ULTRASLVT

Back when he roamed the earth alone, destined to walk moonlit streets only, seeking his prey in the dark. It was a life he had grown accustomed to, but every single time he hunted, he was hoping he could find someone else. Just one person.

One person to exchange a kind word with. A soft caress maybe, to breathe life back into this dead body of his.

Just someone like him. Who understood.

The worst thing a vampire could be was lonely, Suguru thought before he met you. Now he knows the pain of heartbreak was far greater.

Because how cruel does this cursed existence have to be, to give one a sliver of hope – and then brutally take it all away again?

You made Suguru realised he wasn't a dark void after all, because if his heart hurt this much, it was surely still there.

Dead, unmoving, but there.

It changed everything.

You changed everything.

You.

In all his years, no – centuries alone, you finally came to him like an angel in the night. Dripping in blood, the red crimson mixing with your skin and glowing under the full moon.

You hadn't noticed him straight away, which he thought amusing. Considering the amount of work Suguru had put into his stealth abilities, he was glad to see it could work even on those of his kind. It also gave him just a few seconds longer to just…watch.

You were pinning down someone under you, teeth deep into their neck as you gorged yourself. Nothing more than an animal at that point, reminding Suguru of the worst part of his condition. But such a primitive, hideous sight was made mesmerizing by you.

You were like a painter.

Blood was your ink. The street was your canvas.

Did you know he was watching? Was that why you took your time in that way?

Suguru always drank with nothing but disgust for himself, swallowing the other person's essence as fast as he could as if a quick death was somehow an apology.

Such a disgusting act shouldn't be made so beautiful.

Where had you even come from?

Suguru had roamed this continent for years and had never met anyone else.

Here you were – the answer to all his prayers. Maybe they weren't going on deaf years after all. Maybe he still deserved a little respite, despite being what he was.

Suguru wanted to cry, but he held it in so to not disturb you. The worst thing that could happen was startle you and have you ran away.

At that moment though, he had decided he'd follow you to the ends of the earth if he had to.

An odd promise made to someone not even aware of his existence yet, but Suguru was desperate – he needed you. Hadn't even met you, but he fucking needed you.

You finally tilted your head upwards, fangs fully on show, red on white.

And then you saw him.

He noticed how your eyes immediately met his, like an invisible thread had pulled you to him. The eyes of a beast, deformed like his were, an unnatural colour that matched the blood you were wiping from your chin.

Suguru saw you get ready to run away, with the way your legs tensed and your posture rearranged. But he was quick to put his hands up, taking a quiet step in your direction.

You cocked your head sideways, assessing. Understanding.

And then your beautiful lips parted.

"How long have you been watching?" you finally asked, the small hint of a prideful smirk tugging at the edges of your lips.

What a beautiful sound it was. Suguru couldn't breathe – your voice was nearly as gorgeous as your beautiful face, now fully visible to him.

You were his salvation. He was sure of it.

An angel sent from above. Or… below, in this case.

"I didn't know there were others" he heard himself say, voice shaking just like the hands he hid in his pockets; too worried of anything that might make you look down on him.

You stared at him for a moment. Taking him in, your head tilted in curiosity.

And then your posture dropped a little, less guarded and more sad. Pitiful, even.

"How long have you been alone?"

That's when the first tears started pouring out of Suguru's red eyes, his body reacting to your question before his mind could.

He felt himself sink to his knees, falling to your feet, tears spilling and spilling like they hadn't in years. Probably not since before he had lost his mortality.

You could have run away. Could have laughed at him, thought him weak like his maker had, and left to find your next victim.

To expect compassion from a vampire was far beyond reason.

But you didn't do that.

Instead, you walked towards him. Slowly, carefully, maybe even wondering if this had been a trap. It didn't hurt to be cautious, not in this world. Not for who you were.

You lowered yourself on your knees – so close, much closer than he had been to anyone he didn't intend on drinking blood from in the past centuries. And then you extended a tentative hand, and cupped his cheek.

"I know what it's like" you murmured.

Suguru didn't mean to throw himself at you like he had, but all reason had left him the second you spoke to him so kindly. His arms crossed your back, pulling you into him and crashing onto you at the same time, crying onto your chest so loud it might alert other people to the crime scene you currently found yourselves on.

But nothing else mattered at that moment.

He had found you.

His angel.

The feeling of arms around his back was foreign to him at this point – how long had it been since someone pulled him in instead of away? Since someone held him?

Your skin was as cold as his, but he could swear his heart felt warm.

And as Suguru cried tears of grief and of relief, you slowly caressed his long strands, shushing him with gentleness a creature like him did not deserve.

 Suguru wasn't even sure how long you held him like that. So patient.

You were perfect.

He took you to his apartment that night – you were surprised he even had one. But in all his years alive, or, dead, really, he felt a bit of comfort was necessary. After too long roaming aimlessly, Suguru just wanted a home.

He just never expected he'd actually get to invite someone in, and expose a little more of himself than he had intended. But Suguru wanted to try.

You told him your name. An old sound, not native to this land and maybe, to any of the modern day. But you refused to say more; to tell him who was your maker or how long you had been like this, so Suguru didn't pry.

You wanted to move forward, you explained. Look ahead instead of behind. That sounded great to him – Suguru was never able to look at anywhere but the past. His regrets. The wrong turns he had made. Maybe you could help change that.

Another curious thing about you was that you didn't speak of your vampire condition with hatred at all. To you, living forever was exciting, not a curse. You spoke of lands you wished to see and things you still wanted to do.

The world changed every day and you were changing with it. It was a beautiful perspective, something he had never even considered.

But when he asked of the things you missed, you stayed quiet.

Too quiet.

"What's the point of reminiscing" you scoffed, and Suguru could tell there was a splinter there somewhere.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Don't be" you interrupted, looking him in the eyes once more. If he had a living heart, it would have beat faster, he was sure of it. "Are you hungry?" you squinted, so good at reading him already.

"I try not to over indulge" he explained. He worried you might call him weak for admitting he hated to kill, but you seemed more confused than anything.

"It's almost dawn" you muttered. "Will you be ok until nightfall?"

Were you worried about him?

"I am used to it" he tried to smile.

You were still not convinced.

"You don't like the taste?" you asked, one brow raising as if trying to conceal your judgment.

"It's not that, it's–" he struggled with his words, letting out a long sigh. "I don't like inflicting pain"

Your lips turned into an almost smile, amused. "But you're a vampire" you said, as if he didn't already know.

"Am I?" he teased, letting out a self deprecating chuckle.

You laughed with him. Head falling forwards just slightly, your pointy teeth in full display as you let out the sweetest laugh he had heard in centuries.

"I'd assume so" you teased back. "Fangs, check. Red eyes, check" you paused, humming with a finger to your chin. "Perhaps you are just a deformed human?"

Suguru laughed with you. "I haven't seen my face in years, but I'd hope it wasn't deformed"

"No" you smiled. "It's a very handsome face"

That gave him pause, his mouth hanging open before he could blurt out the next taunt in your back and forth.

You thought he was handsome?

He had heard it often, back when he was alive. But being unable to see his reflection was one of the curses of a vampire.

Truth was, he didn't even remember his human face anymore.

"It is?" he asked, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

"It is" you smiled. And then you brought your hand to his face, a single finger ghosting over his cold skin. You took your time in tracing every curve and ridge of his skin, your eyes tracking your finger like you were making a mental map for later.

"I like the shape of your eyes" you murmured. "And of your cheeks"

Suguru almost pulled you into a kiss right then, but he was left completely frozen under your touch. It had been years, no – centuries, since someone touched him with such kindness. Looked at him like something to admire instead of fear.

"How is mine?" you asked suddenly, dropping your hand despite how much he wanted you to keep going.

"What?" he murmured, like snapping back from a trance.

"How is my face?" you repeated.

Oh, he smiled, unsure of where even to start. Suguru had many words for it. Beautiful, mesmerising, gorgeous.

But instead, he said–

"I could show you"

Your eyebrows immediately drew closer, head tilting to the side in confusion.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"I can draw" he nodded to the small notebook lying on the table, some white pages scattered around it. "Would you like me to draw you?"

It was your turn to be completely frozen in place now. He could have sworn your lower lip wobbled a little, tears starting to form in your beautiful eyes, though you swallowed them as best as you could.

"Could you?" you asked. "I don't even remember what I look like"

"I know what that's like" he echoed the words you had said earlier in the evening.

Something happened between the two of you then.

One of those things only poets could really do justice. It felt like that invisible thread had tugged the two of you just a little closer.

And in your face, a myriad of emotions – gratitude. Acknowledgment. Kinship between monsters, who didn't feel very monstrous at all in this moment in time.

Suguru pulled out his materials – parchment paper and ink, while his model watched patiently.

"How do you want me?" you asked, sounding a little nervous, if he had heard it right.

There were a million ways Suguru could answer that question.

"You're perfect just like that" he replied.

Your eyes blinked, whole face tensing before it relaxed finally, and you sat back a little more on the sofa you shared.

"It's mean to tease" you complained with an adorable frown.

"It's just the truth" he hummed, starting to prepare.

The first step was looking at his subject. Suguru took his time to take in every little detail of your expression, unable to ignore how you struggled to hold his gaze or how you tried to force your lips to not smile.

How did he get this lucky?

Eventually the pen did touch the paper, tracing dark lines carefully, hoping his hands would be skilled enough to capture even a fraction of your charm.

You waited calmly, the most patient subject he had ever had. It had been a long while since anyone allowed him to paint them like this – not since this cursed had removed him from society and life.

He had long felt unable to walk among the living.

But now with you, he'd happily walk among the dead.

"Let me see" you said as soon as his hands put the pen down. Not that patient, it seemed.

Suguru turned the paper around, and your hands wrapped around it to bring them closer. Your eyes darted from one corner of the page to the other, taking in everything, every single thing.

"It's beautiful" you whispered.

"You are" Suguru agreed.

You turned to him, and he noticed you were crying.

"Is this what I look like?" you asked, holding the drawing close.

It was Suguru's turn to cup your cheek, thumb brushing under your eyes. "I was only able to capture a fraction of your beauty"

You swallowed thickly, lip trembling, and then you turned to the picture again. "They used to say I had my mother's eyes" you whispered, brushing a finger over the drawing. "I haven't seen her eyes in years"

Suguru didn't know what to say to that. He didn't remember his family's faces either.

You looked back at him, clutching the drawing to your chest.

"Thank you" you whispered among the tears.

Suguru couldn't take it any longer.

He leaned forwards, slamming his lips across yours as your hands gladly found his long strands, pulling him desperately closer to you.

How long had it been since he had been kissed?

He couldn't even remember.

Your mouth eagerly parted for him, accepting him, inviting him, your own tongue searching for his as neither of you cared about how messy you were. Lips, tongues, teeth – all slamming together in a dance of pure need.

He only noticed you were bleeding when he felt the metallic taste on his tongue, reawakening his empty stomach. "I'm sorry–" he said, kissing your lips over and over where he had impulsively bitten them.

But you laughed. "Are you that hungry?" you teased.

"I couldn't help it, I–" he tried to explain.

I just wanted you whole, is what he would have said, maybe. I just need you too much.

But your laugh once again interrupted all thoughts going through his head.

He watched you bring your forearm to your mouth, biting right in the middle of it, and extending the dripping red to him.

"You can feast on me" you said. "I'm already dead"

Suguru didn't know if you were taunting him for his comment earlier, but he gratefully accepted. Vampire blood wouldn't fill him up like human, but it would definitely help quench his hunger.

His lips closed where you had bitten your skin, swallowing your essence as his eyes closed and his throat hummed.

No one had ever tasted this sweet.

He was lost in it. Addicted from a single taste.

His hands held each side of your arm, pulling you closer to him as he gorged on you.

And then you made a sound – small, unintentional, and beautiful. Suguru snapped his fox eyes open to look at you, your mouth open in pleasure as the sweetest whimpers escaped your lips.

Suguru's lips immediately left your forearm to find yours again, needing to swallow your symphony. "Did you like that?" he asked, hands traveling to your waist and lower, settling on your hips where you rolled them with abandon, grinding against his.

"Yeah" you moaned, nodding your head and desperately holding his face.

Suguru didn't need any more encouragement.

His mouth traveled to your neck this time, fangs sinking into your flesh in a blink, your whole body convulsing at the contact.

"Fuck–" you whimpered, as Suguru kept drinking from you, stealing your blood like you had stolen his unbeating heart.

His whole body was caging you in, his hands encouraging your hips to keep moving as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him further into you.

"Suguru" you moaned his name, and he was gone.

His hands moved from your hips to your middle, easily tearing the fabric of the clothes you wore, and you looked at him wide eyed with an amused smile, the red still dripping from your neck along the curve of your collarbone.

Suguru repositioned himself, bringing his body lower and forcing your legs to your chest, desperate to taste all of you.

In a quick movement, he was bunching his long hair into a bun, eyes hypnotized by the sight of you, naked, legs open in invitation.

"You're beautiful" he whispered, finally sinking his head between your thighs. He inhaled your scent, so sweet it was intoxicating, and licked a long stripe along your underwear that made your whole body jolt up.

He was sure your strength could match his, but you didn't complain when he pinned you down fully and gave your underwear the same treatment the rest of your clothes had gotten, the tearing sound of the fabric echoing in the room until you were fully exposed.

How long had it been?

Suguru felt something close to anxiety in his stomach, worried he wouldn't know how to satisfy you properly. It had been decades of no practice, after all.

But your hand closed around his, urging him with a single blink of your long eyelashes, bottom lip caught between your fangs like you needed him to.

Suddenly all worry was gone, and the only thing left in the world was you.

Suguru lowered himself, tongue licking a flat strip along your slit, and your other hand searched for his hair, pulling strands off the loose bun he had hastily put together.

He took his time exploring, learning what you liked, paying attention to each little reaction. He was so grateful you let him be here. So grateful you had stumbled into his life.

"Right here?" he asked, smiling against your folds when you let out a particularly loud moan.

"Mmh" you shook your head yes desperately, rocking your hips on his face, and Suguru thought himself the happiest man unalive. "Right there, please, Sugu–"

"You're so pretty when you beg" he smiled, dragging his tongue along the same spot that had you seeing stars.

Your moans kept building and building, echoing through the walls of his small apartment.

"Close already?" he asked, feeling just a little bit smug at how quickly he was making you unravel. Perhaps this wasn't a talent easily lost.

"It's been–ngh–a long time" you explained, hands gripping his shoulders, body folding inwards.

Suguru watched you fall apart on his tongue and it was the most beautiful thing he'd witnessed in all his years.

But not only that – it felt almost a little special, that it also had been a long time for you.He wasn't sure why he had assumed the contrary, but he hated to think life had been as lonely for you as it had for him.

Your nails dug so deep into his shoulders they drew blood now, but you didn't seem to notice in your daze. Gods, Suguru wished he could see you like this every day to the rest of eternity.

He finally stood up, removing each article of clothing slowly, as his smug grin followed each tremble of the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Beautiful.

Your eyes followed each new uncovered inch of him. His defined shoulders, his veiny forearms. How his bun came loose and fell along his broad back, dark strands brushing over the skin of his defined chest.

He was handsome. Perfectly chiselled and perfectly defined like he had been created to bring you to your knees.

And to your knees it brought you. You swiftly pushed yourself off the sofa to kneel in front of this magnificent, beautifully unnatural man, as your fingers hooked to the edge of his trousers, the last bit of clothing that hid him from you.

"You want to take me in your mouth?" he asked, thumb brushing your cheek as you nodded an eager yes. "You're so good to me" he hummed in amusement. Each word from him was a mixture of tender and lewd, his soft tone dripping with desire himself.

You finally freed him of his clothes, a little startled at the sheer size of him. You wanted him so bad, wanted to feel every inch of him–

"Open"

All thoughts disappeared in a puff of smoke, hearing him sound like that.

So you did.

"Good" he groaned, sinking into your mouth. He took his time, slowing down when you gagged around him, holding your head in complete control. A control you relented, considering you could easily bite his member off if you so wished.

But it felt… nice, to not be in control anymore.

A vampire life was calculated, precise, constantly on the look out.

It felt nice to give him all of you.

And the boy who was crying in your arms hours ago, was now rocking his hips against your face with abandon, whispering little praises that motivated you to take him deeper, and deeper, and deeper.

Suguru was close to losing his mind, each thread of reality snapping away at the way your throat constricted around him. He was so close to releasing himself in your mouth, but he didn't want that.

Not before he had felt your orgasm on his cock.

He pulled you away, panting, but didn't give you much time to question it. Suguru was on top of you in an instant, hands on either side of your head, his mouth back on yours.

His body pinned you down on the floor, your legs closed around his waist again – as if neither of you wanted to waste any more time, your hips slammed together in a unnatural pace, all of him sinking into you while your face scrunched at the stretch.

"Too much?" he asked, but you were smiling at him again.

"Not enough" you replied, pushing yourself up to bite his bottom lip, urging him back down towards you.

He was probably the one bleeding this time, but he didn't care, the taste mixed perfectly with your tongue. The urgency with which you kissed him urged his hips to start moving, slamming into yours harder and harder.

His hands came to lift your hips to give him better leverage, while yours held on to his shoulders so you could let him. You had met only hours earlier and now Suguru had you practically folded in half, with scratches all around his back to prove how much you loved it.

"You ngh feel so good" you panted, drawing blood from him again, some of the red dripping against your cheek to contrast your beautiful skin.

Maybe it was because his senses were so much sharper, but he didn't remember sex ever feeling like that. So intimate, so… surrendered. Two deadly monsters rejoicing in pleasure together.

It was the beginning of something he hoped would never fade.

An eternity he finally felt happy about.

 "Why do you close your eyes?"

"What?" Suguru's head snapped back to you. There was still a faint trace of red where you had wiped it on your cheek; and he suspected on the tips of your fingers too, where they were interlaced with his. Suguru thought it better to not check, deciding to focus on your red eyes instead, and how they sparkled under the moonlight.

It was a night like any other. Hunting unaware passerby's, walking hand in hand back to your lair as if it was romantic.

You hated when he called it murder. So he didn't.

"When you feed" you answered, the breath coming out of your mouth and forming a haze all around. It was a cold winter, this one. The coldest one yet.

"Do I?" he mused, noticing he had never quite thought about it.

"You do" you replied. "And you avert your gaze when I feed too"

"Hm" his grip tightened around your hand, pulling you in closer ever so slightly. "I suppose it's because I don't enjoy it"

He didn't need to look to see the way your jaw had tightened. "You'd rather go hungry?" you scoffed.

"No, of course not" he replied. His thumb traced lazily over the top of your hand, soothing you – or himself. "Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it"

You stopped moving then, bringing him to a stop before you. You squinted your eyes, assessing him with a slight pout. Suguru's long fingers traveled to your jaw, gently wiping the red still there, letting the touch linger over your cold skin.

Suguru had seen you in every possible state in the months since you had been together – when you were naked and beautiful as an angel on top of him, crying from how good he made you feel; to dripping in blood and looking no more than a beast.

But he always found you beautiful.

Maybe that was a problem.

He didn't care.

"Do you enjoy it?" he asked, fighting against the lump in his throat that didn't want him to ask the question. He was sure nothing you said could make him see you different, but this was walking dangerously close.

To his surprise, you paused, tilting your head so your cheek would rest on his palm. Your eyes met his, but they weren't fully with him, something else clearly on your mind.

"I don't know" you answered, truthfully. "I never really thought about it"

That answer seemed to confuse him even more.

"You never thought about it?" he echoed, brushing his thumb over your skin.

You shook your head sideways in confirmation. "I suppose… it's just what I do" you murmured, and for a moment, you weren't there again.

Too lost in whatever memory your mind had locked you in.

Suguru didn't want to pry, but he also couldn't help wanting to know everything about you. "You never told me about your past" he said, more a suggestion than anything.

It was clearly the wrong move.

Your eyes suddenly snapped back to reality, not tender like they had just been – they locked on his with a hiss, and you stepped back from him like his touch burned.

"I'm sorry, I–"

"I don't want to talk about it" you interrupted, tone final and cold like a dagger right in his unbeating heart. Suguru put his hands up, not wanting to startle you further. If there was anyone who understood regrets, it would be him.

"I'm sorry" he said again, and you finally softened, letting your guard down little by little.

Your lips pursed sideways, annoyed with yourself at how easily Suguru got through your defenses. He half expected you to turn around and brave the night alone, maybe find another victim to take out the frustrations he brought out of you on.

But to his surprise, you moved closer.

A tiny step in his direction, too shy for your eyes to meet. But your forehead leaned in, resting on his shoulder, letting the weight of whatever was on your mind sink into him too.

Suguru tentatively brought his arms around your back, slowly, careful not to startle you. But you let him. Leaned further into him, accepted the embrace and even brought your own arms around him.

Your face was squished against his chest the tighter he held you, but you didn't dare move. Your breath had changed, he noticed as well, but he didn't dare move.

"I'm sorry" you said this time, voice small. Too small.

If Suguru didn't know you better, he'd think you were crying.

His hands slowly brushed your hair back, shushing you softly. Your hands gripped his shirt so tight they threatened to tear at the fabric, and with your strength, he knew you could easily do it.

Here, on this cold moonlit street, you finally let him in a little. Allowed him to see some of the pain you carried, despite not being able to voice it.

To Suguru, it was enough.

He would have held you like this forever, were it not for the police sirens bringing in the reminder of your brutal reality.

"We should go" you murmured, and your voice was cold as ice again.

 "Maybe we should go somewhere else" you suggested one night.

You were sprawled over the long sofa, completely naked, your arms stretched over your head where they began to hurt. Holding still wasn't exactly your forte.

Suguru lowered his pencil with a long exhale, looking at you with tired eyes. "You're distracting me, sweetheart" he chided.

You pouted, snapping back into position as he started drawing again with a grateful sigh. Over the years, Suguru had drawn you a million times, in every position imaginable – clothed, naked, happy, sad. All of those now hung proudly on the walls, every inch covered with images of you and times you had spent together.

You thought it was a lovely thing when it first started.

Now you were starting to get bored of it.

The years had passed but you didn't exactly change, did you?

Still, seeing how he focused to get every detail of your complexion right, every little line and crevice and perceived imperfection – it made it worth it again.

Sometimes you wished you could see yourself through Suguru's eyes.

What would it be like to love yourself in that way?

"Suguru" you called. His eyes left the page again, squinting at you, but he seemed to notice something was wrong from the way you called his name alone.

He placed his pencil down fully this time. "What is it?" he asked.

"Do you ever wish things were different?"

The words left your lips before you could really think about them. You saw his desire to come to you straight away, but Suguru wasn't one for unnecessary bursts of passion. No, he always though about what he said. Especially because any wrong move might risk losing you.

"I used to" he admitted, answering your question as truthfully as he could. He also didn't care for going into the long years he had spent alone and miserable, something you surely could understand.

"What changed?" you asked, pushing yourself to a more comfortable position.

"Well" he huffed out, a little shy. "I met you"

You blinked at him, feeling your cheeks warm. "Was that a good thing?" you huffed out self-deprecatingly, but his resolve continued.

"It was the best thing" he confessed.

There hadn't been many love confessions between you two through out the years.

Suguru would have told you a million times over, but he realised soon enough he shouldn't. It's not that it wasn't there, on the contrary – it's that acknowledging it was there would make it too real. Too breakable. Too easy to lose.

Love wasn't meant for creatures like the two of you.

"You mean that?" you asked, and Suguru calmly put his paper down, motioning you for come towards him.

You did, waltzing in his direction with no shame at the lack of clothes – he had seen you like that enough times already. When you finally approached, he opened his thick thighs for you to sit on, a hand already to your waist.

You fit so perfectly on his lap, felt so safe next to him like this. Your leaned your weight on him, resting your head on his as his thumb traced absentminded circles on your lower back.

"Look" he said, picking up the paper again. "Look at how beautiful you are"

Your eyes traveled to the picture, eyeing the person you had seen on paper multiple times but could not relate to in any form anymore.

"It's still the same" you murmured, the words cutting your insides like daggers. This curse had robbed you of ever seeing your face again, robbed you of the natural wonders of old age, of maturity, a body that reflected your soul.

You should have been old now. Hell, you should have been dead.

"It is" Suguru agreed, but he was smiling. His eyes darted all over the page, taking in the perceived beauty of the woman you didn't recognise. Your hands. Your curves. Your mother's eyes. All made beautiful under his pencil, but foreign. Distant. "Isn't that a good thing?"

You tensed immediately on top of him. "How is it a good thing?" you spat. "It's unnatural"

He turned to you immediately, his hand dropping the page and cupping your cheek instead. "Where is this coming from?" he asked, gentle, sweet like honey.

"I don't relate to it at all" you protested. "She's beautiful, yes, but I'm… it's not me"

"What do you mean?" he asked, brows furrowing close. One of his hands tightened around your waist, hoping to keep you close, while the other brushed gently just under your temple.

"I'm not beautiful. I'm a predator, I'm cursed" you kept repeating, your words getting more and more sharp despite how kindly he held you.

"You're not cursed" he argued, bringing your head to the crook of his neck. Despite all the fight in you, you let him.

"I am" you cried.

Suguru felt the cold little drops that escaped your eyes fall on his skin, just under where the bite marks that originally made him this way were. He held you tight, hoping it would be enough.

"You're not cursed" he repeated, kindly. "You're everything"

Suguru couldn't bear seeing the person who had made his existence bearable speak so low of herself. You were the one who made him see this as more – as a gift, even.

But you didn't see it that way.

And the way your breathing suddenly stopped and you pulled away made that very clear.

"Don't pretend you don't think I'm a monster" you growled, before pushing yourself off him completely. "I see the way you look at me"

"The way I looked at you?" he echoed, confused. Surely he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, because you were.

You were fully standing now, towering over him in your nakedness. Suguru could never not find you beautiful, but right now you reminded him of the power you truly held.

"Righteous Suguru, always feeling bad for his prey" you mocked, starting to wander around the room just to do something. "And horrible me, enjoying having my stomach filled"

"I never said that–"

"You don't have to" you scoffed. "You can't even bear to look at me"

How could you think that of him?

Hearing those words come out of your lips was unbearable. It was wrong.

"I don't like killing, it's true" he tried to reason. "But–"

"You call it killing" you interrupted. "We're feeding"

"It doesn't change the fact these people were–"

"We would be dead too if we didn't" your voice was rising louder and louder, a debate of morals Suguru never wanted to have with you. "Would you prefer that?"

"No, of course not" Suguru said too quick, coming closer to you. But you just kept going, voice rising higher and higher.

"Should we just walk into the sun to protect your conscience?" you mocked again, but the words got stuck in your throat, scratchy. They were meant to hurt, meant to challenge – but there was something far too real about the words you were saying. Like this was the only way you managed to actually utter them out loud.

Suguru understood that too.

"Don't say that" he pleaded with you. Not angry, not confrontational. Just… scared.

His sudden change made you stop pacing.

"You don't even look at me" you rasped out to the floor, like he wasn't even meant to hear it.

"I'm looking at you now" he tried.

But you just shook your head.

"If you can't accept all of me, what good does it do?" you murmured.

"But it's not you" he tried to reason. "If we weren't like this, you wouldn't choose to kill anyone, I'm sure, and–"

"You don't know what my life was like" you spat.

And it's true. He didn't.

"Because you never told me" he exhaled, unable to hide how much that fact hurt him.

How much longer would he have to wait for you to let him in? Were decades not enough?

"You have no right to know" you repeated what you had said many times already.

"I don't understand" it was his turn to lose his composure a little, that wound growing larger and larger now that the two of you were acknowledging it. "I would never think less of you"

"You already think less of me" you hissed, squaring up to him again.

Beautiful, and naked, but not vulnerable. You were strong like this, the way you made the energy shift in a room showing him how much power you had, no doubt accumulated by the amount of years you had spent as a vampire already.

But that was also speculation. Suguru didn't even know that.

"I don't" he said too quick, putting his hands up. "And I'm sorry, just don't…"

He was the one who trailed off this time, struggling with the words.

"Don't what?" you asked, the words biting into the space.

"Don't leave" he finally said.

You seemed… surprised.

Surely after all this time, it wouldn't be surprising.

But what were years for a vampire, after all? For all he knew, you saw him as no more than a chapter in the long novel of your life. Worst than that, he almost expected that to be the case. And Suguru was terrified of it.

"Why?" you asked.

Suguru noticed it was him who was crying this time, but his lips still formed a shy smile. "Because I love you"

Saying it felt easy than he had anticipated, the words he was so scared to utter just rolling off his tongue, sounding just right. But your red eyes grew wider than they ever had, your feet stumbling back like the words cut instead of soothe.

"You–" you almost tried to repeat them, but you couldn't.

Suguru stood there, unmoving, now that he had finally said it. He wouldn't walk back on them, not when it was the truth.

"I love you" he repeated.

Again, you flinched like you had been hurt. But you stopped moving back, just standing across from him in the middle of the room, chest heaving up and down, up and down.

"No one has ever said that to me"

Your voice was too small for how angry you were just a moment ago.

Suguru's hands balled into fists as he tried to control the urge to run to you. Pull you into his arms, hold you close with a gentleness you should have known centuries ago.

You looked like a cornered animal in the middle of the room, completely frozen. Your eyes were crying again, though you made no mention to dry them. The corner of your lips threatened to move, but to a frown or a smile, he didn't know. You didn't seem to know either.

But your eyes stayed lock on his unwavering, decided ones.

Suguru would stand here, unmoving, for another decade if it meant you trusted him because of it.

"How do you know?" you finally said, bringing a hand to wipe under your eyes.

He tried a step towards you then. "Because just looking at you makes me forget all the bad things that ever happened to me" he said. When you didn't flinch, he stepped forwards again. "Because your laugh is my favourite sound in the world"

You almost moved closer, a barely there shift of your weight forwards. He continued.

"Because laying in our small coffin together doesn't feel claustrophobic, it feels…safe" he almost laughed at himself, the ridiculousness of this vampiric love confession.

Maybe love wasn't meant for creatures like you, but he had found it anyway. And that was a miracle in and of itself.

"You make me feel like this life isn't just worth living, but worth sharing" he completed, standing right in front of you now. Your bottom lip bobbed a little where you struggled to contain your tears, but when his hand reached forwards to cup your cheek, you didn't stop him.

"And I don't see you as a monster" he whispered, thumb dragging along your skin to catch the tears. "Seeing you enjoy killing, it just… makes me wonder why"

Your breathing hitched at that, but you still did not move.

The two of you stood so close, your bodies bathing in the moonlight. It was getting late, and it would be dawn soon – but neither of you seemed to be thinking about that right now.

"I think…" you started, struggling with the words. "I think I might love you too"

Suguru didn't think he even remembered what it was like to feel this happy.

His fox like eyes went wide, his mouth hung open – his turn at surprise. For so long he was so worried you'd get bored of him, that maybe you were too wild a creature to choose this domestic eternity.

Even in his wildest dreams, he never dared to imagine you felt it too.

"Can you say that again?"

You smiled, bringing your hands to cup his face too. "I love you"

Suguru slammed his lips on yours, pulling you in for a desperate kiss that you both completely melted into.

This was what pure bliss felt like.

You loved him.

You loved each other.

Even following all your sins and your ungodly existence, he had found it. He had actually fucking found it. The two of you had just gone against all odds and conquered fate.

"I love you" he kept saying, while his pointed teeth grazed your bottom lip, while your hands held tight to his face, and your mouth's refused to part.

"I love you too" you echoed back, crying, and crying, and crying.

Suguru couldn't stop smiling – and you couldn't stop your tears.

Hadn't he been so absorbed in this miracle then, he might have guessed what happened next.

 You weren't there when he woke the next nightfall.

Suguru had grown used to your weight on top of his in the tight space, but he felt none of that when he started to blink his eyes awake. He called your name immediately, lifting the lid of the coffin with a loud creak, asking the void if you were there.

There was no response.

How could he have slept if you were not there? He would have surely woken up if you decided to leave before he did. Was he this lost in his own fantasy coming true? Had he slept too well?

The night was still young, you surely couldn't had gone far if you had just left when the sun went down.

Or… did you leave before that entirely?

Suguru's blood immediately ran cold. You wouldn't leave in the sunlight.

You wouldn't.

You knew what that could mean.

He paced the apartment with so much force his feet made the floor boards sink, but he was desperate. He had to find at least some hint, some clue of where you had gone, why you had gone.

Finally, he noticed something that wasn't meant to be there.

A different portrait sitting on the table, matching the walls full of you that decorated the space. But this one was of him – his long dark hair tied into a knot at the back of his head, his eyes looking far ahead, staring at something off the page.

He didn't remember posing for this, so it must have been made from memory.

Despite the years Suguru had spent teaching you to draw, you never seemed quite able to take it. You lacked the patience, you said. But this was a skillful drawing, no doubt something that would take long to master. Had you been working on it in secret for all this time?

What else did he not notice about you?

Suguru flipped the page around, finding the three words he had been so happy to hear the night before hastily scribbled on the back.

I love you

His response was immediate; Suguru's fist bunched up the drawing, and slammed it back on the table before he could damage it completely. It was a gift from you, he should love it. But where the hell were you?

If you loved him – why would you leave?

Because… you had, hadn't you? And all he had left of you was a portrait of himself and hundreds of images on the walls that now seemed to mock him.

He called your name once more, more pained this time. Maybe this was all a mistake, maybe he was just scared… but how did he feel it so deep in his soul, this truth he had spent years trying to deny?

Suguru's red eyes scanned the empty space, hoping for a sign of you, desperately praying to whoever was out there to listen.

But there was only the void again.

All those fears and assumptions he always had proving themselves true.

The worst thing for a vampire was to be alone. But there was also safety in that, wasn't there?

To love and loose was so much worse.

So, so much worse.

His knees gave out before his brain could keep him standing, loudly crashing onto the floor as every memory of you started storming his brain. He had kissed you on this floor many times, had made love to you right there on the first night you met.

Now it wasn't the sweat of your bodies and the blood you shared staining the wood, but his own desperate tears, falling in a cascade of grief he didn't think himself capable of feeling.

In feeling so much pain, Suguru wished desperately for that void again. To just feel nothing. Nothing was so much better than this.

But nothing wasn't an option anymore – you had made his life full only to tip it over the edge, letting it all spill into a wet mess similar to the one he was making on the floor.

Your name escaped his lips when he lowered his forehead down to the ground, his hands balling into fists next to his dark hair, coming loose all around his handsome features. How dare you give him life back, only to take it away again.

He slammed his fist against the floorboards, so loud the pictures of you rattled on the wall. There were so many – portraits that span years but the subject remained the same, remained beautiful, perfect.

How could you hate that? Suguru loved having you immortalised not just on paper, but in life itself.

It was a gift.

You were the one that made him see it that way.

Why had you changed your mind?

Why couldn't things just stay the same?

Forever.

You had made forever sound so nice.

Another fist hit the wood, his knuckles beginning to split. His skin would heal, but the depth of his mistake never would.

What a fool he was for confessing his love to you. Suguru knew what that would mean, how much it would frighten you – he knew, and still did it anyway.

Idiot.

Suguru couldn't bring himself to throw the next punch, choosing to curl inwards instead, into himself, away from everything else.

He shouldn't have said anything.

What a stupid fucking mistake.

Maybe all of this.

All of it was a mistake.

He couldn't outrun fate, after all.

But pretending sure felt nice.

Suguru finally pushed himself up, making a point to look at every image that decorated the walls. He remembered each one, what the conversation had been about, what you had been doing earlier in the night before he decided the moment was too precious not to capture.

Suguru found himself looking for a specific one, though – that first one. The one that had gained him your trust, your love.

He could have sworn it was still inside his sketchbook.

He turned page after page after page, growing increasingly annoyed that he couldn't find it. Despair turning into anger, looking for any form of release it could find. Until he finally noticed a tear at the corner of the page, right where it should have been.

Had you taken it with you?

His breathing stopped, swollen eyes focusing on the careful way the page had been torn from his book, his finger grazing along it with the devotion he would caress your skin.

In the many years you spent together, you had never once mentioned the image – not after that first night.

Did it mean as much to you as it meant for him?

Suguru's hands closed around the notebook, shutting it tight and bringing it to his chest. It was at least one more proof that you didn't lie when expressing your love for him. That maybe leaving was as hard for you as it was for him.

And among the pain in his chest where his heart should have been beating, Suguru understood.

Being alone was far less scary than love.

What he saw as an act of cowardice, maybe you saw as an act of kindness. Choosing you'd rather be alone than to face the end of this love you didn't think you deserved, his hatred you saw as inevitable.

So you left. Your version of compassion, learnt from a world who had never showed you that in the first place.

You wanted him to hate you, didn't you?

He couldn't do that.

This would be his last act of rebellion against this evil world that had made you this way.

This cursed fate he didn't seem able to escape.

Suguru would love you still.

And he would find you.

 Time was a blessing as well as a curse. Suguru had an infinite amount – but each strike of the clock dragged longer than it had before, every coming dawn seemed to linger, every passing season reminding him of what he had lost.

The winter you left eventually turned into summer, longer days meaning shorter nights – less opportunities to look for you.

But Suguru didn't give up hope.

He wandered the streets for as long as he could, every single night, just hoping for your scent. He visited places you had gone to together, wishing he'd find you on the park bench near the churchyard, or the cemetery behind it, among the bones of people who had found peace in death, unlike the two of you.

Suguru even visited your known hunting spots, the seedy alleyways just out of town that tended to harbor criminals and people who wouldn't be missed by society. It was a suggestion Suguru had made, and that you had agreed to. It made what you had to do more bearable, but he still hated every second.

When he finally reached the location, you weren't there. Suguru had hoped to at least hear rumours and whispers about recent kills around this spot, some urban legend beginning to grow that he could tie back to you; but still… nothing.

Had you gone back to preying on whoever you could put your hands on? Was his odd moral compass another thing you resented him for?

"You seem lost, boy" a voice came from right behind him, distinctively not yours. The sharp metal sound of a blade came along with it, as Suguru heard the footsteps approaching – slowly, deliberately.

This man clearly had the wrong idea of who prey and predator were.

Suguru took a sharp inhale in, hating this man for interrupting his search. He turned around, slowly, the reds of his eyes making the man come to a halt a mere feet away.

"You sick or something?" the man scoffed, clearly intrigued by his appearance.

Suguru just stood there. His hands had balled into fists as he inhaled he man's scent. He was hungry, so hungry, and hated the way he looked down at him. Had you been here, you would undoubtedly already have a twisted smile on your face, excited to gorge on the stranger's blood.

"That's a nice coat you've got there" the man mocked, making the knife visible now. It glistened where it caught the light, making sure Suguru could see it too.

A pathetic threat, Suguru rolled his eyes internally.

This man sure had chosen the wrong time for this, because Suguru's blood was already running cold with anger. And he caught himself thinking, just for a moment… that he would enjoy this kill.

No.

This was a line he didn't want to cross.

"You deaf or just stupid?" the man laughed this time, closing the distance.

Another breath in, slowly while the man approached. It didn't matter how hungry, angry, lost Suguru was – he couldn't bring himself to enjoy feeding, would never forgive himself if he lost this last shred of humanity he still was proud of. He couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't–

But when the man brought the knife to his throat, it was too easy.

Suguru turned around in the blink of an eye, taking his fangs to the tall man's neck as his body effortlessly pinned him down, bringing the two down to the wet pavement in the process.

Blood, tears and sweat spilled everywhere, while Suguru enjoyed the way the much bigger man thrashed beneath him, helpless.

Is this what you wanted all along? For him to be just like you?

It wasn't merciful, and it wasn't clean. This was rage personified, but in the moment he swallowed the sweet taste, Suguru didn't care.

It wouldn't be the last of his kills like this.

In fact, there would be many, many more throughout the years.

He hated himself for it every single time after, sometimes crying next to the limp body he had just ravished, sometimes throwing it all up again. Suguru felt shame at his lack of control, at this blinding rage that made him the monster he tried so hard not to be.

It took him years before he finally decided he couldn't do it anymore.

You had spoken about wanting to leave this pathetic town before, and maybe it was time for him to accept you probably had.

That after a decade of this, you wouldn't be showing up at your shared home anymore.

The place had been cold since you left, but in every sense it still remained the same. The furniture hadn't been moved, the curtains were still the same though faded and full of spider webs now. And, most importantly – your face still adorned the walls.

Suguru knew you probably had left town entirely, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave this.

The home you two had made, in spite of everything.

Did you still remember? Or did you try not to?

Did you hold on to that first drawing and cry, like he did? Reminisce about the good times and the worst times, miss his touch and the way you held each other in that tight coffin?

In the years that passed, Suguru even tried to hate you. Tried to give you what you wanted.

But he just couldn't.

What he hated was how much he regretted confessing his love, the single greatest mistake of his existence. Was hearing those three words leave your lips worth the years of solitude that would come after?

Maybe.

His long fingers ghosted over your face in one of the drawings – one in which you had a rare, easy smile. Had you found someone else who would paint you like he did?

Suguru knew he was only tormenting himself at this point; it was no use lingering on the thought. If he knew you as well as he thought he did, then he was sure you hadn't just found another person to give your heart to.

He believed what you said that night.

You didn't leave because you didn't love him, you left because you loved him too much. Suguru would have to find some comfort in that.

 Seeing the world change was a miracle, one thing that did console him. The streets changed just as often as the seasons did now, every day bringing new inventions and curious new ideas Suguru enjoyed learning about.

He found himself sitting by the park more and more often now, drawing the outline of new buildings that began construction far ahead. The future seemed to look brighter than anyone could have hoped for.

But despite the obvious changes to the outside, his inside world remained the same. In the end, he couldn't bring himself to leave.

He had found some peace in the fact that you could find him there, if you wanted. And it didn't matter if it took another decade, or half a century or more – Suguru would stay right here, waiting.

His fingers dragged the chalk over the page, marking the coming of a new age.

When you returned, he'd show it to you. He documented every little thing about this town just so he could share it, and he was hopeful the time would come.

Can you believe they were building shops in the alleys you used to hunt? And how the church had been rebuilt, much larger, after the fire five years prior?

Life changed all around – beautifully so, tragically so too.

But the seasons always came. Winter, then summer again, and just like he could trust in that, he trusted what would come after too. It was a better position to be in than the desperate animal he had become for a few years.

But he would have never wanted you to see him like that, and so, he changed. He–

Suguru's hands dropped the drawing suddenly, his spine going rigid in the blink of an eye.

That smell. He knew that smell.

He inhaled deeply again, shutting his eyes tight, focusing on it.

It couldn't be.

The scent he had almost feared he had forgotten.

Your name escaped his lips in a sound much smaller than he expected, which turned into a desperate cry as Suguru began to turn around, searching for any glimpse of you.

The scent was present, but it was still far away – he had to follow it. Fast.

The picture he was working so precisely on got scrunched up when he rushed to pick up his belongings, shoving it all in his pockets as he began to ran.

Probably wasn't the best to bring attention to himself like this, but Suguru couldn't stop.

He kept moving, letting his senses guide him as he rushed past the night owls and confused strangers. Turning a corner here, going through someone's garden there – he feared he lost it completely when the smell almost faded at the edge of the city, but he turned around again.

Where could you possibly be going? Were you looking for your regular hunting grounds of almost a century past?

Things were different now, didn't you know?

But no, it wasn't that – the smell faded again, and so he followed it back to the main road, finding it again.

It grew stronger and stronger with each step, until it led to the last place he expected.

Home.

It was undeniably strong, so much so his nerve endings were staring to prickle, like they only did when another one of him was around. Suguru rushed up the steps, jumping two at a time, throwing the door open, and–

There you were.

Was it a dream? Or had death finally come for him?

You looked exactly the same. Standing there, staring at the wall of your face with a much smaller paper held tight to your chest.

Suguru remained completely frozen, struggling to catch his breath. When you turned to him, he noticed you had tears in your eyes.

"You kept them?" you whispered, your beautiful bottom lip trembling slightly. The first words he had heard from you in years, and they were a question you obviously should have expected the answer to.

Suguru finally took a step inside, closing the door behind him. He couldn't bring himself to meet you there, even though everything in him wanted to pick you up and wipe your tears and kiss you everywhere.

"Of course I did" was all he managed to reply, but it only made you cry harder.

You brought a hand to dry your face, and Suguru desperately wished you'd just let him. But he was so terrified of making the wrong move again.

"I'm sorry–"

That he couldn't bear to hear.

Against better judgment, Suguru rushed forwards, towards you, needing to touch you to confirm you were real. His body found yours with too much strength, but you completely gave in to it, closing your arms around his shoulders when he closed his over your waist.

You were here again.

Your feet left the floor when he raised you to his level, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as you did the same, both letting the tears flow unabashedly. Your legs came to lock around his waist, pulling him into you completely, the one thing Suguru wanted most in the whole world.

"You came back" he cried into your hair.

"I needed to see it again" you replied, his clothes bunching up in your fists.

"See what?" Suguru asked, pulling back just a little. His nose brushed against yours, so close he could just kiss you, but he wanted to hear your voice even more than that.

"Home" you replied, looking him right in his red eyes. "I didn't think you'd be here"

His eyes held you tighter, his forehead pressing against your. "Where else would I go?"

"Anywhere that didn't remind you of me" you tried a small self deprecating laugh, but Suguru shook his head, forehead rolling against yours.

"I've been waiting for you this whole time"

You cried, cupping his face with both hands. "Don't lie to me, Suguru Geto" you pouted.

"I have never lied to you" he replied.

It was the truth.

It was you that closed the distance this time, urging his face forwards as you leaned in for a kiss. It wasn't desperate like he had imagined, no, it was gentle. Feather light, almost. Far too small for something that was so huge, but also exactly what you needed.

It lasted for the blink of an eye and for an eternity – just a moment in time where everything was just right again.

"I'm sorry I left" you whispered, breaking the kiss and placing your forehead back on his. "I'm sorry I got scared"

"I know" he kissed your cheek, smoothing your hair back. "It's ok"

"It's not" you lowered yourself down, sinking into his chest this time.

"Shh" he kept smoothing down your hair, holding you tight against him, right where his heart should be beating. Getting used to your scent again was salvation for him, but there was also something different about you, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, tilting your chin towards him. You nodded your head up and down, some sort of shame deep within your eyes. "We still have some time before dawn, if you want to–"

"I don't hunt anymore" you replied, looking down. "Not people"

Suguru's eyebrows knit together, pulling you up to look at him again. "What do you mean?"

To his surprise, you cried. And just kept crying. Harder than he had ever seen.

"I guess I realised–" you tried to say between hiccups. "Maybe someone loves them too"

Suguru's mouth hung open, in complete surprise. You coming back was something he had hoped for and convinced himself to believe in, but this? This he could have never fathomed.

"You–" he didn't even know what to say, choosing to crouch down in front of you instead and pull you down with him, giving your legs some rest so maybe they'd stop shaking.

"I'm sorry, Suguru" you cried, throwing yourself at him. "I'll tell you why, I'll tell you what happened, I'll tell you everything, just please– please, forgive me"

Suguru stood sentinel while you sobbed, holding you tight. Didn't you know? He had never blamed you for it.

He understood your pain far too well for it.

"I would be glad to listen" he said into your hair, arms closed around your back. "If you want to tell me"

You nodded your head, clawing at his back like he was your salvation.

For a very long time, Suguru could only speculate on what had happened to make you the way you were. But right now, he found his curiosity was the last thing on his mind.

"Here" he said, pulling an arm from you to bring it to his fangs. The blood started dripping from it, as you watched from below while he did for you what you had done for him that first night you met. "You should eat first"

You smiled at his generosity, but brought yourself up again to better match his height. You cupped his cheeks again, leaning in for another kiss, realising there was still something much more important you wanted to say and hear.

"I love you, Suguru"

"I love you too" he kissed you back.

In time, Suguru would show you his sketches depicting how this town had changed, his little documentations of every day life he had hoped to share with you. He would listen to every single thing you wanted to tell him, he'd hold you close when it was too hard to say, and he'd shush you kindly whenever you tried to force words you weren't ready for just yet.

There was so much still to be said, and time was, of course, a luxury you both had.

But right now… in this moonlit night in the apartment you had made a home of so many years ago, the silence was just enough.

A/N oof this one really took a long time to write. I started writing this when I was in a very bad place, and found it very therapeutic to just blurt it out on the page – it unfortunately also meant it was extremely hard to go back to it when I started feeling better (which I am!). there's so much of me in both these characters so it makes me a little nervous to post but maybe you relate as well, and if that's the case I'd like you to know you're not alone! hope you all have the most wonderful day or night and thank you for reading my story <3

Your eyes roll back down.

“Mhm.”

"And it was such a good question.”

You turn a page. "Really?”

“Yup.” He’s draped over the corner of your desk now, like gravity has wronged him, whining. “It was such a thoughtful… personal… deeply relevant… extremely genius level getting-to-know-you tier question that—”

You scowl. "—Satoru, enough. Just do your job."

It lands harder than expected. The sigh he lets out is deeply, theatrically offended. And when you glance up again, he’s sprawled over that same corner of your desk you made the mistake of clearing for him on day one because you’d thought, foolishly, that giving him a designated surface might contain him.

It had not.

Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.

Snowy white hair falls against his brow, sleeves rolled to his elbows; looking far too expensive and far too comfortable for someone whose official title is intern. His coffee is sweating beside your open planner — the one with a date next week circled in red: WEDDING, scrawled across the margin in your own handwriting. The condensation trails towards a stack of vendor invoices and—

…

Wait.

Are those the same vendor invoices you asked him to file yesterday?

Fucking great.

“Oh, c’monnn,” he grumbles, blinking at you over the rim of those absurdly expensive sunglasses he insists on wearing indoors. “One question. Just a tiiiiny one. It’s completely harmless. Humor me, yeah?”

You narrow your eyes.

“Satoru, you’ve been trying to ask one question for the last four months.”

“Yeah,” he says. “And you’ve been dodging it for four months. Imagine that.”

Technically… four months and four days. But who’s counting?

With an exhausted groan, your eyes fall shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. Noise drifts in from the hall — the elevator, the printer, a phone trilling somewhere nearby.  But when you look up again, it all seems to fall away.

He’s gone strangely still. The smug grin hasn’t disappeared, but it’s softened at the edges, hooked at one corner with his head tilted slightly. And those eyes…

Oh.

That’s — no. You’ve seen his eyes before. Obviously. Four months of them. But right now, with the morning light doing something cruel and unhelpful behind him, they catch in a way that makes you forget you were mid-thought. The kind of blue that doesn’t ask if you’re looking. It already knows.

Which means of course, you look away first. “Fine.” Your hand drops as you mutter. “One question. But if it’s stupid, I’m sending you back to HR.”

It’s not much of a threat. It’s his last day, after all, and for reasons you still don’t fully understand, Satoru has always seemed oddly immune to consequences — which, frankly, feels statistically improbable given the amount of shit he’s managed to pull in the few months of being here.

“One question?” his grin sharpens. You point your pen at him. “Don’t make me regret this.” Yet his pleased chuckle is already making you. “Awhh… look at you. Finally yielding.” His pen twirls between his fingers, nodding with false solemnity. “Okay. So, here’s the thing… throughout these four months working beside you, I’ve seen a lot—"

“—that’s not a question.” You deadpan.

But ignoring you, he reclines back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head.

“Liiiike… I’ve seen the exact face you make when Mei-Mei emails you,” he smirks. “Even noticed you work through lunch more than you should. And I’ve noticed that little line right here—” he gestures vaguely between his own brows “—every time the budget goes sideways.”

Lips parting, you blink.

…why is he so observant?!

For someone who acts like he doesn’t give a shit, he’s strangely attentive.

You clear your throat, huffing. “Okay… what’s your point?” Your hands straighten a stack of papers that doesn’t need straightening. “Is there a question in here somewhere, or are you just reciting my habits back to me for fun?”

His grin is far too pleased. “Relax. I’m getting there.” And leaning forward, his voice drops, like he’s unraveling a conspiracy. “I just find it interesting how you answer work calls before the second ring. Every damn day. Doesn’t matter who it is.” His head tilts with a smug grin. “But for whatever reason, for the past month, your personal phone’s been ringing off the hook, and you never pick up. Not once.”

Heat creeps up your neck. Not because he’s wrong — but because he’s right. And he said it like it was nothing. Like noticing the pattern of your avoidance was just something that happened to him between stamps.

Oh.

Way too observant.

Shit. He couldn't have settled on what's your favorite color!? Or, what superpower would you have!? No. Of course he had to go for the fucking jugular.

His eyes drop to the planner lying open beneath the invoices. The circled date: WEDDING. And his grin sharpens. “Ohoho… I get it now,” he whistles, leaning back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “What’d your fiancé do to screw up this bad? Is the wedding off?”

Your head jerks up. “F-Fiancé?!” And he rolls his eyes with a scoff, still grinning. “Knew it. God, he must be really in the doghouse. Or maybe he’s just clingy as hell to be calling that much.”

You blink.

Okay. Nevermind. He’s wrong. That is not even remotely what’s happening. The most committed relationship you’ve had is the one with your coffee machine. And yet… part of it feels almost cosmically cruel.

Because somehow, this is the second time in a month that someone had looked at the scattered pieces of your life and decided a man must be hiding inside them. Except the first time, you never even got the chance to correct it.

After all… how do you tell your mother she’s wrong?

Last month, you still answered her phone calls.

Not because you expected anything different. But because somewhere between the second ring and the third, there’s this gap — this stupid, paper-thin gap — where you still believe she might ask how you’re doing and actually wait for the answer.

Some habits taste like smoke. Some burn like liquor. But yours, unfortunately, had always looked a lot like hope.

Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.

“Oh—uh, hi mom!”

Your phone was wedged between your ear and shoulder while you stepped out of your car, juggling your purse and what was left of your sanity. You were already behind schedule, and your mother was calling — which meant the day had already made its intentions very clear.

“What’s up?” the door slammed shut with your hip. “I’m actually about to—”

“—Trish sent the venue photos,” she blurted, launching into a conversation like always.

Blinking, you shook the bitterness away. Striding toward the towering glass of Gojo Corporation. “That’s—yeah, that’s great,” you muttered, badge in hand as you pushed through the front doors. “But I’m actually heading into work right now? So—”

“—It’s such a beautiful venue,” she ignored you. “Very traditional, very grand. But you know the Zenin family—they never do anything small.” And as she sighed in awe, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

The rational part of your brain told you to let this go to voicemail. But the rational part of your brain has never once won this fight. Because…

Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.

"Mom, I'm sure it's lovely, really… but I'm kind of—um, excuse me…" you pivoted around a man in the bustling lobby with a sigh. “Sorry. I’m literally walking into the building right now? But maybe we can revisit this later and—"

"—have you booked your flight yet?"

Your mouth flattened.

Clearly, your half of this conversation is optional.

“No… not yet,” you mumbled, as patiently as you could manage, jabbing the up button harder than necessary. “It’s been a crazy ass week so I haven’t had a chance to, but—”

“—every week is a crazy week for you.” The huff she let out sounded almost offended by the inconvenience of your life. “Why can’t you just book it now while we’re talking? I mean, it literally takes five minutes.”

A miracle, really, that your blood pressure isn’t a medical emergency.

Every week is a crazy week?

Yeah. No shit.

Two managers resigned last quarter. Another got escorted out by security. And their work didn’t disappear. No. It landed on your desk. Because that’s how it goes. That’s how it’s always gone. Group projects. Internships. End-of-quarter disasters no one else wanted to touch. If something needed fixing, it found its way to you.

You’re the one people relied on.

Just… never the one people chose.

“Mother. I’m at work,” you said, stepping into the elevator as the doors slid open, dropping your voice as you stabbed at floor fifteen. “Look—I’m about to walk into an eight a.m. meeting. But I’ll book it tonight, promise.”

“…eight a.m.?” she repeated slowly, before letting out a small, unbothered laugh. “Oh! Right. It’s eight p.m. here. Silly me. I keep forgetting.”

…

Keep forgetting?

She keeps forgetting that she’s ten thousand miles away? Forgetting that twenty years ago she abandoned you in another country to live abroad in Japan—handing you to your grandparents like a detail she'd get back to later?

How convenient that she forgot that.

The elevator slid shut, and you watched the numbers tick upward. “Um. Yeah…” you managed, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. “Anyways. I’ll book it tonight. After work. Okay?”

"Okay, okay. Sure. Sounds good. But are you bringing anyone?”

Squeezing the strap of your bag, you swallowed the lump in your throat. This again? The last thing you needed was to walk into your shitty eight a.m. meeting looking emotional.

No thanks.

“I… uh…” you cleared your throat. “I um—actually—haven’t decided yet. But anyways, I gotta go, so—”

“Waitwatiwait. Haven’t decided? Does that mean… you actually found someone?!”

Her voice pitched up so fast it almost startled you, and your mouth dropped so low it could’ve hit floor one.

Shit.

“I-I—I didn’t say—"

“—oh, thank God. This is incredible!!” she squealed. “We’ve been so worried. I mean—Trish is younger than you and she figured it out,” her tongue clicked. “People have been asking questions, you know. Your aunt Sara keeps bringing it up every time I see her and—”

“—Mom, I—"

“—It’s about time,” The laugh she let out was relieved, like a problem in her life had finally begun resolving itself. “You can’t keep putting love on hold forever, because men aren’t going to wait around forever. You’re already twenty-six—not getting any younger, dear.”

Love?!

Who has time for that?

And why the fuck is twenty-six the age a woman expires?!

“What’s his name?” she pressed, practically beaming through the phone. “What does he do? Is he from there, or—oh, is he Japanese? Your father would love that, he always said—”

And she was off.

Spinning an entire man out of thin air. An entire future, really. Building him in real time from a tiny slip up you had because you were too tired and cornered and desperate enough to answer the phone in the first place. And you stood there, letting her. Because interrupting her has never once worked in the history of your life.

“—actually, never mind,” she chirped a moment later, as if she was being considerate now. “You have work. I’ll call tomorrow and you can tell me everything, yes? Okay, bye-bye honey—”

Click!

And just like that, the elevator went quiet. You were left staring at your reflection in the metal doors, phone pressed to your ear, listening to the silence where your mother’s voice had been.

‘We’ve been so worried.’

…

If they were so worried… why had you spent most of your life learning to take care of yourself? And yet, the second there might be a man, suddenly you’re worth getting excited about?

Funny how that works.

Scoffing, you lowered the phone, shoving it into your bag just as the elevator chimed open. Itadori Yuji’s head snapped up behind the reception desk.

“Morning, boss,” he waved, radiating sunshine as you walked towards the conference room. “Kento’s asking if you’re still good for the budget review at eight… or if I should just tell him to panic.”

Your smile softened, burying the sting. “Yes… I’ll be right there.” And as you stepped through the polished glass doors, you played the role you’d always played.

The reliable one. Twenty-six years old, with two master’s degrees, a career at one of the most competitive corporations in the world, and a team of seven that would quietly fall apart without you.

But…

None of that glitters quite like a diamond ring, does it?

“Oi,” Satoru frowns. “You’re makin’ that face again.”

“Huh?”

Blinking out of your spiral, your eyes trace back to the man across from you. His chin is resting in his palm, those impossibly blue eyes fixed on you with a quiet stillness that makes something in your chest trip over itself — like a lock turning in a door you didn’t know was closed.

“Oh.” You clear your throat, forcing the pen back into motion. “…what face?”

“The one you make when something’s wrong,” he says quietly, gaze unmoving. “When you’re upset and trying to act like you’re not.”

For a second — one terrible, unguarded second — you don’t have a single thing to hide behind. It’s just him, looking at you like your well-being is something he’s been keeping track of in a column you didn’t even know existed.

But then the sarcasm kicks in, right on time. "Wow," you say, forcing your hands back to the papers in front of you. "So… now you read faces?"

“Mm... nah. Just yours, sweetheart.”

And that grin — god, that fucking grin — hooks at one corner like he knows exactly what just detonated inside your chest. You don’t acknowledge it. Acknowledging things have consequences, and consequences with this man are not something you can afford.

"…that’s highly inappropriate," you mutter, shoving it down. "Let’s maybe redirect some of that insight toward the invoices, yeah?"

“Sorry, sorry.” He leans back, hands up like he’s the picture of innocence. “Wouldn’t wanna start shit with your dear future husband.” His grin goes sharp as he twirls his sunglasses between two fingers. “Though, wow. Tough look for him. Whatever he did, he clearly fucked up bad.”

Why does he sound… bitter?

No. You must be imagining it. This is Satoru. Satoru, who treats everything like a joke until proven otherwise. Satoru, who doesn’t care enough about anything to sound bitter over a man who may or may not exist.

You scoff. "You’re making some wildly stupid assumptions right now…"

He perks up at that. "Oh?" With his grin hooking higher, almost hopeful. "Wait. So, there’s no fiancé, then?"

Your lips purse.

What does he care? He’s not your mother.

“I wish you’d be this interested in your actual job,” you sigh, arms crossing. “Those invoices have been sitting there all week.”

“Uh-huh.” He tips his head. “And yet somehow, I noticed you still didn’t answer me.”

You frown.

What the fuck are you supposed to say!?

Oh. Um. Actually, Satoru, there is no fiancé. That’s the problem, actually! My mother invented him the other morning and I haven't worked up the nerve to call her back.

Yeah. No. You'd rather die at this desk.

“Maybe because it’s none of your business.”

“But I—”

“Drop it.”

He stares at you for a beat, then he flops back in the chair with a dramatic huff, long legs kicking out in front of him, mouth dragging into a sulky pout.

“Well, damn,” he grumbles, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, rolling his eyes. “No wonder you’re single if this is how you shut people down…”

The second the words leave his mouth, he blinks. His gaze flicks up to yours like he hears it too late — like he realizes, all at once, how shitty that sounded.And it only feels worse the moment he sees your face.

God.

Of all the places to hit.

“Oho… wow. Okay. This?” you say with a thin, self-deprecating laugh, chair scraping as you shove back from your seat. “Yeah. This is exactly why I shouldn’t have let you ask, Satoru.” You reach for your planner, your purse, anything to do with your hands besides let them shake.

He straightens, watching you scramble. “Whoa. Wait. I—"

“—because you don’t know when to stop!” The words come out louder than you mean, blinking at the sting behind your eyes. “You just keep pushing and pushing and pushing until you get what you want. Well good. I hope you’re happy.”

Before you can turn away, he’s on his feet. “Wait—” And the moment his hand catches yours, you freeze, breath snagging.

His voice is quieter now. His grip is firm yet gentle, and the air between you shifts, while something warm and uneasy twists low in your chest. The kind of feeling that makes you want to lean in and run in the same breath.

Though your eyes stay down. “Satoru… let go.”

“I didn’t…” he starts, then stops, gaze flicking to where his fingers still circle your wrist — before climbing back to your face, slower this time. “I’m… sorry. I just—” His mouth tightens. “I see how hard you work, okay? I see it. And every time that phone rings, you get this look on your face like it’s already ruined your day before you even touch it. And…” His brows pinch. “Fuck. I dunno why, but it pisses me off!”

Your gaze hesitantly drags to his, and the look in his eyes is softer than they have any right to be — all that blue, stripped of its usual sharpness, turned careful. Like he’s stepping toward something breakable and knows it. Like… if he asked once more, something in you might actually give.

“Satoru…” your breath hitches. “I-I—"

“Oh, finally.”

Shoko’s voice trails in, and your head snaps up so fast your neck almost goes with it. She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, coffee in hand — looking like a woman who arrived exactly on time for something she's been expecting all week.

Her gaze flicks down to where he’s holding you, and the corner of her mouth twitches.

"Sooo… not to interrupt whatever this is," she says, taking a sip, "but Kento's one eye-twitch away from a medical event. He needs you to sign off on the variance line before he starts reconciling his own will and—"

You're already jerking your hand back. "Yup—coming!" And as you step away, heat floods your face, but you don't look back. Not once. Not even when you feel him still standing there, watching you go.

Because looking back would mean acknowledging that something just shifted. And you are not — not — doing that today.

Unlike those invoices, perhaps some things are better left… unfinished.

You’re gone in a blur of heels, nerves, and professional self-preservation, leaving Shoko trailing behind and Satoru staring at the empty doorway like maybe the conversation might wander back through it.

It doesn’t.

And it’s not long before his mouth is pulling into a slow, petulant pout—just before he flops back in the chair with all the elegance of a man personally betrayed by the universe.

Un-fucking-believable.

He’d almost had you! After four months and four days of being stonewalled, redirected, and professionally shut down, you’d finally looked like you might give him something. A crack. A sliver. And then Kento had to ruin it with his stupid reconciliation sheet, his stupid earnest face, and his stupidly impeccable timing.

…

He could fire Kento.

Should he fire Kento?

As tempting as that thought is, Satoru settles for glaring at the empty doorway a second longer before dragging a hand down his face and raking it back through his hair. There’s no point. This performance will end soon. Because by this time tomorrow, he’ll be on a flight back to Tokyo. Where he can resume the slow, agonizing process of preparing to inherit a company he didn't actually give a shit about.

'Grow up, Satoru.'

'Apply yourself, Satoru.'

'You have no idea what it takes to run something like this, Satoru.'

Right. Because apparently, the heir to a multinational corporation needed to learn humility. Alphabetize files. Sit in a cubicle. Fetch coffee like some goddamn spreadsheet slut with a trust fund and nowhere to put it.

Four years of business school, two years shadowing his father; and yet, this is what they had for him?!

He scoffs. And when his gaze drops to the wreckage of your desk, he’s pulling the stack of vendor invoices toward him with a sigh that sounds put-upon even to his own ears. You’ve been nagging him about filing them for the better part of the week and… the least he can do is clear one thing before he goes.

The stamp thuds against the first page. Then the next. Then the next. And with muscle memory taking over, his face goes blank in the way it always does when boredom finally wins. It’s mindless shit. Still, he’s used to it. So naturally, when the phone on your desk buzzes, he doesn’t think twice; snatching it up, tucking it between his ear and shoulder as he reaches for the next invoice.

It’s probably another budget nuisance. Or Mei. Or one of the other thousand little crises that seem magnetically drawn to your extension.

“Yo,” another stamp echoes. “Satoru speaking.”

There’s a sharp inhale. “…who?”

His brow lifts. “Uh… Satoru?” Another thud of ink slams against the paper and he huffs, annoyed. “What do y’need?”

The line goes quiet for a beat too long. Before the woman on the other end finally murmurs, “Satoru…” Sighing in awe. “What a lovely name. Is that Japanese?”

"Uh… yeah?” he snorts, flipping to the next page. “I mean. Last I checked.”

“Mm… I thought so!” She giggles. And her voice pitches like she's just unwrapped a present she didn't know she was getting. “So… Satoru. Why exactly are you the one answering her phone, hm?”

…

Why the hell does this woman sound so invested. And why is she asking questions that should be obvious?

Frowning down at the invoice, he stamps it harder.

“Because it rang?” He says it like it’s obvious. “And uh—sorry, but. Maybe because I’ve been with her for months, so… why the hell wouldn’t I?”

"Months?!” A soft gasp crackles, far too delighted. “You've—you've been with her for months?!"

"Mmm… four months and four days, technically."

He’s been her intern for that long.

That’s the question, right?

"—technically?!" she squeals, like the word personally seduced her. "Ohmygoodness—oh, this is perfect. Four months and four days—that is so specific.”

He blinks. But she doesn’t give him time to process.

“Look at you Mr. Devoted. Keeping track. I was starting to worry she’d never find someone like you. Every time I asked it's like pulling teeth. But I knew there had to be someone. I told her father—I said, there is a man, I can feel it.”

Pausing mid-stamp, the words slowly begin to catch up. Satoru straightens.

"…sorry. Who is thi—"

“—everyone is so excited to meet you at Trish’s wedding. I already reserved your seat and—"

Her voice keeps going… and going… and going. He pulls the phone away slowly as her voice echoes on the receiver, staring down at the phone in hand to see:

📞 Mom

Oh.

Oh, shit.

This is not your work phone. Your work phone is currently sitting at its dock twelve inches to his left. And it dawns on him that he accidentally just spent the last sixty seconds answering your personal phone like an absolute jackass and—

"Uh…” he backpedals. “Wait. I—"

"I told Sara, I said, we have to meet him and—”

"Stop. I-I really think—"

“—Satoru, what are you doing?’

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, mouth dropping as he sees you standing at the doorway, eyes wide in horror.

Oh, fuck.

“Who is on the other end of that phone,” you hiss.

He winces, pulling the phone from his ear like it’s toxic — and you’re snatching it right out of his hand. He lets you have it without a fight, sinking back into the chair like he’s trying to physically dissociate from the situation he’s just created while you press the phone to your ear.

“And I mean…” she rambles. “I certainly was never one to wait around at twenty-six, believe me. But—"

"Mom."

"Oh! Honey!” She gasps. “Oh, my goodness, hi—I was just having the loveliest chat with—"

"I'm at work. Gotta go."

"—okay! I can't wait to meet Satoru, he—"

Click!

The phone sits in your hand like evidence.

And Satoru — to his credit — has the decency to look like a man standing in the blast radius of his own stupidity. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Like he’s rehearsing an apology in a language he hasn’t learned yet.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

And somewhere ten thousand miles away, your mother is already calling your aunt Sara.

“Sooo… funny story…”

“—what did you do?!”

Satoru flinched, and now, the tears were already rolling down your cheeks — hot, fast, completely unauthorized. Not the kind you could disguise as allergies or blame on the air conditioning. No. The ugly kind.

Great. Fucking great.

You were standing in the middle of your own office, in the building where you work, crying in front of your intern. And Satoru felt the weight of it all at once. In the last four months, he had seen you in every flavor of workplace misery there was. Pissed off, stressed out, one spreadsheet away from actual murder.

But cry?

Never.

And this had his fingerprints all over it.

"Shit," he breathed, panic flashing across his face. "I—fuck. Okay. Please don't—I can fix this. I can—"

"Fix this?" A splintered laugh ripped out of you, and you hated how thin it was. "Fix what, Satoru? You just confirmed a boyfriend to my mother, a boyfriend that doesn't exist—and she is, at this very moment, probably already—"

Another break in your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your hand to your forehead hard like you could hold the tears in by sheer force. But it only made it worse, because now you could feel the wetness on your own face, the heat of it under your palm, and the mortification landed like a second wave.

God. How fucking humiliating.

"Hey, hey—it's okay,” his voice softened. “We'll just… call her back. Right? Tell her it was a misunderstanding. Easy."

“Easy?” you scoffed, the word coming out strangled. “Y-You don’t understand my mother, Satoru,” you managed, voice gone thin as thread. God, you sounded like a child. “If she thinks something is true, then it’s true. That’s it. That’s—there’s no correcting her, there’s no walking it back, she’s already told my aunt Sara by now and Sara’s told Trish and—oh, fuck—”

Another sob tumbled out, and your fingers dug harder into your temple.

God. Stop it.

Stop it stop it stop it.

Think.

Think logically. You're good at this. You solve problems for a living.

But every time you tried to grab onto a thought, it slipped — replaced by the echo of your mother's voice, high and delighted. The happiest she'd sounded talking to you in years. Maybe ever.

…what look will she give you when you show up alone?

"I can’t," you whispered, and the word came out waterlogged. "I-I'm supposed to get on a plane to Japan in a week and—do what? Tell them there's no one? Tell them I'm still—"

Single.

The word sat in your mouth like a stone. You didn’t realize you’d gone silent until the silence itself started ringing — your sniffling, the hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled life of the office continuing beyond the door like yours wasn’t actively coming apart at the seams.

And through all of it, you could feel Satoru looking at you. His stillness; holding you with an expression you'd never seen on him before and couldn't categorize if you tried.

"Um…” he looked down, scratching the back of his neck. “Soooo... the wedding's in Japan?"

You blinked. “What?” And as you wiped your face with the back of your hand, his gazed tentatively flicked back up. “The wedding…” he repeated, voice careful. “It’s in Japan?”

"Yes." Your brow furrowed, not understanding. "Why?"

He didn't answer right away. Just looked down at the floor for a second, jaw shifting, like he was turning something over in his head — something he hadn't fully assembled yet but could already feel the shape of.

"Huh… okay."

Okay what?

You watched his expression change in real time — from guilt to calculation to something else. "Right then!" He said, clapping his hands once, bright and sudden. "No biggie. I'll just go with you."

No biggie?

Your mouth dropped.

That wasn’t even an option, was it?

…is he crazy?

“You’re kidding,” your laugh was awkward and breathless. His eyes rolled with a smug grin. “Sweetheart, c’mon,” and he was gesturing between the two of you like the answer was sitting there in plain sight and you were the only person in the room committed to not seeing it. "Your family thinks you're bringing someone? Cool." A hand pressed to his chest with theatrical solemnity. "I'm someone."

You stared at him. Genuinely stared.

Oh. He wasn’t kidding.

Yup. He’s crazy.

"You are not 'someone,' Satoru. You are my intern."

“Yeah. For like… another six hours?"

He checked his watch with a shrug, and your lips flattened.

"…that is not the point."

“Mm… feels a little like the point."

He smirked, but it faded faster than usual, dimming at the edges as his blue eyes hesitated on yours. Something shifted in his posture; the performance pulling back, like a tide going out. "Um… look…" He pushed off the desk, stepping closer. "It’s really no hassle." He said, hands sliding into his pockets. "I already have a flight scheduled. My family's in Tokyo. And I was going back after this internship anyway, so… this just moves my timeline back a little."

He was shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t agreeing to fly across the world with you and walk straight into the disaster that was your family.

…

His family’s in Japan too?

You barely knew anything about him. He kept his life sealed off with the same practiced deflection you kept yours — jokes in place of answers, charm in place of honesty. You never bothered to ask, because asking meant caring and that was a door you never intended to walk through with anyone.

But…

"Just… let me come with you. I’ll be your boyfriend for the weekend. For the wedding. For… whatever you need,” he said. And this time, when he stepped closer, there was no grin to hide behind. "I can be useful. I caused this. So… let me fix it."

Heat creeped up your neck, and you scoffed, weakly.

"Okay… but you can't fix my mother."

"No…” he murmured, tilting his head. His hand came up and brushed a tear trailing down your cheek with a careful gentleness. “But… I can make sure you don't have to walk in there alone?"

Your breath hitched, and when your eyes finally lifted, the morning light was being cruel again — catching in that impossible blue and turning it soft. Like stained glass dipped in sunlight. Like something holy made dangerous by the simple fact that it was looking straight at you.

“Mhn. So, do I get the job, boss lady? Because that look you’re giving me…” a slow smirk curls up the corner of his mouth. “Very encouraging for my boyfriend résumé, by the way. Might get addicted to it and wanna make it a full-time gig.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, looking away too fast to be convincing.“That was not a look. I was just—” You grimace. “…never mind.”

He’s chuckling as you brush past him. And his words are what scared you the most. Which was bad. Very, very bad. Because your mother was one problem. Japan was another. But Satoru looking at you like that?

Shit…

That felt like the kind of complication that didn’t stay neatly contained. And you know better than anyone. Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.

a/n: hehe. this has been fun to work on! i am excited to share the next part. clearly i love these fake dating/fake marriage tropes aha 🙂‍↕️ bc this is like... what—my third time doing it? soooo i tried to change things up and make it feel less standard/generic :) but anyways, like i said pt 2 will be out in a week, pls lmk if you wanna be tagged 💖

MEGA VOCABULARY !

wet, sloppy, soaked, slippery, gushing

hard, firm, rigid, stiff, curved, straight, hooked, pinkish/purplish/crimson/etc., red hot, flushed, swollen, pulsating, throbbing,

graze, hover, linger, brush

grab, grope, squeeze, tease, test, overstimulate, stimulate, encourage

spread, pry, split, shape, mold, press, squish, grind

smack, slap, hit, spank

roughly, softly, sweetly, nastily, heavily

sweat beading (off forehead), trickling, squelching

rub, circle, sweep, flick, curl, fingering

rolling, grinding, stuttering, staggering (hips)

panting, heaving, gasping, huffing

hiccoughing, sobbing, weeping

clamp down, constrict around, milking

clawing, scratching, digging

hug, cling, wrap, locking (legs around waist)

squirm, wiggle

obsessively, feverishly, thirstily, hungrily, lustfully, needily, greedily, desperately, sensually

tantalizing, addictive

horny, lewd, erotic

abuse, pummel, beat, bully (G-spot)

(of balls) taut, tense, full, empty, drained, milky, heavy

(of cum) pungent/salty, thick, creamy, frothy, leaky, juicy, gooey, stringy, smeared

dizzy, drunk, delirious (from lust/pleasure)

dirty, sloppy, nasty

abused, swollen, pounded, bruised

speeding it up/slowing it down, quickening (pace)

flushing, blushing

plush/pursed/pressed (lips)

unrestrained, restrained, strained

repressed, suppressed, stressed

instinct, impulse

animalistic

movement, motion, action

writhe, thrash, twist, turn

ㅤFOREPLAY !

ACTS — breast play, dry humping, heavy petting, hickey-giving, grinding, lap dance, body worship, massaging, kissing/make-out, sexting, reading smut, mutual masturbation, bathing/showering together

ㅤORALJOBS !

VOCABULARY — Salivate, drool, suck, suckle, slurp, kiss, lick, lap, choke, gag, spit, swallow, drink, gulp, pressing, swirling, rub, sweep, dribble, ooze, leak, throating it, bobbing on it

VISUALS — Saliva/(pre)cum rolling down chin/neck, jerking what can't fit, making out with... (cockhead, shaft, balls, clit, etc.), cheek bulging with cock, hollowing out cheeks while sucking harder, rolling eyes back in ecstasy, tasting them, pulling in for a dirty kiss afterwards, juices smeared across cheek, lips glistening with slick

DEEPTHROATING — watery/glossy/dewy eyes, choked up, throat constricting, throating the length, tip prodding the back of the throat, choking, gagging, spluttering, coughing, gasping for air, using hair as a handle to control how much is taken, headrush when coming off for air, being held down on it, feeling bulge in throat

CUNNILINGUS — buttery soft tongue sweeping circles, flicking, nipping and kissing at clit, sinking inside, wriggling around, feasting on pussy, thumbing clit while tongue-fucking, curling against sweet spot, lapping at slit/folds, long strokes, squirting on their face

ㅤHANDJOBS !

VOCABULARY — fingering, jerking, stroking, thumbing, weighting, pressuring, pump, thrust, stuff, shove, prod, push, glide, slip into

VISUALS — wetting palm/slicking fingers with juices, stroking at g-spot with fingertip, stroking his length, grazing fingertips down, eye contact as they ruin you with their handiwork

FINGERING — warming up with teasing, working at the clit simultaneously, using their whole arm, tensing their biceps the more they exert pressure, switching up techniques (stroking back and forth, sweeping/massaging circles, 'come hither'), curling fingers inside, sucking/tasting sweet slick off fingers

JERKING — cock hanging heavy or drooping from its weight, jumping in anticipation to be touched, throbbing hot in palm of hand, wielding at the base, brisk/quick or languid/slow strokes, balls jiggling each time wrist meets the base

ㅤPENETRATIVE SEX !

VOCABULARY — pump, thrust, stuff, shove, pound, prod, push, glide, piston, fill up, (jaw) slacking, aching, falling/locked/wrung open, curve, arch, lean, wobble, jiggle

VISUALS — the skin of the base of a cock wrinkling up when bottoming out, getting balls deep, skin sticking/slapping against skin, sweat dripping down, balls tightening up and muscles flexing (when a cock is about to cum), abs flexing, leaky cockheads and sticky precum oozing, splitting open hole on a big cock and watching it stretch into a wide O shape to accommodate its girth, holes twitching and spasming like they're aching to be touched or are overstimulated or have just orgasmed, heavy-hitting thrusts or short, quick strokes and which spots the tip is rubbing against, giving it to you/taking it/letting you have it, blissing out/pulling a lewd face/feeling high off an orgasm and rolling your eyes back, hissing through gritted teeth when it feels too good, the way your ankle wobbles over a shoulder in certain positions while getting pounded into, wet sounds getting sloppier/getting wetter and sweatier the longer it goes on, being splayed/trapped underneath them, letting you feel the stretch

SEX TYPES — hate sex, car sex, gentle/rough sex, phone/cybersex, shower sex, (un)protected sex

POSITIONS — mating press, doggystyle, spooning, cowgirl (riding), prone bone, holding ankles, standing, against wall, standing in front of mirror, pushups on top of you, side split, etc.

ㅤDIRTY TALK !

VOCABULARY — moan (duh), groan, seethe, hiss, rasp, mewl, croon, coo, murmur, coax, grunt, scream, rasp, purr, hoarsely, breathy, feathery, reverberating, quavering, quivering, whimpering, needy, high-pitched, staccato, commanding, firm, cheeky, cocky, playful, teasing, muddling, babbling, garbling, gargling, gurgling, speechless, breathless, incoherent, inaudible

DIALOGUE IDEAS — behave, do as i say, watch that attitude of yours, let me guide you, watch me fuck you, don't take your eyes off me or I'll stop, use your words, on your knees, open wide, you love it don't you? filthy slut, don't hide your face, let it all out on me, fuck me like you mean it, all for me?, dirty mind you've got there, need me to take care of you?, just like that, you take it so well, then come and get it, you like that huh?, i know you're into it, cum with me, say my name, who's fucking you this good?, can't resist you, irresistible little slut, take it, spread your legs for me, try a little harder for me

SWEET PET NAMES — baby, bambi, angel, darling, bunny, doll, babydoll, sweetheart, butterfly, good girl/boy, little Aphrodite, goddess, baby girl/boy

VULGAR PET NAMES — (nasty, dirty) slut, whore, bitch, toy

ㅤORGASMS, CUM, 'N CREAMPIES !

VOCABULARY — whipped cream, frothed up/frothing (after creampie), cream, milk, release, baby batter, seed, sticky, gooey, thick, pungent, potent, spilling, spurting, squirting, shooting, dripping, oozing, bubbling (out hole after creampie), running (down slit), decorating or marking (body), salty, nasty, bitter, sweet

VISUALS — ropes of cum, trickling down the shaft to the balls, balls tightening/tensing during release, squirting, creaming/gushing all over cock/hands/toy/etc., shuddering or caving into yourself, buildup to an orgasm being stronger or weaker, stopping or not stopping until their orgasm is over, creampie dribbling out hole

ORGASM TYPES — clitoral, vaginal, cervical, blended, hands-free, cumshot/facial, in panties, etc.

CREAMPIES — warm, dripping, nasty, frothed up, leaky, juicy, deep, rushed, taboo, risky, shallow, oozing, gooey

ㅤCONSENT & AFTERCARE !

VOCABULARY — let me have you, can we...?, is it alright?, unless you don't want to, do you like it?, go faster/slower, let's take a break, are you okay (in the middle or after an act), can you take it?, is your jaw not sore like this?

AFTERCARE IDEAS — getting cleaned up together (bath, shower), carrying you, pillow talk, cuddling, having food, giving water, massaging numb/sore/tired parts, soothing bite/hit marks, brushing hair out of face, kissing forehead, praising for taking it so well, helping put clothes back on, making jokes, petting hair, telling you how much they love you, confessing their feelings

ㅤKINKY STUFF !

LIST — praise, degradation/humiliation, overstimulation, consenting multiple times, dom/sub, breeding, rough sex, voyeur/exhibition, size difference, somnophilia, dacryphilia, nipple play, body worship, anal play, threesome/gangbang, impact play, spanking, slapping, spitting, hair pulling, choking/holding neck, pinning down, cockwarming, age gap, virginity loss, double penetration, infidelity/cheating, jealousy

TROPES — one bed, brother's best friend, office romance, enemies/friends to lovers, forced proximity, fake relationship, playboy in love, ex-partner/spouse, mafia romance, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, professor/student, pornstar au, sugar daddy, arranged marriage, unresolved sexual tension

BDSM — safe words, cuffs, collars, leashes, tying wrists, primal play, knife play, brat play, edging, etc.

ㅤTOYS !

VOCABULARY — buzzing, humming, whirring, maximum, toying

VIBRATORS — rabbit, vibe, egg, bullet, suction, thrusting, app-controlled/remote/etc.

DILDOS — hot pink, plum purple, curved, ribbed design, thick, long, real-feel, glass, transparent, etc.

PLUGS — for plugging a creampie, (bunny, cat) tails, heart-ended

OTHER STUFF — aphrodisiacs, clit stim gels (cooling/heating effects, heighten sensitivity, etc.), lube (flavored or not), nipple clamps, blindfolds, (fluffy) cuffs/ties/ropes

ㅤXTRA RESOURCES !

Minnie's 500 nouns, verbs, and adjectives for sex scenes

KJ Scott's lewd vocabulary survey

Further advice on writing sex scenes