the last ones to leave, and the most diligent athlete on the team. He runs the entire length of the track, finishes every rep during weight training, and completes every drill and penalty without complaint. The coaches find that he does not have star power—he is unassuming and ordinary—but he is exceptional in his efforts, and his efforts meet returns when it counts, when they need him on the court as his usual Kita-san.

Some of the older players tease him for his diligence, others admire him because of it. Everyone realizes that he pays no mind to what they think, only ever doing what he wants, what fits his values. He respects his elders even when he disagrees with them, but he is blunt with his fellow first years, unafraid to call out their behavior, especially if it contradicts something they’ve said before. Some say it’s rich coming from him, someone who only warms the bench.

Aran is the one who talks to him, one day in the locker room. A tense conversation between Michinari and Shinsuke unraveled earlier when Kita commented on how the libero attempted too many unpracticed receives in-game, that he should have stuck to underhand until he perfected his overhand off the court. Michi has a temper, and his frustration was pushed by the spiker’s comment. He shouted that Kita wouldn’t understand, that he hasn’t been put in a game, hasn’t had the opportunity to feel the pressures of expectation.

Aran lingered when the others filed out of the locker room—partially to make sure Kita was okay, and partially to suggest he cool it with the critique.

“Don’t take it to heart,” he offers. “Akagi-san gets bad nerves. He knows what he needs to do.”

“I don’t understand the point of being nervous,” Kita responds.

A machine, Aran thinks. This guy is a machine. He says as much, and thinks there’s truth to Michi’s comments, that Kita must not understand because he’s never played in a match that counted.

But Kita explains—that it doesn’t make sense if you’ve practiced the skills and know your capabilities. That it’s the same with eating, shitting even. He thinks Michi’s underhand receives are enough, that they have saved the ball from Inarizaki’s own powerhouses in practice. Why would he need to try anything else?

Aran’s eyes widen as Kita speaks, starting to understand his perspective. It becomes apparent that his criticism towards Michi was more of a poorly delivered compliment: that their first-year libero is enough as he is, that he could save them with the tools he knows—he doesn’t need miracles. This glimpse into Kita puts Aran’s teammate in a new light, recontextualizes his diligent attitude towards their training and the criticism he gives his peers. He trusts the process, knows that the results will follow suit.

Aran begins to notice how Kita fades to the back, his presence unassuming on its own. Kita does not play for recognition or adulation, he simply does what needs to be done. His diligence to get every ball in the air goes unnoticed when the flashy ace pulls an impressive cross against three blockers—a move that would not have been possible without Kita, committed behind him. But Kita doesn’t care, doesn’t ask for attention. 

Aran already held immense respect for his teammate, for his repetition, diligence, and perseverance. But now he feels a special type of awe when he watches him more closely.

Kita does not make a fuss of convincing others of his praiseworthy traits, but Aran takes it upon himself to point them out to his team, to give new context to Kita's seemingly harsh words. Slowly but surely, they will understand, too.

What Aran doesn’t know is that Kita feels like he has already been noticed and recognized, always has been and always will be, at every moment—by you.

(Your eyes continue to bore into him no matter where he is. They feel stronger the longer he goes without seeing you. Your visits are few and far between, but he has his routine, knows to follow it independently and let it shape around your irregularity.)

The following season, a handful of talented first years join, including a freakishly synchronized twin duo and a sly middle blocker. They fight with each other. Some of them cut corners. One particularly troublesome one likes to work himself through illness, inspiring misguided awe in other first years. Kita as a second year has no qualms scolding his teammates, now sometimes including his upperclassmen. The underclassmen pout and grumble while the elders know the intent resting behind his abrasion. 

You only visit him twice during the school year, both times at the hotel for nationals. The first is during the Interhigh National Tournament; he is sitting in the tub at the end of the day, running through his observations of other teams he saw, considering what would be useful to share with the others, to exploit. His head is resting on the ledge of the tub, staring at the blank ceiling as a canvas for him to visualize what he saw: bad crosses, a fragile ego, delayed timing for a back attack. He thinks about the team they’re playing tomorrow, the most imperative information to note. He thinks he should finish bathing so he can write it down.

When he straightens his head to look forward, he jolts in surprise, water splashing out and onto the bathroom floor.

You’re there, sitting on the other end of the bath in your misty form. Your eyes are wide, head turning to look at the puddles on the tile. Kita can’t even consider the mess, body tense at your proximity. He’s never been flustered around you before, never felt strange about his nakedness if you appeared after a bath. It’s been a long time since you’ve come from a bath. And this—this is a closeness and intimacy he has never imagined. You, sharing the water, right beside him. He is frozen when your eyes move back to his face.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper, and he recalls another variable to add to the situation: Aran, likely still in their shared room.

Kita shakes his head, not knowing what to say. “You—” he stutters, unlike him. “What’re ya doin’.” Ever since middle school you only appeared in the rain. He didn’t know bathtubs were even still a…vessel of transportation.

You smile. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Kita blinks, torn between the urge to scold you, the urge to reach for you, and the urge to make you leave before Aran learns of your presence. He finds it exhausting, the way you pit these conflicting pieces of him against each other.

Instead he tells you, “I probably won’ play.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “You’re doing it right now.” The analysis of his opponents, you mean.

A sound at the door makes you jolt, the water softly rippling around you. It’s Aran, asking if things are okay. He doesn’t comment further, but he swears he hears the murmuring of voices.

Kita calls back that he’s fine, just about to get out and be done for the night. He gives you a look afterwards, a sign that you can’t stay. He wishes you could.

You surprise him by leaning forwards, reaching for him. He is suddenly swept into your chilly embrace, arms wrapping around his shoulders. His body is tense, on edge from the intimacy, but he only feels your body above the water, arms and chest and head as it settles into his neck. Despite your cold temperature, Kita's body heats at the contact.

“I’ll see you,” you say, and then you are mist, dispersing into the air.

When Kita exits the bathroom, Aran thinks for the first time that he looks amused—a mirth settled in his eyes and his lips slightly quirked.

A few months later during the Spring High Nationals, you appear in his room, again shared with Aran. Luckily the spiker is out for the moment, allowing Kita the freedom to speak with you. He’s getting dressed from the bath while you flop onto his bed. When he finishes he stands over you, inquiring why you came.

“To wish you luck again.”

Where you’re laying on the bed, his hand hangs by his hip only inches from your face. He is called to reach for it, hold it gently. He’s not sure why but this visit makes him uneasy, like it could be the last. He wonders if these are nerves.

The sound of the key opening the door interrupts his thinking. You have already faded into the air by the time Aran enters, followed by the twins barreling their way past him.

Atsumu (the obnoxious) immediately makes for Kita's bed. He flops down onto it, not unlike how you did minutes before, but immediately tenses and shrieks. He rolls himself off, pushing Kita back from where he was standing, all while shouting, “Kitaaa! Why’s it wet—”

Kita thinks he should thank you, next time you visit.

You don’t visit again.

Rather, Kita goes home to you. He decides to leave for break instead of sticking around for club practice, a choice he’s never made since he started volleyball. Something in him calls to visit granny. So at the end of March he boards the train headed towards the north station, and then hails a ride to the village. Granny is home when he arrives, and she marvels at how tall he is, not having seen him since she visited in middle school.

He towers over her small figure, awkwardly hunching in a hug. Granny says that he’ll be a big help with his height, and over the next day she sets him to dust the high shelves and put away dishes. She comments that he can move the table in the main room all on his own, no longer small, five year old Shin-chan.

The ease Kita feels in himself when he is here, with granny in the mountains, is undeniably because this is his home. He is malleable, shapeable to the life he’s lived in Osaka, but this is where he should be. He knows that when he enters this final year of high school, he will be given a sheet that asks for his three career plans. With his grades and diligent work ethic, he knows that he can put himself on any path and make it work. But in this moment, in granny’s embrace, the warmth of a home lined with screens and tatami, Kita knows that he wants to be here, no matter what.

That night he lays out his futon, smoothing out the creases and carefully lining it to be perpendicular with the wall. He smiles, this routine of preparing his bed one of many things he missed in the city. Before he lays down, he is overcome by the feeling of being watched. He turns to the screens that lead outside, towards the river. He walks over and opens them, looking into the darkness of the night.

The moon hangs low in the sky—a crescent, a smile. It shines softly on the water, Fujiwara-san’s house behind it, and the form of the mountains beyond. You aren’t there, but the river is misty, a bluish haze settling thickly on its surface.

In the morning he decides to go for a run, an attempt to maintain conditioning while he’s gone from practice. He goes left—west—towards your mountain.

The jog is peaceful, with March air cool and crisp against his skin. He is calmed by the sound of the water rushing next to him, running the opposite way. There are birds singing when he passes and a small hare jets by his feet. Running feels like a trip through his memory, recounting the times he tried to keep up with your pace, the adventures you went on together. He is running through the blue of wanderlust, along the breathing water and between the distant mountains, under the bright sky above him. He is running through the green of nostalgia, the lush vegetation, stalks of bamboo and solid trees, mostly oak and maple and chestnut, but occasionally the mysterious pine.

He is running to you.

It isn’t apparent until he reaches the end of the path, to that rock face at the foot of the mountain, and you are there—in the flesh—waiting in the river. The water is cold during spring, and yet you smile warmly, unfazed by the temperature. When he takes your hand to let you guide him through the water, through soft pine and hazy light, your touch is cool and refreshing against his—hot from exertion.His heart lurches at the contact, an inexplicable mix of tightness and lightness blooming in his chest. He can’t tell if it’s hollowing him out or overfilling him. It feels like hello and farewell all at once. There is a knot in his stomach, one that feels like nerves. It is exhilarating, magnetizing, like falling into you completely. He lets himself. He has no other option.

You come back with him to granny’s and have breakfast together. She doesn’t say anything, only calls you “dear” and thanks you for your help cleaning up. She does not mention Fujiwara and neither do you. Kita feels whole, sitting on the floor at this table.

At night you sit and watch as he prepares his futon. He looks at you and asks, “D’ya need one?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Don’t sleep.”

He nods before getting up to turn off the light. He opens the soft blanket and lays down. He turns to you, hesitating. He wants to know if you’re staying, if you’ll be here all night. Part of him wants to invite you to lay next to him.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you curiously.

You are smiling over him, as always. One of your hands reaches to smooth back his hair and he softens. Even with your skin always cold, his body will forever warm at your touch.

These days continue and Kita feels light, enjoying time with you, as a person. His questions fade after he succumbs to focusing on soaking in your presence. It feels good, not unlike the satisfaction of completing his daily rituals.

He looks at you closely, the way you’ve grown with him. You are still smiling, still diligent in ways that he initially failed to see as a five year old. Watchful, joyful. He doesn’t feel the smile on his face, a small one that granny notices. You are smiling too, as you take dishes he’s finished washing and run a rag across their surface. You miss some spots, little droplets sticking to the ceramic. Some fly off and land on the floor and counter.

Kita is entirely at ease. It is quaint, quiet, content.

After a few moments, you suddenly pause your drying and turn thoughtfully, towards the river. Kita watches as the faintest furrow appears between your brows, your face both pensive and concerned. You drop the rag on the counter and step away. He stares curiously, still scrubbing a plate.

“I’ll be back in a second,” you say. Nothing else, no unnecessary information. 

Fear germinates in his chest, his heartbeat picking up speed. Granny smiles at him, reassured. He wonders how she retains her calm demeanor.

When nearly ten minutes pass and you don't return, Kita tells granny he’s going to check on you. She nods in understanding as he slips on his sandals and exits through the genkan. He spots you immediately, standing between the house and the river. You’re facing the northern mountains with a frown on your face. Kita realizes this is the first time he’s seen you anything but joyful.

You answer his silent question when he stands beside you, “There’s something wrong.”

“In the forest?” he clarifies. You nod, looking onwards. He watches you for a silent minute, the way you study the sky over the ridge. 

“I think…” you start. Pause. “You should leave, with your gran. And everyone else.”

Kita's brow furrows as he looks at you skeptically. You turn to him, eyes unwavering. You never look this serious. Always nosy, unnecessary questions. Lighthearted. Messes on the floor.

“Shinsuke,” you say firmly. He startles at the sound of his full name. “Tell everyone there’s a fire—in the northern mountains. I’ll try to keep it at bay, but it’s spreading. By the time they see it, it’ll be too late. If you can evacuate the houses on the other side of the river before it’s visible, things should be okay.”

He feels a strike in his lungs, like he’s gasping for breath. He wants to ask for details, but you’ve made it clear there’s no time. You are grabbing him, your cool hand holding his wrist, as you start towards the bridge in a run. He is momentarily brought back to his sixth birthday, running behind you as you guide him along the path to the base of a mountain—your mountain. He remembers thinking that running behind you was fun.

This time you are serious, almost panicked, bringing him across the river and pointing at the houses, which ones he should evacuate first. The ones with the oldest people. Fujiwara-san is one of them. You let go of his hand and run, sprint towards the base of the mountain. He feels panicked, wondering how long it’ll take for you to come back. What it means for you to keep the fire at bay. You fade away, the blue of distance settling between you two, mistiness.

The next moments are a blur. He knocks on doors and is greeted by elders he hasn’t seen in years, ready to exclaim at how he’s grown. Their coos are interrupted by his apologies, an explanation that he got news of a wildfire and wants to make sure people have time to evacuate. He suggests that they get into their cars and head east near the highway, and to wait for official advice for next steps. He says the words, but they don’t fully register when his mind is still occupied with the memory of you sprinting to the danger. The families look at him skeptically, but they get a move on when they remember this is Shin-chan, the quiet and good-natured village boy.

He makes his way down the homes to relay the news. He asks neighbors to tell the others, and to call emergency services. There are 26 homes on this side of the river, and by the time he knocks on half the doors, smoke hangs over the mountains. No fire is in sight, but the signs are there. It makes the next conversations much quicker, and he is relieved as he watches cars pile out towards the highway.

Suddenly an alarm starts blaring. The emergency intercoms spaced along the neighborhood release a sharp and repeating warning sound. A deep voice calls out between the noise, commanding evacuation. Kita's breath is labored from the exertion of running between houses, but his chest feels lighter knowing that his responsibility has been lifted.

By the time he crosses the bridge back to granny’s home, the sky has darkened significantly, black smog blowing along and spewing upwards. There’s the slight lick of a flame creeping over the ridge and he feels his heart begin to gallop. His stomach clenches roughly when his mind flashes with images of the western mountain forest, deer and wolves and rabbits and birds. Flowers and pine and ferns. He glances that way and sees that it’s still untouched, for now.

He runs inside granny’s, calling for her to get in a neighbor’s car, since she doesn’t own one herself. She stands slowly, at her elderly pace, and Kita is restless as he helps her exit the house as quickly as she can. He takes another glance at the mountains and his heart plummets at the sight. The fire has crept over the ridge, and he can hear the distant crackling as it runs forward. Kita's eyes trail down to a figure by the bank on the opposite end of the river and recognizes you. His chest constricts with relief and concern at the sight. He tells granny to walk down to the next door neighbor, to see if she can evacuate with them. He has to lower his head to her ear so he can be heard over the sounds of the sirens and the voice on the intercom.

He starts jogging towards the bridge, to cross it, but you yell his name. It’s loud and fierce, a demand to stay put. It has a firmness that forces him to listen.

His feet stop, now directly across from you. He can see your face, the intensity in your glare. You’ve never looked at him this way.

“Don’t come!” you yell, voice almost lost over the commotion.

Kita is frowning, brow furrowed and mouth open in disbelief. He doesn’t have time to yell back before you continue.

“You have to go, Shin!” You shout. Kitas chest is heavy, and his shoulders are rigid. The flames are growing closer, rolling down the mountain. There’s a gust of wind and it blows the smoke towards the village. He can feel the heat of the burning forest.

Suddenly there are popping sounds, loud like fireworks squealing and shooting through the air. He doesn’t understand where they’re coming from, what they mean. They don’t stop, ringing through the valley and compounding with the blaring alarms, the warning voice on the speakers.

Kita doesn’t want to leave. When he looks at you, the despaired expression on your face and the many layers of hurt—layers he doesn’t understand, has never understood because he never asked—he knows that he can’t leave you. He has to do something, he is restless, like a child waiting for something that has no regular pattern, no rhyme or reason to be there in the first place. You, visiting him in Osaka.

But you won’t have any of it. “GO, SHIN!” you yell, voice booming—akin to a clap of thunder. The popping and splintering noises grow louder, and it strikes him that they are from the bamboo at the base of the mountain, the moisture in their chambers expanding enough to turn into deadly explosives. He sees a flock of birds lift from the forest behind you and fly east.

He tastes salt—tears, rolling down his cheeks and through his open lips. His voice is choked as he yells back in a desperate attempt for you to leave with him.

“I’m yer burden,” he reminds you, face scrunched in pain. His voice isn’t as loud as it should be, for you to hear him across the river. But he knows you can anyways, knows that you know he means don’t leave me, I’m the one you’re supposed to look after.

You smile sadly. He can’t tell if you’re crying too, but he can feel the same pain on your end. Your voice is equally too quiet to be heard when you respond, but it rings clearly in his mind.

“But I’m not yours.”

Your gaze is looking behind him, beyond him. He turns and his eyes widen, spotting granny slowly making her way down the path. His stomach churns—she didn’t catch the neighbor driving away. She’s coughing, unable to walk at the same time. With the smoke blowing over and granny’s old lungs, she can’t carry onwards alone. Kita hears himself curse and he rushes to her side, no hesitation as he lifts her frail body against his chest. Her head lands against his neck—her hair soft against his—and she coughs another long fit. He knows he has to leave. 

He takes one last glance at you, then at the fire crawling towards the now-emptied homes on your side of the river. The heat is increasing, blowing towards him with more smoke and ash. Five deer appear from the woods behind you and run across the bridge. You are staring at him, urging him to follow their example. He knows that he has to take care of granny, but he thinks this is the most pain he’s ever felt, buried deep in his chest. It’s the kind of pain that comes from hollowness, recognition that something vital is missing and yet somehow life is forcing him onwards regardless. He doesn’t know why this tension is there, when there’s a clear job for him to do, to do well. His face pinches, another round of tears welling before he blinks and turns to run down the path.

In this moment, he summons that unwavering confidence he has in himself. Not one of arrogance, but from the knowledge of what he is capable of, what he does everyday without failure. He runs east along the river, clutching his grandmother close. He tells himself this is any normal day of training, running to improve his endurance for volleyball. He is running besides Suna-san, who’s looking for a shortcut. He is running behind you, on your way to explore the enchanted section of pine in the mountain.

He is a toddler, carried along the path next to the river by his grandmother, seeing a mysterious child his age standing in the water. He asks who it is, pointing to a figure that granny can’t see. She tells him that he’ll learn one day, when the time is right.

He is sprinting down the same path, through smoke billowing over the valley erupting from a fire to his left, separated only by a river. Separated by you.

The honk of a car sounds behind him, a noise he barely catches with the sirens and the voices and the explosions pounding around him. He turns and sees the car of another neighbor, ushering him to get in. He veers to his left, letting the vehicle pull up beside him, and he yanks the door open, climbing inside with granny still against his chest. They lurch forwards as the driver steps on the gas and Kita guides granny to the seat beside him, reaching over to buckle her in. The interior blasts cool air and Kita is handed a water bottle.

“The fire department’s tellin’ people to evacuate to the next city,” the neighbor says. Kita nods numbly in response, unscrewing the bottle and helping granny take a few sips. She still coughs, but they’re smaller, less frequent.

With granny somewhat stable, Kita looks out the window to his left, facing the burning mountains. The car nears the ramp to the highway, starting up a mountain east of the fire. It gives him a clear view of homes being swallowed, Fujiwara-san’s one of the first.

Kita is breathless at the sight, reminded of everything these people will lose. He recalls what is already lost: the forest, the animals, the delicate combination of life that dwells in this valley. He thinks your mountain will be lost too, watching as the fire creeps west.

The popping sounds are dwindling, with the fire moving past the burnt bamboo sections and the car speeding away from the scene of destruction. But it is not quiet. There is a sudden clap of thunder that rumbles, long and gritty and deep. Kita watches as winds blow ferociously. Untouched trees sway while burning ones topple from the force. The sky is dark, a mix of smoke and storm clouds, though Kita isn’t sure when the storm began to form. He can see the water falling from the sky, blown at a sharp angle from the strength of the wind. It pelts over the mess of heat, releasing bouts of swirling steam into the air, to condense back into rain clouds.

As the car climbs higher up the mountain and the road, Kita watches the battle unfold before him. The power of rain as it fights the flames of red and gold eating the landscape. He watches the mist rising at the contact between elements, the water evaporating on impact.

He sees you in his room, that first time in Osaka when you were startled by a knock on the door. The way you went poof and disappeared.

They house granny in Osaka, taking over Kita's sister's room since she's at university in Tokyo. Kita is the one who looks after granny most carefully. It reminds him of caring for his brother when he first came to the city. He learns that granny’s house wasn’t caught in the fire. The river was an effective barrier and the rain came in time to manage any embers that had gotten blown over. The reports on the event stated that it was a miraculous storm, one that came from nowhere, completely unpredicted. It was an eventual downpour, enough to contain the fire within minutes and smother it completely in less than a half-hour. Footage from a helicopter shows the water rushing down the gullies and pouring into the river. With it carried embers, soot, ash, all piling together and flowing downstream. The next town down the river reported black water filled with sediment. A truck came in to deliver hundreds of cases of bottled water.

Aerial images reveal that nearly every house on the northern bank was claimed, only a few saved towards the east. He sees photos of the destruction. Your forest didn’t manage to escape in time, the fire stealing your enchanted pine. He wonders if you could have saved it if you didn’t prioritize his home.

There was one death: a backpacker, the person everyone believes is responsible for the disaster. Her body was completely charred, things almost entirely unidentifiable. Emergency services only picked out the metal of a stove—the decided perpetrator.

Kita has no time to grieve, with only a week before school starts again. After he helping granny get situated in the house, he immediately went to practice as a distraction. His teammates are appalled at the news, offering pats on the back and words of condolences, sighs of relief that he was lucky to leave in time.

But they don’t know what he lost. Not just the forest and the mountains, or the ability to visit his real home for months at the earliest. Even with the fire out there may be coals smoldering underground, or dangerous air wafting in the sky. The mountains won’t be green for at least a year, needing time for seeds to take root and sprout, needing seasons to accumulate rich dirt again. There’s no telling how long it will take for animals to return, birds to nestle back into shrubs or rodents to burrow again. The wolves and the deer are surely gone, evacuated to the next viable plot of land.

These aren’t the worst of his losses. What grasps his heart tightly, enough that sometimes he struggles to breathe, is the sight of you running into that smothering roll of flames. The loss of your eyes watching over him.

He dreams of fire, of heat and searing pain. His mind flashes with streaks of red and orange, billowing greys behind it. He hears the crackling of a burning forest and the popping of erupting bamboo. He wakes up panicked some nights, coated in sweat from the searing sensations he conjures in his sleep. In these moments he thinks it would help if he could be with you, your body always cool and damp, the sort of comfort that eases him, that could put out the fires of fear that grasp him.

A week later during practice, coach hands out jerseys. Kita is called first, given the number 1—captain. He blinks in surprise, having expected it to go to Aran. Nonetheless he takes the jersey and the title, and sits on the gym floor. He doesn’t register that he’s crying until he sees the teardrops fall onto the fabric, little spots of grey appearing where it was originally white.

He can hear Suna’s comment about the unfeeling robot showing emotion. He doesn’t care. He sniffles. There is a warmth in his heart that he hasn’t felt the past two weeks. He doesn’t understand where it comes from, why this of all things brings him comfort.

He tries to explain while walking home with Aran.

“I tend to agree with the adults…that the journey is more important than the destination.” His words remind him of granny at home, the way her hair skipped over his dad and went straight to him. The ace turns to him curiously, not sure what he’s getting at.

“I am built upon the small things I do everyday, and the end results are no more than a byproduct of that.”

He’s not good enough to go pro or make a living off volleyball. He just does what needs to be done, what fits into his routine—taking care of his body, cleaning up after himself, being courteous, and…volleyball. He holds up this jersey, looks at how it’s branded with 1, the captain’s number.

“Maybe this is just another result of the things I do.”

Aran blinks, stutters for a moment when he realizes what Kita is implying. “Don’t just—don’t sweat the small stuff! You don’t have to have some sort of logic behind your feelings!! If you’re happy, then you’re happy…that’s it!”

They hold eye contact after Aran’s outburst, and then Kita erupts into laughter. The ace watches his captain skeptically, not intending for his heartfelt advice to be amusing. His shoulders slump when he realizes this is the hardest he’s seen Kita laugh, ever.

Kita is reminded of all those times he couldn’t understand what he was feeling, why he was being drawn to do something he knew he logically didn’t want. All the moments he saw you and felt skeptical of the questions he wanted to ask, the embrace he wanted to pull you in, the warmth he felt in your presence—the way his brain and his logic denied him something he wanted, because there was no explicable reason for it. He thinks of the way you left, the way it hurt like no injury he’s ever lived through. He thinks of the lack of your gaze following him since just two weeks ago, the way he misses it but refuses to admit to it.

“You’re right,” he tells Aran.

By the time school is ending and he plays his final match, you are still not watching him. He feels the eyes of his granny and the eyes of his school on his back. The brooding eyes of Karasuno are on him when he is subbed for Aran in the second set. But yours are still missing.

He, however, has his eyes on his team the entire game, picking out their mistakes and what he knows is the misguided thinking behind them: Gin’s impatience, Atsumu and Osamu’s carelessness, Suna’s laziness. He stands behind them, the defense specialist who will receive the ball, and the one who’s eyes linger on their backs. He is watching them. He is like the lingering mist that wafts behind them, telling them that someone will see, whether they work hard until the very end, or let themselves succumb to their impulses. 

Kita has lived his entire life under your careful gaze. To cope with its absence, he has learned to become the omnipresent eyes backing up his team.

Adulthood

Granny always told him that someone was watching, and your gaze was proof. But at some point he realized that he wasn’t doing it for the spirits, that it didn’t matter either way. His work ethic would be the same even if you never saw him. This realization holds more weight when it is carried out in practice, Kita living his life with the same repetition, perseverance, and diligence in your absence. It makes him feel good, eases the emptiness. So he does it well, and he does it everyday.

He graduates at the top of his class, with grades that could get him into any university, launch him into any career he could imagine. And yet when the year passes and granny says she wants to return to the valley, Kita knows where he will go.

When he pulls into the neighborhood, his eyes are glued to the mountain. There are still trees and bamboo standing, though they are charred corpses. Debris of coals and fallen leaves litter the ground, coating the forest in brown and black. A light layer of green sits atop the earthy tones, sprigs of saplings and shrubs breaking the surface. Kita’s chest expands at the sight, a glimmer of hope.

There are only a few other neighbors who have returned, most still with family in the city. Kita speaks with some of them and gathers that they figure it’s a sign to leave the countryside—to better opportunities and a more convenient life. He wonders what will happen to this village if everyone decides to flee, who will take the land. Maybe the government will turn it into a Hyogo heritage site, a place people will flock to as a sort of pilgrimage. To see the brittle remains of homes and the earth’s attempt at recovery.

Kita knows that he wants to stay here, that granny does too. He’s not sure how it’ll work, but he can’t imagine himself anywhere else. His parents are skeptical, figuring that he’ll make an attempt only to eventually fold for a city job, but they forget that one of Kita’s life pillars is perseverance. He will find a way.

The way opens itself to him the following day. The April air is cool when he goes for a midday walk, crossing the bridge to the burned edge of the river. He trails along the slight incline towards the skeleton of Fujiwara’s home. There is only the charred foundation and a couple ragged beams standing upright, the rest collapsed into rubble. For a moment he can imagine you, running from the back door and into the front room with a bundle of grapes. He hears the distant whispers of Fujiwara’s protests as he follows slowly.

Kita walks to the once-veranda, experimentally standing on the elevated foundation. The charred wood creaks beneath him, but feels sturdy enough to hold. He carefully ambles along the collapsed room, scanning the damage. He manages to cross the house and reach the back exit, and he pauses at the sight.

The ground outside is similarly littered with earthy debris, patchy with occasional new grasses and saplings. Fujiwara’s garden is gone, no more grape trellises or rows of starches. But there is a small square, less than a tsubo, dug into the dirt. Kita knows what this sort of sunken patch means, has seen them in some of the neighbors’ backyards growing up, flooded and filled with lines of grassy crop. He steps carefully from the foundation of the house and curiously stands over the square, imagining the rice that would be planted at the end of the month.

He hears footsteps from near the house and turns to see Mayumi-san, the one who drove Kita and granny out of the valley during the fire. She looks healthy despite being in her seventies, carrying a shovel and a hoe as she makes her way over.

“Ah, Shin-chan,” she greets him. “S’been a while, good to see ya again. What’re ya doin’ out here?”

He bows slightly as he greets her and explains that he was exploring the neighborhood, since he only just returned. He asks about the rice garden.

“I was testin’ to see how it’d grow, since the ash can help sometimes,” she explains. “I came back early after the fire, n’Fujiwara said I could use his yard since he’s probably stayin’ in the city with his daughter.”

An excitement sparks in Kita’s chest, like something clicked into place. He’s not sure what it is exactly, but he presses her. “How’d it do?”

Mayumi smiles, one that looks devilish and would be frightening if he wasn’t accustomed to seeing it. “Shit’s the best yield I’ve ever had. M’gonna try to dig a few more plots, maybe sell ‘em at the city markets.”

This is his way, he realizes. He sees the shovel in her right hand and hoe in the left and speaks before he can register the words. “Y’want any help?”

The rest of April is spent preparing the land with Mayumi and pouring over books on agriculture. He soaks in his elder’s expertise on the subject, in the abstract and the field. When the end of the month rolls around and the two of them begin sowing seeds, Kita thinks that for the first time since your absence that he feels whole. He is here in the valley, between your two homes, dedicating himself to the land that you led him through as a child. He thinks he can feel your presence while working, your hands misting over his, transplanting seedlings with him. The rains that come in are well timed, bringing rushing water down the mountain to flood the few squares of crops.

The days pass with granny, some quick and others slow. She does well in the village, with other people her age, though the company is sparse. Kita can sense that it’s hard for her sometimes, but like himself she is malleable to her environment, can make do as long as she has her routines. Her lungs aren’t as strong as they used to be, but she enjoys her walks and can maintain the chores—the ones Kita lets her.

When September comes in, Kita and Mayumi spend one sunny day harvesting. Kita wields his scythe carefully, the movement unpracticed. He grasps the dry stalks and runs the blade across the taut stems, bundling them on the ground to be collected. They gather the clumps and carry them to the house next to Mayumi’s—another neighbor who hasn’t returned since evacuation. 

Mayumi prepares a sheet across the main room for them to work on. Then they thresh the harvest, grabbing the bundles and smacking them against the floor, pelts of rice springing off the stems. Kita is reminded of water, of rain splashing against the surface of the river. When all the stalks have been emptied, they spread the seeds of gold with their hands, like smoothing the creases of a futon. The day’s work is over, now waiting for the crop to dry. They exit, leaving a few of the screens open to let new waves of dry air flow through.

Kita finds these processes fulfilling, like his own daily routine. It’s another series of tasks that can be learned and done well. The result is his own sustenance, something he can live off of and share with others. It tastes better, he thinks, once he’s experienced the entire journey.

He tells his old teammates that he’ll be in Osaka next month for the markets. They only have a few dozen bags to sell, but he wants to get his friends’ opinions.

The markets are energetic and amiable. Kita shares with curious shoppers the story of the valley, how the burned houses and their backyards left ash that the rice took to. People find the narrative compelling, and they buy the rice despite the hefty price tag. Other vendors are interested, some make purchases to try in their food. Kita enjoys the atmosphere, the way these people and their businesses are connected. He and Mayumi manage to sell all the rice they brought. It’s hardly a profit, but it’s promising.

The next day Kita is in the Miya’s home with the additional company of Suna and Gin. They talk about life, preparation for nationals, what they’re thinking of doing when school ends. Atsumu is going pro, taking volleyball as far as he can. Osamu is ending it here, contemplating career options. He says he’s looking for restaurant jobs; he wants to be a chef.

“Yer gonna be a farmer, huh?” Atsumu asks, laying back on the couch. “It suits ya, that simple life.”

Kita nods. “Knew I needed to take care of granny, that I was gonna be in the valley anyways. One of the neighbors was growing some an’ I asked to help—wanted to see what it was like. S’gonna take time, but we’re gonna try to get the land from the neighbors, see if we can apply for subsidies ‘cause of the fire. Then we’ll try t’upscale. The market yesterday was good.”

Gin sighs, “Ever the considerate and diligent Shin-chan.”

“The rice is good,” Osamu interjects. “It’d be good for onigiri.”

It is, it turns out. After three years, Osamu decides to leave the restaurant he started working for out of highschool and open his own onigiri store. Kita is their main rice supplier, and a customer who never has to pay. They have classic flavors in the beginning: tuna mayo, pickled plum, ikura. When Kita comes with his next delivery, Osamu sits him in the dining room and has him try new options. The former captain takes his job as taste-tester seriously, his diligence appreciated by the former setter. They decide that the shrimp and beef flavors are ready to be sold, but the chicken needs reworking.

Kita gets into his truck that evening and drives home. The sun sets by the time he enters the valley, winding through roads in the black darkness. When he arrives at granny’s and exits the car, he sees that the sky is beautifully clear. The Milky Way spreads itself over the northern mountains, where life is still recovering, slowly but surely. He takes in the view for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet noise of the night—soft rushing water from the river, chirping insects, occasional wind.

He notices the blinking lights that cross the expanse of stars: planes and satellites. He sighs, remembering a time when he could sit on the top of the mountain and witness an unobscured view of the sky, taking up the entirety of his visual landscape.

Suddenly there is a shooting star, the most intense he’s ever seen. It’s a bright flash of light, he thinks for a moment white and orange and pink, that darts from the east and disappears as it curves west. Its trajectory gives the illusion that if it touched the ground, it would land on your mountain, that special enchanted forest.

After a few more minutes of watching, of relishing the awe, he makes his way inside. Granny is asleep, so he heads straight to bed.

When he wakes the next morning, for the first time in years—since that fire crawled along an entire mountain and you left to put an end to it—he feels the prickly sensation that he’s being watched.

Life doesn’t change with you watching him. Life didn’t change when you stopped. It’s something he knew, something you knew. He carries onwards, his routine of life, one that he does well and does everyday. He and Mayumi expand the fields again, creeping their business along the length of the river. Kita slowly takes on more farm responsibility, knowing enough to work independently when Mayumi needs to rest with increasing frequency. Granny is similar—she likes to help sometimes, with the easier work, but her lungs still struggle, never fully recovered.

It’s a beautiful morning, with cool air entering the house and light diffusing through the shoji. He can hear the birds and the rustling of leaves outside when he wakes, blinking away the lingering visions of orange and red from his dreamscape. He opens the screen towards the river while he puts away his futon and prepares for the day.

Granny isn’t in the main room as per usual. Kita pays it no mind, assuming she’ll be in soon. He makes breakfast and waits for her. She doesn’t come in on time. Kita stands to search, thinking she may have missed the time.

He enters her room and sees she’s still sleeping. He crouches over her to gently rock her awake, but there is no response. At that moment he realizes she is not breathing, not making a sound. He freezes, feels his heart plummet. He carefully lifts her hand from under the blankets—still warm—and checks to see if there’s a pulse. It’s quiet, flat.

He moves slowly, processing, sitting back on his heels next to her. His throat is tight and his chest—it’s hard to breathe. He shakily inhales through his nose and holds her hand in both of his. There’s a stinging behind his eyes and suddenly he is crying, weeping openly as he holds onto her. Death is the logical consequence of living, one of the only certainties of life; knowing this does not make Kita’s loss any less painful. While the hurt sits heavily in his chest, there is a growing spark of gratitude for her, that they were able to spend the beginning of his life and the end of her’s together.

Granny’s passing brings her closer to Kita, in a way. He feels that there are now two pairs of eyes on him, watching over him. When he looks in the mirror and sees his grey hair, granny’s hair, he thinks that he will always be a piece of her living on, that it’s his duty to live earnestly for her. He makes a shrine for her in one of the rooms of the house, placing her urn in the center. It is a beautiful grey clay, narrow and unglazed. A black thread ties the lid to the body.

She becomes another part of his routine, sitting before her remains and her images with his hands clasped and eyes closed.

Life goes on.

A month later he is in the field, tending to his crop. It’s late in the day, when the sun is near setting. The pink of the sky reflects onto the flooded beds, interrupted by sprigs of green. He inhales, appreciating the scenery, before exhaling and continuing his work. When he looks up a moment later, he is frozen by the sight.

There’s a wolf, large and grey, like the first one he saw as a child in the pine forest. He is not afraid, but in awe. A wolf returning means there’s prey: rabbits and deer. It means the forest is recovering, that creatures are finding their way back. He takes in the strong figure of the predator in front of him, sturdy and confident. A movement flashes in his peripheral, three pups catching up. Shin notices that one is nearly white, standing out from the others. He thinks of himself in Osaka, with his relatives.

When the pups catch up, the mother turns away and carries on.

Kita finishes his work before the sun fully sets. A light rain begins, clouds absorbing the vivid hues of sunfall, and he hurries to collect his tools before crossing the bridge home. The drizzling turns into solid pelting by the time he makes it to the empty house. He turns back briefly, squinting through the water collecting in his eyelashes, to see how long the downpour will last.

There’s a figure, at the other side, and his eyes widen in shock. He drops his tools and takes a few hurried steps closer, searching for confirmation.

Through the rain he can see you, standing at the other bank. You are smiling, he can tell, with your shoulders pulled upwards as if embarrassed. He thinks he is dreaming, that this is impossible. You, in flesh and bones, standing in front of the remnants of Fujiwara’s once home. He does not realize that he is smiling back, eyes crinkling and collecting water—his own tears as they spill—and grin spanning impossibly wide. His chest feels like it’s lifting, floating him in the air, to you on the other side.

Suddenly you are running forwards, not towards the bridge, but down the bank, to cross the water. Kita’s face flashes with concern and he starts down his own side, slipping through the mud. By the time he reaches the shore you have swum halfway across, long confident strokes despite the speed of the current. Kita marches forward, water touching his waist when he finally reaches you. He grabs your outstretched hand and tugs you into him, engulfing you in his chest and arms. You are as cold as the water surrounding him, but his body explodes with warmth at the contact, at finally being with you.

His heart races as he clutches you close, in an iron grip that refuses to relent. He thinks he hears you laugh against him, and he chokes out some strangled mixture of a laugh and sob. The water makes it hard for him to stand steady, so he brings one arm beneath you to lift you from the sediment and carry you to the bank. There he sets you down and grabs your waist firmly, staring at you with disbelief. You are smiling with all the glee in the world, eyes nearly closed by the force of it.

“I made it, Shin-chan.”

He doesn’t know what that means, but he thinks of the shooting star and the wolf, the rice fields filling easily without additional irrigation.

You lean forwards and wrap your arms over his shoulders, clutching him close. His arms come around your waist and he thinks he can recognize his feelings: relief and homecoming. There is a fullness, one that is close to painful, a pain he had been living with for years in your absence. He pulls you up the bank, to bring you into the house. He leaves his tools out, to be dealt with tomorrow, and goes straight for the genkan. 

You try to protest when he passes the spigot, “Shin, the mud—”

But he doesn’t care, kicking off his boots to be cleaned later. The mixture of river water and mud splatter on the tile of the genkan, leaving brown puddles and smears. Kita removes his socks and drops them behind him, letting his clean feet be the barrier between himself and the floor. He carries you to the bathroom, to deal with the mess together.

At night you are in his room, watching him set up the futon. He looks at you to ask, “D’ya need one?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Let’s share.”

His heart pounds loudly in his ears. He nods quickly and pushes the blanket aside for the two of you. He clutches you close under the soft comforter, your head slotting snugly in the space of his neck. It sends a shiver down his spine, the chilliness, but it coats him in warmth. He can feel his heart still racing, never fully calmed since seeing you. He feels those questions and thoughts bubbling up, words he always found unnecessary to say. Something about this moment lets him release them, lets him be curious about you.

“Didn’t know if I’d ever see ya again,” he says quietly, into your hair.

You nestle your head further into his neck. He can feel your lips against his throat as you speak. “It took a lot from me, the fire. Always need time to recover.”

His hand comes up to cradle your head, smoothing through your hair.  The image of the rainstorm flashes before him, the way the clouds swarmed from a previously blue sky to pour everything it had—everything you had—to put out the fire. He remembers the awe he felt, the sublimity of the view from a car fleeing the scene.

He doesn’t dream that night, his mind like an empty gulley, letting the soothing rainwater rush through him.

He cleans up after himself in the morning, retrieving his tools and mopping the genkan. It takes a while, though, interrupting his work several times to check that you are still in his room. You haven’t risen by the time he finishes making breakfast. A panic sits in his chest as he enters to wake you. You are still asleep, and he relaxes when he sees the steady rise and fall of your chest beneath the covers.

He sits on his knees beside you and gives your body a gentle rock. Your eyes peel open after a moment of stirring, and you are already smiling. Kita thinks it brightens the room more than the sun streaming in, that life is breathed into him from you.

You notice the granny’s shrine at breakfast. After assisting with cleanup, you ask if the small urn is all the ashes he has of her. He shakes his head and shows you the drawer in the display, where a box lays with the majority of her cremated remains.

“I wasn’ sure where t’put her,” he tells you.

You have an idea.

Only a few minutes later the two of you are exiting through the genkan, dressed for a day in the woods. Kita has a backpack on, the box from the shrine tucked safely inside. He lets you take the lead, turning left down the path and towards the western mountain. He is reminded of his sixth birthday, running to the end of the dirt road for the first time, panting to keep up with you. This time you are calmly walking hand in hand, in no hurry. Kita squeezes yours tightly, a necessary action to express the feeling in his heart.

You smile at him, and bring his hand to your mouth, kissing the back of it. Kita inhales in surprise and you watch his ears turn red, giggling at the sight.

When you two reach the end of the road, the rock face is still standing sturdy. He can see burned trees standing at the base, your mountain not untouched by the disaster. However, like the other forests, it is recovering, hope sprouting in the form of ferns and saplings. He sees a rabbit scurry away and a soft smile crosses his face.

You head first down the bank and into the water as usual, him following with his hand in yours. The cool water creeps up, only up to his knees now that he is grown. The water is easier to navigate in his adult body, and he effortlessly steps up the rocks to the forest floor, ones he used to scramble over on his hands and feet. The ground crunches beneath him. There is a patchy layer of pine needles—short ones—spreading along. The ground is not fluffy from decades of accumulation, but it’s a start. Small saplings bring bursts of fresh green, prickly when he brushes against them. The ferns hide beneath them, avoiding the scorching sun.

History repeats itself as you pull him forwards, along the river and through the early rebirth of the enchanted pine forest. The fallen tree that once served as a bridge is miraculously intact, though the top is scorched and he feels unsteady walking to the other side.

Wandering through the forest is another type of home. He hadn’t taken it upon himself to explore since returning, not wanting to disrupt the delicate healing of the ecosystem. He trusts you, though, and the path you’ll lead him to experience the land without damaging it further.

He notices that you are taking him to a section that he hasn’t been often, not a regular spot during your times together as kids. But it makes sense when you arrive at the small clearing and he sees the massive pine from his memory. It is thick with twisting branches, sturdy. Some of them are blackened from the fire, but others are coated in fresh needles, long and green, waving gently in the wind. He is surprised he hasn’t seen this miracle before, from the house. Maybe the distance obscured the view.

Kita walks slowly to the base of the tree and looks up towards its canopy. He can see the contrast of the charred and ashy sections of trunk against the rich brown of its healthy, resilient branches. The green shines brightly against the black and grey, proud of its revival.

He shrugs his backpack from his shoulders, understanding that this is where granny should be. He lowers to his knees before he unzips the bag and carefully removes the box. It’s a light wood, with tan streaks running along the grain. Pine, he thinks to himself in disbelief.

He slowly unlatches the box and sets it on the bed of brown needles near the trunk. There’s a plastic bag inside, tied with a simple overhand knot. He undoes it gently, slowly unfurling it to roll open and over the edge of the box. It’s the first time he’s looking at her remains, he realizes, and he notices that they are grey, grey ash with clumps of small black coals.

You watch as he moves slowly, cupping soft remains in his calloused hands.

“It’s like your hair,” you say.

He cries, letting out soft, ragged breaths between quick inhales. His weeping lasts the entirety of the time it takes him to spread the ashes at the base of the tree, where it meets the ground. When he finishes you crouch behind him and wrap your arms around his torso. He continues to cry. You feel it, his chest heaving with grief and mourn, love and gratitude. He brings his palms to his eyes to wipe the tears, but they continue to fall, splatter the earth beneath him with feeling.

You listen quietly as his sobs fill the space between rustling leaves and distant cooing birds. Eventually you take one hand from his torso to rub his back slowly, soothingly. 

His noises eventually lull, quieting to the occasional sniffle. He gently pushes the bag into the pine box and then slowly closes the lid and does the clasp. He returns it to the backpack with careful, practiced motions. Your arms release him when you sense he wants to stand. He turns around to face you, you and the valley below.

He watches you closely, runs his eyes over your face, eyes and nose and lips. He wants to memorize your soft smile, the way it warms him like the sun.

You bring your hands to his cheeks, their coolness refreshing after crying so heavily. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes, soaking in the contradicting ways you make him feel—this tug between heat and cold. He feels you press a kiss on his temple, then the other. They’re smeared with the grey ash and black coals, transferring the dust onto your lips. He sighs, in peace, and brings his hands to cover yours. 

When he opens his eyes once more, he looks behind you through the space between the trees, to the valley below him, spanning wide. He is reminded of the thousands of years it took these mountains to form, the thousands of years it took for the forest to grow on top of it. He knows that the fire he witnessed was not the first to rage across the land, and it certainly won’t be the last. He takes in the growth and change that has developed in the past few years, sparkles of hope in a collapse of despair. He recognizes that the destruction is an opportunity for something new, for him to be part of building the next beautiful forest that will rise.

He has lived for what feels like forever, and yet an entire life lays ahead of him. A life with the forest and the mountains and the river. A life with granny’s spirit watching over him, her hair and remains guiding him forwards. A life of working the land and growing something for himself, for others.

A life of unnecessary questions, ones he struggles to ask. A life of inexplicable feelings, ones he’s learning to let in.

A life with you. Here.

i know i said minor character death and then killed granny,, she's a minor character in haikyuu!! but she is a main character in my heart

anyways here's the afterword

[bug-bites]

batfam beach episode?? real not clickbait no glue no borax??

cw: nothing! pure vacation beach fluff (p≧w≦q) also barely proofread,,,

pairing: gn!reader x batfam (NOT ALL AT ONCE.)

characters: dick grayson, jason babygirl todd, cassandra cain, tim drake, damian wayne (all intended to be interpreted as either romantic or platonic unless its damian. ik in some comic runs he's like an adult but hes like permanently 12 in my head and i dont fw that :/)

a/n: im back with a new dc obsession tee hee (soz to everyone who wanted more abt the cod guys or spiderverse im comicsmaxxing and redhoodpilled) will probably make a part 2 w/ bruce, babs, steph, and duke eventually :3c

Dick Grayson haha dick

oh he loves the beach so much

the sand beneath his feet make him feel nostalgic from when he would practice tumbling with his parents in the circus ring i think there's sand in circus rings right? I dunno someone fact check me on that one

the victim of being buried in the sand, always asks for a mermaid tail but ends up with something like massive sand tits (courtesy of either tim or jason), he laughs it off anyways

somehow gets the worst tan lines. He wore a swim shirt one time and never again because the tan lines looked SO BAD which is a total shame because he tans gorgeously

will beg to do play shoulder wars i have no clue if this is the right name, again fact check me for this thing where you get a piggyback ride from someone and you try to knock someone whos also getting a piggyback ride over in the water

you’re on his shoulders since bro is strong asf and you square up against tim and damian

obviously you lose because hello that's damian wayne we are talking about but at least its fun!!

cass and jason are forever the undefeated champions of shoulder wars though, that goes without saying

Cassandra Cain

shes always seen beach episodes in animes that damian practically dragged her into watching so when she gets to actually go to a beach she is so excited peak sibling bonding is dragging your siblings into your interests

loves building sandcastles and writing things in the sand, watching it get washed away, and then do it all over again

hold her hand and jump over waves together on the shore and she will be the giggliest and happiest human being alive on planet earth

but out of all the beach activities she loves beach volleyball

shes actually scarily good at beach volleyball for someone who has never played volleyball before

dick thought it would be fun to teach her and have a friendly match between him and bruce vs you and cass

yeah bruce and dick were COOKED. huffing and puffing like they have a vendetta against the three little pigs at the end of it while cass is like “this is so fun, lets go again!”

ends the day with a little sunset stroll along the shore i need her so bad you do not understand please bbyg ill treat u soooo well

Jason Todd

beaches are fun on paper for him, in person not so much

PERSONAL HC INCOMING! He gets migraines after the lazarus pit so he can only have so much fun before needing to lie face down with his head covered with a beach towel to make everything less overwhelming or he wears sunglasses the entire time

he brings a book to read at the beach and stays in the shade the entire time yes he is that bitch

usually at home in the comfort of his little library he likes to read things that have an impact on him or just stuff that makes him want to analyze deeper. think books like frankenstein, lord of the flies, all quiet on the western front, just generally heavier stuff

but his vacation books? totally different. usually something super light, maybe a shitty romance book that you find in walmart which are clearly just results of book packaging, or a some booktok recommendation he got for shits and giggles because it just was so laughably bad, maybe even a childhood feel-good book like percy jackson or the little prince (mostly just books he would not grieve over if sand permanently got in between the pages)

he tried reading a colleen hoover book once and honest to God wanted to toss it into the ocean HE WOULD HATE HER BOOKS AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL

but out of everything he likes watching you enjoy yourself, his book wasnt that important anyways. show him that funky sand dollar you found or that really cool piece of seaglass, he’s probably gonna bring it home with him. a little keepsake along with the millions of grains of sand that never seem to go away

Tim Drake

Burns so easily

At first its kinda cute, like hes asking you to help him get that spot on his back he just cant seem to reach and its just a little sweet moment between you two as you rub the sunscreen into his sore muscles

But then it happens again. And again. And again to the point when he goes up to you, you automatically reach for the tube of SPF 100+ 

I just know his vitamin d deficiency goes crazy

Leaves the beach looking like a lobster, sunburnt, a crazy bump on his head from getting hit with a volleyball, and some god awful sunglasses tan lines

Overall, beach activities are not really his thing bros job is NAWT beach

Enjoys the boardwalk a lot more than the beach itself, likes the touristy stuff but still goes to the beach because dick loves it and he loves his older brother :(

Damian Wayne

i feel like he wouldn’t care too much for typical beach stuff. like at every beach that has sand and decently clean water you can do most beach activities

one thing that is never 100% consistent at all beaches is what lives on the beaches. this boy will spend hours staring into tidepools 

bruce was lowk concerned because his son did not gaf about normal beach activities that kids do but eventually he reached a point where he was like "i mean at least hes having fun and being safe"

i feel like talia would always show him books of sea creatures when he was little but he never ended up being able to see them in their natural habitat someone take this boy to an aquarium now

tells you fun facts about each creature you come across

will scold you if you take a shell from the beach, definitely says some shit like “how would you feel if someone ran into your house and just took your bed?”  based though, leave shells at the beach yall! taking them is like bad for the ecosystem

brings his notebook around and has little sketches of the sea creatures

even though typical beach activities arent his favourite, he doesnt hate it. he likes that he can catch a break from all the vigilante stuff and spend time with his family as a family and not just as a team

loves scuba diving. idk it just somehow makes sense and i think he would look really stupid in a wet suit

also i feel like he would never mention it but in his mind hes fully thinking "this is just like a beach episode" but he would rather die than say it out loud FUCKING NERDDD

[musicalmoritz]

What are your thoughts on the chapter 118? MitsuKou fans are eating GOOD I can say that much

My thoughts on the best chapter thus far of the current arc? I’m glad you asked

I must say this chapter launched me into a full blown Mitsukou/Soukou brainrot. I have like a million fic ideas for both of them now and there’s no way I can possibly write all of them AND complete my requests so I just have to be sad. But omg, what a chapter!! I’m still stuck on the “smothered him with attention” line, that sounds like some shit I’d write. And ofc Kou being “captivated by that loser.” Ugh they’re so in love. I am now fully convinced that Sousuke had a crush on Kou in the former timeline when he was alive, you literally cannot convince me otherwise

The fact that if Kou’s mother hadn’t died and his father wasn’t neglectful, he would’ve used his free time to befriend Sousuke…and him being the one to save Sousuke’s life in the new timeline…oh I’m ill. The finger scene. Kou’s little blush. MITSUBA TEACHING KOU HOW TO USE A CAMERA BY STANDING BEHIND HIM AND GUIDING HIS HANDS. This was their cheesy romcom moment. The dead wife montage in an action movie

I love how their former selves are trying to reach out to them. No.3 was so unhappy with his existence to the point of wanting to die, and he wanted Sousuke’s life so badly but now that he’s lost it all he wants it back. Kou learned during the Red House arc that it’s okay if life is complicated, it’s okay if he’s stressed and doesn’t have everything he wants, and now he has to see a version of himself live in blissful ignorance. I don’t understand how people can say this timeline is better unless they’re fluff addicts, them staying in this timeline would do nothing for their character arcs and the overall narrative themes of growing up and facing reality. This life may be easier, but it robs each of them of their natural growth. I understand people are gonna have different preferences but the conflict of the old timeline MADE the story, do ppl rly want all of that to be thrown away for some “and then it never happened” ending?? Do you genuinely think it would be better writing if we never saw No.3 Mitsuba again and his arc ended with another shock value death???

Sorry for the rant lol, I couldn’t help myself. Absolutely no offense to anyone who prefers this timeline, it’s not like the fans are writing the story anyways so these opinions are harmless

I love how every version of Mitsuba wants to be someone else, they each perceive themselves as the “fake one” (excluding OG Sousuke) and feel disconnected from their existence. When I get around to writing my character analyses for TBHK I WILL talk abt all the queer allegories that go along with Mitsuba’s character but for now I’ll hold my tongue. All ik is this chapter made me love Sousuke sm more

Oh, and adult Amane…jump scare of the century. I can’t wait to see what his role is in this new timeline, I have a feeling it may be similar to Baby Tsukasa in the previous one. I love whenever the Yugi twins interact with Mitsuba (yes even the angst with Tsukasa) so that scene made me cheer. Also Kou saved his boyfriend!! Yippee!!

Sousuke and Kou wanting to run away together gave me major Picture Perfect Amanene vibes. Also HKOTO vibes, pls bring back the yaoi kidnapping🙏🏻

I think that’s all I have to say, Mitsukou fans were well fed this chapter. I’m eager to see the next one, still manifesting that Kou villain arc

[conceptofjoy]

how do u imagine the Dynamic between dave and davepeta postgame. ik ur more of a dsprite fan than dp but i think it could/would be Very fascinating. plays a role in cracking daves eggy loking thign

i love both very dearly :) i draw dsprite a lot more partly bc of the self imposed sprite rules i made for my pc au. seb’s an exception, lets just say some kind of splinter bullshit happened lol.

pre retcon dave had that convo w jade abt ds. the way he talked abt him’s can be easily summarized by saing “hes me when it’s beneficial and not me when it makes me uncomfortable/ makes me need to confront some things.”

he’d totally just compartmentalize any interactions in that way lmfao. oh so youre a catbird sprite thing? alright im an ally do your thing bro i mean they. nepeta’s side of things wants to just PRY him open and the dave side’s like this is going to be so much fun. dps wants to fuck with him SOOO badly but also doesnt want him to run away from the egg crackification process. dave keeps avoiding dps not so casually but jade keeps looking at him disappointedly so they have to hang out. jade knows that theyre pulling something’s so tells dps to ease up on dave but thats literally an impossible ask.

dps explains some stuff about the gender thing bc dave is only casually interested. totally.

DAVE: so like a boy and a girl came together to make a nonbinary person?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B//< ummm

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< something like that!

DAVE: i dunno it seems pretty clear cut

DAVE: oh shit unless the bird also had some kinda bird gender and shook things up

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: >B33< yeah i had to do all kinds of gender maths as soon as i came into existence

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< did you know bird gender and cat gender cancel each other out?

DAVE: no shit?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< no that was a joke dump ass!

DAVE: i knew that

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< sure

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< well i dont think the bird had anything to do with the gender maths. or the sword

DAVE: sword gender…

DAVE: wait wasnt the bird a mama bird?

DAVE: seemed pretty intent on keeping our game egg to herself remember?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B00< ohhh yeah

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< my bad

DAVE: you remember being a bird???

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< no comment

DAVE: oh shit thats not very dave of you

DAVE: any dave i know would jump right into a whole spiel about how tough life is as a single bird mom

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: >B33< well dave thats because… im not you!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< we went over this before! lets go back to the gender thing

DAVE: yeah yeah

DAVE: ok gender

DAVE: so a human boy a troll girl a bird mom and a sword walk into two kernel sprites

DAVE: wait shit do the kernel sprite have genders too?

DAVE: kernel gend-

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: XOO< holy shit i think i get what equius went through

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< do you see what youre doing to me dave? youre making me sympathize with a sweaty and incredibly silly 13 year old troll boy

DAVE: haha youre funny as shit

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< thank you

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< yeah while the other components probably added some other gender stuff

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< it was mostly dave and nepeta’s gender that influenced mine

DAVE: yeah alright

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< like nepeta for example

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< grew up away from society and barely had to deal with the caste system

DAVE: sure

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< theres specifc roles assigned to each gender and caste but nepeta just didnt get the memo

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< despite the friend group being a pretty non hemoist

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B??< hemoist?

DAVE: sure hemoist

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< well despite the group being all “who gives a crap about your blood color and gender”

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< nepeta still felt like there was just something no one decided to tell him that dictated every interaction he had with everyone else

DAVE: yeah i totally get tha-

DAVE: wait “him”?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< …

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: ‘833< what?

DAVE: wait was nepeta a boy???

DAVE: oh shit how did no one ever correct me this whole time-

DAVE: no wait pause

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: ‘B33< paws

DAVE: paws

DAVE: no stop that

DAVE: if nepeta’s a boy and im a boy…

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: ‘B33< …

DAVE: were you lying about the bird gender thing or???

DAVEPETASPRITE^2:

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< yes dave. i really am part boy gender and part bird mom gender

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< *SIGH* i think thats enough for today. i tried my best

DAVE: huh?

[weird-bookworm]

LET'S SPREAD SOME LOVE!!!!!

talk about your favourite mutuals and why you like them

😄

oh god this is gonna be one hell of an answer

@fairyhaos because shes the sweetest comfiest most adorably chaotic lil ball of energy + she gives the best advice like hello??? what are you??? oh god my heart goes a little off track everytime we talk i just love you so much

@wheeboo okay shes part 2 of the they-make-me-feel-the-safest trio along w yena and axe like please i stumbled across the sweetest sassiest boo stan ever ALSO UR GORGEOUS???

@blue-jisungs axeaxeaxeaxeaxe so chaotically lovely and so boomer and so fun and yoid think shes savage but no shes just soft and as harmful as a pinecone (why do u remind me of tht one joon meme of him just. sitting there. peeling potatoes. in tiny.)

@slytherinshua we kinda talked less for a while bc life happened and then caught up (kinda lol) and im so glad to see shes still as crazy and lovable as ever (im waiting for tht ppt) like talk abt impressive. impressive is her whole personality. sometimes in, uh, less than conventional ways...hehe

@eternalgyu HANNIE WHERE TF R U I MISS UUUUUUUU 😭😭😭😭🫶🏻 like yk what i imagine when i think of hannie? causing mischief. LIKE IDEK WHY OKAY i just feel like we'd be running around giggling like idiots js pulling random pranks on people and js the thought makes me smile

@yllouhannie ylli is like love. ylli is gentle and kind and sweet. shes understanding and passionate and really quite cute. oh my love you make me wanna jump off a cliff because how can someone like you exist 😭 (no srsly what is this witchcraft ilysm mwah)

@woozvc nora is like home. which is saying a lot lmao i sound dramatic but like yk when u just talk to someone and it feels just right even tho ur not rly doing much? shes older but she lets go and i can just feel how absolutely beautiful this person is *melts off a cliff*

@welcometomyoasis shu oh shu i have no words so pardon if this is a little small but. ik i say this a lot but i rly do mean it. i love you. so much. yr msgs and reblogs and asks always make a smile and they make me giddy and suddenly nothing is wrong with the world 🥺

@haecien bro is my ultimate gay bestie like what else do you need in life other than cien. what. nothing is the answer. life is complete when u hv cien and his shenanigans lolol like i dare you try to Not like him. i m p o s s i b l e.

@glosskirt AYYYYY MY ARMY SOULMATE we connected over min yoongi. we still rant over min yoongi. we shall die talking about min yoongi. like there is nothing better than having someone to fangirl with over my favs gloss you filled a hole in my life <3

@mesanthropi weiwei!!!! my little bundle of sugar spice and everything nice!! (+ chaos and a passion about the randomest shit ever how do u live why am i not this exciting) how is it always fun to talk to you and why do ur msgs excite me so much

@aaniag chaos. thats it. chaos. this woman brought with her about half a dozen more desi moots for me like how do i hug you how do i appreciate you enough i ugghhhh 😩

@thepoopdokyeomtouched im still waiting for my flirting yk? lol on a serious note, u and ur crazy streak r probably the most entertaining thing on here, and i fucking love it. i love ur chaos and the fact tht u choose to share it w me, thank you 🫶🏻

@arafilez bro rly dropped outta thin air like a fucking ghost and made my life abt a 100x more exciting where were you my entire life ara. where. why didnt the atz rants and the writing and the random asks show up sooner. why.

@nonononranghaee HAFS MY LIL CUTIE PATOOTIE WHY DO I ALWAYS WANNA SQUISH U NOMNOM U CRUSH U KSKSJEHEH u give me so much cuteness aggression oh my god...

@kkooongie sarah sarah sarah sarah sarah i live for ur writing and im always looking forward to our little chats abt books and random stuff (...when r u updating btw 😅)

@maeleelee @mxnsxngie @imagine-a-life-like-this i don't tell you guys enough how much i love and appreciate each one of you. i dont tell u enough how grateful i am whenever i think abt u bc god ik how hard it is to take in a random person in ur circle, to adjust w a kid, to make said kid feel safe and included and loved. so thank you. for all that you do for me and for loving lil ol' me <3

@cadenonlinelive where u at damn i hvnt seen u in ages

@rubywonu @idubiluv GUYS STOP HIBERNATING ITS NOT WINTER ANYMORE I MISS U

[divinelolita]

ik u sleep but i gotta send this before i go to bed cuz its like 5am(almost six am)

ANYWAY

lemme um

lemme get sum headcannons(full band seperate) with a male reader who is a stripper(bro busting on them poles) and is kind of the type of stripper to wear more feminine outfits yk? cuz the club be needing that money fr

and ngl the band would prolly visit but literally hates it when reader got clients other than them

like bro wants reader to give em that lap dance like fuk r u doing😪🤞🏾

ofccc you can throw in obvious nsfw like???(bro u should know the positions we talk abt it like all the time😞)

and duhh u can add other ideas if u feel like it tf🙄

THE BAND X MALE STRIPPER

hii babe 🙈 ummm my cat was sitting on my lap while writing this so if there's typos no there's not 🤞 had to do research on this oml

BILL:

・oh god he loves watching you.

・He never really knew he'd have a thing for a person swinging their ass on a pole, but baby he fucking loves you.

・Just continuously looking you up and down

・He can't help but moan if you give him a lap dance oml, holding a hand on your waist kinda guiding you 🤭

・You leaving soft kisses on his jaw and neck, moving your hips on him...

・He's so turned on WHATT...

・Gets jealous if you give others a lap dance or just feel 'em up

・He gets that it's your job but goddamn he's envious 😭

・hes paying for vip idgaf.

・He knows y'all can't have sex there but oh my god just being able to touch you more, running his hands up your back without anyone watching oh my GOD

TOM:

・teehee omg

・Seeing you all dressed up as you dance.. oh my god that's all he needed.

・He's throwing MONEY at you babe. I'm talking 20-50 dollar bills omg.

・getting a lap dance from you is like heaven to him.

・Can't keep his hands off you, rubbing down your waist and thighs. He knows he has to be careful but he can't resistttttt

・He'd get slightly possessive, glaring if you give another person a lap dance.

・He loves you too much..

・NAH HE'S BUYING VIP I DON'T GOTTA LIE

・Groping you, pulling you close as he rests his head in your neck, letting you work your magic 😋

・UGH he wanna fucks you so badly but he can't due to health risks and allat

GEORG:

・You got him wrapped around your finger babe.

・He feels his heart beat faster as he looks at you, not being able to take his eyes off you

・You were his bi-panic idgaf.

・Looking at him, touching his arm or some shit like that? Oh my god.

・He loves that shit 😻

・Getting a lap dance just makes him feel like he's dreaming.

・Having you right there infront of him while you look so damn good...

・Taking him to vip as you remove a layer of clothing (maybe it's a shirt, dress, vest, whatever!)? He's so turned on...

GUSTAV:

・He'd be a little shy at first

・Like oh my god... just looking in his eyes while your spinning? His knees buckle.

・If you give others a lap dance or just touch their arm he feels covetousness.

is that the right word omfg

・I feel like hes not very touchy when you give him a lap dance, he leans back and just watches you with a lustful look

・He loves the clothes you wear omggg

・Just seeing you wear anything makes him so nervous yet zealous

uhm he's paying for vip cuz this is MY story and I choose what happens 😇

・anyways..Just being there alone with you? that's enough to make him horny.

・Oh my god he can't help but grab you and pull you close

[thecapricunt1616]

The Bear & His Honey - Chapter 11

♡ Chapter Inspo: Song Lyrics; State Of Grace - Red(TV) TS "And I never saw you coming, and I'll never be the same"

♡♡》》𝟙𝟠+ 𝕆ℕ𝕃𝕐 𝔽𝕀ℂ! ℕ𝕆 𝕄𝕀ℕ𝕆ℝ𝕊 𝔸𝕃𝕃𝕆𝕎𝔼𝔻《《♡♡

♡ Summary: Carm goes to see Winnie after a long day at work, Winnie discovers that famous chefs like Carmy have fans & she introduces him to the world of fandom. They have a chat about BDSM and possibly exploring it more.

♡ W/C: 8,384

♡ Posted Date: 03/07/2024

♡ A/N: Helloooo all!! FIRST Just so y'all know for the story - Winnie is like 4'11 on a good day, Carmy/JAW is like 5'7/5'8 - so that's why Winnie seems so 'small' , they really have a normal height difference for a couple lol JAW is a short king. Anywho I saw a post abt. how there are actually fanfics for famous chefs and stuff and I looked it up- it is totally true!!! Loves it, So of course it inspired this chapter hehehe I feel like Carm would totally be an old man and not even KNOW what fanfic is but Winnie is a professional fangirl. Also - I am currently watching TS in Singapore & DBATCxBabe?!?!?!? IM SCREAMING!! Dead dead gone!! I predicted thissss heheheheh

♡ Warnings for BTC: Smutsmutsmut, BDSM talk, OH period sex (sowwy ik some people don't like that but u can skip and winniexcarm will be back next week with some fluffy goodness) getting lazy w these warnings but if you've made it this far in the fic nothing will trigger you i've already gotten most the triggering shit outta the way.

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱. 🍯

When I heard a light knock at my door, I giddily jumped up from my comfy nest in bed I’d created for myself and dashed over, opening the door right away and Carmy dropped his hand away from the peephole, smirking. 

“And what if I was a killer this time, did you even look?” he stepped in the doorway, wrapping his arms around my waist and his hands sliding down to squeeze my bum gently.

I laughed a bit, wrapping my arms around his middle, crossing my fingers, and draping my arms around him lightly. “I guess I was so excited to see you I’d have been dead, kisses now” I puckered my lips up and closed my eyes expectantly. 

“Mmm…I’m expecting my test to be aced next time I come over yeah?” he pecks my lips sweetly and I open my eyes, furrowing my brows a bit before giggling.

“Test” I repeated, “You’re testing me?” I rested my forehead against his, gazing into the blue eyes I’d missed so much even though it’d only been 8 hours since I’d seen him last. 

“Y’can’t open up the door without checkin’, baby. This is a decent area- but Chicago is fuckin’ nuts” he nudged the door closed with his foot and tightened his grip on my waist slightly, the feeling of the calouses over his fingers causing goosebumps to rise over my flesh..

“Fine, but only cause I’m sooo obedient..for you” I pulled him into another kiss, wrapping my fingers in his frizzy curls and humming happily. I ran my tongue over his, enjoying the taste of tobacco and the minty gum he must have gotten rid of just before he got here. I feel his tense muscles relax slightly under my touch as I gently scratched my nails against his scalp. We made out for a few heavenly minutes, our noses bumping sweetly, him running his hands up my waist to my lower back, rubbing soft, soothing strokes back and forth.

He pulled away slightly, causing my eyes to flutter open and find his gaze. “Hm?” I questioned and he smiled a bit.

“I uh- I smell like work, I need to shower, honey” he kissed my forehead tenderly, his lips lingering for a sweet moment. 

I buried my face in his neck, inhaling deep and dramatically, letting out a satisfied hum which made him laugh, his chest shaking with movement.. “Mmmm…you smell soo good I love the way you smell Carmy, a little kitcheny, but still you,” I mumble into his shirt and he rubs up my back, his nails brushing over my ribs..

“You are fuckin’ weird babe,” he said, causing me to giggle and look up at him, resting my chin where it met his sternum and gazing up at him with a cheeky grin.

“Better get used to it, go and shower, pretty-boy- I can give you a massage after and everything if ya want. And I promise I’ll control myself this time” I said, pulling away with a step back. “Maybe” I added and he chuckled, grabbing his backpack from where he dropped it on the floor and heading to the bathroom.

“We both know you have shown little self-control around me while shirtless” he nudged it open, zipping open his backpack and dropping his usual grey sweatpants and boxers on the bathroom counter before tossing the bag on the floor. 

I gasp playfully at his accusation, “I’m Sorry- are you calling me thirsty?” I stood in the doorway, arms crossed with a playful grin.

He hummed and shrugged, turning on the shower and tugging his hoodie off, and undershirt as well. Of course, I watched- what male-attracted person wouldn’t watch him undress if given the chance? 

He brushes his hair back from the ruffling of the fabric, turning to pull the shower curtain open and I got the stellar show of watching his toned muscles flex beneath his skin as he does so. 

He reached down, unbuckling his belt, the metal buckle jingling as he pulled it off with one long tug, an action that had me readjusting my stance in the doorway to ease the now pulsing ache between my thighs. 

He unbuttoned his jeans, pulling the zipper down casually, and stepped towards the door, breaking my trance. “Mmhm…thirsty” he said softly with a smirk, pecking my lips before shutting the door in my face.I scoffed, blinking a few times in surprise and my cheeks going hot at the very true accusation. 

“Oh wow! Wow! A girl can’t enjoy free eye candy in her own damn house in which she pays the bills!?” I called through the door as I headed to my room with a smile, hearing him chuckle a bit. 

I laid back on my bed, opening my phone and going back to my scrolling on Tik Tok. It was about 10 minutes of senseless scrolling while listening to the water run- before, for some strange reason, I had the urge to click the search button and type in Carmy’s name. 

It felt…a little creepy. But- I pushed the shame off telling myself its normal to want to see someone you’re seeing’s social media, so I decided to feed that little voice in my mind telling me it was a good idea. 

And boy was it a great idea. 

The first 20 or so videos were absolute fan-cams of Carmen from different interviews he’d done for different events, award shows, etc. and the comments were absolutely filthy- and also spoke to my very soul for the way he made me feel..

‘Oh- I KNOW it’s big- FS fs!!’

‘I need him in a way thats concerning to feminism- like..strip my rights away’

‘He seems SO unhinged&crazy abt his craft…I NEED him’

‘Chef- more like DADDY’

‘You KNOW he's ripped, look at the armsss- and the HANDS?! NEED EM AROUND MY MF THROAT!!!’

Each comment i’d read I was giggling more, but then- an even better thought popped into my mind, if theres fancams… There has to be fanfiction.

 I nearly sprained a thumb opening my Tumblr app and typing in his name in the search bar. I giggled maniacally as if I just struck gold about 5 minutes later of digging through reposts of photoshoots he’d done fore magazines that I was amazed he didnt post on his personal instagram- when I struck the first one. 

Little gasps and giggles left my lips as I continued to read through the post. Being honest with myself, I wasn’t giggling at the people posting- I was giggling because I knew Carm doesn’t have a clue about this- and I can not wait to see the look on his face when I tell him about it.

I was so engulfed in the story of some fantasy someone had about Carm roughly fucking them in over the counter in the kitchen, giggling at the idea, that I hadn’t even heard the shower water cut off.

 I wish we could do that in the kitchen after everything was closed - but truth be told, Carmy is way too shy for public stuff, at least right now. But damn- after he leaves me in the mornings? I should be reading up on his tumblr tag for ideas because holy fuck- these bitches are filthy whores in the best way.

The bathroom door clicks open and he flicked off the bathroom light. “What’s all the gigglin’ out here missy?” he asked amusedly, coming over to now his side of the bed. I looked up to see him shirtless, clad in the light grey sweatpants I’d come to love so much that hung low off of his toned hips. 

“Uh-” I said, the meer view of him completely erasing all previous thoughts from my brain. Fuck his curls are so much more pronounced when they’re wet, it drives me nuts. No wonder his chest is so curly…

“TikTok?” he asks when I don’t reply, instead just admiring his frame, kneeling on the mattress and getting in bed next to me and he sees the Tumblr app open with a screen full of text. “Readin’ then, baby?” he asks now, and I realize I still hadn’t said anything, my focus on the little curly patch of hair that adorned the middle of his chest.

“Everyone wants to fuck you” I said the first thing that came to my mind, my eyes flickering to his finally, and he laughed. His head fell back on the headboard, eyes crinkling up in amusement adorably. 

“What?” he asked, poking my side playfully. “Who wants to fuck me? I haven’t gotten any offers as of late other than you, of course” he snorts and pushed his wet curls back off his forehead.

“N-no you’re like…famous, Carm, like- alot of people want to fuck famous chef’s.. I didn’t realize it before but it’s like..a kink? I guess? Like.. how I wanna fuck winged dudes, but some girls ultimate kink is a super sexy, awarded, top of the line chef ” I giggled and his eyebrows raised, a smirk forming on his lips.

“A kink?” he shakes his head amusedly, rolling his eyes lightly. “And who told you this baby. Sadie?” he asked and it was my turn to laugh.

“No! No, It was me, I figured it out… have- have you not looked yourself up on TikTok? People like, they make fancams with the interviews you’ve done at those um- the James Beard award things for the last few years? And the other interviews about how you’ve come up that you did back in New York..they’re like- people want you, Carm, really- like, you have these bitches pussys meowing.” I said with a giggle, smiling wide as a blush crept to his cheeks.

“The fuck is a fancam?” he asks, causing me to giggle.

“You are such an old man sometimes, you know that right?” I pecked his lips and he squeezed my cheeks when I try to pull away, smushing my lips into a dramatic pout.

“I’m only three years older than you, you know that right?” he said and kissed my lips once more before letting me go.

I laugh at his firmness on the matter. “Three years closer to 30, mister 27 and 24, 2 very different check points” I teased and went back to my tik tok likes. His eyebrows raised as he leaned in, wrapping his arm around my waist to pull me closer when he saw my last 13 likes in the previews contained his face.

“Should I be scared?” He mumbled into my neck with a soft chuckle, his minty breath hitting my senses.

“Mmm…Knowing you you’re gonna be all flustered, especially by the comments” I said, clicking on the first one. I smiled as I watched, “Look at that sexy little chef” I teased and he pinched my waist playfully as ‘Serpentine’ by The Gorillaz played in the background.

“S’what- people just like, look at me with music? Wait- why-why does it keep cutting to pictures of my hands from that article?” he questions, causing me to laugh and bury my face in the pillow at his pure obliviousness. “Hey! Tell me do I have weird hands?” he asks causing me to giggle harder. 

“Carmen oh my god!” I catch my breath. “You are so oblivious to your hotness, its adorable. No babe, no. Everyone is turned on by your hands, your hands are like…girlporn.” I explained, and his eyebrows raised in confusion, his cheeks bright pink.

“Girlporn.” he repeats, and I nodded enthusiastically with an amused smile.

 “I don’t believe that- I think y’re all makin’ fun of my hands, open the comments” he said and I roll my eyes playfully, obliging and reading some of my favorites out loud.

“Wow- these girls get me, Carm. ‘I know its big’ , ‘I need those hands around my neck-oops.’, ‘do you think he’s as passionate in bed as he is about the kitchen?’ oooo- I wanna reply and say yes to that one” I giggle and he takes my phone from my hand, scrolling. The light on his face accentuated his blush and he bit his lip in concentration as he scrolls.

“Who are all these people” he muttered to himself, causing me to laugh a bit. 

“Your fanclub baby, I told you - people love you, and they love what you do and the passion you have for it” I kiss his shoulder gently. “You haven't even read the fanfiction yet” I giggled into his skin and he looks down at me, offering the phone back quickly. 

“Show” he ordered, and I laughed. “Seriously, honey! Show! I’m frankly a little freaked out.” he said and I took the phone, going back to Tumblr.

“Babe, its nothing to be afraid of, they’re just horny 20-somethings like we are. And you’re like- mega famous? You’re like….Like- the Harry Styles of chefs! Of course like every bitch in culinary school is gonna be after your dick” I said, causing him to laugh.

“Oh my god- you really are something. C’mon, Read to me, about me- er how people think I am?” he chuckled and got comfy in bed, wrapping his arms around my waist and snuggling me into his chest. 

“Mmm so I’m your personal book slash fanfiction reader now?” I said teasingly, resting my head back against his chest and he kissed the top of my head sweetly. 

“Mhmm, and we can stay up as late as we want, I have tomorrow off” he said and I gasped happily, looking up at him with stars of pure joy in my eyes.

“You are?” I squeak with a broad smile and he beamed at my excitement, kissing my lips tenderly and resting his forehead on mine. 

“Mmmhmm, all y’rs t’morrow babygirl, you workin’?” he asked and I withered a bit, realizing I did, in fact, have obligations tomorrow.

“No- well…kinda, I have therapy at 1, and then I have the rest of the day, but my sessions are 3 hours.” I said my eyes fluttering to his lips before meeting his again. 

“Good girl” he said softly before kissing my lips dearly. My tummy flutters, and I feel warmth rush to my core at the name. He doesn’t know how much praise like that does to me. 

I delicately run my fingers through his damp curls, opening my mouth for him and humming in satisfaction at the minty taste that flares across my tongue almost instantly. I looped a curl around my finger absentmindedly, relishing in the taste of him. 

I interlaced our legs together, so every bit of possible flesh was being touched by him, soothingly running my calf along his. He huffs a small laugh into my mouth before pulling away. 

“Are we close enough now baby?” He kissed my jaw gently and nuzzled his face in my neck. I smiled wide, interlocking the fingers of my free hand with his. 

“Nope” I respond jokingly. Abruptly, I was being rolled over on top of him with one swift motion, only needing one of his arms to flip me like a ragdoll. I squeak in surprise, catching myself by straddling his hips with my thighs tightly and wrapping my arms around his middle, my phone lost someplace in the mass disarray of the blankets. 

“There we go angel, can’t be closer.” he said, pleased at his work. He wrapped his arms around my back and tucked his hands under my shirt, rubbing long strokes over my skin. 

“Mmm” I said happily, comfortably tucking my icy hands between his warm muscular back and the mattress “sooo warm” I said, giggling a bit when I sense him shiver slightly at the contact. 

“Jesus babe. Why the fuck are y’r hands so cold” he murmured, gently grazing my back with his short nails causing my eyes to flutter shut in ecstasy

I sighed softly in appreciation “keep doin’ that bear, it feels really good” I expressed, nuzzling my face in the crook of his neck comfortably. 

“Course babygirl” he said tranquily, causing a small smile to form on my lips. 

“I love it when you call me names…” I said calmly into his skin, gently kissing his neck. 

“I love it when you call me Bear” he replied lightly, squeezing my hip with the free hand that wasn’t doing the scratching. 

 “Good cause I love calling you Bear, it fits you, baby.” I kissed his jaw adoringly before sitting up slightly, resting my hands on his chest for support. 

“Alexa, lights out bitch.” I said loud enough for the speaker to pick up, before laying back down. 

“Okay, lights out, bitch.” The speaker replied before my tv shut off, as well as my lamps, the only glow in the room being my soft fairy lights. I feel Carms chuckle beneath me and I look down at him. 

“I can’t with you..Y’re not gettin’ out of reading that to me, y’know. I wanna know what people think I’m like” he said and I roll my eyes with a smile. 

“Fine- but I was only sparing you, a lot of the stuff they wrote is really filthy and I know you’re kinda shy” I settle back on his chest, holding my phone to the right of his shoulder where I could see. 

“Now I’m really interested” he snorts and I roll my eyes. 

“This one, is called Yes, Chef” I whispered the title in his ear seductively and nibbled at his earlobe, giggling when I felt his palm come down on my ass in a gentle spank. 

“Cut it with the theatrics and read, honey” he said with a smile 

“Okay! Ok fine. Here’s the summary; ‘Valerie is a 20 year old college student, who got a summer job as a food runner at Chicagos finest restaurant- The Bear, with world famous chef prodigy Carmen Berzatto, things got hot and heavy on her first day in the kitchen.’ ”

I read and he snorts a laugh. “Wow ok so firstly- she can’t even drink, way too young for me, and second- her first day?! Jesus people must think I’m a fuckin’ douchebag. The prodigy thing was a nice touch though.” he said simply and I giggled. 

“Just wait. It’s not supposed to be like…realistic. It’s only a fantasy.” I explained and started reading. A few paragraphs in when it started to hit the plot point, he interrupts. 

“Okay- what?” He laughs and I look up at him, an amused smile on his lips.

“Have you ever seen me wear rings in the kitchen? Ever?” He questions, raising his eyebrows. 

“Oh my godddd” I groaned dramatically, giggling into his chest. “Carmy! Fantasy. The rings have purpose, just wait.” I said and he rolled his eyes, leaning down and kissing the top of my head. 

“Fine. Continue, but this isn’t realistic. Rings are so unsanitary baby I’d never wear them in the kitchen” he rubs over my back gently. 

I continued on getting through a few more paragraphs before my sneaky eyes betrayed me, reading slightly ahead “ooo this is where it gets really good babe. ‘I could barely reply, and he must’ve known that because he lets out an almost mocking laugh, and growls in my ear “like that mm? Little slut loves getting filled out by her boss on her first day?” he spanks me so hard the sound bounces off the walls, and I’m sure there will be a bruise-“ 

“Okay woah- I’d never hit you that hard what the fuck” he said, a bit shocked causing me to giggle. 

“Why not?” I look up at him and his eyebrows furrow in concern. 

“You want me to hit you during sex?” He questioned, his hands going still on my back. I shrug a bit, thinking it over. 

“I’m more of a praise person, but if degradation like that gets you off- I think it’s hot. But…scenes like that where it’s all rough- it’s pretty emotionally draining. I’d just need more aftercare.” I said softly, gently tracing over the triangle on his chest with my forefinger absentmindedly as I spoke. 

“Like…BDSM? You’re into that?” He asked and I put my phone down, nodding a bit. 

“Yeah..I mean- yeah. You aren’t?” I asked, slightly anxious for the answer. 

It didn’t bother me if Carm only wanted to have the same vanilla-esc sex we’d been having, but I would be much more fulfilled sexually if he would try more daring things out with me. 

“I-I’ve never um…done it. Like- not…not anything real like- spanking, sure- but I’ve heard it’s like a whole…culture of stuff, and I don’t- I don’t really understand it.” He said quietly, his cheeks going pink. 

I smiled a bit, leaning in and kissing his lips tenderly, gently cupping his cheeks and rubbing my thumbs along his stubble. Had he even went home, or did he come straight back here? My heart fluttered at the idea of him being so excited to get back to me, he didn’t even bother stopping at home.

“We can learn what you like, together baby.” I said softly when I pulled away, gently stroking his cheekbone with my thumb. 

“What do you like?” He asked, equally as quiet as he gazed into my eyes. I could see all the curiosity behind his icy blues, and it almost made me giddy that I was the one who got to properly introduce him to this world. 

“The part of BDSM I like, is more psychological control than physical. I do like bondage, I love breath play, impact play is a maybe. I like being spanked, I’ve thought about belt play for sure - but I do not want you to slap me across the face or shove me around in like… a mean way. But what really turns me on is the dom-sub dynamic outside the bedroom. I’ve never had like- a real dom but I’ve wanted one. A soft dom... But I don’t do like…hookups, or friends with benefits. I want it intertwined in to my actual romantic life..which can be kinda hard to find. But…I could see you being really good at the soft dom thing.” I expressed, playing with his curls gently as I talked with my cheek flush to his chest. 

“I know what Dom and sub is..but what’s soft Dom? Like- a Dom that isn’t good enough er- like.. Strong enough to be a full dominant?” He questions and I sit up from his chest, my gaze meeting his one more quickly. 

“Baby, no…no. Absolutely not. You are fucking amazing. A soft dom is a preference. Just like I said how I love praises, soft doms use rewards more then punishments. Instead of demanding something out of a sub, like- forcing it out of them, they’ll give an order a precise order, and patiently wait for their submissive to follow it, and then they reward their sub, instead of punishing because they were made to wait or something... That’s an attitude I think you’d take on really effortlessly, just cause of your job and the tolerance it requires” I explained and he nodded a bit, his hands once more continuing to rub soothing strokes along my skin. 

“So…you like being told what to do, but in a nice way?” He questioned, and I nodded with a smile. 

“Exactly. And I love praises when I’m doing something you like. Soft dom’s aren’t about humiliation or degradation, which I don’t think you are. Just from what we’ve done…but- do you like degrading?” I asked and he bit his lip for a moment as he thought. 

“No…no- I dunno…I don’t wanna hurt your feelings baby, isn’t the point of sex to feel good?” He questioned and I gently stroke his cheek, my heart turning to goop at his honesty in the question. 

“Mmhmm, some people feel good when they’re being mean like that though. It’s all consensual, I think if I was into that it would be because I want to take back control, y’know? In a way, being slapped around as a woman- I guess in a situation that you’re controlling it can help us feel…safer?” I shrug a bit “but you aren’t a sadist Carm, we don’t have to do that.” I rest my cheek back on his chest, continuing to rub my fingers over the little curly patch of hair in the middle of his pecs. 

“Well t’me it would just feel…wrong? Like..to call you a slut or something.” I giggled a bit, resting my chin on his chest again to look at him. 

“You can do it in a nice way y’know? I’m talking about like- for instance ‘all you’re good for is being a slut’ I don’t like that. But if you were like ‘That’s it my good little slut you’re doing such a great job for me’ I’d probably love it. Because to me it’s like- If I’m your slut, if I belong to you.. it’s different than being just a slut- I guess I probably have a bit of an ownership kink.” I giggled and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Where’d you learn how to talk like that Jesus” he muttered, his hands sliding down and squeezing my ass firmly. “I…” he trails off for a moment. 

“What baby? Tell me” I said encouragingly.

“I think..” he clears his throat. “I think I like praise too?” He said his cheeks going flaming red at the admission. “I-is that normal f’r guys t’like that?” He asked quietly, clearly anxious that he’d possibly said something wrong. 

“Yes, yes baby, thank you for telling me, what kind of praise do you like?” I asked, gently tracing the veins along his neck with a feather-light touch. 

He swallows thickly, goosebumps covering his skin. “Um..I- I dunno…but it- I-I guess the idea sounds nice? C-can you give me some examples..maybe?” He asked nervously, his thumbs rubbing circles into the flesh of my bum that he was still holding on to firmly. 

“Mm..well it’s not so much of an example as it is a real thought I just haven’t said out loud.. when we were in the shower and you were all bossy telling me to bend over, that was so fucking hot. I think about it all the time when I’m getting off, it always gets me there.” I smirk, gently playing with his chain between my fingers, tugging lightly. 

His pupils dilated, drinking in my words and I could see that he was contemplating something behind his gaze. “So…you like it when I give you orders like that? Like..Bossin’ you around? I honestly felt kinda bad after” he said softly and I nodded. 

“I love it. Also when you praised me for how well I take your huge cock, that was so good baby.” I kiss his neck, gently nipping the sweet spot below his pulse point and he groans softly, his grip on my ass tightening. 

“Fine… Then get on your back.” He said lowly, his voice husky with lust. Without a second thought, I plop on my back, spreading my legs to make space for him. 

“As you wish.” I said with a satisfied smile and he straddled me, his weight pushing me into the bed and he held himself up by his muscular arms on either side of me, caging me in. His chain dangled in front of my face teasingly, and I took it between my teeth. 

“Fuck you look so hot like that baby” he said softly, causing my proud smile to grow. 

I dropped it from my teeth “I want you to own me Carmy” I said softly, my hands trailing up his muscled chest. 

“Ye’ baby? You wanna be mine?” He kissed my neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My eyes fluttered shut, my stomach full of a swarm of butterflies, and my core on fire. I gasp in pleasure as he nips the spot on my neck that drives me wild, my chest arching up and becoming flush with his. 

Suddenly, I’m reminded of my current situation. 

“Wait” I said softly and he immediately stopped, pulling away and sitting up slightly. 

“Did I do something?” He asked nervously, carefully pulling down my shirt that had been pushed up in the heat of the moment. 

“No…it’s…” I blushed, covering my face in embarrassment. “It’s my fault- We can’t t’night I’m sorry,” I said shame lacing my voice. I feel his hand around my wrist, gently tugging. 

“Honey, look at me- what’s wrong?” He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it gently. 

“I’m- I’m on my period and…I don’t wanna disgust you so- so no.” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest, staring at the ceiling more annoyed with myself than anything. 

“If it’s a me thing baby- I don’t care. I’ll wear a condom if you want, we can put down a towel. I’m definitely not afraid of a little blood.” He said sweetly, gently resting his hands on my hips and squeezing affirmingly. 

I felt a hard lump in my throat, and tears began pooling at the back of my eyes as my lip begins to quiver. He noticed and his lips curled into a small frown “we- we don’t have to angel, I’m just telling you that I don’t care if you’re bleeding- It’s- it’s fine, princess, we can just cuddle” he said gently and I nodded. 

“I know-“ I whisper, the tears making their way to my lash line and threatening to spill over. 

“Then why’re you cryin’, pretty girl?” He gently swipes his thumb under my eye, collecting the tears that had gathered. 

“Cause” I sniffled. “Cause you’re perfect Carmen.” I cup his cheeks and pull him into a deep kiss, my eyes squeezing shut and more tears falling down my cheeks.

He pulled away gently “don’t cry Angel, please don’t cry” he whispers, brushing away my residual tears and kissing my damp cheeks before resting his forehead on mine. “Do you want to? I want to, baby. But what I want more is what you want.” He whispered, looking in to my eyes honestly. 

I smiled a bit, nodding slightly against him. “Yes” I whisper. “But I just feel…all mushy now- and…I don’t wanna fuck” I said and I saw the disappointment behind his eyes, but of course he didn’t let it show otherwise. 

“I want you to make love to me.” I whispered, kissing his jaw tenderly in a line up to his lips. He smiled softly against my lips, humming softly. 

“Anything you want, princess.” He said softly before kissing my forehead tenderly. 

I smile warmly, my hands trailing up his sides, “let me go get a towel..” I said softly, and he shifted onto his side of the bed, sitting up against the headboard. I sit up and looked at him before getting up, grabbing his hand and squeezing gently. 

“Promise if you get grossed out- we’ll stop? A-and…and that you won’t see me differently.” I said meekly, in frantic need of reassurance. 

“I told you, honey, you could never gross me out, and being intimate while you’re on your cycle won’t change my feelings for you. I love being close to you, nothing could change that” he conveyed sincerely, before bringing my fingers to his lips and kissing gently. 

I nod, “ok,” I said quietly. I got up and padded off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I used the restroom quickly and prepared myself by wiping down with some baby wipes, even though I’d just showered a few hours prior (you could never be too careful) - and washed my hands before grabbing an old towel from the bathroom closet. I took a deep breath to settle my nerves before opening up the door again. 

“I just- don’t um…finger me. You can touch me but- no- no fingers..please” I said shyly and sat on the bed, plopping the folded towel on the edge. 

“You got it, honey, thanks f’r tellin’ me- now c’mere” he patted his lap gently. I shuffle over on my knees, straddling him and sitting on his thighs gently. 

“Can we…can we turn off the lights?” I ask softly and he nodded. 

“Whatever will make you most comfortable baby, I’m fine with whatever you want.” He kissed my jaw sweetly. 

I leaned down and kissed his neck gently, leaving soft, lingering kisses down and around his throat, trailing down, grazing my teeth along his skin as I did so and kissing his collarbones gently. “You have such a nice chest Carmy” I said softly, kissing the base of his throat sweetly. 

“I could say the same thing about you, can I take this off honey?” He tugged the hem of my shirt gently, and in response I sit up and lifted my arms. He slips the fabric off, throwing it somewhere on the floor and sat back, eyes racking over my frame causing my cheeks to heat. 

“So fuckin’ perfect.” He mutters, his large hands cupping my breasts and thumbs rubbing over my nipples causing them to perk up almost immediately. 

“Do you like my piercings?” I asked softly, one of my hands coming up and cupping his gently. He looked at me as if he was shocked I'd even ask the question. 

“Babe- y’re so fuckin’ hot. You have the nicest tits I’ve ever seen. I’m obsessed with these” he squeezes them together for emphasis, causing me to giggle and I felt all of my tension and insecurity melt away. 

“Yeah? What do you like about ‘em?” I asked with a smirk, amused at his boyish affinity for breasts, running my hand down his forearm and squeezing gently. 

“Fuck yes. So many things. I love how they’re the perfect handful for me, like they fit fuckin’ perfect in my hands honey. And they’re so soft, and so perky, and fuckin’ bouncy- c’mere I need ‘em” he pulls me to him, kissing over my flesh with hot, wet smooches before taking one of my nipples in his mouth and suckling gently, his tongue playing with my jewelry causing me to moan out loudly in pleasure. 

I’d never been ravished this time of the month before- and to be quite honest, it was slightly overwhelming just how sensitive I was. 

I gasped slightly at the feeling of his teeth gazing at the sensitive bud, my chest arching into him and pathetic whimpers falling from my lips. “Carmy - fuck I love your mouth s’much” I grind my hips into his, feeling his length already rock hard beneath me. He moaned slightly into my skin, the vibrations against my nipple sending a crashing wave of pleasure to my core that caused my hips to buck into his and my hand to fall flat to his chest to try and ground myself, his thumping heart resting beneath my palm. 

“Fuck - take these off” I said, tugging at his sweatpants. “I- I don’t wanna ruin them with a stain they’re my favorites” I breathe out, pulling at the waistband more. He chuckles into my skin, pulling away from my nipple with a pop and gazing up at me with dark, lust filled eyes, the blue almost completely swallowed by the black saucers of his pupils. 

“How do you want me angel?” He asked, resting his chin on my breast and not breaking my gaze. His lips were puffy and swollen from the assault on my nipple, glistening with saliva. 

“I-“ I felt my cheeks heat, my stomach flipping with anxiety at the realization of the intimacy I really wanted. I swallowed thickly before continuing. “I- I want you to be on top of me…like…like earlier? When you were pressing me into the bed it…it made me feel safe” I brushed a hand through his curls. 

A small blush heated his cheeks and he smiled a bit. “Yeah princess? Ok..I liked that too. I wanna see y’re pretty face” he said softly, brushing my fringe away from where it had hidden my eyes slightly. 

I kissed his lips tenderly before grabbing the towel, laying it down on my side and smoothing it out. I realized, without the glow of the moonlight pouring in that was cut off by the curtains, it was pitch black on my half of the bed. “Can you- um…open the shade a little?” I ask him when he got up to slip his sweatpants off. 

“Course baby, no one can see us right?” He joked, going over and pulling open the curtain and soft moonlight flooded the whole room, just enough. 

“I think it’s dark enough in here for no one to get a free show” I giggled, laying back and making sure my hips were fully on the towel so I wouldn’t stain my silk sheets. I sat up a bit, pushing my hair behind me so I or he wouldn’t pull it by accident before settling back down, spreading my legs once more for him. 

He stood at the end of the bed, like me, in nothing but his underwear. His large hands curled over his hips as he admired my frame. I blushed, suddenly feeling as naked as I was, and I resisted the urge to cover up my breasts with my hands. “You are so fuckin’ beautiful, Winnie” he said softly, kneeling on the bed and coming up to me, wrapping my thighs around his middle and kissing up from my navel to my neck in long, open mouth kisses, marking me with his saliva. The chill of the air conditioning after each kiss eventually brought on a small shiver that turned into raised goosebumps. 

 “You make me feel so beautiful” I said softly, my eyes fluttering shut and head falling back to the pillow in bliss as he ravished me with adoring kisses over every inch of bare skin. 

“Mm well that’s because you are, you’re the most captivating girl I’ve ever seen” he whispered in my ear gently, his voice laced with a certainty that he believed what he was telling me. 

I swallowed thickly, my breath hitching when he bites down on my neck gently, sucking on the sensitive skin. “I want to be yours Carm. Only yours- please” I breathe out, my arms curling around his back and fingers drawing little patterns over his muscles lightly. He bit down on my skin harder, sucking roughly. 

There will surely be a bruise. 

I moaned softly, one of my hands trailing up to wrap in his soft curls and play with them between my fingers. “Yeah?” He mumbled into my skin, peppering kisses down my jaw “Y’want me to own you, baby? Mmm? Y’want everyone to know that you belong t’me?” He asked gently in my ear, his hot breath and husky voice laced with desire hurling waves of warmth to my core. 

“Please-please own me Carmy. Make love to me” I begged quietly, my voice trembling with want and anticipation. He rested his forehead on mine, nuzzling the tip of his nose against mine sweetly. 

“You’re the only person I’d ever want to make love to, honey” he whispered into my lips before kissing me hungrily. I moan at his words, opening my mouth for him and dragging my tongue across his, needing more of him.

 I lifted my hips when I feel hip pat my bum, and he pulls my panties down to my knees, breaking our kiss to trail kisses up my leg before he drapes it over his side to peel off the barely-there fabric, flinging it to the floor before wrapping my leg securely back around his waist. 

“I need you” I voiced softly, my fingers trailing down his chest to his happy trail, delicately hooking my fingers in his waistband and pulling him free. His length eagerly pops out and slaps against his stomach, making me smile proudly.

 “Do you need me?” I ask quietly, wrapping my fist around his length and stroking him gently, giving him the firm tug he loved. 

He groans, his head falling back slightly and eyes fluttering shut as I run my thumb over his slit, spreading the precum all over his rosy head. “Fuck baby- so bad. I miss your pussy so fuckin much” he breathes out, whimpering and grabbing my wrist when I started massaging his tip firmly with my thumb. 

“Ah-ah-mmm-baby” he whines, gripping my wrist tighter “fuuck- shit Y’re gonna make me cum, s-stop- please- I-I still wanna fuck you” he whimpered and I gently lowered my hand, continuing to do slow languid strokes over the bottom half of his length and I see his muscles relax as if I’d just taken him right off the edge. 

“That’s how it feels when you rub my clit- more or less.” I said and he gently pushes me to lay back, causing me to lose my grip on him. 

“I’d say less considering-“ he spread my lips with his ring and forefinger, dragging his middle finger just barely brushing over my clit causing my hips to buck into his palm and a soft moan to escape my lips. “Takes barely anything t’get you worked up baby, you were chokin my cock- not a fair comparison” he teased with a smirk, leaning in and kissing me warmly. 

I cry out in his mouth when he flicks his finger over the extremely sensitive bud, “see baby? Y’re already so worked up… I love those sexy little noises you make” he hums in my ear, rubbing me in achingly slow circles. 

“Oh- fuck yes- yes-yes Carmy just like that” I whine out, tightening my heels in his back to pull myself closer. He adds more pressure and I gasp out, grinding my hips against his hand, so aching for more friction he barely had to move his fingers to get me off at this point. 

“That’s it honey” he leans down, taking my nipple back in his mouth and my core clenches around nothing which he feels beneath his hand causing him to smile lightly, his tongue flicking over the nipple.

I let out a breathy “ahh” at the wave of pleasure that washes over my core at the action.

“Mmm you’re humpin’ my hand like a horny little bunny right now baby, it’s adorable” he mutters into my skin and I smiled lazily, opening my eyes to look at him. 

“Not my fault your hands are better at the job then mine are” I circled my hips, and he took back over, rubbing quicker but lighter circles into my heat that made my stomach tighten and head fall back on the pillow with a breathy “oh”. My breathing quickens, my core tightening, that familiar building beginning to wash over me and my eyes twisting shut, nose scruching in focus. 

“Y’gonna cum f’me, bunny? Mmm? I know that adorable face baby, you close? Y’gonna cum f’me angel?” He cooed teasingly, kissing my collar bones and nipping gently. I whimper at the use of the new name, my eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure. 

“Ah! mm-mmhmm” I managed to ramble out, my mind going blank other than the overwhelming tightness in every muscle. 

“Hey, hey, lemme see those pretty eyes, princess” he kisses the corner of my mouth sweetly. “Mm? Please Baby? Can I see those pretty eyes while you cum for me?” my eyes fluttered open and met his, seeing him smiling sweetly. “Oh you are such a mess and we’ve barely started angel, such a good girl- my good girl” he said, and with that- I was thrown over the edge into my orgasm full force. 

My hips bucked up, my clit pulsing, warmth flooding every inch of my body as the pleasure overtook me. “Yesyesyesyes” was all that I could manage to get out of my mouth, my breathing ragged. I pulled him to me, kissing him feverishly, the sound of lips the only audible while I rode out my high.

 “I need you” I mumbled between hot, wet kisses. “I need you inside me,” I said, before kissing him again. 

He adjusted my hips, pulling away briefly and ripping open a condom with his teeth that he blindly grabbed from my nightstand he’d left out for us a while ago, and rolled the latex over his throbbing member. “Ribbed huh?” He raised his eyebrows teasingly and I giggled. 

“More fun f’me- especially with a huge cock like yours” I pull him back to me with my legs and chuckled as he lines himself up, holding himself up with one arm. 

“I’m honestly surprised you can take all of it.” He said, nudging his tip in and I moaned, dropping my head back and eyes fluttering shut.  “Fuck” he grunted, pushing in deeper. “Y’re fuckin tight babe- are you sure y’re ok?” He looks up at me and in response I nod, my jaw dropped wide in pleasure and eyes shut lightly, breathing heavy.

“Fuck- oh my god please- please- more” I begged him, grabbing his hand and interlacing our fingers. He gently kissed my forehead as he pushed himself into me to the point our pelvises were flush and I let out a loud whiny cry at the sudden pressure. 

“Yes fuck- I feel so full-s’good” I whine out. He moaned softly as he thrusts out to the tip before going all the way back in, the ribbed tip of his cock brushing right up against my g-spot in a way that makes my hips jerk and I let out a soft “ah”, stars forming behind my eyes. He wrapped his forearms around my thighs, pulling me higher up in his lap and wrapping his arms around my back, holding me over the bed with his hands on my shoulderblades as he started a quick snap of his hips, moaning out as his head fell back. 

“Fuckkk baby. Y’re so fuckin’ good t’me letting me have you like this- shiiit- s’fuckin’ tight baby y’re swallowing my fuckin’ cock right now” he grunted out in absolute ecstasy.

But it fell on deaf ears because this new position he had us in had me swimming through an ocean of pleasure and I couldn’t think of anything other then how deep he was, and how he was hitting spots I’d yet to discover myself or with any other partner. I could feel him in my stomach - and I’d have thought before now, someone so big would hurt, but it was as if we were molded for each other's bodies, he filled me up like a fucking puzzle piece.

“Mm? How’s it feel baby? You ok?” He slows down his movements,  breaking me from my trance and I cupped his cheeks, resting my forehead on his. 

“Carmen” I whisper, my hands trembling with pleasure. 

“What? What- baby, am I hurting you?” He asks his voice laced with worry. 

“No- no. I need you- I- I need you to keep fucking going. Don’t stop. Unless I tell you. To stop. Understand me? I’ve never felt so fucking amazing- I can’t even think baby- I can’t even fucking cum right now- i’m trying to process this level of pleasure, you’re fucking me dumb right now- please, please don’t fuckin’ stop.” I rambled out and stroke his jaw gently and he continues his slow pace. “F-Faster, and harder. Please” I said, kissing him deeply and moaning into his mouth when he did so. 

I pulled away, gasping in pleasure as he thrusted into my gspot, my hand gripping his shoulder and the nails digging in to the skin, causing half moon shapes “there” I squeaked, my eyes screwing shut. He rested my back against the headboard for support, before snapping his hips faste straight into that spot. The only sounds in the room were now his soft satisfied grunts, wet sounds of him drilling into me, the clapping of skin, and short sweet little ‘ah…ah…ah…’ noises spilling from my lips unintentionally at the force of his every thrust. 

Before I could even warn him, my walls are pulsing and fluttering around him wildly as one of the most intense orgasms of my life crashed over me like a tsunami, my hips bucking wildly and thighs quivering uncontrollably. I cry out, my back arching up and my fists white from grabbing the sheets so hard. I could have sworn I felt one of my nails crack under the pressure of my grip.

“Mmmm- cumming- cumming!!” I muttered urgently between heaving breaths when I could finally get a coherent word out, causing him to whimper softly as he continued on the same pace to his release.

 He grips my hips tight enough to bruise, his head falling forward as he chases his own release “fuck- gah- me too babe- ah” he grunted as he spilled into the condom, laying me on the bed gentle as he could in his exhaustion and limply collapsing over my frame as he catches his own breath. 

He lets out a breathy moan as my walls continue pulsing around him as I come down from my own release “holy fuck babe.” He breathes in to my skin, “fuuuuck” he sits up slightly, pulling me in to a heated kiss. I hum softly, my mind still fuzzy but happy he didn’t pull out right away. 

Once he pulled away from the kiss I smiled lazily, utterly fucked out from one round. “That was so amazing Carmy. I’ve never came like that before- like- that was a round three kinda orgasm, you did sooo good Bear, thank you” I said sweetly, playing with his chain gently and adjusting the pendant. 

“It was perfect honey, ‘took me so well” he kisses down my jaw and neck, I hummed in satisfaction. 

“Don’t pull out yet, I wanna stay like this, please” I said softly, running my fingers over his back. He chuckled softly into my skin 

“Okay babygirl, whatever you need” he gently brushed my hair out of my face and cups my cheek. “I like it when we get to be so close like that…when we have sex” he said quietly, bringing a smile to my lips.  “Me too” I whispered, leaning in and kissing him tenderly.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

[aachria]

omg new chapter jst dropped im still reading i jst finishdd read coins letter and man i already love him sm

Like (spoiler alert ig if anyone's on tumblr before reaching the chapter???))

Hes so so so so funny and and :(( hes so dad figure coded

"Not even the great pirate era smh 😕" so real for that boo

ALSO ALSO ED AND COIN SPENDING THE TIMESKIP TOGETHER IS ALSO SOMETHING I PREDICTED Ed is gonna be such a badass. Also the line that goes "wherever you are, ill find you" makes me feel like you might legit make ed have both the coin training arc and be on the execution stand and i have never been more excited for something because i feel like if you do that we might get a luffy pov 🤭🤭🤭

Him going around calling ed his kid made me so happy. Guess ed wont have to worry abt getting too close to whitebeard now that they have their own found family dad "You’re probably something to brag about so I wanted a head start." Ed deserves to be bragged about 🗣‼️‼️‼️

him immediately saying that if rayleigh says his name is a dick joke hes lying is so sibling coded (and rlly zoro and ed coded i feel)

"And no matter what — what you’re fighting for right now, what your morals are, how shit you think your personality is, any of that bullshit — you couldn’t possibly disappoint me. " i cried, i sobbed, i shoved my head in my pillow and screamed.

And and "Just remember you’re everything, everything is going to be fine, and I’m gonna help you anyway I’m capable." :((( hes so cool i love him fr

"PLEASE do not prove me wrong on that one oml. I mean make your own choices slay queen pussy boss" hes the best. Friendship ended with Ed, Coin is my favorite self insert oc now.

"Pick you up later kiddo" FATHER??? bro is not only ed's dad hes my dad too now. Jst. *takes him and runs away*

I read the letter so many times i should probably get to the rest of the chapter this is gonna get long im srry in advance for yapping sm 😔

Glad we might have a reasonable explanation for teach knowing ed because that shit was worrying

The more i learn abt coin the more i want him as my father :/

The crew thinking ed might leave them makes me even more worried abt the timeskip. Eds so relatable hitting a lil too close to home w the attachment issues codependency line

ik i probs said this before but goddamn do i love the way you portray the strawhats and their dynamics

They're finally talking abt the convo ed and luffy had and the new world and im honestly hopeful abt this, without ace at the execution stand and, again im jst assuming atp, ed taking his place marineford might go way differently. Honestly them still being able to somewhat joke around makes me feel better. At least when they get separated it'll play into what they wanted to happen and what they were planning to do

OMG OMG OMG SABO SABOOOOO MY BABY OMG WHEN I TELL YOU I SCREAMED WHEN I READ THAT HOLY SHIT

Thank you once again for blessing us with this amazing chapter, i will be off to reread it a dozen times now.

Coin is my specialist of guys and so sweet and lovely I just ADORE that parental figure-shaped man.

The way writing a Luffy POV would kill me. My man has no internal dialogue what the hell would I write for his silly goofy ass???? (I say this but I absolutely will write Luffy POV at some point, oneshot or not.)

I wonder if Coin works like an anti-Whitebeard shield. Like does his cool dad/uncle energy cancel out the daddy issues aura????

Tfw your kid is SO MUCH to brag about you gotta start before they even exist just to even hope of reaching an adequate amount of bragging. My man has that unconditional love in him where the dog should be.

The fear of abandonment came free with your SSSBMTY subscription.

[pumpkinsy0]

Can I have tally hcs ??cuz like ur one of the only ppl who thinks abt them the way I do

im actually shocked bc i swear i barely rlly talk about them???BUT ILL TRY TO NOT DISAPPOINT☝🏽☝🏽

•ion think they rlly kiss that much, like im so serious kissing is just not their thing, they probably only rlly do it when their hooking up 😭

• that lyric ”a shame that i can read ur mind” from duvet by bôa is so them i swear it is, but i specifically think tim is more aware of how alike they are, like dallas knows they are alike but tim just understands it

•they do NOT go on dates, like ever, i dont think theyve ever actually went on a date w each other, neither of them see the point, a smoke session in the designated smoking area and a drink at the bar runs these to pathetic rats fuel

•buck was the first person to find out about them ill forever hold onto this idea, they were drinking a lil too much and he thought they were just gonna fight some ppl somewhere else n leave but he saw they went upstairs and was trynna rationalize it

•ill tell u what when either one of them came downstairs putting on their shirt, buck needed a drink his damn self hes so tired of this fuck ass bar

•ik when he started going out w dally, tim stopped laughing w angela about curly going out w pony cause now he had NO place to talk about relationships and thats like one of the first things angela started noticing was a bit off w tim and that was a clue into her finding out about tim and dally LMAOOOO

•i think all the shepards love lives r a bit weird n crazy so they dont rlly meddle in each others affairs, but HOLY shit i think them talking about tims is actually so real cause???what ARE??? u thinking sir????

•i think dally and tim both generally have the same build but tims a bit beefier and dalls a bit taller so their clothes fit a LITTLE weirdly but u wont rlly be able to tell

•UNLESS that is if ur ponyboy curtis cause once pony was just STARING at tim bc he knew somethin was off, and then it clicked that tim was wearing something of dallys and tim just felt so exposed and didnt look at pony at all and tried acting like he aint notice/didnt care

•but let it be known that pony told curly and it just went “is tim wearing dallys ___” “”yea😕””😕”

•BUT BACK ON TRACK, i think they see the marks they leave on each other in fights most likely in bed and they just do NOT apologize at all, just stare and the other just rolls their eyes maybe one of em makes a slick comment

thats all i can think of rn but i swear maybe i can think of more some other time if u want em

[intertexts]

Hi here to ask nhw quastion again :3 ik ashe and the wards have Problems once ashe gets detrickstered because theyre all triggering each other and dying horribly and messily and its miserable but ! microphone emoji. do you have thoughts about how that would work specifically between virion and ashe

- @suckinitup

(also ik i havent rbed the other thing yet so yee the suck tag works for now akdhskdh i am Between Internet Names atm. and ofc i chose a url thats hard to nickname 😔)

HI!! GOD. YEAH MAN. YEAH I FUCKING DO. literally their dynamic post trickster is something i think about so much. awesome question to ask me. augh. okay. bullet pointing this for now bcos i'm on my phone....

>post-muse ashe & virion have a shared understanding of both.... enacting & witnessing close violence? in a way that nobody else really does. dakota and wibby have been through some fucked up shit!!! they have seen and been victim of and done some incredibly awful things. of course they have. they still don't understand it on as personal a level as virion does-- virion, hiding and watching his family die one by one, virion, killing capes with their own powers. (whenever i think abt virion's stint as a vigilante i think abt taylor saying it's more personal to kill a cape with her power than with a gun. perhaps it's even more personal to kill a cape with their own powers.) the intimacy of violence & the feeling of being nothing except a vessel for it & not being really sure who or what you even are anymore is something that. ashe struggles so much with, & virion Gets. he isn't, like... sympathetic? they're not wailing and crying and virion isn't pitying him. he's just... easier to talk to, sometimes. he isn't.... loudly emotional. he gets it.

>virion also is very quiet and always moves deliberately and with intention. he is like..... as opposite the trickster as possible, in terms of physicality. this-- ashe is triggered easily. wibby's eternal taut vibrating anxious energy, dakota's quick movements n loudness & such... the body language there is. similar, sometimes. it's bad when he catches it out of the corner of his eye, or feels it behind him. virion is absolutely nothing like the trickster. it's calming just being around him. (well. when you're someone he likes.) & being able to relax that constant tension that ashe still has. leading into:

>ashe doesn't touch his hair for weeks, months, maybe, after he gets back. because of. obvious reasons. (i don't remember if an actual post got made abt it but we came to the conclusion that while the trickster loves styling ashe's hair & playing with it like doll hair he does Not have the commitment or attention span for taking care of long hair. frequently he makes him do that part himself. drops his control every so often & throws him a brush & is like. clean it. ashe getting jerked back to awareness sitting very very very scared and alone and small and brushing dried blood and meat out of his hair & braiding it with shaking fingers knowing that he's only lucid as long as it takes to do this. every time it happens he's in a different place and wearing something different.) so like.... when he gets back. he has a really hard time taking care of his own hair. and also obviously a very hard time letting anyone else touch it. it gets tangled and matted and greasy & he's ashamed of it & can't do anything about it & can't bring himself to cut it off and lose one more thing that brought him joy to the trickster. it's virion who eventually helps him with it. it takes so long-- both of them sitting fully dressed in the shower for hours, ashe trying so hard not to shake apart virion going through most of a bottle of conditioner to carefully tease the knots out. virion who doesn't like talking a lot and is always quiet trying to keep up a soft running one-sided conversation the whole time so ashe knows who's behind him. (they tried mirrors and mirrors didn't go well. the trickster had a lot of mirrors.) u know. it doesn't get done in a day or even a couple weeks & sometimes virion accidentally brushes the shell of an ear or the base of his neck in a way that sets off bad sensory memory & they have to take a panicking badly break.

>re: their Problems specifically. another reason why they click like this post-muse is because. virion isn't worried about him hurting him. he and ashe are on a level playing field, when it comes to powers. like, obviously he doesn't. think. anything would happen. & ashe absolutely refuses to use his power anyway. but there's an equality there that lets ashe breathe a little easier too. and muse never hurt imprint the way that he did will or dakota. so virion's hangups when it comes to ashe are 1. he fucking Looks Like Muse. even though his body language is different and he looks like a different person with his hair back down in loose black layers & he doesn't have those orange threads around him. virion sol most paranoid guy alive. he tenses seeing him out of the corner of his eye sometimes & wakes up to see the silver mess of his hair spilling out from under the covers (u know ashe sleeps 100% under the blankets. how is he breathing under there.) & has to breath slowly for a couple minutes and watch the rise and fall of the ashe blanket lump's breath and run through every scenario in which this is muse under the comforter and not ashe and why and how it's incredibly unlikely that this would be muse etc. 2. he is afraid that. ashe/muse will hurt william and dakota. it's irrational. he's spent the past year afraid that muse will hurt william and dakota. he's paralyzed sometimes because he thinks if i leave the room and i leave will and ashe alone in there i'll come back and he'll be dead. & then also especially in the first couple months back there were. a handful of instances when virion was startled and caught off guard and ashe is up against the wall with an arm across his throat or caught in a lock before either of them realize. & it is bad for Both of them because holy shit ashe is panicking and frozen and not breathing at being manhandled like that and he's going to blame himself for this so badly in an hour because obviously it's his fault and he should have known better and of course he's a threat to them. & of course virion has to drop the grip and run away and lock himself in the bathroom out of horror because holy shit he almost just hurt ashe he almost just killed him. he would have killed him. (he wouldn't have.) he hurt him.etc etc. etc.

>ashe knows how v thinks abt him sometimes & understands it & it doesn't make him feel Very miserable because he does get it.but it makes him a little miserable sometimes. but virion's still the one who bumps their hands together so he can copy his power and float the remote over. before the trickster, ashe used to play games on his switch on the couch & virion would sit on the couch back and watch him (v hasn't really played games since his trigger event. all the ones he used to like are covered in the Ooze now.) & it would be their weird quiet bonding thing. and now virion's the one who sits near ashe on the couch and starts up animal crossing & ashe watches him play. (it takes a while for him to get his fine motor control back. he's shaky.)

>givingthis one its own bullet point because it's important post-muse ashe has a really fucking big mental block w/ using his power. he's terrified to he refuses to he Will Not. he doesn't want to hurt anyone again. virion keeps stealing his power & using it for the same shit he always uses (mundane daily little tasks) in a very pointed look. see? it's not inherently evil. it's okay. i'm not feeling threatened by what u can do right now. see? way.

[crushedsweets]

hi! just wanted to say i love how in detail your lore is. it’s very well explained and i can understand it very easily so i appreciate that lot! i was wondering if you could talk abt jeff and clockys relationship? i’m curious about how you write them together and i’ve always liked their dynamic!

HIII YOURE SO KIND THANK YOU SO MUCH im glad u can understand it easily cuz ik i do a lot of run on sentences.... OK I WILL TALK NOW

ok. ok. jeff and clocky came around the story around the same time the rest of the creeps did. right after clocky was released from the operator, she was running on rage and exhaustion.

jeff is still teetering between the operator and slenderman because he doesnt want to commit to the full process(?), since it's really painful and can take months. and he doesnt care to. but occasionally he'll take a few of the proxy's pills so he can maintain some control over himself, mostly by force tho.

they kinda both got thrown into the same barn by slenderman. clocky cant afford an apartment, jeff . . cant work. when masky or hoody force jeff to take a slender sickness pill every now and again, he like half dies for a couple days in the barn. natalie understands the pain esp cuz it happened to her most recently. so she kinda(very loosely) takes care of him , aka brings him water and weed . he's kinda grateful but he's just... such an arrogant asshole theyre ALWAYS arguing. she won't hesitate to kick him while he's down

but, of course, they have to coexist somehow. so they'll hang out, get high together, talk shit. he gets morbidly interested in what she remembers of her own kills, and she finds it.. oddly relieving to finally get it off her chest. she uses jeff like a confessional. she's told toby, but its really awkward. jeff is interested. he'll ask questions, get excited, all the weird shit. part of her hates it but again, who else will be so accepting of something like that ?

being around him runs the risk of triggering operator-related episodes, though, so they've gotten into trouble together.

toby doesnt like jeff and gets super aggravated at him and natalie being friends. but natalie thinks its really fucking annoying when tobys like 'u shouldnt hang around him' and tells him to shut up.

ofc nina eventually comes into the picture and jeff starts staying with her more often, leaving nat to the barn.

sometimes nat feels lonely and wishes he stuck around, but she just goes to stay with toby (when slender allows it). most of the time she's grateful he's away and can stop pissing her off all the damn time LOL

jeff is seriously just. ok ill admit i make him very one dimensional, but he literally doesnt care. sure he likes hanging out with her but like... he doesn't really do much in return for her, doesn't clean up the barn, doesn't get her anything, etc. he'll float between the barn and nina's apartment without much thought or consideration. but he'd kill someone for nat, if that means anything

generally theyre not close, but yk. theyre sometimes sorta parttime roommates every now and again.

[whiskeyswifty]

So Long London is THAT BITCH I love that song it’s quickly emerging as a fave from the first half. I love that you contrasted it with peace which also reminded me of “he built a fire just to keep me warm” in call it what you want and find the trajectory notable—that she seemingly accepted that help/fire given to her while he…did not and so she just kept burning herself further and further, like you said (ik u don’t care abt the men haha I’m more talking about the narrative she tells as a whole!)

I really like it a lot!! It’s one of my favorites overall easily. It’s so interesting sonically and that propulsive beat, as if she’s running away or finally moving forward after stagnation for so long! Love it.

Ooooo good point and that’s even more interesting that they build a fire to keep her warm, but she makes herself a fire to keep them warm… yeah oooof. I think I took the give and take in a So Long London as not that they rejected her help, but that her way of helping (as a non-professional in this arena) was being by their side as they went through it, or offering bandaids as each bout of sadness arises. Ultimately, they relied on those things in lieu of actually helping themselves. They had no interest in escaping that sadness long term and continued to succumb to what seems to be depression as depicted in the song, to the point where they were going to use her eternally as a source of happiness on the best days and let the depression run roughshod all over her and their relationship on the worst days. Hence why she says “you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days.” Taylor seems to say that while she herself has bouts of sadness, even a bit more than the average person in her eyes, she doesn’t want to wallow in it or at least not anymore, and desires a more proactive life. She wants to get better and be more joyful in the world. She decided she wasn’t into being with someone who was only interested in wallowing in their depression and wanted her to join them down in the darkness. And I think the CIWYW line is even sadder if you take those as being about the same relationship, as it indicates that things were good once. Maybe it was just because they were equally sad at that time and comforting each other as they both wallowed and comforted each other, who knows.

And I love most that ultimately, the song is such an adult breakup song because it’s about how sometimes you just wish someone was different. No wrongdoing or betrayal, just two people who maybe fit together once but grew apart and resent each other for not being what they each wanted and then resenting that resentment in each other. Or one person grew and the other stayed in place, rather. Happens all the time! It’s sooo refreshing and real in that way and she’s not mad at them exactly, because as you grow in age and experience, you understand you cannot change people and you cannot expect it either, so she’s just mad it came to this. Mad that they didn’t grow together and now she has to leave so much behind, lose wayyyy more than them. She lost a life! That they’d built! When she says “I’m just mad as hell cuz I love this place” god it guts me so deeply because oh god, having to rip yourself away from everything you’ve grown to love because it’s for your own good, oh goddddd its agonizing. God what a song.

Also lmaoooooo you know me! I don’t care about anyone’s boyfriend tbh, not even hers. But I’m not fully delusional in that I don’t think they exist! I don’t like to speculate about them because I truly don’t give a shit. I also fully ignore the male pronouns not because I’m insinuating anything but just honestly because I can ✌️

[nrc-confessions]

Okay here’s the whole story I apologize greatly for how long this is

So today I was cooking lunch for myself at Scarabia, (I sometimes have to cook for myself if the cafeteria doesn’t have any of my safe foods that day) and I heard someone enter the kitchen. The dorm was mostly empty so I expected it to just be some other Scarabia student I’ve never met or smth

Lo and behold, it wasn’t, it was Kalim

Me and him share a class idk if I’ve said that (new spider anon lore 🤯) and he’d gotten injured during P.E this morning so I figured he was at the dorm as well, but I assumed he’d be in his room. It wasn’t anything bad he just fell off his broom and got kinda bruised up but Jamil was still flipping his shit

ANYWAY I finished cooking and ended up sharing some food w Kalim (side note he’s eaten my food before and I’m always rlly touched abt it bcuz Ik he struggles w eating food that Jamil didn’t cook and just knowing he trusts me that much is hnnnnnng) and once we finished eating he asked if I wanted to go carpet flying

I knew he was exempt from class bcuz he got hurt but I still very much had to go to class around this time, but I was not about to miss this opportunity so alchemy be damned

We’ve gone carpet flying once or twice before but from what I understand Kalim takes rlly anyone he feels like carpet flying (including paw anon fuck you calliope I havent forgiven you) so I didn’t think too much of it but at this point I was already gay panicking so this didn’t help

Anyway we get on the carpet n all that and I was kinda starting to zone out of a few reasons, the main being i have a slight fear of heights and I was kinda exhausted cuz I’ve had a tough past couple weeks but I was also zoning out bcuz I tend to do that while in close proximity to kalim

So I went kinda quiet and just hoped he’d keep talking and wouldn’t notice (also bcuz I love listening to him ramble) but he went quiet after a second too and then asked if I was okay, and I quickly said I was fine and went back to being silent but he didn’t keep talking so it was kinda awkward for a second THEN HE FUCKIN “are you sure you’re okay, habibi?” And I almost fell off the carpet

I made a comment abt how I was just rlly tired and ended up kinda rambling then I rambled a bit too far and said like ‘and you know how I get around you’ but I laughed it off and hoped he didn’t notice but he DID and HE TOOK IT THE WEONF WAY cuz he assumed that meant I didn’t like being around him??? And so I tried to elaborate without outing myself which was rlly hard and I think he caught on but he didn’t say anything so I just kept talking and digging myself a deeper hole but then (this is where I get really pathetic) I looked at him and he just had the most gentle patient expression on his face and I just started sobbing bcuz no one’s ever looked at me like that and i can’t properly process my emotions NORMALLY much less when it’s him then he kinda panicked a little bit but then he hugged me out of nowhere and I was NOT okay but I also kinda needed it so I just kinda sat there and cried into his shoulder for a few minutes and he was like whispering things some of it was in English some of it was in Arabic and I don’t know if it was making me cry harder or helping but he was like running his fingers through my hair and I just couldn’t take it anymore and I completely lost grasp of my emotions and ended up saying I love you without even realizing it then as soon as I realized it I panicked and let go of the hug and apologized but he just put his hands on my face and looked at me with his pretty fucking eyes and said it was okay and I lost all ability to breathe

Anyway he kinda like came closer and I was expecting him to hug me again but then he like moved his hand to my shoulder and used the other one to move my hair out of my face and I just completely lost it everything I did from here on is a blurry haze I was fueled by exhaustion and Gay panic but I lunged forward and kissed him AND HE KISSED BACK AND PUT HIS HANDS IN MY HAIR AND I STARTED CRYING AGAIN but then he brought thr carpet back down and I ran off to class and I’m currently typing this while half listening to Crewel yell at me but uh that happened

-🕷️

Thank you for your confession!

[snoopysfriendwoodstock]

what's ur full ttpd song ranking and why?

omg… this will be long lol

1. who’s afraid of little old me? - taylor has tried “female rage” a couple times now and it always falls flat bc she has to be the victor/mastermind of all of it. mad woman & vigilante shit just kinda suck! FINALLY in this song she sort of admits defeat? i find it really interesting to hear her reflecting on her career & her own view of herself and the public perception of her without her feeling the need to throw a “but i’m okay! and actually i’m winning!” in at the end. also the vocals and theatrics are soooo good i just love it <3

2. the smallest man who ever lived - that ENDING. this takes me back to some very classic taylor songs, especially the dear john bridge or last kiss bridge and as a speak now girl i can’t get enough.

3. the prophecy - both people who love this song and people who hate it reduce it down to “she’s sad she doesn’t have a boyfriend” but imo this song perfectly captures the ACHE of being someone who just always has a little ribbon of loneliness running through them. it’s that dark middle of the night place you can’t let yourself go to. and it’s PERFECT.

4. so high school - i don’t have a lot to say here but this is the song she’s talking abt when she says she’s putting narcotics in them. i love it so much. do that impression you did of your dad again ❤️

5. but daddy i love him - i love her delusional ass! also the “i’m having his baby” line is soooo funny sorry!

6. guilty as sin? - there’s a reason this one’s a fan favorite! it’s just soooo good. there’s nothing wrong with a sexy song.

7. so long, london - “i’m just mad as hell cause i loved this place” is such a taylor line. so simply devastating. i think she got away from just very simply stating her emotions/feelings in her newer albums but this song has soooo many lines that go back to that form of writing that she’s so good at. “stopped trying to make him laugh” is another one that really hits.

8. loml - this hits my favorite genre of taylor swift song that is just so sad it’s almost like oh my god you have to stop… what a valiant roar! what a bland goodbye!

9. the black dog - ik i’m kind of a broken record at this point but “i just don’t understand how you don’t miss me” is SOOOO taylor. very early taylor! and i love the idea of taylor swift having someone’s location on her phone. she is sooo pathetic she’s just like me!

10. the bolter - songs used to be STORIES!

11. the alchemy - i can’t explain it. it just scratches my brain really well. i love how it soundssss

12. fresh out the slammer - i LOVE the chorus on this one. and i love when it slows down at the end and gets kinda weird.

13. clara bow - i LOVE this song. i love how haunting it is i love “you look like taylor swift” i love how pessimistic it is as an album closer. it feels like folklore again w/ hoax as the last song. she said we are NOT in change/long live/begin again/clean/new years day/daylight hours anymore we have LOST hope. in fact it’s super interesting compared to change/long live that are all optimistic about the industry/making a name for herself bc now she’s realized there were other taylor swifts before and there will be other taylor swifts later.

14. how did it end? - another just absolute fucking banger of a sad song. the commentary on fame/the public/her fanbase hits.

15. i hate it here - unfortunately this song is sooooo me it’s not even funny.

16. i can do it with a broken heart - who is this “nobody” that doesn’t know she’s miserable? i love this song it’s so funny. “i cry a lot but i am so productive” is a lyric that was necessary for society

17. my boy only breaks his favorite toys - this song grew on me SO much. it’s so pathetic i love it.

18. florida!!! - this song rocks so hard. i think taylor & florence’s voices compliment each other so much

19. the albatross - i love her voice on this one. she’s here to destroy you!!!

20. the tortured poets department - i love this one i’m sorry. i love the sound i love that it feels like she’s trying something new i love how cringe and desperate it is. also lucy dacus mention!

21. peter - i wish i understood this song the way a lot of people do but it’s simply not my favorite! i do love the way she keeps repeating “you said you were gonna grow up then you were gonna come find me” in the chorus. don’t listen to this & never grow up back to back. it’s not funny.

22. down bad - hated this one at first but it has REALLY grown on me. i love the alien abduction metaphor! “i might just die it would make no difference” is like come on girl get up

23. i look in people’s windows - love this one, don’t listen to it much. but never skip when it’s on. her voice is gorgeous and i loveee the writing on it

24. the manuscript - again, i don’t choose to put this one on much but holy shiiiitttt… now she eats kids cereal? and can only sleep if it’s in her mother’s bed?

25. cassandra - i love the idea of this and it has some great lyrics but i feel like she didn’t quite get it off the ground? i love the bridge. it’s like ALMOST there. cassandra is my favorite mythological figure so maybe i just had really high expectations.

26. imgonnagetyouback - this will for sure rise in the rankings soon bc i’m finally getting it. it’s so fun, just not as good as a lot of the anthology tracks.

27. fortnight - i don’t love this one, but the chorus is really catchy. & post malone’s verse is the best part, that gets stuck in my head all the time.

28. thanK you aIMee - god this song is so funny. “everybody knows my mother is a saintly woman but she used to say she wished that you were dead!” i’m just kinda sick of these kind of songs from her if that makes sense?

29. chloe or sam or sophia or marcus - i’m waiting for this one to click!!! i’m sure it will & there’s parts i REALLY like but i skip it every single time

30. robin - i’m sorry it’s a skip from me. it’s beautiful but i’m never ever wanting to hear it. it’s sweet! but not for me

31. i can fix him (no really i can) - idk the rhythm and tempo of this song doesn’t work for me. it sucks bc her voice is so sexy on this one & i love the pathetic aspect but i always skip. it’s not as bad as my least favorite on other albums tho <3