#this conversation where we realized we experience��the world

[poopylumpkins]

I finally watched this movie, it hit me so hard.

I’d been listening to the soundtrack for a while, as a bad habit, I tend to listen to movie soundtracks before watching the source material—and I’m really into Yeule’s music—so I discovered the movie thru the release of their featured song in the movie.

I finally gave it a chance and, wow.

Huge tangent under the cut <3

I’m nonbinary. I’m afab. This movie resonated with me so much.

Making this discovery was a hard one, it was like I’d opened Pandora’s Box.

One of my other (dearest) friends had come out as nb when we were younger and it scared me, it was something I was aware of but pushed away in fear of discovery. Same with my lesbian identity. But the TV kept glowing, I wouldn’t lose them over my own cowardice. Eventually I realized I was lesbian, I’d realized I was trans.

Sometimes I feel connected to womanhood, to my femininity.

For the sake of others, I sacrifice my otherness for their comfort. I go by all pronouns because I’m afraid of dropping “she” from everyone else’s mind. I go by they/she in public spaces where I feel safe enough to do so, but at home, I’m still just a woman, I’m still “her”. Only that.

And it’s difficult reconciling this when I do dress femininely, when I let my friends call me woman. Even when I do that to myself, because I am, paradoxically, as I am not. I don’t know, gender is hard. I present as a woman to a lot of people, so I have experiences socialized as such.

Not to tote any weird superiority complexes, but I like the way God is described in the bible. “I am that I am.” The image of everyone, man, woman, otherwise, all simultaneously.

I feel maybe it’s like that for me, with womanhood. I am woman, I am something else. I like masculine terms for myself sometimes. Sometimes it feels like an empty space. Like [Owen] described it on the bleachers to [Maddy]. I severely hate overly gendered conversation. As a transmasc person, I do like dude and bro but yk even that gets tiresome.

“Yes, Girl.”

“Queen.”

“Miss.”

Only my closest friends call me by “they/them” pronouns, even then, I let it slip when they don’t get it right. But they know me for who I am beyond the screen, and I do just go by any pronouns. But we’re also just used to pushing that away in the eyes of others who don’t see the screen glowing.

In I Saw The TV Glow, Owen and Isabel are parallels to each other (because they are one and the same), they’re both too cowardly for confrontation, Isabel realizes she’s dying [as Owen] and apologizes for the sake of others’ comfort, at the end of the movie, at the outburst her realization causes.

The ending is left up to interpretation, whether she buries herself in the ground with Tara, or she continues to die, living a life as someone fake.

I like to remain hopeful, optimistic. Though, “there is still time,” might read as a warning—you still have time, but it will run out eventually—I see it as a message of hope for those of us who can’t explore our gender identities as freely as others. An eventuality.

During the wire breakage scene, where [Owen] finds herself stopped in the road—where she finds the burning papers of the episode guides, she reads “S06:e01” I like to think that that is where the movie ends and her true life begins. She does break out of the midnight realm.

She doesn’t continue to cower away, though she is wont to do. She opened her chest up and saw her missing heart, saw the “Pink Opaque,” and ran back to Tara, leaving this world behind, and saving face with her apologies.

..

This movie also filled me with existential dread.

When [Owen] watched the finale’s tape, when she launched her head into the tv and mourned the fact that her father wasn’t really her father—a foreboding, looming figure representing prominent patriarchal ideals—when she told us about how it was “time to become a real man,” when her father died, further burying herself into this life that wasn’t hers with a family that wasn’t either—it was terrifying.

We never see that family she had onscreen, and the mention of them makes [Owen] look so defeated. She watches the “Pink Opaque” again and it isn’t as she remembers. Just as Mr. Melancholy said would happen.

“Soon you won’t even remember that you’re dying.”

Whole movie was such a harrowing, representative experience. I sobbed. I mourned. It was like mourning for a past me, for the parts of myself that must stay hidden, for covering the screen.

And the fact that Tara was relatively butch in her real life, but was an awkward girl experimenting with her feminine expression up until she realized she had to escape in the Midnight Realm. I felt connection to her expression as much as I did Isabel’s egg crack.

They were so lesbians for each other, too, be it in a qpp sense or in another way.

…

Here I am listening to the OST again, replaying Yeule’s cover of “Anthems for a 17-year-old Girl,” on my 20th birthday (oh yeah that’s today) and just.. feeling such a frenzy of emotions.

Ultimately, just—

There will still be time. You’ll bury the you that isn’t authentic in the ground and rise as your truest form eventually. There will always be eventually. There will always be you..

I will be there waiting for me.

But I know that's not true. That's just fantasy. Kid's stuff.

I SAW THE TV GLOW (2024) dir. Jane Schoenbrun

[bagelbucket]

bold take we aren’t ready for is that people think they’re trans just because they don’t align with society’s “ideal” gender roles when in fact it’s just their personality. or because of internalized biphobia.

[writhe]

[yuanist]

kuroo texts you at 3:52 am, almost three months after you broke up.

admittedly, you probably should've silenced notifications from him by now, but when you roll over—eyes barely open, a little headache from the light—you know you're much, much too late.

a text, from your ex-boyfriend, the big, blue bubble stretched across your phone.

i just moaned your name during sex.

you blink at the screen.

you what?

moaned your name, he sends. totally ruined the moment.

you look up, and then down, and then up one more time to make sure what you’re looking it is real and not some strange, midnight hallucination before typing again.

you’re fucking with me, right?

dead serious, he replies. worst moment of my life.

you can hear his voice in the text, and if you weren’t so caught up in thinking about the poor girl who probably just had the worst sexual experience of her life, you would laugh.

you need to find a hobby or something, tetsurou. you send. and preferably one that doesn't involve tinder.

i have hobbies!

non-sexual ones?

he types for a while before a short, little totally! pops up on his side of the conversation.

and you hate that this is the part of him that’s most intriguing. the unintentional charm, too weird for his own good part that keeps you texting him at four in the morning.

yeah, you send, quicker than you intended. totally.

and suddenly, you're really considering something you shouldn't. before tonight, you hadn't heard from in a while—at least not enough to be thinking about him. you'd resigned yourself to your little, single life and you figured boyfriends might be more harm than they're worth (at least for a while, anyway), but now you have a new little do you wanna come over? typed out into your messaging app, finger hovering over the send button.

you take a minute, trying to rationalize.

the responsible part of you thinks it's way too late to be asking for anything good. you have class in the morning, and you're all tucked into bed, and bringing him here would really stir up some old feelings you weren't looking to bring back right now.

the other part of you—the more fun of the two, you'll admit—knows that you're thinking about him and he's... definitely thinking of you, so what's the harm in indulging a little bit? maybe nothing would happen anyway and you'd just end up staring at each other for a while, but sitting in your bed alone, staring doesn't sound like the worst thing in the world.

you send the text.

there's radio silence for a moment, and you think you might have just fucked the whole we can be exes and friends! thing up, but after a moment or two, he replies.

really?

and you sigh, don't make me change my mind.

he sends an immediate be there in 10, and you flop yourself back into the pillows.

now, okay, you'd be lying if you said you haven't been in this situation before. you and kuroo have always had a strange habit of—gravitating towards each other, to put it politely. it doesn't matter how many times you guys swear each other off, there's always going to be a party, or a text, or a run-in at the grocery store that brings you together (in more ways than one).

the whole i just moaned your name thing, though, that one's new.

your eyes flicker up to the ceiling, then down to your feet, and then, finally, your phone—the reality of this whole thing sinking in a little.

are you supposed to—shave your legs for this? put on your good pajamas: the ones that ride up a little when you bend over? is that where this is going? you're pretty sure it is, but every time this has happened before, it's been a little more spontaneous than this. right now, you have time to prepare and time to think, which you're now realizing is something you really did not want.

you sit there for a minute, coming to the conclusion that this is kuroo. you dated for two years, and you shared a bed at night for more of that time than you'd care to admit, so what does it matter how prepared you are?

you hear a key turn in the front door (the one from under the mat; you took away his actual key you think) and, all of a sudden, you're kind of nervous.

you haven't felt this way in a while, especially when it comes to him. you think you might hate it.

nevertheless, your feet hit the floor and you let yourself pad your way into the entryway, just in time to see someone sliding his shoes into the gap between the doorway and the wall.

you flick the light on, and he jumps a little.

a beat of silence, and then, "hi."

that's all you can come up with right now, truly, and you blame half of it on the time and the other half on the fact that kuroo looks like that.

he's always been pretty, no doubt about that, but right now he looks a little beat up in a way that you have to admit you're kind of into.

his hair's messed up: half of it shifted more left than right, with a little curl to it that he doesn't normally have. his cheeks are red, and he's a sort of out of breath and—did he run here?

"hi," he says, smiling, heaving out a breath.

(oh, he totally did. maybe you're a little more alluring than you thought).

you chuckle out one more, final hi, before he steps towards you.

he smells good—not that that's something you focus on, obviously—but he's still wearing that cologne you bought him last christmas and there's a little tinge of sweat to him that suits him so much better than you'd think.

he has a t-shirt on—one you got from a concert a couple years ago; you can't remember exactly when anymore, but it's clear that the thing has gotten its wear. the hole in the left shoulder is glaring at you from here and you kind of want to poke it.

"i have your key, by the way," he says then, dangling the little thing between his fingers. "did you ask for it back?"

oops.

"i—meant to." you snatch it from him, tossing it onto one of the side tables. "definitely meant to."

his hand lingers there for a second, a big, toothy smile spread across his face. "oh, sure you did."

and you eye him, a short what's that supposed to mean? rolling out of your lips.

he shakes his head, moving closer again—so much so that you can feel the cast of his breath along your cheeks.

"you still like me," he says, and you swear you can see his vocal cords bob in his throat.

"pardon?"

"you think i'm fun—and endearing, and still worthy of a house key."

"i think you're nuts." you say, fluttering your lashes a little. "and really not in the position to be making these accusations."

"you really think so?" he leans in one more time, close enough that his lips brush that arch between your jaw and your neck. "go ahead—tell me all about how crazy i am."

you feel something inside you quiver.

this right here, this is the whole game between the two of you. some sick little cat-and-mouse thing that always leads to something that you regret in the morning and—inevitably—repeat next week.

truthfully, though, you're getting kind of sick of fighting it.

"god, i can't stand you." you back away, edging towards the hallway that leads to your room. "are you coming with me or what?"

and he grins, because of course he is.

reblogs are appreciated! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[dannyphannypack]

Writing ASL: Techniques to Write Signed Dialogue

Hey, guys! I've been reading a lot of DC Batfamily fanfiction lately, and in doing so I realized how little I see of ASL being represented in written text (love you, Cass!). I wanted to briefly talk about tactics to writing American Sign Language (ASL), and ways that these techniques can help improve your writing in more general contexts!

SOME THINGS BEFORE WE GET STARTED

I will be discussing everything in terms of ASL! If you have a character who uses Chinese Sign Language or even British Sign Language, the same rules will not necessarily apply! Don't be afraid to do some extra research on them.

Do not let this dissuade you from writing a character who signs ASL! This is by no means the end-all be-all to writing ASL dialogue, and I do not intend this post to insinuate that by writing ASL the same way you write English you are deeply offending the Deaf community. If this is something you're interested in though, I highly recommend experimenting with the way you write it! Above all, have fun with your writing.

Related to 2nd rule, but still very important: not everyone will agree that sign language should be treated/written any differently than English. This is a totally valid and understandable stance to take! I do not hope to invalidate this stance by making this post, but rather to introduce an interested audience to how ASL operates in the modern world, and how that can be translated into text.

ADDRESSING SOME MISCONCEPTIONS

ASL is the same as English, just with gestures instead of words.

Actually, no! There is a language that exists that is like that: it's called Signing Exact English, and it's an artificial language; i.e., it did not come about naturally. All languages came from a need to communicate with others, and ASL is no different! It is a language all on it's own, and there is no perfect 1:1 way to translate it to English, just as any spoken language.

2. But everyone who signs ASL knows how to read English, don't they?

No, actually! Because it's a completely different language, people who sign ASL and read English can be considered bilingual: they now know two languages. In fact, fingerspelling a word to a Deaf person in search for the correct sign does not usually work, and is far from the preferred method of conversing with Deaf people.

3. Because ASL does not use as many signs as we do words to articulate a point, it must be an inferior language.

Nope! ASL utilizes 5 complex parameters in order to conversate with others: hand shape, palm orientation, movement, location, and expression. English relies on words to get these points across: while we may say "He's very cute," ASL will sign, "He cute!" with repeated hand movement and an exaggerated facial expression to do what the "very" accomplishes in the English version: add emphasis. Using only ASL gloss can seem infantilizing because words are unable to portray what the other four parameters are doing in a signed sentence.

4. Being deaf is just a medical disability. There's nothing more to it.

Fun fact: there is a difference between being deaf and being Deaf. You just said the same thing twice? But I didn't! To be deaf with a lowercase 'd' is to be unable to hear, while being Deaf with an uppercase is to be heavily involved in the Deaf community and culture. Deaf people are often born deaf, or they become deaf at a young age. Because of this, they attend schools for the Deaf, where they are immersed in an entirely different culture from our own. While your family may mourn the loss of your grandfather's hearing, Deaf parents often celebrate discovering that their newborn is also deaf; they get to share and enjoy their unique culture with their loved one, which is a wonderful thing!

YOU MENTIONED ASL GLOSS. WHAT IS THAT?

ASL gloss is the written approximation of ASL, using English words as "labels" for each sign. ASL IS NOT A WRITTEN LANGUAGE, so this is not the correct way to write it (there is no correct way!): rather, it is a tool used most commonly in classrooms to help students remember signs, and to help with sentence structure.

IF THERE'S NO CORRECT WAY TO WRITE IN ASL, THEN HOW DO I DO IT?

A most astute observation! The short answer: it's up to you. There is no right or wrong way to do it. The longer answer? Researching the culture and history, understanding sign structure, and experimenting with description of the 5 parameters are all fun ways you can take your ASL dialogue to the next level. Here are 3 easy ways you can utilize immediately to make dialogue more similar to the way your character is signing:

Sign languages are never as wordy as spoken ones. Here's an example: "Sign languages are never wordy. Spoken? Wordy." Experiment with how much you can get rid of without the meaning of the sentence being lost (and without making ASL sound goo-goo-ga-ga-y; that is to say, infantilizing).

Emotion is your friend. ASL is a very emotive language! If we were to take that sentence and get rid of the unnecessary, we could get something like "ASL emotive!" The way we add emphasis is by increasing the hand motion, opening the mouth, and maybe even moving the eyebrows. It can be rather intuitive: if you mean to say very easy, you would sign EASY in a flippant manner; if you mean to say so handsome, you would sign handsome and open your mouth or fan your face as if you were hot. Think about a game of Charades: how do you move your mouth and eyebrows to "act out" the word? How are you moving your body as your teammates get closer? There are grammar rules you can certainly look up if you would like to be more technical, too, but this is a good place to start!

Practice describing gestures and action. ASL utilizes three dimensional space in a lot of fun and interesting ways. Even without knowing what a specific sign is, describing body language can be a big help in deciphering the "mood" of a sentence. Are they signing fluidly (calm) or sharply (angry)? Are their signs big (excited) or small (timid)? Are they signing rushedly (impatient) or slowly? Messily (sad) or pointedly (annoyed)? Consider what you can make come across without directly addressing it in dialogue! Something ese about ASL is that English speakers who are learning it tend to think the speakers a little nosy: they are more than able to pick up on the unsaid, and they aren't afraid to ask about it.

Above all, don't be afraid to ask questions, do research or accept advice! New languages can be big and scary things, but don't let that make you shy away. Again, there is nothing wrong with deciding to write ASL the same as you write your English. I've personally found that experimenting with ASL dialogue in stories has aided me in becoming more aware of how to describe everything, from sappy emotional moments to action-packed fighting scenes. Writing ASL has helped me think about new ways to improve my description in more everyday contexts, and I hope it can be a big help to you as well, both in learning about Deaf culture and in pursuing your future writing endeavors. :)

P.S: I am quite literally only dipping my toes into the language and culture. I cannot emphasize how important it is to do your own research if it's someting you're interested in!

P.P.S: I want to apologize for my earlier P.S! What I meant by “I am … dipping my toes into the language and culture” was in direct regards to the post; what I should have said is “this post is only dipping its toes into the language and culture.” While I am not Deaf myself, I am a sophomore in college minoring in ASL and Deaf Culture, and I am steadily losing my hearing. Of course, that does not make me an authority figure on the topic, which is why I strongly encourage you to do your own research, ask your own questions, and consult any Deaf friends, family, or online peers you may have.

[sheepwavehdg]

Many of HDG's loudest detractors miss the point when they describe the setting as horror. They are not wrong, but because they do not engage with the themes, subtext and metaphors at play, instead focusing on a purely literal understanding of the setting, they don't understand why they find it so offputting. They yell about humanity never reaching its full potential, or the violations of individual spirit that lie at its heart. HDG imagines a world where the kind of treatment that the severely disabled among us experience is universal.

And yeah... Fair. A factual recount of my life is actually pretty horrifying.

HDG exists in conversation with disability. It is not about being trans or queer, though there is obviously a lot of overlap. It is about imagining a world where those who have disabilities are cared for, and pulling apart the complicated feelings that authors have about the loss of control required for that to happen.

The mechanics of the specific allegories that HDG employs to examine disability frequently lean into noncon, but remember, nobody who is disabled asked to be, and we are frequently the victims of systemic abuse they the Affini are often a cathartic reclaiming of.

HDG is about a world where you go through that and emerge with a promise that you will be cared for on the other side. That you don't have to navigate systems seemingly intentionally designed for you to fall through the cracks, where you won't be expected to be able to do what everyone else is capable of.

HDG is also written by those of us who survived. Straight up, I should be dead, and it is only through the incredible support of my loved ones that I have a home at all. Those of us who can live to tell the tale of severe disability are, by definition, biased to examine caretaker and provider roles.

The moment you realize you are truly disabled, that you will never, ever live the life you have been promised, where a doctor infantalizes and criticizes you for things you never had control over, is a kind of death. The breaking of the narrative that you have the ability to fully self determine is painful. It leaves you forever changed.

This is a fact of the setting that is easily lost under the joy inherent to kink. Traumatized and broken people deserve joy, and I don't think the utopian elements of HDG don't belong, but they are not the whole picture.

Some of my examinations are happy, like Good Sensory. Others examine how hard it is to trust after being kicked for so long, like Cat and Mouse. All are messy and personal.

HDG describes a world where everyone like me survives. The life I live every day, but made safe, and comfortable, for everyone. And to some, that is one of the most scary things they can imagine.

[ja3hwa]

☜𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑☞

October is finally here. The month where Fanfic writers run wild with their ideas and fantasies. This is my first time writing this event, and I was honestly so stressed but very excited about it. So, without further ado, let's get started. ♥︎

All works are mature, viewers be advised.

Masterlist | Navigation

—

Day 1: Car Sex - [Gloomy Days]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : A trip turned sour due to a storm. But, luckily, Yunho knows just the thing in turning this gloomy day into a more steamy one.

Day 2: Voyeurism - [Eyes On Me]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Biker Gang Leader doesn't like sharing unless it's to do with his best friend.

Day 3: Shower Sex - [Just One Moment]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : When Jongho comes from a long and stressful day, he only wants one thing... You bent over.

Day 4: Food Play - [The Sweetness Of You]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : It all started with a simple dinner and a movie. But when Seonghwa asked if you wanted dessert, you knew your sugar was about to spike from more than just the sweetness of the fruits and chocolate.

Day 5: Exhibitionism - [Dimly Lit Bathroom]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Wooyoung couldn't keep his hands off you on a regular basis. But when he sees you in such a sexy outfit, he has no choice but to drag you to the nearest bathroom.

Day 6: Rough/Possessive sex - [Whoops]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You wanted to show your hot-headed lover that you could protect yourself. And what better way than to go looking for his number on rival....

Day 7: Thigh riding/dry humping - [Dedicated To You]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You sweet producer boyfriend wanted to share something with you. But your neediness had other plans.

Day 8: Sensory Deprivation - [He Has Control]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You were his work of art, and he loved to watch you squirm under him.

Day 9: Cock Warning - [Pure Relaxation]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Jongho kept losing over and over again. Becoming increasingly more frustrated as time passes, it's a good thing you are here to help him cool off.

Day 10: Bondage - [Pretty Boy]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : It's Yeosangs turn to know what it feels like to have rope pull and tug on his beautiful skin, and he can't help my whimper at the sheer idea of it.

Day 11: Bike Sex/Edging - [A Ride That To Last A Lifetime]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Yeosang had begged for weeks for you to go for a ride with him... Cavinging in, you finally realize how pleasurable it is to ride his bike.

Day 12: Size Kink/Size Difference - [Why So Tense?]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Your two professors want nothing more than to help you with your studies. Personally gifting you some private lessons...

Day 13: Breath Play - [Make You Mine]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : San can't help but send death glares to any man that tried to have your attention for too long. Too bad you dont belong to him...yet.

Day 14: Marking/Biting - [Intoxicated]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Your friend needed your help with trying out one of her experiments and let's just say Mingi was about to never let you leave the bedroom ever again because of it.

Day 15: Corruption - [God isn't here]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Bad Boy Hongjoong wanted to change for you. Be the better man you deserved, but what if you ended up changing more than him?

Day 16: Spit Play - [Love, Lust Has No Bounds]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You were in love with the enemy, and oh, how it was it exciting.

Day 17: Fingering/Squirting - [Move]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You needed him, any part of him. But Seonghwa wanted to see you squirm. To see you cry and beg for him to satisfy you.

Day 18: Toys/Mirror sex - [The Perfect Gift]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Hongjoong couldn't decide what gift to buy you while we was traveling. So he bought them all and now wants you to try them out. Every. Single. One.

Day 19: Dacryphillia/Clit Play - [Prove It]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Late night conversations aren't suppose to end in sex... right?

Day 20: Sex pollen - [Out Of This World]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You were gifted an alien plant from one of your friends that lived off the planet since you loved greenery. Little did anyone know the pollen had some weird side effects when inhaled.

Day 21: Temperature Play - [Cold To The Touch]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Your undead lover had finally come back from a late night hunt, finding you shivering from the winter weather. But do not fret, as he was...skilled in keeping others warm-ish.

Day 22: Double Penetration - [New Member]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You're the newest member to join one of the most famous rock bands. And luckily for you they are all hot...and fuckable.

Day 23: Praise/Body Worship - [Goddess Amongst Commoners]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Overhearing for so called friends make fun about your "failures" in life made your loving mobboss boyfriend very unhappy. No one makes his Honey cry.

Day 24: Cum Play/overstim - [Milk Me Dry]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Wooyoung couldn't help it. Every time he saw you, he felt himself grow heavy in his slacks. You were everything he needed. And he needed you now.

Day 25: Caught in the act - [Leave Or Join]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You wanted to help your boyfriend relax. It just so happened that some poor soul decided to interrupt.

Day 26: Power Play/Mafia - [Black Card]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You were hiding a big secret from your two loving boyfriends. What happens when they finally find out?

Day 27: Succubus/incubus - [You Make Me, Make Sense]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Halloween is filled with spooky ghost stories and haunted places. But what if you end up walking right into a nightmare that was hiding a dream?

Day 28: Tentacles - [Planet 3564AB]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You were a mercenary, searching for your next job in the galaxy. Little did you know, being stuck on a wateland planet was about to gift you more than just galactic credits.

Day 29: Monster Fuckers - [My Everything]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Rain was pouring, and your heart was aching. You didn't care what the villagers nor that priest thought about him. You loved him, and you were going to prove it.

Day 30: Werewolf On Heat/Breeding - [Let Me Help]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You didn't know what it meant to be on heat let alone know you could have one since you weren't a wolf... but here you were and Yunho was going to help you through it.

Day 31: Trick or Treat - [Eternally Ours]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : The night was cold, the manor even colder. Until a fire of pure lust was lit.

—

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.

© Ja3honey. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

[lostfracturess]

remedies and reasons | ch. 03

pairing — professor geto x law student reader

summary — this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken.

word count — 11.8 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference (10 years), doctor-patient relationship, smoking, alcohol use, mature themes, and depictions of illness. reader discretion is advised.

author's note — hey everyone! i'm back with a new chapter, and i know it's been a while. this time, we're diving back into suguru's head to explore his conflicting feelings. as always, this story is a spin-off of symptoms and causes, starting after chapter 12, but it can be read as a standalone. this chapter takes place during the events of chapter 14, where things were pretty intense, so get ready for suguru's perspective on those events, plus some extra bonding time with a certain law student.

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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(note: r&r reader)

What a strange fucking day.

The coffee from the hospital cafeteria tasted like burnt rubber, leaving a bitter aftertaste that matched my state perfectly. Everything felt slightly out of sorts, like the world had shifted two inches to the left while I wasn't looking, and I was the only one who noticed.

I'd put on mismatched socks this morning, didn't notice until I was already at work. Stepped in a puddle that somehow soaked through my supposedly waterproof shoes. Small things, really. Inconsequential. But they piled up like evidence that I wasn't quite myself lately.

And on top of that, my mind kept drifting back to the sports bar, to easy laughter and surprisingly good conversation. To someone who actually managed to make me forget about work for a few hours. It was... nice. Different. Unsettling. Probably why I let things get carried away. 

What the hell had gotten into me?

I wasn't the type to hook up in bar bathrooms. I didn't do reckless. I was the responsible one, always cleaning up other people's messes — usually Satoru's. 

Yet here I was, distracted and unfocused because of a law student who somehow got under my skin without me even realizing it. Frustrating. That's what it was.

I stared at the ruined samples in front of me, the third batch I'd had to throw out this morning. A stupid beginner's mistake — mixing the reagents in the wrong order like some first-year med student. The solution had turned an ugly shade of red instead of the pale blue it was supposed to be, completely useless now.

I slammed the test tube rack down harder than necessary, making the glass containers rattle. A few drops of the failed experiment splashed onto my lab coat. Perfect. Just perfect.

I glanced at Satoru across the lab bench. He'd been staring at the same equation for twenty minutes now, his leg bouncing that infuriating rhythm that made me want to stab him with my pen. The same nervous energy that had been radiating off him all morning. Neither of us was really focused on work it seemed.

"You going to tell me what's wrong, or do I have to guess?" I finally asked, perhaps partly to distract myself from my own thoughts.

He blinked, as if just remembering I was there. "Nothing's wrong."

"Really? Because you've been glaring at that formula for like an hour."

"Maybe I just enjoy looking at my own handwriting. It's pretty, isn't it? Unlike yours."

"At least the nurses can read my prescriptions without three callbacks."

"That was one time." He spun in his chair to face me. "And the pharmacy figured it out eventually."

I need a cigarette.

No, I need several cigarettes.

I was about to retort when a soft knock echoed through the lab. We both turned toward the door, and suddenly all my annoyance vanished. It was her.

Standing there in the doorway, clutching a folder to her chest, looking almost nervous. Her eyes darted between Satoru and me, and I could see the moment she registered the awkwardness of the situation.

She was wearing a crisp blazer, her hair pulled back neatly — every inch the professional law intern. Maybe it was the confused sleep deprivation talking, but I swore I caught a hint of pink creeping across her cheeks when our eyes briefly met before she looked away.

"Oh," she said. "I didn't expect to find you both here."

Satoru straightened up, his demeanor shifting instantly to doctor mode. "Everything okay? Is it your medication?"

"No, no," she quickly assured him. "Actually, I'm here about the... um, the legal consultation from the other day?" She held up the folder. "Mr. Higurama asked me to get both your signatures on these forms."

"More paperwork?" Satoru groaned theatrically. "They really love their forms at that firm, don't they? I bet they have forms for their forms."

She laughed — not the bold, uninhibited laugh from the bar, but something smaller, more contained. Professional. It was strange seeing her like this, all sharp edges and formal wear, when just days ago we'd been trading stories over beer and darts.

"Well," she said, stepping fully into the lab, "we do love forms, yes." Her eyes landed on the mess of failed experiments on our benches, the chaos of scribbles on the whiteboard. I just now realized how utterly chaotic the whole lab was. "Bad time?"

"No," I said, maybe too quickly. "Just a rough morning in the lab."

"Rough morning?" Satoru raised an eyebrow. "This is the first time I've seen him mess up this experiment since university. Usually he's annoyingly perfect."

I shot him a look that promised murder. Or at least severe bodily harm.

She glanced between us, a hint of unease, her fingers tightening on the folder as she took a small step back. "Should I come back later? When there's less...chaos?"

"No, it's fine," I said, reaching for the folder. Our fingers brushed as she handed it over, and I found myself wondering if she was still thinking about that night too. Probably not. She was just here doing her job.

I opened the folder, scanning the documents inside. More forms about professional conduct and boundaries. The irony wasn't lost on me.

"These need both our signatures?" I asked.

She nodded. "Mr. Higurama was very specific about that."

I grabbed a pen and signed where indicated, then passed the folder to Satoru. As he signed, I caught her stifling a yawn.

"Long night?" I asked.

"Just law student things," she replied with a tired smile. "Coffee and case studies until 3 AM."

"Sounds familiar," I said, thinking of my own sleepless night, though for very different reasons. "Though I prefer my all-nighters with better coffee than whatever they serve at that firm."

"Our coffee is not that bad actually—"

Before she could finish, Satoru thrust the folder at her. "Here," he said. "All signed and ready to go back to the fun police." He glanced at his phone, then suddenly stood up. "Speaking of which, I need to go. Got a... thing."

A thing? I raised an eyebrow at him, but he was already halfway to the door. "Don't mess up any more experiments, Suguru," he called over his shoulder, and then he was gone, leaving us alone in the now quiet space.

She stood there, folder clutched to her chest, looking unsure. "Is Dr. Gojo okay? He seems a bit on edge."

"Not more than usual, I guess."

"So that failed experiment over there?" She gestured past me with her finger.

I glanced at my failed experiment, which had now turned an alarming shade of green that definitely wasn't in any textbook I'd ever read. Either I'd just discovered a new chemical compound, or I was about to violate several safety protocols. Possibly both.

"Observant. They teach you that in law school?"

"No, that's just natural talent," she said, some of that bar night ease creeping back into her voice. "Though I have to say, watching things change color isn't usually part of my job description."

"Consider it a bonus lesson in chemistry." Before I could overthink it, I heard myself asking, "Have you had lunch yet?"

She hesitated, shifting the folder in her arms. "I should probably get these back to Mr. Higurama—" Just then, the folder slipped from her grasp, papers scattering across the lab floor. "Oh god," she muttered, immediately dropping to her knees to gather them.

In her haste to collect the papers, she bumped into the lab bench. The rack of test tubes rattled precariously. I lunged forward, managing to catch the rack just as it started to tip, but not before one of the tubes spilled its contents onto the counter.

"I'm so sorry!" She scrambled to her feet, papers clutched messily to her chest, her cheeks now bright red. "I swear I wasn't trying to sabotage your experiments. Though they were already ruined anyway—not that that makes it better! I just meant—"

I watched her frantically trying to collect the papers, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the chaos. "I'll pay," I offered, cutting off her rambling. "Besides, we should probably get going, that failed experiment's probably going to turn purple next and who knows what happens then."

She paused mid-reach for another paper, looking up at me with wide eyes. "Are you threatening me with your failed experiment to get me to have lunch with you?"

"Is it working?"

She glanced at the door where Satoru had disappeared, then back at me, fidgeting with the crumpled papers in her arms. "You know what? Yeah. If you really want to—I mean, after I almost destroyed your lab—"

"Well, you're certainly making my morning more interesting."

She tried to smooth out the crumpled papers, only managing to wrinkle them more. "Oh, I mean—Is that a good thing? Because I can't tell if you're complimenting me or—"

"Come on, Attorney, let's get you away from any breakable objects," I said, already shrugging off my lab coat and heading for the door. "I know a good place and trust me after that, you'll never defend that law firm sludge again."

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(note: r&r reader)

The café was tucked away in a narrow alley, the kind of place you'd walk right past unless you knew what you were looking for. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of freshly ground coffee beans and something sweet baking in the back.

She looked around, taking in the worn leather chairs and mismatched mugs, the walls lined with old medical textbooks and vintage anatomy charts. "So this is where all the doctors hide out?"

"Best kept secret in the hospital district," I said, leading her to a small table by the window. "Though I'm pretty sure I'm violating some sacred code by bringing a lawyer here."

The owner, an elderly man who'd been serving coffee to sleep-deprived medical staff for longer than I'd been alive, brought over two cups without us having to order. The coffee was served in glass cups, the dark liquid nearly black, with a perfect crema on top.

"What is this?" she asked, leaning forward to inspect the cup.

"Just trust me."

She raised an eyebrow. "The last time a doctor told me to 'just trust them,' I ended up with a prescription that made me sleep for sixteen hours straight."

"Satoru's work, I assume?"

"Maybe."

I watched as she lifted the cup, inhaling. Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh."

"Try it," I said, finding myself oddly invested in her reaction.

She took a careful sip, and I couldn't help but smile as her expression changed — surprise, then joy, then something close to awe.

"Holy shit," she whispered, staring at the cup like it held the secrets of the universe.

"Better than the law firm sludge?"

"Okay, fine, you win." She took another sip, closing her eyes. "What is this?"

"Family secret, apparently. The owner won't tell anyone, not even me." I picked up my own cup. "Though I have my theories."

"Care to share?"

"Doctor-patient confidentiality."

She kicked me lightly under the table. "I'm not your patient."

"No," I agreed, the words carrying more weight than I'd intended. "You're not."

She looked away, suddenly very interested in the anatomy chart on the wall, a slight flush creeping up her neck. I caught myself enjoying her reaction more than I probably should.

"You know," I said, breaking the silence, "you still haven't shown me your paintings."

Her eyes snapped back to mine. "What?"

"At the bar, you promised to show me your work someday." I took another sip of coffee. "Unless that was just the alcohol talking."

"I did not promise anything," she protested, but her fingers fidgeted with the handle of her cup. "And I don't really show my work to people."

I leaned back in my chair, studying her. "Not even to doctors who hold your hand during MRI scans?"

"Especially not to doctors who do such unethical things, Dr. Geto." But there was a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"I seem to recall you saying my hands were very good or something."

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she fumbled with her coffee cup, nearly sending it sloshing over the rim. "I did not say that."

"No? Must have been another patient then."

"Can we please pretend I never said anything about your hands?" She shifted in her seat, clearly flustered. "Or anything else that happened that day?"

"Show me your paintings and I might consider selective amnesia."

"Are you actually blackmailing me with my own embarrassing moments?" She leaned forward slightly. "I should sue you for violation of doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Please don't. I have enough lawyers breathing down my neck as it is."

"Oh, I know." Her lips twitched into a smile. "Your case files take up an entire cabinet at the firm."

"Now who's the unethical one?" I couldn't help but smile. "Pretty sure those files are supposed to be confidential."

"See the positive." The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she propped her chin on her hand. Her sleeve slid down slightly. "I can help you. Though my rates are quite steep—one painting viewing equals one legal consultation."

"Brutal negotiation tactics. They're teaching you well at that firm."

She bit her lip, fighting back a grin. The gesture was distracting in a way I didn't want to examine too closely. Then, she wrapped her hands around her cup, leaning forward slightly. "Speaking of teaching, how's that research project going?"

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "Can we not? I'd rather hear about your law stuff."

"Oh god no," she groaned in return, slumping back in her chair. "Let's not talk about that either."

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea. Just endless stacks of papers and Chad being... well, Chad."

"Chad?" I raised an eyebrow.

"This awful intern who thinks he owns the place because his dad's some stupid partner. Like, today he tried to take credit for my research on the Yamamoto case, which, by the way, I spent three nights working on. And then he had the nerve to correct my citations in front of everyone, except he was wrong. He was completely wrong, and everyone knew it, but nobody said anything because, you know, his dad and everything—" 

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening as if just realizing she'd been rambling again. Her hands fluttered nervously around her coffee cup. "Sorry, I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

"No," I said, surprising myself with how much I meant it. "I like hearing you talk."

Her eyes met mine, startled. "You do?"

"Yeah. It's... refreshing, I mean hearing about anything that's not related to someone's blood and lab work." I traced the rim of my cup with my finger. "Is this Chad giving you trouble? Because I could always stop by the firm, maybe have a word with him."

She let out a startled laugh, then immediately looked embarrassed by how loud it was. A few other people glanced our way, making her shrink slightly in her seat.

"What, are you offering to intimidate him for me?"

"I can be quite intimidating when I want to be."

"That's a weird thing to say about oneself."

"You say way more weird things." I glanced at my watch and couldn't help but sigh. "Speaking of intimidating, I've got a class of overconfident med students waiting."

"Oh." She looked up. "Right, of course."

I should leave it at that. Get up, go back to work, stop whatever this is before it gets complicated. I have enough on my plate with the research, with Satoru acting weird, with everything else. The last thing I need is to get involved with—

My hand brushed against the crumpled paper in my coat pocket. That flyer some art student had thrust into my hands this morning at the campus entrance, just like they did to everyone else rushing past. 

"Actually, there's this art exhibition next weekend at the city gallery."

What the hell am I doing?

She blinked at me, her coffee cup frozen halfway to her mouth. "Are you... are you asking me to go to an art exhibition?"

This is stupid. I don't even like art exhibitions. They're crowded and pretentious, and I have better things to do with my weekend. Like work. Or sleep. Or literally anything else. I'm really not quite myself lately.

"I mean, if you want to. I don't understand much about art, but—" I rubbed the back of my neck. "If you show me what to look for, I'm sure I'll like it."

That sounded so lame. Why am I even doing this?

"You mean that?" she asked. "Because you don't have to pretend to be interested in art just because I—"

"I want to," I cut her off. "Besides, maybe you can explain to me why people pay millions for paintings of soup cans."

She laughed, that genuine, unguarded sound from the bar, and I was glad I hadn't thrown the flyer away. "Those are Warhol, and they're actually a commentary on mass production and consumer culture in—" She stopped herself, cheeks flushing. "And I'm doing it again."

"Saturday at 6?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said softly. "Saturday at 6 sounds good."

As I stood to leave, the absurdity of the situation hit me. Here I was, voluntarily signing up for an afternoon of art appreciation. What was wrong with me? 

The closest thing to art in my apartment is that anatomy poster Satoru got me as a joke last Christmas. If he ever found out about this, I'd never hear the end of it. But somehow, I couldn't bring myself to care.

It wasn't until I was back in my office at the university, staring at a stack of research papers, that I realized something strange — I hadn't smoked since morning. My usual lunchtime cigarette break had come and gone without me even noticing. 

My pack sat untouched in my coat pocket. I pulled it out now, turning it over in my hands, and somehow I found myself oddly looking forward to learning about soup cans.

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(note: s&c reader)

The lecture went fine. It always did.

Talk about neurons, synapses, action potentials. Watch sleepy med students pretend to take notes while secretly checking their phones. Answer the same questions I'd answered a hundred times before. Rinse and repeat.

Now, hours later, I was back in the lab. The chaos from this morning had been methodically cleaned away. New solutions mixed, properly this time. Everything in its place, color-coded and labeled with my precise handwriting.

The lab was quiet at this hour. Just the soft hum of equipment and the occasional footsteps in the hallway outside. It was peaceful, in its own way. Or maybe just lonely.

I checked my watch — 5:47 PM. I should probably head home, but then what? Watch some mindless TV show? Read another research paper? Order takeout that would sit in my fridge until it went bad? God, when did my life become this predictable?

The solution in front of me turned the correct shade of blue this time. Finally. I made a note in my lab book, but my mind wandered. About Satoru's strange behavior. About her. About how she looked at Satoru like he hung the moon and stars just for her.

I pushed away from the bench so forcefully my chair squeaked against the floor. My hands were already reaching for my cigarettes before I made it to the window. The night air was cool against my face as I lit up, inhaling deeply.

This was exactly what I didn't need to think about. Not now. Not ever. Focus on the research. On the failed experiments. On anything else but the ache that threatened to consume me whenever I let my mind wander in her direction.

The cigarette burned down too quickly. I lit another one immediately. What kind of person fell for their best friend's girlfriend? What kind of friend was I to even—

No. Stop that train of thought right there.

The smoke curled up into the night sky, hoping it would carry with it all the things I couldn't let myself feel. All the words I couldn't say. All the moments I'd had to watch them together, pretending my heart wasn't being torn to shreds. I'm pathetic.

I exhaled another cloud of smoke into the night air. Maybe that was why I asked about the art exhibition. God knew I could use the distraction. From the research, from Satoru, from her.

And she — there was something in her eyes. That familiar look of someone drowning in circumstances they couldn't control. She needed a break too, probably more than she admitted. Maybe this Chad was partly responsible. Speaking of Chad—

I tapped my cigarette against the windowsill. It wouldn't be hard to figure out his real name. Law firms kept records of their interns, and with his father being a partner. One quick search in the hospital database and I could probably find something interesting in his medical history. Everyone had secrets. Maybe something embarrassing. Something that would make him think twice about—

What the hell am I thinking? I stubbed out my cigarette, leaving a black smear. Great. Now I'm contemplating abusing my position to dig up dirt on some spoiled law intern. Real professional, Suguru. Really living up to that ethical conduct seminar.

Though the thought of his smug face when he tried to take credit for her work—

No. Absolutely not. I'm better than that.

I lit another cigarette, trying to ignore how satisfying the idea was. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Saturday at 6.

At least that was something to look forward to. Something normal. Well, as normal as anything could be when you were a neurosurgeon voluntarily going to an art exhibition with a law student who was also your patient, technically. What did people even wear to art exhibitions?

My pen tapped against the lab book as my phone buzzed.

[2:34 PM] s&c reader: Need any help in the lab today? I can come in if you want.

[2:35 PM] Me: Just boring prep work left. Take the day off.

Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again.

[2:37 PM] s&c reader: You sure? I can help with the prep too.

[2:37 PM] Me: Rest. Doctor's orders.

[2:40 PM] s&c reader: I hate when you say that.

I found myself smiling at my phone, picturing her frustrated face as she typed that. She was probably pouting right now, hunched over her textbooks in the library, annoyed that I'd pulled rank. That stubborn set of her jaw when she tried not to admit defeat. Just like him.

The smile faded as quickly as it had come. I immediately set my phone down and took a deep breath. I should be thinking about the research. About tumor markers and treatment protocols. Not about my student who was probably still in the library despite my orders to rest.

No. Not about her at all.

I glanced at my phone again, fighting the urge to text her back. Focus, I told myself. Work. Don't do anything stupid. God, this day really couldn't get any more fucking frustrating. 

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(note: s&c reader)

The lab was quiet.

I'd been at this for hours, my eyes straining in the bright light of the laminar flow hood, my back aching from hunching over the bench. The familiar chemical smell of ethanol lingered in my nostrils from the endless rounds of sterilizing equipment. 

I straightened up, rolling my shoulders in a futile attempt to ease the knots. A glance at the clock told me it was late, far later than I'd intended to stay. 

The steady hum of the cell incubator behind me had become white noise hours ago, punctuated only by the occasional click of the temperature regulator. I was exhausted, ready to call it a night. But I couldn't leave, not yet.

There was still work to be done, still samples to process. The micropipette tips rattled in their box as I reached for another one, the sound sharp in the empty lab. My stomach rumbled in response. 

I sighed, tugging the elastic from my hair and running my fingers through the dark strands before twisting them back into a loose knot. A few pieces escaped, falling around my face as I looked over to the window, staring out at the darkening sky. 

The sun had already dipped below the horizon, the last streaks of orange fading into deep purple. The campus was quiet, most of the other staff and students long gone for the day.

My stomach growled again, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since lunch as I returned to work. I weighed my options—power through these last samples and face my empty fridge at home, or brave the vending machine downstairs for stale coffee and a questionable sandwich—

Then I heard the door open behind me. I didn't turn, couldn't turn, my hands still buried in the fragile work, the pipette cool in my gloved fingers. But then I heard her voice, and my heart stopped.

"Suguru?"

God, how I wanted to turn to her, to drink in the sight of her. But I couldn't, not yet.

"Hey," I replied, my gaze still fixed on the vials before me. "Didn't expect you here today. Sorry, the fun part's already over." I completed the transfer, then turned to face her, a easy smile on my lips. But the smile died as soon as I saw her face.

I didn't respond immediately, too startled by her appearance. Even in the dim light, it was impossible to miss.

She looked small, fragile in a way I had never seen before. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks pale. She had been crying, that much was clear. She hugged herself tightly, as if she was trying to physically hold the pieces of herself together. 

Seeing her like that, so broken, tore at something deep inside me, something I hated, something fierce and aching.

"What happened?" 

The question was inevitable. But I already knew. There was only one thing, one person, that could make my pretty girl cry.

Her eyes were fixed on the floor, but I could see the tears welling up, threatening to spill over. "Can we work on something?" she finally asked, her voice small. "Please."

I hesitated, torn between the need to comfort her and the knowledge that it wasn't my place. "Do you want to talk about it?" I offered, even though I knew the answer before she even shook her head.

"No," she choked out. "I can't. I need—I need to focus on something else. Anything else. Or I think I'll fall apart."

I understood that feeling all too well. The need to lose yourself in work, to bury yourself in the familiar of the lab until the rest of the world faded away. But I hated that she felt it too, hated that he had driven her to this point. Hated him, with a fury that burned white-hot in my veins.

And the worst part was that I knew there was more, more that he was hiding from her. More lies, more secrets, more ways he was hurting her without her even knowing. And it made me want to scream, to rage, to tear him apart with my bare hands for daring to hurt her like this.

But I couldn't. All I could do was be here for her, in whatever way she needed me. 

"Please, Suguru." Her voice was pleading, desperate. "Can we just work?"

I hesitated for a moment longer, my gaze lingering on her face, taking in the vulnerability etched there. The urge to pull her into my arms, to hold her until the pain faded away, was almost overwhelming. But I knew I couldn't cross that line, not now, not like this.

Finally, I nodded and peeled off my gloves, setting them aside. I reached for her, gently undoing the tight knot of her crossed arms. Her hands were like ice in mine, trembling and fragile. I took one hand in both of mine, wishing I could take away her pain.

"What do you want to work on?" I asked softly, my thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand.

"The nanoparticles," she said, her voice a little steadier. "We still need to narrow down the potential materials and targeting ligands, right?"

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Anything you want."

Anything for you. 

The words echoed in my mind, a bitter reminder of the truth I could never speak aloud. I loved her, had loved her for longer than I cared to admit, but she was with Satoru. And no matter how much it hurt to see her like this, to know that he was the one who had caused her pain, I couldn't let my own feelings get in the way.

So I pushed them down, buried them deep, and focused on the work. On being the friend she needed, the partner she could rely on. Even if it meant ignoring the part of me that screamed for something more. Even if it meant watching her break, again and again, and being powerless to stop it.

We worked in silence for a while, the familiar routine of the lab providing distraction. For her. For me. She focused intently on the task at hand, her brow furrowed as she carefully prepared the samples. Like everything she did, with unwavering precicion.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye, my heart aching at the tension in her shoulders, the tightness around her eyes. 

Time seemed to slip away as we lost ourselves in the work, the outside world fading away. I caught myself stealing glances at her, watching how her hair fell forward when she leaned over the samples. Every little gesture a knife to my heart. 

These moments were the hardest — seeing her so close, yet having to maintain this careful distance. Watching her push herself to exhaustion, knowing I couldn't hold her, couldn't comfort her the way I desperately wanted to.

I averted my gaze and glanced at the clock, just now realizing how late it had gotten.

"Hey," I said softly, breaking the silence. "It's nearly midnight. We should probably call it a day."

She looked up, blinking as if coming out of a trance. "Oh, no I have to finsish this first." She looked over to me and my stern gaze must have silenced her objections.

I hesitated for a moment, then reached out and touched her arm gently, ignoring the way my skin burned at the contact. "Come on. I want to show you something."

She followed reluctantly as I led her to the far corner of the lab, where our old microscope sat — the one we rarely used anymore since getting the newer models. I pulled out a worn slide from the cabinet.

"Remember this?" I asked, setting up the microscope. "From your first week here?"

She leaned in to look, and I had to force myself to step back. "Oh god, my first attempt at cell staining. It's horrible."

"Actually," I said, adjusting the focus, "look at this part here." I pointed to a small cluster of cells. "See how you managed to isolate that specific population? Most students take months to get that kind of precision. You did it on your first try."

She was quiet for a moment, studying the slide. A look I adored so much. And for a moment, the pain and hurt seemed to fade away. 

"You've got instincts that can't be taught," I continued. "That's why you're going to crack this nanoparticle puzzle too."

"You really think so?"

"I know so." I pulled out another slide. "Here, look at your work from last month. See how far you've come?"

She studied it for a moment, then shook her head. "It's still not perfect, the staining could be cleaner, the resolution better. I should be doing better by now."

"You're being too hard on yourself." Always chasing perfection, just like him. "You can't expect to master everything in a few months. Even Satoru took years to—" I caught myself, watching her shoulders tense at his name. Wrong thing to say. "What I mean is, you're already exceeding everyone's expectations. Except maybe your own."

She fell quiet, turning back to the microscope. I watched as she adjusted the focus. Finally, she straightened up from the microscope, turning to face me, and there it was — that spark in her eyes I'd grown to love, the one that made my heart stutter every time.

"We should try adjusting the polymer composition," she said suddenly. "Maybe if we modified the surface charge—"

I smiled, relief flooding through me at seeing that spark return. "Whatever you want to try. I'm right here with you. But tomorrow, okay? After a bit of sleep."

"Thank you," she said softly, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms above her head. A small yawn escaped her. "Sorry for taking up so much of your time. You must have been here for hours."

"No, not at all," I lied, watching as she rolled her shoulders to work out the stiffness. In truth, I'd been at the lab since dawn, but she didn't need to know that.

I swallowed hard, my heart suddenly racing. "You know I'm always here for you. No matter what."

We remained silent for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid crowded in my throat — how much I cared, how seeing her hurt made me want to tear the world apart, how every smile she gave me was torture.

"Come on," I said finally, breaking the spell before I could do something stupid. "Let's get out of here. I think we both need some sleep."

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(note: s&c reader)

Cold autumn air burned in my lungs as I pushed myself harder, feet pounding against the leaf-strewn path. A thick blanket of mist hung low between the trees on my usual morning run, though nothing about this morning felt usual.

I hadn't slept. How could I?

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. The way she looked so small, so broken. The tears she tried to hide. The trembling in her hands as we worked. The memory of those words made me stumble, my running shoes skidding on wet leaves, made my chest tight with something painful.

I picked up my pace, as if I could somehow outrun the guilt of my own thoughts. Because every time I saw her like this, a treacherous part of me whispered, I would never make you cry. I would never give you reason to doubt yourself. I would cherish every brilliant, imperfect moment.

Damn it.

I'm a terrible friend. To both of them.

The park was almost empty at this hour — just a few other early risers and their dogs. A jogger passed, giving me a brief nod. It was my routine, something that usually helped clear my head, but not today. Not when I couldn't stop thinking about how she looked last night, working herself to escape whatever he'd done this time.

What kind of man watches the woman he loves hurt like this and does nothing? Someone so passionate, so full of life, slowly dimming because he can't get his shit together—

Stop it. Stop thinking about her like that.

I stopped abruptly, hands on my knees, breathing hard. A cloud of vapor formed with each exhale, disappearing into the cold morning air. My t-shirt was soaked with sweat despite the chill.

This isn't my business. I've told myself this a hundred times. Their relationship, their problems — none of it concerns me. I'm just her professor. Her research partner. Just his friend. But friends don't let friends destroy the people they claim to love.

And I can't keep pretending I don't see what's happening. Can't keep watching her slowly break apart while he—

Before I knew what I was doing, I was heading back to my car. To hell with my day off. To hell with staying out of it. I've watched this play out for too long, kept my mouth shut for too long. Sorry, Satoru. But we need to talk.

I stormed through the university hallways, my footsteps thundering off the walls, still in my damp training clothes that clung uncomfortably to my skin. The lab door was ahead, and through the window I could see him.

Satoru was sitting in his chair, staring blankly at the whiteboard where incoherent scribbles were scattered, just like yesterday.

In two strides, I crossed the room and grabbed the back of his chair, spinning it around to face me. He looked awful — pale, unshaven, his hair a mess. The sharp scent of coffee couldn't mask something else on his breath. His eyes were bloodshot. I didn't care.

"What the hell did you say to her?" I snapped.

Satoru didn't even seem surprised by my presence. "Wow, that's a pretty broad question, don't you think?"

"Cut the bullshit, Satoru. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He glanced up then, one eyebrow arched, that infuriatingly casual look I'd seen a thousand times before. "Damn, Suguru. Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?"

Something snapped inside me. Before I could think better of it, I was there, hands gripping the arms of his chair, caging him in. Close enough to see the muscle working in his jaw. "I'm gonna ask you this one time and one time only. What happened between you two?"

"Wow, you're really close." He glanced pointedly at the narrow space between us, but I caught the way his fingers tightened on the armrest. "We had a disagreement, that's all," he added, his tone dismissive.

"A disagreement?" The laugh that escaped me was harsh. I pushed away from his chair, turning so I wouldn't have to look at him. My hand scraped roughly across my face, trying my best not to take a hit on him. "She was in tears, Satoru. She could barely get the words out."

He didn't answer. Just straightened up, brushed imaginary dirt from his lab coat. Then he was on his feet, moving past me to the whiteboard as if I wasn't even there. As if we weren't having this conversation.

He picked up a marker, adding to the chaos of scribbles already there — equations that went nowhere, diagrams that made no sense.

"God, would you just—" I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. "You can't just ignore this, Satoru."

His knuckles went white around the marker. For a second, I thought he might actually turn around and hit me.

"How long are you gonna keep doing this to her?" I pressed. "Until she breaks completely?"

"You think I'm not aware of that," he muttered, still facing the board.

"Then fucking stop. If you can't treat her right, just let her go."

That got him. He spun around, eyes hard. "Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?"

I blinked, taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Satoru laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Come on, Suguru. Don't act like you haven't been waiting for this. Waiting for your chance."

"That's not—" The words stuck in my throat. "This isn't about me."

"No?" He took a step closer. "Then what is it about? Why do you care so much?"

"Because she deserves better than this. And you know it."

"Better? You mean like you?" His lips curled into something cruel. "Too bad she's not yours to care about, huh? Even though you think you'd be so much better for her than me." He tilted his head, eyes cold. "Funny, isn't it? She doesn't want you, even knowing how bad I am for her. What does that say about you?"

The words hit like a physical blow, each word a serrated edge twisting in my gut. It took everything in me not to grab him by the throat. "You're being a dick."

"And you're being a lying piece of shit. When were you gonna tell me?" His voice dropped dangerously low. "About how you feel about her?"

"This isn't about me," I repeated through gritted teeth. "This is about what you're doing to her."

"You don't know anything about us."

I stepped closer, close enough to see the shadows under his eyes. "What happens when she finds out the truth, huh? When you're passed out in some hospital bed? That how you want her to learn about it?"

Something flickered in his eyes — pain, maybe guilt — but it was gone in an instant.

"Stay out of it," he said, his voice cold. "Just... stay out of it."

He turned back to the board. I watched him, this man I'd known my whole life, suddenly feeling like a stranger.

"What happened to you?" I asked quietly.

He didn't turn around. "Yeah," he said, his voice heavy. "Guess we'd all like to know, wouldn't we?"

I watched him scribble new, illogical equations on the whiteboard, this stranger wearing my best friend's face, and for a moment I saw echoes of who we used to be.

Late nights in the university library, surrounded by towers of medical textbooks. Satoru falling asleep on his notes, drooling on diagrams of the nervous system while I threw paper balls at his head to wake him up. The way we'd quiz each other until sunrise, high on caffeine and the shared dream of becoming surgeons.

Our residency years, which were nothing but brutal and endless. Sleeping in on-call rooms, stealing each other's coffee, covering for each other when we were dead on our feet. Learning to navigate the maze of hospital politics together. 

The rush of our first successful surgeries, the crushing weight of our first losses.

Even when things got bad, when the pressure started getting to him, when the pills became more than just a way to stay focused during exam season, he never shut me out completely. He'd show up at my door at 3 AM, shaking and sweating, and I'd let him in without a word. We'd sit in silence until the sun came up, until he could breathe again.

I was there through all of it. The interventions, the relapses, the promises to get clean. The nights when he'd call me, voice slurred, talking about how he didn't know how to go on. I'd talk him down, drive across town to pick him up from whatever hole he'd crawled into. 

We were brothers in everything but blood.

But now—

Now he stood there, shoulders rigid, adding meaningless equations to an already chaotic board. The gap between us felt wider than the few feet of lab floor. When did that happen? When did we stop being able to tell each other everything?

Was it when she came into our lives? When he fell in love with her? When I—

No. It was before that. The distance had been growing for a while, so gradually I hardly noticed. Like watching someone drift away on an outgoing tide, too slow to notice until they're already too far to reach.

The marker squeaked against the whiteboard. The sound grated on my nerves, like everything about him did these days. His secrets, his dismissive attitude, the way he kept everyone at arm's length while slowly self-destructing.

"Do you remember," I found myself saying, "that night in our second year of residency? When that kid crashed on my table?"

His hand stilled on the board.

"I was a mess afterward. Convinced I'd missed something, that it was my fault. You came to my place and we sat on the floor until morning, going over every detail of the surgery until I finally believed that I couldn't have saved him."

He didn't turn around, but I saw his shoulders tense.

"What happened to us, Satoru?"

The marker dropped from his hand, clattering against the metal tray. The sound echoed in the quiet lab.

"I don't know" he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'm tired of it all."

We stood there, two people who had once finished each other's sentences, now unable to find the right words. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating, filled with twenty years of shared history that suddenly felt meaningless.

I wanted to grab him, shake him, make him see what he was doing to himself. To her. To us. But I stayed where I was, the distance between us feeling more insuperable by the second. 

This strange, hollow feeling in my chest — was this what growing apart felt like? This gradual realization that the person standing before me, had become someone I didn't recognize?

But the details were still there—the slight crook in his nose from that basketball accident in high school with him, laughing it off even as blood dripped onto his jersey—the white line across his knuckles from that fight behind the gym, my own fists aching as I pulled him away—the small scar above his eyebrow from when we tried to climb that tree in sixth grade, both of us sworn to secrecy, telling our parents we fell off our bikes. 

Every mark told a story I could recite in my sleep, yet somehow, they all added up to someone I didn't know anymore. Like looking at a familiar photograph that had been subtly altered — all the pieces were there, but the picture was wrong.

My best friend, my brother, the person who knew me better than anyone — when did he become such a stranger? When did our comfortable silences turn into this suffocating void? 

The thought sat like lead in my stomach, bitter and cold, as I realized that sometimes knowing every scar on someone's skin doesn't mean you know what's beneath it anymore.

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(note: s&c and r&r reader)

Days blurred together in a haze of surgeries and lectures. 

I went through the motions, my hands steady as ever in the operating room, my voice clear during presentations. To anyone watching, I was the picture of professional composure. But inside? I don't know.

I thought I was doing a decent job of holding it together until one of my students approached me after a practically grueling morning lecture. The young man clutched a stack of papers, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Dr. Geto, about my thesis proposal—"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand, not even looking up from gathering my materials. "Email me to request thesis mentorship. I'll review your proposal and get back to you."

"Oh... you're, ehm, already my thesis advisor. We had an appointment scheduled for today."

I froze, finally looking at the student—really looking at him. Recognition dawned slowly, followed by a wave of shame. Takada Jun, one of my most promising students. We'd met twice a month since the semester began. Damn it.

"You're right," I said. "Sorry, can we reschedule?"

I was better than this. More professional than this. But lately, everything felt like it was slipping through my fingers.

The research lab was closed for the week—a "cooling off period," Yaga had called it. I knew what it really meant. We were all too volatile, too raw from recent events to work together effectively. So I went home early, something I never did.

My apartment felt emptier than usual, the silence pressing in from all sides. I tried reading, but the words swam before my eyes. I attempted to eat, but everything tasted like ash. Even my usual evening cigarette was bitter and harsh in my lungs.

My thoughts kept drifting to Satoru, wondering what he was doing, not if he was using, only what cocktail of pills he'd chosen this time. The math was easy enough—one to stay awake, two to fall asleep, three to numb the edges, repeat as needed. I'd seen it too many times before.

I crushed out my cigarette, watching the ember die. I reached for another only to find an empty pack. Figured. I should go buy more, knew I'd need them if I let myself think about her, about them. But I didn't want to leave the apartment, couldn't put on real clothes.

My only glimpse of light was the art exhibition on Saturday. The thought of it made something in my chest loosen, just slightly. I pulled out my phone, staring at our last exchange of messages before typing out a new one.

[6:45 PM] Me: Should I pick you up for the exhibition?

Her response came quickly.

[6:47 PM] Attorney: Let's meet there. I might be running late from a study group.

[6:47 PM] Me: Sounds good.

I hesitated, then added.

[6:48 PM] Me: Looking forward to it.

[6:49 PM] Attorney: Me too :)

A small smile tugged at my lips. For a brief, ridiculous moment, I wondered if I should bring flowers. The thought made me pause, my hand reaching automatically for my cigarettes before remembering the empty pack. What the hell was I doing?

This was wrong on so many levels.  She was my patient. Well, technically Satoru's patient. And young—god, she was so young. And I was... what? A mess of a man carrying a torch for someone I could never have, trying to fill that void with someone else? I was not sure.

My mind kept drifting back to that night at the bar. The way she felt pressed against me in that dimly lit bathroom, her skin warm under my touch. The soft sounds she made when I slipped my fingers inside her—God, I shouldn't be thinking about this.

This was getting pathetic. Still. Saturday couldn't come fast enough.

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(note: r&r reader)

I was late. Damn it, I was so late.

The emergency surgery had gone longer than expected—a complex arteriovenous malformation that refused to behave. By the time I closed, my hands were cramping and my neck was stiff from hours of hunching over the microscope. But the patient would live, and that's what mattered.

Still, as I rushed through the hospital parking lot, yanking off my scrub cap and shoving it in my pocket, I couldn't help but check my watch again. Two hours late. Shit. I'd texted her updates throughout, but still. Two hours.

The art exhibition was being held in some converted warehouse space downtown. Even from outside, I could see the warm light spilling onto the street through the large windows, hear the soft sound of voices and clinking glasses. I paused at the entrance, trying to catch my breath and compose myself.

That's when I spotted it—a small splash of red on my shirt sleeve, barely visible but unmistakably blood. Perfect. Because showing up late wasn't bad enough, I had to show up looking like I'd just walked off a crime scene.

I quickly shrugged my jacket back on, tugging the sleeves down to cover the stain. It would have to do.

She was standing alone near a large abstract painting, wine glass in hand, studying the canvas. Even in a room full of people, she seemed somehow apart from it all. The sight of her there all by herself felt like fingers wrapping around my heart.

"I am so, so sorry," I said as I approached, placing my hand on her lower back.

She turned, and the smile that lit up her face made my stomach flip. How could she look at me like that when I'd kept her waiting for two hours?

"Hey, you made it!" She didn't sound angry at all. If anything, she seemed genuinely happy to see me. It only made the guilt weigh heavier in my chest.

"I'm really sorry," I repeated, because apparently that's all I could say. "The surgery took longer than expected. There were complications and—"

"Did you save them?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the directness of her question. "Yes."

"Then stop apologizing." She took a sip of her wine, her eyes twinkling. "Besides, fashionably late is totally in right now."

"Two hours isn't fashionably late, it's just rude."

"It's your job," she said simply. "Saving lives tends to take priority over art exhibitions."

I watched her for a second longer, unsure how to react. "Have you been here alone this whole time?"

"Yeah, but it's fine," she said, waving off my concern. "I've actually had time to explore everything properly. Plus, the wine is decent."

Guilt twisted in my stomach. I pictured her wandering these halls alone, checking her phone for my updates, making awkward small talk with strangers. For two hours.

"I really am—"

"If you apologize one more time, I swear I’ll spill this wine on your jacket. And you know me—I don’t need much of an excuse to be clumsy." Before I could respond, her eyes narrowed, focusing on something near my collar. "Is that?"

I followed her gaze to where my jacket had shifted, revealing the telltale red stain. Damn it. I quickly tried to adjust my jacket, but she caught my arm, stopping me.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I'm a mess. I should have gone home to change first, but I didn't want to be any later than I already was."

"Hey," she said, leaning in conspiratorially, "if anyone asks, we'll just tell them it's paint. I mean, we are at an art exhibition. Who's going to look too closely?"

Despite myself, I laughed. "You'd make a terrible witness in court, you know that?"

"Good thing I'm going to be a lawyer then, not a witness." She grinned. "Come on, I want to show you my favorite pieces. And maybe we can find you a painting with enough red in it to stand near. You know, for cover."

I let her lead me through the gallery, and I found myself placing my hand on the small of her back. It was an unconscious gesture, one I immediately second-guessed, but she leaned into the touch slightly. So I let my hand stay where it was.

"You're not still feeling guilty about being late, are you?" she asked suddenly, glancing up at me.

"Maybe a little."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, stop it. Although—" She pretended to think for a moment. "You could make it up to me by buying me another glass of wine."

"Done," I said immediately. "Although maybe I shouldn't be encouraging drinking."

"Oh, now you're being a doctor again?"

"Force of habit."

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine, wrapping around me like summer rain. Dangerous, how easily I could get used to that sound. She led me further through the gallery, linking her arm through mine, chattering away about everything and nothing. 

It was fascinating how much she knew—not just about the art itself, but about the whole scene. She'd point to a painting and launch into stories about the artist's infamous feuds with gallery owners, or how someone's entire series was inspired by a bad breakup with another artist three rooms over. 

She knew every bit of gossip, every drama. Which curator was sleeping with which artist, which pieces were painted during mental breakdowns, which collections were secretly commentary on messy divorces. She made the plain white walls of the gallery come alive with her stories.

"Oh, and that guy over there?" She nodded discretely towards a man in an expensive-looking suit. "He's actually—"

I caught myself staring at her again, watching the way her eyes lit up as she spoke, the subtle changes in her expression as she moved from one story to the next. The way she'd lower her voice when sharing particularly bits of details, leaning closer to me like we were sharing secrets.

It was strange. I never knew that art was so... fun. Her excitement was contagious, and I found myself being pulled into her world without resistance.

"You're not even looking at the painting anymore," she accused, catching me staring at her instead of the canvas she was discussing.

"Sorry," I said, trying to focus on the painting she'd been discussing. "You were saying something about the use of negative space?"

She launched back into her explanation, describing techniques and influences I barely understood. But there was something captivating about her, the way she could find something fascinating in every piece, even the ones she claimed to hate.

I couldn't help myself. I had to ask.

"Why law?"

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "What?"

"You're clearly passionate about art. You know all these techniques, all this history. Why aren't you studying art instead of law?"

Her smile faltered slightly. "We've had this conversation before, remember? Stability, good career, making my parents proud—"

"But that's what your parents want. What do you want?"

She was quiet for a moment, her fingers playing with the stem of her wine glass. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost resigned. "It's not that simple."

"It could be."

She looked up at me then, something flashing in her eyes that might have been anger. "Says the successful neurosurgeon who followed his passion."

"That's different—"

"Is it?" She took a sip of wine and pulled her arm away from mine, the loss of contact unexpectedly cruel. "You chose medicine because you loved it, right? Because you couldn't imagine doing anything else?"

I thought about Satoru, about following his lead into neurosurgery, about all the complicated reasons behind my choices. "It's... not that simple either."

"Exactly." She gave me a knowing look. "Life rarely is."

We stood there in silence for a moment, both lost in thought. Around us, the gallery filled with the white noise of clinking glasses and polite laughter.

"I'm sorry," I began. "I shouldn't have said that."

She shook her head, loose strands of hair catching the light. "No, it's... you're not wrong to ask. It's just complicated." She paused, staring into her wine glass. My parents worked so hard to put me through school. Dad worked double shifts at the factory, Mom cleaned houses on weekends. They saved every penny they could."

"They were so proud when I got into law school," she continued, her voice softer now. "You should have seen their faces. Dad actually cried—I'd never seen him cry before. They threw this little party in our apartment, invited all the neighbors. Mom made this huge spread of food even though I know they couldn't really afford it."

She smiled at the memory, but there was something bittersweet in it. "They see law school as this—this ticket to a better life, you know? This chance for their daughter to have everything they couldn't give themselves. How could I tell them I'd rather spend my days covered in paint?"

"They sound like good parents."

"The best," she agreed. "That's why it's so hard. Every time I think about changing paths, I remember how much they've sacrificed. The hours they worked, the things they went without. Dad's still picking up extra shifts to help with my expenses, even though I tell him not to."

She turned to look at a nearby painting, but I could tell she wasn't really seeing it. "Sometimes I calculate how much they've invested in my education, down to the last yen. It feels like a responsibility, you know." A pause. "So I'm—acting. Playing dress-up in these fancy suits, pretending to care about corporate law and international trade agreements. But it's okay."

Her story settled like lead in my stomach. Here I was, someone who'd never had to watch his parents sacrifice anything, presuming to give advice about following dreams. And suddenly, I felt almost ashamed of my own privilege. 

I grew up never wanting for anything. My parents had well-paying jobs and valued education above all else. Private tutors, college prep courses, academic summer programs—they spared no expense in paving my path to success.

When I decided to go into medicine, my biggest concern had been whether I was doing it for myself or just following Satoru's lead. Not whether I could afford it. Not whether it would drain my family's savings.

I'd never had to work during university. Never had to count pennies for textbooks. Never had to weigh the cost of pursuing my dreams against my family's needs. The academic world had been my playground, every door already half-open. I feel so dump.

Sure, medical school had been demanding. The long hours of study, the grueling residency, the constant pressure to excel—but I'd never had to wonder if I could afford to chase my passion. Never had to choose between my dreams and my family's financial stability.

I lived in a nice apartment, drove a decent car, could afford my vices without a second thought. And here she was, brilliant and passionate, having to bury her dreams because she couldn't bear to waste her parents' years of hard work.

Looking at her now, in this gallery surrounded by art she understood so deeply, I could see the weight of those unrealized dreams in the way she held herself. In how her eyes lingered on each painting a bit too long, like she was trying to capture a piece of what could have been.

"I hope you get to paint someday," I said finally, the words feeling inadequate. "The way you want to. Not just alone in your apartment, but really paint. Show your work. Be the artist you clearly are inside."

She looked up at me, surprise flickering across her face. Then her gaze dropped to her wine glass, her fingers tightening around the stem. A strand of hair fell forward, and she pushed it back with unsure fingers.

"I mean it," I continued, resisting the urge to brush that stubborn strand of hair back myself. "Besides, who says you can't have both? Practice law until you're stable enough to pursue art. Or find a way to combine them—art law is a thing, isn't it?"

"You're awfully supportive, for someone who barely knows me," she said quietly, the words half-muffled by her wine glass.

"Is that such a bad thing?"

She shook her head, blinking rapidly. "No, I just... I'm not used to people understanding. Everyone else just talks about being practical, about growing up and facing reality. Like art is somehow childish."

The last words came out bitter, and without thinking, I reached out to touch her chin, tilting her face up to meet my gaze. Her skin was warm under my fingers, and I could feel her pulse flutter at the contact.

"Art isn't childish," I said firmly. "Neither is wanting to pursue something that you're passionate about. That's actually pretty brave."

Something shifted in her expression then, a softness I hadn't seen before. We stood there for a moment, her eyes locked with mine. That's when I finally realized I was still cupping her chin, my thumb absently brushing against her skin. I quickly dropped my hand.

"I really want to see them." The words slipped out before I could stop them. "Your paintings, I mean." 

It felt too intimate, too presumptuous. Like I was asking to see more than just her art, but something deeper, more personal. But she just smiled, a real smile this time, reaching up to tuck that persistent strand of hair behind her ear.

"Okay," she said. "If you promise not to judge too harshly."

"I already know they're great," I said softly, surprising myself with how much I meant it. "I don't know much about art, but I know they're great because you painted them." Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the caller ID.

I took an instinctive step back from her. "I'm sorry, I need to take this," I said, already bringing the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

There was silence on the other end, just soft breathing that I knew too well. Then, "Suguru?"

Something in her voice made my chest tighten. She sounded—lost. Different from her usual self. Gone was that fierce confidence, that spark that made her so much like Satoru. Instead, she sounded small, fragile.

"Hey," I said softly. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just—" A pause. "I don't even know why I'm calling."

Someone laughed loudly behind me. She must have heard it through the phone because she hesitated. "Sorry, are you out somewheret? I don't want to—"

"No, no," I said quickly, probably too quickly. "It's fine. Really. Talk to me. What's going on?"

I was painfully aware of the her standing nearby, pretending to study a painting while obviously trying not to listen. I caught her eye briefly, gesturing that I needed a moment. She nodded, with an understanding in her eyes that somehow made it worse.

I quickly made my way to the entrance where the coats hung, seeking somewhere quieter. She was quiet for so long I thought she might have hung up. Then, in a small voice that didn't sound like her at all, "Is he okay?"

I didn't need to ask who she meant.

"He's okay," I said, even though I wasn't really convincing either of us. "You know Satoru. He's managing."

A soft laugh, maybe a sob. "That could mean anything with him."

"No, really. He's okay," I lied. "I'm keeping an eye on him."

A pause then, "I'm being stupid, aren't I?"

"No," I said. "You're not being stupid. You're in love." The words hurt to say, but they were true. "That's never stupid."

Another shaky breath. "I shouldn't have called. You're out, and I'm here just—"

"Hey, do you need me?" I cut in. "I can bring you something. Coffee? Food? Those terrible convenience store onigiri you pretend not to like?"

That got a real laugh, albeit a watery one. "No, I'm... I'm actually at Maki's. She dragged me out. Said I needed to stop rotting in my apartment."

"Good. That's... that's good." I ran a hand through my hair, not quite believing her. I knew her too well by now, knew she was probably curled up alone in her apartment, just as I knew she knew I was lying about Satoru being okay. Strange, how we'd both gotten so comfortable with these little deceptions. "But the offer stands. Anytime."

"Thank you, Suguru." Her voice was softer now.

"Yeah," was all I could manage. I closed my eyes, pressing the phone harder against my ear as if I could somehow keep her there longer.  Each second of silence felt like another chance to say something, anything, to make this right. But what could I say? That I was sorry? That I missed her? That I thought about her every damn day?

"I should let you get back," she said. "To wherever you are. Sorry for—"

"Don't apologize. Not to me. Never to me."

I took a deep breath, briefly pulling the phone away from my ear because I couldn't trust my voice not to say what I desperately wanted to. Don't go. Stay on the line. Let me fix this. But I had no right to ask that of her. Not anymore. Maybe never did.

After we hung up, I stood there in the gallery's entrance, frozen. Around me, couples laughed and gathered their coats, heading out into the night. The door kept opening and closing, letting in bursts of cold air inside, reminding me I needed to move, needed to go back.

When I finally made my way back to her, she was studying the same stormy seascape from earlier. She didn't turn around immediately, giving me a moment to compose myself. Maybe it was some sort of kindness on her part.

She didn't ask about the call. Didn't question my sudden disappearance or the tension I knew was in every fiber of my being. Instead, she just glanced at me with a small smile that somehow made everything both better and worse, and said, "I think we've seen everything. Should we head out?"

The relief nearly knocked me sideways. "You sure? There's still the upper floor—"

"Please," she said. "I've been here for hours. I could probably give tours at this point."

I watched her gather her things, struck by how carefully she was moving around the weight of what had just happened. Like she understood something about me that I hadn't expected her to grasp. 

"You're awfully understanding, you know that?"

She looked up at me. "Something we have in common, it seems."

We walked to the exit in silence. I helped her into her coat, her fingers brushing mine as she adjusted her collar. Outside, the night air was sharp with the bite of early autumn. She pulled her coat tighter around herself.

"I can call you a taxi," I offered.

"Actually," she said, "I think I'll walk." She looked up at the sky, where a few stubborn stars managed to shine through Tokyo's light pollution. "It's not far, and it's a nice night."

"Not a chance," I said, already pulling out my phone. "It's late."

"I'm a big girl, you know. I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can," I replied, already dialing the taxi company. "But humor your doctor, will you?"

She rolled her eyes but didn't protest further. While we waited for the taxi, she stood close enough that I could smell her perfume, something light and floral, while I tried to ignore the guilt for leaving the exhibition early, guilt for being late, guilt for enjoying myself despite everything else.

"Thank you," I said suddenly. "For tonight."

"No problem, doc," she said with a warm smile. "Next time, maybe we can finish looking at the art."

"Next time," I echoed, like a promise I wasn't sure I should be making. The taxi pulled up, its yellow light cutting through the darkness. I opened the door for her. 

She turned before getting in, looking back over her shoulder. "Oh, and Suguru?" The use of my first name sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. "Don't overthink everything tonight, okay?"

I watched the taxi disappear into the flow of traffic, its red taillights blending with all the other lights of the city. Only then did I pull out my cigarettes, lighting one with slightly shaking hands. The night felt colder without her presence.

I took a long drag, watching the smoke disappear into the night air, then started walking in the opposite direction, no real destination in mind, just a vague hope that if I walked long enough, the conflicting feelings churning inside me might fade away. 

The city lights blurred around me, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the last trains of the night rumbling through their stations.

Next time, she'd said. 

God help me, but I was already looking forward to it.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note — hello again! i hope you enjoyed this chapter from suguru's pov. i'm sorry for the lack of updates lately, university life and low motivation can be a real challenge. but i'd love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a comment or send in a message. i love to read them <3

& i hope his pov didn’t break your heart too much, especially with his and satoru’s spiraling friendship. also, this chapter ties back to ch 14 of symptoms and causes, for those who are following along.

pls consider subscribing to the story on ao3 or turning on notifications for my blog for furute updates (i've given up on taglists, to be honest).

and as always, thanks for reading, and i wish you all the best, whether you're reading this in the middle of the day or late at night :))

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[thefallennightmare]

Masked: Stalker!Noah Sebastian-Part One

*gif created by me. Please feel free to use this, just give credit. All pictures for the covers are not mine, all found on pinterest. *

Pairings: Stalker!Noah Sebastian x Reader.

Warnings: this will be a very dark romance-inspired three parter, you have been warned. angst, fluff, language, stalking, breaking and entering, watching someone sleep, blood, some medical talk, a scene of someone receiving stitches, murder, torture, and smut which includes p in v, primal play, knife play, mask kink, chasing through words, consensual nonconsensual, oral with female and male receiving, fingering, possible anal play, edging,

Summary: Readers' sex live had been anything but exciting for years. Curiosity peeks when she stumbles upon a website where people sign up to meet strangers for a wild night of sex based on similar kinks. She meets a masked man that opened up her eyes to a world of different sexual kinks and when the night is over, she's ready to move on. The masked man, however, is not. One imprint of her on his skin is enough to make him obsessed. He'll do whatever he can to make sure she is his; whether she agrees or not.

Authors Note: as I mentioned, this is going to be very dark. So if any of the warnings are not for you, please don't read. I understand everyone has limits and that's okay! This will be a total of three parts that will be posted throughout the month of October! Part one is very tame but I promise part two and three will make up for it!

Tags[OPEN]: @blueskylinesx @artificialbreezy @collidewiththesavannah @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chewyylynn @joe9cool @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lma1986 @amelia-acero @poisongirl616 @badomensls @tosoundlessdarkistare @ooh-whatever-nevermind @shayeanna-ashlie @sweetlittlekitsune @theanarchymuse95 @fadingintothegrey @xserenax-13 @hayleylatour @klutzy-kay24 @rumoured-whispers @omensbrainrot @mapsychoticimagination @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @idwt-money @mrsnoahsebastian

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NONE OF THIS IS REAL OR HAPPENED.

READER

I gnawed ruthlessly on my bottom lip as I continued to stare at my laptop screen, wondering if what I was about to do was a good idea. Surely I had to be insane to even think of this. I should have ignored Missy, my coworker and fellow E.R nurse, as she rambled on about this website while we were at work yesterday. She rambled on about how she signed up for a wild night of sex with a random stranger, I blanched at how nonchalant she was about it. When I expressed my concerns about the safety of this website, Missy explained how everyone has to go through a background check and need to upload a copy of an STD test. Whoever created the website wanted everyone to be safe, in more ways than one. 

The topic of this conversation was brought up when I mentioned how it had been nearly six months since I last had sex. But it had been extremely difficult to find a man that could satisfy the needs I had. To which Missy told me about this site. She had met four different men from it and claimed it was some of the best sex she’s had. 

After I muttered a quick fuck it to myself, I was now sitting in the darkness of my living room as I put in my information on this dreaded website to hopefully find a sexual partner that matched my own wants and kinks. I thought I knew what I was into but clearly, after reading this checklist I needed to mark off, I realized there was more to sexual experiences than I thought. 

Mask kink? Definitely. 

Knife play? Sounds dangerous but I’ll try it. 

Primal play? Yes please. 

Wait, am I reading this right? Piss kink? I’m not one to kink shame but no thanks. 

Praise kink? Call me a good girl and I’ll be on my knees faster than you can count to two.

I spent the next few minutes filling out the questionnaire. I had to look up what somnophilia meant and after some deep consideration, I marked it as a yes, but with limits. 

Once my important documents were uploaded, I had to choose a safe word and a code word for when me and my partner would finally meet up. Safe word was mercy and our code word was the coyote's cry. 

“If I get murdered, I’m going to come back and haunt Missy for talking me into this.” I grumbled while sitting back on my couch as I waited for the match results to show up on my laptop. 

Even though the prospect of this was daunting, I desperately needed a night like this. Ever since I graduated highschool and started med school, I worked non stop until I was finally able to land my dream job working in one of the top hospitals in Los Angeles. My bosses could always count on me to get the nasty work done and stay extra hours if need be. I was always loyal and never took off unless I was sick; which was rare. I spent all of my younger years studying and never had the chance to express or find myself. Now at twenty six, I was determined to live my life how I wanted.

A loud ping from my laptop pulled me from my thoughts and I sucked in a breath at the message on screen. 

You’ve got a match!

With shaking fingers, I clicked on the message and was now staring at a profile of a man donned in a black ski mask with odd white symbols. His dark eyes pierced into my soul and I felt hot all over. I was pinned to my couch unable to move as I read over his very limited profile. Due to being anonymous on the site, names were forbidden so his profile name was Masked.Omen while mine was Dark.Angel. At the bottom of his profile showed everything he was into sexually and I couldn’t help but internally smirk when I realized we were into a lot of the same things; give or take a few things I hadn't heard of. 

One thing caught my attention and it was when and where we would be meeting. In two days at a halloween party. The address was listed and after doing some research, I found out it was on a secluded manor grounds, far away from the city I currently lived in. The size of the manor was triple the size of my apartment and I couldn’t help but wonder if he lived there. Along with where we were meeting was the details of our sexual excursion. 

Primal play. Get ready for a hunt.

“Wait,” I muttered while looking at the details even further. “Halloween Party? So there will be other people there?”

My heart rate picked up momentarily because how was I going to be able to spot this man out in a large group of people? How would we have sex with other people there? I did not choose “orgy” as an option. A threeway with another man? Sure. But not multiple partners. 

“What the fuck did I get myself into?” I groaned while snapping my laptop shut. 

I had two days to find a costume when Halloween was so close, meaning I had slim pickings. Tying up my hair into a claw clip, I slipped into my shoes and tossed my bag over my shoulder, the prospect of hooking up with a total stranger bringing a small smile to my lips. 

Was I a sick fuck for it? Possibly. But I didn’t care. I accepted that I was into the darker type of things years ago. I was never ashamed of it and I refused to let others shame me. But the sexual partners I had in the past couldn’t quite meet my needs. Of course, I wanted to go into this night with no high expectations because this masked.omen could very well be like every other guy I slept with. 

Boring and quiet. 

As I took down the steps of my apartment towards my car that was parked in the parking lot, I pulled out my phone to send a quick text to Missy. 

Me: If I get murdered because I took your advice and meet up with this stranger, I’m going to come back and haunt your ass. 

Missy: Oh, who did you match with?

Once I was settled in my car, I replied. 

Me: Masked.Omens. 

It was a few moments before Missy replied. 

Missy: No fucking way! 

Missy: I’ve seen his profile on that site for months but no one ever matched with him! I’m not going to lie, I’m low key jealous because his profile pic is so fucking hot. That mask? Sign me the fuck up. 

Missy: I can’t believe you got matched with him! No one has ever matched him. It’s so hard. Trust me, I’ve tried to rig the site so I can match with him. I have a few other friends who are on that site and they also never match with Masked.Omens. Much to their dismay.

Why did that little bit of information fill me with a sense of pride? 

Because you’re fucked up and you love the attention. 

Ignoring the voice inside of my head, I typed back to Missy. 

Me: Consider me a lucky gal. At least I’ll get murdered by a sought after masked man. 

Missy: I’ll tell everyone you went out with a bang. Literally. 

Rolling my eyes, I dropped my phone into the cup holder and pulled the car out of the parking spot, heading towards the nearest Spirit Halloween. 

READER

The bass of the music vibrated against my chest as I walked up the long driveway towards the dark estate. And not dark because of the moon up in the horizon. Dark from its exterior that was painted black. The only source of lights were spot lights scattered throughout the yard and the orange string lights wrapped around the four posts on the front porch. As I neared the front door, I adjusted the large black wings on my back and pulled at the short skirt, trying yet failing to cover my ass. 

As I suspected, the selection of costumes at Spirit Halloween was small. Either the dark angel costume I was currently wearing or a hot dog. 

The black corset was tight, a size too small, but it made my breasts look fantastic so I tried not to complain too much. The fishnets I wore were littered with gems, which would sparkle when they caught the light just right. Never being a heel type of woman, I decided on wearing my black combat boots. My long hair fell around my shoulders in waves and I was sporting a red smokey eye and blood red lipstick. I couldn’t help but stop and stare at my reflection for a few moments before leaving my apartment earlier which ended up making me late tonight. Masked.Omens and I were supposed to meet around 8 p.m. but it was nearing nine by the time I stepped through the front door of the packed house. Almost immediately my eyes caught sight of a large happy birthday banner on the banister of the staircase

We were able to send messages between the partners we match with on the site so I sent Masked.Omens a quick message as I got into my car earlier. 

Dark.Angel: Hi, sorry if this seems weird that I’m messaging you before we even have a chance to meet but I wanted to let you know I’m running late. Not sure if you care or not. Or if you’ll even be there tonight. For all I know, you probably haven’t been signed in on here for months and I’m coming to meet a ghost. Well, it wouldn’t make sense since you sent the meet up instructions. Unless it was already predetermined. 

Dark.Angel: Sorry I’m rambling. I’ll be there closer to nine. If you even still want to meet up after my insane message. 

Dark.Angel: I’ll be dressed as a dark angel. See you soon. Again, sorry.

I had a tendency to ramble on when I got nervous and I couldn’t help but worry I scared Masked.Omens away because he never replied. 

I saw a variety of different costumes as I pushed myself farther into the house. Couples were making out against the couches or the walls while groups  of people were playing a variety of different drinking games. Nerves ate away at my insides when the realization of exactly what I was here to do began to set in. For the last couple of days, I went back and forth with the reasonable part of my mind on if this was a good idea or not. I needed this; craved a night to let go and forget about the horrors I saw every day at work. Forget about the rough upbringing I had. Both of my parents gave up on me when I decided to go to medical school rather than take over the family restaurant. It wasn’t me, it wasn't what I wanted. They weren’t happy that I was twenty six and still not married and they didn’t have any grandchildren. 

Again, something I didn’t think I wanted. 

The pressure from my parents and med school the last eight years were enough to make anyone snap. So even though I was hesitant about tonight, it didn’t surprise me that I was here about to have sex with a stranger. I atleast knew my other sexual partners. 

The only thing I knew about Masked.Omens was the colors of his eyes; dark as the sky in a raging storm. And we had similar kinks. 

I felt burning gazes on my back as I stepped farther into the house, most gazes on my ass, and I did my best to ignore the inflating ego that was beginning to creep in. I always loved when the attention was on me but I was always collected about it. I never let it affect the way I treated myself or others. When I pushed my way into the kitchen, I made a direct line towards the large island that held all of the drinks. My eyes lingered over each of the bottles with my bottom lip caught between my teeth. I wasn’t much of a drinker, opting to have a glass of red wine every now and then, however with the nerves about tonight, I felt like filling my veins with some liquid courage. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

My gaze snapped up to a voice thick with an accent and felt my breath hitch at the sight of a man in front of me. He stood on the other side of the island, long hair pulled back into a low bun to showcase his black eyes. A nose ring glimmered in the low lights from the kitchen and the facial hair that covered his face was perfectly trimmed. 

“Uh,” I licked my dry lips. “What do you recommend? I usually drink wine so I’m not familiar with hard liquor.”

The man gave me a heart stopping smile before turning towards the fridge and pulled two bottles out. 

“Red or white?” He questioned. 

“Red please,” I smiled, watching as he poured the scarlet liquid into a glass he grabbed from one of the cabinets. 

When he handed the glass towards me, I noticed tattoos on his fingers. 

“Thank you,” I brought it to my lips and internally hummed at the delicious taste. 

“Are you meeting someone?” He asked while extending his hands across the edge of the counter, showcasing his muscles underneath the long sleeves of his sweater. 

I nearly choked on my drink. Did this man know who I was here to meet someone? Was he Masked.Omens? 

“Um, no-well, maybe. Yes?”

He let out a deep rumble of a laugh and it was then I noticed he wasn’t dressed in costume but I did say anything about it. 

“I’m Joakim.”

“Joakim?” I cringed at how bad I pronounced it and feared I offended him until his laughter was now a booming echo over the music. 

“You can call me Jolly,” he said with a bright smile. 

“Now if I mess that up then there’s something wrong with me,” I joked before taking a long sip of my wine. “I’m Y/N.” 

We chatted for a few moments before another man came up beside Jolly, smacking him on his shoulder. His hair was as dark as Jolly’s but it was falling around his shoulders. He had tattoos covering his arms and I noticed he also wasn’t dressed in a costume. 

“Did you guys not get the memo of a costume party?” I teased, setting down the empty glass on the counter. 

“Can’t you tell?” The new man spoke. “We’re dressed up as rockstars.” 

I smirked as Jolly filled my glass again. “Now that’s weak.” 

The man joined mine and Jolly’s conversation and I found out his name was Nicholas. They were best friends and lived here with their two other friends. I told them about how I was a nurse in the emergency department at the local hospital. It was an easy going conversation with both of them and with the second glass of wine finished, I felt myself loosen up. 

“Well, Y/N. I hope you have some fun tonight. I need to steal Jolly for a bit so we can deal with a couple that had a little too much to drink and they’ve locked themselves in the bathroom,” Nichols said. 

Giving them a small wave, I watched them leave the kitchen as I found myself alone; again. With a peek at the clock on the stove, I noticed it was nearing ten p.m, almost two hours after my original meet time with Masked.Omens and I was beginning to question if he really was here tonight. 

I could find someone and ask if they’d seen him here. 

A snort erupted from my throat when I realized how stupid that idea was. I didn’t know what this guy looked like beneath the mask and with the amount of guys I can count in this room alone who were donning a mask, the task of finding Masked.Omens was impossible. 

“I’m starting to think I was right,” I muttered to myself before drowning the rest of my wine. 

I was about to turn on my heels, ready to leave the party and forget about ever signing up on the website when I felt a strong hand at my side, gripping me. I went rigid in the unfamiliar grasp and just before my flight or fight kicked in, a distorted voice sounded in my ear. 

“The coyotes cry in the woods behind the house.”

My skin was set ablaze and my pussy clenched, knowing what those words meant. I tried to look over my shoulder at the man but leather fingers pushed my chin forward, forcing me to look out the patio doors towards the dark woods behind the house. It sounded like he used some kind of modulator to distort the way his voice sounded. 

I gulped as my voice came out weak. “How do I know it’s you?” 

Even though he said the code word, I couldn’t be too trusting especially with what we were about to do. 

“Don’t worry, angel. You’re not meeting a ghost. Fuck, you smell so good,” his lips grazed over my ears and my body shivered at not only his touch but the nickname. It was clear he read my messages to him earlier. Without a doubt, the man looming behind me was Masked.Omens. 

“I’ll give you a five minute headstart and when I find you, I’m going to fuck you so hard that your screams of pleasure are going to be drowned out by my cock snapping in and out of your tight cunt.”

Gone was the warmth at my back, a chill blanketing over me with his declaration of what he was going to do to me tonight. 

No. His promise. 

“And if I say no?” I retorted back while glancing over my shoulder towards him, seeing pink and plump lips through the mouth hole of the mask. 

A breathy chuckle tickled the back of my neck when he shifted his position. “This is what you signed up for. If you want an out, just say the safe word and you’re free to walk out the front door.” 

My silence was my answer. Even if I was scared shitless about what was to come, there was no way I was going to turn back now. I had one foot in the door, might as well drag the other inside. 

“Should we maybe go over some rules?” I asked, my voice giving way on how nervous I was. 

The man behind me let out a low rumble in his chest as his fingers dragged through the feathers of my wings. There was a long beat of silence and if he wasn’t ruffling my wings, I would have thought he left. 

“We already have a safe word. What other rules would you want?” His distorted voice made me shudder. 

I shrugged. “We also already know each other's limits, although you don’t have nearly enough as I do. I guess, once you catch me, that means this is done?” 

The man made a noise that sounded ruthless because of whatever he was using to distort his voice. 

“The game ends when either you say the safe word or when you’re screaming your release.”

Fuck. 

How has this man, this stranger, had such an effect on me? I had no idea what he looked like underneath that mask which should scare me. Instead, it was the complete opposite. I wanted his to ravage me in the dirt, fuck me until I could barley walk once we were done.

“Okay,” I breathed. 

“Five minutes until you’re choking on my cock,” soft teeth nipped at my neck before the warmth was gone from my back. 

Whirling around, I nearly choked on my breath when I saw a tall figure leaning against the far wall of the kitchen, next to Jolly and Nicholas. The man wore a mask, the same mask from his profile picture with the white symbols on the front of it. 

Masked.Omens. 

His body was hidden underneath a black jacket, black turtleneck, and black cargo pants. His left ankle was crossed over his right, showcasing the heavy boots he wore. 

I wonder if he’d let me kiss them or maybe step on my throat if I asked him. 

I shook my head at the very detailed intrusive thoughts. Clearly I’d gone so long without sex that my mind thought it was a societal norm to run my tongue along the leather soles of his boots or have them crush my windpipe. 

“You’re so fucked up,” I conversed with myself but then shrugged, realizing a long time ago how fucked up I truly was. 

Movement caught my attention away from his boots and I realized he’d been shaking something in his hand. 

A phone. With a timer. Counting down. 

3 minutes and 23 seconds. 

Shit. 

“Flap those wings, angel,” his distorted voice called over towards me in a sudden lull of music.

A moan caught in my throat as the realization that this was indeed happening. There was no turning back. I was about to have this man chase me through the woods and fuck me. 

You should run. Out the front door away from this man and never look back. 

Instead, I turned on my heels and ran out the back door towards the dense woods behind the house, my heart rate erratic with the upcoming evening I was about to endure. 

There was a chill in the air tonight, unlike the typical Los Angeles weather. The moon was up high in the sky, bathing the grass in a milky glow as my boots ran through it. My heart was jumping in my throat, making it difficult to breathe as my arms pumped up and down. The wings at my back flapped through the wind, almost like I was trying to take flight up into the air. 

Leaves and twigs snapped underneath my boots as I pushed through branches, running deeper into the woods. I didn’t have a timer running down but I knew that those three minutes surely had to be up. Taking a chance, I came to a halt in the middle of the woods to gather my surroundings. It was dark, only lit up from the moon above so it gave me limited light but I saw a large rock about five feet to my left. 

I lurched towards it but halted when I heard a twig snap in the darkness and immediately I fell to my knees as my heart jumped in my throat. My knees were cut up from the sharp jagged rocks I was kneeling on as I tried to move quietly as footsteps came closer. 

“Where are you?” came the distorted voice in a sing-song voice. 

I cursed myself when I couldn’t see his form through the trees and as I neared the large rock to hide behind, I reared my hand back with a hiss falling from my lips when I grabbed a piece of what looked like forgotten broken glass. Blood dripped down to my thigh as I held up my palm to inspect the large cut. It wasn’t deep but the nurse part of me knew that if I didn’t bandage this wound up soon, it would get infected. 

Pressing it to my chest, I crawled the last bit towards the rock, not caring how much noise I made just as long as I was hidden. Masked.Omens footsteps sounded far away and I let myself relax into the rock to catch my breath and I tried so hard to bite back the tears as my hand burned from the cut. 

“Is that blood I smell?” 

The growing distorted voice sounded way too close, making me jump as I clamped my good hand over my mouth to muffle my scream. My arousal outweighed my fear and I knew that my panties were wet from the chase. Primal play was one of my top fantasies and the fact that I was finally living it made my pussy clench. 

It was odd how quiet he sounded as he trekked through the woods, almost like he was weighless. His presence was like a ghost. I couldn’t see him in the darkness but I could feel his cold stare at the back of my neck. In the darkness, a hauntingly beautiful humming broke through the trees in the skyline. It was an eerie lullaby that pulled me under the waves, swallowing every part of me.

Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum dun da dun.

“You come and go in waves,” Masked.Omens distorted voice sang out, suddenly very, very close by. 

Tilting my head back, I glanced up at the sky and muffled my scream into my hand when I saw a pair of dark eyes staring down at me as he leaned over the top of the rock. 

“Found you,” his teeth sparkled in the low light of the moon and I scrambled to my feet in a scream, running away from him again. 

As I ran, low branches whacked me in my face as I did my best to dodge them but I could feel the wind brush against the small cuts on my cheeks. I expected to hear the wildlife scurrying away from me as I ran through their home but besides my heavy breathing and the crunching of the leaves beneath my feet, everything was silent. 

“Shit!” I shrieked when my ankle got caught at a vine hidden beneath some brush, nearly causing me to stumble over my feet. 

Thankfully I was always quick on my feet and I was able to pick up speed again, not falling flat on my face. Masked.Omens had been too quiet, I didn’t even feel his presence behind me anymore. The clearing of the woods was about six feet ahead of me and I could vaguely make out the lines of cars that were parked along the long driveway. 

If I continue to run in this direction, I would undoubtedly be seen by the people either leaving the party or arriving late. I needed to think of a new plan. Maybe I could quickly turn and run the other way without being-.

My body collided with a tree. No, not a tree but a wall of hard muscle and heat. Arms wrapped around me to keep me from falling and I looked up, being met with dark eyes beneath the mask. 

“Caught you, angel,” Masked.Omens gave me a wicked smile before kicking out my feet, knocking me on my ass. 

Before I could yell in protest for how hard I fell to the ground, he was on top of me in a flash, flicking something out of his pocket and it made me stiff. The glow of the moon glinted on the blade of a knife; a very sharp pocket knife. 

“Oh god,” I almost sobbed while scooting away from him, only for him to drag me back by my ankle.

I’m going to die. He uses the website as a way to find easy victims and here I was, about to die because I was desperate for a dick. 

“Shh,” he hushed me and shook the knife in front of my face. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have the first time I found you.” 

I pursed my lips, realizing he was right, but I still couldn't stop the way my heart lurched into my throat. Masked.Omens brushed his nose along my jawline, breathing me in. 

“I can smell you better when no one is around,” he groaned, pressing his hips into mine, keeping me locked in place on the dirty ground beneath me.

The hard line of his cock pushed against the inside of my thigh and my eyes widened when I felt how big he was. There was no way he’d fit inside of me, it would have to be a stretch. 

A hiss fell from my lips when the tip of the blade dragged down the swell of my breasts before it skimmed over the front of my corset. Masked.Omens eyes bled into the darkness of his mask as he titled his head down at me, his body heavy against mine as he continued to pin me down to the ground. 

I reached out towards his mask, a sudden desperation filling me wanting to see what he looked like beneath it. His large gloved hand shot out and pinned both of my hands above my head and the corner of his lip tilted up in a sly smirk. 

“You’re a desperate little whore, aren’t you?” His dark and distorted voice taunted me. 

“I just want to see your face,” I admitted with a shaky breath. 

Masked.Omens simply shook his head before ripping the sharp blade through my corset, it falling to the ground in a forgotten heap of material. My lips parted to protest but the blade was held to my neck, quickly silencing me. 

“Your tits are perfect,” he groaned while playing with my left tit with the hand that wasn't holding my hands above my head. 

My bottom lip was caught between my teeth as I arched my back off the ground, rocks digging into the calmly skin. Even with the cool air tonight, from the chase it made me break out in a sweat. I wasn’t the fittest and it showed with how I was trying to still catch my breath. With my work schedule, it kept me on my feet and active so the last thing I wanted to do most days when I got off was spend it in the gym.

At the thought of work, I wiggled my hands in his grasp when I remembered the wound on the inside of my palm. Something Masked.Omens noticed with the way my face cringed so he gently brought the injured palm up to his face, inspecting it. 

“What happened?”

I swallowed, feeling the shift in the air from sexual to concern. “Uh-while I was crawling away, I grabbed a piece of broken glass.” 

A slew of curses fell from his lips before he took the hem of his long shirt and ripped a long strip of it. With careful hands, he wrapped around the piece of shirt around the wound a few times before tying it off. My eyes watched with an unfamiliar feeling surging through my heart. It was supposed to be a quick hook up; one fuck and be done. But from the moment I felt his breath against my neck in the kitchen, it was as if the stars aligned and my soul began to vibrate. 

“I don’t think you need stitches but you’ll definitely need to wash it out to clean out any infection.” 

It was odd, hearing the concern in the distorted voice of his. 

I nodded. “I’m a nurse. I’ve got everything I need at home to clean it.” 

“Good,” gone was the concern in his voice and eyes, replaced with lust. “On your knees, angel.” 

Masked.Omens rose to his feet now towering over me and not wanting to disappoint, I rose to my knees then gaze up at him through my lashes. The wings on my back were skewed so he reached out and straightened them. 

“These stay on,” he motioned towards the dark wings. 

I couldn’t speak, the sight of him dressed in all black, seemingly blending into the darkness surrounding us stole all the words from me. There was a bright light from the back patio that broke through the trees, bathing us in a faint glimmer.

“Words. You need to use your words,” his leather clad fingers tapped my cheek. 

“Okay,” I cleared my throat, doing my best to keep my voice loud and strong. 

“Okay what?” His voice was even darker even with the distortion to it. 

My brows furrowed together as the confusion etched deep into my skin but when his hand gripped around my throat giving it a squeeze, I realized what he’d been looking for. 

“Okay sir,” I choked out as the air began leaving my lungs due to his tight grip. 

“Good girl,” he praised before dropping his hold on me to rip out the belt from his pants. 

He moved so quietly that if it wasn’t for the light on us I would have thought he left me here in the woods alone, topeless. My hands wrenched behind my back just underneath the edge of the wings, and I felt the tight bind of leather around my wrists. 

I let out a low hiss when his fingers gripped my scalp, yanking my head back and I noticed he held his phone in front of us, with the camera open. 

“Smile pretty for me, angel,” he ordered while resting his cheek against my own before taking two pictures and slipped his phone back into his pocket. 

Masked.Omens dragged his fingers over my shoulder down to my breasts as he walked back around in front of me. 

“I don’t know if I want to fuck these perfect tits or shove my cock down your throat.” 

For a brief moment, I could have sworn the distortion in his voice was gone and it was his normal voice that spoke into the night. 

All of a sudden, his grip was in my hair, yanking my head back so I could peer up at him. He radiated fear, dominance, and pure darkness. The kind that loomed in the corner of your bedroom while you slept, waiting to drag you down to the depths with him. I should be scared of him and the way he looked at me like he wanted to devour me but it was the opposite. I wanted to dive right into the darkness with him head first. 

A thumb brushed along my lip, smearing the lipstick all over my chin. “Open up for me, angel.” 

Not wanting to disappoint, I parted my lips for him as he worked open the button and zipper of his pants with the other hand, yanking out his erect cock from the waistband of his briefs. I couldn’t help but gawk at how thick it was. Red and angry from how long he had to wait for this. 

My tongue darted out to wet my lips but tasted leather instead. I realized his thumb was still brushing over my mouth. Wetness pooled in my panties as I wrapped my lips around his thumb, sucking it deep into my mouth. The leather of his glove left a weird aftertaste on my tongue but I didn’t let it stop me from gazing up at him as I continued to swirl around his thumb, mimicking what I wanted to do to his cock. 

The noise that rumbled from his chest was not of this earth as he pulled his thumb from my mouth with a loud pop and grasped his cock, giving himself a few pumps. 

“Since your mouth and hands are a bit preoccupied, if you need me to stop blink twice, alright?” 

It was weird how Masked.Omens was able to quickly shift from his dark side to this comforting side. We didn’t know each other but he still managed to care about me.

Get over yourself, Y/N. This is supposed to be a quick fuck. That’s it.

The head of his cock brushing against my lips snapped me from my thoughts and with an eagerness filling me, I let him sink his cock deep down my throat. Both of us let out a shared groan. 

“Your mouth is so fucking warm.” His voice with the modulator made my skin prickle as I did my best to take more of him. “Relax angel, open that throat for me.”

I was pretty skilled with oral so I was able to take a cock far down however his cock was by far the longest and thickest I’d ever taken so it was a bit of a struggle. I guided my tongue along his fast, pressing ever so lightly. Masked.Omens titled his head back in pleasure while his hands ran through the long strands of my hair, burying them deep. My scalp burned but in such a good way that my moan vibrated against him. 

“Shit,” he hissed when my teeth scraped along the head of his cock. 

Before I could give a look of an apology, afraid I hurt him, he forced my head farther onto his dick. 

“Do it again,” the distorted voice demanded. 

I did. I dug my teeth along the soft skin of his cock, up and down as he guided my head. Drool slipped from the corners of my mouth and tears burned in my eyes, undoubtedly making my mascara run down my face. I was sure my red lipstick stained him, especially when he shoved himself so far down his cock, I pressed my lips against the dark hairs that lined his pelvis. 

“I love the way your makeup runs down your face,” he cocked his head to the side, drinking me in. 

My eyes sparkled at his words so I thanked him by taking him even farther down my throat, choking on it. 

“An-angel,” he grunted, nearly stumbling over his words before he ripped me off of him with an echoing pop. 

I gulped in a deep breath just as he tossed me onto the ground on my stomach, sticks digging into my stomach and breasts. The sound of his pocket knife clicking open and then I felt my skirt falling away from me. 

“Did you just cut my skirt?” I asked, growing irritated that he kept cutting my clothes. 

Masked.Omens didn't say anything as he cut off the straps of the angel wings before setting it nicely beside us. His warm breath fanned over my spine as he traced it from the top to bottom with kisses. My hands were still bound with his belt and when I tried to ease away the stiffness, I brushed along his still wet cock from my saliva. Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was still dressed in his entire get up. 

Was he planning on being dressed the entire time? 

“Orange is your color,” he said while fingering the waistband of my thong. 

Right before he cut it away from me, leaving me completely naked in the dirty leaves, only wearing my fishnets and combat boots. In order to reach my pussy, he cut open a large hole into my fishnet stockings. 

“I fucking hate you,” I growled. 

He brushed the head of his cock against my very wet folds. “Are you sure about that?” 

I shook my head feverishly when he began to press inside slowly. It was previously mentioned on the website that both of us were STD free and I had a birth control implant. So it was up to us whether we wanted to use a condom or not. 

My spine stiffened when I felt cool metal replace his cock and when it pushed inside of me, I let out a strangled cry. 

“I want your tight cunt to fuck my knife. Understood?” His teeth grazed over the shell of my ear. 

“Yes sir,” I rasped. 

Again, I should be scared. Terrified even. But the idea of fucking something other than a dildo or a dick excited me. 

My walls clenched around the handle of the knife as he forced it in and out of me, slow at first so he could figure out a pace that worked best but then without warning, his pace picked up until he was roughly fucking me with the handle. I spat out dirt and leaves while letting out a cry of euphoria. The handle was smaller than a dick but with the force of it slamming in and out of me, it was just enough to light the fire low in my gut and made the base of my spine buzz with the familiar feeling. My orgasm was building like a tidal wave, ready to crash into the shore and taking whoever in its path. 

“I’m so close,” I panted as my body writhed underneath the weight of Masked.Omens as he leaned over me, still fucking me with the knife handle. 

“You’re so fucking wet, angel,” he groaned when he leaned back and gazed down at the knife settling in between my legs. 

“Don’t stop. Please,” I begged, whining when he pulled the knife out completely. 

I was then faced with its slick handle in front of me and I nearly gasped when I saw my arousal dripping from it onto the ground. 

“Lick it clean,” his gruff voice ordered me, still distorted by whatever modulator he was using. 

Why didn’t he want me to hear his actual voice? Was it part of his whole get up? 

“What if I cut myself?” I gave way to my worry if I licked it too far and sliced my tongue on the sharp blade. 

Masked.Omens brushed away the strands of hair full of dirt and leaves away from my face before I felt his warm breath against my cheek. 

“I’ll make sure you won’t,” the sincerity in his voice made something flutter low in my gut. 

My eyes flicked over to him as he leaned over my shoulder and gone was the darkness that lay inside of them. A light broke through and it was at that moment I noticed they were a mahogany color. All I could see was his eyes and lips where ginger hair peppered around them. That’s all I needed to know that he was breathtakingly gorgeous. 

Ever so slowly, he pressed the handle of the knife between my lips and I tasted the bittersweet taste of my arousal, humming in pleasure. 

“I bet you taste so fucking good,” Masked.Omens sighed, almost disappointed that he wasn’t able to taste me himself. 

I never said he couldn’t. 

Almost like he read my thoughts, he yanked the knife from my mouth and let it drop. His hands held my hips with a bruising force, halting me up slightly so my pussy was directly in line with those luscious lips. Since my hands were still bound behind my back, my body folded awkwardly but I dared not to complain, afraid that he would change his mind. 

“So pretty and wet, all for me,” he mused with a flick of his tongue over my clit. 

“Oh god,” I moaned, pressing my pussy closer to his mouth. 

I needed more of him. Desperately. 

A swift smack to my ass echoed in the woods causing me to cry out. “No god here, angel. Just you and me.”

All at once, his mouth devoured my pussy, tongue fucking me for a few beats before his teeth grazed over the overly sensitive bud of my clit. I was still throbbing from my almost earlier orgrasm so all it took was his face between my legs for a few seconds before my release rushed out of me with a howl of euphoria. I cried out while writing against his face, making his grip on my hips tighten as he licked and sucked me through my orgasm. 

“I fucking love the way you taste,” a gentle kiss to my over stimulated clit. 

I was breathless, ready to fall into a heap in the ground, but Masked.Omens had other plans. 

“I know we’re both clean and I know you’re on the implant,” a tender kiss to my back made me shiver. “I want to feel all of you. Are you alright with that?” 

All I could do was nod which didn’t seem to please him because he landed another smack to my ass. 

“Try that again,” he snarled. 

Oh, right. 

“Yes sir,” I squeaked out. 

“Good fucking girl,” he crooned before sinking himself deep inside of me. 

It was an adjustment to have him fit in between my walls. His cock was much larger than previous ones I’d taken and he had to pull himself out before sinking in slowly a few times until I was fully open for him. 

“You take my cock so well, angel. Like you were made for me,” he said while snapping his hips against my ass. 

The only noises that lingered in the air of the woods was our shared panting, skin on skin, and me writing in the crunchy leaves. Every time Masked.Omens would piston his cock into me, my body would shift up half an inch. He let out a low growl and wrapped an arm around my midsection. He hoisted us up so he was kneeling and I was speared open on his cock. The new angle made stars dance in the edge of my vision and I rested my head against his shoulder. I felt the rough material of his clothes scratch against the bareness of my back as he lifted me up and down on him. 

“I love the way you fuck,” Masked.Omens sank he teeth into my neck and I cried out. 

Suddenly, a cold bite of metal was pressed against the spot he bit down and I froze in his grasp.

“I need you to be quiet. I can’t have people hearing how pretty you sound,” he grunted when his cock swelled inside of me. 

He was close. 

With the knife pressed into my throat, I rolled my hips against him, trying to bring him closer to the edge because I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. The second he slipped himself inside of me, my second orgasm was building. I was so far gone in the aura of him, desperate for that release, I hadn’t realized the tip of the blade pressed a bit too hard into my skin, drawing the smallest of blood. 

Masked.Omens changed our position again, once more being face down on the ground as his entire body laid against my mine, his pace almost ruthless and erratic. A curse fell from his lips and then something soft brushed against my back. 

“I’m going to fill up that pretty little cunt, angel.” 

I was so far gone in my bliss, about to jump over the edge of desire, that I almost missed he’d taken off his mask and it was his true voice that was spoken into the skin of my shoulder. I lifted my head to try and get a peek at him but Masked.Omens let out a noise of disappointment and shoved my face into the ground, causing me to take in a mouth of dirt. 

But I didn’t care because my second orgasm of the night ripped me in half when the head of his cock hit that spot which made my vision blur. He pumped himself a few more times until his cock twitched just as he let out a low whine, coating the inside of my walls. 

“Best. Birthday. Ever,” his voice was muffled by my hair as he buried his face into it. 

We lay there for a long moment of silence, both of us trying to catch our breath, and when he pulled himself out of me I cringed at how empty I felt. His cum ran down the inside of my thighs and I rolled onto my back before sitting up. As I did, I realized he had slipped the mask back on and just finished tucking his cock back into his briefs. 

Silence fell between us as he glanced down at me once he rose to his feet. His eyes took in the discarded costume to my side and my naked form. Shaking out of his jacket, he handed it to me with a sheepish apology; back to the distortion in his voice. Whatever was causing the change in his voice was something he had in the mask. 

“Thank you,” I smiled while wrapping myself in the large jacket. It smelled like the woods, his cologne, and a hint of sex. 

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his pants, the hint of orange peeking out. “I’m sorry about your clothes.” 

I shook him off while slowly rising to my feet, unsteady so he reached his hands out to help me. 

“It’s alright. It was a cheap costume so I’m not too connected to them,” I added a chuckle to assure him that it was fine. 

He blinked. “You’re make up is really fucked up.” 

Now I let out a thunderous laughter while buttoning up the jacket. I drowned in it, resting above my knees so I was thankful it hid everything. 

“If I’m being honest, I only came here for our fuck meet up. So tell whoever's birthday it is that I give them the biggest wishes and sorry I couldn’t stay.” 

“I’m sure he knows.” Masked.Omens nodded. 

Clearing my throat, I pointed behind him towards where the cars were parked. “I should-uh-go.” 

His gaze burned into me as he refused to step away, letting me walk past him. My skin was set ablaze again and the wetness between my legs was evident again. Only this time it was more because of both mine and his cum. 

“Shit,” he cursed, motioning to my neck. “I nicked you with the knife.” 

My fingers immediately shot up to my neck and when I pulled them away, I saw the barest dot of blood. 

“Oh, that’s nothing. I’m sure I’m not going to bleed out.” 

I tried to joke but he snatched out for my wrist, bringing my fingers to his mouth so he could suck off the blood. I watched in horror and slight arousal as his tongue lapped up the crimson. 

Add blood play to the kink list. 

“Stay safe, angel,” he gave a curt nod after he dropped my hand from his mouth and moved to the side. 

Blinking rapidly, I did my best to smile as I walked away from him with nothing but the remembrance of how he felt inside of me and the fire he brought into my life. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, he single handedly ruined sex for me with any other man. 

NOAH

I sat low in the chair in the corner of my bedroom with my glass filled with a dark amber liquid. I rarely drank anymore but after what I’d seen earlier, I needed something to ease away the anger. How could she do that to me? To us? Was I not enough for her? 

Cleary not since I found her in bed with another. 

My head snapped over towards my desk and the array of monitors that lined the wall, all showing different angles of her apartment. She wasn’t home, starting her twenty four hour shift at the hospital three hours ago. Which meant she would be out of her apartment for at least twenty hours, giving me plenty of time to plant the microphones. The cameras I had couldn’t pick up sound and after what I saw earlier, I needed to be able to hear everything. 

I dragged my eyes over towards the wall behind my headboard where the familiar sight of black angel wings were hung up. Memories of that night replayed on my mind in a loop, the way her pussy felt squeezing my cock, the way her eyes stared up at me filled with tears as I fucked her throat ruthlessley, and the sounds she made only for me. 

My pretty angel. 

Ever since that night two weeks ago, all I could think of was her. It was only supposed to be a night thing yet here I was, staring up at the fake angel wings of her costume and fingering the lacey orange thong I stole from her. None of my roommates knew I had them, so I washed it in my bathroom sink afraid they would find it in the laundry room and question it. 

I didn’t need them prying into my life, not now, because this was all new to me. In no means was I a good person. I’ve lied, cheated,  hurt and killed people that got in the way of rising to the top of my career. I grew OMENS from the ground up, becoming one of the most feared mob gangs in Los Angeles. To everyone on the outside, we were a financial company that helped rich people sort their money into offshore funds which were actually funneling a small percentage into a secret OMENS account. 

Illegal? Highly. Did we ever get caught? No and frankley, we never would. We knew what we were doing and it had been six years of this lifestyle. 

Finishing off my drink, I rose from my chair with a groan and set the empty glass onto my desk and watched the monitors with a careful eye. The perfectionist and neat freak in me scowled at the mess she left behind in her haste to leave for work tonight. Clothes scattered all over her bed and floor, unsure if they were clean or dirty. Plates over flowing in her sink and the feed of the cameras were so crisp, I could see the crumbs on her couch from when she stuffed her face with cookies earlier. 

“She really needed to eat healthier and be a bit tidier,” I grumbled under my breath.  

It was taking everything in me not to clean up after her when I sneak in later because it was too soon for her to realize I was there. The last two weeks were filled with me watching her on the cameras, following her as she ran her errands on her off Sunday’s, and tracking her movements on her phone’s GPS when I can’t be around. All because of one night of sex. 

Joakim and Nicholas dared me to sign up for that dreaded sex website months ago and I never once got a match. I had forgotten about having a profile until I received a notification that I finally got a match. While her profile was sparse on information, I knew that with our shared kinks and turns on, we were perfect for each other. I also knew the second I stepped foot into my kitchen, watching her talk with Joakim that she would hold my heart for the rest of my life. Her eyes shined as she talked with my best friends and her laughter pieced my heart. Fuck, that smile dragged me into her genuine beauty. 

The second my cock slipped inside of her, I wasn’t going to let her go. 

After she left that night, I scurried back into the house and up to my bedroom, ignoring everyone who was there to celebrate me and locked myself in my room. Within the hour, I had figured out who she was, where she lived, and where she worked. 

Y/N. 

Her name sounded so delightful when I moaned it as I spilled myself into her orange thong; hence why I washed it in my bathroom sink instead of the laundry room with my other dirty clothes. 

I snuck into her house two days after our night together to place the hidden cameras. I was so obsessed with her and the urge to see what she was doing every moment of her day was strong. I needed her to be mine, whether she wanted it or not. It might be hard for her to adjust in the beginning but eventually, Y/N will realize this is what she wants. 

Thanks to the cameras, I was able to see that the morning after she had her hand wrapped up and according to her medical records that I hacked into, Y/N had someone at the hospital she worked to stitch her up.

I've also watched her a few times shove that blue dildo so far up that tight cunt, she screamed out in pleasure. The only thing she was wearing was the jacket I gave her that night.

Also thanks to the cameras, I saw her in bed with another man, making my blood boil. How could she lay with another, after everything we went through that night together? Did she not feel the connection we shared? 

No one would ever come between Y/N and I. 

So while she was at work, I found out everything I needed about the guy, Andy. Tattooed, muscular, and a pain in my ass. I’d get rid of him before I head over to her apartment later. I couldn’t risk any more distractions for Y/N. I needed to be the one she thought about. My cock would be the only one that would slip between her folds. My mouth would be the only one that got to taste her arousal. 

There was a soft knock on my door causing me to click out of the feed from Y/N’s apartment and now, a bunch of emails from work and numbers from the stock market were displayed on my screens. 

“Come in,” I gruffed out while sitting on the edge of my desk and crossing my arms over my chest. 

Joakim walked into my room dressed in a black dress shirt and pants, his long hair pulled back into a low bun. I raised a brow at his attire but then suddenly remembered why he was so dressed up. 

“Fuck, we have that meeting with the Robertsons,” I groaned while pinching my eyes shut. 

“They’re meeting us at the office at six,” Joakim said. 

Grumbling under my breath, I knew that this meeting would take longer than necessary because it was the Roberstons. They wanted to know every single detail about where we were sending their money and what offshore accounts would be holding it.

“I have somewhere to be at seven,” I said while walking into my closet to swap out my white shirt that had wrinkled from the long day and slipped on a black turtleneck. My black pants were still fine, no need to change those. 

Joakim’s brows furrowed while he motioned towards the angel wings above my bed. “Does it have anything to do with that?” 

My upper lip curled up in a slight snarl. When my roommates saw the new decor the next morning, they grilled me on why out of everything I could hang above my bed I decided on a pair of black costume angel wings. I played it off pretty well since they knew I was into the darker side of decor. My black walls, the dark mahogany king size bed frame that had four bed posts with hidden hooks, for extracurricular activities. The matching color desk in front of the large floor to ceiling windows. I had a gray lounge couch in front of the black brick fireplace, which was currently roaring to life with heat. On the wall across the foot of my bed was a large mirror, again something I used for my extracurricular activities. The only ounce of bright colors I had in my bedroom was the burgundy bedspread. 

I let my eyes linger for a moment on the mask perched on my desk next to the monitors, the same mask I wore that night. Along with the wings, I had the mask displayed as a trophy. A way to remind me of everything that happened that night. The modulator that distorted my voice was still stitched in, something small enough that it wouldn’t bother me. 

Next to the black mask was a similar one, only in yellow with black symbols; the symbols of our company OMNS. 

Death. 

Peace. 

Mind. 

When I needed to talk to Y/N in my stalking, I would wear the black one. Yet, it never came to that. I never got close enough to talk to her so I opted in wearing the yellow mask for moments of me sneaking into her bedroom to plant the cameras. Whenever I would follow her in the streets, I couldn’t be seen like a mad man by wearing a mask in broad daylight with others around, so I wore my hood far over my dark eyes and made sure I put enough space between me and Y/N. 

“Noah?” 

My attention snapped over towards Joakim, who was waiting for my answer. 

“Is Nicholas and Folio coming with us?” I questioned while slipping into my back peacoat. 

Joakim nodded. “Nicholas is in the car already. Folio is trying to get his guest to leave.” 

I snorted, remembering his guest showing up in the middle of the night last night. All of us lived together and it wasn’t anything new if one of us brought home a guest. They never stayed more than a few hours. None of us wanted a relationship, all busy with our careers to even give the thought of marriage and family the light of day. 

Well, that was until Y/N came along. One literal taste of her and I knew she was mine. I hadn’t slept with anyone since that night, although I cannot say the same about her; which is why she needed to be punished. 

For weeks, I left little calling cards throughout her apartment; black petunia petals. At first, it scared her but the more I left, I could see that fear be replaced with curiosity. What started with her throwing them away in a haste turned into her compiling them into a crystal vase in the middle of her coffee table. 

As I grabbed my phone, I clicked on the screen to check the time and my cock swelled when I drank in the sight of my background; Y/N and I in the woods when her hands were bound behind her back and the blissed out look in her eyes as I stood behind her. I may have got the idea to take a picture like that from a Tik Tok but I wasn’t going to tell anyone that or I wasn’t going to let anyone see my picture either. 

With a sigh, I pocketed my phone and nodded to Joakim. “Let’s get going.”

Thirty hours later, I stood blanketed in darkness, the only light emanating from the salt lamp which rested on the end table. It bathed her face in a faint orange glow and my cock twitched beneath my pants. What was supposed to be a quick meeting with the Roberstons ended up being a six hour ordeal because they got a little too squirmy when we were explaining how we ran things in our business. As soon as they left, we had to retrace our steps with how everything went down in the meeting and had to cover our tracks with the offshore accounts in case they decided to do their own digging. The topic of if they were undercover FEDS posing as a married couple had been brought up by Folio which made us all worried. 

Taking some extra precaution, we all flew to our Texas office to make sure everything was running smoothly there. One of our good friends, Matt, ran things over there and we could always trust him to keep things hidden that needed to be. 

Even though I was busy dealing with all of that, it didn’t stop me from checking in on Y/N when I could. I had yet to find time to hack into the cameras of the hospital she worked at but according to the tracker in her phone, I saw that she was still at work. Until five hours ago when I was notified she had stepped into her living room. It was on the flight back home from Texas when I pulled out my phone to watch the camera feed and watched as she stepped into her bathroom, shutting the door behind her. That was the one room in her apartment where I didn't have a camera set up. I was fucked up but not that fucked up. She needed some privacy after all. There were two hours where I wasn’t able to watch her feed and it was killing me. 

As soon as we arrived back at the manor, I packed a bag and rushed over to Y/N’s apartment, where I was currently hiding in the darkness of her bedroom, watching her sleep. I’d been here only for a few minutes and my cock was already thick in my pants as I studied the way her chest rose and fell with each deep breath she took. 

For weeks my thoughts had been plagued by Y/N and the soft moans that fell from her lips. I was desperate for her, I needed to feel her wrapped around my cock, milking it. 

As my dark eyes dragged down her exposed back when she rolled over, the sheet falling away from her, it was then that I noticed she was naked underneath her red sheets and rage filled me. This was a first for her, sleeping naked. I would know because I'd been watching her sleep for the last few weeks and she always wore an oversized shirt and cotton underwear. 

A soft click sounded over her snores and my eyes snapped over to the ensuite bathroom and now the rage was all-consuming as I watched some random man walk out wearing absolutely nothing as he slipped back into bed; her bed. 

My girl's bed. 

It wasn’t just any random man that slipped into bed with her. It was that tattooed asshole I saw before. 

Andy.

Scowling, I grasped the handle of the blade that was hiding in my pocket and ever so quietly, tip-toed towards Andy's side of the bed, ready to rid yet another obstacle in our path. 

You will be mine, angel. Whether you want it or not.

As I passed the mirror, I realized I was wearing my yellow mask and cursed to myself. I couldn’t risk speaking in my normal voice so I had to make sure to keep my mouth shut. 

Well, did it matter? This Andy fellow wouldn’t survive to point me out in a line up if I were to get caught. I snorted at that thought; I never got caught. 

Twirling the knife between my fingers, I cocked my head to the side and stared down at the man that was so close to falling into a deep slumber. That was until he felt my presence looming over him like a demon ready to possess him. Andy’s eyes snapped open, fear inking into black and before he could make a noise, I covered his mouth and nose with the soaked cloth with chloroform. 

From watching Y/N, I knew that she was a heavy sleeper especially after working her twenty four hour shifts. She could sleep through a tornado siren or even an earthquake that shook her apartment. 

Andy writhed in the sheets, kicking his feet and scratching at the black material of my jacket; all feeble attempts. Soon the light filtered from his eyes and that slumber he was desperate for earlier finally dragged him under. 

Y/N didn’t even move a muscle in the struggle of the man next to her. 

With Andy temporarily disposed of, I dragged him out of bed and let his body fall to the floor in a heap. I cringed with how loud the noise and stood breathless as I watched Y/N making sure she wouldn’t wake. She let out an obnoxious snore and rolled onto her back, exposing those perfect breasts to me. 

I let out a hushed groan when my cock pressed against the zipper of my pants and I palmed it, trying to ease away some of the pain of not being able to sink into her. I wanted to feel her clench around me again but there was an issue that needed to be dealt with. 

She looked so pretty, though. Her mouth parted slightly as she snored, hair a mess over her face, those perky and round tits that made my mouth water. I wanted to plunge my teeth deep into her nipples, marking her as mine. 

Maybe another day. 

Light as a feather, I leaned over the bed toward her awaiting lips and pressed mine over them. There was a hint of a fruity aftertaste from the Celsius drink she had at work and her lips were so soft. I couldn’t pull myself away from her as I deepened the kiss, guiding my tongue over hers. Even in her deep slumber, I swallowed the quiet moan she let out. Her tongue just began to mold against mine when I pulled away. I couldn’t risk her waking up; not now. 

Soon, angel. 

With a deep sigh, I pushed myself away from her to adjust my dick in my pants before glancing down at the heap of a body at my feet. There were two ways I could go about disposing of him; quick and clean or dirty and dark. 

With a sinister smile, I lifted up the body over my shoulder with a hushed groan. Andy may have seemed small but he was heavy like a boulder as I adjusted the sudden weight. My breath almost echoed in my mask as I gave one more longing glance towards Y/N as she lay oblivious to the masked man in her bedroom hauling away her precious little Andy. 

READER

The sound of my nails tapping on my phone screen echoed in the small break room as I sat laxed in one of the chairs. I was on hour twenty out of twenty four of my shift and after the hell that rained down tonight, I was ready to pull my hair out. A kid with a broken leg, an abused husband that swore on his life his wife wasn't the one abusing him but the signs were clear. But with no confirmation from him, we were at a standstill what to do legally. The worst of it tonight was a six car pile up that took up the majority of the night. It was constant trauma after trauma that each bay was filled. We had people waiting for rooms in the hallways. I was almost tempted to treat a patient at the receptionist desk so he didn’t bleed out all over the floor but thankfully the man with a rash was in and out of the room before I lost my medical license. 

Even with all the chaos from tonight, I was extremely grateful that we hadn’t lost anyone. A few close calls but we were able to save everyone. I still needed a moment to myself to let out a few tears, something I often did at work to steady  myself. I was one of the best E.R nurses in this hospital, some things still shook me to my core; more specifically the man with the large piece of glass sticking out of his chest. 

As soon as I stepped into the break room, I fished out my phone from my locker and sent a text to Andy. I hadn’t heard from him in a few days, after he left my apartment with a deep kiss on my lips while I slept. We’ve hooked up a few times in the past and the sex was good, great even. Although, it paled in comparison to the sex I had with Masked.Omens. No one has ever been able to light my body on fire with a simple touch or even a quick look from his dark eyes. My soul craved him in ways I never understood, it was as if we connected on a spiritual level that night. No matter how hard I tried to move on with other sexual partners, I often found myself comparing them to Masked.Omens. 

Blowing out a breath, I sent a text to Andy. 

Me: Hey, are you free tomorrow night? It’s been a hell of a week and I need to blow off some steam. 

Like the other texts I sent him, this one went ignored. He always had his read receipts on but the last four texts from the last couple of days were still at the delivered status. 

Checking my watch, I realized I had about five minutes left in my break so with a shrug of fuck it, I pulled up the same sex webiste I signed up for the night with Masked.Omens. Since I was already signed up, all I had to do was recheck my kink options to make sure if anything changed; it hadn’t. So once everything looked good, I clicked on the green match button and silently prayed to whatever God was out there that I would be matched with Masked.Omens again. 

“Damn,” I muttered as my heart dropped when I noticed that I wasn’t matched with him but with someone else. 

Glorious.Muscles. 

I let out a shuddering groan at not only the name but his profile picture. It was a typical blonde hair, blue eyed, man that radiated ‘small dick’ energy and I knew that this night of sex would be a two pumps and done kind of night. 

For a brief moment, I thought about maybe sending a message to Masked.Omens to see if he wanted to hook up instead. At least I knew he would be able to get me off, something I had a feeling Glorious.Muscles couldn’t achieve. 

Do you want to come across as an obsessive stalker? Masked.Omens will probably think you’re crazy for randomly messaging him for sex. 

Rolling my eyes at my thought, I tossed my phone back into my locker with a bit more force than necessary and dragged my feet back to work. 

Three hours later, I was forcing myself through the door of my apartment after a brutal shift, ready to take a shower and fall into my bed full of blankets. I had the next forty eight hours off which I planned on spending it in bed with junk food and trashy television. Yet, I came to a sudden halt in the middle of my kitchen when I took in a horrifying sight in front of me. 

Black petunia petals were scattered all over the floor and candles lining my kitchen counter were lit. It seemed like they were burning for quite some time because the wax was dripping down onto the marble counter. 

That was going to be a bitch to clean. 

I dropped my bags as fear iced my bones yet sweat gathered at the back of my neck when I noticed a piece of paper taped to the screen of my computer on my desk in the far corner of my apartment.

“What the fuck?” I muttered while slowly walking towards the note, not bothering to step over the petunia petals. 

My favorite flower. 

My fingers shook as I crinkled the paper between them after I ripped it off of the screen. 

My sweet cloud, 

I hope you didn’t forget who you belonged to. No man will ever come between us, not again. I wanted to leave you something to remember me by since it seems like you forget. 

I’ll be seeing you soon. 

O.

Letting out a shuddering breath, I dropped the note to the ground, not caring to watch it flutter into the petals, when I saw something else on the desk; something very familiar. 

Andy’s chain and lock necklace, covered in dry blood. 

Next to that was a print out of the sex website with the match of me and Glorious.Muscles. 

For weeks, I had the feeling someone was following me in the darkness only to see now one there. Not to mention, the black petunias weren’t anything new. This was something I’d grown used to, even started collecting them in the vase on my coffee table. It should scare me that someone was obviously stalking me and leaving me things yet I found it intriguing. I couldn’t stop thinking of all the possibilities on who it could be. 

I thought it was Andy at first, giving into the roleplay ideas I’d brought up one night but with his bloody necklace clenched in my hands, I knew I was so fucking wrong. 

Yanking out my phone from my coat pocket, I quickly dialed Andy’s number and prayed to a god I didn’t believe in that he would answer. My spine stiffened, pure ice filling my veins, when I heard ringing in my apartment; loud and grating on my ears. 

“No,” I sobbed when the ringing stopped in my apartment, only for Andy’s voicemail to pick up. 

“Oh, what’s the matter, angel? Did someone clip your wings?” A familiar distorted voice breathed against the shell of my ear. 

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Love strategy

Hii guyss, I hope you like this story!! Let me know if you want a part 2

You’ve been Carlos’s assistant for four years now, ever since he was at McLaren. From McLaren to Ferrari and now to Williams, you’ve stood by his side, handling every detail of his fast-paced life. And you love it—everything about it. The exhilarating races, the breathtaking cities, the people you've met along the way. Each experience feels like a chapter in a dream. But, for all the excitement, there’s one thing you can’t quite shake. One thing that makes your heart heavy, despite how much you enjoy your work.

You have to be with Carlos 24/7.

It’s not that you dislike him. The problem is you like him too much—more than you should, more than just an assistant would. You’ve had feelings for Carlos for as long as you can remember. It’s the way he smiles when he’s genuinely happy, the way he trusts you with everything, the way he’s kind to everyone around him. And yet, despite all your time together, Carlos has never noticed you in that way. Why would he, when his world is filled with models, glamorous women who turn heads wherever they go? He’s always with someone gorgeous on his arm, someone who seems to belong in his fast-paced, high-profile world.

Meanwhile, you're in the background, silently pining, your heart aching every time he looks at someone else with that spark in his eyes. You’ve tried to move on, but the truth is, you're hopelessly stuck. Carlos is everything you want but can never have—or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself.

Until that one night.

You’re out at a party with Carlos and Lando, who’s always been a good friend. Carlos, of course, is there with his girlfriend—another stunning model. The kind of woman who looks like she walked straight off a runway and into his life. You try to ignore it, focus on just having fun, but it's hard when your heart clenches every time they exchange a look. After a while, Carlos and his girlfriend disappear somewhere, leaving you with Lando. You’re both at the bar, drinking more than usual, and somehow the conversation shifts to relationships.

Lando, already a few drinks in, looks at you with a knowing smile. “So, are we gonna talk about the obvious elephant in the room?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, already dreading where this is going.

He chuckles, leaning closer. “You like Carlos. It’s so obvious.”

Your heart skips a beat, and your face burns. “What? No, I don’t—”

“Oh, come on. I’ve seen the way you look at him. You’re not exactly subtle.” He takes another swig of his drink, grinning mischievously.

You stare at him, speechless. How could he have known? Have you really been that obvious?

Lando smirks, as if reading your thoughts. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

You let out a sigh, suddenly feeling the weight of it all. “It doesn’t matter. He’s always dating these perfect women. He doesn’t see me like that. He never will.”

Lando’s smile fades a little, and he gets this thoughtful look on his face. “You know, I like someone too,” he says, surprising you. “But she doesn’t even notice me. Doesn’t give me the time of day.”

Your curiosity piques, and you turn to him. “Really? Who?”

He just shakes his head, dodging the question. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is… I have an idea. A brilliant idea.”

You narrow your eyes, already sensing trouble. “What kind of idea?”

Lando’s grin returns, brighter than ever. “We should fake date.”

You blink. “What?”

“Think about it. Carlos sees you with me, suddenly you’re not just his assistant anymore—you’re someone who’s being noticed, someone he might want. And the girl I like? She’ll see me with you and maybe… I don’t know, get jealous or realize what she’s missing out on.”

Your mind spins as you try to process what he’s saying. “You want us to fake date… to make them jealous?”

“Exactly!” Lando says, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s a win-win. You get Carlos’s attention, I get mine.”

You hesitate, unsure. “Lando, this sounds crazy. What if it backfires? What if they don’t care?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Trust me, they’ll care. And if not, we’ll have a good time faking it, yeah? You and me, we’ll make them wish they had us.”

You bite your lip, conflicted. The idea sounds ridiculous—like something out of a bad rom-com. But then again… you’ve been stuck in this limbo with Carlos for so long. Maybe Lando’s right. Maybe this is your chance to shake things up.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of overthinking, you sigh. “Okay… I’m in.”

Lando’s face lights up with excitement, and he clinks his glass against yours. “This is going to be epic.”

[arminsumi]

❀ 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝟓 Gojo Satoru / Geto Suguru

Falling in love despite a language barrier.

𝐂𝐡. 𝟓 | 𝐖𝐜. 𝟒𝐤 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summer with you felt fuller and brighter than any other.

Waving sparklers in the humid night air. Sore feet after walking for hours. Mesmerized by the feeling of life whirling around you. Winning a squish mallow from a claw machine and watching Satoru and Suguru rock-paper-scissor fight over who got to keep it. Listening to Satoru and Suguru’s murmured conversations, and feeling giddy when you got the gist of something they said. Feeling your heart throb and ears perk up when they mentioned your name. Laughing embarrassedly into a pillow when you tried to speak Japanese and got everything wrong — Satoru's enamored smile.

It felt like you were in a rush to enjoy everything sometimes, because your return flight date loomed in the back of your mind. Suguru was nervous to show you Japan in a light that you'd never forget, and Satoru was just oblivious to all the sight-seeing and festivals because you were far more captivating.

On the train ride deeper into the city, Satoru sat thigh-against-thigh with you. The both of you were very consciously aware of contact, the press and the warmth. At your left, Suguru leaned close, the fabric of his t-shirt grazing your arm giving you butterflies.

Heads together, all three of you took turns in Satoru's diary; writing your names, scribbling, doodling, until the page was filled from corner to corner.

They talked about Nanami, who was going to meet you for the first time.

Suguru giggled at something Satoru said, so you asked what he was laughing at.

"Satoru's scared that Nanami is going to show off his English to you." he said.

“Oh?” you smiled.

("... and!") Satoru added dramatically, interrupting Suguru, ("He better not flirt with her.”)

Suguru went completely red in the face and laughed.

("Satoru, You're acting very boyfriend-like.")

("... oh, am I?")

("Yes.")

Satoru stopped talking, went redder than Suguru, and sat back in his seat like he was contemplating himself.

"What?" you asked, looking between them.

"Nothing." Suguru feathered, covering his face to hide his smile, "Nothing at all."

*****

Even you were taken aback by Nanami's English, because he spoke more elegantly than you did — so you can just imagine what expression Suguru had when he watched the two of you interact for the first time at the festival.

"Satoru's my senior at work, even if he doesn't act like it." he said. Satoru looked at him suspiciously as he spoke.

"Ohhh, I see." you nodded, "Then, you two met at work or...?"

"No, we went to high school together.” Nanami said.

You nodded again, "Ah."

"... he talks a lot about you." Nanami said, "Talks my ear off at the water cooler about this girl who lives on the other side of the world — with the biggest stars in his eyes. It's nice that you two could finally meet."

You smiled, "Yeah... this summer has been amazing."

"Have you ticked everything off your bucket list yet?" Nanami asked.

"Yes — though, I missed Tanabata." you said. “Maybe next year.”

The two of you kept talking. When you laughed at something Nanami said, Satoru threw a jealous look at him. Then he and Suguru talked under their breaths.

(“Are they flirting?”) Satoru asked suspiciously.

(“They are not.”)

(“It feels like they are.”)

(“… you really are acting like a boyfriend, Satoru…”)

*****

A blue night sky deepened as you three walked across the street crossing, closer to where residents were gathered and some dancing around a raised stage.

"I wish I could experience December here, too." you sighed dreamily.

"Why don't you?" Nanami asked.

"... the flights are too expensive." you replied.

"... what a shame. A romantic like Satoru would be over the moon to spend December with you." Nanami said. "Maybe next year, you two can go as a couple."

You acted shyer after realizing Nanami assumed you and Satoru were dating, and it was incredibly funny because Satoru misinterpreted your shyness to be a response to Nanami's flirting — so he interrupted the conversation right there.

Suguru stifled a laugh. He didn't say anything, just watched you three like it was a sitcom.

("Nanami, you look a bit taller. Did you grow?") Satoru teased, physically comparing heights with him — which he only ever did when they were kids.

"..." Nanami stared at him. ("Why are you like this?")

Suguru was trying so hard to contain his laughter.

While Nanami and Satoru went back and forth with each other, Suguru grabbed the chance to have his own moment with you.

He talked a bit louder over the singing and drumming, right into your ear, as you watched, captivatedly, at people performing bon odori around the stage.

All you remember was feeling like Suguru’s voice was in your chest, truthfully you can't remember what he was explaining to you about the festival.

Then he went quiet and stared at you softly.

A weird, familiar feeling took residency inside his chest, and he thought;

(Oh... It's been a while since I last fell in love.)

But even if you had paid attention to him in that moment, would you have noticed the tenderness in his eyes?

Suguru got startled out of his love-struck daze by Nanami, who was leaving early.

("Satoru finally got on your nerves, huh?")

("Yes… no, not actually. I've just got sore feet.")

Satoru teased playfully, ("You just want to go home and take a bubble bath and listen to jazz like the old man you are.")

("Satoru, you're annoying. That's absolutely what I'm going to do, though.")

Nanami said goodbye for the night.

The sky blackened and the crowd thickened with more people, so Satoru took your hand in his and kept you close.

After an hour, the three of you headed out of the festival and went in search of a quieter place. Suguru observed you and Satoru holding hands. He stared and stared, then forced himself to snap out of it.

Satoru was quietly thinking, then said dramatically;

(“He was totally flirting with her!”)

And to this Suguru burst out laughing so hard, like all the laughter he held back earlier came out. A man with a laugh like that was definitely popular with boys and girls in high school, you’re certain.

(“How do you know?”)

(“… it sounded like it!”)

(“I can’t believe you’re such a jealous guy.”) Suguru shook his head, bearing a big smile, (“You even got jealous at me for flirting with her.”)

Satoru shrugged guiltlessly. 「僕は僕！」

“What is going on?” you asked laughingly.

Suguru could hardly translate or speak as he had a laughing fit on the street.

*****

When you walked out of an alleyway into a busier street and saw the neon glow of lights of a 7-Eleven, and a cyclist going by, and inhaled the night air, and heard all the city noises, and felt all the city feelings, this feeling whirled around you.

"Life feels different here." you commented, looking around you.

"... oh really?" Suguru hummed sarcastically.

You nudged his arm. "Don't be sarcastic. You know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course. That feeling... like a spark...?" he teased, just to see the look in your eyes.

He spoke to Satoru, and Satoru said something and Suguru chuckled and translated for you, " 'You'll miss that feeling when you leave for home.' "

"... I'll miss you two more."

Hearing sentence made his heart fluttery. When Suguru translated it, it just didn't feel the same as hearing it in your voice. It made him wonder just how much he was missing out on by not knowing your language. What feelings were being lost in translation?

*****

The three of you headed out further, getting a bit lost in the city for fun.

The hot night called for ice cream, so Satoru and Suguru rock-paper-scissor fought for who would go to buy some.

"... 最初ぐう... じゃん拳ぽん... あいこでしょ... あいこでしょ... !"

Satoru pulled a funny face after losing that made you and Suguru laugh. He went on his way to the convenience store, navigating through a detour, stopping to pet a cat on his way back, and meanwhile... you and Suguru were left alone together, with that spark clearly fizzing between your chests.

*****

At the park, the two of you lazed in the grass, side by side, while waiting for Satoru to return from the convenience store with ice creams.

Eyes directed up at the sky, propped on his elbows, hair messy after a long evening. Suguru momentarily closed his eyes in bliss at the soft breeze fanning by.

Next to you, Suguru stretched out his long legs and stared deeply at the moon. It was blazing. The longer he stared at it in silence the more this feeling struck him.

He took a sideways glance at you, and you were obliviously enjoying the cool night breeze.

(Does she have a clue about how I feel right now?) Suguru thought softly.

"月が綺麗ですね..." he murmured romantically.

"Hm? What does that mean...?"

He turned his head to look at you, totally smitten.

"... the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Oh. Yeah, it is." you agreed. "I haven't seen a moon so bright in a while."

Suguru chuckled dreamily.

(She's a clueless angel.)

No thoughts passed through either of your heads as you leaned into each other.

His features were too fuzzy to make out in this lighting, but you saw a hint of a tender expression on his face.

He inhaled deeply and got so high on the sweet, humid night air that he leaned into a kiss without thinking his action through — but it's alright, he only grazed his still lips over yours. He only hovered. It was just a sweet, shared breath if anything. Just a ticklishly light touch of lips grazing lips.

No thoughts. Just that spark in the air and heartbeats thumping quickly in your fingertips.

Then immediate realization hit him. He pulled away and apologized like he was shocked at himself.

"I'm so sorry." Suguru stressed, "I didn't mean to — I —I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay, don't apologize." you replied softly, unable to say more.

(What does she mean, "Don't apologize"? What does she mean…?)

Suguru began to ramble, and you watched his lips move as he spoke each syllable. His lips felt tingly, wanting— desperately — for a kiss.

He wanted to kiss you, but he couldn't.

"It's just — I haven't — you know, it's been years since... um, anyways. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore." He became out of breath, talking too fast.

Suguru drew in a breath like he was going to say something more, but then stopped speaking altogether because Satoru returned — with a plastic bag of convenience store ice creams swishing at his side.

“Hey hey.” he greeted the two of you, and sat down on the grass.

Satoru didn't sit between you and Suguru, rather, he sat in front of both of you, stretching his legs out onto the soft grass like a cat.

「顔赤いよ・・・」 Satoru wiggled his brows at Suguru.

You watched Suguru as he patted his hands against his hot cheeks to cool them.

Satoru giggled naughtily.

You looked between them and watched them have a small exchange, never learning what they said to each other in that moment. But you could gather Suguru's embarrassment and Satoru's teasing and mild jealousy.

Suguru grumbled to himself on the way home.

(We could have shared a movie kiss...)

*****

You fell asleep before Satoru — almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. He looked down at you for a moment, his gaze catching onto your parted lips, his ears picking up on your soft breathing.

(I hope you're dreaming of me.) he thought hopefully.

He stared for a bit, daydreaming.

The longer he stared, the more his face reddened and his heartbeat quickened. Eventually he crawled into bed next to you, keeping a distance but wishing so badly that he could cuddle you.

He was thinking about how unfair it was to be himself; to have to contain himself when he was such a romantic and emotional man, and not just that; a man in need of touching, kissing, cuddling. He felt a need for all of that more that night than at any other point in his life.

Satoru timidly inched closer and lifted his face to plant a kiss on your cheek. Just a tiny kiss. His lips hovered over you cheek, then over your lips. But he held back.

He pulled away slowly and smiled shyly to himself.

That satisfied his heart enough, he could calm down and sleep.

But in the other room, Suguru moved around sleeplessly in his bed like a hopeless insomniac.

*****

Curled into his pillow, cheeks warm, fist to lip and knees hugged, Suguru was daydreaming of how that moment could have gone differently if he had just kissed you.

And his daydream played out like a film, one full of scripted kisses, shot from every angle, replayed over and over to satisfy his little heart — the poor thing was beating in panic at his growing feelings.

Yes, he knew he liked you, but not like that. Not until now. Now that feeling was nearly in full throttle.

*****

Suguru's daydream of kissing you went on until it got light outside.

He thought, thought, thought. But a daydream wasn't enough to satisfy his need to kiss you. With a suppressed sigh, he rolled onto his side, hugged his ribs, and blinked his stinging eyes at the room as it lit up a dawn blue.

The room became lighter and lighter.

He leaned up in bed, blinked, then reached for his phone and opened yours and his chat. And he scrolled up into the texts that gave him butterflies. He stared at the blinking cursor, then typed out;

I wanted to kiss you.

Then he stared at your profile picture, and promptly erased what he had typed.

Instead, he wrote it in his notes app, as if it was his most guilty secret.

Then he cuddled back into his fortress of pillows, begged his mind for a dream of you, and fell asleep at 7 AM, sleeping a weak 3 hours before waking up again.

*****

You and Suguru were awake earlier than Satoru, who was still softly sleeping. The roar of early morning traffic reached the 7th floor, and the sunrise teased its appearance through the buildings.

Suguru watered the balcony plants in his flip flops.

And he did it lazily, in his baggy pants, with unbrushed hair. It was quite a sight to see, so you stared. He could feel your eyes on him and his heartbeat quickened.

He watered each plant with a cup of water, complaining that he keeps forgetting to buy a watering can for his ‘lil guys’.

Names were assigned to each plant, written on paper on toothpicks.

“… you named a plant… Dave?” you questioned.

“… what? It’s funny.”

He watered ‘Dave’ and looked closer, nearly nosing into the plant.

"Oh my god... he’s wilting." he genuinely panicked. "I swear I'm doing everything I can to keep him alive, it's like he just wants to die… keep it together, Dave."

You laughed and hovered over the plants with him. Suguru was frowning at his other plants as they looked unhappier than usual.

"Suguru, you're such a plant dad." you said.

His frown lifted, he looked at you and then his sweet smile lines showed up on his cheeks.

"Thanks."

When he made eye contact, and that something sparked in the air between you two. It sparked bigger than it ever had before.

"You look tired..."

I can't believe she notices that. How sweet.

He shrugged in response.

"I was thinking about you..." he trailed off.

You widened your eyes and went silent.

"— your flight." he lied and you knew it.

"... yeah, it's gonna be a long flight home." you swallowed hard, looking so deeply into his eyes that you got dizzy.

"You know what's weird? Right now, in this moment, it feels like you'll never leave." he said softly.

The following silence heightened the tension between you and him. He felt the urge to kiss you again. He felt it bad. His self-restraint was slipping, he couldn't discipline himself.

(A kiss is just a kiss, right?)

When you licked your lips, that’s when Suguru started to lean his face in. As his gaze flitted between your lips and your eyes, his heart panged.

He hesitated, you hesitated, he stuttered, you stuttered. He kissed you like a nervous mouse.

You were shocked even though you knew it was coming.

Even if the kiss lasted just a split second, that was long enough to catch a glimpse of heaven.

Suguru pulled back and looked at you unsurely.

"えーと" his lips twitched. "I — I'm — I — uh." he forgot how to speak completely, so stunned that his mother tongue and English tongue got tangled together.

You stared into his eyes and that's what got him, he went in for another kiss, this time harder – lips smacking together like you just needed each other. And as he exhaled against your face, you could feel all his passion.

His heart fluttered when you kissed him back with almost the same intensity. The heat and softness of someone else's lips was exactly what he needed at this time in his life, just to kiss someone who he really liked.

Gasping into the kiss, Suguru held onto your cheeks like you were his baby. When he ran out of breath, he pulled away and breathed a little heavier.

"I'm so sorry, I — " he said breathlessly.

" — no, it's o—o-okay." you stammered, feeling a bit out of it.

Both of you were digesting the moment when suddenly a bleary-eyed, sleepy Satoru came out onto the balcony, holding Mint against his chest. He was squinting and blinking at the morning sun.

Suguru immediately switched to nonchalance and acting as if nothing just happened. But his shoulders were stiff.

("Mint looks especially evil this morning.") his voice quivered a little.

("... you mean fluffy?") Satoru replied, petting Mint between her fuzzy ears.

("No, evil.") Suguru joked, ("She's a devil in dis—guise.") he choked on his words.

Satoru looked at him strangely and thought;

(Huh, Suguru doesn't usually choke on his words.)

Satoru stared at Suguru, looked at you, then looked back and forth between you and Suguru.

The air was thick.

"What?"

"What...?"

("What happened?") Satoru asked.

Satoru's sixth sense was insane. Like it was some scene in a comedy movie, he forwardly asked;

("Why do I feel like I interrupted something?") he said.

Suguru raised his brows and made a funny guilty face. You looked between them with wide eyes.

"I'm gonna go make some coffee..." you said, and scrambled to your feet like you were desperate to escape this awkward tension.

"... I'm gonna tell him." Suguru said.

"You're bluffing..."

"Nah, I'm an honest guy."

You groaned funnily, "Then I'm gonna go hide behind the coffee pot..."

Satoru looked confused. Once you headed inside, it was just him and Suguru there on the balcony.

The traffic was roaring louder by now. For a while it was the only sound between them, besides your distant clanking in the kitchen.

A long silence dragged out and then Suguru's words abruptly popped into existence.

"(YN)にキスした・・・"

"は?!"

Suguru made a guilty grimace and scratched the back of his head.

("What do you mean you kissed her? When was this?") Satoru's voice got higher.

("Uh, like right now.")

They went back and forth for a while. You heard them and had no idea what was being said.

("Thief.") Satoru said, calming down after a while.

("How am I a thief?") Suguru got defensive.

("You stole her kiss from me!") Satoru pouted childishly.

("... I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself.") Suguru lowered his head, ("Are you mad at me...?") he asked worriedly.

("... No, I'm not mad at you... well, a little bit.") Satoru mumbled, ("I'm more jealous than mad.")

(“So…”) Suguru looked at his best friend wearily. How could he not be furious? (“This is fine with you?”)

(“You can get away with it. If it were Nanami, I’d be throwing hands.”) he joked.

Suguru still felt like he was a puppy that did something wrong, but Satoru just didn’t seem to be taking it as seriously.

("... I've got a plan, okay.") Satoru said suddenly, ignoring Mint's silent begging for cuddles. ("I'm gonna kiss her at the airport, right before she leaves — ")

Suguru laughed, ("Are you procrastinating — ?")

Satoru cut him off and said 「やる よ！！！」 with such intensity and conviction that it made Suguru burst out laughing.

Hearing Suguru's laughter from the kitchen reassured you that everything went over fine.

*****

He stood in front of you.

(できる よ・・・) I can do it...

Satoru swallowed hard. Discretely wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Nibbled his lip. Tried to act natural in the airport, looking to Suguru for inspiration on being nonchalant.

You were testing the clock by waiting until the very last minute to get onboard.

Just like you were procrastinating to board your flight, Satoru was procrastinating to kiss you. The three of you exchanged a look.

"Oh.” Suguru realized, “Go ahead. I’m not looking. I'm a plant." Suguru joked, covering his eyes.

He gave you and Satoru space, he thought it was fair. If he had his moment with you on the balcony, then Satoru deserved to have a moment with you. Now he understood how all-consuming the desire to kiss someone was.

(It has to be now, when else? I don't know when she'll be back for her next visit, I could be waiting a whole year. The universe knows how impatient I am. I've got to have her lips right now.) Satoru thought anxiously.

His body stuttered.

You were thinking to yourself, is this the wrong moment to kiss him? Is there ever a right moment anyways?

"Satoru." you said in a tone of goodbye, and outstretched your arms to him.

He leaned down into your embrace like the awkwardly tall man he was.

You clung to each other's bodies for a while. Such a clingy hug already spoke volumes. But still, Satoru just wanted to go that bit further — to spell his love on your lips.

He wanted you to board that plane knowing what his love tasted like, to sit in your seat with lips freshly tingling.

Yes, he knew nothing in life ever played out like in movies or daydreams, so he was hoping just once it would.

Last-minute doubt filled him and he felt his mood drop.

(… maybe I shouldn’t.)

Just as he pulled out of the hug, you reached up, cupped his cheeks with conviction, and gave him the biggest kiss that he'd ever received in his life right smack there on his lips.

"...?" His knees buckled, and redness grew on his cheeks very quickly.

He blanked so hard, but only for a second or two, because he dreamily tilted his head off to the side and deepened the kiss.

(yeah, 恋している。)

You pulled back. He stammered, stuttered, totally stumbled. He was all over the place now. He couldn't form a thought now.

Even if someone would have told him that he was on planet earth, he wouldn't have believed them, because your kiss definitely sent him to heaven.

"は、はずかしいな・・・embarrassed, I'm embarrassed." He chuckled nervously.

Suguru watched as you two broke down into giggles, then he came over to you two again.

"You know, that was very cute and all," he said, spooking the life out of Satoru who was just totally in his feelings. "But even the last-minute procrastinators have boarded the flight by now."

"Oh my god!" you panicked, "Um, yeah! Okay, okay I'm gonna go... I love you two. I'll come back soon, I promise. I promise."

Hugging goodbye for the last time hurt, and seeing you get teary-eyed made it hard for them not to cry too.

You went through the gates.

Satoru felt like you tore a piece of him and took it with you, and his whole body wanted to chase after you.

You waved and gave heart hands to them as much as you could until you disappeared out of sight.

Boarding the plane felt like a dream. After stowing away your bag in the overhead cabinet, you took your seat and stared blankly, lips feeling tingly and alive with Satoru’s lingering feelings on them.

*****

It was all over too quickly. Satoru licked his lips.

Idling to the window to watch your plane take off, both of them felt like they were on the verge of crying, Satoru a little more than Suguru.

(まだ いかないで。) Satoru frowned.

*****

At home, Satoru walked into his room and when he inhaled your lingering scent, god, he burst into tears so loudly that Mint got startled. Suguru came to comfortingly rub his back as he wept like a dog.

"悟、 泣かないで。"

He didn't cry as hard ever again as he did that day, and he never even told you.

*****

It's hard to imagine that summer could have ever ended, but it faded away like a sweet taste fading on his tongue.

Satoru woke up the morning without you, and it took him a few seconds to realize that — he felt his fingers over the pillow and slowly opened his eyes.

(ああ、もう会いたい。)

Puffy eyes, dry lips, he reached for his phone.

You hadn't replied yet — still on your flight home, high up in the air. Probably staring out the window. Hopefully thinking of him.

He checked your live flight status, and laid on the pillow as he watched it, forearm concealing his frown, and he just stayed like that for half an hour. Watching that tiny plane move on the screen, over so many countries.

He zoomed out, and felt stricken, as if he just realized how far you actually were from him. And you weren't even home yet, home was still hours away.

"Wake up, princess." Suguru knocked on Satoru's door, then barged in after Satoru let out an I’m awake noise. "I could sense your damp mood through the door." He said.

Satoru groaned, "She's still in the sky..."

Suguru dove into Satoru's unmade bed. "Don't frown so much, you'll get ugly frown wrinkles when you're old."

"Mhm."

They were watching your live flight for a few minutes in silence.

"Let’s look through photos."

So, they both laid there, looking through photos, mumbling amongst themselves about little things and missing you like they've never missed someone before.

Then Satoru let out a long breath, rolled onto his back, and hummed happily to himself.

"I kissed her. I actually kissed her.” He said, thinking of you.

"... oh really? That's crazy. Me too." Suguru teased sarcastically.

"Shut up, you."

Suguru just teased further, "The only way you'll get me to shut up is if you book her a flight back to Tokyo and let her use her lips to silence me."

"She'll kiss me before she kisses you next time she visits." Satoru said confidently.

"... bet?"

"Okay, bet!" Satoru flared up, "I bet all my savings, because I know she loves me more."

"Then say goodbye to your savings."

They go back and forth, getting competitive.

"... I'll kiss her harder." Suguru said.

"No, I'll kiss her harder." Satoru said.

"I'll kiss her dumb." Suguru said.

"I'll kiss her dumber!" Satoru said.

Mint fluffed her tail and stared at her noisy, bickering owners. Then she leaped off and went on her way to the washing machine.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@miwanilla / @sukunasdirtylaugh / @coco-cat / @babydiamondblog / @mp3playerblog / @froufrousnowman / @lovesickramblingsofmine / @arminswifee / @instantmusico / @kaechannn / @sabo-has-my-heart / @yoonjinhusbands / @honey-i-will-come-back / @thirtykiwis / @satoruiloveu / @iamthedetective / @melaaaara / @xakilicious / @i-am-the-geek-overlord / @starrylibras / @beanluvsmilo / @kittytoru / @reese-is-right / @rains-mae / @c0pkiller / @baepsays / @hueanhdang / @fuck-imstillhere / @yourimaginaryfriiendd / @alwaysminhyuk / @andromidagalaxie / @vianna99 / @akumakitsune21 / @ducksdoughnuts / @itsnotmelo / @animechick555 / @hypernovaxx / @xkittiecatx / @ba-ks / @sleepy-waffle / @aphoenixnamed-angel / @polarbvnny / @satoryaa / @dedicatemyhearttoyou / @aiikuraa / @uno3 / @softnorth / @polarbvnny / @aphoenixnamed-angel / @boundedbyfate / @p1nkfluffysocks / @notahappyyoongi / @sullybrothersmate / @nissatamz / @bakugosbottombitch / @zhonglis-missing-wallet / @martothejay / @ringsofsaturnnnn / @givemeonereason / @rosariymchapter / @augustsosexy / @spicy-takimura / @li-m-ii / @strychnynegirl / @curvaliberate / @oyuki22 / @spicy-takimura / @li-m-ii / @euaphoria1 / @hexoolio / @notrlynicole / @maya-maya-56 / @elitesanjisimp

♡ 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[dsudis]

late night calls, sandman: "I know it’s stupid, but I needed to hear your voice.” ?

I almost never manage to write to prompts but hey, it's the summer of 2024! Sometimes crazy shit happens! I wrote this! Don't ask me how long ago I got this ask!

Dreamling, feat. retired Dream & comics spoilers for how he got that way.

The Sound of Your Voice

Hob scrolled back through his texts, reading the slightly disjointed conversation with Dream that had just trailed off into nothing, and then the previous day's exchanges. There were no selfies, but Dream sent pictures of the things he saw on his travels and found interesting--sometimes the sort of holiday snaps anyone might send, but often things that brought it firmly to mind that Hob was exchanging texts with the newly-human former Lord of the Dreaming, who was wandering the world in search of Normal Life Experiences.  

He meant to scroll past, but he found himself studying the photos all over again: the instruction card from an airline seat; a scrap of spiderweb lingering in an unidentifiable corner of two beige walls; a spoon wrapped in a paper napkin; a puddle on a cracked pavement. 

Hob zoomed in on that last, trying to discern a reflection in the puddle, trying to guess what Dream was doing with his hair these days by the shape of the shadow.  

It had been a month now that Dream had been off on his travels. He texted fairly often, and always responded when Hob texted him; they had even spoken twice. The first time had been four days after Dream set out, when Hob hadn't heard anything, and gave up on being cool and called.  

Dream had sounded mildly puzzled, but had been content to chat for twenty minutes. He had actually, haltingly, answered questions about what he was up to, what he'd seen, whether he was enjoying his adventure.  

Hob had managed to compress four days of quietly losing his mind worrying about him into saying toward the end, "Don't be a stranger, right? I mean--you're not my--not a stranger anymore, so--we can keep in touch."  

He'd nearly hung up then just to shut himself up, but Dream had said, "Yes, I see. I will."  

He seemed to have understood, even, because since then he hadn't gone more than twenty-four hours without texting Hob some random observation or sending a photo or just Good morning, Hob, usually at a time that was nowhere near morning where Hob was. 

Dream had even called, a week or so ago. It had taken Hob solidly ten minutes, in which Dream had scarcely paused for breath, to realize that despite speaking perfectly clearly, Dream was so utterly legless that he needed more absurd words for it. He was trolleyed. Gazeboed. Positively coat-hangered.  

"Your turn," Dream had said abruptly, still not slurring a bit but audibly loosened, so that Hob was suddenly sure that Dream was lying down, sprawled somewhere, collar undone, shirt perhaps riding up.  

Hob had been so entranced by that image--did Dream have a bit of an alcohol flush on, lighting up his pale cheeks?--that Dream had had to prompt him again to take his turn speaking. He had managed it just fine once he got going, happy as ever to have Dream listening to him.  

Dream had made a few encouraging noises, then gone quiet, until finally Hob heard a tiny, unmistakable snore. 

"OI!" Hob had shouted into the phone, and been rewarded with something that was almost certainly a snort and the clatter of a dropped phone.  

"Hob?" Dream had said, returning. 

"Drink some water, and lie down on your side to sleep," Hob had said firmly. "Your sister might not take you if you choke, but you don't want her to turn up and laugh at you, either."  

Dream had actually said, "Ugh, she would," before he hung up, and Hob had spent the rest of the day laughing to himself as those words echoed in his ears. 

He couldn't hear them now.  

It was something that had happened time and again. Each time he met with Dream, hanging on every one of the sparse words that dropped from his lips, he felt that he would have that voice etched on his memory, ringing in his ears, forever. For days after, he could hear Dream's words again, playing them over in his memory.  

But every time, before too long, he couldn't remember quite what those words sounded like. He might remember what the words were, but he couldn't hear them anymore. A few months on, he would forget the little quirks of Dream's expression. 

At some point, every time, he forgot Dream's face. 

He could remember what Dream looked like, generally: pale and black-haired, slim and tallish, dressed in black, obviously rich. But he couldn't bring Dream's actual face to mind, had to just wait out the century to see him again, to know him again. There you are. 

He'd already started forgetting after their belated meeting, when Dream turned up again, though Hob still hadn't known his name at that point. There had been a dream, first, and then his old stranger had just--turned up in a pub when Hob was out drinking, having his own miserable evening. He'd pulled out of it enough to realize that Dream was even worse off than he was, that Dream was on the precipice of something unimaginable, but nothing he said had changed any of that. 

And then he'd found himself attending Dream's bloody wake, which was how he'd learned who his oldest friend even was.  

He'd had about a week to try to resign himself to never having another reunion, never refreshing those fading memories ever again, no longer having even one person he could look forward to meeting again on the long road of his eternal life.  

And then Dream had turned up on his bloody doorstep: freshly human and tentatively immortal, as this new incarnation was technically his afterlife. 

Dream had been nearly as bewildered by it as Hob was, and had stayed with Hob for a fortnight. Learning to function in a human body had been undignified and frustrating, but Hob had done his best to smooth the way. He had accompanied Dream through his first experiences of human-sized emotions, which seemed to be something he had no idea how to handle, where had possessed at least a general theoretical understanding of the physically messy bits.  

After two weeks, though, he had seemed to be settling in, and Hob had let himself begin to think of what life might look like with his friend in it--and then Dream had announced that he needed more Life Experience and he was going off to find it. 

Hob knew he'd said it like that, the capital letters audible even though his new voice had lost some slight uncanny edge he'd always had before. He just couldn't hear it anymore, and he couldn't hear Dream's drunken rambling either. He scrolled down through the texts again, trying to hear how Dream would say the words, but he only caught an echo, the velvety depth of Dream's voice.  

It was late; he ought to stop fretting about this and sleep. There would be more texts from Dream tomorrow; sooner or later there would be another call, or Dream would turn up again. Everything was all right now; Dream was safe, and probably reasonably happy, out on his self-appointed quest to get the hang of being human. 

Hob just wanted to hear that from him. He just wanted to hear _anything_, so long as it was Dream. He hesitated another moment, but he had never been good at resisting temptation. He just had time to try to guess where Dream was--and therefore what time it was--before he hit the call button. 

It rang only twice before Dream picked up, sounding not just puzzled but properly disorientated, fuzzy with sleep. "'Lo? Hob? What's..." 

All the circling misery of the last few minutes lifted instantly. _There you are. That's you._ "Hi, love," Hob returned, falling back into his own bed. "I know it’s stupid, but I needed to hear your voice." 

There was a silence, but before Hob could take it back, or say something to give himself away even more, Dream said, "You could... do you think you'd like to--" 

"Yes," Hob said, sitting up again, feeling abruptly wide awake, ready for anything.  

"--Hear it more?" Dream finished.  

"Yes," Hob repeated, standing. "Yes, I--where--" 

"About five minutes," Dream said, which didn't make sense until he added, "it's a good thing you called, I didn't mean to doze off in the taxi." 

"Jet lag," Hob said, mouth running on autopilot as he looked frantically around his bedroom. It was in a bit of a state; he hadn't gotten properly settled into his own newest incarnation before Dream turned up, and in the last few days he'd been... more down than he'd realized until right now, when he wasn't anymore, at half two in the morning. "I keep telling you, you have to respect the circadian rhythm now you have one." 

"I have great respect for it," Dream said, sounding a little amused now. "Unfortunately--" he yawned, "international flight schedules do not, despite being entirely staffed by people who also need to sleep." 

"One of those mysteries we may never solve," Hob agreed. "Uh, your room's a bit--" 

"I will happily sleep on your kitchen floor at this point," Dream said, yawning again before he quite got all the words out. "Perhaps the stairs." 

"Well, we can do better than that, at least," Hob said, pulling on a pair of joggers and giving the covers a few quick tugs so the bed looked plausibly disheveled rather than like a place of insomniac torment. He dashed down the stairs to the front door, and threw back the locks, listening to Dream's quiet on the other side of the line. "Dream?" 

"Still here," Dream assured him, sounding a bit more alert now. "Just a few more blocks, I think." 

Hob leaned out the door, peering down his street, listening as if he would somehow know which car on another street was the one with Dream inside. "Are you..." Hob didn't even know how to finish the question, other than _here yet?_ which was a stupid one.  

"Yes," Dream said anyway, just as a car turned down Hob's street--a proper cab, not an Uber. Dream could be choosy about things like that. "I see you. I--I am very glad to see you." 

Hob raised and arm and waved, to be sure the cabbie would see him too, and cleared his throat before he could say, "Same to you, my friend." 

"Yes," Dream said dryly, even as the cab was pulling up, putting the rear door exactly level with the stairs to Hob's door. "I can see that." 

Hob glanced down at himself and realized that he was both shirtless and barefoot, and showing a wide strip of his pants on one side where he hadn't managed to pull the joggers all the way up. Hob sputtered, already starting to laugh at himself and unable to find a riposte; he looked up again and his breath stopped.  

Time stopped. 

Dream was on the pavement below him, straightening up out of the cab. He was looking straight at Hob, with just as much bright gladness in his face as the first time they'd seen each other again after their longest parting. 

Hob dropped his phone and darted down the stairs, colliding with Dream halfway and flinging his arms around him. He clung tight long after they were both steadied from the impact, pressing his face into Dream's messy hair. "Say something," Hob murmured, breathing in the not-too-recently-washed smell of him, soaking in the solidity of the angular body pressed up against his. 

"Your front door's closed behind you," Dream murmured. "And I think you've cracked the screen on your phone." 

"Bugger," Hob muttered, squeezing tighter; Dream's grip tightened in answer until Hob could feel his ribs creaking, and still neither of them showed any sign of letting go. "The door, I mean, that's a bother. The phone screen's been cracked for weeks." 

Dream gave a little _tsk_, pressed a kiss to the spot just before Hob's ear, and then let go all at once, sliding past him to retrieve his phone. Hob pressed his fingers to the spot where Dream's lips had pressed, and didn't manage to speak, or even think anything coherent, before Dream was straightening up again, phone in hand.  

"They can be replaced," Dream pointed out. "And you gave me a key before I left, so even the door is not such a great bother as that." 

"Yeah, I wasn't that worried," Hob said, fingers still pressed to the spot in front of his ear, staring at Dream, who was going just a bit pink. "Dream, you--" 

"You gave me a key," Dream repeated, making no move to get it out and unlock the door, still holding Hob's battered phone. "Before I left, you said. I could always. Come home." 

"Yeah," Hob said, and finally managed to drop his hand from his own face, reaching out with the same fingers to touch the brightening pink of Dream's cheek. "You always can, love. I always want to hear you, and I always want to see you." 

"I thought I--I thought perhaps--it might have been only..." Dream shook his head, giving up on putting it into words, but Hob didn't need him to spell it out; he'd worried himself that perhaps it was a problem that Dream only had him, only knew him. He'd known it was a good idea for Dream to go out into the world, even while he'd hated it. "But there is no one like you." 

"And no place like home?" Hob added lightly, because he couldn't not, even when he could see Dream's perfectly earnest expression, the steady dark intensity of his gaze.  

Dream snorted softly and put his hand over Hob's, pressing it to his cheek while he leaned in, closing the distance between them again.  

Hob started to tilt his head, ready to guide Dream into possibly his first kiss in a world where noses would not politely reshape themselves to stay out of the way, but Dream first pressed his forehead to Hob's, breathing deeply and saying nothing. Hob settled his other hand on Dream's cheek as well, keeping him close, breathing in for himself the reality of Dream here with him again, safe and sound and wanting to be here, of all the places in the world he might be exploring.  

"We should go inside," Dream murmured, and Hob just shivered at the secret sound of his voice before he made sense of the words.  

He tipped his head back to meet Dream's eyes, and found Dream smiling wryly. "I fear we may be carried away here on your front steps, otherwise." 

Hob dropped his hands to Dream's shoulders, where it was safe to grip as hard as he needed to while he let those words sink in, his whole body flashing hot at the possibilities. "Yeah. That's. Probably wise, yeah." 

Dream nodded, still smiling, and held up a familiar key. "Shall we?" 

Hob forced himself to drop his hands and turn to go back up the stairs. Dream followed him, close enough that Hob could almost feel him; when Hob turned the knob and realized that the door had in fact locked behind him, he had no time at all to be frustrated by it before Dream pressed up against his back, bringing his hands--and, crucially, his key--to join Hob's.  

"You gave me a key," Dream said, so close to Hob's ear that his lips brushed it, so deep and warm that Hob could drown in it. "You knew I would want to come home to you. And now here I am--" the key slid home, and Hob bit his lip to hold back a noise at that altogether unsubtle promise of things to come. "Coming home. To you. With you." 

Hob pushed the door open, but before stepping inside he asked, knowing it was ridiculous to hesitate, with Dream plastered up against him and hesitating anyway, "Will you tell me again tomorrow?" 

"I will tell you again every day," Dream said without hesitation. "Every time I come home to you, wherever that may be, it will always be you." 

"Right then," Hob said, and whirled in Dream's arms to kiss him as he stumbled back inside. Dream followed him, and didn't stop kissing him except to laugh when they staggered into a heap at the top of the inside stair. Hob tugged him back down into another kiss, and let Dream's voice echo in his ears a while longer.  

[solxamber]

Hello!! I absolutely adore your writing and have been reading a lot of it recently 🫶

I have a request, but may follow a more sensitive topic? I was wondering if you could write a fic with Idia, Cater, Rollo (twisted wonderland), or Welt, Ratio, Boothill (honkai star rail) comforting a recovering reader struggling with SH.

I can understand the denial of this request, as it can touch on a sensitive topic, but it would mean a lot to me if you considered it. I've been struggling with this for a while and it would be nice to have some comfort with recovery.

Again, I adore your work and I hope you can consider my request.

Idia, Rollo, Cater and Welt, Ratio, Boothill with a Recovering Reader

Warnings: Mentions of SH

i hope you're doing well now anon. i'm so so proud of you and i'm cheering you on in your recovery. if you wanted something different, please let me know!

it's a sensitive topic that i don't have first hand experience in, so i hope that nothing comes off as insensitive.

Idia Shroud

It had been one of those days. The weight of everything felt suffocating, and you couldn’t quite shake the heaviness that clung to your chest. The dorm felt too loud despite the silence, and yet somehow still too empty. You needed an escape—something to distract from the gnawing thoughts that tugged at the edges of your mind.

So, naturally, you found yourself at Ignihyde.

You didn’t say much when you got there. It wasn’t like you needed to. Idia was sitting at his usual setup, bathed in the glow of his multiple monitors, tapping away with his game controller. He didn’t glance up, but his fingers paused just for a second.

“You, uh, can sit over there if you want,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely to a cushion beside him. “No big deal, really. You can just… chill.”

You took the offer, sinking into the seat beside him. Idia never pressed for conversation, which you appreciated more than words could express. The quiet was comforting in a way that only he could provide. His presence wasn’t demanding, nor was it suffocating—it was just there, a steady companion when everything else felt too much.

After a few minutes of just the sounds of the game filling the air, Idia spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“I’m not, like, great at pep talks or anything.” His eyes stayed glued to the screen, a blush dusting his cheeks. “But, like, if you ever… I dunno, need a distraction or something, you can always come by. We can game or… just sit. Whatever works.”

It was such a simple offer, but the sincerity in his voice cut through the haze of your thoughts. You knew Idia wasn’t one for big gestures or emotional outbursts, but his awkward, roundabout way of offering support warmed something deep inside you. He understood—maybe more than anyone else—the desire to escape, to disappear into a world where the problems of reality couldn’t touch you.

The next few times you visited, the routine was the same. Quiet, gaming, the occasional muttered commentary from Idia. But there was something so comforting in the routine, in knowing you didn’t have to explain yourself. That he didn’t expect anything from you, just your presence.

One evening, as the two of you sat in comfortable silence, Idia hesitated, fidgeting with his controller before finally speaking.

“You’re, uh… You’re important, you know that, right? Like, I don’t have many people I’d say that to, but you’re… one of them. Just… don’t disappear, okay?”

The vulnerability in his voice surprised you, and you found yourself blinking back the sting of tears. It was a simple statement, but it held the weight of his affection and worry, wrapped in the awkward delivery that was so uniquely him. You didn’t have to say anything; you knew he wasn’t expecting a response.

Instead, you just stayed. That night, in the warmth of his presence and the soft hum of the game, you felt a little less alone.

Cater Diamond

You hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until you found yourself dragged into Cater’s latest selfie spree. He had a way of sneaking up on you with his usual grin and carefree energy, his arm slung casually around your shoulders as he pulled out his phone.

“Hey! How about we grab some quick pics? No filters this time, just the two of us being real.”

Normally, you’d groan, roll your eyes, and let Cater have his fun without thinking much of it. But today, the idea of being in front of a camera, of capturing yourself as you were now, felt… daunting. You hesitated, tugging at the sleeves of your shirt, your eyes downcast.

Cater, as perceptive as ever, didn’t let it slide.

He turned the camera away for a moment, his smile softening just slightly as he glanced at you. “Hey, no pressure, seriously. We don’t have to do the whole selfie thing if you’re not feeling it. I just thought… you know, we could capture some real moments.”

You glanced up at him, noticing the way his usual carefree demeanor had gentled. Cater might act like everything was all fun and games, but he was more in tune with people’s emotions than he let on. He wasn’t forcing you, wasn’t pushing—just offering a moment of distraction, of fun, if you wanted it.

After a long pause, you finally shrugged, offering a small smile. “Okay, one picture.”

Cater beamed, but it wasn’t his usual bright, showy grin. It was soft, genuine, like he understood what a big step this was for you.

The selfie session wasn’t as performative as you’d expected. Cater didn’t force you into poses or try to make you laugh when you weren’t in the mood. He just stood beside you, his arm slung around your shoulders, and snapped a couple of candid photos. There was something comforting in the simplicity of it, in the way he let you just be.

After a while, he pulled back and glanced at his phone, showing you one of the photos. It wasn’t perfect—your smile was a bit lopsided, your hair a little messy—but Cater grinned at it like it was the best picture he’d ever taken.

“See?” he said, his tone light. “No filters needed. You’re perfect just like this.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and you found yourself blinking back tears you hadn’t realized were there. Cater, ever perceptive, noticed immediately and nudged you gently with his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be ‘camera-ready’ for me. I like you as you are, messy hair and all.”

Later that evening, when you checked your phone, you found the photos he’d sent you. Beneath one of them, he’d written: "Real friends don’t need filters. You’re more than enough, just as you are."

And for the first time in a while, you believed it.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo had always been the type to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. You admired his conviction, his sense of duty, but today, as you sat beside him in the quiet of the garden, it was hard to find comfort in his seriousness.

You had come to him seeking solace, though you weren’t sure if Rollo’s stoic demeanor would offer the comfort you needed. He wasn’t one for soft words or gentle encouragement, but something about the way he watched the world with such intensity made you feel like he saw through the chaos swirling inside you.

For a long while, the two of you sat in silence, the rustle of leaves the only sound breaking the stillness. You expected Rollo to stay silent, as he often did, but after a moment, he spoke, his voice low but steady.

“There’s a battle you’re fighting,” he said, not looking at you. “A battle within yourself. I understand.”

His words startled you, not because they were untrue, but because they were so unexpectedly... personal. You glanced at him, finding his gaze fixed on the horizon, his expression unreadable.

“I’ve fought similar battles,” he continued, his tone measured. “It’s easy to feel overwhelmed, to believe you’re fighting alone. But you’re not. You never have to be.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, and for the first time, you realized just how much you had been carrying by yourself. Rollo’s offer of support was understated, as was his way, but the sincerity behind it was impossible to ignore.

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes softening just a fraction. “I won’t pretend to understand everything you’re going through. But I’m here. I’ll stand with you, as long as you need.”

The weight of his promise hit you harder than you expected, and without a word, you found yourself leaning into his steady presence. He didn’t flinch or pull away—he simply let you rest, offering the quiet strength you didn’t realize you needed.

Welt

Welt’s calm demeanor had always been a source of comfort for you, but today, it felt especially grounding. After a long day of battling your inner turmoil, you found yourself seeking him out, hoping his presence could soothe the storm raging inside.

You didn’t have to say anything when you arrived. Welt, ever perceptive, seemed to understand without words. He led you to a quiet spot under the stars, his gaze gentle as he sat beside you.

“The stars have always been a reminder to me,” he said softly, looking up at the sky. “No matter how dark it gets, there’s always light somewhere. You just have to look for it.”

You followed his gaze, the twinkling lights above offering a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in days. The silence between you was comforting, not suffocating, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe.

Welt turned to you, his expression kind. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever you’re going through, you have people who care about you. And if you ever need a reminder, just look at the stars.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight of sincerity that made your chest ache. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed to hear that. The stars twinkled above, and you found yourself nodding, tears brimming in your eyes.

“I don’t want to burden anyone,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Welt shook his head, a gentle smile breaking across his face. “You’re never a burden. Reaching out is part of being human. We all have our battles, and sharing them makes them lighter. You have to let others in, even when it feels hard.”

You looked away, feeling the warmth of his presence wrap around you like a comforting blanket. Welt had a way of putting things into perspective, of making you feel seen without demanding anything from you. His understanding was a lifeline, a beacon guiding you through the darkness.

“What if I keep struggling?” you asked, the fear spilling out before you could hold it back.

“Then we’ll face it together,” he replied with quiet confidence. “Every time you feel lost, remember that I’m here, and so are the others. Just like the stars—sometimes hidden, but always there.”

As the cool night air wrapped around you, you leaned into Welt’s side, allowing the silence to envelop you both. You felt the tension in your shoulders ease just a little, the comfort of his unwavering presence bolstering your resolve.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you finally said, your voice steadier.

“Me too,” Welt replied, glancing up at the stars once more. “And remember, no matter how dark it gets, you are never truly alone.”

Dr. Ratio

Dr. Ratio sits across from you, his expression calm and thoughtful. He’s not the type to rush into emotional outbursts, but the concern in his gaze is unmistakable.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” he says quietly, voice steady. “I know the weight you’re carrying is immense, but you’re stronger than it.”

You nod, feeling a knot in your chest loosen as he continues. “One step at a time. We’ll make sense of it together. Just know—I’m here for you.”

He reaches out, his hand resting gently on yours. His grip is firm but comforting, grounding you in the moment. The logical part of him is evident in his approach—he breaks things down into manageable pieces, knowing that’s what you need right now.

“There’s no shame in struggling, and there’s no shame in asking for help. It’s okay to feel lost, but you won’t always be. Healing isn’t linear, but each day is progress.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, soothing the anxious storm swirling inside. As you lean into his comfort, he offers you a small smile, the kind that tells you things will get better, even if it doesn’t feel that way now.

“You don’t have to have everything figured out today,” he adds, his thumb gently tracing soothing patterns over your skin. “But I’ll be here, however long it takes.”

Boothill

Boothill isn’t the type to hover, but he knows when someone’s hurting—he’s been there too many times himself. His heavy boots clunk against the floor as he approaches you, sitting down beside you in a quiet, solid presence.

“Life’s got a way of takin' pieces outta you,” he says, voice gravelly. “But you don’t gotta do this alone, partner.”

You look away, unsure of how to respond, but Boothill doesn’t push. Instead, he wraps a comforting arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. It’s a gesture so simple, yet so grounding. You can feel his steady heartbeat, his unwavering support.

“You’re tougher than you think,” he continues, his voice softer now, “but even the toughest folks need a hand sometimes. Ain’t no shame in leanin’ on someone.”

The weight of his words sinks in, and for the first time in a while, you let yourself lean on him, just a little. Boothill’s grip tightens ever so slightly, and he lets out a quiet sigh, as if holding the weight of the world alongside you.

“We’ll get through this, partner,” he murmurs, “one step at a time.”

Boothill isn’t one for long speeches, but the sincerity in his voice is more than enough. You feel the warmth of his presence, the understanding in his quiet demeanor, and for a moment, the weight you’ve been carrying doesn’t feel so heavy.

And with that, you know you’re not alone.

Masterlist

[wandanatsgf]

Sugar, Sugar Part 2

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: You, Wanda, and Natasha go over your sugar baby contract and you experience what it's like having the two women please you.

Warning: This contains smut and the following kinks: degradation, praise, thigh riding, daddy kink, mommy kink (I think that's all of them, but let me know if I missed one)

Author's note: I meant to post this last night, but I ended up falling asleep. Anyway here it is now! I decided to add smut, but since this is the trios first time I kept it pretty tame (at least according to my standards its pretty tame lol)

Part 1 Part 3

After your little date with Natasha and Wanda, you go home with Kate. You climb into bed, surprisingly happy about how today turned out. You never thought being a sugar baby was something you would ever do, but the prospects of being able to afford rent and bills was just too tempting. And it helped that two of the hottest women in the world wanted you. All of your previous reservations about being a sugar baby had practically vanished after your meeting with the women.

You spend your night texting Natasha and Wanda, just getting to know them. You learn about their lives and they learn about yours.

The next morning arrives pretty quickly, and you're excited because you know it means you get to talk to Nat and Wanda some more.

You check your phone and you see that you have two new messages in your newly made groupchat.

Nat: Good morning hon! Text us when you're up, we wanted to meet today and draft up a contract.

Wanda: And have a good day! Talk to you soon baby!

The messages bring a smile to your face, and you quickly text the two women, telling them you can meet them whenever. They decide to pick you up at 1 and to bring you to their home to have this conversation.

The two women arrive at your apartment promptly at 1pm, just like they said they would. Natasha is in the driver's seat, while Wanda is in the drivers seat. Wanda get out when she notices you approaching so that she can open your door.

"Thanks Wanda," you say, blushing over the fact that this beautiful woman is opening the door for you.

"You're welcome darling," she says back. She makes sure that you're buckled before she climbs back into her seat. Once she's situated Natasha takes off to their house.

The three of you converse the throughout the whole drive. You talk about your school, your friends, their work, and more. Pretty soon Natasha is pulling up to a gated driveway and punching in a code. The gate retracts and lets the car in.

As the car pulls into the driveway, your mouth drops open. You knew the two of them were rich, but you didn't realize just how rich they are. Their house is massive, with it's pool and basketball court and tennis court. From the looks of it, the house has everything you could ever need.

"You might want to close your mouth baby," Natasha says with a smile, glancing back at you in her rearview mirror.

"Sorry," you say. You glance down at your lap, hoping to avoid eye contact with either of the women.

"You don't have to apologize baby, she's just teasing. Aren't you Natty?"

Natasha nods in agreement before saying, "You're just so cute when you're embarrassed honey." Natasha throws the car into park and walks around to open the door for you this time. A blush is gracing your face, and you think in the presence of these two, it's never going to go away. She helps you out the car and leads you into the house, with Wanda right behind the two of you. Wanda goes right, while you and Natasha goes left, where she leads you to a home office.

You sit down in a chair while Natasha sits in the one of the left of you.

"Where'd Wanda go?"

"She just went to get some drinks," Natasha says. "She'll be here soon." As soon as those words left Natasha's mouth, in walks Wanda carrying three bottles of water, a laptop, and a stack of papers. She gives one set of papers and water to you and one to Tasha, leaving one for herself.

Wanda sits down on the seat to your right and then she starts talking.

"I know this can be a lot to take in," Wanda says. "But we just wanted to go over everything and make sure you understand what you're getting yourself into. And if you decide to change your mind, you can back out at any time," Wanda assures you.

“Ok so what’s first?”

“First we wanted to talk about what we’re expecting and maybe tweak some things if we need to,” Natasha says. “The paper we gave you is just an example of a contract and what ours could look like.”

“We’re looking for someone to go to events with us when the other can’t go and to keep us company whenever we want. Are those things you’re okay with sweetheart?” Natasha asks you.

“Yes I’m fine with all of that,” you say. “I’d be more than happy to spend time with the two of you,” you say rather flirtatiously.

“Look who’s getting all courageous now,” Wanda lightly teases.

“I guess the two of you are just rubbing off on me.”

“Mhm,” the woman says, agreeing with you. She eyes you up and down, and you can see her pupils dilating, but the look in her eyes disappears just as quickly as it appeared.

“What’s next?”

“So allowance. We were thinking $2000 a week plus whatever gifts we give you. Is that enough?” Wanda asks.

Your mouth drops open.

“What is something wrong? Do you need more?” Natasha asks, noticing your shocked expression.

“No! That’s more than enough,” you assure her. “I’m just not used to that much money,” you explain.

"It's no problem baby, you deserve it." Natasha's words bring a smile to your face.

"Next thing we need to discuss is sex, we can put off this conversation until later or we can have it now, whatever you want baby," Wanda says.

"We can talk about it now," you say, a shy smile gracing your face. Even though you were experienced in the bedroom, the topic still made you embarrassed.

"So you know that we're both doms, and I'm guessing based off of that cute, little smile and blush on your face, you're a sub?" Natasha asks. You nod your head in conformation.

And do you know about the traffic light system?"

"Yes, I've used it before."

"Okay good. If you ever need to safe word for any reason whatsoever, just say red and everything stops. We promise we won't be mad," Wanda says.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that, you two," you say.

"You don't have to thank us honey. We're just doing what all doms should do," Natasha says. Her words give you a sense of comfort. You had never been with someone who cared about your wellbeing like the two of these women did. And the crazy thing is, you had just met these women, but you still felt safe with them.

“And aftercare. What do you like?”

“Cuddles, baths or showers, cuddly naps,” you say.

"Okay that’s actually perfect, that’s what we like too. And now we just need to go over some kinks, and you can just tell us if you like them or not, okay sweetheart?" Wanda asks.

"Okay, that sounds good."

"Bondage?"

"Yes."

"Spanking?"

"Yes."

"Praise?"

"Yes."

"Choking?"

"Yes."

"You're a dirty little thing, aren't you baby? It'd probably be easier for us to just ask what you aren't into huh?" Wanda teases you.

"Yeah, unless you'd like to be here all day," you say.

"I'd have no objections to that," Natasha says, making you giggle. "So what aren't you into baby?"

"Anything with feet, poop, illegal stuff, anything with permanent marks, ummm" you say, trying to think of more. "I think that's it, or it's all I can think of right now."

"I knew you'd be a dirty little thing," Wanda tells you.

"How do you feel about calling Wanda mommy and me daddy?" Natasha asks, slightly changing the subject.

"I'd really like that," you say. You can already feel your pussy starting to drip just talking about all of these kinks, and your neediness is starting to get to you.

"It looks like you really like that princess," Wanda says, her eyes trained on your lap, where you had been trying to subtly adjust yourself, trying to relieve the pressure in your core.

A whine is the only thing that leaves your lips, and it surprises the two women.

"Sounds like you need some help baby," Natasha says.

"Please Daddy," you beg.

Hearing the word daddy fall from your mouth has Natasha instantly reacting. She gets up from her chair and stands behind you. She leans down, her lips lightly grazing you ear. "Are you sure baby? I know we said we'd ease you into this, and if you don't want to do anything sexual right now we don't have to," Natasha says, wanting to make sure you're alright.

"I'm sure, please touch me, I need you," you beg both of the women. Before the words had barely left your mouth you're being attacked by two sets of lips and hands. The next thing you know Wanda is pulling you onto her lap. She lifts your skirt up a bit, adjusting you so that your panty covered mound is against her thigh.

Wanda's lips attach to the side of your neck while Natasha moves to stand behind the two of you, so that you are face to face with her. She tilts your head up so you can look at her. She presses her lips to yours and her kiss is surprisingly gentle.

Wanda's hand go to your hips, adjusting you so that you're straddling one of her thighs. She detaches her lips from your neck so she can speak to you.

"Be a good little slut and ride mommy's thigh, baby," Wanda says to you. You moan into Natasha's mouth, as she continues to kiss you while you start to slowly grind your hips.

"Come on baby. I know you can do better than that. Be a good girl for mommy and daddy and grind on mommy's thigh like a little slut," Natasha says, encouraging you. You start to grind harder on Wanda's thigh, while Natasha's left hand makes it's way to your hair. She threads her fingers through your hair and tilts you head up. Her other hands plies your mouth open and spits in your waiting mouth. The action turns you on even more if that is even possible.

"Swallow," she commands. You obediently swallow. "Good girl," she says when you open your mouth to show her that you swallowed. Natasha's mouth attaches itself to your neck now, her hands slipping underneath your bra and shirt and onto your chest, pinching and toying with your nipples.

Wanda's hands are on your waist, encouraging you to keep moving. As you chase your high your hips speed up, your clit bumping against Wanda's thigh with every thrust. You can feel your high quickly approaching, your senses just so overwhelmed by the two women.

"Please, please, please," you beg, the need to cum approaching. The women's touches are overstimulating, it's like you can feel them everywhere.

"Use your words sweetheart. What's my little slut want?" Wanda says.

"Please mommy, please daddy, let me cum," you beg, your thrusts starting to get sloppy as you start to lose control over yourself.

"Cum for us baby," one of the women say, although you're not sure which one it is, too caught up in your pleasure to notice.

Your loud moans fill up the room as you cum all over Wanda's thigh, your panties becoming soaked and sticky as your cum leaks out of your pussy and into them.

"You did such a good job baby," Wanda says. She moves you so that your arms are wrapped around her neck and she presses gentle kisses to your face.

"You're such a good girl, doing everything we asked so perfectly," Natasha praises. The praise makes you cling onto Wanda more, making you more needy than you already are, but the two women don't mind. 'Do you wanna go shower sweetheart?"

"But what about you two?" you ask, referencing the fact that neither woman came.

"This was just about you baby. You can help us out some other time," Wanda says.

"ok," you say agreeing with Wanda. "Can I have a bath instead?"

"Of course angel, whatever you want," Natasha says.

The three of you make your way to the bathroom, passing through what you think is Natasha and Wanda’s bedroom to get there. Natasha grabbing soap and a wash cloth for you while Wanda makes the bath for you.

"Bubbles or no bubbles?"

"Bubbles please," you say. Wanda grabs her favorite bubble bath and pours some into the tub for you. Soon the tub is filled up and the two women go to leave, assuming you would want some privacy, when you stop them.

"Can you join me please? Unless you don't want to, which is fine," you say quickly, your voice trailing off at the end.

"Of course we'll join you honey," Natasha says. Pretty soon the three of you are sitting in the massive tub, bubbles surrounding the three of you. You’re cuddled in between the two women, while they both bathe you.

“Okay are you ready to get out now?” Wanda asks after you had been in there long enough for the water to go cold. You nod yes and let the two women help you out. They dry you off and give you some of their own clothes to wear.

“Thank you,” you tell the two women once you were dressed, sleepiness lacing your voice.

“You’re welcome sweetheart,” Wanda says, leaving a gentle kiss on your nose.

“Of course, honey,” Natasha says, gently kissing your cheek. “Do you need a nap baby?”

“Yes please,” you say. Hearing you say yes please melts the two women’s hearts, not that they would tell you that though.

The two women take you to their room and lay you gently in the bed. They crawl in too, surrounding you on both sides.

“Go to sleep honey. We’ll be here when you wake up,” Wanda says. The two women leave kisses on your head while you cuddle into them, eventually drifting off.

Once you’re asleep the two women share a look and they both know what the other is thinking. They like you a lot, way more than they’ve ever liked a sugar baby before, and they don’t know what it means yet. But they will gladly find out.

taglist: @alexawynters @marvelwomen-simp @tobiaslut @flositaa

[buddierecs]

post season 7 buddie fics

in honour of season 8 coming out in a few days, here is a list of fics that have been released over the hiatus set post season 7. all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

ice cream before dinner (my beloved) by: cloudydaisies "gerrard messes with the team's schedules and eddie 'i just drove my son to flee the state' diaz is the only option to watch mara and jee-yun after school on tuesdays, which, shouldn't be a problem at all, right?" word count: 58k important tags: girl!uncle eddie, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions, feelings realisation, minor buck/tommy, family feels take me home (to my heart) by: literalmetaphor "eddie and maddie end up in an impossible situation." word count: 20k important tags: car accidents, injury, hurt!eddie diaz, hurt!maddie han, maddie & eddie friendship, worried!evan buckley, getting together it's always on the tip of my tongue by: allyasavedtheday "eddie diaz vs the great romance paradigm." word count: 17k important tags: character study, therapy, emotional hurt/comfort, falling in love, demisexual!eddie diaz all my little words by: youbetsya "eddie: did you just send me an email?? buck: yeah lol eddie: why… i dont think you’ve ever emailed me actual words before. just stuff to print when your printer is broken buck: did you read it? eddie: Not yet. too busy trying to figure out why the fuck you’re emailing me buck: just read it dude 🙄" word count: 11k important tags: texting, idiots in love, getting together, eddie diaz mustache three strikes and you're out by: eightpackdiaz "buck's soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend chooses to ignore him every time the kiss cam points in their direction. eddie does the opposite" word count: 3.1k important tags: minor buck/tommy, cheating, kiss him, jealous!eddie diaz, tommy kinard bashing, first kiss a honey shade of blue by: hattalove "one toddler, two conversations, and so many missed opportunities for buck to act like a guy not in love with his best friend." word count: 8k important tags: getting together, pining!evan buckley, first kiss catatonia by: dqstcrdly "buck and eddie get into a car accident, buck thinks eddie is dead, and goes catatonic about it." word count: 13k important tags: car accidents, near death experiences, love confessions, angst, hurt/comfort, getting together, tommy kinard bashing knowing me, knowing you by: kiwibuckley "five times eddie was the better (boy)friend, and the one time he was the boyfriend" word count: 10k important tags: 5+1 things, friends to lovers, getting together, minor buck/tommy, tommy kinard bashing, eddie diaz loves evan buckley, petty!eddie diaz, pining sweet talk by: daisies_and_briars "eddie asks to crash at the loft while christopher is gone, struggling to be on his own. only problem? there's only one bed, and no couch." word count: 6.5k important tags: there was only one bed, minor buck/tommy, healing, couch theory this postcard tells you where we've been by: daisies_and_briars "eddie finds a collection of postcards buck sent to chris over his summer in el paso." word count: 3.5k important tags: getting together, first kiss, fluff, christopher diaz has two dads glass on the pavement under my shoe by: doitgently "buck takes a great big tumble. like always, eddie is right behind him." word count: 9.4k important tags: near death experience, major character injury, love confessions, angst with happy ending you'd have to stop the world (just to stop the feeling) by: wenttoafortuneteller "the eddie diaz gay realization arc we all deserve. in which bobby puts some pieces together, chimney sees something he shouldn’t, hen gets to have a conversation she’s been waiting to have for years, and buck can’t understand why his best friend is avoiding him." word count: 23k important tags: character study, catholic guilt, pre-relationship, self-discovery, self-acceptance, feelings realisation hope it hurts, burns & you finally grieve me by: dylaesthetics "eddie spontaneously visits a church and things fall into place." word count: 4.8k important tags: character study, religious guilt, angst, friends to lovers, getting together

[philosophiums]

Megumi Rant bc I'm So Tired

I was gonna talk about 271 and the ending chapters of JJK in general, specifically focusing on how Shonen Jump puts a hard end date on each series it publishes (which are based on conversations with the mangakas, sure, but with no leeway once it’s determined because SJ wants to keep cycling through new publications in order to keep making money - and those hard line end dates cannot possibly account for, say, sudden illness that would prevent a mangaka from releasing a chapter) and how it’s the best end to the series that many fans could have asked for given that info, but I’m tired and I don’t feel like yelling at a wall, so here’s a rebuttal aimed at a lot of Megumi hot takes™ I’ve seen since, really, 269 dropped.

Obligatory thing up front bc I know the JJK fandom hates reading and critical thought more than anything in the world, and that it operates on a very "but what about me" mentality: It's totally fine if you are dissatisfied with JJK in general or even just the ending. It's totally fine if you have mixed feelings about the way the story was wrapped up. It's totally fine if you think it could have been handled better even given the above information in the link above on how SJ operates. I'm not telling you to feel a certain way, but I'm walking you through the end of the story (read: Megumi's character specifically) bc I am so fucking tired of reading bad takes about "Gege hating Megumi" or whatever.

Holding everyone's hands as I go through these. Let's take these steps in shedding directionless rage together.

(Forewarning that this is long as hell. Gomen.)

Common Argument Number 1: Megumi didn’t have a character arc/didn't grow as a character

The first thing that needs to be understood to realize why this is wrong is that all of the characters in JJK have arcs based around power - gaining it, losing it, being overwhelmed by it, and so on. This is not new information as of the last few chapters; we've known for years now that JJK isn't a story that's focused on deep introspection nor prolonged emotional development. Power. Cursed Techniques. That's where Gege kept his focus. However, it's impossible to write a story with heavy themes of loss and fear and love without touching into a character's emotions at all, some of which become central enough to turn into arcs. (We'll circle back to this in just a moment.) The second thing that needs to be understood here is that, in the general sense of All Media (and not just JJK), not all character arcs have to span the entire length of a story. A full and complete character arc (which is to say, the movement that happens while a character is actively changing) can happen in half of a story or less, and it is no less satisfying for having done so. Now, what does all of that have to do with Megumi? Very explicitly, it means that Megumi not only experiences growth as a character, but that he also goes through not one, but two character arcs. ((He's not the only character with two arcs, but he's the reason for this post, so you guys can track down the others on your own.)) Both of his arcs are complete, in my opinion, even if they're not 100% satisfying. But satisfaction isn't the argument here, so we can touch on that later. Maybe. Megumi's first arc (his power arc) starts right out of the gate, but it doesn't begin to take shape until the chapters at the detention center (I would argue it specifically starts to become an "arc" [which is to say, experiences movement] right at the point where Yuuji dies - this is the inciting incident in Megumi's story), and it concludes during the Culling Games (the exact place of it's conclusion is a little waffle-y for me but it's between either the moment he is able to use his technique to beat someone solo within the depths of his shadows OR the exact moment that Sukuna looks at him and thinks that he's strong enough now to be Sukuna's vessel). This arc follows Megumi coming to terms with the reality that if he wants to save people, he needs to get stronger and he needs to get more in touch with the side of himself that is/creates his CT. And he accomplishes that. Is there more growth in this department that he could have had? Yes, absolutely. Taming Mahoraga, a fully realized domain expansion, etc. All of that could have happened, but none of that needs to happen in order for this arc to be complete. He sought power, he got power, and he used it to save people. That's a fully realized and completed arc. Megumi's second arc (his emotional arc) happens during the time Sukuna is wearing him like a suit. This arc has nothing at all to do with anything that happens before this point in time (it has nothing to do with power, nothing to do with fighting, nothing to do with saving people). Before this, Megumi's emotional state is fairly stagnant; any goals and/or momentum that he has outside of wanting to become stronger are usually skipped over or not acknowledged at all. Once his bodily autonomy is stripped from him, all that's left is emotion. And we get to see a complete emotional arc here - starting in stagnation, inciting incident of being possessed, and then the slow chipping away of his resolve as Sukuna kills his sister and performs a ritual to suppress Megumi's soul completely. Megumi is at his lowest point here, but he overcomes it and chooses to live. That's a complete arc. That's a conclusion. No amount of wanting him to mourn Gojo or of wishing for This, That, or The Other things change the fact that his arcs do in fact reach natural conclusions within the story.

Common Argument Number 2: Megumi didn't have a satisfying conclusion

I think this argument is a bit of a pull from a misunderstanding that revolves around argument number one. People are looking for an arc that is wrapping up in the final chapters, and they're upset that they're not finding it. And the reason they're not finding it is because, as mentioned above, Megumi's arcs concluded before he regained consciousness post-Shinjuku. Also, this may come as a shock to some people, but "satisfying" is relative. Which also means that I can't exactly argue against what people are feeling, because in this specific instance, it's all feelings based. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to try!! I already covered that Megumi fully concluded both of his arcs, so it's not that he's lacking in power or emotional development. I think what people get stuck on is what Megumi says before he begins to fight back against Sukuna: that he wants to try to live for someone else. A lot of readers seem to take this as a step backwards for him, a return to who he was before everything in the story, but I disagree. I think it's actually a large step forward for him and, beyond that, I think it's realistic beyond simply satisfying the narrative. At the beginning of the story, Megumi is living for nothing. It's common for the fandom to think he's living for Tsumiki, but she's fully comatose and cursed; I doubt that he's living for her. At most he's living just in case a miracle happens and she wakes up, but that's not living for her. He's in what I think of as a transitional space, and he's stuck there. He's the only one in his year at Jujutsu Tech, he's not trying to develop his CT, he's just existing - going on missions and rolling his eyes at Gojo and doing school work. At the end of the story, Megumi actively chooses life. He had a way out, he felt that in many ways he was already dead - or at the very least, that he was irredeemable and better off dead. But he chooses to live. He chooses to fight back. And, more than that, he chooses to become an active participant in life. Yes, for him that means living for Yuuji, but even that still requires wanting to keep going, wanting to keep putting one foot in front of the other. He wants to face the world and all it has to offer - despite all the bad, and maybe in spite everything he went through. That's a satisfying character conclusion in my eyes. Everyone wants realistic representation of the struggle surrounding mental illness and how victories with them are not as "grand" as for neurotypical people until they're actually presented with realistic representation. Then all of a sudden it's "bad writing" and "unsatisfying" because the character didn't end the story without any gaps or holes and with a perfect little bow wrapped around their neck. God forbid there be an implication that a character gets to continue to live and grow beyond the last page. Anyway, just because he didn't have the conclusion you wanted for him that you built up in your head after years of living with the fanon version of Megumi you created doesn't mean his conclusion was bad or unsatisfying.

Common Argument Number 3: Megumi's characterization went right back to how it was during the Culling Game arc

...Duh??? I mean... where else was his personality and his behavior supposed to go? He spent a month completely suppressed by Sukuna. The only thing he was going to do without intervention is regress, not progress. What happened to Megumi when Yuuji reached out to him was him coming back to himself - and the only "himself" he had in recent memory was who he was immediately before Sukuna took over. Character progression cannot happen in stagnation, and stagnation is all Megumi had while he was suppressed in the bath™. Expecting any of that to change him for the better or to push him in any "forward" momentum is, quite honestly, ridiculous. The only direction Megumi could have gone is backwards, and he is (which means also we are) just lucky that he was able to be dragged into the version of himself that had already grown and that was waiting for his return.

Common Argument Number 4: Megumi didn't do anything during the fight against Sukuna

What gets me about this stance is that it seems to be the only one shared between the "shonen bros" who only read manga for the fight scenes and the hardcore Megumi stans who wish so desperately that he was the main character of the series. But like... what do you want him to do, here, exactly? Somehow find within himself the urge to get up and fight what seems to be a losing battle after watching his own hands kill not only his sister but the most prominent adult figure in his life? Resist all on his own (with no prior arc moments to support it) whatever mystical magical bs makes the bath™ work in keeping his soul suppressed? Do you want a good and well-structured character arc with logical emotional weight, or do you just want your favorite character to defeat a villain that is not "his" villain? I'll wait. Megumi's struggles during this story arc are internal, and his inability to fight is reflective of that. If he were to be resisting against Sukuna the whole time - trying to wrest control of his CT back or attempting to attack Sukuna's soul himself - then we would still be sitting in his power arc during this time. Megumi's inaction is physical representation of the inner turmoil and struggle that he was in during the fight, and I don't think that's very hard to understand. He is fighting; it's just that he's fighting himself. And he wins that fight. And he does do something in the fight against Sukuna. I firmly believe that Megumi choosing to live sealed the deal on Sukuna's death. Why else would Sukuna have been panicking so hard and doing everything he could to keep Megumi depressed and stuck in the ruts of his mind? If Megumi hadn't chosen life, hadn't decided he wanted to keep fighting in that moment, Sukuna would still be kicking. I don't think it's a stretch, actually, to say that Megumi delivered the blow that weakened Sukuna to Yuuji's kill shot. Megumi was integral to the fight - he just needed to go through his emotional arc first.

I'm sure I'm missing things, I'm sure I forgot things. But this isn't college and I'm not writing for a grade. What I am is tired of both Megumi hate and Gege hate. Megumi is a well-written character who is good representation of depression (at minimum), and who is also not the fucking main character. Like, I'm sorry that the character you project your mental illness onto acts mentally ill, and I'm sorry your favorite character is a side character who is written like a side character. These things tend to happen.

Yes, obviously, more could have been done with him and the wrapping of his character (and all of the characters) if the ending wasn't rushed, but that's not Gege's fault. Blame capitalism if you want to point fingers. JJK isn't the first manga with a rushed ending for exactly that reason, and it won't be the last.

Okay, I have to force myself to stop talking or we'll be here forever but:

The ending of JJK is not "bad writing," it's the best outcome that could have happened given the time constraints and publication constraints.

I agree that it would have been nice to see acknowledgements from the characters of the trauma they went through, but also I think that those things realistically take time. I don't think it's unreasonable that their first instinct would be to pretend that everything is normal for as long as they can. However, Megumi was not handled poorly, and he was not abandoned by Gege, and Gege does not hate him. He was well-written start to finish, and he was given a lovely ending that leaves his future wide open for possibilities.

Take a deep breath and stop trying to be the loudest voice in the room. Look at the text and supplement it with reality and the hard truths of a really shitty work culture, and understand that being upset is valid, but it's not valid enough to justify seething hatred for a mangaka whose entire work you probably read for free <3