#I love how this complicates everyone's relationships

[faebled-stories]

No Strings, No Heart

Kinkvember Day 23: Friends with Benefits

ITZY Lia (Choi Jisu) x Male reader

You and Lia had been friends since high school, back when neither of you had any idea what life would have in store. She had been the new girl, fresh from Canada, with a soft-spoken voice and an air of quiet confidence that intrigued everyone, including you. You’d been assigned seats next to each other in English class, and what started as casual small talk soon grew into a friendship you hadn’t expected.

Lia, or Jisu as she’d been known then, had dreams even back then that set her apart. While most of your classmates were focused on cramming for college entrance exams or deciding what clubs to join, Lia was already chasing something bigger: a career in music. She was always humming under her breath, jotting lyrics in the margins of her notebook, and rushing off to auditions after school.

When she finally became a trainee, it wasn’t a surprise, but it did mark the start of a more distant phase in your friendship. She spent most of her time at the company, training long hours, while you finished school and moved on to university.

Despite the distance, you kept in touch—texts here and there, occasional coffee meetups when she had a rare free day. When she debuted with ITZY, you were one of the first to congratulate her, your heart swelling with pride as you watched her music videos and performances from your tiny apartment.

Even as her life grew more hectic, Lia never let go of your connection. Whenever her schedule allowed, she’d call you up, sometimes late at night, her voice exhausted but warm as she asked about your day, complaining about the pressures of idol life in the same breath. She was still Jisu to you, your old high school friend, even as the world knew her as Lia.

-----

It was one of those late-night meetups—a rainy evening in her cozy Seoul apartment—that changed the dynamic between you. Her space smelled of vanilla candles and faintly of jasmine tea, her usual go-to after a long day. You sat awkwardly on her beige couch, holding a mug that was almost too hot, watching her as she lounged on the floor, cross-legged in an oversized sweater and shorts.

“You’re always so tense,” Lia said suddenly, her voice cutting through the soft patter of rain against the windows. Her damp hair fell in natural waves around her face, framing her features in a way that was almost disarming. This was not the poised, camera-ready idol the world saw. This was the Lia you knew—barefoot, casual, real.

You chuckled nervously, unsure where she was going with this. “Work’s been crazy, I guess.”

“That’s always your excuse,” she teased, setting down her mug with a soft clink. “But honestly, you’ve been like this since high school. Always wound up. Always overthinking.”

“Well, sorry for being consistent,” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

She smiled too, but there was something different in her expression—something calculated yet sincere. “You know, we could help each other out.”

Your brow furrowed. “Help each other out… how?”

Lia tilted her head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “I don’t want anything complicated,” she began, her tone careful but confident. “No drama, no commitments. Just… something easy. For both of us.”

The words felt surreal, hanging in the air between you. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“I’m saying,” she interrupted, her voice softer now, “that we’re both stressed. Both stuck in our own routines. And you’re… safe.”

“Safe?” you echoed, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

Lia rolled her eyes, laughing. “You know what I mean. I trust you. You’re not going to do anything stupid like fall in love with me. And let’s be honest—you’ve never been great with relationships.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, though you couldn’t deny the accuracy of her words. Dating had never come easily to you, and Lia knew it better than anyone.

“I’m just saying it makes sense,” she said, her smile softening into something almost reassuring. “We’ve known each other forever. We trust each other. And I need… an escape, you know? A way to blow off steam without it becoming a mess.”

You hesitated, turning the idea over in your head. “I don’t know, Lia. Stuff like this—doesn’t it get messy?”

“Not if we’re honest with each other,” she said simply. “We set boundaries. We stick to them. And if it doesn’t work, we stop. No harm, no foul.”

Her words were logical, almost too logical, and the idea of being close to someone you trusted—someone who understood you without the usual complications—was more tempting than you wanted to admit.

“I… guess,” you said finally, your voice tinged with hesitation. “If you’re sure about this.”

Lia’s smile widened, a spark of relief and something else—satisfaction?—in her eyes. “I’m sure.”

And just like that, the boundaries of your friendship shifted. You told yourself it was perfect—a way to connect without risking anything deeper.

The first few times were… great. Better than great. There was an ease to it that neither of you had anticipated, a natural rhythm that made it feel less like a new arrangement and more like something that had always been there, waiting to be discovered. The way your bodies fit together was effortless, as though they’d been designed for this connection, every touch and movement aligning perfectly. It wasn’t just about the physical pleasure—though that was undeniable—it was the comfort of being close to someone who understood you in a way no one else did.

Lia had a way of melting into your arms, her laughter and sighs carrying a vulnerability that made the moments feel intimate even in their simplicity. You liked similar things, and exploring that together felt easy, seamless. The way her breath hitched against your skin, the way she responded to every touch with a soft moan or a shiver, made it feel less like an arrangement and more like a quiet escape for both of you.

When she reached for you in the stillness of her room, there was no hesitation, no awkwardness—just a mutual understanding that you could let go with each other.

It was everything she had promised: no drama, no complications. It was a release, a way to step outside the stress of your individual lives and find solace in each other. You told yourself that this was enough, that it didn’t need to mean anything more. And for a while, it didn’t.

But then, one night, everything shifted.

The atmosphere in Lia’s room felt thick with the unspoken, a cocoon of warmth and intimacy as the world outside faded away. The soft scent of jasmine and the lingering notes of her perfume were a quiet contrast to the faint tension in her voice as she spoke.

“It’s been… such a day,” she said with a sigh, leaning back against the headboard, her oversized sweater slipping from one shoulder. Her fingers idly played with the hem, a distraction as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I feel like everyone wanted a piece of me today. The schedules, the cameras, the smiles—they don’t stop.”

You nodded, sitting close enough to her that the faintest brush of her knee against yours sent sparks up your spine. “You don’t have to explain. I can see it,” you said softly, meeting her eyes. “You’re always carrying so much.”

Her lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “Sometimes, I wish I could just turn it all off. Just… for a little while.”

“You can, here,” you offered, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. “You don’t have to be anything but you.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch your arm, her fingers grazing your skin. “That’s why I asked you to come tonight,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. “I need this. I need you.”

The weight of her words hit you with a force you weren’t entirely prepared for, but you nodded, leaning in slightly. “I’m here,” you said simply, your hand finding hers and squeezing gently.

The next moments unfolded slowly, deliberately, as if neither of you wanted to rush. Her sweater slipped further, pooling around her elbows as she lifted it over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her body, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, was breathtaking. She looked up at you, her eyes steady but vulnerable, as if daring you to say something, to break the spell.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, the words escaping before you could stop them.

A soft laugh escaped her, and she reached up to brush your cheek. “You’re such a sap,” she teased, though her voice was warm, her expression soft. “But I like it.”

You leaned in to kiss her, your lips meeting in a slow, deliberate connection. It started tenderly, a gentle brush of warmth, but quickly deepened, your hands finding her waist, her hips, exploring the curve of her body. She gasped softly against your lips, her hands sliding under your shirt to tug it off, the cool air of the room making your skin prickle as she traced patterns along your chest.

Guiding her back against the bed, you hovered over her, her hair spilling across the pillow in soft waves like a dark halo. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her features, her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips evidence of the moment’s growing intensity. Her hands found your shoulders, her touch steady but eager as her breath quickened. The feel of her bare skin against yours, the warmth of her body beneath you, sent a rush of heat through you.

Before moving further, you paused, reaching for the small foil packet on the bedside table. Lia watched you, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, her gaze steady yet filled with trust. You slipped the condom on quickly, her hand brushing lightly against your arm in a silent gesture of reassurance.

As you align yourself with her, you paused again, your gaze locking onto hers. “Are you ready?” you asked softly, the weight of your question hanging in the quiet space between you.

Her lips curled into a faint smile, and her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. “Absolutely, I need this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with unmistakable longing. “I need you.”

The moment of joining was slow, deliberate, her body tensing slightly as you pressed into her. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, her fingers tightening on your shoulders, her nails faintly digging in as she adjusted to the closeness. You paused, giving her time, your heart pounding in sync with hers. Her breaths quickened, each rise and fall of her chest matching the rhythm you were beginning to create. The heat of her skin against yours was all-consuming, grounding and electrifying all at once.

You began to move, slow and measured, each motion deliberate. Her soft moans and quiet gasps filled the air, small sounds that spurred you on, each one sending shivers down your spine. Her hands roamed your back, nails occasionally dragging across your skin, her hips lifting instinctively to meet yours. The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, a rhythm building that felt less like something physical and more like a quiet surrender.

Her lips parted as she whispered your name, her voice soft and trembling, a plea that made your chest ache. The way she looked up at you took your breath away. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes fluttering open and shut, and the vulnerability in her gaze made you falter for a moment. You’d always thought Lia was beautiful, but here, now, she was something more—raw, open, and completely unguarded. Every quiet sound she made, every brush of her hands against you, seemed to weave a thread between you that went far beyond the act itself.

Your pace deepened, becoming more deliberate as you leaned down to capture her lips. Her response was immediate, her mouth opening to you as her hands slid into your hair, pulling you closer. The heat between you grew, a symphony of gasps, moans, and murmured words filling the space. Her legs tightened around your waist, her body pressing into yours as if to pull you even closer.

You pulled back slightly, your lips trailing down her jawline to her neck, brushing over the delicate curve of her throat. Her skin was warm and flushed beneath your touch, and you felt her shiver as your mouth moved lower, pressing kisses behind her ear. The spot you’d discovered during your time together—the one that always drove her wild. Her reaction was immediate, a soft gasp escaping her lips as her body arched into you.

Her hands clung to your shoulders as your lips continued their path, down her collarbone and toward the swell of her chest. You paused for a moment, letting your tongue flick gently over the sensitive skin there, before capturing one of her nipples between your lips. Lia let out a low, trembling moan, her nails digging into your back as you lavished attention on her. You alternated between gentle kisses and firmer, more deliberate nips, her body responding to each one with a sharp intake of breath or a soft cry.

Your free hand roamed over her body, sliding along the curve of her waist and the dip of her hips. You teased her other breast with your fingertips, rolling and brushing against her skin in time with the rhythm of your lips. Her body writhed beneath you, her hips lifting instinctively as if to draw you closer, the heat between you growing with every touch.

From her chest, your lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warmth across her stomach. Lia’s breathing grew heavier, her hands tangling in your hair as you moved lower, savoring the way her body reacted to every press of your lips, every flick of your tongue. Her quiet whimpers and soft moans filled the room, a soundtrack to the intimacy building between you.

You moved back up, your mouth returning to the curve of her neck, brushing kisses along her jawline before finding her lips again. The kiss was deep and consuming, her hands pulling you closer as though she couldn’t get enough of you. Her legs tightened around your waist once more, her body pressing into yours as the rhythm between you grew more urgent, more deliberate.

Her reactions—each shiver, each soft cry, each whispered plea—fueled you, blurring the line between physical connection and something deeper. You knew every spot that made her tremble, every touch that left her gasping, and you used them all, the intimacy between you growing with each passing moment. It wasn’t just her body you craved—it was her trust, her surrender, the way she opened herself to you completely, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Her voice broke through your focus, her breathless words trembling as she gasped, “You feel so good… Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” you murmured, your voice hoarse and strained, barely able to contain the emotions coursing through you. Her flushed cheeks, the vulnerability in her gaze, the way her body clung to yours—it all struck you in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

The tension between you built steadily, every motion pulling you both closer to a precipice. Her moans grew louder, breaking into desperate cries as her body moved in sync with yours. Her hips met you with an urgency that matched your own, and her hands tightened their grip on your shoulders, her nails dragging against your skin.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice trembling and raw in a way that sent shivers through you. Her head tilted back, her body arching beautifully beneath you as she clung to you like you were her lifeline. “I—oh my god, I’m cumming… I love it, don’t stop, please.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, the raw need in her voice breaking through every wall you’d built around your feelings. Her climax overtook her in a wave, her body trembling violently as she cried out, her voice unguarded and desperate. The sight of her face, twisted in pure ecstasy, sent a jolt through you. Her name fell from her lips like a prayer, her body shuddering as she reached the peak, clutching at you with a force that left no doubt of the depth of her release.

And then, it hit you—seeing her like this, so open, so completely undone, you realized something you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to be the only one to give her this feeling. The thought struck like lightning, leaving you trembling even as your own release loomed. It wasn’t just about the act—it was about her, about how much you wanted to hold onto this moment, this connection, this vulnerability that was uniquely hers.

Your climax followed, surging through you in powerful, unrelenting waves as you buried your face in her neck. A guttural groan escaped you, your body trembling with the intensity of it. The warmth of your release pooled into the condom, each pulse carrying with it the weight of everything you’d been holding back. The sensations were overwhelming, magnified by the realization that this wasn’t casual for you anymore. Maybe it never had been.

Even as the waves subsided, you stayed close, holding her tightly against you. Her fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns along your back, her touch grounding you as your heart pounded against hers. Her breaths were soft, mingling with your own in the quiet aftermath. The intimacy of the moment was almost too much, yet you didn’t want it to end.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, your heart still racing as you pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips curved into a faint, tired smile, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken emotions that neither of you seemed ready to name.

You leaned back carefully, slipping out of her with a quiet groan as her body shuddered at the loss of closeness. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off as you moved to the side of the bed. Lia’s gaze followed you, her cheeks still rosy from the exertion, and when her eyes landed on what you held, her lips quirked into a teasing smile.

“Wow,” she said, her voice still breathy but laced with playful amusement. “You’ve been… pent up, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the tension between you easing slightly at her tone. “Yeah, maybe a little,” you admitted, your voice still low and rough from the intensity of the moment.

She laughed, a soft, light sound that made your chest tighten again, her fingers brushing over your arm as if to reassure you. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, her smile widening slightly as she leaned back against the pillow, her gaze softening.

In that moment, as you looked at her—flushed, vulnerable, yet teasing—you couldn’t ignore the shift that had happened. Whatever boundaries had existed between you before were gone, and the weight of that realization lingered, pressing gently against your heart.

You stood, disposing of the condom in the bathroom, your mind still reeling from everything that had just unfolded. The intensity of the moment lingered, but it wasn’t just the physical closeness that consumed you—it was the emotions swelling in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tried to push the thoughts aside as you cleaned up, focusing on the simple motions as a way to steady yourself.

When you returned to the bed, Lia was already nestled under the blankets, her cheeks still faintly flushed, her hair spilling over the pillow in soft waves. She looked up at you, her eyes warm and inviting, and without a word, she lifted the blanket in a silent invitation. It was a gesture you’d grown accustomed to—a familiar rhythm that had followed these nights together. But this time, something about it felt heavier, weighted with an unspoken shift between you.

You climbed into bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. She moved closer almost instinctively, her body curling into yours, her head resting against your chest as her arm draped across your stomach. The warmth of her, the way she fit so perfectly against you, was both comforting and terrifying.

Her breathing began to slow, her body relaxing as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And it was—for her. For you, though, the usual ease wasn’t there. You lay stiffly, staring up at the ceiling as a moment of dread washed over you.

You’ve broken the rules.

It hit you with the weight of a confession you’d been avoiding for weeks, maybe months. You’d convinced yourself this was fine, that you could keep things casual, that it was just a way to connect without getting too close. But tonight had shattered that illusion. You weren’t just drawn to Lia—you’d fallen for her.

Your chest tightened as the realization settled in. The way she laughed, the way she trusted you enough to let her guard down, the way she made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had—it wasn’t just something you could brush aside anymore. It was real, and it was terrifying.

You glanced down at her, your heart aching as you took in the soft curve of her lips, the peaceful expression on her face. She looked so at ease, so content, and you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb that. But the weight of your feelings pressed heavily against your chest, threatening to suffocate you.

Lia shifted slightly, her arm tightening around you as if sensing your tension. “You’re quiet,” she murmured, her voice drowsy but laced with curiosity. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced yourself to relax beneath her touch. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Because as much as you wanted to stay in this moment—her warmth, her closeness—you knew that everything had changed. You’d crossed a line you couldn’t uncross, and now you weren’t sure what to do.

-----

The weeks that followed were an emotional minefield. Every stolen glance, every shared laugh, every moment Lia curled up beside you after an intense night—all of it dug deeper into the growing pit in your chest. It wasn’t just about intimacy anymore; it was everything. The way she smiled at you, her guard let down for just a moment. The way she playfully mocked your quirks, grounding you with the ease of someone who knew you better than anyone. You craved her in ways that went beyond physical. You wanted all of her—her bad days, her hopes, her fears, and everything in between.

But you couldn’t say it.

The rules had always been clear: no emotions, no strings, no complications. Lia had built walls around herself, walls you understood were necessary given her chaotic life. Your arrangement was her sanctuary, an escape from the pressures of her career, her fame, and the unrelenting expectations placed on her shoulders. You told yourself that being her safe space was enough. It had to be.

That night had started like many others, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. As the moment reached its peak, Lia shifted downward, her lips trailing across your skin with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers coursing through you. When her mouth finally enveloped you, a deep groan escaped your lips, your hand instinctively tangling in her hair.

Her movements were teasing but purposeful, each flick of her tongue measured to drive you closer to the edge. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with mischief yet laced with something softer, something deeper. “You’ve been so stiff lately,” she murmured, her breath warm against you before continuing, her voice low and sultry as her tongue worked with maddening precision.

The intimacy overwhelmed you, her familiarity with your body leaving you utterly undone. She knew exactly how to unravel you, to find the places that made you tremble, the rhythm that pushed you to your breaking point. When your release finally overtook you, it was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing through you with an intensity that left you trembling. Your fingers tightened briefly in her hair as a hoarse gasp escaped you, the heat of the moment leaving you breathless.

Lia pulled back gently, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She moved back up to lie beside you, her body fitting against yours with an ease that should have felt comforting. But this time, it didn’t. This time, it felt different.

She settled against you, her head resting on your chest, her breathing steady and calm. Her hair tickled your skin, her warmth both soothing and torturous as a quiet dread began to build in your chest. It wasn’t just physical anymore—this was heavier, filled with emotions you couldn’t keep bottled up.

Before you could stop yourself, the words rose in your throat. “Jisu,” you began softly, her name catching in your throat.

She hummed in response, her eyes still closed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Hmm?”

“Do you ever think…” You hesitated, the words feeling too heavy, too dangerous. But they pushed forward anyway, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ever think this could be something more?”

Her eyes opened slowly, the smile fading as her expression shifted into something unreadable. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, the sheets slipping slightly off her shoulder. Her gaze met yours, searching and cautious, and the seconds stretched into an eternity.

“Why are you asking?” she asked softly, her tone carrying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your heart raced, panic rising in your chest as you scrambled for a response. “I was just thinking,” you lied, the words tumbling out too quickly. “It’s nothing. I don’t know, just… a thought.”

Her expression didn’t change, her gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before she sat up fully. Wrapping the blanket around herself like a shield, her voice was calm but resolute as she said, “Hmm, no, I don’t think so. The reason this works is because it’s casual. If we start complicating things, it’ll ruin everything.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and cutting in their finality. You nodded slowly, forcing a smile you didn’t feel. “Oh… yeah… You’re right. Forget I said anything.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She lay back down, resting her head on your chest again as if nothing had happened. Her breathing evened out, her warmth against you a cruel comfort. But for you, everything had changed.

The words you’d been holding back, the feelings you’d buried, wouldn’t stay quiet anymore. They clawed at you, louder with every passing day, until the very thought of continuing like this felt unbearable. You had broken the rules, and the weight of that truth suffocated you in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

-----

Over time you tried convinced yourself to accept her boundaries, telling yourself that being with Lia on her terms was better than not having her at all. But that fragile resolve cracked wide open the day you saw the article.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind of day meant for doing nothing. Sunlight spilled through your apartment windows, painting the floor in golden streaks as you scrolled absently through your phone. Outside, the faint hum of the city mixed with the rhythmic ticking of the clock, a peaceful backdrop to your aimless thoughts.

Then your phone buzzed, pulling you from the haze of routine. Without thinking, you tapped the notification.

The headline hit like a physical blow: "ITZY’s Lia Spotted on a Romantic Date with beloved Idol."

Your stomach tightened instantly, a sharp ache blooming in your chest as you scrolled through the accompanying photos. Each swipe felt like tearing open a wound. There she was, walking arm-in-arm with another idol. The soft rustling of the park’s trees in the background, the dappled sunlight falling on their faces—it all looked so serene, so effortless. Their casual clothes hinted at an attempt to keep things discreet, but the atmosphere around them screamed intimacy.

And then one photo stopped you cold.

Her head tilted slightly, her hair catching the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes—soft and filled with a warmth that felt painfully familiar—were fixed on him. She was smiling, bright and genuine, the corners of her lips curving in a way that was devastatingly effortless. That smile was reserved for someone special. Someone who wasn’t you.

Your chest ached, a dull yet unrelenting pain spreading through you as you stared at the screen. The world around you seemed to fade, the sunlight that had once felt comforting now harsh and uninviting. The faint hum of the city became muffled, replaced by the deafening rush of your own thoughts.

Has she ever looked at you like that? Has she ever smiled at you in that way, with that kind of quiet adoration? A part of you knew the answer, even if you didn’t want to admit it. The answer cut deeper than anything she’d ever said or done.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you stared at the image, the knot in your stomach tightening with each passing moment. You could almost hear her laugh in your head, see the way she looked at you during your private moments together. But it wasn’t the same. It had never been the same.

The sharp buzz of another notification snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. Lia’s name flashed across the screen, her message simple: “Are you free?”

The words sat at the top of your screen, directly above the article. The juxtaposition was cruel, a perfect encapsulation of everything that had been tearing you apart. Your thumb hovered over the notification, your mind swirling with a chaotic mix of emotions—anger, hurt, jealousy, longing. Every rational part of you screamed not to reply. To protect yourself. To draw a line before it was too late.

But as always, your heart betrayed you.

The faint sound of your breathing filled the room, shallow and uneven as you tapped her message. You opened the chat, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed the only thing you knew how to say to her.

"Yeah, I’ll be there."

The moment you hit send, the weight in your chest seemed to shift, but it didn’t lift. Instead, it settled deeper, anchoring itself to the realization you were too afraid to face: no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t walk away. Not from her. Not yet.

-----

Lia greeted you at her apartment door with the same casual ease as always, dressed in a loose sweatshirt that hung just off one shoulder and shorts that left little to the imagination. Her hair was tied back loosely, and the faint scent of her lavender body lotion hung in the air as she stepped aside to let you in. She smiled, warm and familiar, but to you, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her tone carried a cheerfulness that felt almost jarring compared to the turmoil swirling inside you. “Rough day?”

You swallowed hard, your thoughts tangled with the image of the article’s photos. The memory of her walking arm-in-arm with someone else clung to you like a shadow, an ache that wouldn’t loosen its grip. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice flat. “Something like that.”

Her brows knitted slightly, a flicker of concern crossing her face before she masked it with another smile, softer this time. “Come in,” she said gently, stepping aside. “Let me fix you some tea or something.”

You followed her inside, the familiar warmth of her cozy apartment stirring something deep and painful within you. The dim lighting, the scent of jasmine mingling with lavender, the soft hum of a playlist you knew by heart—it should have felt comforting, but tonight it only made the ache worse. To her, everything seemed normal, unchanged. But to you, every gesture, every laugh, felt magnified, a sharp contrast to the images still burned into your mind.

She led you to the couch, her steps light and unbothered, her usual ease a stark reminder of how differently you were experiencing this moment. She sat close to you, her knee brushing against yours as she turned to face you fully. “You seem tense,” she said softly, her voice lowering into something soothing. Her hand rested lightly on yours, her touch simple yet disarming, as if she could sense the weight pressing down on you. “Let me help.”

You hesitated, the memory of her smile in those photos flashing through your mind. The warmth she had shown to someone else, the intimacy of it, felt like a stark contrast to the Lia sitting here with you now. Part of you wanted to pull back, to say something, to ask her what that meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Her touch, her presence—it was too much to resist, and before you could think better of it, her lips were on yours.

The kiss was familiar, practiced, but this time, it felt different. Your movements were slower, less certain. A part of you wanted to push her away, to demand answers, but the other part—the part of you that craved her touch, her presence—won. You kissed her back, the frustration and longing coiling tightly in your chest, fueling your every move.

Her hands slid beneath your shirt, tugging at it with the ease of someone who knew you too well. Your resolve crumbled under her touch, the confrontation slipping further from your mind. It could wait, you told yourself. For now, you let the emotions swirling within you—frustration, jealousy, and something darker—take over.

By the time you reached the bedroom, something inside you had shifted. The weight of your suppressed emotions guided your actions, a storm of unspoken feelings driving every touch, every motion. You turned her toward the bed, your hand firm on her shoulder as you eased her down to her knees.

Without a word, you unbuttoned your pants, the sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet room like a spark igniting the air. Lia’s eyes followed the motion, her gaze flicking downward before snapping back up to meet yours. Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before melting into something softer, almost eager. When you pressed yourself to her lips, her hesitation was brief. Her hands found their place on your thighs, steadying herself as she took you in.

The shift in her was immediate. This wasn’t like before—this wasn’t the usual playful or restrained dynamic between you. You gripped her hair firmly, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you guided her movements. Lia’s soft, muffled moan against you sent a shiver down your spine, the vibration electrifying. The control you felt, the way she surrendered so willingly, was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but give in to the moment fully.

Your hips began to move, your thrusts deliberate but rough, each one pushing deeper as you set the rhythm. Lia’s hands tightened their grip on your thighs, her fingers curling slightly as her body swayed to match your motions. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and her breathing grew heavier between moments when you gave her just enough time to adjust. She looked up at you, her wide, watery eyes filled with surprise and a growing hunger. This wasn’t what she’d expected, but the way her body responded told you everything—this was what she wanted, what she craved.

Her moans grew louder, though muffled, as her lips and tongue worked in perfect sync with your movements. Her usual confidence had melted away, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that only fueled you further. This side of you—assertive, unrelenting—was something she hadn’t expected, and the way she gave herself over to it was driving you wild.

You tightened your grip on her hair, guiding her more firmly as her hands clutched at your thighs for balance. Her breathing was heavy, her moans blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds that filled the room. Tears began to streak her cheeks as her throat constricted around you, her body tensing slightly as she fought to keep up. Still, her eyes never left yours, wide and watery but filled with trust and unmistakable arousal.

Her muffled cries grew needier as your rhythm intensified, her nails digging into your thighs as her body trembled. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core, every sound she made pushing you closer to the edge. When her moan vibrated against you again, it sent you spiraling, your hips moving faster, rougher, with a desperation you couldn’t suppress.

You felt yourself reaching the breaking point, your control slipping entirely. Lia’s breathing hitched, her hands shifting to grip you tighter as you thrust one last time. Your release hit like a flood, overwhelming and unstoppable. A guttural groan tore from your throat as you came, the heat surging through you in waves. Lia’s body instinctively tensed beneath you. Her throat worked desperately, swallowing each hot pulse as it filled her mouth. Her gag reflex kicked in more than once, her soft, choked sounds blending with the wet, rhythmic movements that echoed in the room. Despite her efforts, some of it spilled from the corners of her lips, trickling down her chin in thin, glistening streams. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, her nails pressing into your skin as she did her best to keep up, her flushed cheeks stained with tears and exertion.

Her breathing was uneven, her body trembling with the effort to take everything you gave her. When you finally pulled back, a string of fluid connected you briefly before breaking, her tongue darting out to clean her lips as she gasped for air. Lia’s eyes lifted to meet yours, glassy and dazed, her expression a mix of exhaustion, surprise, and something playful.

She wiped at her chin with the back of her hand, her lips curving into a faint, teasing smile. “Fuck that was hot,” she murmured hoarsely, her voice laced with mischief despite her breathlessness. “What's gotten into you?”

You didn’t respond, the fire in your chest still burning too hot for words. Instead, you leaned down slightly and tapped your member against her cheek a couple of times, the wet sound punctuating the charged silence. Lia blinked up at you, her flushed face lighting up with surprise, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

Without a word, you reached down, your hands finding hers as you pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. She let out a soft, surprised laugh, stumbling slightly against your chest. Her body was still trembling, her knees unsteady from the intensity of what had just happened. She clung to you for balance, her breath brushing against your neck as she steadied herself. 

Before she could add anything else, your hands moved to her sweatshirt, gripping the fabric at the hem. Her laughter faded into a small, knowing smile as she raised her arms without hesitation, letting you strip it off her in one smooth motion. The air between you felt charged, electric, as the garment fell to the floor.

Her shorts followed quickly, her own fingers fumbling with the waistband as though eager to match your urgency. The two of you moved in tandem, discarding every barrier until she stood before you, bare and breathtaking in the dim light. The soft glow illuminated every curve, every flushed detail of her skin, making her look impossibly beautiful.

You climbed onto the bed, hovering over Lia as she lay beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body still trembling from the intensity of earlier. Without a word, you captured her lips in a bruising kiss, pouring all the frustration, anger, and sadness you’d been bottling up into the connection. Her soft moan was muffled against your mouth as she melted into you, her hands reaching up to grip your shoulders.

You didn’t stop there. Your lips trailed away from hers, moving down the curve of her jaw to her neck, where you nipped at her skin with sharp, deliberate bites. Lia gasped and squirmed beneath you, her body reacting instinctively to each sting of your teeth, her fingers clutching at you for balance. The sound of her soft whimpers drove you on, each one fueling the storm raging inside you.

Your hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as you moved lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses down to her collarbone. You didn’t hesitate to bite there too, hard enough to make her arch her back, her body pressing closer to you as though craving the sting. Her breaths grew quicker, her chest heaving as she writhed beneath your relentless attention.

Her squirming only pushed you further, your need to control, to channel the storm within you, manifesting in the way you held her down. One hand moved to her neck, wrapping around her throat in a firm, deliberate grip. Lia’s reaction was immediate—her body froze for a second, her breath catching, before her eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. There was no fear in her gaze, only surprise and raw, unfiltered desire.

You didn’t pause, letting your other hand slide down her body, brushing over her stomach before reaching her folds. The heat and slickness there were undeniable, and it made you tighten your grip on her neck as your fingers teased her entrance. Lia gasped, her body jerking at the touch, her hands clutching at the sheets for balance as her hips instinctively pressed toward you.

You didn’t slow down, slipping two fingers inside her in one swift, deliberate motion. Her reaction was instant—a choked moan escaping her lips as her body arched against your hand, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. You tightened your grip on her neck, holding her firmly in place as you set a rough, relentless rhythm, each thrust of your fingers matching the intensity of your emotions.

Her breaths came in short, desperate gasps, her body completely at your mercy. You didn’t let up, your fingers curling inside her, hitting all the right spots as her moans grew louder. The way she reacted—the way her body writhed and her voice broke with every movement—pushed you further into the haze of emotion driving your every move.

Lia’s hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she clawed at the fabric, her head tilting back as her lips parted in a silent plea. Her hips began to shift, trying instinctively to pull away from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t give her the chance. Each time her body tried to escape, you followed her movement with ruthless precision, maintaining the relentless pace that left her gasping and trembling beneath you.

“Please,” she choked out, her voice cracking as her hips jerked sharply against your hand, torn between chasing the pleasure and trying to find relief from the intensity. Her thighs quivered as the wet, obscene sounds from her folds filled the room, mixing with her soft, desperate whimpers.

Your fingers thrust with relentless precision, plunging deeply while curling just enough to make Lia cry out with every motion. Her gasps turned into desperate, broken cries, the sound spilling from her lips in sharp, uneven bursts. The way her body tightened and arched against your hand drove you further, your thumb brushing over her clit—first in slow, deliberate circles, then pressing firmly and flicking sharply as her hips jolted against you.

The hand around her neck tightened slightly, your fingers pressing just enough to make her breath catch. The mix of pressure and roughness sent her spiraling, her voice breaking into a low, guttural moan as her eyes fluttered open briefly, wide and glassy, before rolling shut again. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, her entire body trembling as your thumb quickened its pace, alternating between firm, relentless circles and sharp, deliberate flicks that made her hips buck wildly.

Her thighs tried to clamp shut around your hand, her body instinctively attempting to shield itself from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t stop. Your pace only grew faster, harder, as though chasing something deeper. Her moans turned into broken cries, her hips jerking helplessly against your hand as you pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

The slick heat from her folds coated your fingers as her walls tightened around you, her body reacting to every motion. Her breath hitched, her cries becoming louder, more desperate. Her hips jerked erratically, trying to escape your relentless pace, but you didn’t let up. The grip on her neck tightened again, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes snapped open for a moment, unfocused and dazed.

“God—” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking as her body convulsed. “I—can’t—”

Her body tensed beneath your touch, her breathing erratic as she teetered on the edge of release. Just as the moment was about to break, you pulled your fingers out abruptly and delivered a sharp smack to her folds. The sudden sting and shock sent a jolt through her entire body, her back arching violently off the bed as a strangled moan tore from her throat.

That was it. Lia shattered beneath you, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs clamped around your hand, trapping you there as her cries turned raw and broken, each sound carrying the intensity of her release. Her body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her. Her hands clutched at the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as her hips jerked uncontrollably, seeking and shying away from the overwhelming sensations.

You held her firmly, your grip on her neck steady, grounding her as your hand returned to her folds. Your fingers worked with deliberate precision, prolonging her climax as her cries grew louder, more desperate. Her hips bucked wildly against your hand, her body writhing beneath you as she gave in completely to the pleasure overtaking her.

Her release seemed endless, the intensity of it leaving her gasping for breath as her body quaked under your control. The room was filled with the sound of her broken moans and the rhythmic slap of your palm against her oversensitive lips. Each touch seemed to reignite the flames, drawing out her pleasure until her body collapsed back against the bed, trembling and spent.

As the aftershocks coursed through her, her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her skin glistened in the dim light, her face flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

You loosened your grip on her neck, your fingers brushing lightly against her skin as you leaned over her. Lia’s eyes fluttered open slowly, glassy and unfocused, her lips parting in a faint, breathless smile. Her body continued to tremble slightly, the lingering sensations leaving her utterly undone beneath you.

You guided Lia’s trembling, sensitive body onto the bed with deliberate intent, her flushed skin glistening as she struggled to catch her breath. Her wide, dazed eyes met yours, still hazy from the intensity of her previous climax, but you weren’t done—not yet. Slowly, you lay down and pulled her back against you, arranging her pliant body with steady hands.

Her back pressed firmly to your chest, her legs spread wide and bent at the knees, her thighs trembling as you slipped your hands beneath them. Your grip steadied her, your fingers curling securely around the back of her thighs, holding her legs in place and spreading her open. The position left her entirely vulnerable, every inch of her body on display. Her arms rested near her sides, loosely pinned between your bodies, emphasizing her complete surrender to you.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her neck fully exposed, giving you an unobstructed view of her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the faint sheen of sweat that glistened on her skin. Lia let out a soft, breathless gasp as the new position registered, her body tensing briefly before relaxing into your hold.

The vulnerability of it, the way your grip anchored her while she was spread open, only seemed to heighten her arousal. “Where did you learn this?…” she murmured, her voice trailing off into a whimper as she felt you press against her entrance. The sensation made her hips shift instinctively, her body eager and trembling as she surrendered completely to the moment.

Without hesitation, you entered her in one deep, deliberate motion. The pace was fast and unrelenting from the start, your thrusts deep and purposeful as you held her firmly in place. Lia cried out, her voice breaking into a desperate moan as her body responded immediately. The position allowed you to reach depths you hadn’t before, and her body clenched tightly around you, the new sensation overwhelming her.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to you completely. The sheer submissiveness of her posture, her willingness to let you take control, drove you on. You leaned down, your lips brushing the curve of her neck as you pressed open-mouthed kisses along her flushed skin, your teeth grazing lightly before biting down just enough to make her gasp.

Lia let out a trembling gasp as your hand found her clit again, circling it with a firm intensity that made her entire body jolt against you. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, her hips writhing in an attempt to escape the relentless stimulation. “Wait—” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she tried to shift away from your touch. “I’m sensitive—too much…”

Her words barely registered, muffled by the storm in your mind. The frustration and anger churned like a relentless tide, the image of her smiling, her hand entwined with someone else’s, replaying in your head like a haunting refrain. It consumed you, fueling the roughness in every movement.

You tightened your hold, your hands locking her helplessly in place. Her legs trembled, trying to close against the overstimulation, but the position left her completely vulnerable. With her legs spread wide and pinned by her own weight, she had no leverage, no way to resist as you drove her higher. Her body squirmed, her hips shifting desperately, but your arm around her wrists and your thighs holding hers apart ensured she couldn’t escape.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to the back of her neck where you could reach, the soft curve of her skin damp with sweat. The kiss was possessive, claiming, and when you bit down, she let out a sharp cry, her body arching against yours. The sting of your teeth sent a fresh wave of shivers through her, her voice breaking into a soft whimper as you soothed the bite with another heated kiss.

Lia’s body trembled, her reactions raw and desperate. Each time you bit down, harder now, her cries grew louder, her head tilting back to expose more of her neck as though surrendering completely. Her thighs tried to press together again, but the position made it impossible, leaving her entirely at your mercy.

Her pleas melted into choked moans when your hand left her clit briefly, only to return with a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, followed by her broken cry as her body jolted against you. The sting sent her closer to the edge, her breath hitching in ragged gasps as her hips jerked involuntarily.

The relentless combination—the deep, fast thrusts, the circling of your fingers on her clit, and the sharp bites you pressed to her shoulder and neck—pushed her further into a haze of overwhelming sensation. Her cries grew louder, her body trembling violently as she fought against the intensity. Even as her hips shifted and tried to twist away, her body betrayed her with every shiver of arousal, her movements weak and yielding to your pace.

Just as her body tensed in anticipation of release, you pressed harder against her clit, your fingers moving in swift, relentless circles. Lia gasped, her walls clenching tightly around you as her entire body strained, her climax teetering on the brink.

When you sensed she was at her limit, you delivered a sharp, deliberate slap to her clit. Lia screamed, her voice raw and broken as her body convulsed violently. The sharp sting mingled with the overwhelming pleasure, the combination tearing through her with a force that left her trembling uncontrollably. Her thighs twitched against your hands, her chest heaving as she sobbed softly, her cries a mix of pleasure and surrender.

You didn’t stop, your fingers continuing to flick and slap her nub while your thrusts maintained their relentless pace. Her body collapsed further against yours, her legs trembling as the overstimulation sent her spiraling beyond her limits. Another broken scream tore from her throat before her body finally gave out, her muscles going slack as she slumped back onto you, her head falling onto your shoulder.

Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her body trembling as aftershocks coursed through her. You released her wrists, your hands smoothing over her legs as you pressed soft kisses to her temple and along the marks your teeth had left on her shoulder. Her breathing gradually steadied, her skin still flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

Your pace didn’t falter, even as Lia slumped further against you, her body trembling and utterly spent. The overstimulation of her climax had left her broken in the best way, her cries now soft whimpers, her breath hot and uneven against your neck. Her legs remained pinned, trembling as your relentless thrusts sent aftershocks rippling through her. Each deep motion made her body react instinctively, her hips twitching as though trying to pull away, but the position left her helpless, completely at your mercy.

As the intensity built, her breaths grew sharper, her head tilting back against your shoulder. The haze of her earlier release lingered in her glassy eyes, her thoughts slow and unfocused. Yet, as your thrusts grew faster and more erratic, realization flickered faintly in her expression. She gasped softly, her thighs twitching against your hold.

“Wait…” she murmured, her voice trembling and breathless, her mind catching up to what her body already knew. “Don’t… don’t cum inside me,” she pleaded, her tone cracking under the weight of her exhaustion and arousal.

Her words were faint, almost drowned out by the rhythmic sound of your hips meeting hers. Her protest lacked strength, her body betraying her as her warmth clenched tightly around you, pulling you deeper with every motion. Even as she tried to speak again, her words dissolved into soft, broken whimpers, her thighs trembling violently as her overstimulated body refused to resist what was coming.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, the edge drawing closer with every thrust. Her whispered plea echoed faintly in your mind, but the overwhelming heat, the way she writhed beneath you, the way her body pulled you in, made it impossible to stop. The last thread of your restraint snapped as her walls tightened around you one final time.

“Fuck…” you murmured hoarsely, your voice trembling with the urgency of your release. Her body stiffened briefly, her lips parting in a faint gasp of realization, but she couldn’t move, her legs pinned wide and her body limp in your hold.

With a guttural groan, you pressed as deep as you could, your release surging into her in powerful, shuddering waves. Lia’s breath hitched sharply, her fingers weakly clutching at your arms as she felt the warmth spreading inside her. “Oh my God…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her head fell forward, her body twitching in response to the unfamiliar sensation. The flush on her cheeks deepened, a mix of disbelief and something unspoken as she lay trembling against you.

When the last tremors subsided, you loosened your grip slightly, your hands smoothing over her legs as they remained draped across your hips. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of your mingled breathing, heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

Lia’s voice came out as a whisper, trembling with exhaustion but edged with frustration. “Too much… it was too much…” Her body twitched beneath you, her trembling legs sprawled limply against your hips. Her chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, her gaze hazy but laced with something sharper as she tried to steady herself.

Then her eyes locked onto yours, and the flush on her cheeks deepened, no longer just from exertion. “I can’t believe you came inside me,” she muttered, her voice low but biting. “You know we can’t do that.”

Her words cut through the heavy air, and for a moment, her expression hardened as she tried to assert control over the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. But the tension in her brows faltered as her body gave a faint, involuntary shudder, the lingering sensation of everything pooling inside her impossible to ignore.

She shifted slightly in your hold, her thighs twitching, her skin hypersensitive and her mind torn between anger and something much more confusing. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, to reprimand you further, but no words came. Instead, she turned her head to the side, her expression tight, though not entirely resolute.

Inside, you could tell she was battling herself. The heat spreading across her neck and cheeks, the way her legs trembled against yours, betrayed a truth she didn’t want to face. Even though she was angry—she had every reason to be—the intensity of what had happened, the rawness of being completely at your mercy, lingered in ways she couldn’t deny.

Lia let out a sharp exhale, her body relaxing slightly against you as her anger seemed to ebb, replaced by a reluctant acceptance. Her head fell back onto the pillow, her breathing still uneven, her lips pressing together in a faint line. The silence between you was heavy, her internal conflict palpable, as the reality of the moment settled over both of you.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air between you was filled with something unspoken, a tenderness that lingered even as exhaustion pulled at you both.

“Jisu,” you said suddenly, the word breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.

She turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Can this ever be more?” The question came out unsteady, raw with emotion, as though it had torn its way out of you.

Her smile faded, replaced by something gentler but distant. She sighed softly, the blanket slipping slightly as she shifted to sit up. “We’ve talked about this,” she said, her tone careful but firm. “The reason this works is because it’s casual. It’s… uncomplicated. That’s why it’s good.”

You turned your head to look at her, searching her expression for something—anything—that might suggest she felt the same way you did. But all you saw was a calm resolve. “You’re great,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “You really are. But if we start complicating things, it’ll ruin what we have, could you imagine even trying to do this while one of us has feelings.”

Her words struck you like a punch, each one cutting deeper than the last. You forced a small, hollow smile, nodding as if you understood. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “You’re right…”

Lia’s hand brushed over your arm lightly, reassuringly, before she lay back down beside you, curling into your side as though nothing had happened. But something had. For you, the illusion that this could be enough had shattered, and no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

As Lia slept peacefully beside you, you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. You couldn’t keep doing this—not when your feelings for her only grew stronger with each passing day, and not when she had made it clear she would never see you the way you saw her.

You slipped out of her bed quietly, careful not to wake her. The city lights outside her window cast long shadows across the room as you let out a soft apology,dressed and left. You told yourself that it would be the last time, that you couldn’t go back—not for her, not for anyone. You needed to find someone who would value you, who would want you the way you wanted them.

-----

The next morning, Lia woke up alone, sunlight filtering softly through her curtains as the warmth of the day began to creep into the room. She stirred slowly, her body aching in unfamiliar ways—her neck, her thighs, her core—all reminders of the intensity of the night before. She shifted slightly, wincing at the tenderness, and as the memories flooded back, her cheeks flushed with heat. The rawness of how you had been with her, the way you had consumed her so completely, lingered in her mind, each thought sending a fresh wave of warmth coursing through her.

Reaching for her phone, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the screen. After a deep breath, she typed a quick message: “Last night was amazing. Thank you.”

She hit send, expecting the usual quick reply. You were always good at responding, rarely making her wait more than a few minutes. It was one of the constants she had come to rely on—your availability, your attentiveness. But as the minutes stretched into hours, her screen remaining frustratingly blank, she shrugged it off. You’re probably just busy, she told herself, though a faint unease began to creep into her thoughts, like a whisper she couldn’t ignore.

Life moved forward, as it always did, her schedule swallowing her days whole. But the unease grew, a quiet nagging in the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away. Still no reply. No follow-up. No late-night texts asking about her day or teasing her about something silly. It was unlike you, and with every passing day, it became harder to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Desperate for distraction, she agreed to another date with the idol, convincing herself it was the right thing to do. But from the moment they sat down at the trendy café, everything about the evening felt wrong. The vibrant chatter of the other patrons blurred into background noise, his words barely registering as she stared down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the unanswered message. It sat there, unopened, like a stark reminder of your absence.

He tried to make conversation, asking about her work and cracking lighthearted jokes, but her responses were flat, distracted. Her mind kept drifting—back to you. She could almost hear your laugh, picture the way you would have teased her about spending too much time scrolling on her phone. She thought about the little things you did, the gestures that had woven themselves into her daily life: bringing her food after late practices, the way you always seemed to know when she needed comforting, and the talks that stretched into the early hours of the morning when her world felt too heavy.

Her chest tightened as she realized it wasn’t just about the sex anymore—though that had been incredible. It was everything else, the way you had quietly become her anchor without her noticing. She missed you, in ways that went beyond physical, in ways she couldn’t ignore.

As the date dragged on, her unease grew heavier. She looked at him across the table, saw the effort he was putting into keeping her attention, and felt the guilt creep in. He wasn’t the problem. He was polite, charming even, but he wasn’t you. He didn’t make her feel grounded the way you did. He didn’t know her tells, didn’t know how to navigate her quiet moods or the way her smiles didn’t always reach her eyes.

She excused herself earlier than planned, her heart heavy as she walked out into the cool night air. Her fingers hovered over her phone again, the thought of calling you overwhelming her. But as she stared at your name in her contacts, she couldn’t bring herself to press it. Not yet.

Days turned into a week, and Lia’s desperation grew. Every thought of you tightened the ache in her chest, the longing building until it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about the intimacy anymore—it was everything else. The little moments, the times you made her feel understood, cared for, seen. The absence of those moments was suffocating.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside her was shifting. Something she hadn’t wanted to see before but now couldn’t deny. You weren’t just her escape, her comfort—you had become something so much more. Finally, she turned to someone she trusted: Yeji.

The three of you had always been close, bonded not just by your ages but by a shared sense of humor and camaraderie. After practice one evening, Lia found Yeji in the lounge, scrolling through her phone. Her heart pounded as she sat down across from her, working up the courage to speak.

“Yeji,” Lia began, her voice quieter than usual as she fidgeted with the edge of her hoodie.

Yeji glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Lia hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by uncertainty. “You know about… my arrangement, right?”

Yeji set her phone down, her gaze sharpening slightly. “Oh, yeah,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I know about it.”

Lia’s fingers twisted the fabric of her hoodie, her nerves fraying. “Have you… talked to him lately? Do you know where he is?”

Yeji’s expression softened, the teasing fading as she leaned back against the couch. “Yeah, we’ve talked,” she admitted, her voice even. “But I don’t think I should tell you more than that.”

The words hit Lia harder than she expected. Her stomach twisted, and her voice dropped. “Why not?” she asked, almost pleading. “I just… I miss him. I didn’t think I would, but I do. I didn’t realize how much he meant to me until he wasn’t there anymore.”

Yeji sighed, studying her closely. “Lia, you have to ask yourself why he’s not here right now,” she said, her voice steady but not unkind. “You had to know how he felt—maybe you didn’t want to admit it, but it was obvious.”

Lia looked down, her throat tightening as Yeji’s words sank in. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she murmured. “I just… I didn’t know.”

Yeji leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “I think he needed space, Lia. He couldn’t keep pretending to be okay with what you two had. And now? I think you’re realizing how much he really means to you.”

Lia’s fingers curled tightly around her hoodie, her heart sinking further. “I miss him,” she said quietly. “Not just… what we had. I miss everything. I don’t know what to do.”

Yeji shook her head gently. “I’m not going to tell you where he is—it wouldn’t be fair. But if you feel this way, you need to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Lia nodded slowly, Yeji’s words settling heavily in her chest. For the next few days, she replayed every moment in her mind—every late-night talk, every thoughtful gesture, every quiet look that made her feel safe. The realization of how much she missed you, how deeply she cared, grew sharper with each passing day.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Lia grabbed her phone with trembling hands and called. The first call went to voicemail, then the next, and the one after that. Still, she didn’t stop. Each unanswered ring only heightened her desperation. She began texting, her messages growing shorter and more frantic with each passing hour.

“I need to talk to you.”“Please, can you call me back?”“Just… say something.”

When the texts went unanswered, she left voicemails, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I… I really want to talk. Please, can we meet? Just let me know.” Every message sounded more raw than the last, the silence on the other end of the line gnawing at her chest like an open wound.

She lost count of how many times she called—her phone logs a mess of missed attempts, her inbox filled with drafts of unsent messages she couldn’t bring herself to delete. Each night, she lay awake, staring at her phone, willing it to light up with your name. The waiting was unbearable, each moment stretching endlessly as hope began to waver.

Just when she was on the verge of giving up, her phone buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat, and she scrambled to pick it up. It was you. A simple message: “Okay. Let’s meet.”

Relief and apprehension washed over her in equal measure. She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure how to respond. After a long pause, she simply typed, “Thank you.”

-----

When you finally met, the air was heavy with tension, every unspoken word between you settling like a weight in the small café. Lia sat across from you, her usual poise stripped away. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the edge of her sleeve, her eyes fixed on the untouched coffee in front of her. The faintest hint of color rose in her cheeks, betraying the vulnerability she was trying to hide.

You watched her carefully, your own nerves coiling tighter with every second of silence. Her lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to speak, but the words didn’t come right away. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold your gaze. “For everything. For not seeing how you felt, for taking you for granted.”

Her words caught you off guard, the raw honesty cutting through the tension. You blinked, unsure how to respond at first. “I should be the one apologizing,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter than you intended. “For ghosting you, for catching feelings in the first place. I—”

“Don’t,” Lia interrupted gently, her voice firm but laced with regret. Her eyes finally met yours, and the warmth there made your chest ache. “Don’t apologize for liking me. Please. I need to say something first.”

You froze, her words silencing the flood of guilt that had been building inside you. She fidgeted with her sleeve, her gaze flickering downward for a moment before she looked back at you, her expression unguarded.

“I like you,” she said softly, the words landing with a weight that made your breath catch. “So much. I think I have for a while, but I didn’t know… or maybe I just didn’t let myself realize it. I got so comfortable with you always being there, and when you were gone, it felt like a piece of me was missing.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper, and her hands stilled as she continued, her voice trembling but resolute. “I thought keeping things casual was easier—safer—because I didn’t want to risk losing you. But I was selfish. I didn’t think about what you needed or how much it might be hurting you.

Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t stop. “I’m so sorry for everything. For not being considerate of your feelings, for pushing you away when you tried to tell me how you felt. You deserved more than that—more than I gave you—and it kills me that I hurt you because I was too scared to be honest.”

Her words tumbled out in a rush, raw and vulnerable. She took another breath, her eyes glistening as she looked at you, waiting. “Do you still…” she began, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “Do you still like me? Because if you do… I promise I’ll be better. I’ll try harder. I won’t take you for granted again.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and trembling with sincerity. You stared at her, the tight ache in your chest threatening to spill over. The vulnerability in her eyes, the way her fingers nervously twisted at her sleeve, the unsteady rise and fall of her breath—it was Lia, stripped of all pretense, offering herself to you in a way she never had before.

“I miss you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “More than I can even say. And yes, Lia, I still like you. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening as relief and hope washed over her face. A small, trembling smile broke through her uncertainty, and she reached across the table, her hand brushing yours. You didn’t hesitate, your fingers curling around hers as the tension between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet, tentative warmth.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you heavy but no longer with tension—this time, it was full of possibility. Lia’s fingers tightened slightly around yours, her gaze searching your face as though she was committing this moment to memory. Then, softly, she asked, “Can I… kiss you?”

Her voice was quiet, almost shy, a stark contrast to the confident Lia you had always known. You felt your breath hitch, the question catching you off guard even though you knew the answer. You nodded, unable to form words, and her lips twitched into a faint, nervous smile.

When she leaned forward, the world around you seemed to still. The noise of the café, the clinking of dishes, the hum of conversations—it all faded as her face came closer, her hand still firmly in yours. The first brush of her lips against yours was tentative, testing, but the moment they met, something shifted.

This kiss wasn’t like the others. You’d kissed Lia before—passionate, heated, messy kisses in the haze of your arrangement. But this? This was entirely different. This kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t fueled by lust or need. It was soft, deliberate, full of emotion you hadn’t allowed yourself to name before. It felt like kissing her for the first time, like discovering something new, something sacred.

Her lips were warm and inviting, moving against yours with a tenderness that sent shivers through you. There was no urgency, no pretense, just the quiet connection between you as the kiss deepened, your free hand instinctively reaching up to cradle her cheek. She leaned into your touch, her fingers threading lightly through your hair as she let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing into the moment.

For Lia, the kiss was no less transformative. She’d kissed you countless times before, but this—this felt like peeling away every wall she’d built, every mask she’d worn. This was the kiss she hadn’t let herself imagine, the kiss she hadn’t realized she needed until now. It wasn’t just the physical connection—it was the way your hand trembled slightly as you cupped her cheek, the way you held her like she was the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as your eyes met. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, her gaze full of something you couldn’t quite describe but felt deep in your chest. You could see it reflected back at you: this wasn’t just a kiss. This was everything.

“That…” Lia murmured softly, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words, her fingers brushing against your jaw. “That felt… different.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice low and raw with emotion. “It did.”

Neither of you moved to pull away, the space between you too fragile, too precious to break. For the first time, it felt like you were both on the same page, and the weight of everything that had come before fell away, leaving only the warmth of this moment.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy, more open—like the air between you had shifted, lighter somehow. You cleared your throat, your fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as you searched for the right words, your heartbeat quickening with each passing second. “So, um…” you began, awkwardness thick in your voice as your eyes darted away from hers. “If you’re free later… I mean, after this—if you want, we could, I don’t know, grab dinner or something?”

Lia tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile that widened just enough to let you know she understood exactly what you were trying to say. Her cheeks flushed faintly, the color rising against her soft complexion. “Are you asking me out?” she teased lightly, her tone warm, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried to play it cool. “Maybe. I mean… yeah, I guess I am.”

Her smile softened into something more genuine, more tender. “I’d like that,” she said quietly, her voice carrying just the right hint of sincerity to make your chest feel lighter. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

The relief that washed over you was palpable, and without a second thought, you stood, holding out your hand. Lia’s gaze flicked down to your outstretched fingers, hesitation flickering for only a moment before she reached out and took your hand, her fingers curling around yours in a gesture that felt at once familiar and entirely new. Her touch sent a warmth through you, steadying your nerves as the tension between you eased further.

As you walked out of the café together, her hand warm in yours, the world around you seemed to blur into insignificance. The usual noise of the city streets—honking cars, chatter from passersby—faded into the background as the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. Lia’s steps matched yours, her shoulder occasionally brushing against your arm, and every now and then, you glanced at her. Her soft smile, illuminated by the golden glow of the streetlights, carried a quiet promise that made your heart ache in the best way.

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, testing the waters, and she looked up at you, her eyes bright with a mixture of shyness and excitement. The small action spoke louder than words, her slight squeeze in return confirming what you both already knew: this wasn’t just two friends reconnecting. This was something new, something fragile yet full of possibility.

By the time you reached the restaurant, the hesitation you’d felt earlier had all but melted away. The hum of the city was a distant backdrop as you opened the door for her, gesturing for her to enter first. She smiled, murmuring a quiet “thank you” as she stepped inside, her gaze lingering on yours for just a beat longer than necessary.

Inside, the warm, inviting glow of the restaurant felt like an extension of the moment you were sharing. As you sat down, the conversation flowed more easily, the earlier tension giving way to lighthearted laughter and comfortable silences that spoke of a connection neither of you could deny. And as you watched her, her smile radiant and her eyes sparkling across the table, you knew without a doubt: this wasn’t just a return to what you had before. This was the beginning of something real.

[mononijikayu]

forg_tful — fushiguro megumi.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them.  Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  “Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor. You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

GENRE: alternate universe - grim reaper au;

WARNING/S: mythical beings and creatures, aged up megumi, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, unhappy life, depression, illness, hurt, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, depiction of character death, depiction of illness, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of panic attack, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, grim reaper! megumi, long suffering dying! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: when i was dabbling about what to post, i did a wheel of names and megumi won so here is another megumi fic. i was talking with @midnight-138 the other day and we got in this conversation about goblin, the kdrama. and there were grim reapers there. so i ended up writing about that here. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! anyway, i love you all <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

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THERE IS A WONDER ABOUT HUMAN DESTINY. You heard a story about it then, at the orphanage. One of your carers would tell you about it often. How humans were born into this destiny in this new life after their old one.

And this life is determined by how good or bad that past life was. And that each and everyone must live a good enough life in each cycle, in order to have a good life in the next.

When you were a child, understanding this concept felt like a challenge. How could one’s destiny ever be decided just like that, by things you don’t even remember? Who gets to decide whether or not we are good?

Is good and bad easy to tell? You would ask the older kids at the orphanage this, and sometimes you caretakers. But they never seem to understand why you could not accept it as it is. 

After all, you were a child. And a child would always find that ridiculous, you think. You were a child. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not to anyone. Not about anything.

You doubt you could have done something in your past life that should warrant any punishment. You were someone people knew to be a good kid, you always have been. People looked at you warmly, ever so kindly. 

But now you can only say that you know better. You have grown up. You had seen the truth. And it was not good, it was ugly and rotten. It was a tragedy. And you hated it. You hated everything about it.

Because your past life, your past self — they might have been a terrible person. They must have been the worst of the worst. Because, if you weren’t, then what justifies that sad suffering? That painful existence you had lived up until now.

You sighed heavily, taking in the whiff of bitter antiseptic, that artificial fragrance. You like to think you’ve been cursed to live a sad life. And today was just another proof of it.

Every thought of it just lingers like a familiar shadow, whispering in the quiet moments when you’re too tired to fight back. It’s easier to believe in curses than coincidences, easier to pin your pain on something cosmic than accept a world so indifferent.

You were an orphan, after all. Not in the storybook sense where miracles come to those who wait, but in the raw, unvarnished truth of it. Alone from the start, without a name to cry out to when the nights felt endless.

There was no mother to call for warm hugs, there was no father to give you reassurances. Just that cold metal bunk bed, which creaks at night as you twist and turn and the dark moonless nights.

You were passed from one place to another, faceless in a system that churned endlessly, always one more lost child than it could handle. You kept being told that it wasn’t that because you were unlovable, that’s what they always said.

But it was just that they found out what love looks like when they look at someone else, at another child that they think fits in their family. That was just how they felt they said, that was just their truth. And it shouldn't be personal. 

You learned early on that love wasn’t guaranteed, that kindness wasn’t free, and that your worth was measured by how little trouble you caused. And just like that you grew up in that orphanage, being your own parent, being your own mother and father, your own sibling. Your own family.

When the kids at school found out, they immediately latched onto it. The teasing started small, barbs disguised as jokes, but it grew sharper, crueler. Just as the years dragged on, they had grown to be even crueler, even more vicious about being someone like you. 

Even as you started to have your own life and slowly became an adult, you found that people would never think to give you anything. You had expectations at one point that people would be more understanding. That they would give you more grace about it. 

But you would find yourself broken up over by your significant other because their mother didn’t like that you had no one in your family. Well, their mother never liked you from the beginning.

They thought you were difficult and had no manners, all because you never had a family, no parents to teach you all the things that would make a good person.

You would find yourself having friends and then getting into fights with them when you couldn’t show up for them at times, because you had to work multiple jobs to get through college.

Or how you couldn’t hang out with them because you had to take another shift for extra cash for your rent. They would say, what would be the need of you if you can’t be there?

Over time, you found yourself isolated from the world. No matter what you did, you found yourself alone. You found yourself unable to please people, unable to keep people. Unable to attain happiness or peace in this life. And over time too, you stopped expecting anyone to step in. You stopped expecting anything at all.

You’ve had a rough life—that’s what they’d call it, isn’t it? A neat little phrase to gloss over the thorny, jagged edges of this existence. It was as if that phrase could capture all of the nights spent crying into your pillow, the gnawing hunger for connection, for someone; the sense that the world moved on without ever noticing you.

And somehow, your misery can only continue.

It started with little things, barely noticeable at first—a name you couldn’t recall, a face that seemed familiar but unplaceable. Then it got worse and worse as time went by. Days lost to a haze of things you couldn’t explain, moments slipping through your fingers like water flowing downstream. 

You didn’t wanna worry about it that much in the beginning. Maybe you’ve been working too hard. You’ve taken so much work these past few weeks. And maybe you had forgotten to eat anything.

You had a sensitive stomach, after all. Maybe that’s what has been causing the fatigue and the headache. Maybe the headaches are the reason you’ve been forgetting a lot of things. Yeah, that’s what it could be.

Yet, it just never went away. Even with the lifestyle changes, even when you would cut back on work to take care of yourself and rest. Nothing had changed. In fact, the pain had only gotten worse.

And more and more, you would find yourself forgetting things more and more. At one point, you had cried so much after forgetting which street you lived on after work. 

You had felt your head spinning, your vision went on a blur and that night lamp began to burn against your eyes. Your breath labored over and over, and you had tried to get it controlled — but you couldn’t. Tears fell even more as you leaned against the lamp post. You felt like you were going to collapse.That you were going to throw up on the floor. 

It took some time for yourself to regain some control, you knew that much. You just stayed there, letting the tears fall. You still didn’t remember where you had lived. You were forgetting it all. And that frustrated you to no end. You knew then that this can’t continue happening. That this cannot continue on. 

That’s why you came here in this godforsaken place known as the hospital. You’ve always hated hospitals. It was such a terrible place. Even as a child, getting your check–ups with the other orphans terrified you. Nothing about this place spells any good. You were already with bad luck, with such a terrible destiny in this life and you didn’t want it to continue.

But you cannot control destiny, not ever.

You could only control yourself. 

And even that, you cannot have control.

Not anymore, not ever again.

The doctors confirmed it: a rare, terminal illness. Brain cancer, in its final stages. Not only was it going to kill you, it was going to take everything that made you along with it.

Your memories, no matter how horrible, your identity, no matter how empty, your self, no matter how broken. All of who you are — you'd fade away in pieces, becoming a hollow shell long before your body gave out.

You thought the universe had no more ways to hurt you. 

But you knew you were wrong, from the very beginning.

And then, on a night when the weight of it all felt unbearable, you saw him.

He wasn’t what you expected. No black cloak, no skeletal frame, no cold, lifeless eyes. The grim reaper was... human. Or at least, he looked that way. His dark colored hair fell in soft, dark strands over his forehead, his clothes unassuming—a rather plain and boring suit, even.

But there was something in his presence, a quiet intensity, that made your heart skip. His blue-green eyes, sharp and unreadable, pinned you in place, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“Who are you?” you asked, though deep down you already knew.

He studied you in silence for a moment, as though deciding whether you were worth an answer. Your eyes narrowed at him, as though trying to make sure that this isn’t just your brain making a mess of you. But he wasn’t. He was very much real. He was very much here. Finally, he spoke.

“Megumi.” he said. His voice was calm, steady, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. You hadn’t expected that from a grim reaper. You had expected something more rough. Something more….grim.

“Is that all?” you pressed, desperation clawing at your throat. You wanted—no, needed—to know more. Why him? Why now? Why couldn’t you just be left alone?

“That’s all you need to know about me.” he said simply.

His words were a wall you couldn’t scale. No matter how hard you tried, you knew there would be no answers, no explanations, no mercy. At least not until you were dead. You sighed, leaning against the bench.

This was it. The final countdown was coming soon. There was no escape. Yet, as the silence stretched between you, a strange feeling took root in your chest. Not comfort, not exactly. But something close. It was at least something. And for once, you weren’t alone.

You didn’t know what this grim reaper, this Megumi, was meant to be to you. What was he? Was he a guide, a witness, a judge? You didn’t know. And perhaps it was easier not to ask questions, to not know. 

But as you continued to sit there, staring at the one who would carry you to your end, a thought crossed your mind. At least he wasn’t judging you. At least he was just there, waiting. He was calm as can be, quiet and without any grievances towards you. 

Perhaps, maybe — at least he wasn’t as cruel as life has been. You began to think to yourself as you closed your eyes about one thing. Maybe if he was here, then maybe the end wouldn’t be so lonely after all. Maybe there will finally be some sense of peace at the end. 

You opened your eyes, your lips seeping into a small smile. “I look forward to meeting my end with you.”

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AS THE TIME GOES BY, HE WAS WITH YOU IN EVERYTHING. No one else around you could feel or see him the way you do. And he couldn’t go anywhere else. He was bound to you, until he could take your soul away and bring it with him. So, Megumi continued to watch over you as you continued to live your life, or at least what remains of it.

At first, his presence unnerves you. You weren’t used to this, being watched so closely almost everyday and every hour — especially with what remained of your miserable life. But slowly you found yourself getting used to him being around. And at the very least, he still gave you space when you did things that required privacy.

Otherwise, he’s always there, quiet and still, like a shadow you can’t shake. And as the days stretch into weeks, you begin to realize that he isn’t all bad. He does talk, sometimes. At least when he thinks you do something worth giving a response about.

He was truly quite reserved and serious half the time, yes, and almost cold in the way he speaks and carries himself, but there’s something beneath it. It wasn’t easy to notice at first, because it was ever so subtle. It was as if he never wanted anyone to notice that there was  something soft within that hard exterior of his.

Megumi didn’t seem to fit his job description—not at all. He was patient in a way you didn’t expect from a reaper. From what you’d gathered from folklore and stories about grim reapers, you imagined something far more ominous.

Shadows and sickles, maybe even whispers of death. But Megumi? He had a quiet presence that felt nothing like the foreboding figures you’d pictured.

When your mind betrays you, when a memory slips through your fingers like grains of sand, Megumi is there. He doesn’t judge the gaps, doesn’t rush you to remember. Instead, he catches the loose ends with an ease that seems effortless. 

Sometimes, it feels as though he’s more of a guide than a harbinger, steering you gently through the storm of forgetfulness. His voice is steady, grounding. His gaze is understanding, never invasive.

There’s a calmness to him, a patience that wraps around you like a soft cocoon. It’s disarming. You wonder how someone charged with ferrying souls could be so tender. Yet, when you look at him, you see no malice, no hint of the cold indifference you expected. Just the faintest trace of weariness in his eyes, as if he’s carried too many burdens that aren’t his own.

Sometimes, you forget who he is. And in those moments, Megumi doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets you speak, lets you ramble, and when the memory comes back, when you remember why he’s here—he doesn’t revel in the grief.

He simply nods, a quiet acknowledgment that this, too, is part of the process. He’s not here to rush the inevitable; he’s here to make sure you don’t face it alone.

“Your nurse’s name is Alice, by the way.” Megumi says again when you struggle to introduce yourself. 

You could feel your mouth fumbling over syllables that don’t quite fit together. Your cheeks feel red at the thought, now remembering as she smiled at your direction. You waved at her. His voice is calm, steady, like he has all the time in the world to wait for you to find your footing. You blink at him, your thoughts swirling too fast to make sense of.

 “Huh?” you finally ask, the confusion thick in your tone. 

“She takes care of you in the mornings. Alice always makes sure to bring your meds with water, no ice.” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to know. “You told her once that cold water hurts your teeth, so she makes sure to bring you water without ice.

You glance down at your hands, unsure of what to say. His eyes felt warm against your own as you nodded slowly at him, trusting his words. Those details feel foreign to you, like a story you heard about someone else. But his words fit, even if you can’t remember saying them. They were warm, they felt truthful.

“Oh.” you mumble with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He looks away from you. “No problem.”

Later, in the cafeteria, you sit in front of a tray of food that feels unfamiliar. Your appetite is as absent as the clarity of your thoughts. You stare at the carton of apple juice, its horrifically bright label somehow irritating, though you can’t pinpoint why at all.

“You liked orange juice better than apple.” Megumi says, breaking the silence. He gestures toward the carton with a small nod. “That one’s your favorite. Not too sweet, not too sour.”

The simplicity of the statement hits you like a lifeline, tethering you to something concrete. You pick up the carton, turning it in your hands before setting it back down. You smiled at him again, but this time almost a mix of relief and embarrassment. You were relying on your grim reaper to remind you of everything, now more than ever.

“Thank you.” you say again, a little louder this time, just enough for him to hear.

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you decide to pull out the small notebook you’ve been keeping. Your doctor suggested it as your brain got even sicker. You needed to remember something and so this notebook, it was your place to track your thoughts before they disappear entirely. 

You scribble furiously, trying to make sense of the jumble in your head. You’re working on a sentence about feeling forgetful, but the words tangle together, your handwriting messy and uneven. You pause, staring at it. Something feels wrong. Something feels off. Your face contorts, your eyes narrow at the page.

“You missed an E.” Megumi says softly, leaning over to glance at the page. 

He doesn’t reach for the notebook, doesn’t try to take it from you. Instead, he taps the spot with his finger, just enough to draw your attention. Your eyes blinked. Sure enough, forgetful is written as forgtful. You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration bubbles up. 

“I—I know that, you know?” you say defensively, though the truth is you hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out.

He doesn’t laugh or tease you. “It happens, don’t worry.” he says simply, his tone free of judgment. “You caught it now. That’s what matters.”

You glance at him, expecting pity, but his stoic expression is as steady as ever, like this moment isn’t something to dwell on. You pierce your lips in a tight line. You carefully picked up your pen again, correcting the error with a shaky hand. 

“Thanks for telling me.” you mutter, embarrassed but grateful.

“You were talking about your favorite teacher, earlier.” he reminds you a little while later, after your thoughts derail mid-sentence. 

You’d been telling him about a memory. It was a rare one, where everything about it was good. It was such a warm, fuzzy one that had felt so clear in your mind just moments ago—but now it’s slipping away, leaving you grasping at straws.

You look at him, feeling lost. “I... was?”

“You were.” he confirms with a small nod, his tone encouraging. “You said they were the first people to notice how much you liked writing. You were just getting to the part about their funny laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” you whisper, the thread of the memory slowly weaving its way back into focus. “Right. Mr. Greene. He laughed like a seagull.”

Megumi doesn’t laugh at the description, but his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smile. That was a rare thing, you knew that. But you like to think that maybe, just maybe, if he tried — he would look even better when he smiled. He already has a handsome face, you knew that. But maybe, his smile, it would make it even better.

“That’s it.” he says, his voice carrying a quiet kind of approval.

It’s small, these moments of clarity he gives you, but they feel monumental in a life that’s slowly crumbling. For a moment, you feel like you’ve reclaimed a small piece of yourself, and you can’t help but glance at him, wondering how someone like him, a reaper, of all things can make you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

You can’t help but admit it but he was your first true friend.

He was your longest companion to boot, with that.

And perhaps, he will be the only constant you’ll ever have.

But maybe he already knew that and he just doesn’t tell you.

He accompanies you often, especially in the long, quiet hours spent tethered to hospital machines. The hum of monitors and the rhythmic drip of IVs become a backdrop to his steady, unobtrusive presence. At first, you think he’s only there to observe, to do whatever grim reapers are supposed to do as your life ticks away. 

But the longer he stays, the more you realize he’s keeping you company at every appointment. Keeping you from being so alone. Even if it was his job, he could wait elsewhere. But he sits beside you, in an empty chair no one dares sit at. 

And he stays, throughout each and every appointment. Appointments which barely keep you alive. It was only a matter of time before he had to deliver your soul to wherever it had to be.

You started to wonder if he’ll think about this time with you too. If he will find this moment to be something that will cross his mind once this job, you, were done and gone. 

It’s strange, this relationship you’ve fallen into. He doesn’t talk much unless prompted, not unless you forgot something or need anything. But you like to think that you could start to rely on his silence. Especially when doctors and nurses give you all those complicated jargons that you didn’t even need.

It fills the void in a way words can’t. When you’re too tired to make conversation with visitors, when there are visitors, probably motivated by guilt or necessity, your grim reaper Megumi is there. Unfailingly, he would be sitting by your bedside, his gaze steady, his presence grounding. As though he wants to give you strength to deal with it all. 

But of course, as  you already know, no one else can see him. Just you. At first, you tried explaining him to the nurses, the doctors,  or when you felt like talking about something you knew he would listen to — but the looks they gave you were enough to stop. They chalked it up to the illness, the stress, or the medications. 

But Megumi is real. You know he’s real. The way he moves, the way he seems to sense your thoughts before you speak them, the way he exists on the edges of your life without ever intruding.

The way a glint in his eyes would appear warmer than before. He was here. He was there with you. You weren’t going crazy. And he knew that too. He was the only one that knew that.

One day, in the suffocating stillness of the hospital ward, you finally ask him the question that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pale light filtering through the blinds casts long shadows on the sterile white walls.

And the quiet hum of distant monitors feels unbearably loud. You shift uncomfortably in your bed, clutching the thin blanket as if it could anchor you to something solid.

“Why are you here?” The words escape your lips before you can stop them. Your voice is quiet, hesitant, but the question feels monumental, breaking the fragile peace between you.

Megumi doesn’t look surprised. He’s seated in the chair by your bed, one leg crossed over the other, his posture as calm as always. His gaze lifts from the book he’s been reading, something he always seems to have in his hands.

Though you’ve never seen him get past the halfway mark. He seems to be carrying it as though it was a prayer book he was forced to hold at a sermon at church.

“To watch you.” he says simply, his tone neutral. There’s no elaboration, no attempt to soften the starkness of his answer. As though it was almost like his words were that of fact. You furrow your brow, confused.

“I know that….But why? Why do you keep on watching me this closely?” you press, the weight of his presence suddenly more tangible. He isn’t like the nurses or the doctors who flit in and out of the room. He doesn’t belong here—not in the way they do.

“Are you uncomfortable about it?” 

You blinked at him, your mouth agape for a moment. “N–no.”

“Okay, then. I’ll continue on doing what I want.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. You like to think that it was all you were going to get from him. So you just sighed, leaning against your hospital bed and closing your eyes. This was the most he’d ever talk to you, and perhaps the longest. That could be a win, right?

“For you.” He spoke again, as though he couldn’t handle the silence between you. 

“For me?” you echo, your voice almost a whisper. The words feel foreign, as though they belong to someone else. “What does that mean?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion you can’t name. Not pity, not detachment, but something softer. “Does my reason matter?”

“You have me curious now.” You whisper to him, letting out a small laugh. “What was your reason?” you ask him again.

Though deep down, you think you already know. The thought lodges itself in your chest, sharp and unwelcome. Megumi doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. His gaze holds yours for some time, steady and unwavering. 

“I made a promise I’d like to keep.” he says finally, the words carrying a gravity that makes your breath hitch.

“What promise?”

His eyes narrowed at you, almost as though it was full of hurt. “You don’t want to know.”

The suffocating stillness of the room presses down on you, but somehow, his presence feels like a small crack of light breaking through the weight of it all. You want to ask more—how he knows, why he cares, but the words catch in your throat, tangled in the storm of your thoughts.

It’s such a brief answer, yet it lingers with you long after the words fade. There’s no pity in his voice, no judgment, just a quiet truth that settles like a blanket over your weary mind. And in some inexplicable way, that’s enough.

So, instead you nod, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. It’s not acceptance, not yet, but maybe it’s the beginning of it. And Megumi, patient as ever, doesn’t push for more. He simply stays, his quiet presence a reminder that, whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.

Over time, Megumi’s presence becomes less foreboding and more… comforting. If someone told you a grim reaper could be anything close to a friend, you would’ve laughed. But now? You’re not so sure.

He still doesn’t talk much, but the moments he does are starting to feel less like obligations and more like. Well, like he cares. His dry humor catches you off guard sometimes, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips when you grumble about hospital food or tell him a ridiculous story from your childhood that you’re shocked you even remember.

“They let you keep a pet fish in third grade?” he asks one day, his eyebrow quirking ever so slightly.

“Let me? No, I smuggled it back to the orphanage.” you reply, puffing your chest out like it’s something to be proud of. “Named him Mr. Bubbles. He lived in a mason jar by our shared windowsill until one of the staff found him.”

Megumi gives you a sidelong glance, and for a second, you think he’s about to scold you. But instead, his lips quirk into the tiniest smile. “Mr. Bubbles, huh.” he repeats, almost to himself, and the sound of it in his voice makes your chest feel light.

He’s always a comfort in the painful days of longevity treatments. You were getting even worse, not even the precious medication was working. Megumi was the one to urge you to continue, even if they were never going to do anything for you.

After all, he was here for a reason. Nothing was going to help. And yet, he still insists that having more time is better than having little.

This time, you like to think you could agree with him. With more time, you could continue to have Megumi by your side. You could continue to have conversations with him.

You could continue to see his small ghostly smiles and find him sitting there beside you, looking through pages of that book he never reads. You could have more time living, experiencing some good in your life – a good that was waiting on death’s door. 

Sitting in the chair beside you, his legs crossed casually, as though he’s simply there for the ambiance and not because you’re hooked up to an IV that feels like it’s siphoning the life out of you. Sometimes, you fall asleep mid-session, and when you wake up, you find him sitting exactly as he was, as if not a single moment has passed for him.

“I wasn’t sleeping at all.” you insist groggily one day, blinking the drowsiness away. “How could you even know I was sleeping at all? I know, it’s my body!”

“You were drooling.” he counters flatly, gesturing toward your chin. “Look, it’s still there in the corner of your lips.”

You hurriedly swipe at your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I was not!”

His expression doesn’t change, but you swear there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He could be a trickster when he wants to be. He could be silly from time to time. And funny enough with that dry humor that you could cry tears as you laugh so hard at what he says.

Despite his initial stoicism, Megumi starts picking up on your quirks, learning the things that make you smile. And most days now, especially now with these horrible and miserable treatments, you looked forward to them. 

Like the time he noticed you doodling on the edge of your treatment log and, the next day, casually handed you a pack of gel pens. Your face conforms to a confused daze as you look at him and then at the gel pens in your hand. There were so many that you don’t even think you could count them.

“How the hell did you get this, Megumi?” You asked him, your eyes narrowing at him. “Why are there so many?”

“They were free.” he said, refusing to meet your eyes as you stared at the colorful bundle in awe.

“From where?” you asked, skeptical at his response to you.

“Places.” He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Megumi.” you drawled, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Do you want the pens or not?” he huffed, crossing his arms in a way that made him look surprisingly boyish. “They’re really good too. I tried them downstairs. And they’re free. What? Is the security going to look at your bag when you leave? This isn’t a mall, you know.”

You looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded at his sudden ridiculous tirade. Then slowly, your tummy rumbled as you laughed and laughed. The notion of it all was silly. Still, you were entertained by it. Megumi seemed glad that you laughed. And that you went along with all of it. 

You took the pens, of course. You put them in your bag after he handed it to you. No one checked it and for the rest of the day, you tried them and made little doodles with them on your notepad at home. And that day, for the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely happy.

As much as Megumi claims he’s only there to “watch” you as part of his job, you found that it’s obvious he’s doing more than that. He’s doing the most out of all grim reapers you like to think.

Of course, you don’t know any other grim reapers. And you doubt you’d look sane if you tried to bring it up to another dying person. But your grim reaper, at least you, was the kindest. 

As you settle into bed, the hospital room bathed in the faint glow of a bedside lamp, you glance over at Megumi. He’s sitting in his usual chair, arms folded loosely, his expression calm but watchful.

It’s become routine now. His quiet presence is a constant that you’ve come to rely on, though you’d never admit it outright.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. 

Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor.

You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or perhaps a glimmer of gratitude he’d never put into words. His lips purse into a flat line, as he looks at you. You could tell that there’s something in his green–blue orbs that you couldn’t read. But you knew better than to ask.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you say after a moment, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“For what?” he asks, his gaze steady on you.

“For being the first good thing in my life.” you say simply, your chest tightening as you force the words out. 

It feels strange to say, especially to someone like him. You know you shouldn’t be thanking the person meant to take your soul, the one who will guide you into the unknown. But it feels right. You swallow hard, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. 

“I know it sounds ridiculous. Thanking a grim reaper. But I mean it. You were... the kindest thing in my destiny. And I think that’s enough to be happy about.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything right away. He doesn’t need to. The faintest nod of his head, the subtle softening of his usually stoic expression, is answer enough. The weight in your chest eases as you let your head sink into the pillow. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fight to keep them open just a little longer. 

“Goodnight, Megumi.” you murmur, your voice trailing off as sleep begins to take hold.

“Good night.” he says softly, his voice carrying a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

As your breathing slows, becoming steady and rhythmic, Megumi stays where he is, his gaze fixed on you. And he knows. He just knows—it’s time. Your time. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and bittersweet, but he doesn’t flinch.

This was always the inevitability, but watching you now, peaceful and free from the fear that had once gripped you, he feels something akin to relief. Perhaps even a quiet sadness.

When the time comes, Megumi will be there, as he always has been. For now, though, he lets you rest, a faint sense of solace settling over the room.

══════════════════

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, THIS MISSION WASN’T EVEN FOR HIM TO TAKE. Megumi didn’t choose this assignment at random. No, not at all. That morning began like any other in the sterile monotony of his existence. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow on the rows of cubicles where reapers sat, reviewing their tasks for the day. 

He’d been staring at the dregs of his coffee, debating whether he had the energy to bother getting a fresh cup, when the assignments for the day appeared on the board—a mosaic of names, dates, faces.

He’d glanced up, disinterested at first. It was just another day in an endless cycle of endings. Souls came and went, and reapers like him did their jobs, guiding them to whatever came next. There was no time for attachment, no reason to linger on a single name or face.

But then he saw yours.

And everything stopped.

His coffee cup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor in a muted crash. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He blinked once, twice, as if his eyes might be playing tricks on him. But no matter how many times he looked, it was unmistakable.

It was you.

Your face stared back at him from the board, frozen in a candid snapshot. It was a face he knew better than his own, even after all this time. A face he’d never forgotten, not even through lifetimes of distance.

It had been so long since he’d last seen you. Lifetimes ago, you had been more than just a part of his world—you had been his world. The memories were fractured and blurred at the edges, but they still burned vividly enough to hurt.

He remembered your laugh, bright and unrestrained, echoing through a life that had otherwise been far too short. He remembered the way you had looked at him, your gaze full of trust, full of hope.

He remembered losing you.

And now here you are again, pulled into this cycle of life and death that neither of you could escape. But this time, you were already dying. You were going to go and suffer again, and there would be no one to save you. He couldn’t stop it last time. And now, he cannot stop it this time. It was set in stone already.

And yet, his heart breaks over and over again. You were barely more than a child, younger than either of you had been in your shared past life. You hadn’t even been given a chance to live, and yet the world had decided it was already time to take you away.

Megumi’s heart ached in a way he hadn’t thought possible anymore. He was a reaper. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But as he stared at your photo, the weight of it all crushed him.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you’d been taken from him once, and now it was happening all over again. This time, there would be no miracles, no last-minute reprieves. He knew that. He’d seen it a thousand times in other lives.

But he couldn’t just let you go alone.

Without thinking, he rose from his chair, his movements mechanical as he walked toward the board. Each step felt heavier than the last, his resolve hardening with every breath. When he reached your name, he stared at it for a long moment before finally speaking.

“I’ll take this one.” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The room went silent. Assignments weren’t supposed to be chosen; they were distributed at random to avoid any emotional entanglements. Reapers were meant to be impartial. But no one questioned him. Megumi rarely spoke, rarely asked for anything. If he wanted this assignment, there had to be a reason.

As he returned to his desk, your face still fresh in his mind, he made himself a quiet promise. He couldn’t save you. The rules were clear. Your fate was already written, and nothing he did could change that.

But he could be there. He could make sure you didn’t have to face the end alone, that you wouldn’t have to feel the crushing loneliness he’d once felt when he lost you before.

Even if you didn’t remember him. Even if you didn’t know that in another life, you had been his entire world. He would carry that pain for both of you. Because this wasn’t just another assignment. It was you. And losing you again, even knowing it was inevitable, would be the cruelest fate of all.

When Megumi first appeared to you, he knew he had to keep his emotions in check. His job wasn’t to interfere, and no matter how much it hurt to see you again, he couldn’t let the truth slip. You didn’t know who he was, didn’t recognize the connection you’d once shared.

And why would you? To you, he was just a stranger. A quiet, brooding figure who had been assigned to shadow your dying days.

At first, he told himself that keeping his distance would make it easier. That if he stayed aloof, if he acted like this was just another assignment, maybe the ache in his chest wouldn’t consume him. But the moment he saw how lonely you were, trapped in a hospital bed, tethered to machines, fading faster than anyone your age should—he couldn’t help himself.

It was the little things at first. Reminding you of a nurse’s name when your memory failed. Offering a quiet presence during your treatments. Bringing you that pack of gel pens when he noticed your fingers twitching over the edges of your journal, longing to create something amidst the monotony of hospital life.

But as the days turned into weeks, Megumi found himself doing more than he should.

He started sitting closer to you, his usual stoic demeanor softening with every conversation. He started bringing you small comforts—a cup of coffee he swore he “found” a scarf on the day the hospital felt too cold, a faint smile when you told him a joke, no matter how bad it was.

“Why do you even hang around?” you asked one afternoon, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and weariness. 

You’d just finished another grueling medicinal session, your body too weak to sit up straight. He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his dark blue–green eyes. Then, he shrugged.

“You’re interesting to me.” he said simply, but his voice betrayed the truth he couldn’t say.

You laughed weakly. “Interesting? I’m a walking tragedy.”

“No, never say that. Not ever again.” he said firmly, his tone surprising you. “You’re more than that. You are more than your tragedy.”

The words hung in the air, and you didn’t press further. But in that moment, something shifted between you. As time went on, you began to look forward to his visits. He wasn’t just a reaper to you anymore; he was someone who made the unbearable a little more bearable. 

Someone who listened when you needed to vent, who stayed when the nights felt too long, who reminded you that even in the shadow of death, you weren’t invisible. And Megumi… Megumi was breaking all his own rules. Rules he had set long after you, long before you again.

Every time he saw you laugh, even if it was just a fleeting chuckle, a part of him swore he’d do anything to keep that spark alive. But every time he saw you struggle; when your hands trembled too much to hold a pen, when your memories slipped further and further away—his heart ached in ways it hadn’t in centuries.

He hated this. Hated that you had to go through this. Hated that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change your fate. But he stayed by your side through it all. He lets himself relive it all over again, no matter the pain. No matter what comes. Because it’s you. Come what may, it’s you.

“You know, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the hum of the machines. “You’re not so bad to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. “Not so bad?”

You smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but still warm. “Yeah. You’re like... a friend. A precious friend.”

A friend. The word stabbed at him more than it should have. Because that’s all he could ever be to you in this life. A friend. A shadow. A quiet presence watching over you as you slowly slipped away.

“You think so, huh?” He asks you, as you nodded and smiled. Silence engulfs the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been someone’s precious friend before.”

“Then we are the same. Well, almost.” 

He blinks at your words. “What do you mean?”

“If you call me your precious friend too, then we’ll finally have it. Being a precious person, at least once.”

You’ve always been a precious person to me. Megumi thinks to himself. In every lifetime, in every you — you have always been my precious person.

And even though he would never tell you the truth, that you’d been so much more to him in another life, that losing you once had broken him and losing you again was killing him all over again, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. 

Because this was his last chance to be with you, even if you didn’t remember him. Even if it would never be enough. Nothing with you would ever be enough, not even if you lived a thousand years. 

But, every moment is worth it, no matter how short it would be. When you love someone that much, it has to be enough. It has to be more than enough. He has to live through this immortal and wretched life, making those moments feel like they were as eternal as him. Even if he wanted more.

“Alright.” Megumi says to you as you perk up, your eyes shining. “You are a precious person to me.”

You giggled at his words. “Was it so hard to say? I am grateful that you said it at all.”

It was never hard to say. It never had been.

But now he has to live that memory over and over again.

He lets his lips echo a small warm smile as he looks at you.

“No, no it wasn’t hard at all.”

══════════════════

THE TREATMENTS HAVE STOPPED FULLY. And because of that your condition was getting worse and worse. The moments of clarity you once had were growing fewer and farther between. The pain in your body became an unwelcome constant, a weight that pulled you down even when you tried to fight against it. 

Every movement felt like dragging yourself through glass, and the fog in your mind thickened, stealing memories and thoughts before you could fully grasp them. Everything about it felt so fragile, and you were afraid of breaking it. Even if it was already broken, you were scared at seeing it break even more. You were scared and he couldn’t do much about it.

Megumi hated seeing you like this. He watched as you lay curled in your bed, tears streaming silently down your face, your breathing shaky and uneven. He hated the way your hands trembled as you gripped the blanket.

It was as if holding onto it might keep you tethered to something real. Something solid enough to bring you back to earth, to existence. To humanity. Hated the way your voice cracked when you spoke, each word laced with frustration and grief over what was slipping away from you.

“I hate this, I hate this.” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible. Your chest hitched with a quiet sob as you turned your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your cries. “I hate... not being able to think. To remember. I feel like I’m disappearing, and I can’t stop it.”

Megumi clenched his fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words felt like ash in his throat. What could he say? That it would be okay? That you’d find peace? That this agony would end? None of it felt true, and none of it would matter to you at this moment.

You didn’t want peace. You wanted your life back.When you looked up at him, your eyes red  and swollen, the sight nearly broke him. You looked so weak, one couldn’t even think you were someone with such strength at one point. He hated this. He hated how miserable you’ve been, how pained you’ve been.

“I’m so tired, Megumi.” you admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Megumi moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were afraid his presence might shatter you further. He sat at the edge of your bed, his usually impassive face shadowed with something raw and unguarded.

“You’re still you, you always will be.” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You let out a bitter laugh, though it came out more like a choked sob. “How do you know that? You don’t even really know me.”

He froze for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands. He wanted to tell you that he did know you, better than anyone ever could. That he remembered you in ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine. But he couldn’t. Not now.

Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he let it settle gently against your trembling fingers. The touch was warm, grounding, and for a moment, the chaos inside you stilled.

“I know because I saw it. I’ve seen it all, even for a while.” he said finally. “Even when you’re hurting, even when it feels like everything is falling apart, I see you.”

His words hung in the air, fragile but steady, and something in your expression slowly softened. You leaned closer to him and he didn’t mind it at all. He pulled you even closer, letting that warmth of him become even more felt.

“It’s okay to be angry about all of this.” he continued, his voice steady now. “It’s okay to cry. You’ve been fighting so hard, for so long. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Your tears flowed freely then, and Megumi stayed right where he was, his hand never leaving yours. He didn’t try to stop your sobs or hush your pain. He simply stayed, letting you pour out everything you’d been holding back. And for the first time in centuries, in his entire lifetime — Megumi couldn’t help but feel unequivocally  helpless.

He was a reaper, meant to guide and observe, but watching you crumble under the weight of your illness was unbearable. You didn’t deserve all of this. You shouldn’t suffer like this. You had done nothing wrong, not in your previous life and not this one. But this was still your fate. 

And he hated the unfairness of it all, the cruelty of a life that had given you so little only to take it away too soon. If he could have taken your place, he would have done it without hesitation.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t trade a life for a life. The gods do not have mercy in that regard. Fate was fate. He cannot do much about it. And he hates it. He hates seeing you like this. 

All he could do was stay by your side, no matter how much it hurt to watch. Because you deserved that much. You deserve someone who wouldn’t leave, even in your darkest moments. And Megumi would be damned if he let you face this alone.

As the night deepened, the room fell into a heavy, fragile silence. The only sounds were the steady hum of the machines and your quiet, uneven breaths as you lay spent from crying. Megumi hadn’t moved from his spot, his hand still lightly covering yours.

Your fingers twitched against his, seeking more warmth. The motion was subtle, but he noticed. Carefully, he threaded his fingers between yours, his grip firm but not overbearing. You didn’t pull away. Instead, your grip tightened just a little, like you were holding on to him for dear life.

“Why do you stay?” you asked, your voice hoarse from the tears but tinged with something vulnerable. You didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the faint outline of his hand entwined with yours.

Megumi hesitated. He wasn’t good at this—at talking about feelings. He was better at quiet gestures and staying in the background. But something about the way you asked, so small and uncertain, pulled the words out of him.

“Because you shouldn’t have to go through this alone, jot ever.” he said softly, his gaze fixed on you.

You blinked at his answer, a lump forming in your throat. “But you don’t even know me, not at all, Megumi.” you repeated, weaker this time, as if you wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite bring yourself to. “How could you stay for someone like me?”

Megumi’s jaw tightened. 

You didn’t know half of it.

“I know enough.” he said finally. “I know you’re stubborn and strong, even when you feel like you’re not. I know you don’t like hospital food, but you’ll eat it anyway because you don’t want to make the nurses worry. I know you still draw on the edges of your notebooks, even when your hands shake so much that the lines go crooked.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words and Megumi felt his heart clench at the way you were looking at him, like you were seeing him for the first time. And as though, it was the first time in a while you had known him that he truly saw you.

“I see you.” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every part of you, even the ones you think you’ve lost. They’re still there. You’re still here.”

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t from frustration or anger. They were something softer, quieter. You take a deep breath, to calm yourself for a moment.

And he brushes your hand against your own. He was so warm, even when your hands were cold. He warmed you enough back to life, even for just that moment. 

“You make it sound like I’m worth something.” you murmured, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips.

“You are. You always have been.” he said instantly, the conviction in his voice startling you. “More than you know. I promise you.”

Your chest ached, not from the illness this time, but from the overwhelming mixture of emotions his words stirred in you. It was almost too much, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop bringing you back to life. You didn’t want him to stop giving you reasons to want to live.

“Megumi.” you said quietly, finally looking up at him.

His name sounded different coming from you, like it carried more weight, more meaning than it ever had before. It was as warm as back then, when you would say his name and smile at him, like he was your world. Like he was someone you dearly loved.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was afraid of breaking the moment.

You hesitated, your dulling eyes searching for something you couldn’t quite put into words. Then, with a shaky breath, you smiled—a real smile, small but genuine.“Thank you. For all you have done for me, for all you will ever do for me. Thank you.”

Megumi’s lips couldn’t help but twitch at your words, and for the first time, he allowed himself to give you a wide smile in return. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it was for you, only for you. And you knew that it was only for you.

“Don’t mention it.” he said, his usual stoicism creeping back into his tone, but there was an undeniable warmth beneath it.

That night, as you finally drifted off to sleep, your hand still holding his, Megumi stayed by your side. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, each breath a reminder that you were still here, still fighting. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Megumi let himself hope.

Not for a miracle, no. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe in those anymore—but for something smaller. He hoped that in the time you had left, he could make sure you knew you weren’t just a fleeting soul, a name on a list, a face on a board. 

You were everything to him, even if you never remembered why. And as he sat there, his hand still holding yours in the quiet of the night, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could carry that truth for both of you.

══════════════════

HE KNEW THAT HE CAN’T KEEP BUYING TIME. That’s not how it works in this line of work. The higher-ups had been patient with Megumi for as long as they could. They had watched from a distance as he ignored the rules, as he lingered at your side longer than necessary.

He had been told once, perhaps twice, that his attachment was blurring the lines of his duty. But no one had come forward to confront him, not until now.

The meeting room was cold, sterile—just like all the others. It was almost like the hospital. It even smells like it too. The flickering lights did nothing to soften the sharp voices of his superiors, their words cutting through him like a blade. Megumi has always hated this room. As much as you hate the hospitals. 

He has lived for a long time. He has been in the reaper department for so long, he doesn’t even remember when he had started. But no matter how many times he stays in it, the smell will always linger and he hates it. Just as much as he hates the higher-ups, perhaps. Yet, he knew he couldn’t admit it out loud.

“Megumi, this isn’t working any longer.” One of them had said it, their voice cutting through the stale air of the room like a blade, sharp with frustration.

The council sat in their cold, unfeeling silence, their dark robes blending into the shadows that clung to the room. The words echoed in Megumi’s ears, even as he sat still, his fists clenched tightly under the table.

“They are already dying,” the voice continued, each word hammering against him. “You know this, you always have. Fate cannot be changed. You cannot keep delaying it. You’re prolonging their suffering, and you know it. We cannot let this go on any longer.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His blue-green eyes stayed fixed on the floor, a storm brewing behind them. He didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, because deep down, he knew they were right. He could feel it every time he saw you. 

In this way your body grew weaker with each passing day, as if life itself was slipping through your fingers. Each breath you took was a silent battle, and every glance you gave him carried an unspoken understanding that your time was coming.

But what they didn’t understand, what they couldn’t understand, was why he couldn’t just let go. Not yet. Not when your laughter still lingered in the corners of the hospital room.

Not when you still found the strength to smile at him, even through the haze of your pain. Not when you had thanked him—thanked him—for being the kindest thing in your life. How could he take that away from you? How could he take it away from himself?

“It’s not for your benefit that they should stay alive, you know that.” another elder said, their voice low but unyielding, like a hammer falling against stone. “Do it for their sake. The sooner you do it, the sooner they can find peace. You mustn’t prolong the suffering for your wants.”

The words cut deeper than Megumi would ever admit, a blow he wasn’t prepared for. His fists tightened until his nails bit into his palms, but he kept his gaze down, unwilling to let them see the flicker of defiance in his eyes. 

He wanted to scream at them, to tell them they didn’t understand, that it wasn’t about his wants, it never had been. It was about you. About giving you every last moment, every fleeting second that you deserved, no matter how much it hurt him to watch.

But none of that mattered to them. The rules were the rules. His mission was clear: guide souls to the other side, no matter the cost, no matter the pain. He was meant to be impartial, detached, but he wasn’t. Not this time.

As the meeting adjourned, their final words hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck. “You have to let them go, Megumi.” the elder had said, their tone devoid of sympathy. “It’s not about you. It’s about them. Do what must be done.”

When the room emptied, Megumi remained seated, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their judgment. He wanted to argue, to push back against the inevitability they demanded he enforce. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t delay forever. 

He could feel the edges of your life fraying, could see the way the light in your eyes flickered, like a candle in its final moments. And yet, even as he sat there, alone in the suffocating silence, he made a decision.

Not yet.

Because you deserve those moments, however brief they might be. You deserved the warmth of the sun on your skin, the chance to smile one more time, the chance to feel something other than pain before the end. And if he could give you that, even at the cost of his own heart, he would.

But he also knew the truth, the one he couldn’t ignore forever. Time wasn’t on your side. And when the moment came, when the inevitability could no longer be postponed, Megumi would have to let you go.

Just not today.

Not yet.

He needs more time.

When the meeting ended, Megumi didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mind was too heavy with the weight of their demands, and yet his heart felt too torn to process it. He takes a moment to compose himself before he walks out. 

As he walked out into the hallway, he wasn’t surprised to find Gojo Satoru waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall with that ever-present, cocky grin on his face. The two of them had known each other for lifetimes, especially with how Gojo was now his boss. 

Though Gojo was the opposite of Megumi in nearly every way. Where Megumi was reserved and quiet, Gojo was loud and unapologetic. He hated the elders too, he hated the rules as much as Megumi too. 

But he had never let himself be swallowed by what he feels personally as he works. And Gojo Satoru knew that too well, when he saw that look in Megumi’s face. He had not taught him well enough to separate it all. 

“Megumi, hey.” Gojo said, his voice a little more serious than usual. “Can we talk?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gojo pushed himself off the wall and fell into step beside Megumi, leading him down a quieter hall away from the bustling administrative wing. He already knew what he was going to say.

But Megumi wishes he wouldn’t say it. Because when Gojo says it, it becomes even more real. It becomes even more true. And it’s something he can’t handle. Not right now.

“I know what you’re thinking, okay?” Gojo began, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “And I know it’s hard.”

He’s saying it. He’s talking about it. There was nothing that would stop it from being real. Not anymore. Megumi didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.

Gojo  Satoru could always read him, could always sense what was going on under the surface, even when Megumi tried to hide it. He was always going to tell Megumi the truth, even when it was hard.

“I don’t get it, Gojo–san.” Megumi said, his voice low, rough from the strain of keeping it all in. “I know the rules. I know they have to go. But… but I can’t just let them die like this. Not again. Not this miserably.” 

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Gojo, his face a mix of frustration and sorrow. “They’re suffering so much and miserable to boot, and I’m supposed to just… let them go? How is that even fair?”

Gojo’s expression softened, the usual smugness gone, replaced by something much more genuine. He took a step closer, his hands in his pockets as he regarded Megumi with quiet understanding. He takes a deep sigh.

“I know it’s not easy, kid.” Gojo said, his voice lower now, almost tender. “But this isn’t about what you want. You’re not their savior, Megumi. You’re their guide. You can’t heal them, that’s not part of the job description. It never was. You can’t protect them from everything.”

The words stung, sharper than Megumi expected. 

But it was the truth, the unavoidable truth.

This was a job, even if it meant the world to him.

It cannot be more than a job, not even like this.

“I know you care about them. Hell, you’re probably more attached than anyone in this damn place,” Gojo continued, the hint of a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But your job is to make them transition to something peaceful. To comfort them. Not to prolong their suffering because you’re too scared to let them go.”

Megumi looked away, his blue–green eyes burning with the weight of his own guilt. He could feel them water ever so slowly as he thinks about you, about everything you suffered — in all your lives. And now, when you suffered the most. He bit his lower lip. How could he just let it all go?

“I can’t just stand by and watch them die, Gojo–san.” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, betraying the deep ache inside him. “Not like this. Not when I… when I care about them this much. Not when….Not when I love them so much.”

Gojo Satoru’s gaze softened further, taking a moment to sigh at him. He’d known Megumi for so long. He’s a good kid, he’s always been the best of everyone here, if he was being honest. But even now, he was still so human. And perhaps that is his weakness. He cannot be a reaper, and be human too. He cannot have both.

“I know, kid. I know.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But this is the hardest part. You have to be strong for them now. It’s time. And you have to do your job. You have to help them let go. That’s the only way they’ll be able to be free from the pain, okay? If you do your job. They’ll be free. And it can be, if anything, the greatest act of love.”

Megumi wanted to argue, wanted to lash out and scream that it wasn’t fair, that this wasn’t right. But something in Gojo’s cerulean eyes made him stop. Gojo Satoru wasn’t just talking about the rules; he was talking about them. About the person Megumi had come to love more than anything in this world, someone who was ever so dear to him in each and every lifetime. 

He was right. He can’t do anything about death or about fate. And he was right — death was the greatest mercy, instead of suffering. This could be the greatest act of love, as it had always been in each lifetime. To be there for you, to hold your hand and whisper all the love he has in your ear as you go. To set you free.

The truth was hard to swallow, but the reality was clearer than ever. Your suffering wasn’t going to end unless he let you go. And if he truly cared about you, he would have to find the strength to be the one to guide you to peace. With a deep breath, Megumi nodded, the weight of his decision settling in.

“I’ll do it, Gojo–san.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ll make sure they’re at peace.”

Gojo gave him a small, approving nod. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Megumi knew it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever do. But as he turned back down to earth, to the hall toward where you were waiting, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come, he also knew it was the only way to truly set you free. 

He just hoped that, somehow, you would understand. And that you would forgive him. That you would smile warmly back at him once again, when you meet him again in your next life. That you could love him again, if you can.

══════════════════

HE BRACED HIMSELF FOR WHAT COMES NEXT. Megumi stood outside your hospital room, his heart heavy in his chest. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft beep of monitors and the occasional shuffle of nurses’ footsteps the only sounds that kept him tethered to reality. 

He had never been so sure of something—so certain that this moment had arrived. It was time. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Having done it once didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made it harder. He’d have to relive this moment over and over again, like all the other times.

But he had no other choice. If you were to die, he’d rather it be him holding you. He would rather it be him you hurt, leave a scar only he could see. Megumi would rather that he would be the one to comfort you one last time, to tell you that he’s got you. That everything will be alright. Because you were together. Because he was the one taking you away.

You were there, propped up against the pillows, looking so small under the white sheets. Your face was pale, your features drawn and tired, but when you saw him, your expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You're here again, hm?" you said, your voice hoarse but warm.

Megumi stood frozen for a moment, the sight of you sending a wave of emotions crashing over him. You looked so fragile, so close to the edge, and yet here you were, smiling at him like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t been battling this slow, painful decline for so long.

He forced his lips into a small, bittersweet smile. "Of course I’m here."

You sat up a little straighter in your bed, your eyes trying to focus on him. There was a faint sense of confusion in them, as if the fog in your mind was thicker than usual today. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you sought his, and Megumi moved closer, carefully taking your hand in his.

"I didn’t know if you'd come today, you know." you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “For the last time.”

Megumi felt the weight of your words press against his chest. You couldn’t remember everything, not anymore, but you remembered him. And somehow, that was a mercy. A small one, but a mercy nonetheless. He hated it, but it was all he had. It was all there was left.

"I’m always here when you need me, always." he said quietly, his voice unsteady despite the calm he tried to project. "You know that, right?"

You nodded slowly, as though trying to make sense of everything that was slipping through your fingers. The memory of his voice, the sensation of his presence, the feel of his hand in yours—it was enough to pull you back from the brink.

"I... I don’t remember... a lot." you confessed, your voice faltering, as though you were apologizing for something you couldn’t control. "But... I remember you."

Megumi’s heart squeezed at that, and he fought the urge to crumble. Don’t show weakness now, he told himself. Not with them. Not when they need you the most. Don’t falter. Love them, love them even if it hurts. 

“I’ll always be here.” he repeated softly, gently squeezing your hand. “You’ve always been important to me. You always will be.”

You tried to smile again, though it was faint, and the effort seemed to take everything out of you. "I wish I could remember everything... all the good stuff we did together. There was a lot, wasn’t it? Even before…..I’m sorry if I don’t remember it all. But I can remember you right now, Megumi. I hope that’s enough. I hope…I hope that’s alright."

He felt his eyes sting, but he held it back, keeping his gaze steady on yours. "That’s enough. That’s more than enough."

Your grip tightened a little on his hand, your eyes slowly drifting over his face, as if committing his features to memory, trying to remember every detail of him before the fog came back.

 "It’s always so funny to me." you whispered, a soft laugh escaping your lips despite the heaviness in the air. "You don’t look like a grim reaper."

Megumi chuckled quietly, the sound devoid of any real humor. "I get that a lot."

The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt almost peaceful, like the calm before the storm. You leaned back against the pillows, but you didn’t let go of his hand.There were so many things he wanted to say to you. 

So many words that were caught in his throat, threatening to spill over. But now—now there was no time for them. No time for the confessions, for the truth he’d never dared to speak. He simply stayed there, sitting at your side, holding your hand, because that was all he could do.

When you spoke again, it was quieter, slower. "I don’t want to forget you, not ever, not now." you said, your voice so fragile, so raw. "But I know I will. I already am."

Megumi shook his head, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of your hand, as though to comfort you, even though the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come. He couldn't promise you anything, couldn't tell you that this would all be okay, because it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll never forget you.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll remember for the both of us. Even when you aren’t here anymore.”

“Then….will you let me fall in love with you again, if I were to be reborn?” You asked him, tears in your eyes pouring down your cheeks. “Will you let me, Megumi?”

His breath hitches shakily. His lips wobbled into a small watery smile. “Of course, I will. You can love me as many times as you want. I’ll let you do it. Over and over again.”

You choked into a giggle. “Then….Then, I’m glad. I’m forgetful, after all. It’s good, you’ll remind me next time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Even at the end, you were taking care of him. You were making sure he wasn’t sad. You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a brief moment, the confusion in your eyes faded. 

The fog cleared, just a little, and you smiled. It was a small, soft smile, but it was there, and it was for him. All for him. As it always has been. You take a moment, a breath. He waits patiently for what you want to say.

“I wish…..” you whispered, your voice trailing off as your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally taking over.

Megumi’s chest tightened as he waited.  

But the words never came out of your lips. 

As you slipped into a quiet sleep, your breath steady and calm, Megumi stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours. He knew it wasn’t enough to stop what was coming. But for now, he will hold on. He will cherish the warmth that remains. 

It was the last time. The last time he would see you, the last time he would hear your voice, the last time he would get to make you feel comforted before you let go. And somehow, it was enough. Because you remembered him. And that was all that mattered now.

“I love you.” He whispers to you as he closes his eyes, letting the tears flow. “Goodbye.”

[whatatime2balive]

It's (Not) My Right To Be Hellish

Pairing: Caitlyn x Vi

(A/n: I made this fic last night and completely forgot to post it to my tumblr account. I will post the ao3 link right after this.  I found out that the creator of Arcane had a headcanon that Vi had a prison wife and I was like "what if I used that in a fic to cause problems!" Alright, so this essentially takes place after the battle act 2 in season 2. We're just pretending that some random magical occurrence stopped the fight early and both sides had to retreat with minimal casualties. Also this is post heartbreaking apology from Caitlyn so her and Vi are friends again. I have not seen act 3 yet so this is all merely under the assumption of everything I know now. Anyways, I love jealousy fics so please enjoy and let me know what you think!)

Vi feels dead on her feet, which is a rather common occurrence these days. As she walked alongside Caitlyn and Maddie, she began replaying the past few weeks in her head as she usually does no matter how hard she tries to ignore it. The battle against Ambessa ended before it even really began. After Isha shot that gun into the air, a massive earthquake broke out which completely destabilized the surface everyone was standing on. It didn't matter what side you were fighting for, everyone immediately fled to get to safety. Honestly, Vi thinks it's a blessing in disguise.

Vander's condition is still up in the air, but they're holding out hope he will pull through. Isha was badly injured from the blast, but they managed to get her to a hospital before the kid went beyond the point of no return. Poor girl can't stay conscious for more than ten minutes, but she's stable and the doctors said she will only improve from here. Jinx hasn't left Isha's side once since she was hospitalized.

And Jinx, well, it's so beyond complicated. As of right now, her and Caitlyn managed to find it in themselves to call a truce until Ambessa is no longer a threat. They're civil for now, so Vi's content.

The only thing that's significantly changed for the better is Vi's relationship with Caitlyn. After everyone fell back, Caitlyn pretty much broke down and apologized so many times that Vi lost track. Vi was hesitant to put any trust in her, even after the battle against Ambessa. It was more of a temporary team up than anything in her eyes.

But Caitlyn sure as hell made it her mission to prove herself. She's already jumping in and allocating resources back to Zaun to improve their quality of life even though it's only been three weeks since the battle. Seeing how invested Caitlyn is in helping the lives of the citizens in Zaun made Vi open up back up to her and before she knew it, it was like no time had passed at all between them. They were friends again.

The problem is that friends are all they would ever be.

Once the two girls reconciled, Caitlyn told Vi that her and Maddie slept together a couple of times in those four months they weren't on speaking terms. It's like someone took a knife to the Zaunite's chest and tore it open. That was Caitlyn's polite way of saying the kiss she shared with Vi was a one off thing that wouldn't happen again.

The minute Caitlyn finished telling her about the situation with Maddie, Vi had immediately cut her off and said that was perfectly fine. She physically did not think she could stand hearing a verbal rejection from Caitlyn, so Vi merely insisted it was no big issue and changed the subject. Vi can't even blame Maddie, who wouldn't fall in love with Caitlyn?

Even after everything that happened between them, the brawler is still a pathetic lovesick fool over that damn sharpshooter. But now that Caitlyn sincerely apologized and is actively righting her wrongs? Damn, Vi really wants to make out with her.

Yet, she can't. Maddie is the one dating Caitlyn, not Vi.

Vi can't even find it in herself to hate Maddie. As a matter of fact, she became rather fast friends with the shorter woman. Maddie's a sweet girl that's been pushing for peace since the first day she clocked in as an enforcer. She doesn't judge Vi for her past in Stillwater like many other enforcers do and she makes great company since Caitlyn's spent most of her time drowning in work as of late.

At the end of the day, it was probably for the best. Maddie's the kind of girl that can hang on Caitlyn's arm without people watching them in disdain. Since Vi gets more and more pathetic by the day, she will take any small morsels of friendship Caitlyn will offer her.

Even if it hurts, Vi really is just grateful to have that damn unhinged mongoose in her life. Just being friends would be enough. It had to be. Though it certainly doesn't help that Vi essentially moved in with Caitlyn until she can find a place of her own. It doesn't seem to bother Maddie, so Vi's been trying to keep an appropriate distance between herself and the Piltover girl.

Life isn't perfect. Far from it. But Vi has hope now. That is so much more than she could have said one month ago.

Today was beyond draining. She's so fucking exhausted, it was probably a mistake to agree to going out tonight. But, well, Maddie insisted that the two of them along with Caitlyn should get a couple drinks at a nice bar to take a bit of the edge off. Vi's pretty sure there's not enough alcohol in all of Piltover to get all her edges off, but she supposed relaxing even a little bit is progress.

So here Vi is, walking at Caitlyn's right while Maddie is strolling on the tall woman's left as they venture to the bar Vi can't even remember the name of. Vi was snapped out of her inner musings when Maddie lightly tapped her on the shoulder.

"Earth to Vi? You in there?" Maddie softly asked.

"Yeah, sorry, I totally zoned out for a hot minute. What were you saying?" Vi asked apologetically.

"I was saying how excited I am to take a breather. It feels like everything around us has only been getting more and more stressful. A chance to unwind is going to do us all some good," Maddie confidently told her.

"Especially you, Vi. Every time I see you, your brows are furrowed," Caitlyn giggled.

To prove her point, Caitlyn lightly dragged her finger against the middle of Vi's brows to smooth out the creases. Vi didn't even know she was furrowing her brows at all. Caitlyn gently stroked the spot a couple more times and Vi could already feel herself start to lean into the touch. How the hell is she so pathetic that the smallest form of physical contact makes her melt?

"What can I say Cup- oh shit I'm dying," Vi hastily blurted out while pretending to cough.

Calling Caitlyn cupcake is a habit Vi is trying really hard to break. She's seen Maddie look upset a couple times when Vi uses the nickname, so out of respect for their relationship, she's been trying to stop. Vi totally gets it. She knows if she were Caitlyn's girlfriend, another girl giving her some cutesy nickname would piss Vi off to no end.

"You alright Vi?" Maddie frowned.

"Yeah, managed to choke on air somehow. I'm just special that way," Vi lied.

At least she caught herself before saying the full nickname. Vi was about to say something else when a feminine voice behind them started to speak.

"Well I'll be damned. If it isn't inmate 516, roaming free once more," the soft voice laughed.

With absolutely zero hesitation, Vi grabbed the shirts of the two enforcers and dragged them into the alleyway that was conveniently right next to them.

"Get your guns out now," Vi hissed.

Caitlyn already had her rifle pointed before Vi could even finish the sentence. Maddie took a split second before following her boss's lead.

"Who on Earth is that?" Maddie whispered quietly.

"Admittedly, I don't know. But they called me by my prison number and everyone in Stillwater absolutely despised me. Not to mention the fact that anyone who's ever known me has tried beating my ass at least once. Better not chance it," Vi whispered back.

"Oh c'mon Babe, do you really not recognize me? I'm hurt, truly," the voice giggled.

Vi's eyes widened and she stepped out of the alleyway, ignoring both Caitlyn and Maddie's protests. Only one woman has ever called her babe.

"Holy shit. Sarah?" Vi asked with wide eyes.

The figure right before her is wearing a cloak covering her face. Then she pulled it back to confirm Vi's suspicions. Standing right in front of her is Miss Sarah Fortune in the flesh.

"Miss me Babe? I know I missed you," Sarah grinned with open arms.

Vi laughed in pure disbelief and rushed into the other woman's arms. Sarah immediately wrapped her arms around the shorter woman and pulled her in even closer. Vi genuinely can't believe it. After all these years, here she stands, alive and well. Oh, what a relief.

"Of course I missed you. I'm honestly surprised you didn't get your ass thrown back into Stillwater," Vi cackled, holding onto her even tighter.

Sarah looks like she always did, but now she's so much more alive than Vi has ever seen in Stillwater. Obviously, prison tends to dull the average person's inner light and everything, but Sarah very clearly is thriving post imprisonment. Her ginger hair has a shine now that it didn't before, those bright blue eyes held much more wonder, and her lightly tanned skin is much softer than it used to be. Being a free woman suits her well.

"Clearly, our guns are unnecessary in this particular scenario. Who's your friend Vi?" Maddie asked while lowering her gun.

"Yes. Tell us, Vi. Who is your friend?" Caitlyn asked with narrowed eyes.

The way she said friend kind of sounds like the way most people would say disease. She didn't even lower her gun yet. That girl really needs a drink.

"Huh. Never thought you of all people would be rolling with enforcers," Sarah said, still locking Vi in an embrace.

Right, the other two girls are still in uniform. She can understand why Sarah would be weary.

"Ah, well Maddie, Caitlyn, this is Sarah. Sarah, Caitlyn and Maddie. It's a long story, but you can trust them. Maddie's never given me any shit for my past in Stillwater and Caitlyn's the one who actually got me released," Vi explained.

At this point, Sarah unwound herself from the hug. Then, to Vi's immense surprise, she held her hand out to Caitlyn.

"In that case, I should be thanking you. If anyone ever deserved to be free, it's Vi," Sarah said.

"Of course. Vi deserves the world," Caitlyn simply stated while cordially shaking her hand.

Vi is going to try really hard not to blush at that. Try is the key word here. Sarah then went to shake Maddie's hand as well. Apparently living in the free world made the woman civilized. That’s something Vi did not expect.

"Nice to meet you both. I'm sure if you guys can put up with Vi's bitching, you must be alright," Sarah grinned.

Maddie laughed. Caitlyn did not, which surprised Vi because that would be a perfect opportunity to make fun of her. To be fair, Cait's been off tonight anyways. Vi simply scowled and shoved Sarah lightly.

"Please, you know you missed me and my bitching," Vi scoffed playfully.

Sarah grinned and slung her arms around Vi's shoulder. The brawler didn't mind the contact, she's always been a touchy feely kind of person with the people she cares about. Sarah's always been rather physically affectionate too, so this is nothing out of the ordinary. The next words she said were not as ordinary.

"I also miss making you my bitch," Sarah whispered into Vi's ear so quietly only she could hear it.

Vi blushed bright right and immediately nailed the redhead in the stomach with her elbow over the sexual innuendo. Sarah laughed and managed to keep her arms over Vi's shoulders.

"Arrest her on the counts of being insufferable," Vi groaned.

"Please, we'd both be locked up for life," Sarah snorted.

"You two are hilarious together. It's pretty cool that you two are able to reunite now of all times. How long have you guys been friends for?" Maddie asked them.

"Vi and I were a lot more than friends back in Stillwater," Sarah said with a shit eating grin.

It would appear that the blush has only gotten worse. It's so embarrassing that her first instinct is to downplay the relationship so that Caitlyn doesn't get the wrong idea, only for Vi to immediately remember Caitlyn does not give a damn. The woman is in a relationship for god's sake. She does not care about Vi's love life, past or otherwise.

"If you want to get technical about it, yes, she was my prison wife. For what, two years?" Vi answered while looking to Sarah for confirmation.

"I thought it was three. To be fair, time bleeds together when you're imprisoned," Sarah shrugged.

"Something like that. Point is, we were prison wives until like a year before Caitlyn busted me out. She just up and disappeared one day," Vi told them.

"Fuck, I am so sorry about that. I didn't know it at the time, but an old friend of mine pulled some strings and got me out early. I had no idea I was getting let out until I was literally dragged by my hair out the door. I tried convincing my friend to get you out too but their pull was only for one favor. I would have written letters but," Sarah trailed off guiltily.

Vi knew. Stillwater doesn't allow any contact from the outside world. Letters are a no go out there. The shorter woman nudged her former lover slightly.

"Relax, Red. I'm happy you got out. You didn't know, you couldn't exactly give me a heads up. Besides, I'm here now too, so everything kind of worked out," Vi told her sincerely.

She honestly meant it too. Sarah's made some nasty mistakes, obviously since she wound up in Stillwater, but she really is a good person deep down. Vi really has always cared about Sarah. It's hard not to when she was the only source of positive human interactions Vi had in that hellhole.

"Well, it has been lovely meeting you, but we have plans tonight, so we really must get going. I do hope we didn't disturb any plans you might have as well," Caitlyn said urgently, already ushering Vi away.

Why did she sound like they're in such a rush? Oh shit, do they have a reservation? Or are they supposed to be there by a certain time? Vi definitely wouldn't have spent the whole time just talking and standing in place if she knew.

"Ah, don't worry about it, I don't have anything to do tonight," Sarah shrugged.

"Really? Then you should join us! You guys seem like you'd have a bit to catch up on. Besides, the more the merrier right?" Maddie asked while looking at Caitlyn.

"I'm not entirely sure where we're going is Sarah's scene," Caitlyn started quietly.

"Oh, that's a great idea! Do you mind, Cait?" Vi asked her.

Caitlyn looked over at her for a moment and Vi could have sworn her eyes softened. Maybe that's just her being delusional.

"If you really want her around, I don't see why not," Caitlyn said with a smile that looked a little too strained to be sincere.

Vi was focusing more on the fact that she could actually interact with Sarah without someone ready to beat them up at all times. She's relieved that the other two women were nice enough to include Sarah.

"Please tell me we're going for drinks," Sarah sighed as the four of them started to resume their walking.

"You must be a mind reader. Maddie and Caitlyn say the place is great, but I've never been so we're taking their word for it," Vi told her.

Sarah nodded as she moved her arm from Vi's shoulder only to link their arms together. It's nice. Familiar and warm. Sarah's always been a source of comfort for Vi. Looks like some things never change.

"Wait, how did you know it was me when you called out? I was faced away from you and my hair's dyed black. How'd you recognize me?" Vi questioned.

"Babe, I know those back tattoos like I know my right hand," Sarah smirked.

Vi is going to really fight down the blush this time and merely rolled her eyes. Of course she'd say something like that. To be fair, her tattoos are very distinctive, even for people who didn't use to kiss them. Vi kind of wonders what it would be like if Caitlyn kissed her tattoos-nope! Not going to go there.

"I gotta say, I love the black hair on you, but I miss the red. It was just so, Vi," Sarah smiled.

"Yeah, I'm planning on dying it back to my natural hair color soon. The black hair's been fun, but I miss the red too," Vi told her.

"If you need help, I can do it. I'm pretty good at dyeing hair," the redhead informed her.

"That is a very thoughtful offer, but I already agreed to it. I've even got the dye back home. You don't need to worry about it," Caitlyn told her with an almost vicious smile.

Perfect, now Caitlyn and Sarah are glaring at each other. Something tells Vi this is going to be a long night.

**********************

Through the whole walk to the bar Vi still doesn't know the name of, Caitlyn's been acting odd. Like, really odd. She keeps side eyeing Vi and Sarah's interlinked arms while giving Sarah very terse answers. It's really unlike Caitlyn to be so blatantly rude to someone she just met. She wasn't even this bad when she got Vi out of Stillwater.

Vi is starting to suspect that Cait and Maddie got into a bit of a fight earlier. Any time Maddie tries initiating any sort of physical touch, Caitlyn always shies away. Granted, Caitlyn always shies away from Maddie's touch, but Vi's pretty sure that's because of her enforcer reputation. She mainly thinks the two fought because of Cait's attitude towards Sarah.

Vi supposes it doesn't matter that much. Sarah's not bothered by it and Vi can't think of many scenarios where the two would frequently cross paths. It's also very possible that their personalities just don't click.

After what feels like years, the quartet made it to the bar. It was a nice place that had a soothing atmosphere about it. Perfect establishment to take a moment to wind down for a minute.

"I intruded on your plans, first rounds on me. What do you guys drink?" Sarah asked.

Caitlyn opened her mouth, probably to interject, but Maddie thankfully beat her to the punch.

"Oh, thank you! I'll have an old fashioned and Cait usually goes for a gin and tonic right?" Maddie asked while looking at the other woman.

Caitlyn simply nodded in response. Vi opened her mouth to tell her order only for Sarah to wave her off.

"Whiskey sour, I know what you're about. Take a seat and I'll find you guys," Sarah nodded.

The three of them moved to sit at a table with four chairs. Vi was sitting across from Caitlyn and Maddie went to the chair next to Caitlyn's. There was a moment of really awkward silence before Maddie spoke up.

"Man, what are the chances you run into her after over a year of not being able to see each other?" the shorter woman asked.

"I know, I'm still kind of reeling a bit myself. To tell you the truth, I was worried about her. I didn't know she was getting let out early. I had been terrified that something worse happened," Vi sighed.

"Thank god everything worked out. She seems like a pretty cool person. What do you think, Cait?" Maddie asked.

"She's fine," Caitlyn deadpanned.

Damn, so she does not Sarah at all. It disappoints Vi a little bit even though it probably shouldn't. Vi just wishes all the important people in her life could just get along. At that moment, Sarah returned with their drinks. A small round of thank yous went around the table.

"Now then, who wants to hear humiliating stories about Vi when she was in prison?" Sarah smirked.

"I know I do," Maddie teased.

"Literally don't even start with me or I swear I'm drinking your shot," Vi glared.

By god, Vi had so many embarrassing moments in prison. She did not need the girl she liked or the girl she liked's girlfriend to have this kind of dirt on her.

"Babe, trust me, you don't want my shot. So basically, Vi walked up to this guard right," Sarah started.

"That's it, fuck you," Vi glared and snatched the shot.

"Babe, you really don't," Sarah started, but it was too late to save Vi.

The moment the alcohol hit her taste buds, Vi had to fight the urge to retch. Sarah quickly put the chaser to Vi's lips and managed to get her to swallow it. Vi winced and covered her mouth. That was such a mistake, why does she do this to herself?

"Are you alright? I don't think I've ever seen alcohol hit you that hard," Caitlyn asked, voice laced with concern.

"You know, it's actually the funniest thing, Vi can not stand vodka. She's totally good with every other kind of alcohol, but for whatever reason her body just can't handle vodka," Sarah told her.

The redhead is now soothingly rubbing Vi's back as she tries to recover from that heinous shot. All Vi's focused on is not physically convulsing. It would appear that her pettiness gave her some immediate karma.

"I totally deserved that," Vi managed to groan out. Sarah laughed and squeezed her shoulder.

"Probably. I'll be back. For obvious reasons, I need another drink," Sarah chuckled.

"Now obviously I don't know much about your guys' relationship, but you and Sarah look pretty good together, Vi," Maddie teased once Sarah left.

"Please, Vi could do better than that," Caitlyn scoffed while rolling her eyes.

"Hey, I get you're probably weary of her because she was thrown in Stillwater, but Sarah's not so bad," Vi insisted. She felt a very strong urge to defend her friend after everything she's been through.

"I'm getting another drink," was all Caitlyn said before leaving the table.

Vi hadn't even noticed Caitlyn's drink was already gone at this point. She must have guzzled that thing.

"I'm so sorry, I'll go talk to her. I don't understand what is with her tonight," Maddie sighed as she got up to follow the other enforcer.

Vi nodded and took a small sip of her own drink. She really didn't get Caitlyn's problem with Sarah. Even if it was the whole she's an enforcer and Sarah was an inmate, by that logic Maddie would be acting the same way.

At once, the answer hit Vi like a ton of bricks. Of course, Caitlyn's blatant disdain for Sarah is so obvious now! Sarah must have gotten in trouble with the law and Caitlyn had to take care of it!

That made perfect sense. It genuinely would have surprised the Zaunite to know that her ex managed to stay out of trouble with the law. While Sarah certainly wouldn't do anything major to draw attention to herself after Stillwater, it would be just like her to commit some petty theft crime. Caitlyn must have been one of the enforcers that had to deal with Sarah. It explains literally everything about how those two dislike each other.

That even explains why Maddie is perfectly fine with Sarah. She's a junior officer that just started going on the field, so it's likely she hasn't dealt with too many run-ins with criminals.

"Hey, where'd the enforcers go?" Sarah asked as she returned to her seat.

"Caitlyn needed another drink and Maddie followed," Vi explained.

She figured she's just going to ask Caitlyn about whatever Sarah did later. After so long of not being able to see one of her closest friends, she doesn't want to taint the memory of getting into whatever stupid shit she's done since her release. Obviously whatever Sarah did was either insignificant or already taken care of since Caitlyn isn't trying to arrest her.

Vi twisted herself a little bit in her seat to get a better look at Sarah. It's the first time they've been aloneish since reuniting and she looks more vulnerable now. More open. Sarah took one of Vi's hands in hers and squeezed it gently.

"I was worried about leaving you in there," Sarah admitted quietly.

"I was worried about what happened to you when you left," Vi softly told her.

"I meant what I said to that enforcer chick. If anyone ever deserved to be free, it's you," the redhead smiled.

"You give me too much credit," Vi chuckled.

"You don't give yourself enough. I will say, even though I'm happy we're both out of Stillwater and everything, I think it's so fucked up that we can't even have sex anymore. The sex was good when we were in prison, imagine how awesome it would've been as free women," Sarah sighed mournfully.

"Oh, why can't we have sex now?" Vi asked in confusion.

Vi doubts Sarah's in a relationship given what she just said and how touchy she's been throughout the night. Maybe she got an injury or something?

"What, are you forgetting about that blue haired girlfriend of yours that looks like she wants to pull that gun on me every time I interact with you?" Sarah asked with a raised eyebrow.

"What? Cait and I? No, her and Maddie or dating. I'm single," Vi clarified.

Honestly, it feels like a slap in the face for her to have assumed Caitlyn liked her back. Vi prays she's not obvious in her feelings, she does not need or want to cause anymore problems.

"Well if that's the case, I feel bad for the Maddie chick. Blue Hair does not like her," Sarah scoffed. Vi opened her mouth to defend the relationship before Sarah leaned in close. "But more importantly, you're still single?"

Vi laughed and nodded. Sarah stared at her for a long moment, as if she was considering something.

"Sail away with me," Sarah decided to say. Vi's brain short-circuited.

"Huh?" Vi ever so eloquently asked.

"I've got a boat, a decent sized crew, and a world undiscovered. C'mon, think about it. You, me, the vast open sea, a lot of sex," Sarah teased.

"Oh my god do not tempt me right now, that sounds so nice," Vi sighed.

It really, really did. The idea of just dumping all her problems here and sailing off with the beautiful redhead sounded too good to be true. She could ignore the pain of losing her family, of losing Caitlyn, of losing everything she held dear.

"But I can't. I'm sure you've heard about the issues with Piltover, Zaun, and Noxus. We're getting ready for war. I have to protect my people. All of them," Vi frowned.

"Disappointed, but not surprised. You've always been a fighter, that's why you got your ass thrown into solitary half the time. I get it. Even so, now that I know you're free, you're stuck with staying in contact with me now. I'll write you so many letters you'll get sick of my handwriting. I'll be telling you where the ports I go to are, so you'll have no excuse to not write me back," Sarah smiled.

"You got yourself a deal, Red," Vi grinned.

"And hey, maybe when the dust settles, you can sail around for at least a little bit with me. The offer will always stand," Sarah told her.

"I will hold you to that," Vi nodded.

Just because she can't ditch her responsibilities at the current moment in time doesn't mean that a vacation in the future is out of the question. Granted, this is under the assumption that Vi gets to have a future, but there's no need for technicalities right now.

"Well, I am still here for a couple weeks, so that sex offer is still on the table," Sarah whispered, leaning in close.

Vi, yet again, is tempted. Sarah knows what she likes and is familiar to her. Vi might not burn at her touch or yearn for the smallest bit of contact the way she does with Caitlyn, but Sarah is still wonderful. Vi was saved from making a decision when a glass cup slammed on the table. Both former inmates jolted and looked up to see Caitlyn giving them a stare that kind of made Vi fear for her life.

"Sorry. I saw a spider," Caitlyn plainly said. Vi's eyes widened and she quickly stood up.

"Oh please tell me you got that little fucker," Vi hissed.

"I didn't take you for an arachnophobe, Violet. You can take down fully grown men twice your size but you're running at the first sight of a tiny spider. It's cute, really," Caitlyn teased with a glint in her eyes.

Vi felt warmth spread across her chest. That's the Caitlyn she knows and loves. Hopefully that drink she got is helping at least a little bit.

"Oh whatever, Cup-Caitlyn," Vi snorted, internally kicking herself for the slip up of the nickname.

Whatever enjoyment Caitlyn had from messing with Vi was immediately gone. The woman across from her grimaced and looked down at her drink. Shit, now even Caitlyn's getting uncomfortable with that nickname.

Vi resisted the urge to sigh and took a swig of her own drink. It really is going to be a long night.

**********************

Once the four of them decided that they drank enough for the night, Sarah split off from the group once they left the bar. She was close to the port where her boat's docked, so there wasn't a need to walk her home or anything. Once Vi and Sarah shared a quick hug and exchanged contact information, the redhead was off.

The walk back to Caitlyn's place was mostly silent. A tension Vi can't quite place was swimming all over the trio. It felt like forever until they reached the Kiramman household. Caitlyn gave Maddie a quick farewell and walked through the front doors.

So admittedly, Vi was under the impression they would be walking Maddie home. When she realized she was actually quite wrong, Vi gave Maddie a hasty goodbye and followed Caitlyn.

When Vi walked through the front doors, Caitlyn was sitting on the couch and pouring herself another drink. Apparently she simply did not get enough in the past two hours. Vi figures now is as good a time as any to broach the subject of whatever Sarah did.

"Alright, you can be honest with me, what the hell did she do?" Vi sighed as she sat next to Caitlyn.

"What the hell did who do?" the taller woman asked.

"Sarah. What did she do?" Vi asked.

"I'm not following," Caitlyn plainly stated.

"What crime did Sarah commit after she's been free? Her impulse control has always been shit, it doesn't surprise me that she's had a run in with the law. Just tell me what she did," Vi sighed. Caitlyn looked her up and down for a moment, then turned away from her.

"If Sarah's done anything illegal, I wouldn't know about it," Caitlyn told her.

Vi's jaw actually dropped. A million questions are going through her head right now. However, she only verbalized one.

"The what the fuck is your problem with Sarah?" Vi blurted out.

Caitlyn yet again slammed her cup on the table in front of her. Vi's surprised it didn't shatter upon impact.

"Do not taunt me, you know very well why I don't like her," Caitlyn spat.

Vi has genuinely never been as lost as she is right now. How in the fresh hell is she supposed to know why Caitlyn dislikes Sarah to this extent?

"No, I really don't. Look, I get you might be weary of her past at Stillwater. Hell, I can't blame you for not liking her personality but," Vi started, only to get cut off by the woman in front of her.

"Personality? You think I don't like Sarah because of her fucking personality?" Caitlyn practically seethed.

"I quite literally can not comprehend any other reason!" Vi exclaimed in pure distress.

Actually what is happening right now. Caitlyn pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment. The Piltover woman clenched her jaw and looked directly into Vi's eyes.

"If you're really going to make me say it out loud, then fine, I'll say it. I don't like her because it is very obvious to me just how much you like her," Caitlyn scowled.

"I genuinely want you to know that I have never been more confused in my life than I am right now. Why does it matter if I like Sarah?" Vi asked.

"Everything you do matters to me!" Caitlyn snapped.

Vi's confusion is only worsening as she stares at Caitlyn. Her blue eyes held so much pain that it made Vi sick to her stomach. She wants to help. She wants to ease the pain Caitlyn is in immediately. Vi tried to find some kind of words of comfort but the other woman simply kept on going.

"It matters to me that you can't stand vodka. It matters to me that you still get nightmares about Stillwater. It matters to me that when you smile, your entire face glows. It matters to me that you've been pulling away from me. It matters to me that I deserve your rejection and hatred. It matters to me that I want so badly to be in your life and you don't want the same," Caitlyn blurted out, tears starting to well in her eyes.

Vi fought the urge to cry. It was so close to a confession and yet not. The Zaunite merely sighed and moved to grab the glass Caitlyn slammed on the table.

"You need to go to bed, Cait. You're dating Maddie, you really shouldn't be saying things like this," Vi sighed.

"What? I'm not dating Maddie," Caitlyn frowned.

Vi dropped the glass in shock. Miraculously, it didn't spill or shatter. When this emotional crisis is over, Vi has to know what kind of indestructible glass cups Caitlyn buys.

"What? I one hundred percent thought the two of you were together," Vi honestly told her.

"No, no, I never even considered it. I suppose we can tack that on the list of reasons why I'm a terrible person. I was always clear with Maddie that our relationship was only physical and bound to be temporary. I think she got a bit too hopeful along the way," Caitlyn sighed.

Holy shit. Vi's actually the dumbest woman alive. To the shock of absolutely no one, unfortunately. Okay quick Vi, stop staring at her like a dumbass and actually say something to comfort her. Vi moved closer to Caitlyn and firmly held onto her hand.

"I never hated you. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I've been pulling away because I thought you were dating Maddie. I didn't want to cause any problems there so I thought giving you space was the best thing to do. I mean, you even seemed to hate it when I called you Cupcake. I slipped up a couple times tonight and you just looked so upset. I thought I was just doing what you wanted," Vi shrugged.

"I only looked disappointed tonight because you kept correcting yourself. I never thought I'd want to be called something as ridiculous as a cupcake until you stopped calling me one," Caitlyn softly admitted

"Hey, you take that back. Cupcake's aren't ridiculous, they're absolutely delightful," Vi softly joked.

A small smile swept over Caitlyn's face that made Vi's heart pound in her chest. There has never been a more beautiful smile than the one right in front of her.

"Why did you think I was dating Maddie?" Caitlyn suddenly asked.

"It may seem stupid now, but it's because you told me about the fact that you guys slept together. I took it as your way of telling me that kiss didn't matter and was a one time thing. So I just kind of changed the subject to avoid hearing it out loud," Vi sheepishly told her.

"I only told you about Maddie because I was trying to be honest and have you hear it from me. Looking back, it probably would have made more sense to ask you out before mentioning it. I thought you brushing it off and changing the subject was your way of saying you weren't interested. I didn't blame you, especially after everything," Caitlyn sighed.

"You know I've already forgiven you and I already know you meant it. I just can't believe we're both this stupid. See, this is expected behavior from me, but I thought you were smarter than this Cupcake," Vi teased.

Caitlyn let out a laugh this time which sent Vi into a fight of giggles too. Once their laughter died down, Caitlyn reached out and gently cupped her hands under Vi's face. The Zaunite leaned into the warm touch, feeling a sense of peace wash over her.

"Will you just be my girlfriend? It doesn't matter how long I have to wait or what I need to do, I want you to know that I adore you and no matter what the future holds, I want you by my side. I'm going to work every day to be deserving of you so I just," Caitlyn rambled before Vi cut her off with a kiss.

"Yeah, I'll be your girlfriend, Cupcake," Vi giggled once they pulled apart.

Caitlyn looked like someone told her she won the lottery with how ecstatic she looked. It filled Vi's heart with joy knowing she's responsible for that look. It was at that moment that Vi came to another realization.

"At least the mystery of tonight is finally solved. You were so jealous of Sarah it made you seem insane," Vi grinned. Caitlyn blushed and rolled her eyes.

"So what if I was?" the Piltover woman grumbled.

Vi honestly wasn't expecting her to admit it, especially not so quickly. She simply chuckled and moved in to kiss Caitlyn's cheek.

"You don't have to be. I've only got eyes for you, Cupcake," Vi smiled.

"You should know you don't have to worry about Maddie. As totally fucked up as it is to say, I only started sleeping with her because her eyes reminded of yours," Caitlyn sighed.

"I think what's even more fucked up is how happy that makes me," Vi honestly stated.

Before she could even blink, Caitlyn yanked Vi in for another kiss. This one was different from the first. It was desperate, hungry, and it made Vi feel like she just got lit on fire.

The Zaunite kissed back with just as much vigor. Caitlyn broke the kiss only to move her lips down Vi's neck. Those soft lips pressed hot, open mouthed kisses along her neck. Vi audibly gasped when Caitlyn found the crook of her neck.

Caitlyn got the message that it was her sweet spot and started sucking at the vulnerable spot. Vi moaned at the unexpected action at an embarrassingly high volume. In an attempt to recover some of her dignity, Vi bit her lip to prevent any noises from coming out. Caitlyn pulled back a bit and frowned at the sight.

"As hot as you are biting your lip, I want to hear you. I've wanted this for so long words can't even describe it," Caitlyn said.

With that, she returned to making sure no spot on Vi's neck is left untouched by her lips. Vi could only cling onto Caitlyn's shirt as she was ravaged by the taller woman. Reluctantly, Vi allowed the low moans and gasps to escape her lips.

"How do you feel about taking some clothes off, hmm?" Caitlyn asked, searching Vi's eyes for any sense of hesitation. There was absolutely none.

"Let me touch you, Cupcake, please. I need to," Vi begged.

Caitlyn didn't need much convincing. While Caitlyn took both her pants and shirt off, Vi could only manage yanking off her shirt before getting pulled into the other woman. Now they're both laying side by side on the thankfully large couch, bodies entangled with one another.

Holy fuck, this is really happening.

"Tell me what you want from me Caitlyn, shit. I'll do anything you need me to," Vi breathlessly told her.

"Aren't you a good girl, hmm? So eager to please," Caitlyn smirked.

Vi blushed brightly at the call out while Caitlyn took off her bra. She guided Vi's head down to her breasts. Safe to say, the shorter woman got the message really quick. Vi took her beautiful girlfriend's left nipple in her mouth and traced the areola with her tongue. Caitlyn gasped and put a hand in Vi's hair, urging her closer.

As her mouth was working on Caitlyn's breast, Vi's hands began trailing up and down the taller woman's soft sides. She gently massaged and squeezed them, allowing Caitlyn to melt under her touch. Her mouth quickly went to the right nipple and began to give it the same treatment as the left. Caitlyn's ragged breathing is merely edging her on. Vi can already feel herself getting wet from everything she's doing to her lover.

"Inside, I need you to put your fingers inside me," Caitlyn insisted while tossing her underwear off.

She certainly didn't need to tell Vi twice. That doesn't mean Vi won't mess with her a little bit. The Zaunite began slowly trailing the tips of her fingers down Caitlyn's stomach while still giving her chest plenty of attention. Eventually, her fingers made it to Caitlyn's cunt and holy fuck was it wet.

Both women audibly gasped when Vi made contact with Cait's slit. Vi decided she was going to be a little playful and began slowly stroking two fingers up and down the Piltover woman's sex without actually entering inside her. Caitlyn's grip on her head tightened and caused a delightful sting.

Caitlyn began bucking her hips in hopes of getting Vi's fingers inside, but at just the right time the Zaunite would manage to pull back. When Vi looked up, she could see the blissed out face on her lover and that sent a wave of heat straight to her core.

She's honestly having the time of her life teasing Caitlyn. The whimpers of being so close yet not quite getting what she wanted was driving Vi absolutely mad. Then, Caitlyn cupped Vi's face and pulled her away from the breast she was paying special attention to. When Vi looked at Caitlyn, she was an expression the Zaunite had never seen before. It was a calculating look that meant business.

"I'm warning you right now, you can tease me as long as you like, but I promise you I will return the favor tenfold when I get my hands on you. Now are you going to be a good girl and fuck me, or are you going to continue acting like you have control?" Caitlyn firmly asked her.

If Vi wasn't sure if she had a praise kink before, she knows she does now. The prospect of being a good girl was the push Vi needed to slowly slip one finger inside of Caitlyn's beautiful cunt. Plus, she's hot when she's bossy. Caitlyn moaned lowly and grabbed onto Vi's back.

"Another one," the Piltover woman managed to command.

Very eager to see her girlfriend come, Vi did as instructed. The second finger slipped inside with absolutely zero resistance. There Vi sat, absolutely mesmerized at the sight of Caitlyn taking in two of Vi's fingers. She's starting to think she might actually come from this sight alone.

"You're so beautiful clenching on my fingers like this Cait, holy fuck," Vi whispered.

The other woman almost immediately tightened around Vi. Looks like she's not the only one that enjoys a bit of complimenting during sex.

Vi bit her lip as she slowly began to pick up the pace of pushing her fingers inside of Caitlyn's wet pussy. She can feel her girlfriend's walls tighten around her, signaling she's coming to her high soon. Without letting up the pace, Vi leaned down and swallowed Caitlyn's moans with a kiss. Caitlyn wrapped her arms around Vi's neck and tugged her in as close as possible.

"Fuck, keep going, I'm so close," Caitlyn moaned.

Given how fucking tight she is, Vi certainly believes that statement. Vi's fingers began pumping impossibly faster as Caitlyn desperately rutted her hips upward. Caitlyn clutched onto Vi's shoulders as she finally hit her sweet release. With a loud moan, Caitlyn rode out her high on Vi's fingers.

This is probably the hottest thing the Zaunite has seen in her entire life. The woman she's in love with is desperately trying to regain her breath after Vi just gave her an orgasm. This is a memory she will be cherishing for years to come.

Vi slowly took her fingers out of Caitlyn and brought them to her lips. While making direct eye contact with her, Vi tastes Caitlyn's arousal still coating her fingers.

"Tastes sweet. You know, like a cupcake," Vi grinned.

"You are so annoying," the taller woman huffed with no real bite in her voice.

Caitlyn let out a small giggle before yanking Vi down into another searing kiss. It ended way too shortly when Caitlyn pulled away. Then, the Piltover woman looked at Vi and frowned.

"You're wearing way too many clothes. We're going to need to change that," Caitlyn told her.

At once, Caitlyn got to work on undoing her chest bindings. Vi was so focused on kicking off her pants that she didn't notice the white piece of paper slip from her pocket. Apparently, Caitlyn did.

"What's this note for? And why does it say 'when you're ready to sail away with me'?" Caitlyn frowned.

Vi took a moment to process the question because of how elated she was over the fact that she made Caitlyn come. The Zaunite glanced down at the paper before shrugging.

"Oh, Sarah wrote me that. She wanted me to leave with her when she went back to sea. For many obvious reasons I declined, but she still wrote down her next port so that I could write," Vi mumbled.

She didn't really care about the note. What she cared about was having Caitlyn on top of her. As it would turn out, Caitlyn cared quite a bit about said note. The Piltover woman crumpled the note and tossed it dismissively behind her.

"I'm going to make you come so hard you won't even remember your own name, much less her's. You're not going to want to sail away from me when I'm done with you," Caitlyn whispered darkly in Vi's ear.

That's way more attractive than it should have been. Now that Vi's pants and underwear are off, Caitlyn is starting to nip at the shorter woman's chest. Vi whimpered as her girlfriend's soft lips made contact with the valley between her breasts. She's so embarrassingly wet right now, she needs to come soon.

"Cupcake, please, I need you," Vi begged.

"Oh? Need me for what?" Caitlyn asked innocently as she continued to press kisses down to Vi's stomach.

The taunt made Vi want to scream in frustration. It's pretty damn obvious what Vi needs right about now.

"Touch me," Vi insisted.

"My poor darling, I am touching you. If you want something specific from me, you have to be a good girl and ask," Caitlyn smirked as her hands began massaging Vi's thighs.

Oh she's evil. It's like Caitlyn thinks Vi is just some whore that's going to be begging her to come!

Well, she would be correct, but Vi is not happy about it!

"Just eat me out already before I go insane!" the Zaunite whined.

Caitlyn's eyes flashed and before Vi could blink, her girlfriend was pressing open mouthed kisses on her cunt. Vi’s breath hitched in her throat as she slammed her hand over her mouth to stop her moans.

"If I don't get to hear you, you don't get to come. Now let me hear those pretty moans Vi, I won't tell you again," Caitlyn warned.

The fact that she's so vocal is absolutely humiliating to Vi, but the idea of not being able to come is so much worse. Therefore, Vi let her hand flop at her side so now the sounds she makes is all for Caitlyn's ears.

Caitlyn smiled and dragged her tongue up Vi's slit. The Zaunite physically did a full body shiver at the sensation. The pleasure crawled all the way up her spine in a way that was too intoxicating for words.

"Who's making you feel this good, hmm? Go on, say it," Caitlyn quietly hissed.

Vi really doesn't want to speak, her voice is just going to sound all shaky and awkward. But something tells her that Caitlyn is going to get it out of Vi, one way or another. Even if Vi's embarrassed, it's still really hot.

"Fuck, Cupcake, it's you. You make feel so fucking go- oh fuck," Vi gasped as Caitlyn's tongue went inside of her.

Feeling the Piltover woman's tongue inside of her is almost making her scream. She was already so wet and this is making it so worse. It's only a matter of time before Vi completely unravels.

Vi tried moving her hips to speed things along, but Caitlyn pinned them to the couch with her hands. All the Zaunite could do is lay there and take the pleasurable attack on her cunt.

"Tell me you're mine, darling. Tell me you're mine because I have always been yours," Caitlyn moaned into Vi's pussy.

"Fuck, Cupcake, I'm yours. Only yours, oh my god," Vi cried out.

Upon hearing those words, Caitlyn's tongue began vigorously circling Vi's clit. The taller woman began repeatedly pressing against her most sensitive spot and before she could even comprehend it, Vi was coming all over Caitlyn's face.

"Fuck," they both moaned at the same time.

They made eye contact for a moment before giggling like a couple of idiots. Caitlyn slowly moved up Vi's body and gave her kiss while her arousal was still coated over the Piltover woman's lips. Literally everything Caitlyn does is so hot.

Once they broke apart Caitlyn laid next to Vi and began gently messing with her hair. Vi yawned and leaned her head on Vi's shoulder.

"You feeling good? Do you need anything, my darling?" Caitlyn softly asked her.

Vi's tummy did a small backflip at the possessive 'my' in front of darling. The things this woman does to her is actually insane.

"I feel fucking amazing actually. All I need is you, Cupcake," Vi smiled.

"I have to say, I feel pretty fucking amazing myself," Caitlyn chuckled.

"Well then I did my job," Vi giggled.

"I love you, you know. I'm not expecting you to say it back, but I really think you need to," Caitlyn began, only to get cut off with Vi's lips on hers.

"I love you too. Good luck getting rid of me now, sucker," Vi smirked. Caitlyn simply laughed and pulled her in even closer.

"Sounds perfect to me, Vi. That sounds absolutely perfect."

**********************

That very morning, Caitlyn and Vi walked into town hand in hand. Vi was originally concerned that it would hurt her reputation to be with her in such an obviously romantic setting, but Caitlyn was having none of it. As they were strolling down the street, they met up with a couple enforcers that Vi remembers meeting but unfortunately forgot the name of. Oh shit, Maddie’s there too. Hopefully it’s not awkward or anything.

"Oh, congrats on getting back together you two!" the blonde woman smiled at seeing their joined hands.

“Aw, I’m for you guys! You make a sweet couple,” Maddie agreed.

Vi felt herself physically relax. Maddie’s not heartbreakingly upset, which is truly all Vi wanted. Even though Caitlyn may have never reciprocated Maddie’s feelings, she is clearly also relieved that she’s alright with this outcome.

"About time, Vi. That one was a wreck without you," the black haired man teased while pointing to Caitlyn. Vi laughed a bit while Caitlyn blushed.

"Thanks, but we never like, broke up or anything. This is the first time we've started dating," Vi told them.

"Wait seriously?" the blonde asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, it's true. Our relationship is quite new," Caitlyn told them.

"Wow. You guys were not good at hiding it," the blonde deadpanned.

Caitlyn and Vi looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. They were totally right, after all. The two women were awful at hiding their feelings for each other.

Vi smiled easily as the other three enforcers began rambling on about the plans they had coming up this week. Caitlyn gently squeezed Vi's hand which the Zaunite quickly returned. As long as they had each other, they would be alright.

"Hey Babe, how did- ah boo! You guys are totally dating now, aren't you?" the voice behind them identifiable as Sarah groans. Vi bit back a laugh as Caitlyn frowned at Sarah's presence.

"Yes, we are now very happily dating, Sarah," Vi grinned.

"I suppose I'm happy for you. But hey, if you're ever dating unhappily, you know I'm always available," Sarah smirked.

"Vi, grab my gun," Caitlyn deadpanned.

"Huh? Why?" Vi asked.

"Because I might actually shoot her," Caitlyn scowled.

"Yeah, alright, no gun for you," Vi mumbled as she hastily grabbed it from Caitlyn's holster.

And here Vi thought those two might get along now that the air has been cleared. Clearly, that will not be the case. Vi simply kissed Caitlyn's cheek and watched as a small smile graced the other woman's face.

At least now Vi has a little more incentive to survive Ambessa's wrath. A future with Caitlyn is, without a doubt, something worth fighting for.

[insidekatmind]

Between rival hearts~ Noni Madueke and Trent Arnold (love triangle)

The sound of footsteps echoed through the England locker room as the players prepared for the upcoming match. However, that night it wasn’t the preparations for the match that dominated their thoughts, but something much more personal. Two of the team’s brightest stars, Noni Madueke and Trent Alexander-Arnold, were completely taken with you. What had started as a friendly relationship between teammates was quickly evolving into something much more complicated.

For two days, you had kissed both of them, but you hadn't made a definitive choice. Your heart didn't know what it wanted anymore, and what had begun as an innocent game was now turning into a war between two men who both had the same goal: to win your heart.

That evening, in the locker room, the tension was palpable. While the other players were preparing, trying to ignore the growing conflict, Noni and Trent found themselves face to face, their jaws clenched, their eyes full of anger and frustration.

"This isn’t right, Trent. You know it," Noni said, his voice thick with anger. "You think you have the right to...?" His sentence trailed off as he stared Trent in the eye, a mix of defiance and resentment.

"I don’t need your permission, Noni," Trent replied coldly, but with a spark of disdain in his eyes. "If you’re scared to compete, maybe you should back off. It’s clear she prefers me."

Noni hissed and took a step toward him, but was stopped by another shout: "Enough!" It was Jude Bellingham, who, although not directly involved in the love triangle, couldn’t stand the drama unfolding before him. "It’s not a competition. You both should stop acting like children. She’s not a trophy."

Trent didn’t flinch, shooting a quick glance at Jude. "Don’t worry about it, Jude. This doesn’t concern you." Then he turned back to Noni. "She’s made her choice. Maybe she’s just too shy to admit it, but I know she prefers me."

Noni let out a sharp laugh, but it wasn’t funny at all. "You’re trying to convince yourself, Trent. I don’t believe you for a second." He glanced at the other players, who were watching the scene in silence, almost entertained. "And where is she? How can she tell us who she prefers if she’s not even here?"

Suddenly, silence fell, as everyone in the room considered that question. Where were you? No one really knew what you were thinking, but Noni and Trent both seemed certain that you were the center of their worlds.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Noni continued, looking at his teammates. "This isn’t just about kisses or attention. It’s about who can make her feel special, who can give her something the other can’t."

Trent took a step forward, as if he wanted to confront Noni directly. "And who decides that, you? Or maybe her? Because I know I’m the one who makes her feel alive. And you, Noni, just seem like the guy who wants to play the nice guy, while I’m the one who makes her feel desired."

The other players started looking nervously at each other. The tension was so thick, and Jude, trying to maintain calm, stepped forward, but his voice was barely above a whisper. "Guys, stop. This isn’t going to get you anywhere. Why don’t you try talking to her directly?"

But in the heart of the argument, there was still the question no one dared to ask: *Who will you choose?*

It was a delicate situation, a clash of hearts and desires. The passion between Noni and Trent was now evident to everyone, and no one could ignore the longing they both felt for you. But it wasn’t just a battle of pride between them; there was also your heart to protect, slowly breaking under the pressure of having to make a decision.

And all you knew was that, as dangerous as the game was, you still hadn’t decided which side to stand on.

[x-mental-idiots]

So…I may have been working on something for the last month and I’m gauging interest now but…

Cherik Nation, how do we feel about a multi chapter, multi part fanfic set right before X-Men: The Animated Series featuring:

• Teenage X-Men finding out their father has been gay married to a terrorist for almost 50 years and somehow it has just Never Come Up

• Charles and Erik being married since 1953

• Time Travel

• Trans Magneto

• In-Depth Character Studies about Charles and Erik at different stages in their relationship

• Domestic Intimacy

• Erik and Charles both being loving, supportive partners to each other- particularly in regards to Charles’ paralysis and Erik’s PTSD

• Two Gay Idiots In Love

• Magneto’s complicated relationship with parenthood

• Realistic portrayals of Anxiety and PTSD

• Mr Sinister living up to his name

• Dramatic Tension

• German

• Everyone is Queer

• And Much Much More!

If any of this interests you, let me know! I have like the first 6 chapters written but not posted. I’m pretty new to the X-Men fandom but I am going insane over here about these two. I was trying to wait to post until I had at least the first part complete (I’m almost there) but I don’t know if I can keep being patient.

[centaurianthropology]

My thoughts on C3E77

So apparently this one was controversial?

I'm going to say right now, I really loved everyone's decisions. They all fit the characters, but more they fit the players. I know that there are claims that Tal ignored all the warnings, but I actually think Matt may have misjudged the situation going in.

Ashley made it clear on 4SD that she did not want the shard. I think she's not really feeling the Dark Fearne storyline (and that's fair), and Matt seems to have missed that she genuinely didn't want to go down that route. Maybe he thought she was playing coy? Maybe they've been playing together so long he thought he knew a story she'd enjoy and missed her signals that she wasn't into it. I've done that before with some of my long-term players.

However that went down, Tal and she had a conversation after 4SD about what they wanted to do, and it was clear going into the episode that they at least had it planned out who was taking that shard, and it was going to be Ashton from the off. The fact that Matt was not expecting that somewhat surprises me. As Taliesin said: he put a big red backstory-shaped button in front of Ashton, and Ashton is terrified of losing people. If Fearne didn't want the shard, Ashton was going to dive on that grenade head-first. And part of Ashton wanted it. They are told they can't do something, and they will go about proving that old tree and everyone else wrong in the most self-destructive way possible. They are intensely punk in that way.

Matt may have designed the shard for Fearne, but this is not the first time that an item meant for one player ends up with another. Deathwalker's Ward was made for Percy, but through the events in the Sunken Tomb, it ended up with Vax and led to a hell of a story. And now something meant for Fearne goes to Ashton, and I have a feeling we're now in for another hell of a story. Because Ashton is now, essentially, a lava genasi, with three impossible things crammed into their broken body. Will they survive the campaign? I have no idea, but it has become clear that they don't expect to.

And honestly? This may well be what the Hells need, not in terms of power, but in terms of really realizing how self-destructive they all are. Marisha may say that no one loves a martyr, but Laudna was very much ready to play that role earlier this episode. Imogen is very self-destructive. So is Orym. So is FCG. The only two who have shown any degree of self-preservation are Fearne and Chet. The rest are bombs waiting for the most poetic moment to go off.

And today one of them did for a moment. They finally saw the end result that their self-destructive tendencies get them: Ashton blown into a thousand pieces, scattered across the top of the ziggurat. Deanna's ring saved him. Fearne's Aura of Life and FCG's Aura of Vitality saved him. Ashton could only roll and take damage.

Matt may have not designed it this way, but this was absolutely Ashton's 'where do you get your strength from' moment of the campaign, but in a very different way than Grog or Yasha experienced them. Because Ashton might just need this realization slapped into them by all their friends: this was dumb and they would have died because they didn't trust their friends. Because their strength and their salvation truly came from the people that love them.

Ashton has been, up until this point, a bit gung-ho to die for his friends. Honestly, they all are, and it's about time he and all the others learned how to live for their friends.

Anyway, hell of an episode, and a brutal but thrilling last hour. I was grinning right along with Sam. The mad fucker pulled it off by the skin of his teeth and by the grace of two friends dumping every bit of healing they had into him.

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Mist and Alpha late night talk be upon ye. Their relationship is very important to me.

It's quiet on the roof. Getting there isn't easy, but once settled, Mist relishes in the sense of peace that washes over her. Tonight, though, she only gets two lungfulls of smoke before a voice cuts through the relative silence of the night.

"Got one for me ?"

How Alpha always manages to find her hidding spots is beyond Mist's knowledge.

"Die," she grumbles without looking at him, even as she extends the pack of cigarettes toward the fire ghoul.

The fact alone that he lights it without flourish tells Mist Alpha is preoccupied. That and the tension sitting heavy in his broad shoulders.

"You good ?" he rasps after a long inhale, voice always a bit veiled, scratching in his throat.

Mist shrugs vaguely, eyes finding a star and latching onto it. There's a long silence, an unusual display of patience from Alpha, before she sighs in defeat.

"Worried about Omega."

A gush of winds raises goosebumps on her skin. She should have brought a jacket. It becomes a bit more bearable when Alpha reajusts his stance and the heat he naturally radiates washes over her.

"Yeah, me too."

Smoke billows in front of them as it escapes their mouths, curling in hypnotizing shapes.

"...don't get me wrong, I love Terzo, I think he's a great guy, but..."

"He's human," Alpha finishes for her, "mortal. And Omega is not. I mean not really. No one's eternal, but us ghouls come close."

With a heavy sigh, Mist nods, lower lip bitten raw and stinging.

"Omega always had a big, bleeding heart. If- when he loses Terzo to human fragility, he's going to feel it with his entire being."

Alpha grunts in agreement. There is no way Omega won't fall appart at the loss of his lover, no matter the circumstances.

"Can't get too close to humans. Will just bring pain."

Mist huffs.

"Hypocrite."

"Fuck you, Secondo and I are just a thing of convenience, nothing more."

What a poor liar Alpha can be, when it comes to these matters, a tremor in his voice and longing in his eyes. Mist raises an eyebrow, tilting her head toward him.

"I didn't even mention him."

Shoulders sagging in defeat, Alpha runs a tired hand on his face, through his hair. Mist wonders if he still struggles to sleep, or if he stays up late just to catch a break, have a quiet moment to himself. If so, her presence doesn't seem to bother him; after all, he sought her out in the first place.

"You still having nightmares ?"

Mist tenses.

"Fuck d'you think i'd be doing here if I wasn't ?"

Alpha doesn't answer. Mist bites her lip, inhales, exhales, shaking off the guilt churning in her guts. It's instinctive, biting when she feels cornered, when a touchy subject is on the table. And if it was anyone else, she probably would storm off. But this is Alpha. The fire ghoul knows, and understands.

"Sorry. I meant, yes, I still have them."

Somewhere in the night, an animal screeches. A cloud momentarily hides the moon. Nightmares are terrible things, forcing Mist to face her deepest fears without being able to do anything about it. She doesn't remember when it started, but now she can hardly spend a night without having her own mind playing those cruel tricks on her.

Some nights, when Mist wakes up with the taste of bile in her mouth and torn sheets sticking to her clamy skin, she forgets where she is. All that she feels is how small and lonely she is.

"You don't have to sleep alone, y'know."

It's as if Alpha read her mind. A tempting offer. Mist considers, stomping on the butt of her cigarette.

"You'd hold me, sparkling ?"

The light tone she tried to inject in her voice falls flat, as does the nickname Alpha hates so much. As it is, he only hums and finally turns fully toward her.

"You know I will. If you let me."

The cloud drifts away, silver moonlight pouring once again on Alpha's face, highlighting the deep scars on his cheek, the days old stubles, the crease between his eyebrows.

"Alright then."

They stare at each other in silence for a while. There is something off with Alpha's expression, like he's trying very hard to school it into his usual bitch resting face. Mist is not sure how to word the question she's burning to ask.

"Do you- did something happen ? You look...upset."

The way Alpha opens his mouth in an instant, ready to retort, lips starting to pull back in a snear, reminds Mist of herself just a few minutes ago. But then he looks away, shoulders and chest rising with the inhale he takes.

"Got into a fight with Pebble."

"Again ?"

Mist isn't sure what Alpha and Pebble's relationship is. Most Siblings and a few other ghouls are convinced they hate each other's guts - and given the amount of screaming matchs they get into, it's a fair assumptions. But Mist knows damn well it goes further than that.

She knows they both respect each other, despite everything. She knows Pebble tends to seek Alpha's gruff approval, even if the earth ghoul would vehemently deny it and possibly comit murder if anyone mentionned it. Mist has keen eyes, and she can see that Alpha orbits toward Pebble much more than you'd expect. That he looks out of the earth ghoul and genuinely seems to care about him, in his own way. Their fights tend to get to both of them, no matter how much they try to shrug them off.

"...yeah. It's fine, we'll get over it, I just...wasn't even trying to piss him off, you know ?"

Yes, Mist does know. Whatever bound those two share, it's torny and full of knots, a difficult thing that's still strong enough never to let them severe it. She hopes the squeeze she gives to his shoulder is enugh to convey her understanding, all the reassurances she doesn't really know how to put into words.

It seems to be, if the way Alpha leans into it with the faintest hint of a purr is anything to go by.

Her musing is interrupted by a jaw-dislocating yawn.

"C'me on. It's so late it's almost early," Alpha mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

They don't speak of the fire ghoul's offer again, but when Alpha steps into his bedroom, Mist is right behind him.

Maybe, tonight, warm limbs will ward off the horrors of the night.

[legallydistinctloolooland]

hearing any defense of the huskerdust age gap (as if it needs one) that doesn't start and end with “Angel is, by every metric under the sun, an adult who can make his own decisions” is fucking insane to me. You do not need to pull out a timeline. No math required. He is in his thirties. Fuck, I am younger than him by a considerable amount, and if I could be bothered to get out of my pyjamas and go cruise at the local septuagenarian biker bar, all things made equal, I would be fucking fine. Me and this hypothetical grandpa trick would be equally consenting adults.

It is just a bit frustrating to see this line of argument in EITHER direction, from people who think that a ~thirty years old cannot possibly want GILF pussy or that think you need to corkboard mathletes a way around the age gap by saying “well actually they're around the same age if you [blah blah blah]”. There are things that are actually fucked up about them that we COULD be talking about instead of putting Seattle on blast with this “how could a seventy year old man ethically start a relationship with another fully grown adult, both of whom are trying to make meaningful connections in their lives, beyond their work?”

Please keep in mind, none of this is that serious. This is, at the end of the day, a very silly discourse, and this is, at the end of the day, a very silly reaction. I wish the septuagenarian biker bar thing was serious, but alas. I live in a boring area.

[katierosefun]

modern family is all fun and games until you get to the scenes where you burst into tears because the once-vaguely homophobic dad now refers to his son's husband as family, and also the academically gifted daughter realizes that her dorky, clumsy dad was always really proud of her and just never surprised because he just assumed she could do anything, and also the eldest daughter who eloped comes crawling back to her parents' room and whispers that she still wants her parents to be present for her wedding, and also the anxious queer lawyer character admits that he was terrified that his husband would just leave him alone with their baby daughter, and also that the once-vaguely grouchy dad looks at his stepson and tells him that what makes a family is who sticks around, not who you're blood-related to and anyways what was i saying

[hiemaldesirae]

The Hazbin Graduate’s Guide to Homicide (3)

HAZBIN'S MIDSEMESTER STUDENT REPORT Student: Vox Vanhal Supervising Staff: Professor Enoch Leviathan Sponsor: Not Applicable To the Board: Vox Vanhal may be one of the most brilliant students this school has seen in decades. In all my years of teaching at Hazbin, I have never met a student more insanely ready to learn and apply their skills- due in part, of course, to said student's own possible insanity. I mean this in a jovial way, of course, but I will admit that when young Vanhal's true identity was revealed to me that my first thought was along the lines of 'is this student insane?' Whether or not my student's reason should be called into question is something myself and my fellow professor Asmodeus have discussed in length, but there is one thing that we can definitively agree on: If there is any one student in this school who I would choose to place my bets on, it would be Vox Vanhal. There is nothing more to say at this time of report evaluation. Sincerely, Professor Leviathan.

May God's blessings be with you now and at the hour of our deaths, Amen.

[ 1 ] / [ 2 ] (<- read these first for context and more murder academy radiostatic content!)

Though Alastor may have thought that Vox was much more knowledgable in how Hazbin's Institution for Homicide worked, the truth was, Vox was still fully flying on the seat of his own coattails.

He had no damn clue what he was doing still, and although it'd been two weeks since he'd arrived, part of him still felt like how he did when he'd first arrived: hesitant, scared, not knowing where to go or what to do besides the want to make his boss suffer as he killed him.

That level of animosity might sound strange to anyone not a Hazbin student or alumnus, but it was perfectly normal for any student enrolled in the academy to have such feelings. After all, there was quite a rigorous process involved in the application, and for Vox, this application process (and what led to it) was perhaps more intense than most.

There had once been a time where Vox had dreamed of becoming a Hollywood starlet, one who lit up the silver screen and was blessed by hundreds of thousands of cheering, dedicated fans who would fawn over his every move and action. He'd wanted to follow in his mother's footsteps, at one point. But after taking on his first roles in Carmine Studios, the glamour of Hollywood had shattered like fine glass.

"Miss Vesper! Would you please look over here for a second?"

"Miss Vesper, when is your next movie coming out?!"

"Miss Vesper, is it true that you and your co-star on Anna Karenina, Valentino Vega had an affair-?"

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! That- fucking bastard!" Vox rushed into the privacy of his and Val's shared apartment, slamming the door behind him as he collapsed into the couch, head cradled in his hands. He couldn't even begin to start detailing the number of ways he'd wanted to fucking butcher and rip apart his boss.

Andrealphus Goetia was no stranger to the spotlight, naturally. One of Hollywood's top directors, the man had been an influential cornerstone in the history of movie-making, a real legend to light the days. But behind that picturesque platinum reputation laid a monstrous piece of shit.

It had been a complete accident that Andrealphus had found out about Vox's identity.

Vox himself hadn't even really planned out what to do about himself at that point, only that he'd known that the dresses he wore on screen were far more suited to his best friend than they were for him. Knew that the copious amounts of makeup flattened on him everyday made him feel more like a clown than a princess, that it was the most uncomfortable feeling to have to sit and play the pretty face for the audience's sake.

But he persisted, telling himself, one more year, one more year til my savings account has enough to supply Val and I with a comfortable life and we can leave.

But of course- of course Andrealphus had to ruin it for him.

The man had found out and immediately proceeded to blackmailing Vox with the information, holding things such as promotions, media gossip and rumors over his head. And now... now... Vox stared down at the script he held clutched in his hand, his knuckles turning white as he grasped it with an iron grip.

"Dieser verdammte bastard," Vox muttered under his breath.

Though he'd never loved the spotlight that came with his first taste of fame, he had loved acting. Had loved being adored for his skill, applauded for the emotions that he could evoke in crowds of people and the way he could twist people's hearts. He had wanted to be one of the best, a household name.

And now, he stared down at the script for a movie that Andrealphus knew would tank his reputation. It was absolute bullshit. The plot was held together by thin strings and a bit of glue, despite being an adaptation of one of the past decade's best selling books. Not only that, but the moment he left the safety of the apartment once more, he would also have to contend with the rumors that were steadily piling against him and dragging his loved ones and friends into it too.

All this, because Vox had refused to sleep with his shitty boss.

He could still hear the fucker's voice- come on, don't you wanna say that you got a piece of me? I'll even leave out the part about you being a transvestite, darling, just the fact that I got a piece of you is enough.

God. If only.... if only he could see that bastard's face when he crushed his fucking skull in between his hands. He wanted to see Andrealphus' stupid face contort in revulsion and terror when Vox finally did the deed, wanted to bathe in the the fotze's inbred blood. He'd do anything for the chance to just kill that piece of shit-

"Amorcito?"

Val's voice makes Vox jump on the spot, quickly shifting to hide the script from view. His friend comes around the corner, eyebrows furrowed with concern, and it's this that makes Vox break his composure, a single tear falling down his face as Val frowns, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "Voxxy, amor... tell me what's wrong."

And because he can never keep his mouth shut when it comes to his best friend, Vox tells him everything. Val nods along, pauses at the right moments, all of that stuff that friends do when they're trying to let you know that they'd rip apart your shitty boss if not for the law.

But- and perhaps this is something that Vox knew deep down to be true anyway- Val was a bit different in that aspect. He'd met the man under... less than legal circumstances, after all, and he knew that Val was the heir to quite the illustrous cartel career.

So when Valentino stops him with a firm hand on the shoulder and hands him an application paper for Hazbin, telling him to think it through, Vox barely takes even a second glance at it before filling it out.

Now, two months later and sitting in the auditorium of Hazbin's famed Music Hall, Vox doesn't find himself regretting the decision. Sure, it's a bit lonely without Val's supporting presence by his side, but the students he's met so far have proved to be some of the friendliest people he's had the pleasure of knowing: ironic, considering the kind of school they're studying at. And he's even managed to make a friend! Not that bad a start, altogether.

Vox absentmindedly doodles on the edge of his notes as Professor Leviathan's soothing voice lectures them on the importance of a proper alibi. "If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, looks like a duck, but it has an airtight alibi, it is...?"

"Not a duck," the auditorium echoes back to the professor, who nods, looking satisfied with the class's response. "So, then! The first step to alibi making is...? Miss Velvette, perhaps you'd like to answer this one for us?"

The girl sitting beside Vox shoots up in her seat, looking as if she'd just fallen asleep and was awoken by the professor's question. "Uh... the..."

After a moment of silence and stuttering, Vox takes pity on the girl, sliding Velvette over a slide of paper that she squints at before reading. "Make sure you're in a different place from the crime?"

"And how would I do that?"

"I... uh. Use an accomplice...?" Velvette stutters.

Professor Leviathan shakes his head, looking disappointed. "Not quite. One thing you will have to learn at Hazbin's is that you should never rely on any other person to carry your deed out for you. No hiring accomplices- after all, paid personnel's loyalty is shaky and they have no honor code preventing them from taking you to the police- and absolutely no committing crimes as lovers, unless you can guarantee that neither of you will be snitching. Would anyone else like to take a try?"

Vox raises his hand hesitantly. "Move the crime scene or otherwise obscure the culprit?"

Professor Leviathan snaps his fingers, "Yes! Absolutely. One of the best ways to make yourself an iron clad alibi is, if the pope is shot in the church at midnight, make sure that you are seen halfway across town in the bar at midnight; so drunk that you cannot even leave until your wife comes to pick you up at two- and no one will suspect you, even if he was actually killed right outside the pub and moved to the church instead. By moving the crime scene, you can make yourself an ironclad alibi. Obscuring the identity of the perpetrator and making it someone who couldn't possibly be you also works splendidly. After all, if the police believe the murderer to be a six foot tall adult man, then the actual perpetrator, a four foot tall young woman, would be able to pass by completely unnoticed. Thank you for that input, Vox. Now, onto the actual creation of such an alibi..."

When class ends, Vox is the first to leave his seat and head for the door, intending on leaving and getting to Track with Professor Satan as quick as possible when someone stops him in his tracks with a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Hey. Vox Vanhal, right?"

"That would be me, yes," Vox turns to face the person he's talking to, only to be met with the young woman that Professor Leviathan had called out in class earlier. "You were... Velvette?"

"Yep, that's me," the chipper young woman responds. "Listen, I know you don't know me at all, but I really need to get through this school year. Like- look, okay, I'm in a little bit over my head right now. I still want to go here and do what everyone here does, of course, I'd love to just go and plunge a damn butcher's knife into my cunt of an ex-friend's neck, but... well, you saw how I did back in class- look, what I'm trying to get at is I need someone to help me. And you're like, Leviathan's star student. So- I don't care what I have to do, I'll-"

Vox holds up a hand to stop her.

"I don't need you to do anything for me, unless you've got any tips on how to kill my boss and make him suffer during it. But I'll help you with whatever you need to study during your courses. Just..." He pauses, taking a moment to think out what he's about to ask. "Could you teach me how you did your makeup on your own?"

Velvette blinks, clearly not expecting that response. She laughs, a shrill, sharp bark and grabs his hand to shake it firmly. "Yeah, 'course I can. So, do we have a deal?"

"We do," Vox smiles. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

[saturnniidae]

Trans!Hiccup later in life becoming more confident in himself and coming to terms with the fact knowing how to and doing things traditionally viewed as 'feminine' doesn't make him any less of a man my beloved.

He canonically knows how to sew. Like his attempted cover was he was 'making outfits' so why not? He definitely made his own armor, he probably makes his own clothes when he has the time. He said he wanted to he a 'bread making viking' (and yes i know it was a hasty lie but hear me out) so I'd like to think he knows at least how to bake and probably how to cook as well. And he enjoys these things and indulged in them when he's able to.

[vaguely-concerned]

sophia seeing cailan's body hanging there when they go back to ostagar, and suddenly all she can see even through the rot and the ruin is just how much he looked like alistair...... :'(

a mental image that totally will not haunt her through alistair's many years on the throne as rebellions and assassination attemps come and go. doesn't send her unhinged and unwise even a little

[thefabulousfab-3]

“Lorelai is the true villain of Gilmore Girls”

✨BLOCKED✨

[necrotic-nephilim]

Sorry this is out of nowhere, but I just read your Ra'sTim ask and the mental link DamiTim ask in quick succession and then started cackling out loud because all I could imagine is Damian simultaneously not only a) having his feelings for Tim forcibly outed to the whole family, but also b) having to live with the detailed knowledge of Tim having been deeply intimate with his grandfather. In conjunction with also now knowing way too much about how both Bruce and Jason fucked Talia. Like, this boy is really going through it.

ljkhjghgjhkjlk i'm CRYING help this is so funny. unrequited DamiTim featuring Tim sleeping with Ra's is the funniest thing in the world and honestly a genuine idea i've toyed with before. but combining those two concepts is so fun and cursed. Damian having to deal with double the horror of Jason and his mother sleeping together and Tim and his grandfather sleeping together, while his own feelings for Tim are outed, honestly I'd just move to another planet if that happened to me. it's fun as a serious idea for the complexities and the layers of it, but oh it gives me a giggle. someone else in the Batfam has gotta take one for the team and fuck Mara al Ghul or Respawn or something just to bring it full circle.

[gothmiqote]

Varha keeps poking at me with more Family Lore TM as an explanation for why her current relationship with Rhaya’ra is Like That & it’s coming in the form of “actually Three of us survived the calamity physically but one is suspiciously Not Present Now & also she was definitely Rhaya’s favourite sister :)”

I don’t have a name for this sibling yet but she’s. Definitely not going to be making any present day appearances that’s for sure.