#password log book

[shellislandpublishing]

Computer Password Hot Pink Log Book

[tf2heritageposts]

tips for runaways of abusive families

from one who did that

note: this assumes you are 18+ or will be 18+ upon escaping, and also american, sorry

BEFORE YOU LEAVE:

get your insurance information, ESPECIALLY YOUR HEALTH INSURANCE. you can use it until you're 26

have your ssn memorized

make sure you have a decent amount of money saved up, dependent on your situation

have your method of transportation figured out beforehand. are you leaving the city? state? general area? country? get it planned out

if you are planning on taking your pet with you, make sure you have food stocked up with you and bottles of water. i would also reccomend bringing a 1ml kids syringe if you have the type of pet that will stop eating/drinking in stress situations. also bring a form of cover like an extra shirt or towel if it is an easily stressed pet. also make sure you have a carrier, and if you're going on a plane, make sure it is up to the standard of your plane, as well as making s ure your type of pet is allowed on the plane, especially if its an "exotic" pet, aka anything thats not a cat or dog

i also may recommend stocking up some food but depending on your situation this may not be needed

stock up on any medications you may have/need

don't give your family any form of information they could use to track you down in the future, especially if theyre the crazier types

make sure to change your passwords on any technology you may be leaving form and log out completely on them. make sure you have no files they could use to find you

DURING:

leave at a time where you're 100% sure nobody will catch you. if you have a family member that comes home late from work, know when they'll be back and asleep

turn off ANY location services you have after you're already away from the house, even if it alarms them. you don't want them to figire out where you are

wear a jacket with pockets, especially deep ones

make sure you have your wallet, forms of id, etc

get ready to run as fast as you can

if you're leaving the state, especially via plane, DO NOT IMMEDIATLY GO TO THE AIRPORT, THEY WILL CHECK THERE FIRST! go to a hotel and spend 1-3 days there while they exhaust their time and figure you already left. THEN you can go

stay calm while you're in the process of leaving. the moment you hit the air, they legally can't do anything

keep any critter you have calm, especially if they can suffer health problems from stress

have your hotels booked in advance

AFTER:

dont give your family your address if they try to talk to you

if you can really, cut them off entirely. chances are theyre not gonna change

get an air mattress as soon as you can, we used doordash for one

figure out how you will be paying finances. if you're living with someone, great, if not, you may have to post donation posts on social media until you can get a job

be happy you escaped, good job! most people won't be able to do this so im proud you were

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How the world's leading breach expert got phished

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PITTSBURGH on May 15 at WHITE WHALE BOOKS, and in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE. More tour dates here.

If you can't spot the sucker at the poker table, you're the sucker. Also, if you think you can't get phished, you're the sucker.

I've been successfully scammed six times in my life. Each time, the scam relied on the confluence of several factors that yielded a fleeting moment of vulnerability that some scammer was able to exploit by being in the right place at the right time. I had to be lucky always, they only had to be lucky once.

The first time I got scammed was in 2008, on my first trip to India. As I walked toward the Mumbai airport taxi queue at 2AM, I was approached by two uniformed airport security guards who told me that the taxi rank had been moved in the wake of a recent terrorist bombing in Islamabad, which had resulted in all the regional airports going on high alert. The bombing was real, the airport high alerts were real. The security guards – not real. They were scammers, working with a fake cab that charged me $200 for a $20 taxi ride.

I got scammed again this way in Shanghai, at the Pudong taxi-rank. I was with my wife, daughter and parents and we split into two cabs and the drivers colluded to turn off their meters and charge us extremely high cash fares, dropping us across the street from our hotel so we couldn't enlist the doorman to interpret. Again, it was very late at night, things were confusing, and we'd had to wait for more than an hour for the cab, so we were exhausted and sweaty and divided into two groups so we couldn't coordinate strategy.

Then there was the time I got successfully phished by a Twitter account takeover worm:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

That was also a miracle of timing – for the scammers. I got hit on a day when I was running late, when I'd just reinstalled my phone's OS and was being prompted for my passwords all over again, when I had just done a bunch of major publishing and was getting a lot of messages about my new articles. When a friend got infected by a worm that took over his account and messaged me, "Is this you?" with a link that took me to a webpage that asked me to log back into Twitter, I re-entered my password. If I'd been five minutes later in getting to that DM, I would have seen three more identical messages from other infected friends and twigged to the scam. But I just happened to look at my phone in the two-minute window when the scam wasn't self-evident, and I just happened to be distracted and flustered about running late, and I just happened to have had some life circumstances that made the generic phishing lure seem plausible.

In 2023, I got scammed by a fake restaurant. I was on the couch with a friend from out of town who'd come by to watch a movie. We were chatting and decided to order from our local Thai restaurant. The top result on Google was a paid ad (marked out with the word "ad" in 8-point, grey-on-white type) that had a plausible domain name, which led to a replica of my local place's menu, only with the prices set 15% higher. I didn't even notice – not until the restaurant called me to say that they'd had a flood of orders from these scammers, who charged their customers' credit cards 15% over the odds, then placed an order for delivery using their own credit card numbers. I ended up contesting the charge with Amex, getting the scammers' Wix and credit card accounts canceled, and shaming Google into blocking their ads:

https://nypost.com/2023/02/25/cory-doctorow-duped-by-fake-thai-restaurant-scam/

Then there's the guy who used leaked data from my credit union to impersonate their fraud department, calling me up and social-engineering me out of the last seven digits of my card number (not the last four, as is common – most banks use the same nine-digit prefix, so the final seven digits are all you need to derive the whole card number). The scammer called right after I used two dodgy ATMs in New Orleans, during my last hour in town when I was rushing around to get my most favorite sandwich in the world before leaving. It was the day that a Boeing 737 Max lost its door-plug so the airport was a zoo and we barely made the flight, so I lost the hour I'd planned to use to call the bank's fraud department back. Again: if, if, if. If he'd called an hour earlier – or later. If there hadn't been a giant aviation disaster. If I hadn't been traveling. The scammer had to get lucky once, I had to be lucky every time:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

I got scammed again last Christmas week. I was in NYC with my wife and daughter and I'd gotten great tickets to see The Outsiders on Broadway. It was my kid's first musical and to her surprise, she loved it. In the cab back to the friend's place we were staying at, we talked about what other musicals she might want to see. She loves South Park, and I'd seen banners advertising The Book of Mormon (which was created by the same people) in LA. So I looked up "book of mormon tickets los angeles" on my phone in the cab and found the production's website and ordered the tickets, working quickly in the cab because it was one of those websites that has a countdown timer so you have to finish your transaction in five minutes.

It wasn't the real Book of Mormon website. It was a scam website, reselling Book of Mormon tickets at a 200%+ markup. That fact was noted in infinitesimal writing on the main screen, which I missed in the crowded taxi backseat while I raced the countdown timer. I figured it out about 20 seconds after the transaction cleared, and immediately emailed the vendor to cancel it. All I got was a series of smug "all transactions final" emails from outsource customer service reps (in the end, I was able to get my credit card issuer to reverse the transaction, but it took months). But yeah, I got scammed by a sleazy company called "Bigstub." Fuck those guys.

Every time I got scammed, the con that got me was nearly identical to a con that I'd avoided on numerous occasions. The fact that I'm actually pretty good at spotting this kind of hustle, 99.9% of the time, didn't mean I was immune it it. It just meant that I was vulnerable under very special circumstances, and those very special circumstances do crop up from time to time.

This is the most important lesson of scams: that no matter how well-attuned you are to cons, you can still be conned. The belief that you are immune to a con actually makes you a mark. It's for that reason that I recount the tales of how I got scammed – to help other people understand that being sophisticated, alert and even paranoid is no guarantee that you will be safe.

I'm not the only person for whom a detailed knowledge of scams created immunity from being scammed. Troy Hunt is the proprietor of HaveIBeenPwned.com, the internet's most comprehensive and reliable breach notification site. Hunt pretty much invented the practice of tracking breaches, and he is steeped – saturated – in up-to-the-minute, nitty-gritty details of how internet scams work.

Guess who got phished?

https://www.troyhunt.com/a-sneaky-phish-just-grabbed-my-mailchimp-mailing-list/

Hunt had just gotten off a long-haul flight. He was jetlagged. He got a well-constructed, plausible counterfeit email from Mailchimp telling him that his mailing-list – which he absolutely relies upon – had been frozen after a spam complaint, and advising him to click on a link to contest the suspension. He was taken to a fake login screen that his password manager didn't autopopulate, so he manually pasted the password in (Mailchimp doesn't have 2FA). It was only when the login session hung that he realized he'd been scammed – and by then, it was too late. Within minutes, his mailing list had been exported by the scammers.

In his postmortem of the scam, Hunt identifies the overlapping factors that made him vulnerable. He was jetlagged. The mailing list was important. Bogus spam complaints are common. Big corporate sites like Mailchimp often redirect their logins through different domains, which causes password manager autofill to fail. Hunt had experienced near-identical phishing attempts before and spotted them, but this one just happened to land at the very moment that he was vulnerable. Plus – as with my credit union scam – it seems likely that Mailchimp itself had been breached (or has an insider threat), which allowed the scammers to pad out the scam with plausible details that made it seem legit.

Hunt's forensics on the scam are very interesting. Of especial note is the fact that Mailchimp had retained the email addresses of thousands of former subscribers who had already unsubscribed, meaning that their data was exposed as well. It's not clear why Mailchimp would do this, but I will note that the company is extraordinarily spammer-friendly and goes to great lengths to make it easy for spammers to add you to their lists, and impossible to get off of all those lists;

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/22/degoogled/#kafka-as-a-service

Getting scammed doesn't mean you were stupid, or careless. Frequently, it just means you were distracted, upset, or distraught. We're living through a moment of total, all-consuming chaos, and the scammers are sharpening their blades – not least because the people running the show are unabashed grifters who openly boast that when they get one over on you, "that makes me smart":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/04/its-not-a-lie/#its-a-premature-truth

Buyer beware – it's ugly out there, and it's gonna get a lot worse before it gets better.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/04/05/troy-hunt/#teach-a-man-to-phish

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecomms.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[grimoirguestbook]

Book of Bill Website Codes

(Organized by category with notes)

Here's my list of inputs that work on the website :)

Hopefully the read more works like I think it does and I don't accidentally spoil anybody

That being said by clicking read more you will see All of the codes I have found so far

Please be mindful and try not to spoil anybody else with this information. So please be careful if reblogging

I got everything I have collected/found on here, it's a bit messy right now but After I take a small break I'll reorganize and add notes but for now everything's on here, please so check out the posts linked in the log as once I lost all leads I looked to their post for other inputs :)

Also feel free to put any you know of that Aren't on here in the replies I'm sure there's some missing

I will be updating as I find more so check back in if you can! :)

Thank you!

They'll be categorized by

Neat Tv text- Nothing special the tv just gets some text to it

Tab pages-brings you to another tab/website

Audio/video- Audio/video clip plays

Readables- A picture will pop up on screen that you can read

Printables- You can print them :D!

Other- Hard to categorize

Note:

If an * is next to a name that means that you can get different results for the same prompt

(Any personal notes will be in parenthesis)

-> An arrow means that the Passwords are found in the previous page

ex- Page with code that translates to "dork"-> Dork

Slashes/mean/that/any/of/the/prompts/listed/will/take/you/to/the/same/page

Blue text with an underline is a link! Haha! would you look at that! it works!

Will Keep this updated as I find more and will Note the logs at the end of this post

?????

For the mason page anagrams I know WHO they are I just don't know WHAT to do with them, i know it says cryptogram codex at the bottom i think i have to do something with the anagram results but I'm unsure what that is. Stanford Pines Stanlie Pines Gideon Charles Gleeful Preston Northwest Pacifica Elisa Northwest

Notes to Dipper Prompt: (Unsure why- Maybe going to Blind eye page and blurring it but changes from dipper being told to stare at the sun to "I THINK ITS WORKING! STARE HARDER! HARDER!" and the page looking burnt I Think it has to do with how many input codes you enter, It now says "you've almost solved it" and is even more burnt than before, it is now full black)

Neat Tv text-

Pines

Blendin

*Triangle

Axolotl

Ducktective

Book of Bill

TJ Eckleburg (Great Gatsby)

Nothing

Something

*Ciphertology

Deer Teeth

Scalene

Scrimbles

No

Fortnite/skibidi/ohio/rizz/crypto/elon/gyatt/Doge

Life

Death

Portal

Question

Answer

Euclid

*Well Well Well Being

Reality

The Universe

Journal 1

Journal 2

Journal 3

Theyll see/They'll all see/I see

Filbrick

Disney/Disneyland/Mickey Mouse

CIA/FBI/NSA

333 Sundapple Lane Cozy Creek IL 60714-94611

Season 3

Season 2

Season 1

Caryn

Euclydia

Skeleton

Who are you

Burnside

Family matters

When will I die

Multilevel mark/caesaratbashvigenere

Scientology

Easter egg

Sevral times

oh yes they both

Am i Blanchin

Bye gold

Youre insane

History

Hologram

Scalene

Euclid

Titans Blood -> Owl Trowel

Text Chain (You get questions who's answer is another password)

Riddle->Yes -> Mountain Dont -> Lyre Liar -> Harolds Ramblings -> Union Made -> 29121239168518 -> Grebley Hemberdreck -> Rat -> 3466554 -> Tinsel Snake -> Torture Mentally -> Xgqrthx -> 333 sundapple lane cozy creek IL 60714-94611-> MutliLevel mark->emmaline butternubbins->Dispense my treat

What i thought it was (with answer sources):

Riddle->Yes -> Mountain Dont -> Lyre Liar -> Harolds Ramblings -> Union Made -> 29121239168518 -> Grebley Hemberdreck -> Rat -> 3466554 -> Tinsel Snake -> Torture Mentally -> Xgqrthx -> Titans Blood -> Owl Trowel

Answers found in TBOB- Don't Know, NA, Mcguckets dream page, Medieval page, Anti-Cipher Section- tonic page, Anti Cipher Section- Newspaper, Top Secret page, Textbook page- Skin, Dark Ages Page, Anti Cipher Section-Epilogue, A winter break- footprints page, Book of Bill Cover options page, Never trust a wizard page, Have you dreamed this fellow ad (references informercial in show)

Tab pages-

Abuelita

Dippy Fresh

Alex Hirsch/Alex/Hirsch

*Stan/Stanley (his outfit in ebay searches plus a READABLE with SICK music mind you-Check readable section for more info)

Grunkle Stan

*Gideon (second option unlocked after fully "mableizing" the room)

Waddles

Mcgucket/ Old man McGucket/Fiddleford

Bill/Cipher/LLIB/LLIBREHPIC

Bill Cipher/Rehpic

Zyler (Goes to same place as Craz)

Craz (Goes to same place as Zyler)

Toby Determined

Gravity Falls

Mystery Shack

Not a phase

Blanchin

Peak

Cray Cray

Fixinit1

Meow

Fuck alex/Fuck you alex

Globnar

Monster

Audio/video-

Babba/Discogirl

*Gideon (unlocked after fully "mabelizing" the room)

Tad Strange

Pinata (DEFINATELY WORTH WATCHING)

Vallis Cineris (Found on wall when lightning strikes)

Hey Nerd

Weird (Love him)

Spookemups/Spooky/Scary

That's just a/Theory/Gametheory/Matpat (<3)

One Eyed King-> Naitsuaf (Morse Code) ( early years page)

Forget the past

Im still on your mind

Dorito/Nacho

Just fit in

Rubberhose

Love/Boyfriend

Hectoring

Conspiracy

God/Frillium/Help me

Burned inside

Kook

Kubrick

Small/audio log/music (nothing showed up at first, turned off tv and strange audio played, needs to be reversed)

L is real 2401 (soos my boy)

Readables-

Mason (Dippers real name)

*Dipper (personal notes in ???- keep opening the card to get different results)

Pacifica-> PlatinumPaz

Ford/Standford/Sixer

Wendy

Robbie (def worth a look IMO)

Soos-> Pinata

Cursed (Translated from candle in background)

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Blind Eye->Theyll see (Will blur if clicked on, cannot un-blur, may change dipper?)

Weirdmageddon

Lies

Sorry

Booberry (Decoded from popsicle stick)

Even his lies are lies (Front paper)

Tantrum ( code on Bills Mugshot page)

Suck it Merlin

Shave your Grandma (leads to dippy fresh page)

Baby Bill/baby/lalalalala/daddy/mommy

Owl Trowel

Hotxolotl->Seven eyes-> r34lity

Love ya bro

Fuck/Shit/Fuckyou/bitch/slut/sex

Baaaa-> Black Sheep

naitsuaf (click are you ready-> Sign "pleasure doing business with you -candle light turns blue- OR be a coward (losing sound effect plays)

oroborous-> Frillium

Glass sand beach

math/trigonometry/

horror/creepypasta

destruction is a form of creation

unreality

you can't kill an idea

virus

Occurremusiterum

*Stan (click multiple times to get-once there click "how he beat me several times)

Card

Theraprism

Dionarap->stod eht tcennoc

Printables-

Tyrone/Clone/Paperjam

Curse Wittebane (translates runes on page about witches)

Paper is just book skin ( BE WARNED: automatically downloads a photoshop file and crashses the cite)

Irregular (has code on it)

Divorce/breakup

Other-

Mabel (You get fun stickers and a popping sound :) )

*Giffany ( You put her name in multiple times and it forcibly downloads pictures of her and a text document to your computer, scared me a little Not gonna lie here)

Kings of New Jersey (downloads "secret code" font)

cryptogram codex (downloads cryptogram fonts)

dispense my treat-> Kook (downloads a bunch of cool wallpapers)

Log:

One hour after posting: Added 17 new words

Found by me: Booberry, Mountain Dont, Xgqrthx, titans blood, lyre liar, haralds ramblings, union made

Accidentally found by looking at a post: Sorry

Gifted by replier (Thank you!): MATPAT, yes, no, Fortnite, life, death, portal, question, answer

30 minutes after last update: 9 Words added

Found by me: Theraprism, 29121239168518, Grebley Hemberdreck, Rat, 3466554, Tinsel Snake, Torture Mentally, Fordtramarine, Gun (shocked that worked It was a joke- "bill cipher has A GUN")

Like THREEEEEEE ish hours later?

Found by me: one eyed king, well well well being, shave your grandma, paper is just book skin, even his lies are lies, forget the past, irregular, euclid, tantrum, suck it merlin

Like 12 hours later

Found by me: Reality, Baby Bill, Reality, The universe, Giffany (why is it two Fs, Blarg) They'll see, I'm still on your mind, Journal 1, Journal 2, Journal 3

Gifted to me by a replier (Thank you!): Owl Trowel

Idk- Later

Found by me: hotxolotl, lova ya bro, kings of new jersey, fuck, just fit in

Found on twitter(JasonRitter): Dorito, Blanchin'

Gifted to me by Replier(Thank you!): Gideon's option knowledge

Even MORE later:

Me: Seven eyes, r34ality, filbrick, disney, skibidy, rizz, ohio, love, cia, fbi, rubberhose, 333 sundapple lane cozy creek il 60714-94611, bahhhh, black sheep, naitsuaf, oroborous,theyll see, theyll all see Frillium, occuremusiterum (some of these i gave myself because i was really close but just missed a small detail/spelling)

Taken from here and Here Because I got stumped: Season 3, Season2 , Season 1, Glass shard beach, caryn, Euclydia, Peak, Theory, Cray Cray, Help me, mickey mouse, hectoring, divorce, breakup, skeleton, math, history, monster, gyatt, who are you, fixinit1, conspiracy, riddle, cryptogram codex, horror, creepypasta, trigonometry, god, boyfriend,baby, lalalalala, scary, trigonometry,just blendin, morality, burnside, family matters, when will i die, elon, multilevel mark, goodnight sally,paper jam, tourist trap,the duchess approves,shape, scientology, meow, nacho, crypto,sevral times,easter egg, oh yes they both, daddy, mommy, burned inside, destruction is a form of creation, i see, unreality, you can't kill an idea, am i blanchin, fuck alex, fuck you alex, fuck you, shit, bye gold, nsa, globnar,disneyland,kook, kuibrick,virus,that's just a, you're insane

Next day

Found online: Dionarap, stod eht tcennoc, dispense my treat

[wee-larceny]

Time to Orbit: Unknown liveblog Chapters 011-020

Chapters 001-010">Chapters 001-010

So recently I've been reading Time to Orbit: Unknown by @derinthescarletpescatarian who may or may not appreciate being tagged in this thing again; a sci-fi mystery you've probably heard about if you're on this webbed site. I am definitely having Thoughts about it, so I'm abandoning my uncomfortably long post for a shiny new one, and also grabbing the opportunity to organise some of those thoughts; we have 180+ chapters and any minor detail might be key. It's only getting more complicated, so let us go through unanswered questions and assorted fuckery. Mysterious, frankly bizarre, and/or outright shady behaviour exhibited by characters:

Captain Joshua Reimann: grabbed an axe and started attacking the walls. Wrecked CR1 and his own arm in the process. Died of an untreated infection. Science Officer Claire Rynn-Hatson, possibly also Science Officer Mohammed Aziz and/or Maintenance Officer Ash Dornae: did some sort of experiment involving dangerous chemicals: the experiment ended in disaster killing Rynn-Hatson on the spot and Aziz&Dornae later due to poisoning. The experiment was conducted for unknown reasons despite the lack of any available medical professionals. Captain Kinoshita Keiko: did not authorise the jettisoning of CR1 even though it cut more than half the crew off from her and made it impossible to turn fore engines on from her position. To be fair it's kind of understandable considering the number of people in there. She also died trying to move a giant, heavy crate of protein bars for some reason. Engineer Leilea Arc Hess: spilled coffee all over a keyboard and didn't clean it up. Also kept a physical calendar even though I don't think you need the AI for the calendar or timed reminders to work. The ship's AI: so many things. Didn't wake any new crewmembers when the deaths started; didn't decrease "gravity" or do anything else to save Captain Kinoshita; woke Aspen and Aspen alone when the fore engines needed turned on; needed Aspen to identify by chip even though it was the one that woke them up just a bit ago, who the fuck else would they be; is definitely lying about CR1; is definitely acting outside its parameters; other stuff probably. The organisation that sent them up here in the first place: doesn't allow personal effects which is comic-book villain behaviour. Also made the AI. Doctor Aspen Greaves: upset the bees.

My questions at this point: Why did Captain Reimann try to damage the ship? I've read Solaris, I know that sci-fi characters don't just go crazy for no reason. Why did no one treat Captain Reimann's wounds? Whose body is missing and where is it? There were only three frozen corpses for four potential dead people in the back of the ship. What is in CR1? How did the 120-something people die there? If a guy with an axe in the process of being subdued can actually cause a hull breach then that's not a spaceship I'd like to travel on. When and why was CR1 locked ? We know when it was damaged but not when it was password-locked. Which captain did it? Riemann probably didn't have the opportunity (it was still open during his rampage and I sure wouldn't have allowed him computer access after.) If it was Kinoshita, why? Why didn't the two halves of the crew reestablish contact? What killed the people at the front of the ship? What's up with the disgusting air filer? What was the experiment that killed three members of the crew? Why can't the new captain override the previous one's orders? Captain locks a door, dies, door is locked forever. That's just bad design. How did the aft engines get irreparably damaged? What happened when the ship lurched sideways? It can't have been just the rotations slowing, because that would decrease gravity unless there's a complicated science reason as to why it doesn't. There can't be a complicated science reason because Derin explains those immediately. Did the crew keep logs? If yes, read them. Current suspects:

Captain Reimann: convenient scapegoat but probably not the root of the problems. The AI: could be. Computers sometimes do stupid shit. My company had to change one of their domains once because a widely used cybersecurity AI decided that we're a phishing scam pretending to be ourselves and wouldn't let the programmers whitelist us. The organisation that launched the Courageous, whatever their name is: programmed the AI. Aspen: no, that's stupid.

[musubi05]

╰┈➤ Last One Standing

Part 1: Silence in Room 4

Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Dean Winchester x sister!reader

Summary: Sam and Dean are gone. Just—gone. No trace, no evidence, no memory of them in anyone’s minds but yours. As the world shifts around you, you begin to question your sanity...

Warning: Nothing really just angst

Age: 20-24

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

There was nothing but crickets when you woke up this morning in the motel room and it freaked you out. Mostly Dean would wake you open by throwing a pillow at you while Sam was yelling at him to leave you alone. There was none of that though.

You sit up. The bed next to yours is made. Too neat. Like no one ever slept in it.

“Dean?” Your voice cracks. “Sam?”

No answer.

You toss the blanket aside, grab your phone from the nightstand. No new texts. No calls. You scroll through your contacts: Sam, Dean, Castiel, Bobby, even Charlie. You try Sam first.

The number you have dialed is not in service.

You try Dean. Same result. You try everyone.

Same.

It’s like their numbers were never real.

Your chest tightens as you pull on your jacket, gun still tucked into the inner pocket. You step outside. The Impala isn’t there. It’s just your rental - a beige Ford that Dean refused to let you drive last week.

Except... you don’t remember renting it.

You slam the motel door shut and march into the office.

The clerk looks up from his crossword. “Morning. Need something?”

“I’m looking for my brothers. Joey and James Page. We checked in two nights ago. Room 4.”

He frowns. “You checked in alone. Just you.”

“No no, that’s not right,” you say, heart racing. “James’ tall, shaggy hair, always looks like he’s about to scold someone. Joey’s the smartass with the car. The black Impala?”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Don’t know any Page's. You came in solo. Quiet type.”

You just stare at him.

You check your phone again. Scroll to the photos.

There is a photo. You, Sam, and Dean - sitting in a diner booth, Sam mid-eye roll, Dean mid-sip of beer.

But their faces are... wrong.

Blurry. Like fogged-out glass. Like someone smudged their thumb over the image.

You can’t breathe.

You run outside, past the room, across the street to where the Impala should’ve been parked. But there’s nothing but wet pavement and a puddle reflecting the grey sky.

You whisper their names like a prayer.

“Sam… Dean…”

Nothing answers.

Only silence.

⛧

You drive.

No real destination, just motion. Your hands are tight on the steering wheel. Every few minutes, you glance in the rearview, half-expecting to see Dean’s annoyed scowl or Sam’s worried frown.

Nothing. Just the back seat. Empty.

You head for the one place that’s always felt solid. The Bunker.

You find the entrance like muscle memory. No part of you doubts it’s still there. You twist the handle, push open the heavy door, and descend into the dark.

It smells right. Dust. Old books. Gun oil.

But the lights flicker like no one’s been here in months.

“Dean?” you call into the echo. “Sam?”

Only your voice comes back.

You move through the war room, the library, the kitchen. Everything looks right - but something’s wrong. Photos are missing from the pin boards. The weapons case is half-empty. Their rooms are cold and bare. Dean’s leather jacket is gone. Sam’s bookshelf - his research notes - all blank.

You go to the command center and boot up the computer. Log in with Dean’s old password. “Metallica1969.”

It unlocks.

You open the case files. Some are there - hunts you know you did together. But the names are wrong. Where it should say “Winchester, Dean,” it just says “Unknown.” Over and over.

You lean back in the chair and run your fingers through your hair, heart hammering.

"What is happening?"

You haven’t forgotten them. You know every scar on Dean’s knuckles. You know Sam’s laugh, rare as it was. You remember being ten years old, Dean sneaking you a piece of candy and telling you not to rat him out.

You remember.

So why doesn’t the world?

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 23 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As the trial date creeps closer, Bradley is having a harder time keeping himself from panicking. After you learn some interesting things about Bradley from an unlikely source, you do a little bit of digging. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, smut, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

You slept in until ten. You were sore. The good kind. The kind where you couldn't stop smiling. As you sat up in Bradley's bed and stretched, your eyes caught on your purple crown. There was a piece of paper hanging from it now. You reached for it and read the note he had left for you.

Princess,

I left my computer and the charger in the kitchen. I also plugged your phone in before I left. There are Skittles in the kitchen cabinet. Please text me when you get up. Noah asked if you're staying for dinner. Please stay for dinner. 

I love you.

My computer password is password1234

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Of course it is," you muttered, climbing out of bed and searching for something to wear. You made yourself some coffee with the vanilla creamer, and you spent the day filling out four job applications, eating Skittles, and attending a zoom lecture. You had done basically nothing strenuous, but by the time Bradley and Noah got back, you were yawning as you ran to see them. 

"Hello, boys," you said, kneeling to hug Noah. 

"Let's color dinosaurs," he told you, and you laughed as he led you to the table. 

"Don't I get a kiss or anything?" Bradley asked, unbuttoning his uniform shirt.

You looked at him and said, "You keep that on and I'll kiss you somewhere special later."

His hand paused on the buttons before doing them back up again. "Does that mean... you'd like me to have the uniform on later? Like after bedtime?"

You licked your lips and looked up at him, going for the most innocent look you could manage. "Please?"

Bradley grunted and kissed you a little rough. You tasted his tongue before pulling away from him. "I have dinosaurs to color," you informed him, dropping down onto the seat next to Noah. "And dinner is in the oven. I hope you like lasagna."

"You already know I'll eat anything you make," Bradley said, kissing you on the top of your head.

Noah tried to pronounce lasagna until you were barely holding in your laughter. "What's that?" he asked, handing you a pink crayon.

"It's kind of like spaghetti," you promised, coloring in a tyrannosaurus rex. "I already know you like spaghetti, so I'm just trying to expand your palate."

"Okay," he said with a shrug. "Can I have ants on logs?"

You knew he was going to ask, so you had already made them. When you took the container out of the refrigerator, Noah and Bradley had them polished off in a matter of minutes. "Your weekly grocery bill is probably more than mine is for the month."

"I don't doubt it, Princess," Bradley said, biting into the last carrot stick, still in that sinfully hot uniform. "Let's eat dinner, and then I'll clean up while you and Noah play."

"And then you'll take me home?" you asked cautiously looking up at him where he stood.

"Do you want me to?"

You didn't answer him. You just turned back toward the coloring book while he pulled dinner out of the oven. Did you want to leave? And go back to your tiny, lonely rental? No. You were still wearing Bradley's clothes, and you kind of wanted some more of your own stuff, but you didn't want to leave. Not really. You said nothing, and he didn't ask again. 

He did everything else to get dinner on the table. He plated the food, got drinks, and set the table. Then after everyone including Noah enjoyed the meal, he cleaned up. "You don't want help?" you asked, scooping Noah up in your arms. "Then we're going to watch some Mickey Mouse while we play with blocks."

"Sounds good," he said, putting some foil on the leftover. "Love you," he added casually as you took Noah into the other room. No, you did not want to leave.

------------------------

Bradley was still wearing his uniform. He'd tried to change out of the shirt twice now, but both times you had stopped him. Noah was looking a little sleepy, and Bradley didn't know what you wanted to do. He wanted you to stay over again. He wanted you to stay over until he got through the court appearance on Wednesday and hopefully returned home with Noah, free and clear of Meredith. But honestly, he wanted you with him longer than that.

"Princess?" he asked softly, and you stood up from the pile of blocks that Noah was working on.

"Yes, Daddy?" you asked, standing right in front of him and smirking. If he was alone with you right now, that smirk would be gone in an instant. 

"I need an answer, Baby. You want me to drive you home before I put Noah in bed for the night?"

Your hands found his waist as you gazed up at him. "I want to stay here, but I don't want to distract you leading up to Wednesday."

"Stay," he sighed. "Stay. We can swing by your place and pick up some of your things and then come right back here, okay? Stay."

So that's exactly what the three of you did. Bradley stayed in the Bronco with Noah while you ran inside your place for a couple minutes, and you came out with your usual tote bag plus a backpack. 

"You don't mind if I keep using your computer, right?" you asked before you climbed back in the front seat.

"You can use anything at my place."

The smile you gave him in response had him thinking about asking you things he had no business asking you yet. He closed his eyes briefly before putting the Bronco in reverse and heading back to his house. When you reached for his hand in the dying light, he held yours. And when you asked to turn on the playlist you made for Noah, he fell even more in love with you. 

Noah was half asleep by the time Bradley carried him inside, and when he reemerged from his son's room, you had changed into your own clothes. Bradley kind of missed his oversized shirts on you.

"I have a fun idea, Daddy," you said, and he was practically salivating in response. "I'm going to teach you how to cook."

His brow furrowed and he gave you a look. "That doesn't sound fun at all."

Your laughter in response had him agreeing with you anyway, and you were immediately coaxing him into the kitchen. "We can use up all of your food, and tomorrow I can go grocery shopping for you if you want. I could drop you and Noah off in the morning and then use your car."

"Baby, it's not a car.... it's a Bronco. And you can use it if you promise to be very, very careful with her. You can't park next to the cart return. Actually, you can't really park by anything. No trees, no shrubs, no other cars. Nothing."

You were trying not to laugh, he could tell. "Sure, Daddy. No problem. Now let's start cooking."

He kissed you softly. "You gonna let me change out of my uniform yet?"

"Don't ask me stupid questions. Of course not. You look hot. Now go ahead and grab all of the ingredients for this recipe," you told him, handing him your phone. He sighed and skimmed a recipe for chicken stir fry.

"Princess, there's no way I'm going to be able to make this," he murmured.

"That's an order, Lieutenant Bradshaw!" you snapped, and Bradley was instantly looking at you. "Or I'll make you do fifty push ups!" 

"That's nothing, Baby. I'll do a hundred for you," he said with a smirk, but what he got in response was a slap on his ass. 

"Get to work," you told him, hopping up on the counter with a bag of Skittles and a no-nonsense look on your face.

"Oh, shit," he mumbled, reading through the recipe again.

"And that dinner better be edible, or I'm not going to suck your cock, Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am." He read the recipe a third time before he got the chicken out of the refrigerator. Bradley was starting to get a little nervous about Meredith, but you were certainly helping him keep his mind off of that. He got a cutting board and a knife ready along with some vegetables. 

"Don't forget the salt," you whispered, holding out a green Skittle and popping it in his mouth. 

"Thank you," he whispered back. And you kept offering him little hints here and there. You told him he was cutting the vegetables too small, and then you fed him a purple Skittle. You told him the oil needed to be hotter, and then you fed him a yellow one. You reminded him to keep moving the food around in the pan, and then you let him take a red Skittle from between your lips with his mouth.

"You're better at cooking than you think," you told him. "Noah won't have to keep eating boxed foods."

"That's really your goal here, isn't it?" he asked you, pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead with his forearm.

"Of course. I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about him," you replied with a playful eye roll. "What's he supposed to eat when I'm not around?"

"Why would you not be around?" he asked cautiously. Then his mind started swarming with thoughts of Noah living with Meredith. 

He watched you chew on a Skittle before you softly said, "I'll be around." Your eyes dipped down his chest to his pins and buttons. You looked so young and sweet, and you reached for the knob to turn the burner off. "Don't want it to burn."

Bradley nodded and got a plate down. He carefully scooped some of the hot food onto the plate and handed it to you for inspection. "Give me a fork, Lieutenant," you commanded, and Bradley grabbed one from the drawer while you blew on the food. "I just ordered you a rice cooker and an apron from Amazon. The rice cooker will make your life easier, and you'll look cute in an apron that says Hot Daddy."

Bradley laughed as you raised the fork to your lips. "Thank you, but baby, I don't want you spending your money on me. You haven't even graduated yet."

"Just pretend like you never paid me to watch Noah, okay? I don't like that you ever did."

"Okay," he whispered, placing one hand on either side of you where you sat on the kitchen counter. He watched you take a bite of the chicken, and you moaned softly. Then you tried some of the vegetables before you fed him a bite.

"It's so good. And I barely helped you at all."

Bradley was actually impressed that he'd made something that tasted that nice. "So I have no excuse now but to make Noah a homemade dinner? Is that what you're saying?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," you said, smiling at him as he set the plate aside. "You know how to cook, Lieutenant. I'm so proud of you."

He leaned in and rubbed his nose against yours before kissing you. "Do you still want me to do push ups for you?"

"Kind of," you replied, kissing his mustache. "Just because it would be sexy." 

Bradley did fifty push ups while you stood in front of him and counted them off, and he looked up at your legs and your denim shorts the whole time. 

"Damn, Daddy," you groaned as he hopped up when he was done like it was nothing. "My boyfriend is so strong!" He didn't even have time to respond before you were unzipping his pants and slipping your hand inside. 

When you knelt in front of him, he said, "You weren't kidding about sucking my cock, huh?"

"Not at all," you whispered looking up at him. Your lips were glossy again. Whatever you grabbed from your house, it must have included your lip stuff. God, he loved the way you looked. He loved the way you felt. He loved your tongue, licking the bead of his precum away as you stroked him with your hands.

"You're really fucking good at this," he moaned as you wrapped your lips around him and sucked gently. He stroked your cheek as you took him a little deeper, swirling your tongue as he throbbed. "Goddamn it." The slow, deliberate drag of your lips along his length was enough to make him buck gently.

You moaned around him before pulling him free, and then Bradley was treated to you sucking on his balls until he was panting. "Baby," he whined, his cock resting on your face. You weren't going to let him go any faster. He couldn't decide if fast or slow was what he wanted, so he left you in charge. 

And he was not disappointed when you licked him from balls to tip and said, "I want you to cum on my face."

He ran his knuckles along your cheek and chin. "You're so gorgeous, Princess. I'd love to paint you up and make you even prettier."

"Daddy," you whined before taking him so deep he saw stars. You bobbed along his length, gagging as you tried to take all of him. Your hand was cupping his balls and your saliva was dripping onto the floor as you gagged again. You looked up at him with watery eyes, and this time when he stroked your cheek, he could feel himself.

"So good," Bradley growled. "God, you're the best."

You sucked and bobbed until he was sure he was going to lose his mind, and then he withdrew with a snap of his hips. He stroked himself twice, whispered, "I'm about to cum," and then he watched you flinch and giggle as ribbons of white landed on your cheeks and lips. His cum hit your nose, and then you opened your mouth for him.

"Fuck," he grunted, pumping every last bit onto your beautiful features, and then he was between your lips again as you licked him clean.

"Baby, don't move," he begged, scrambling to find his phone. "Will you let me take a picture?"

"Yes," you said with a laugh, licking him from your lips. "You can add it to your dirty photo album. Remember the passcode?"

"I sure do," he grunted, snapping a few pictures of you kneeling on his kitchen floor with his cum on your face. And then he was kneeling too and kissing you and telling you he loved you. 

-------------------------

You slept better in Bradley's arms than you ever did at home. He told you once you were curled up in his bed with him that he was getting nervous about the custody hearing. You tried to be encouraging. "There's no way anyone would let someone take Noah away from you. You're his only parent as far as he's concerned. He only knows love from you, Bradley."

"And you," he said softly. Warmth filled your heart as he added, "Noah knows that you love him. He lights up around you, and he's just as comfortable with you as he is with me. You're the best thing that ever happened to us."

You were supposed to be the one comforting him. But you ended up dozing off in his arms filled with hope instead. The next morning, he let you drive his Bronco "as a test" on the way to Noah's daycare. You had offered to keep Noah with you for the day instead, but Bradley insisted you spend your time finishing your school projects. 

"Okay," Bradley said as you parked in the daycare lot. "I'm fine with you driving the Bronco around. Do you remember the rules about parking lots?"

"Oh my god," you mumbled. "You're really not going to get Noah out and move along with your day until I answer correctly, are you?"

"No." His face looked serious as you laughed and promised you wouldn't park next to the cart return, another car or any sort of living plant.

"That's my Princess," he crooned, running Noah inside once you'd said goodbye to him. Then you dropped Bradley off at work, but this time, you crawled across the seat to straddle his lap for a moment.

"I love you," he whispered as you combed your fingers through his hair and kissed him. 

"I love you too, Daddy. I'll pick you up here at five," you promised, pressing your forehead to his. "And then I'll cuddle you all night, and you won't be worried about tomorrow at all. I can see on your face that you're thinking about Meredith. But think about Noah instead."

He wrapped his arms around you and sighed. "I'm always thinking about Noah. And you. And us." He kissed you one last time, and you let him climb out. "I love you, Princess."

You waved to him on the sidewalk, and then Jake joined him, and you waved to both of them. Then you stuck your head out the window and called out, "Can't wait to have you again later, Bradley! Oh, hi, Jake."

Then you started the engine again as your boyfriend laughed while Jake walked away. If you could at least make him laugh today, maybe that would make dealing with tomorrow a little easier. But it was hard not to think about what he and Noah might be up against. You couldn't let yourself dwell on it. Instead you drove to the grocery store with Bradley's credit card tucked inside your wallet.

You got all the staples, including your coffee creamer and everything you would need to make a big batch of ants on logs. Then you picked out some things you could teach Bradley how to make along with everything Noah liked. And you spent over two hundred dollars. Bradley had assured you that you could get whatever you thought they all needed and put it on his credit card. 

You were skimming the receipt as you pushed your cart to the Bronco. "Yikes," you muttered, loading bag after bag into the back, extra careful not to bump his precious vehicle with the cart. Then you closed it up and took the cart to the return. 

Just as you were digging his key out of your pocket, you looked up. You made eye contact with Meredith. She was standing there, right next to the Bronco.

"What do you want?" you asked. Your voice sounded strong, and you realized you were not even slightly intimidated by this woman when Noah wasn't with you. What could she really do to you in the middle of a parking lot at nearly ten in the morning?

She looked angry, eyeing you up and down and glancing at the Bronco. "I can't believe he lets you drive that. It's worth a fortune," she said, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder and scowling. 

The car key was digging into your clenched fist, but you didn't close the distance to her. "Let me rephrase my question: What the fuck do you want, Meredith?"

"Such a filthy mouth on you. And you're spending time with my child," she said casually. "Lovely."

"Are you following me?"

She rolled her eyes, and you hated her so much. You supposed you could see how she was physically attractive, but you only felt the desire to kick her. 

"I'm not following you. I'm about to go grocery shopping. This is the store I always come to. But I wouldn't mind chatting a bit. I'd be more than happy to use your potty mouth and the fact that you're sleeping with Bradley against him in court."

You laughed out loud. "Well, you'd have to actually show up first. Are you going to be there tomorrow? Or run and hide at the last minute again?"

Her scowl was back. "You have a lot of questions, huh? Well, so do I. Is all that life insurance money still in an account for Noah? Or did you spread your legs open wide enough to get Bradley to pay for your little nursing degree?"

You gasped out loud. You would never do that. You loved Noah and Bradley. And now you were afraid you'd just walked into a trap. Meredith was looking at you from ten feet away like it was a showdown. One that she intended to win, because she brought the correct ammunition when you clearly had not. 

"I guess the money is still there then," she said, starting to look more satisfied. "You know he'll never commit to you, right? He was always afraid of commitment."

"Yet you're the one who abandoned her child," you said softly, but not without conviction. 

She took a step closer to you, venom in her voice. "I didn't want to be held down, but things change."

"Do you even want him? Or are you just trying to get back at Bradley?" you asked, unable to stop yourself. "Because Noah deserves a family who loves him. You left them. But Bradley loves him. Bradley would do anything for him."

Her voice was like steel. "And I deserve a lot more than what I'm getting." She spun on her heel and started to charge away.

"What does that mean?!" you called after her. But she didn't stop or turn back. "Meredith!" You got nothing but the back of her blonde hair, and then she was in her BMW and driving away.

"What the hell?" you muttered to yourself, hands shaking as you put the key in the ignition and started the Bronco. You had to sit for a minute until you were calm enough to drive. Thank goodness you hadn't kept Noah with you today. Thank goodness you'd been alone. And at least Bradley didn't have to deal with this either. 

Oh, he was going to be so upset when you told him later. He'd be mad you didn't interrupt him at work this instant, but you weren't going to do that. You needed to get back to his house right away and get on his computer. Carefully, you put the Bronco in drive. Apparently this thing was worth a fortune. Bradley had a nice house, and he probably paid a pretty penny for Noah's fancy daycare. He told you to spend his money on whatever you wanted at the grocery store. But there was some sort of life insurance money, too? What was going on here?

Your brain was swimming, or maybe drowning as you parked in Bradley's driveway and forced yourself to carry in the groceries and put all of the food away before you locked the front door behind you and turned his computer on. You entered his ridiculous password which you were definitely going to have to make him change, and you started your search. 

Hours went by, and you subsided on only coffee. Then you checked the time on your phone. It was almost five o'clock. You were going to be late to pick them up, and now you had more questions than answers as you ran back out to the Bronco.

-------------------------

Okay, Meredith. Okay. Daddy will see you in the courtroom. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 24

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

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@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

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@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

[libbyfandom]

Let’s take a look inside Modern!Mizu’s Camera Roll! Featuring Reader and BES Characters (Companion Piece)

Screenshot of an undercut with long hair.

Screenshot of a wolf cut.

Picture of her tv screen showing her new high score at a video game. (To rub it in Taigen’s face that she beat his)

Her hand cupping the back of a pretty neck covered in hickeys.

Akemi death-gripping a trash can with her face buried into it as she hurls. The rollercoaster Mizu forced her on is in the background.

Selfie of her and her adoptive father at a baseball game. (She couldn’t get him to smile. He only hummed, which made her laugh)

Video of you asleep on her, your head on her shoulder and your hand curled up on her chest. Her fingers are gently brushing the side of your face for a minute, before your eyebrows pinch in sleep. You make a soft, stressed noise unconsciously. Her lips press to your temple for a long moment. “Shh shh shh.” Your expression relaxes again, and she goes back to gently stroking your cheek.

The full moon.

A video of Ringo coming up silently behind you and Akemi while you're standing in line at a coffee shop. You two turn around and nearly jumps out of your skin when you sees him. (He's always so silent)

Screenshot of a quote “How do we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not become? -Doc Lubel”.

Her torn up jeans and bloodied outer thigh as she sits in the grass along the road, her crashed motorcycle in the background.

A video of her holding your wrists down in bed, oh so slowly pressing kisses all over your chest where she yanked your top up to your collarbone. Every once in a while she bites into your skin without warning, gripping your wrists tighter when your body arches and tries to twitch away with broken whines. She waits each time for you to stop moving, staring intensely up at you with your skin between her teeth, before she licks at the bite to soothe it away and restarts the cycle.

Video of her sitting on her bed practicing knife flipping.

Her hand holding a book titled "Waiting by the Front Door: Children of Parents with Addiction".

A close up of the price tag of the book "Waiting by the Front Door: Children of Parents with Addiction".

Saved selfie Ringo sent of the two of them on a hike.

Screenshot of a dinner reservation confirmation for two at a new restaurant downtown.

Video of Akemi in the middle of some rant in Mizu and Ringo’s living room. The darkness outside the window suggests it’s very late into the night. She gestures wildly at something off camera. “-and Taigen pees in the fucking shower-!” Taigen’s voice comes from somewhere off camera, loud and offended. “I aim for the drain!” You sit in the background behind Akemi, looking disturbed and distressed.

Screenshot of piercings. (For the wish list people are asking for)

A gif of a character going “Some god damn peace and quiet”. (For the wish list people are asking for)

The ocean.

Saved video Ringo sent of you two at the beach bonfire. You’re cuddled up into each other while sitting against a log, your legs overlapping hers. You’re both staring into the fire, absentmindedly playing with each others fingers where you’re holding hands on your lap. She’s never looked more relaxed.

You and Akemi in the backseat asleep on the drive back from the beach.

Saved photo you sent her of her and her adoptive father playing chess. Her brows are furrowed as she thinks over her next move, sitting properly with her hands in her lap. This is instead of how she usually plays with one leg propped up on her chair and elbow leaning on her knee when she plays with Akemi.

The one nice photo of just her and Taigen, posing in a big mirror at a dark, more upscale restaurant wearing suits.

Screenshot of receipt for two concert tickets on your birthday.

Ringo laying head down on a pile of finals notes in defeat at the library.

Screenshot of a text you sent of a grocery list.

A video in her “Hidden” folder that is 37 minutes long and requires a password that only she and you know.

Screenshot of the word “Bitch” in Barbie pink font.

You curled up on the couch fast asleep, wearing Mizu’s oversized college sweatshirt.

Saved photo Ringo sent of Mizu standing in the bathtub making a peace sign with one gloved hand as the other holds Akemi’s newly dyed and wet burgundy hair while Akemi is seen leaning over the tub so Mizu can rinse out the excess dye.

A picture of her hand holding an engagement ring nestled inside a green velvet box. She wanted Akemi’s opinion. So she’ll stop having an anxiety attack over what she picked.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 10

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 1457

Smut warning!! Masturbation only.

Masterlist

A/n: of course I figure out how to write longer chapters when there's a smutty Joe Goldberg scene involved... Also, I realized today the whole "but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you" in the summary isn't actually that "soon". I'm just having way too much fun with stalker Joe...

Radio silence.

That's what the past two weeks have been, and it's my own fault. I fucked up. I tried to push for too much too fast.

When we left the festival, everything seemed fine. I got you a cheap burger and some coffee like I promised, and I sobered you up like I promised, and I got you home safely like I promised, and everything was just great. Then, the next day, I texted you:

ME: Do you want to get dinner with me after work tonight?

And you answered:

And I told you of course but then the weekend came along and you told me you had a thing, and then the next week you were busy, and now it's been two weeks of us barely talking. You're not even that busy, (Y/n). I know because you stay in every night eating twizzlers and watching Netflix. You're not even reading, which may have been a good excuse to bail on me if the book was really, really good.

YOU: ugh!!! i can't 😭 i'm sorry this week is going to be the worst

YOU: maybe this weekend? 😁

Well, today, I'm figuring out why you won't talk to me. It's easy as pie. First, I call a plumber about a leak in your bathroom. I make sure to pick a big company, so the person on the phone definitely won't be the person who comes by. Then, after your landlady has opened the door for the guy they sent, I go in and call:

“Babe? I thought you promised you weren't gonna leave the door open anymore! Oh, hello.” I act surprised to see the plumber coming out of the bathroom. “Are you… supposed to be in here?”

“Got a call about a leak. Everything seems fine, though.”

“(Y/n)’s always saying she's sure somethings wrong in there. I keep telling her there's nothing wrong at all.” I make a motion with my hand. “She's just not strong enough to close the tap all the way.”

Your apartment is old. I really hope I'm right about your taps being old, too.

“Well, there are no leaks,” the plumber says. “And you can tell her I said so.”

“Well, thank you for coming out, anyway.”

“Yup.”

I lie on your bed for a while, breathing in your scent. Then I go into your bathroom and smell your soaps. None of this is why I came here, but I can't help myself. I'm drunk on you.

And then the guy leaves.

I am gloriously alone inside your space. It's even better up close than from a distance: your books are all well-read, and on the wall where the windows are, you've got posters of old shows and movies. You've got a cd-player underneath your window which can't be seen from outside, and a cd-pole, too. You’ve got Bowie and Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana, and you don't just have them to have them either. They're not dusty, which means you actually play them.

Finally, I find your laptop. It's underneath your bed, just where you always leave it. You never close it down properly and you don't have a password, which means I'm in.

You are logged into WhatsApp and Discord. I can read all your texts. Your e-mail is open, too. This is the history of you, right at my finger tips.

I check the time. Four pm. Another hour until you even start to go home.

First, I check your texts. You are texting right now: your mom. Or at least, you sent your last message to her ten minutes ago, and you're still waiting for an answer. It's all in Dutch, though, and if I take the time to translate everything, I'll be here for far too long.

Your texts with Nadia are the same deal. Dutch. I translate the last few, from last night, because I think you might have actually said something meaningful to her, but nope:

YOU: what colour should i dye my hair?

NADIA: No!!! You finally have your own colour back and you TOLD ME to stop you if you tried to bleach it again!

YOU: ok but what if i dont bleach it

NADIA: I will fly over there and kick your ass.

I smile. I still like Nadia.

Below that exchange, there is your work group chat. Then, there are your messages to me. You don't text a lot of people, it appears.

Your Discord is the same: a whole lot of nothing. Most of the messages are years old and while I would love to go through them sometime, to get to know a younger version of you, today is not the right day.

Your email is more interesting. You, (Y/n), have a penpal. Here's the latest in a long, long email chain:

To: Greybird@wirrhino.com

Subject: WHY AM I LIKE THIS

hey hey,

i know we haven't talked in a while (why does every email we send each other start like that omg) but i miss you, and i wanna talk to you, and i figured you don't mind getting a message at like 3 am.

how are you doing? how's your family? how's the manny-ing job going? (is that even how you say that? idk. i'm not english and i will never pretend to understand the intricacies of the jokes of this language.)

a lot has been going on with me, i'll be honest. for one, as you know, i moved to new york!!! fucking finally. we are in the same country now, which means we have to plan that road trip across the states soon. come on, grey. we've been talking about it since we were 16 and we WILL make it happen. i will murder you if you say no!!!

anyway. things are good here. ish. you know how it is. the job is jobing. i don't think anybody there really likes me. actually i'm pretty sure no one there does. it's super lonely.

at least i've made a friend! his name's joe. he works at a bookstore so you just KNOW i have a crush on him. but also he's my only friend here and i don't want to ruin that. but i kind of am ruining it bc now i'm avoiding him bc i'm 100% sure he likes me too and WHY AM I LIKE THIS, GREY?? ANSWERS ARE NEEDED! but yeah. he's really great. and cute. and ugh.

write back!! i need advice and also i need to hear about your life.

love,

(Y/n)

I have never been so happy, (Y/n). I love this Grey, whoever he is, because you told him I'm really great. And cute. And ugh.

Also, you said you have a crush on me. I knew it! You are obsessed with me. You send emails about me at three am. You think I'm great, and cute, and ugh. You are avoiding me because you want to jump my bones. You are so obsessed with me you can't stand to talk to me.

I lie back on your bed and stare at the ceiling and I'm hard. Harder than I've ever been. I press my hand against my cock and then I unzip my jeans and stroke myself and is this love, (Y/n)? Will we one day tell our children you couldn't stand to be near me because you loved me so much?

Great. And cute. And ugh.

Great. And cute. And ugh.

One day soon you will show me that email and you will be so embarrassed, but I will tell you how adorable you are. I will tell you I was in love with you from the start, from the moment we met. Then you'll kiss me and you'll ride me right on this bed, right in front of this window where anyone can see us–

I check the time again. I need to get going soon, or you're going to catch me here. One day it will be expected of me to be waiting for you after work, but that day is not today.

I come hard, all over my fingers but luckily not on anything else. Part of me wants to wipe my hand on your sheets just so you'll smell me tonight, but I know you're not ready for that.

I go and wash my hands in your bathroom. The one where there isn't any leak.

I replace your laptop, make sure your bed is exactly as it was when I came in (messy, so that's easy) and pick up a sock you left on the floor. That'll be a keepsake for me. A reminder of this day, when you told someone you had a crush on me. That I am great. And cute. And ugh.

[shellislandpublishing]

Yellow Password Log Book

[megsbunnysstuff]

please read this before interacting with me in any way.

heyy my name is megan ꒰ঌᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ໒꒱

this blog is filled with adult content, including hard kinks so it’s only 18+ minors dni! blank/ageless profiles will also be blocked if i catch them in notifications

im a 24yo sub woman from somewhere in europe, im chubby so please leave if that’s not something you like

kinks im into: cnc, free use, daddy kink, somno, intox (to a degree - only in terms of alcohol, substances are a hard no), degradation/praise, breeding kink and more

limits: diapers, branding, permanent damage, hypno, pregnancy (as in real life), scat, vomit, gore

out of normal stuff/interests, i love anime, video games, cooking/baking and books <3 i can yap for hours about any of my interests btw

remember that everything on here is a fantasy. im also a human being, just like you. you don’t have to be mean just because im not responding, i have my own life too, im not in a subspace all the time or/and dont want to interact with people atm

fyi, i used to have session but i accidentally deleted the app without saving down my password so if you messaged me there, don’t expect a reply cause i cant log back in 🥲

[azfellesquire]

Is Crowley already the new Supreme Archangel?

A few oversights made millennia ago, and suddenly we have a demon archangel on our hands.

Caution: I came up with and wrote this in the last few hours so potentially crackpot theory ahead. Apologies if this has been proposed before, it’s not one I’ve seen. And I’ve seen A LOT.

So supposedly the miracle Aziraphale and Crowley performed together was something only the mightiest of archangels could have done. Everyone assumes it was Crowley because they think he was a high ranking Angel formerly. Or that it was the two of them together. Or that Jimbriel amplified it. But what if…

“There is always a supreme archangel”

Michael says this in S2E1 when talking with Uriel about who is in charge now that Gabriel was missing. Gabriel was removed from office in the trial we hear, he’s no longer Supreme Archangel. If so, Michael’s statement would imply that as soon as Gabriel’s removal happened, a new archangel already existed. Now obviously the Metatron is making a show of choosing Aziraphale as the new Supreme Archangel. But is that within his power to do so? Or is he suggesting working with Crowley for a different reason, possibly unknown even to him?

“I am the only first-order archangel in the room, or you know, the universe”

During the “2nd Armageddon-that-wasn’t” discussion, Gabriel says these words. As he says them, it cuts (ominously isn’t the right word here, pointedly maybe?) to Crowley leaning against the desk, and lingers there just a bit too long.

“How do you know it wasn’t me?”

Another clue to the powerful angel Crowley was. It was clearly said in a teasing manner throw Shax off. But much like the barrel of red herring in the intro, is it a red herring to something else?

“Can you send lightning bolts and get them to report back to you?”

The only other time we see someone calling lightning or using it is, you guessed it: Gabriel in S1 on the airbase to port in and out. I’ve read the theory that Angel!Crowley was the lord of lightning, which I’m not opposed to, but to me this is another link.

“Never change their passwords”

We have one HUGE instance of Heaven being sloppy in their record keeping (passwords), and lax in their security protocol (Crowley bopping about with Muriel). Whereas Hell is meticulous in their record keeping, as shown by the bills, admissions process, and S1 contract.

So what if: when Gabriel was stripped of the title, a new Supreme Archangel was automatically appointed. Except instead of someone else, because heaven neglected to double-check their logs after The Fall, Crowley was still on the books as next in line? This would absolutely play into “God playing games with the universe” and “just think what would have happened if we’d been at all competent” themes running through both seasons. It would also follow the theory that people noticed Aziraphale and Crowley were on the “wrong” side for much of the season. It would also explain a few continuity errors along the way (how did Crowley know Muriel’s rank? He knows it through the knowledge automatically given to the Supreme Archangel).

“Funny ol’ world, isn’t it?”

Caveats and potential weaknesses:

I have no idea how this fits into the fact that S3 will be the actual continuation the Neil and Terry planned, as to my knowledge S2 was essentially a “Neil’s chaotic angsty ineffable husbands fanfic”. But clearly S2 has to play well into the plan for S3. I also kind of hate my theory because Crowley specifically declined to be an angel again, and his hand has been forced too often already.

Now I am a staunch advocate of the body-swap theory, and I’m not sure how this would play into that. Does Metatron know? Does he think he has the power to appoint? Does he think the title went to Aziraphale because of the miracle? Does he try to get Crowley to come back with Aziraphale to exploit his power? Does he know about the body swap in S1 and if so, was he trying to trigger another one to get the right “soul” to heaven?

There are a few other things I haven’t figured out how to incorporate into this post yet. I’ll try to put them into coherent thoughts in the next few days, but thought I’d throw this to the wolves universe for the time being.

Thought 1: “How have your lot managed to stay in charge all this time?” “I’m not so sure we have.”

Thought 2: I need to do (another) rewatch before I nail this one down (such a sacrifice I tell you), but does Crowley have a visceral reaction like he does in S1 to being called “good” in the current, post Gabriel-removal timeset? Obv in Edinburgh/Job, but that’s in the past. He denies it, sure (with Jim), but he straight up flashes a smile and thanks Mrs. Sandwich when she says “You’re a good lad” (after the denial).

2.1: No one calls him “good” in present day except these two instances. Vast difference in the visceral reactions of season 1 and flashbacks.

Thought 3: Crowley is the only one who can trigger Jimbriel’s recall memory.

[myfandomrealitea]

The day that you understand that fanfiction has no literary/value difference to published literature and writing is the day you will understand exactly why readers and authors need a symbiotic relationship in fanfiction media just as much as the published author and their reader.

Right now, you have unlimited access to free literature.

I don't think a lot of you fully grasp the actual, true meaning of that. You are accessing literally as much content as you want, that you have had to do absolutely nothing for, for free. And often on a single website that you are also accessing for free, and don't need a hundred and one different kinds of log-ins or passwords or paid subscriptions to access.

If I want to read a specific type of story, I don't have to spend gas money to go to the bookstore that might not have the story I want, or funnel money into a blood corporation like Amazon to access it. I don't even have to pay someone for the time and effort and skill it took for them to write it.

I can go to my search bar. I can type in 'AO3' and I can access 141 variants of the same story for free and all in less time than it takes for my morning coffee to brew.

I am accessing content that cost these authors literal hours of their lives. Their time, their skills, their research, all for free, and I have to do absolutely nothing in return for it.

We take this kind of freedom and resource for granted, and even more so the people who actually enable us to have it in the first place.

Writers who talk about wanting engagement aren't being greedy, needy or selfish. They're not writing just for the 'clout' or whatever kind of half-cocked accusation you want to make. They're asking because engagement is what fuels more content. More community fulfilment. More productivity.

A lot of writers write for themselves, but they also write because its something they want to share with other people. Its a contribution to a shared interest. Its longevity to the enjoyment you experience within that space. Its a continuity of a limited source.

So many people sneer at fanfiction authors who offer commissions and it genuinely makes me want to rattle them all like a marble in a bean can.

Because you pay for books. Because someone took the time to write it. You don't sneer at the rows and rows of books in stores. You don't demean the authors who spent literal hours, sometimes even decades of their lives writing them.

People who write fanfiction are still authors.

Fanfiction is still literature.

Fanfiction's existence depends entirely on the authors.

Appreciate what you have. Understand the value in what you are being given.

Basic gratitude and respect is by far the absolutely minimum you should be giving in exchange for quite literally all the free literature you could ever want, on demand.

[mariacallous]

When the claims representative, whom I’ll call Steven, sat down at his computer around 7:15 A.M. last week, he had already been awake for an hour and a half. The morning routine for him and his family is best described as “fend for yourself,” he said. That day, he waited for his older son to shower before taking his turn; neither he nor his wife had time for breakfast. He had joined the Social Security Administration two decades ago, and came to specialize in one of its more complex and lesser-known functions: providing a form of welfare called Supplemental Security Income, or S.S.I., to people who are disabled or extremely poor. But the S.S.A. is so understaffed that Steven does a bit of everything. “My job is to be kind of like an octopus,” he said. The agency’s administrative budget had not kept up with its rising workload as more people aged into retirement. Now news outlets were reporting that President Donald Trump and Elon Musk, via Musk’s DOGE outfit, planned to fire up to half of the agency’s sixty-thousand-odd employees. (The S.S.A. later said that its goal was to lose seven thousand.) DOGE had also gained access to S.S.A. databases. “We don’t know how long we’ll be here,” Steven said. “Some people are really pissed. Others are sad and emotional. Others are making plans.” A couple days earlier, Trump had delivered a long self-congratulatory speech to Congress, in which he accused the S.S.A. of “shocking levels of incompetence and probable fraud.”

Steven lives in a Midwestern town near where he was born and raised, which means that he occasionally recognizes a relative or a family friend in a case file and has to recuse himself. Three days a week, he’s at a cubicle in a regional field office, one of twelve hundred across the U.S. The other two days, he works from home, at a plastic folding table in the corner of his bedroom. He was on the early shift. His laptop was propped up on a neon-green bin, the kind typically used to store Legos or crayons. It was flanked by two large monitors, creating a triptych. All around him were piles of kids’ clothes and books. Near his left foot was a tiny metal car; he had taped yellow notecards reading “clock,” “fan,” and “shelf” to a clock, fan, and shelf for the benefit of his youngest child, who was learning to read. Steven’s wife made drop-offs at kindergarten and day care, then came home. She has her own office setup downstairs.

The day officially started when Steven logged on to a dozen software programs. One had a blocky monochrome interface that looked like it was from the late nineties. Another was labelled “Workload Action Center,” in a light-brown, slanted font of a similar vintage. Steven kept a list of his passwords, which he had to routinely update, on a scrap of paper next to his keyboard. He scanned something called a “Tickle List” that highlighted urgent cases. His primary task was to conduct nonmedical “redetermination” interviews (code: “RZ”)—part of the S.S.A.’s process for insuring that current recipients are still eligible to receive benefits. More than seven million Americans of all ages count on S.S.I., and sixty-eight million seniors receive earned retirement payments. Social Security is the largest government program in the country and most recipients’ main source of income. It was envisioned by Frances Perkins during the Great Depression. “Redeterminations are the highest priority,” Steven said. “We should have three to five people on them at every office. Sometimes there’s only one.”

He put on a wireless headset that connected to his laptop and an online phone system. The first redetermination call was with a parent who was receiving S.S.I. on behalf of a disabled child. “Hi, this is Steven, from Social Security Administration,” he said. “I’m just calling to see if you’re able to do the redetermination appointment.” His stomach growled. The bottom-right corner of his center screen flickered with notifications. He stayed with the caller. Date of birth? Marriages? Job placements? He clicked “yes” and “no” bubbles and typed in numbers. He had much of the script memorized. “Any items held for potential value?” he asked. “Promissory notes, real property or business property, or ABLE accounts?” S.S.I. is allocated based on an applicant’s income, assets, family size, and other factors. It often takes a year, and the help of a lawyer, to get a decision. (Earlier in Steven’s career, the time frame had been three to six months.) If an application is rejected, the case can be appealed to an administrative-law judge, and the wait for those hearings is around two years.

“That was the last amount verified,” Steven continued. “Has that changed?” While waiting for the program to advance to the next screen, he glanced at e-mails on his rightmost monitor. There were more from headquarters and human resources and the employees’ union than usual. Since November, three S.S.A. commissioners or acting commissioners had come and gone: Martin O’Malley, Carolyn W. Colvin, and Michelle King. The guy in charge now was Leland Dudek, whom Trump had elevated from a middle-management role for his eagerness to help DOGE access S.S.A. files, a vast library of individual medical, housing, family, and financial records. Dudek announced plans to eliminate six out of ten regional headquarters; several directors left the agency. In an all-staff e-mail, Dudek wrote:

Criticism, contempt, stonewalling, and defensiveness are the four forces that can end any relationship and weaken any institution. . . .

Elections have consequences. . . .

Now, under President Trump, we follow established precedent: we serve at the pleasure and direction of the President. Only the Courts or Congress can intervene.

The latest e-mail from headquarters stated that, “effective today,” employees were prohibited from engaging in “Internet browsing” of “general news” or “sports” on “government-furnished equipment.”

Steven was almost done with the redetermination. Hard cases, like an overpayment that needed to be clawed back, could “make the conversation longer, vulgar.” This one was easy; the payments, of around a thousand dollars per month, would continue. “You will receive a summary statement regarding the information that we discussed,” he said. He moved on to a second call. This one, too, involved a young adult whose caretaker—in this case, a nonprofit organization—was the payee. “Hello. This is Steven from Social Security. How are you?” His cellphone buzzed. Since Trump’s reëlection, he had been in a prolific, darkly humorous group chat with fellow S.S.A. workers in the Midwest. He referred to them as his sisters and brothers. The incoming message was a link to a news story about the imminent closure of S.S.A. field offices in the area. One man in the chat, who voted Republican but had grown skeptical of Trump, wrote, “Fucking unbelievable. . . . This would devastate our agency’s ability to serve the public.”

Meanwhile, the redetermination call was getting tricky. A new source of income seemed to be complicating the calculation of resources. Steven put the nonprofit on hold and logged into Equifax. He walked across the room to grab a plastic bottle of water and took a swig. “I’m trying really not to go off the deep end,” he said. If his office closed, and the neighboring offices closed, many people would have no way of getting benefits. For one thing, applications for Social Security cards and certain forms of S.S.I. had to be submitted in person.

Steven worried about his own well-being, too. His kids were on his health insurance. He and his wife had to take care of his father. S.S.A.’s human-resources division had sent an e-mail titled “Organizational Restructuring—Availability of Voluntary Reassignment, Early Out Retirement, and Separation Incentive Payments to ALL ELIGIBLE EMPLOYEES—No Component or Position Exceptions,” which seemed to pressure workers to leave. “A lot of this stuff is intentionally degrading,” Steven said. “They’re trying to do whatever they can to get people to resign.” Recently, he and other field-office staff were told that their jobs were safe because they were “mission critical.” That was reassuring, but only “a little bit.”

When the Equifax search proved inconclusive, Steven told the nonprofit, “I’ll have to put this on the back burner for a bit until I can get some info.” All three of his screens were noisy. In Microsoft Teams, a supervisor was asking for updates on specific cases. Another window showed the names of people waiting in the lobby of the field office, in real time. He stared at a name in the queue. “This one, I’ve been playing phone tag with her,” Steven said. He opened a chat to alert a colleague at the office.

The work is surprisingly personal. A Social Security file contains a lot of intimate information. From a quick glance, Steven can tell where a recipient was born, what language they speak, whether they’d been involved in the child-welfare system, if they are married, whether that marriage had ended as a result of divorce or death. He has some colleagues whose “attitudes suck to high heaven,” caused by a mix of stress and a suspicion of the poor. “I love helping people,” he said. “You’re the first contact for them.”

Next, Steven had to get “on the phones.” Fielding random calls on the S.S.A. hotline isn’t technically part of his job, but he didn’t question the assignment. For several weeks, everyone had been required to help out. “Good morning. Social Security. This is Steven,” he said. “What is your Social Security number, please? All right, starting with your name and date of birth . . .” He wrapped up his first few calls rather quickly. He sent out a missing tax document, scheduled a father for an in-person appointment to get a Social Security card for his baby, and confirmed bank information for a recipient’s direct deposit. A fourth call, involving a lost check, was more complicated. He rubbed his forehead with his thumbs and forefingers.

Steven later received two mass e-mails. The first reminded all S.S.A. employees to send their “mandatory weekly assignment”—the “What Did You Do Last Week” e-mail, with five bullet points summarizing what they had worked on—directly to the government’s Office of Personnel Management, not to anyone in their actual agency. The second one was yet another plea for workers to quit or take early retirement. It warned that some who opted to remain in “non-mission critical positions” might be reassigned to S.S.A. call centers. No definition of “non-mission critical” was offered.

“I just keep wondering, How long can I be doing this?” Steven said. Many years before Trump and DOGE, there was a period when he could not sleep. “The job would cause me to wake up in the middle of the night,” he said. “You know how your brain can’t shut stuff off, or you’re just dreading going in the next day?” He was troubled by certain cases—a girl who had been abused in foster care, only to end up with a grandmother who stole her S.S.I. checks. He was also haunted by the need to reach case quotas, never explicitly stated but often implied. “Cutting corners happens in this industry, when representatives are trying to just get something off their list,” he said. “So then it’s like, ‘I got that done.’ But did you really help the person?” His latest sources of worry were a news article in which O’Malley, the former S.S.A. commissioner, predicted “system collapse and an interruption of benefits” within “thirty to ninety days” and an affidavit by a former agency official that described DOGE’s violation of privacy protocols and the likelihood of “critical errors that could upend SSA systems.”

Steven has never been a zealot for anything except his favorite football team, but now he believes that he and his co-workers are part of an “underground movement” to prevent the destruction of Social Security. Trump and Musk, and more conventional Republicans, talk obsessively about rooting out fraud at the S.S.A. Mistakes and overpayments do occur, but the agency’s inspector general recently found that less than one per cent of benefits distributed between 2015 and 2022 were improper. Steven believes that mass layoffs will result in vulnerable Americans not getting the money they’re entitled to. “We service people at their best and worst times,” he said. “People heading into retirement, surviving spouses, widows, widowers. It used to be we’d get complaints from the public. We’d start off a call by apologizing. ‘We’re understaffed!’ ” Now, he went on, “people are apologizing to us.” ♦

[arkanis-englishupdates]

SUMMARY OF ALL ARKANIS POVs

DAY 2 — 04/09/2024

The day starts with Febatista, Choke, Pac, Guhzera and JVNQ logging first, both started to build their houses/bases or explore looking for resources. JVNQ, Pac and Febatista met to talk, leading the conversation to the topic of robbing the bank. The trio then entered the second floor of the bank stealthily, managing to overhear a conversation between Jota and the Banker (The conversation was about the payment that experts would start receiving for their work). After hearing and being caught by the Banker, Choke appeared and the four start chatting before they go their separate ways.

Suddenly, Febatista receives two books from nowhere, the book 1 called "..." and the book 2 called "Hi dad.", all by "Little son" while building your house. The book 1 contained only the phrase "hi dad..." and the book 2 contained the following text "I really want to meet you... I hope we can one day...". After that, Febatista met with the Mayor and the two had a meeting about this "son" (What the two didn't count on was that Meiaum sneakily followed them and listened to the meeting).

At the meeting, Jota told Febatista that someone who called himself Febatista's son said he would return as soon as his father arrived in the city. Jota also spoke about the tragic end that his parents had (We discovered that Jota's parents were the couple killed in the suspicious fire many years ago).

After that, another situation of building vandalism was reported, part of the museum was blown up, luckily the arts were spared. No one knows who did the crime (Sheriff Jorge and Officer Cléber believe that this incident is linked to the fire at City Hall, which destroyed part of the library and the second floor of City Hall).

Moments later, while Guhzera was in his castle, someone knocked him out and trapped him in a cage in the middle of nowhere. Using their cell phones to ask for help, everyone who was online went to the place where Guhzera was, seeing a book on an altar near the cage. The book contained the following text "Don't try to free my prisoner. The cage is protected with a password... Without knowing it, you all will never be able to get him out."

After much investigation, Bagi discovers that the password is "Bia Raux", managing to free Guhzera from the cage.

At Bira's bar, the owner of the place told Felps, Meiaum, Guaxinim and Himaru that Bia Raux was a person to keep away from, that she also wears a mask and that she only brings chaos to the city. Bira also said that the city used to be bustling, but due to a type of stomach illness, most of the residents died (Masks seem to be a type of protection against this disease, and that all specialists will soon have their own mask). We also discovered that Bira was the one who adopted Jota after the tragedy that occurred with his parents, raising him as if he were his own son.

After that, the day was chaotic as always, with fights between some participants, which have since been resolved, house invasions, etc.

Felps, Guaxinim, Matt and Meiaum also made a plan to invade the second floor of the city hall through the opening caused by the fire, with Felps succeeding with his bunny boots but finding nothing suspicious or important.

Yayahz was also fined for several crimes, having to do community service as a way to pay.

Quelpenna and Maethe were not online that day too.

[If there is something that we haven't reported here, please let us know! There are too many POVs to keep track of accurately.]

[powerful-niya]

— (hαppч єndíngѕ.)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚅𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎'𝚜 𝙳𝚊𝚢 (𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟻)

Link to One-shot Below ↴

Wattpad | AO3

Pairing˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Naruhina 

Synopsis˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡For Hinata, self-care had always felt like an unattainable luxury. Her demanding career as an analyst consumed nearly every waking hour, leaving her with precious little time to relax. 

It was only until one night, during one of her late-night doom scrolls, she stumbled on a massage therapist's website. Desperate for relief, she booked a session, only to discover, in her fatigue, that she accidentally signed up for something far more sensual than she expected.

Content Tags˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Accidental Stimulation • Accidental/Purposeful Touching •  Adult-Life • Aftercare • Aphrodisiac • Body Worship • Breath Play • Butt Groping • Client x Masseur • Consensual • Dirty Talk • Edgeplay • Erotic • Erotic Massage • Erotic Tickling • Explicit • Fantasies & Fantasizing • Fingering • Groping • Hands Kink • Latex Gloves • Lingerie • Lubrication • Massage Therapy • Massage Parlor • Masseur • Modern AU • Multiple Orgasms • NSFW • Oil • Orgasm Denial • Overstimulation • Praise Kink • Pussy Suction Pump (Toys) • Pussy Worship • Self Care • Self Love • Sex Pollen • Sex Toys • Sexual Coercion • Scent Kink • Size Difference Kink • Spa • Stripping • Uniform • Valentine Day • Valentine's Special • Voice Kink • 2025

✨The Masseur and the Analyst✨

Overall Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚23.9K

Tumblr Post: Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚11.6K

Preview ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Hinata let out a long, exhausted sigh as she flopped onto her couch, the cushions embracing her like they did every evening.  

Same time.  

Same routine.  

With a wince, she reached down and kicked off her heels, groaning quietly to herself. 

"How is it that shoes this cute can hurt this much?" She muttered, rubbing her sore feet through her stockings, already thinking it might be time to rethink her shoe choices. 

The soothing effects of her quick massage kicked in almost instantly, sending a wave of relief through her tired muscles. She wiggled her toes, stretching them out, another long, drawn-out sigh escaping her lips from the relief.

This was the moment she'd been waiting for all day—the bliss of being back home, alone, on her favorite couch. 

Hinata reached for the glass of wine she'd poured earlier, her arm extending over the coffee table in her living room. As she picked it up, the glass let out a soft clink that echoed through her otherwise quiet apartment. 

She brought the glass to her lips and took a slow sip, savoring the way the sweet, tangy flavor danced across her tongue. A soft, contented moan escaped her as the taste settled, a warmth blooming in her chest, taking away just a bit of the tension she'd been carrying all day.

Next, she reached for her laptop, placing it on her lap before flipping it open.

The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face, revealing a familiar sight—her wallpaper, a swarm of vibrant monarch butterflies drifting gracefully across a bright blue sky, with the password prompt hovering in the center. 

For a moment longer than she intended, her gaze was trained on that single word, for far too long, as if it had trapped her in a trance. Once again, she was zoning out—a new habit she'd unknowingly picked up.

And honestly? At this point, it didn't even surprise her anymore.

Her brain was still tangled up in the stress of the day, the never-ending to-do lists swirling in her head. Even something as mindless as logging in to her laptop felt like a chore after the chaos she'd just endured.  

The endless flood of emails.  

The mountain of spreadsheets.  

The constant need to come up with fresh ideas for campaigns.

The deadlines of projects and presentations that never stopped creeping closer.  

And of course, the back-to-back meetings—most of which seemed to exist purely so her boss could hear himself talk.  

Hinata let out a frustrated groan just thinking about it all. 

"Another day down," She muttered under her breath, "You survived, girl. You did it."

She had to keep reminding herself of that—because if she didn't, she might actually lose her mind.  

Sure, being a marketing analyst had its perks—a solid paycheck, decent benefits, and a title that sounded impressive in conversations. But lately, the downsides were creeping in, threatening to overshadow everything else. The grueling hours, the relentless workload, the constant pressure to stay ahead—it all piled up until it felt like there was no escape. 

More often than not, she found herself staying late at the office, trying to catch up, or lugging her work home with her, her laptop becoming a permanent fixture on her coffee table. Even after officially "clocking out," the demands of her job seemed to follow her everywhere. There was always something that needed tweaking, always something that demanded her attention. 

Therefore, she barely had a second to catch her breath, let alone carve out time for a real break. It was exhausting, and tonight, it was hitting her harder than ever.  

At twenty-seven, Hinata had worked tirelessly to climb the career ladder. She had been raised to believe that success meant dedication, that her career should come first, and that giving anything less than her best simply wasn't an option. And she had—she'd poured her all into her work, proving her worth in every way she could.  

But lately… she couldn't ignore how much it was starting to take a toll on everything—her mind, her body, her entire life outside of work. And if she was being honest, she wasn't even sure she had much of a life outside of it anymore.

Her social life? Yeah, that was pretty much dead in the water.

Most of her friends had either moved away, gotten caught up in their own careers, or settled down with partners. Group texts had become fewer, invites to dinners or game nights were rare, and even the occasional check-in messages had slowed to a trickle. 

It wasn't anyone's fault—it was just life—but that didn't make it any easier. 

Far too often, Hinata found herself trapped in the same endless cycle: slogging through long, draining hours at work, then slipping into her quiet apartment, popping a frozen dinner into the microwave, and finally collapsing onto the couch all alone. And before she knew it, the next day would roll around, and the routine would start all over again. 

Work, eat, sleep, repeat.

A steady routine she had fallen into without even realizing it.

And her love life? Ugh. That was a whole other disaster she didn't even want to think about.  

At this point, it felt like a lost cause. Not because she didn't want something real, or meaningful—but because, honestly? 

She had no idea where to even begin.  

It wasn't for lack of trying. She'd been on a few dates, met men through her coworkers, and even attempted the whole dating app thing. 

But nothing ever clicked.

The conversations always felt awkward and forced—no spark, no chemistry, no connection. By the end of the night, she'd catch herself glancing at the clock over and over, mentally counting down the minutes until she could finally head home.

And, of course, the main reason so many dates fell flat usually boiled down to one simple fact: she was just exhausted.

Between the demands of her job and everything else on her plate, the idea of pouring any energy into a relationship felt downright overwhelming.

Hinata craved something more—she really did. But when it came time to figure out how to achieve that, she found herself completely stuck.

This…was her life now. 

Work, then returning home, only to trap herself in a quiet room for hours with no one to talk to, to share a day's thoughts with, or simply sit beside and unwind. She constantly reassured herself that it was only temporary, that eventually, things would get better. But after a few years of this daily routine, it became harder and harder to believe in that promise. 

No conversation, no company... 

….well, not entirely no company.

A soft rustling near the entrance of the living room caught her attention, and just as expected, her chubby Scottish Fold sauntered her way in, looking as if she owned the place. 

Mochi—her cat.

Within seconds, the little white bundle of fluff hopped up beside her, curling into a warm ball against her side just like she always did when she arrived home. It was her way of saying 'welcome back', though she suspected she was also angling for a treat.

Hinata reached out to scratch her head, her fingers brushing through her soft, white fur.

She let out a weary sigh.

"Mochi, why is life like this? All work, no fun," She murmured softly, her fingers trailing behind her ears before gliding down to the delicate curve of her neck, brushing against the smooth leather of her pretty pink collar.

The fluffy tabby let out a slow, unimpressed meow, flicking her tail as if she completely agreed.

She chuckled softly, nodding her head, "Yeah," She murmured, more to herself than to her, "maybe I really do need a break."

With another sigh, she logged into her computer, settling in for what she knew would be yet another hour of mindless scrolling. It was a habit at this point—cycling through the same social media websites, half-reading articles she didn't care about, and watching videos she'd forget about in five minutes. 

She wasn't exactly sure what she was looking for—maybe some distraction, maybe just something to keep her from thinking too much. 

Whatever it was, it didn't matter. 

Time blurred as her fingers lazily flicked away at the touchpad, her thoughts drifting.  

Then, something caught her eye.  

As she casually browsed through an article, a pop-up ad suddenly appeared in the corner of her screen, its bold text practically shouting for her attention:

"Relax & Rejuvenate: Indulge In What Makes You Feel Good."

"Pamper Yourself With A Massage Today!"

Hinata's scrolling came to an abrupt halt. 

The invitation in those words were so direct, so tempting, that she couldn't help but pause, curiosity already bubbling up inside her.

And then she saw…him.

Below the text was the smiling face of a blonde masseur, his bright grin and sparkling blue eyes seeming to invite her to click. 

And, well, how could she not?

Before she could second-guess herself, her cursor hovered over the ad, and with a small click, she was in. The website loaded in instantly, and at the very top, in bold, playful lettering, the header proudly declared:

"Welcome to Happy Endings! We hope you enjoy us rubbing you to completion!"

Hinata blinked, a faint flush creeping up her neck. 

Wait. What?

'Did it really just say that?' She thought, her lavender eyes darting back over the words again. 

She hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or close the tab, but something about the rather… interesting heading—and that smiling blonde from before—made her keep scrolling.

Looking further, the website's design was actually very calming—pastel shades, gentle layouts, and photos of plush towels draped over immaculate tables in dim, candlelit rooms that screamed "relaxation."

As Hinata scrolled, she noticed glowing reviews everywhere she looked. People couldn't stop raving about how professional the staff was, how laid-back the place felt, and how every last ache and knot in their bodies were thoroughly worked out by the end of their sessions.

Her own neck gave a little twinge then, almost on cue. She let out a small sigh, rubbing the tender spot without even thinking about it.

"Maybe this is what I need..." She mumbled to herself, one hand idly stroking her dozing cat, while the other scroll further down the site. Her gaze wandered over the staff bios, each one blending into the next until suddenly, one name caught her eye.

Naruto Uzumaki. Owner.

Hinata froze, heart skipping a beat.

Wait a minute. That man. 

It was the same one from before. 

Sure enough, the smiling blonde in the photo was the exact same man she'd seen in the ad earlier—the blonde, blue-eyed heartthrob. 

Everything about him looked impeccably put-together. 

His blonde hair was styled just right, and he wore a crisp white collared shirt paired with neatly pressed matching pants, arms folded confidently over his chest. The fabric couldn't quite hide the subtle swell of muscle underneath, like it was almost ready to burst free.

Then there was that laid-back grin, lighting up his oddly whiskered face, showing off a row of perfect, pearly whites. Hinata found herself momentarily forgetting to breathe, her pulse quickening ever so slightly as she took in the sight of him.

"Ooh, what do we have here…" She muttered, nibbling on her lip as she shifted on the couch, trying to get comfy. Her gaze traveled over the screen, maybe lingering a little too long on the handsome blonde's picture before drifting down to read the description beneath it.

Naruto Uzumaki – Owner & Lead Masseur 

With years of hands-on experience, Naruto prides himself on delivering personalized treatments that target tension right at its source. Known for his warm smile and knack for making clients feel instantly at ease, he's earned a reputation for melting away even the most stubborn knots. Whether you're looking for deep relaxation or a rejuvenating stress release

Naruto's technique promises to leave you feeling renewed—inside and out. 

Hinata blinked. Inside and out?

Oh wow. He wasn't messing around.  

The words hung there, heavy in her mind, making her pulse speed up a little and her flush deepen. 

She read it again. 

Deep relaxation. Stress release. Inside and out.

Then, she read the words again, this time more slowly. 

Deep... Release... Inside and out.

Her brain did that little jumpy thing where it started overthinking the phrasing, but she shoved that aside. 

It was probably nothing, right? Just a weird, slightly suggestive choice of words. 

Hinata's mind drifted as she absently scrolled through the list of massage options available at Happy Endings. Most were the standard selections—deep tissue, Swedish, Shiatsu. Then there were others—hot stone, aromatherapy, lymphatic drainage, reflexology.

Then there were other traditional choices—hot stone, aromatherapy, lymphatic drainage, and reflexology. But as she scrolled further, something changed.

The options took a more… intimate turn.

Nuru.

Tantric.

Her fingers paused.

But then—there was one more.

One that stood out even more.

"Happy Ending Massage."

Hinata tilted her head, squinting at the screen.

Wait a second—wasn't that the name of the massage parlor? Happy Ending? Or was it Happy Endings with an s?

Hinata blinked, her mind momentarily stalling as she tried to recall. She could have sworn it was one or the other, but in that moment, the thought barely stuck. Because right now, she was too caught up—too distracted—by the massage option staring her in the face.

Her head tilted slightly as she skimmed the title again. 

Happy Ending Massage.

Was this some kind of premium, all-inclusive service? A special, all-in-one package that combined multiple techniques? 

Or… was it something else?

Her fingers tapped lightly against the laminated page, her curiosity deepening. It almost sounded like a massage buffet, offering a little bit of everything. But if that were the case, why was there such an emphasis on the word erotic?

Hinata shrugged it off. 

She wasn't in the mood to question it further. She was simply too tired. All she needed right now was some serious relief—no more thinking, no more working, just... happy endings.

A massage was a massage, right? 

And this one sounded too promising to pass up.

So, with a resigned sigh, Hinata clicked the "Book Now" button without a second thought.  

Almost instantly, a new page loaded, filled to the brim with a mountain of terms and conditions, liability waivers, and an endless stack of permission forms—medical questionnaires, health disclosure agreements, and all that fun, legally binding jazz.

Bleary-eyed and on autopilot, Hinata mindlessly began scrolling through the fine print. The words blended together, a mess of legal jargon and checkboxes, her brain struggling to process anything beyond Sign Here and Agree to Terms & Conditions.

At some point—she wasn't even sure when—her head drooped forward, her fingers idly hovering over her keyboard. She must have dozed off mid-form, because the next thing she knew, her chin jerked up, her lavender eyes blinking rapidly as she realized she had half-filled out a few fields in her sleep.

"Ugh, get it together, Hinata…" She mumbled, rubbing at her eyes before forcing herself to finish the last few entries.

Once she reached the booking calendar, she expected to have plenty of options to choose from—but instead, her heart sank.

Nearly every single appointment was booked solid.

The entire week. The next week. Even some of the week after that.

Hinata's lips parted in disbelief, her finger scrolling frantically, hoping for at least one opening that wasn't weeks away.

And then—

There it was.

A single available slot.

Next Saturday.

Hinata sighed in relief, clicking on the time slot before finalizing the appointment. 

"Yes, next Saturday should work," She murmured to herself, already feeling a sense of anticipation creep in. 

With the booking confirmed, she finally shut her laptop, officially calling it a night.

"Turn left in 300 meters," the GPS announced, its crisp, robotic voice cutting effortlessly through the soft hum of the car's engine.

Hinata's fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel, keeping time with the upbeat melody playing through the radio. 

Moonlight Magic by Kana Hanazawa.

It was one of her favorites, a feel-good tune that perfectly matched the excitement buzzing in her chest.

Needless to say, she was in a fantastic mood. 

Because today wasn't just any Saturday.

Today was the Saturday.

After two grueling, endless weeks of back-to-back work, mind-numbing reports, and more emails than any human should ever have to deal with, the weekend had finally arrived—and Hinata was practically buzzing.

Sure, she always looked forward to the weekend. Who didn't? It was the one time she could actually unwind and escape from her responsibilities, at least for 48 hours. But this weekend?

This weekend was different.

This weekend was special.

Because in just a few short minutes, she would be arriving at 'Happy Endings' massage parlor for an appointment she had barely been able to stop thinking about since she booked it. It was the one thing that kept her going through the relentless chaos of work for the past two weeks.

But now, it was finally here! 

Grinning from ear to ear, Hinata shimmy-shimmied with excitement in her seat, her hands gripping the wheel of her Toyota Prius as it cruised through the bustling Tokyo streets. The GPS kept its steady stream of directions, guiding her through the lively maze of urban lights and busy crosswalks, all leading to the address provided by the 'Happy Endings' website.

Although some of the details were a bit fuzzy, Hinata distinctly remembered booking her appointment for 6:30 p.m.—a time that was a little later than she'd usually prefer. But since it was the only slot available, she just refused to pass up the chance. 

Her excitement was only further confirmed when a sweet notification from 'Happy Endings' flashed on her phone, reaffirming her 6:30 p.m. appointment.

⸻

 Hello there! 

Your 'Happy Ending' massage appointment is all set for Saturday, February 4th at 6:30 p.m. Can't wait to see you then! 

Chosen Masseur: Naruto Uzumaki.

⸻

Hinata's gaze drifted to the message on her phone, securely mounted on the dashboard. Her lavender eyes flicked from the road to the final line of text, and a smile lit up her face.

Of course, she had specifically booked Naruto himself as her masseur. Well…duh.

Not only was she craving some serious relief, but a small, secret part of her was excited to finally meet Naruto in person. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd look as hot up close as he did in his photos, because, you know, people sometimes turn out looking differently in real life. 

Fingers crossed that her heavenly massage would come with a side of handsome company too. 

She shimmied again, a soft, bubbly giggle escaping her lips.

"Up ahead, turn left," the GPS reminded her again, cutting her thoughts short. 

Following the GPS's directions and the familiar blue light, which signified 'go' in Japan, Hinata smoothly veered the steering wheel to the left. Her lavender eyes flitted between the road ahead and the beautiful city unfolding outside her window.

The daylight had faded, and now the evening had taken over Tokyo, yet the city was just as alive as ever. Everywhere she looked, the streets were filled with people—so many people, each wrapped up in their own little worlds. 

In the gentle glow of the city lights, she could see couples strolling hand-in-hand, friends laughing over drinks at sidewalk cafés, and office workers in crisp suits hurrying between evening meetings, glancing at their watches as they went about their business.

She let out a soft sigh. 

On a typical weekday, that would have been her—darting around in those same damn heels, rushing from one errand to the next, only to end up glued to her desk. There, she'd be slogging through endless emails, drowning in spreadsheets, and later in the evening sitting through meetings with people whose personalities were as bland as the coffee they sipped. And then there was the work itself—

Hinata shook her head, her brows knitting together. 

'What am I doing? Why am I even thinking about that?' She thought to herself, tightening her hands around the steering wheel. 

No, today's supposed to be different. 

Today was about letting go, not obsessing over the hectic chaos of the weeks behind her. 

She didn't even want to dwell on that. 

It was finally the end of the week—and that was what she should focus on. Today was all about giving herself the break she so desperately needed. 

That's all that mattered now. 

With that thought in mind, her radiant smile returned—just in time, too.

"Your destination is to your left," the GPS announced. Hinata whipped her head to the left so quickly that it nearly snapped, her eyes darting back and forth until she spotted it.

"Happy Endings."

Her heart did a little flip inside her chest. 

There it was—the massage parlor, standing alone and framed beautifully by the soft pink petals of blooming sakura trees. Above the entrance, an illuminated sign elegantly spelled out "Happy Endings" on a finely crafted wooden board, its glow cutting softly through the dimming light of the setting sun.

The building itself was a warm brown structure, its windows tucked behind gentle, pale wooden sliding shutters. Below the sign were expansive glass panels, and Hinata noticed they were slightly fogged, likely from the warmth inside.

"Hm, quaint," She murmured, a delighted smile curling at her plump lips. The parlor sat on a small, well-maintained lot, and while a few cars were already parked, it wasn't crowded—just enough to tell her this little gem was a favorite among the locals. 

It was yet another reassuring sign that "Happy Endings" was exactly where she needed to be.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hinata guided her car into the parking lot and carefully selected a spot to ease into. Once she parked, she switched off the engine and slumped back in her seat, letting the quiet wash over her for a moment. 

Just for a moment. 

Hinata took another deep breath.

This was it—her moment to finally treat herself to her very first massage.

In a burst of excitement, she sprung up in her seat and broke into a little shimmy dance right there in the car. 

"Yas, I'm really doing this!" Hinata squealed to herself, the excitement bubbling over. She knew it might seem a bit childish—if anyone happened to see her shimmying around in her car, they'd probably think she'd lost her mind.

But at that moment, she couldn't care less. 

The mere thought of finally treating herself, actually prioritizing self-care, had her heart racing. She felt empowered, beyond belief. 

And she couldn't help but squeal again with joy.

'Fingers crossed that everything turns out perfectly.' She mused with glee. With that hopeful thought in mind, she grabbed her purse and keys, swung open the car door, and finally stepped out into the cool, evening breeze. 

Hinata swung open the heavy wooden door of Happy Endings, and a gentle bell chimed above, announcing her arrival. 

Steeping inside, her lavender eyes roamed around, first catching the flicker of artfully placed candles, then drifting upward to see delicate lanterns hanging overhead, casting playful shadows on the immaculate white walls and plush brown furniture. 

The reception area. 

Somewhere in the background, she could hear the soothing strains of gentle piano music playing, flowing seamlessly with the delicate trickle of water from a nearby fountain.

It was perfect.

Exactly what she had imagined stepping into a massage parlor.

Right then, she was already giving Happy Endings major props; she felt truly welcomed. And as she looked around, everything was impeccably clean—another good sign. 

Hinata took a sniff at the air, and the scent that greeted her was exactly what she had hoped for. The sweet aroma of incense floated around her, clean and pure, like melted vanilla, instantly soothing her senses.

Making her way to the front desk, she noticed an ornate wooden counter where a statuesque woman with neatly pinned grey hair sat. The receptionist's piercing emerald eyes met hers as she glanced up from a ledger, a welcoming smile spreading across her face.

"Welcome to Happy Endings," She greeted warmly, "I'm Mabui. How may I assist you today?"

Hinata's fingers tightened slightly around the strap of her purse, nerves fluttering in her chest.

"Hi, Mabui-san," She said softly, "I have an appointment scheduled for 6:30 p.m."

Mabui turned gracefully in her chair and began scrolling through her computer. After a brief pause, she looked up with a friendly smile.

"Hinata Hyūga, correct?"

"Hai, that's me," Hinata replied softly.

"Wonderful! Is this your first time visiting us by any chance?" Mabui asked, her eyes crinkling with genuine interest.

Hinata nodding slightly, nervously twirling a strand of her long, midnight blue hair around her finger, "Hai… it's my first time," She admitted softly, her voice barely above a murmur.

The moment those words left her lips, Mabui's expression brightened instantly. Her features softened with warmth, and a wide, beaming smile stretched across her caramel-toned face. 

"Oh, how exciting!" Mabui practically gushed, her excitement spilling over like warm honey, "We're absolutely thrilled to have you here, Hinata-san. There's nothing we love more than welcoming new visitors!" 

Hinata couldn't help but let out a soft giggle, the corners of her lips tugging upward her nerves loosening just a little.

Mabui's enthusiasm was downright infectious, filling the space between them with a warmth that eased some of the tension knotting in Hinata's chest. There was something about the grey-haired receptionist that put her at ease—like she was talking to an old friend rather than checking in for an appointment.

It was…comforting.

Mabui clasped her hands together, tilting her head slightly, "So, how are you feeling today, darling?" She asked, her voice gentle but curious.

Hinata let out a quiet breath, finally releasing the strand of hair she had been absentmindedly twisting between her fingers, gently tucking it behind her ear.

"Well.." She murmured, glancing down for a brief second before offering a small, sheepish smile, "I'm a little nervous… but mostly excited. I've never done anything like this before."

Mabui let out a soft, knowing chuckle, waving a hand in reassurance, "Oh, that's completely normal, Hinata-san. Your first time can feel a little overwhelming, but trust me—you're in excellent hands. We always strive to make sure our guests feel right at home."

Rolling slightly in her chair, Mabui continued, "Now, let's get you checked in, shall we?" She pointed to a sign-in sheet on the counter and handed Hinata a pen. 

"Just sign here," She said with a friendly smile, "Once you're finished, go ahead and make yourself comfortable in our lounge—just over there." She motioned to her right, where a cute sign labeled "Lounging Area" hung from the ceiling, swaying ever so slightly.

Hinata hummed softly, giving a small nod of acknowledgment.

"I'll let you know when Naruto-san is ready for your session," Mabui reassured her, her warm smile remaining constant, never faltering for even a moment.

Turning back to the counter, Hinata reached for the pen, her fingers tightening around it as she quickly signed her name on the sheet. The motion was quick—almost too quick—her excitement getting the best of her, making her strokes a little sloppier than usual.

She exhaled softly, willing her hand to steady, but it was useless. The anticipation was impossible to ignore, tingling in her fingertips, curling in her stomach, making her handwriting a touch messier than she would have liked.

Still, she pressed on, finishing the last loop of her signature with a final flourish before setting the pen down with a quiet clink against the counter. Once she finished, she glanced up just in time to see Mabui sliding a clipboard toward her, a few neatly stacked forms clipped securely at the top.

"These are our consent forms," Mabui explained smoothly, "You should have already signed them when you booked your appointment online, but we keep a physical copy here just as a precaution. Go ahead and read through them carefully, please."

Hinata blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but quickly reached out to take the clipboard.

"Oh, okay," She murmured, her fingers running along the edges of the papers as she skimmed the fine print. 

"Arigato, Mabui-san."

"Of course, take your time," Mabui said kindly, "If you have any questions, I'm right here. And if you need anything—a bottle of water, a little snack, or even a towel—everything is available in our lounge and ready for you to enjoy. Also..."

Mabui reached for a small, elegantly designed pamphlet resting on the counter, her manicured fingers gliding over its glossy cover before setting it down on the clipboard cradled in Hinata's arms.

"Here's a handy guide outlining the services we offer here," She said smoothly, her emerald eyes glinting with amusement. Then, with a playful wink, she added, "Also it can act as a little refresher—especially for the treatment you selected."

Hinata accepted it with a grateful smile, her fingers skimming the edges as she held it close.

"Thank you," She murmured, just about to turn away when—

"Oh, and Hinata-san?"

Mabui's voice stopped her mid-step.

"Hm?" Hinata blinked, glancing back over her shoulder.

Mabui was leaning over the counter now, her arms folded, an unreadable smirk curling at her lips—one that didn't quite sit well with Hinata. 

"And I must say," the grey haired receptionist purred, tilting her head slightly, "you made a fantastic choice picking Naruto-san as your masseur."

Hinata's breath hitched, her fingers twitching around the clipboard in her hands.

Mabui's smirk deepened, and with a slow, seductive shimmy in her chair, she added, "He'll treat you real nice."

Hinata's entire body ignited.

A squeak—an actual, audible squeak—escaped her lips much to her utter embarrassment. 

Oh, kami.

Heat rushed to her cheeks so fast she thought she might faint right there on the spot. Bowing her head in a desperate attempt to hide her flustered expression, she muttered a rushed, breathless, "A-Arigato," before making the quickest escape of her life.

Her feet carried her toward the lounge in record time, her heart hammering against her ribs.

It was nothing. 

Mabui was just teasing. Right?

Right…?

She bit her lip, shaking the thought off—or at least she tried to. But thankfully, before it could spiral any further, something else quickly stole her attention.

The lounge.

The moment she stepped inside, her eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise.

The space was just as cozy as the reception area—if not cozier—like walking into the inviting warmth of someone's personal living room.

Soft, plush brown couches lined the walls, each one adorned with an array of decorative pillows and neatly draped throw blankets that practically called to her. A few guests were already nestled into them, lounging with their eyes closed or flipping lazily through magazines.

Candles were scattered everywhere, their soft, flickering glow giving the room an extra warm vibe just like the reception area. In the far corner, a small TV was mounted on the wall, its screen displaying a Japanese cooking show. 

Hinata's gaze flicked toward it absentmindedly—until she recognized it.

Rokuhoudou: Colorful Days.

A small smile tugged at her lips. 

She had watched that show before—its soothing aesthetic and cozy storytelling had always been a comfort to her. Something about the way the men brewed coffee and prepared traditional sweets with such care in their cafe made her feel at peace. 

Food was her comfort, after all. That includes food shows too. 

But before she got too caught up in watching, her attention shifted again.

In the center of the lounge sat a neatly arranged table, stacked with an assortment of magazines and informational packets from the parlor—perfect for passing the time while waiting.

Her eyes then landed on a mini-fridge nestled against the wall, its glass door revealing rows of bottled water, iced coffee, herbal teas, and a variety of other refreshments. On top, a selection of snacks was carefully arranged in small, decorative bowls—crisp senbei rice crackers, zesty wasabi peas, and neatly lined packs of Pocky, their colorful packaging catching her eye.

Of course, Hinata couldn't resist the lure of food. 

She strolled over, helped herself to a bottle of water, a pack of Pocky, and a handful of senbei crackers, then joined the three other visitors lounging nearby. Settling into her seat, she spent her time happily nibbling on her snack while skimming through the consent forms and the massage parlor packet she was given. 

Time slipped away without her even noticing, and before Hinata knew it, two of the other visitors had been called for their sessions, leaving the lounge quieter than before. Still nestled in her seat, she absentmindedly nibbled on a cracker, her fingers flipping through the massage packet resting in her lap.

"Deep tissue," She murmured under her breath, her eyes scanning the description with mild curiosity.

She turned the page.

"Swedish," She whispered next, her voice barely above a breath as she skimmed the details. Page after page, she continued, taking her time—until her fingers froze mid-turn.

Her breath hitched.

There it was.

A section marked in elegant, curling script: Happy Endings.

Her massage selection.

Her lavender eyes skimmed the description, reading it over carefully. But it wasn't the title that caught her attention.

No.

It was that word again—bolded, standing out above the rest. Erotic.

Hinata stared, her throat suddenly dry.

Wait. 

What…?

"Hinata Hyūga?"

The sound of her name cut clean through the quiet lull of the lounge, disrupting the gentle murmur of the television and the soothing trickle of the water fountain.

"Eeeek!" She squeaked, jolting upright. Her head snapped up so violently she almost saw stars, whiplash be damned, her breath catching somewhere between her lungs and throat. Her wide, startled eyes darted across the room, frantically searching for the source of the voice. 

And the moment she spotted the culprit, her heart skipped a beat. 

Oh. My. Kami.

There, standing in the open doorway of the lounge, clipboard in hand, was him.

Naruto Uzumaki.

Her chosen masseur.

Her breath hitched, her lips parting slightly as an unexpected rush of warmth crawled up her spine.

There he was.

The same man whose face was plastered all over Happy Endings' website, boasting a flawless five-star rating and glowing reviews praising his "heavenly touch" and "unmatched expertise." The very same man she had shamelessly ogled—the one responsible for her booking this appointment in the first place.

And now, seeing him in person?

He was absolutely breathtaking.

More so than she ever could have imagined.

His blonde hair was styled just as neatly as in the photos, strands brushed back, revealing every sharp, chiseled angle of his face. He was dressed in crisp white scrubs, the color standing out against his tanned skin. The fabric was loose but did little to hide the definition of his toned body. 

And those eyes.

Even from across the room, they were striking—a piercing, ocean-blue, framed by dark lashes. 

He looked every bit the professional, but there was an undeniable ruggedness to him, something effortless about the way he carried himself. 

Something that made Hinata's pulse skip violently.

For a moment too long, she just sat there like an idiot, staring, too stunned to move. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she watched him scan the room, flipping through his clipboard, eyes flicking over the other guests with a casual confidence.

"Hinata Hyūga? Do we have a Hinata Hyūga here?"

That snapped her out of it.

"Oh—shoot, that's me!" She whispered under her breath, springing to her feet so quickly she almost knocked over the pamphlet in her lap. 

"Yes! That's me!" She called, her voice bubbling with excitement and just a hint of embarrassment.

Naruto's head turned sharply, his lips curling into a broad, easygoing grin the moment his eyes met hers. 

"Ah—there she is!" He let out a warm chuckle, playfully tapping his clipboard against his palm before pointing at her, "You were hiding from me, Hinata-san."

Hinata's face burned. 

"Oh no! I just—got a little caught up," She laughed nervously, hurriedly gathering her things. She quickly stuffed her snack, the bottle of water, and the massage packet into her purse, before reaching for the forms. 

Before she could grab them, Naruto lifted a hand in a casual beckon. 

"You can bring those with you," He said with a nod, "If you have any questions while you finish looking them over, feel free to ask."

His voice.

Kami, his voice.

Smooth like melted butter. 

Hinata swallowed, offering a small nod as she picked up the clipboard, clutching it against her chest, "Oh, um—actually, I already filled everything out online, so…" Her words trailed off as she glanced up at him, unsure if she needed to do anything else.

Naruto's lips curled into a grin, eyes gleaming with approval, "Perfect! That means we can get things rolling then," He said, then pointed at the clipboard of forms in her possession, "You can leave that there on the table, I'll have someone come by and confiscate it shortly. 

Hinata nodded, setting the clipboard back down on the table. 

Naruto stepped back slightly, gesturing for her to follow.

Hinata managed a small, shy smile in return before she did just that—slipping toward the open door he held for her. Once she stepped through and the door softly closed behind her, the blonde masseur turned to greet her properly, extending his hand. 

For a split second, Hinata hesitated—but then, she reached out, her fingers slipping into his. 

His grip was firm, warm, steady. 

Hinata's heart was pounding so hard she almost forgot to breathe.

Because—oh, kami—his hand was in hers.

Big. Warm. Strong.

Thick, blue veins traced along his tanned skin, his fingers easily dwarfing hers.

She couldn't look away.

Her breath hitched as he gave her hand a gentle rock, his thumb grazing over her knuckles so naturally, that her body responded before her mind could catch up.

A simple handshake.

But why did it feel like so much more?

His touch was already doing something to her, his fingers easing the tension from her knuckles, smoothing out stress she hadn't even realized she was carrying.

Like it was second nature to him.

Like he already knew exactly how to take care of her.

"It's so nice to meet you, Hinata-san," Naruto greeted, blsessing her ears with that voice of his again. So smooth and warm—everything she wasn't prepared for.

"As you probably know, I'm Naruto Uzumaki—the owner of Happy Endings and the head massage therapist here."

And then—finally—he let go.

Hinata's fingers twitched, tingling with the warmth he left behind, still buzzing from the lingering press of his palm against hers.

"Since it's your first time with us," Naruto continued, flipping open his clipboard, "do you have any questions or concerns so far?"

Hinata barely heard him.

She was still stuck on his hands.

The same hands that—soon—would be working their magic on her body.

Touching her.

Cupping her.

Massaging her.

Her lips parted, her throat tightening, her mind spiraling far too fast in a direction she hadn't anticipated.

And Naruto just stood there. 

Waiting.

Expecting an answer.

Oh, kami.

She needed to get it together.

"Mmm…" Hinata murmured, barely able to string words together, but then she caught the sound of his soft chuckle. 

Embarrassment fluttered through her, and she quickly snapped out of it, her cheeks burning bright red. 

"I—I mean, yes, I do have a few questions," She stammered, desperately trying to regain her composure—to erase that embarrassing little sound she had just made from existence.

Her fingers fidgeted against the strap of her purse, her brain scrambling for something—anything—to shift the focus.

"Also, thank you for giving me this opportunity, and—"

Hinata dipped into a polite bow, her hands nervously smoothing over the fabric of her skirt as she forced a shy but genuine smile.

"It's really great to finally meet you, Naruto-san."

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, rich and warm.

"Aww, you're gonna make a grown man blush," He teased, shaking his head with an easy grin, "You're really sweet, Hinata-san, but," his smirk tilted, "there's no need for any formality."

His gaze flickered over her, his smile warming up. 

"I'm here for you, not the other way around."

Hinata bit her lip.

Oh, if only he knew…

In a way, she was here for him.

Sort of.

Maybe just a little.

…Okay, maybe a lot.

The mere thought sent a flutter through her stomach, and before she could rein it in, her shoulders stiffened as she straightened from her bow, standing tall once more.

Naruto caught it instantly.

His sharp blue eyes flickered with knowing amusement, his head tilting slightly as he studied her reaction like she was a puzzle he was itching to figure out.

"Aww, Hinata-san," He drawled, "Relax." 

His smirk softened just a fraction, just enough to make her heart trip over itself.

"This is your time. Your session," He reminded her, voice dipping lower, smoother. "You don't have to be so stiff with me, sweetheart."

Hinata nearly choked on air.

Sweetheart.

Oh, no.

She wasn't ready.

Not for that.

Not for him.

Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

Absolutely nothing.

Just the relentless pounding of her heart in her ears, drowning out every coherent thought she had left.

"O-Oh…" was all she managed, a breathless, pathetic little whimper. 

Naruto let out another amused chuckle. 

He took a casual step around her, then tilted his head toward the hallway, gesturing with a flick of his fingers.

"Come, Hinata-san," He murmured, that damn smirk still in place. 

"Follow me.

His shoes made a steady, confident thump as he guided her onward, each step echoing softly against the glazed wooden floor. Every sound—the soft creak of the boards, the gentle rustle of his uniform as he moved, even the faint tap of his clipboard against his palm—seemed heightened, magnified by the stillness around them.

Hinata followed, her lashes fluttering as she stole secret glances at him from the corner of her eye.

Ahead, the hallway was dimly lit, a long, narrow corridor lined with closed massage rooms on either side. Lanterns flickered above, their soft golden glow reflecting off the pristine walls. The air was filled with the scent of warm vanilla and lavender, a nice and calming scent—and yet, her heart refused to settle.

Every step forward sent a fresh pulse of anticipation through Hinata, her heart racing, tightening, twisting.

And then—Naruto stopped.

He gestured toward an open doorway, stepping aside with a relaxed nod, "This room's all yours," He said, motioning for her to enter, his clipboard resting casually against his forearm.

Hesitantly, Hinata stepped inside.

The moment she did, her breath caught in her throat.

The room was… breathtaking. Private. Intimate.

A warm, golden glow filled the dimly lit room, the lanterns above casting a gentle spotlight on the massage table in the center. It was draped in crisp, freshly pressed white sheets, with a stack of neatly folded towels resting at the foot, practically calling out to her. 

The entire space was designed for pure tranquility—soft, neutral tones of beige, cream, and warm browns. Graceful bamboo plants in round pots stood tall in each corner—an addition to the room Hinata found particularly beautiful.

A sleek countertop lined the far wall, showcasing an array of oils and lotions, their delicate glass bottles gleaming under the soft candlelight.

Just beside it, a small sink sat nestled between carefully arranged décor—a vase filled with fresh flowers, a glowing salt lamp, and a trio of scented candles. 

Then… there was the scent.

Hinata inhaled deeply, the rich notes of citrus and amber swirling in the air, but something else overtook it.

Him.

The moment Naruto stepped in behind her, his cologne rushed in and dominated the small space—a deep, intoxicating blend of sandalwood and spice. 

Rich. Warm. Undeniably masculine.

Her breath hitched.

Kami, he was already too much.

"Take a seat for me," Naruto instructed, waving his clipboard over towards the massage table. 

Hinata hesitated yet again, fingers fidgeting with the strap of her purse, before obeying. As she walked past him, she caught another subtle whiff of his cologne—stronger now, closer. It was the kind of scent that lingered, the kind that made it dangerously hard to focus.

Naruto followed her inside, his movements fluid, relaxed as he closed the door behind them with a soft click.

She took slow, tentative steps toward the massage table, her fingers brushing over the pristine white sheets before settling herself at the edge.

This was it.

In just a few moments, she would be right here, stretched out beneath his touch, his hands. 

The thought sent a wave of nervous excitement through her, her stomach tightening, her pulse thrumming in her ears. But she barely had time to dwell on it before she heard the rush of water.

Naruto had moved to the sink, rolling up the sleeves of his white uniform, revealing strong, tanned forearms, corded with lean muscle. He turned on the faucet, letting the heat build before pumping a generous amount of soap into his hands.

"Alright," He murmured, rubbing his palms together, creating a rich lather, "Before we get started, let's go over those questions of yours," He glanced over his shoulder at her, a teasing smirk playing at his lips.

"Hm?"

Hinata's mouth gaped slightly, her fingers gripping the edge of the table just a little tighter.

Kami.

How was she supposed to think clearly when he looked like that?

Hinata let out a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. 

Just ask. Just ask and get it over with.

"U-Um…" She started, her voice wobbling a little too high, "I was wondering—could you explain what makes the Happy Ending massage different from the others?"

The words came out too fast, tumbling over each other like they were trying to escape her mouth before she could change her mind.

And then, for some godforsaken reason, she kept talking.

"It's, uh… kind of embarrassing, but this is actually my first massage. Ever."

For a moment—just a fraction of a second—Naruto froze.

His hands hovered under the running water, shoulders stiffening as if he had just heard the most absurd thing in the world. Then, with a quick flick of his wrist, he shut the sink off, a little too aggressively, and whipped around so fast she half-expected him to give himself whiplash.

"Did you just say—?" His voice pitched up slightly, eyebrows shooting sky-high, "Your first massage?"

He shook his head in disbelief, "You're messing with me."

Hinata shrank back slightly, feeling ridiculously called out, "I—um—no?"

Naruto squinted at her as he reached for a towel, drying his damp hands, "Nah. No way. A grown woman like you, never had a massage before? That's illegal. That should be illegal."

Hinata let out a small, nervous laugh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, well… unfortunately, no. I've just never had the time," She admitted, shifting slightly on the table, "I work as a marketing analyst—which is really just a fancy way of saying I sit at a desk all day, hunched over a computer."

Naruto winced playfully, shaking his head, "Oh no, your poor back. That's so tragic, Hinata-san."

"Oh yes, truly tragic," Hinata sighed dramatically, rubbing her lower back for emphasis, "I'd love to tell you otherwise, but honestly—my back gave up on me years ago."

Naruto's lips twitched, and then—he laughed. 

A deep, rich chuckle slipped from his lips, warming the space and her heart along with it. 

Hinata let out a soft, breathy laugh of her own, her shoulders relaxing just a bit—especially after realizing she had managed to make the ridiculously handsome blonde laugh. 

Like, oh my gosh, what?!

She hadn't expected to feel this comfortable so quickly, but something about Naruto's easygoing nature made it impossible not to.

"I just—I don't know," Hinata admitted, gesturing vaguely with her hands, "I figured it was about time I actually did something for myself for once. Then I stumbled across your website, read through the services, and thought, 'Maybe a massage is what I need.'"

Naruto hummed, nodding as he leaned back against the counter, arms crossing over his broad chest, "Hmm, so basically, you were drowning in work, at your wit's end, and in desperate need of some proper relief, yeah?"

Hinata's face heated instantly, "Well—!" She choked, flailing for words before groaning and covering her face with both hands, "Okay, yes! That basically sums it up."

Naruto let out a satisfied chuckle, pushing off the counter, "Well, in that case, let me be the first to say—you made an excellent decision coming here." 

He gestured broadly to the room, arms extended, "Welcome to the world of relaxation, hun."

His grin stretched wider, "And just for the record—" He paused, tilting his head slightly, those soft baby blue eyes locking onto hers. 

"I really appreciate you sharing that with me, Hinata-san."

Hinata beamed, cheeks flushing redder, "O-Of course."

For a brief moment, Naruto just stared her, his expression shifting—not just playful now, but genuinely… intrigued. There was something almost thoughtful in the way his eyes lingered on her, like he replaying the words she said over in his head. 

He hummed in amusement. 

"Now, about that question of yours…" He began, snapping himself out of his thoughts, "The Happy Ending massage option we have available here is… well, let's just say it's in a category of its own."

Hinata bit her lip, her heartbeat stuttering.

Oh. 

The way he said it, the way his voice dropped just a little, made something deep in her chest tighten. She wasn't sure if it was anticipation, nervousness, or just the lingering effect of him thanking her so casually earlier, like she had shared something special. Like he actually cared.

It made her want to kick her feet, and giggle into her hands like a silly, silly schoolgirl.

"It's more erotic, more intimate…" Naruto went on, watching for her reaction.

Hinata caught it—the tail end of what he said, anyway.

Her lips parted slightly, a breath hitching in her throat as her mind whirled, catching up to what he was saying.

"Now, don't get me wrong," He continued, his tone as easygoing as ever, "it still works just like a deep tissue massage."

He lifted a hand, gesturing casually as he spoke, "I'll be working through every muscle—your neck, shoulders, arms, back, legs…" His gaze briefly swept over her, as if mentally charting every spot he'd touch, every area he'd press and knead.

"Loosening up every knot, releasing all that built-up tension you've been carrying."

Hinata nodded slowly, her mind grasping for some sense of normalcy in his explanation.

That… that didn't sound bad.

She did need a deep tissue massage.

Her job had her sitting for hours on end, her muscles locked up so tightly she barely remembered what it felt like to be relaxed. 

So that seemed exactly what she needed. 

But then, she looked up and noticed the blonde masseur's smirk changed.

Not drastically.

Just slightly.

His gaze turned a shade darker, something undeniably suggestive flashing behind his blue eyes.

"But the key difference of the Happy Ending massage option," He continued, his voice dipping lower, "is at the very end of your session."

Hinata's brows furrowed, confusion flashing across her face.

"The end?"

Naruto chuckled softly.

"Hai. At the very end—especially for you—" His eyes locked onto hers, unwavering, "I'm going to wrap it all up with something…special." He paused, just for a second. 

"A sweet release. A proper orgasm."

Hinata froze.

Her brain completely short-circuited.

Did he—

Did he just—

Did she hear that correctly?

Her face went up in flames, her fingers clenching her purse strap as tight as she could, the only thing keeping her grounded, reminding her that this was real. That she was, in fact, awake.

"O-O-Orgasm?!" She squeaked, her voice pitching so high she barely recognized it.

Naruto's grin only widened.

"That's right, Hinata-san."

Casual.

Nonchalant.

As if he had just told her the sky was blue.

Hinata gawked at him, completely and utterly shocked beyond belief.

She wanted to deny she heard him correctly.

She wanted to ask if this was some kind of joke.

She wanted to faint on the damn spot.

This is what she signed up for?

This is what 'Happy Ending' meant?

All this time?!

How could she have been so reckless?!

Twice—that word, erotic, had flashed before her eyes. Twice, she had seen it, registered it… and yet, each time, she brushed it off, convincing herself it was just part of the all-inclusive massage experience she had conjured up in her head. 

She knew she had seen it.

And yet, instead of stopping to question it, instead of reading between the lines like any rational person would, she let her excitement get the best of her—rushing headfirst into booking the session without a second thought.

Too hasty. Too quick.

Now, sitting here, her pulse hammering, reality finally sinking its claws in, she could hardly believe it.

What had she gotten herself into?

All the while, as she spiraled deeper into the chaos of her own thoughts, Naruto remained where he was—calm, composed, waiting. His smirk lingered, his sharp blue eyes watching her every reaction with quiet amusement.

But then—

His smile began to fade.

Slowly, that teasing smirk softened, replaced by something more cautious, more observant. His head tilted slightly, his blonde brows drawing together as he took in her silence, her stiff posture, the way her fingers had gone white-knuckled around her purse strap.

His hands lowered, the playful edge in his demeanor slipping just a little.

"…You okay, Hinata-san?"

His voice was gentler now, his gaze carefully scanning her face for any signs of discomfort. 

"If this isn't something you're comfortable with, we can make adjustments." He offered, his voice steady, reassuring, "Just remember, this session is all about helping you relax, not adding to your stress."

Hinata blinked, her mouth opening and closing, her pulse still racing. And then—before she could even think, before she could stop herself—

"No, no—I want it."

The words just…tumbled out. 

What. The. Hell. 

Naruto's brows lifted slightly, his smirk making a slow return.

"…Oh?"

That single word carried so much weight, dragging heat all the way down Hinata's spine.

Oh?

OH?!

Hinata's heart slammed against her ribs, realization crashing down on her far too late.

What the hell had she just agreed to?

Her mouth opened, as if to take it back—to retract the words—but the way Naruto was looking at her, studying her so intently, made the thought die on her tongue.

Especially with him looking so fine.

Kami.

This would be any woman's dream, wouldn't it? To be pampered by a man this strong, this handsome? To have those skilled hands of his gliding over her body, rubbing her down, taking care of her?

He was built for this. Trained for this.

And… if she was being honest… she secretly wanted it.

More than she should.

More than she—

Wait—what?! What the hell was she thinking?!

Her face grew redder and redder, blinking, waiting for him to… say something. Anything.

Naruto hummed, low, considering. 

And with that—he broke the silence.

"Well, alright then."

His smirk returned. 

"But before we officially move forward, there are a few things we need to go over first."

He pushed himself off the counter, moving with that same easy confidence, grabbing his clipboard and flipping it open.

"First off, let's talk comfort levels."

Hinata inhaled sharply, gripping the fabric of her skirt, feeling the heat pulse through her entire body.

Comfort levels?

Oh kami.

"This section requires you to be a little more open with me, Hinata-san," Naruto continued smoothly, flicking through the forms, "That means skin-to-skin contact. Now, you don't have to be completely naked if that makes you uncomfortable. Most of my clients—" He paused, looking at her pointedly, "—especially first-timers—keep their underwear on. Totally up to you."

Hinata's brain short-circuited. Again.

Naked.

Naked?!

Oh. 

She had not thought this through.

Her fingers twitched, "I… I can keep my underwear on?"

Naruto nodded, his expression remaining completely professional despite the nature of the discussion—a skill in itself, "Of course. This is all about what makes you comfortable."

Hinata exhaled slowly, feeling at least somewhat relieved.

Then, Naruto's voice dipped lower.

"Though, if you want the full experience, skin-to-skin contact allows me to work deeper into the muscle tissue. It helps with circulation, tension relief, and overall relaxation. The less restriction, the better the results."

Hinata swallowed hard.

Circulation. Tension relief. Relaxation.

Okay. Okay, that all sounded… reasonable.

Logical.

Totally not like she was about to get stripped down and touched in ways she'd never been touched before.

Right?

But then…

That naughty little voice deep in the back of her mind whispered temptingly.

Would that be so bad?

To experience his hands gliding over every inch of her body? To have those strong fingers kneading into her skin, pressing into all the places that ached?

To finally, finally satisfy those intimate cravings she had been forced to repress?

Naruto glanced up at her, curious but patient, "Still with me?"

Hinata nodded stiffly, her pulse pounding in her ears, "Y-Yeah… still with you."

"Good."

She swallowed hard, then, in a barely audible whisper, murmured, "I-I'd like to keep my underwear on, please."

Naruto gave a simple nod, "Alrighty."

He jotted something down on the clipboard before glancing back up at her.

"So, next, I will use a variety of oils during the session, all tailored to your needs. Some focus on deep relaxation, others on muscle recovery, and some—" His smirk twitched at the corner, "—heighten sensitivity."

Hinata felt her entire body lock up.

Heighten. Sensitivity.

What the hell did that mean?!

Naruto, clearly picking up on her internal struggle, let out a low chuckle,  "I'll go with whatever you're comfortable with," He assured her smoothly, "And I'll let you know exactly which oil I'm using before I apply it. But if you're unsure…" His smirk deepened slightly, "I can always mix a custom blend—one that covers everything. Keeps things… interesting."

Hinata didn't trust herself to speak, so she just nodded again, her throat too dry to function properly.

"Alright," Naruto continued, completely at ease as he flipped to the next page, "Last thing—orgasm control."

Hinata nearly choked on her own saliva.

"O-O-Orgasm control?!"

Naruto grinned, tapping the pen against his clipboard, "Yup. You have two options here."

He held up a single finger.

"One: You let it happen naturally. I work you up, and when your body decides it's ready, you let it all go."

Hinata gaped at him.

She wanted to interrupt—to say something—but he held up a second finger.

"Two: You hold back until I give you permission."

Hinata made a sound.

It was somewhere between a squeak and a wheeze, but it definitely didn't sound human.

Naruto's grin only widened.

"That one's my personal favorite, but, again, all up to you."

Hinata just sat there, her lips slightly parted, completely and utterly at a loss for words. This was so much more than she expected—so much more intense than she ever could've imagined.

She had only intended to get a simple, straightforward massage.

And now this…

She couldn't even breathe.

Her heart pounded so rapidly it was starting to scare her, her thoughts tangling into a frantic mess.

It wasn't just about the massage anymore.

No.

This was more than that. So much more.

This was self-care. Attention. Intimacy.

Everything she had denied herself for years.

It was all right here.

In one session.

With him.

Right then and there, that naughty, reckless part of her came rushing back in again.

It whispered—no, it purred in her ear.

"Do it."

"Let go."

"Treat yourself, girl."

And for once—just once—Hinata wanted to listen to it. She had spent her entire life playing it safe, following the rules, sticking to routine.

Always composed. Always responsible. Always predictable.

Never risky.

Never self-indulgent.

And for what?

For what?!

For years of pent-up frustration? Of loneliness?

For a life where she never once let herself chase desire?

No.

Not this time.

This was her chance—her moment—to take something for herself.

To do something wild.

Something reckless.

Something that made her feel alive.

She had come here to take a break from the norm.

To let go.

To finally, finally stop thinking so damn much.

And the answer was right in front of her.

Blonde. Blue-eyed. Smirking like he already knew exactly what was running through her mind.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

Then, slowly, deliberately—

She lifted her chin and met his gaze.

"…Okay."

Naruto's smirk widened.

"Yeah?" He stated, more as a confirmation than a question.

Hinata bit her lip, her nerves all over the place, before finally nodding.

"Yeah. Let's do it."

Naruto's grin broadened, flashing those stupidly perfect pearly whites—up close and personal—in a way that made her stomach flip and her womanhood clench in anticipation.

Kami.

She had never been so aware of her own body before.

It was ridiculous.

"That's the spirit," He praised, his approval as warm as it was reassuring. "I promise, you won't regret it, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

There it was again—that pet name, slipping so effortlessly from his lips.

Hinata barely stifled a whimper, clutching her legs tightly together, desperately willing herself to stay composed.

Naruto's eyes flicked to her midnight blue hair, and he tilted his head, "First, let's start by putting up your hair. It's beautiful, by the way."

Hinata blinked, caught off guard, "Eh?"

"Your hair. The color." He smirked, moving toward one of the counters, grabbing something, "It's unique… kinda mesmerizing, actually."

Hinata's face turned red.

Before she could even process the compliment, Naruto was already in front of her, his strong hands reaching toward her.

"May I?"

She nodded quickly, her embarrassment spiking.

Of course, she had forgotten to put her hair up before coming here. Who in their right mind forgets something so simple when going to a massage parlor?!

So embarrassing.

But then—

Her breath hitched the moment she felt him touch her.

Warm.

Firm.

His palms cradled the sides of her head, gathering the silky strands with practiced ease. His fingers skimmed the nape of her neck, collecting ever strand in those large hands of his, sending a shiver trailing down her spine. Every brush, every subtle tug as he gathered her hair into a loose bundle, was oddly intimate. 

Kami.

She hadn't expected this to feel so… nice.

He was so close, his masculine scent wrapping around her making her head spin.

And it was just him fixing her hair.

What the hell was she going to do when he actually touched her?

"There we go," Naruto murmured, successfully twisting her hair up into a messy high bun, securing it with a hair tie. 

Hinata exhaled the breath she didn't know she was holding.

He stepped back slightly, admiring his work.

"Looks good." He smirked. "Now, onto the next part."

He nodded toward the massage table, "Alright, go ahead and slip out of your clothes. Lie down for me—face down, head resting in the cushion." He instructed, motioning toward the head of the table. 

Hinata froze.

Right.

She had agreed to this.

She had literally just said yes to this.

Her fingers twitched, her heart pounding, but Naruto's voice broke through her hesitation again—casual, reassuring, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"I'm gonna step out for a moment to grab a few extra things for your session. No rush—take your time. When I get back, we'll get started." He gestured toward the counter, "Oh, and you can set your belongings over there if you'd like."

Hinata glanced down at her purse, nodding softly.

His smirk softened just a little, a flicker of something almost teasing behind his gaze, "Don't run away on me now, yeah?"

Hinata squeaked, gripping the hem of her skirt so tightly, she thought she might tear it.

Naruto chuckled, turning on his heel and heading for the door, his presence lingering in the room long after he had stepped out.

Hinata sat there in the silence, her mind spinning, replaying everything that had just unfolded, struggling to fully grasp the weight of her impulsive decision.

Her hands trembled.

Her entire body felt like it was on fire.

And now…

Now, she had to undress.

She covered her burning cheeks with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut as she kicked her legs in a flustered fit.

Kami help her.

Because she was so screwed.

Hinata exhaled deeply, her head resting against the plush, rounded cushion of the massage table, her face settling into the designated opening.

She was down to her underwear now—her finest set, ironically enough.

It wasn't something she had planned. She certainly hadn't woken up this morning thinking, 'Oh, today seems like a great day to wear my sexiest lingerie, just in case I end up half-naked in front of the most gorgeous man I've ever met.'

She groaned inwardly.

Who was she fooling?

Of course, she had. Of course, she planned it. 

And now… here she was.

Half-naked. Face down on the table, waiting.

Her fingers tensed against the plush fabric beneath her, and she forced another breath through her nose.

Relax.

The room was calm, quiet, soothing—everything a massage parlor should be. Soft, tranquil music drifted through the air, blending with the gentle trickle of the water fountain built into the dark tiled wall. 

The warmth from the flickering candles was nice against her skin at least, warm and heady, designed to lull her into relaxation.

And for a moment—just a moment—it worked.

She closed her eyes, letting the tension drain from her muscles, trying to focus on the peaceful ambiance.

The water.

The music.

The peace.

The soft, steady rhythm of her own breath.

But then—

She became aware of something else. 

A new sound. A new rhythm. 

The pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears, loud, unrelenting—drowning out the music, the fountain, everything.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her nerves coiled tighter.

Her body, despite the comfort of the table, remained on edge.

She couldn't get Naruto's words out of her head. Everything he had said, everything this massage entailed—it was nothing like what she had originally imagined when she recklessly booked the appointment. 

Not even close.

This was… something else.

Something thrilling.

Something undeniably intimate.

Something she knew would be life-changing. 

Once again, her mind began to scramble. 

But just as she felt herself begin to lose it, just as she was starting to come to terms with how utterly exposed she was—

A knock at the door shattered the quiet.

Hinata stiffened, her breath catching in her throat.

"Hinata-san? Are ya ready, hun?"

That voice. 

Naruto was back.

Hinata jolted upright, her head lifting from the cushion, heart hammering, "H-Hai! I—I'm ready!" She blurted, scrambling to press her face back down into position.

"Alrighty!"

The door clicked open.

Then came, footsteps.

Soft, steady, confident.

Each one sent her heart racing faster, thudding in sync with his approach.

And then—Naruto's voice.

"Good girl."

Hinata squeaked.

A literal, tiny squeak escaped her lips before she could stop it. Her entire body went rigid against the table, toes curling in mortification.

Oh, kami.

Did he just—

Was he—

He was messing with her, wasn't he?

It didn't help that he chuckled, the sound deep, amused, far too satisfied with himself.

"Relax, Hinata-san."

His voice was low, just as before, a warm murmur that sent a gentle shiver down her spine.

The door snapped shut behind him, sealing them off from the rest of the world.

Just the two of them now.

She heard the clink of bottles, the faint rustle of movement as he set something down on the counter closest to her. 

"You're so tense, honey."

Hinata sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of the table beneath her.

But she couldn't move.

Not when she felt him so close.

Not when every hair on her body stood on edge, her skin prickling with the undeniable awareness of him.

He moved again.

Slow, measured steps, drawing closer—so close, she swore she felt the heat of his gaze trailing over her bare back, over the smooth curves of her body.

Her breath hitched, her stomach twisting as she imagined it—imagined him looking, taking her in, seeing her just in her underwear. 

She sucked in a breath. 

But then, his footsteps changed direction, striding away from her, this time toward the farthest counter. It was then, she heard the faint sound of liquid being poured, the crisp snap of a cap closing, the controlled whoosh of water running as he washed his hands again. 

Her heart pounded against her ribs, her mind spiraling.

The anticipation coiled inside her, tight and heady.

Then she heard it. 

The soft, muted slip of gloves being pulled on.

A quiet sigh left Naruto's lips, as if he were centering himself, rolling his shoulders, flexing his fingers. 

She then heard more footsteps from him, and a brief shuffle of movement, and soon, something warm and weighty draped over her lower half. A towel, she realized, the fabric pressing lightly against her skin, a subtle barrier between her and complete exposure. 

"Alright, sweetheart."

His voice. Deep. Right above her. 

Close enough that she could feel the heat of his presence at her back.

"Let's begin."

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