It had been quite some time since the two had seen each other; after all, the distance between them had proven it difficult to maintain a relationship. It was his doing; Nanami knows this. He was the one who left, the one who created the distance between them in the first place. He figures choosing between life as a jujutsu sorcerer and the semblance of a normal life would have been easy if it weren't for Brooke. Nanami had proposed she come with him when he decided to take his leave – and though her response was not what he wanted to hear... he understood. It was a noble purpose, a noble cause. But it was one he nonetheless felt he had to distance himself from.

Try they might, they fell apart rather quickly. Distance between them – with Brooke on the outskirts of Tokyo and Nanami closer to its busy center – led to the unraveling of their relationship. And soon enough, their interactions diminished from visiting each other... to calls... to the occasional text.

But today? Well, today – Brooke had been handling business near his area. So, she reached out. Dinner? Suddenly, they had dinner plans.

"You look well," Nanami greets her, pulling her chair out for her as she enters the restaurant and approaches their table. The words feel foreign on his tongue. She looks... well? (If he wanted to be honest, he'd tell her she looks more than just... well. In fact, she looks beautiful, but – time and place. Neither are here. And perhaps they never would be again.)

❛ Tch. ❜ Fake angry. Evie knew exactly which buttons to press to make Levi react in this way. And Levi was, at this point aware, that she was definitely doing it on purpose. Though he holds her down by her wrists, Evie had still been free enough to move up and kiss his nose. Levi's eyes narrow a bit as she, now satisfied with herself, lets her head hit the pillow again.

❛ You're a goddamn brat, you know that? ❜ Levi grumbles. His fingers tighten around her wrists as he moves them above her head, crossing one over the other. He then uses one hand to pin them both down, his eyes alone demanding that she not move. He shifts slightly, bringing one of his knees up and knocking her legs apart. He pushes his knee up further – between her thighs – as his free hand snakes down to slide underneath the fabric of her shirt.

Levi says nothing at first, simply studying her expressions as she squirms underneath him. His lips twitch smugly when he hears Evie's breath hitch as his hand moves upwards. He's soon moving down again, being sure to keep his grasp on her wrists; he lowers himself and pauses right above her lips – they barely touch, and they are simply left to breathe each other's air for a moment.

' Levi. ' Evie breathes his name out; he knows she's going to try to wriggle her way out, or convince him to let her move, so Levi's lips connect with hers. And as soon as he hears her attempt to say his name again, his tongue slips into her mouth.

@lvenderhze !

"Aw, did you make these for me?" Satoru calls out to Emmy in a singsongy voice. Needless to say – he's found the cupcakes. (The very cupcakes he is well-aware she made for the entire faculty.) But anyone who knows Satoru knows that he has quite the sweet tooth. And anyone who knows Emmy knows that her baking might as well be Kryptonite for the likes of Satoru. Especially her cupcakes.

In fact, he had already eaten one before even calling out to her, and he's already on his second. The dead giveaway, of course, would be the red icing on his lip – despite the fact that he is currently holding a cupcake with blue icing in his hand. Emmy finds him like this often when she brings in baked gods, and this afternoon is no exception.

At long last – it's Friday. And though the students of Tokyo Metropolitan were always on the clock as jujutsu sorcerers, Friday evening meant no class. So, as soon as they are dismissed from their last lecture of the day, Yuji leaps from his desk and trots over to Marley. She's in the midst of gathering her class materials; stacking her books and tucking her pens away.

It isn't uncommon for Satoru to have a little fun taking down special grades – within reason, of course. Still, times come where he figures he should take a backseat. This would be one of those times.

Give me a few seconds with him, Satoru had instructed Emmy as they raised the veil, I'll give you the signal when it's your turn.

And, of course, in true Gojo Satoru fashion, he had failed to specify what exactly that signal would be.

So – when Emmy's attack comes sooner than he had initially expected, Satoru is, needless to say, surprised. (Albeit pleasantly.) He takes a leap back as the vines shoot through the special grade, tethering it to the ground.

"What, you don't have them?" The words leave his lips, laced with an air of nonchalantness, as Satoru enters the kitchen. It's near-impossible to tell whether he's joking half the time. (And on occasion, Satoru hardly knows whether he is himself.) His hands, which were previously stuffed into his pockets, don't remain there for long, likely much to Evie's dismay. He's soon approaching her, pulling out the stool directly beside her and plopping down onto it. Get started? Well, he concludes, that could mean a multitude of things.

His chin finds its place in his palm, sunglass-covered eyes watching her as she pours her coffee into her mug. By the way she's moving, Satoru can tell she must have just woken up. Unfortunate for her; terrific for him – after all, he enjoys pushing buttons.