#i feel like people who say this often are like ‘i just don’t know how to represent that kind of relationship’

[xoxochb]

aphrodite!reader falling asleep on percy’s lap!!

— cabin ten ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: un-established bc it makes this way cuter, this is super duper short pairing: percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite

don’t move don’t move don’t move don’t move.

he shouldn’t move— should he? no. he can’t move, no, not when you of all people had fallen into a deep slumber atop his lap. he has to let you rest, you’ve been so utterly busy with your camp duties percy isn’t sure you’ve even taken the opportunity to sleep for even a second. he’ll let you rest, he’ll let you close your eyes for a bit and enter hypnos’ realm until he’s ready to return you.

this doesn’t mean he can help the uncontrollable blush forming over his cheeks, because you of all people chose to sleep on his lap! you— his crush! It’s like a dream, wait, is it a dream? would he wake up and find out none of this was real? no, it’s real, he feels your steady breath, in and out, and your hair draped over his leg. It’s very real. he doesn’t dare move a single inch, even if his legs feel static-y, those entering the same state you’re currently in. he wants you to sleep as good as humanly possible.

though, he would have to scold you later for falling asleep during the middle of his ramble. at the same time, however, he couldn’t blame you. the cabin ten lighting was utterly comforting and placed a cozy aura into the cabin. he wishes himself he would fall asleep alongside you. unfortunately, if he slept in this position he’d wake up with some of the worst back pains of his life. he fights to stay awake. to occupy his time for the remainder of your rest, he cards a hand through your silky hair, parting the strands, and placing them back together.

soon after, you begin to shift in your position, he catches the light flutter of your eyes opening and quickly departs his hand from your hair.

“morning, sleepyhead.”

it’s silent for a moment as you recollect yourself. “how… I- how long was I asleep for?”

you sit up from your spot on his lap. percy frowns at the loss of contact, nonetheless still happy that now you’re facing him and he’s granted better access to your face.

“an hour— uhm, an hour and a half.”

your brows furrow, though ultimately not caring since you’re not well-rested. “sorry for… y’know, falling asleep on you…”

“no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” says percy who stretches out his legs. finally. “are you feeling better?”

“like a million bucks.”

he laughs softly. “that’s good to know. maybe you should sleep on me more often.”

“don’t tempt me, I will.” your worried expression is replaced by a teasing smile. percy suddenly feels weak at the knees. thank the gods he’s sitting down.

“I won’t mind that. my turn to sleep on your lap now?” he jokes. and he didn’t expect you to say yes to this, but happily you pat your lap and beckon him over. his demeanor is quickly switched, however, when the next words slip from your mouth,

“just don’t drool on me, kay?”

[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

masterlist

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.”

[txrully]

WATASHI NO AIDORU SAMA!

summary: IN WHICH BLLK BOYS DATE AN IDOL!

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, chigiri hyoma, hiori yo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness.

warning: fem! reader implied

isagi yoichi

isagi is in awe of you. your determination, charm, and the way you captivate an audience—he’s lowkey your #1 fan. he’s also the boyfriend who overthinks everything. is he doing enough? are you eating properly? is his goodnight text too basic? but when you’re overwhelmed by the pressures of being an idol, he’s the one who brings you back down to earth with his soft smiles and reassuring words.

when he attends your concerts, he tries to keep a low profile, but the way he beams when you glance at him gives him away every time.

"yoichi, they caught you smiling like a lovesick puppy in the crowd."

"but you looked so cool up there! how could I not?!"

"next time, at least wear sunglasses."

"then how will you see me cheering for you?"

bachira meguru

bachira lives for the drama of dating you. the glitz and glam? he loves it. sneaking into your dressing room mid-rehearsal? absolutely. he thrives on making you laugh, especially when the idol world feels too suffocating. he even suggests the most ridiculous disguises when you want to go out, like matching frog hats or dressing up as old people.

he’s also not shy about flaunting your relationship, sending chaotic selfies to your fan club and saying, “aren’t we cute?” yeah, he’s banned from your socials now.

"bachira, stop posting pictures of us!"

"what? they love me. look, 10k likes already!"

"i will revoke your access to my phone."

"awwww :("

itoshi rin

rin doesn’t care about fame, but oh boy, he cares about you. the media knows him as the stoic, no-nonsense soccer prodigy, but behind closed doors, he’s your biggest supporter. he secretly streams your performances and even sets your songs as his alarm (though he’ll deny it if you ever find out). when you’re busy with schedules, rin shows his love in quiet ways—making sure you eat, sending random texts like, “don’t overwork yourself. i mean it.”

but paparazzi catching him sneaking into your concerts? yeah, that’s not part of his plan.

"you know they saw you, right?"

"tch. who cares?"

"rin, they’re calling you my biggest fanboy on twitter."

"...well, they’re not wrong."

nagi seishiro

nagi finds your idol schedule exhausting just hearing about it. but he loves you, so he makes the effort. he’s the type to show up to your rehearsals half-asleep, holding your favorite snacks. when you’re performing, though, he’s laser-focused, recording every moment because “you look cool up there.”

he also doesn’t get jealous often, but when a fanboy gets too enthusiastic, he’ll casually sling an arm around your shoulder and deadpan, “she’s taken.”

"sei, were you napping backstage?"

"mm. comfy couch."

"you’re unbelievable."

"but i got your favorite chips."

"...okay, forgiven."

mikage reo

reo is the ultimate boyfriend-slash-manager. need help with your contract? done. overwhelmed with schedules? he’s already booked a spa day for you. he’s your rock in the chaotic idol world, always reminding you that it’s okay to take a break.

he also spoils you shamelessly—designer dresses for red carpets, private dinners after concerts, and the fanciest bouquets delivered to your dressing room.

"reo, you didn’t have to buy out the whole bakery just because i said i liked their croissants."

"but you deserve the best."

"...i’m keeping the chocolate ones."

"all yours, my love."

chigiri hyoma

chigiri gets it. as someone constantly in the spotlight himself, he knows how draining it can be. he’s always there to hype you up, whether it’s helping you perfect a dance move or rehearsing lines for interviews. when you feel insecure, he’s the first to remind you of how talented and beautiful you are.

his favorite moments are when it’s just the two of you—no cameras, no fans, just quiet walks or lazy afternoons.

"hyo, do you think i’m doing okay?"

"you’re doing amazing. and even if the whole world doesn’t see it, i do."

"you’re too sweet."

"only for you."

hiori yo

hiori loves your passion for performing, but he worries about how much it takes out of you. he’s the type to leave little notes in your bag—"you’ve got this!" or "don’t forget to eat!"—and surprise you with coffee during long rehearsals.

he doesn’t love the spotlight, but for you? he’ll put up with it, even if it means sitting front-row at your concerts surrounded by screaming fans.

"yo, are you okay? you looked uncomfortable out there."

"yeah, i’m fine. just not used to being around so many people."

"next time, i’ll get you noise-canceling headphones."

"i’ll wear them if they have your voice recorded on loop."

shidou ryusei

shidou lives for the chaos of your idol life. paparazzi? fans? scandals? bring it on. he thrives on being the center of attention, especially when it involves you. he’s the boyfriend who gets caught sneaking onto stage mid-performance just to blow you a kiss.

he’s also fiercely protective, ready to throw hands with anyone who disrespects you. but when it’s just the two of you, he’s surprisingly soft, reminding you why you fell for him in the first place.

"ryu, you can’t just interrupt my concerts!"

"what? they loved it. besides, i missed you."

"you saw me five minutes ago!"

"five minutes too long."

itoshi sae

sae isn’t the best at expressing his feelings, but his actions speak volumes. he doesn’t show up to your events often, but when he does, it’s with flowers in hand and a rare smile just for you. he admires your dedication but worries you’re pushing yourself too hard.

he’s also your harshest yet most supportive critic, always giving honest feedback because he wants you to be your best.

"sae, was my performance okay?"

"it was good. but you can do better."

"...you could’ve just said you’re proud of me."

"i am. but you already knew that."

michael kaiser

kaiser adores the spotlight, and dating you? it only adds to his charm. he loves flaunting your relationship, whether it’s through matching outfits or casually mentioning you in interviews. he’s cocky, but his support is unwavering, always hyping you up like your personal cheerleader.

he’s also lowkey competitive, challenging you to see who can trend on social media first after a big event. spoiler: you always win.

"kaiser, stop refreshing twitter."

"i need to know if we’re trending."

"you’re ridiculous."

"ridiculously in love with you."

alexis ness

ness is the sweetest, most wholesome boyfriend. he’s constantly in awe of your talent and works hard to make you feel appreciated, from writing you letters to learning your favorite songs on the piano. he’s also your biggest fan, always gushing about you to anyone who’ll listen.

he gets flustered when fans recognize him as “your boyfriend” but secretly loves it.

"ness, are you blushing?"

"n-no! i just—your fans are so nice."

"you’re adorable."

"not as adorable as you."

© txrully :: 2024

do not copy, translate or plagiarize my works.

[adimouze]

post-las vegas WDC max/daniel, rated M. ~1300 words. @girlsdads mentioned something about a lil bit of LL hating in a fic so. I did a lil bit of LL hating too.

-

A face floats into Max’s field of vision probably three hours into the fifth different party Max had been shepherded to since the race ended. He’s about ninety-percent sure he’s still in Las Vegas. He blinks blearily at it, hoping at least it’s pretty enough to look at. It has been a while since. Since.

Liam Lawson blinks back. Not who he was expecting. Gross. 

“Max,” he says, sounding too sober for whatever time it is. The club is loud but Max can still unfortunately hear him. “Are you okay?”

Max attempts a sweeping gesture, he’s carrying a glass of something and it hits someone’s back, making Max drop it with a smash. Liam cringes, looking like he’s about to complain. “This is my party, mate,” Max says, cutting off whatever Liam was going to say. “I’m fucking great.”

“Christian just left,” Liam says, and Max kind of hates how he talks but what can you do. Maybe he just doesn’t like Liam. “I think there’s another party happening a few blocks from now, do you want to join me?”

If Christian left that means Max can leave without theoretically offending anybody, even though it is his party. Half of the people around him don’t seem like people he knows anyway. “Nah man, you go on ahead, I’ll head back to the hotel –”

“Oh then I’ll head back with you,” Liam’s probably the most cheerful he’s been since Max met him. “Yuki scored and left me here.” 

Pity isn’t something Max feels often, but he does feel a bit of pity now. In his first year he was never left alone in clubs, either Carlos or Daniel were always there making sure they were around to get him back to wherever before they took someone home or to their hotel rooms. More often it was Daniel, and more often Daniel didn’t take anyone home, because they were sharing a room and more often it was just fun to watch onboards together, side by side. 

No one else but them. 

Then again, Max was a teenager in his first year and Liam’s twenty-two. He wouldn’t need babysitting. 

“Alright,” Max isn’t sure where he is. He doesn’t know how to ask Liam without sounding like an absolute idiot. 

“I have a car waiting,” Liam adds, after Max stared off into the distance for a few seconds, willing someone to appear with a car. Maybe Max isn’t being as subtle as he thought he was. 

_____

Red Bull and VCARB drivers are often put up in the same hotel, usually the standard room but Helmut had finangled him a penthouse upgrade on Thursday, telling Max that he deserved a proper room to party in, like Max was going to bring home an orgy. 

He’s pretty sure Liam couldn’t possibly have gotten a penthouse upgrade too. He’s sure hotels only have one penthouse? He’s sure. If he was less drunk he would be surer. But Liam makes no move to push any buttons. 

“Mind if I come up for a nightcap?” Liam asks, smiling. This is the most Max has seen him smile ever since he got Daniel…ever since Daniel left and he jumped in the car. Max does not want him to come up for a nightcap but Max is feeling generous tonight. 

“Sure, why not.” Someone had spilled what seems like a bottle of champagne on him at some point in the night and his shirt is sticking to him. He’s too tired to shower. Meh. It’ll be a problem for hungover Max tomorrow. 

The lift goes up insanely fast but still feels too slow for Max tonight. He’s WDC, four times WDC, he’s used to faster things, sue him. Liam is still staring at him. 

“Good driving tonight,” Max says, for want of anything better to do or say. He has no idea where Liam finished to be honest. 

“I finished 16,” Liam says flatly. Yikes. Well. 

The door dings open onto Max’s floor. And. 

Daniel’s sitting on the giant sectional of the penthouse living room. 

He looks gorgeous. Max wants to stare forever. He looks broad and good and tanned, his beard has filled in a lot more than when Max last saw him in Monaco, his hair thicker. The sweatshirt he’s wearing looks less oversized than usual, fitting his shoulders instead of drooping over them, and his trousers make his thighs look great. 

He’s smirking. He looks like a frat guy. He looks like one of those men from Victoria’s magazines that Max definitely didn’t jerk off over. 

Max is probably drooling, and Liam runs into him as he’s stepping out of the lift. 

“Oh sorry mate I – Daniel, hello.” Liam’s voice is a bit high. Confused. Probably scared. “Didn’t realize you were in Vegas. Red Bull didn’t…”

Daniel stands up and comes over. Max is still staring. Daniel moves like an apex predator and Liam’s just the runt of litter in this.  “Hey Liam. Well. Red Bull doesn’t own me anymore mate, do they? I can be wherever I want.”

He claps Liam on the shoulder in greeting then grabs Max’s limp hand. “Came to see my boy be the World Champion again.”

Liam’s probably saying something but Max doesn’t care, because Daniel’s pulling him in, arms going around Max, sticky shirt and all, and Max is going to swoon because Daniel smells good, good, good, their lips meeting after ages, Daniel’s lips and tongue the best, most refreshing thing Max has tasted all night. Someone’s moaning. 

It’s him. 

“Um…”

Liam’s still there. 

Max tries to pull back but Daniel’s got his hands on his ass, lifting, lifting, and Max’s legs going around him in response, and Daniel’s got them on the sofa in a second, Max perched on Daniel’s wide wide thighs without even separating their lips once. It’s the hottest thing Max has ever felt. He’s going to come just from the thought alone. 

“Liam,” Daniel’s saying, pulling back a few centimeters to give Max some breathing space. “I’m going to fuck my husband on this sofa right now, and he’s going to be screaming loud enough to be heard from the moon. So like,” he pops the k, and Max’s dick twitches, precome dripping into his underwear, “unless you want a front row seat to that for some reason, shouldn’t you be heading to bed?” 

“Husband?” Liam’s stuttering. “Excuse me? You can’t – Does Christian know? He’s going to be so mad at you, Max what the fuck –?”

“Get out,” Daniel says. Max has never heard him sound like that. “Now.” 

“I’m calling Christian,” Liam says as a parting shot. “He won’t – he’s not going to allow this.”

“Yeah you do that, mate,” Daniel rolls his eyes then squeezes Max’s ass harder. God, he’s so hot. Max feels insane. Husband husband husband. “What’s he going to do, fire me again?” 

The lift dings shut again. They’re blessedly alone. 

“Husband?” Max snorts, shivering as Daniel’s fingers undo his pant buttons. “Bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”

“The ring’s in the suitcase, baby,” Daniel says, smiling like a wolf, fingers curling around Max’s dick. Max grinds into the feeling, needing Daniel inside him right now. This is the best day of his life. “Was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Let me think about it,” Max laughs, and Daniel bites his nipple through his shirt. “Liam’s probably told the Herald by now.”

“I’ll personally send him the wedding photos,” Daniel cackles, licking up Max’s neck, leaving wet trails in the cold air con of the room, “if he promises to send me photos of Christian when he tells him I was about to fuck him in front of you.”

“Stop talking about Christian and fuck the World Champion already, husband,” Max says, his laughter turning into moans when Daniel all too willingly complies.

[sliced-peaches]

hit it off right

Jeong Jaehyun x reader | 5.8k | friends to…?

After hearing about him for what seems like forever, you finally meet Jungwoo’s hot roommate. But it’s a lot more wholesome than anything else.

📀 now playing: say it - maggie rogers // decent - bas, amaarae // perfect places - lorde // dear to me - electric guest

a/n: seeing Jae getting drunk with YoungJi did something for me. I miss him and it’s really hard being a military wife. this is part of a larger collection coming soon, so nothing spicy. pls enjoy~

mentions of: other nct members, bff! Jungwoo, alcohol consumption, marijuana usage, light flirting, honestly tho everyone is just shy and cute and silly

A few days before the party, you’d asked Jungwoo what kind of wine his roommate liked. Since it was a celebration, you figured you should at least bring a gift.

“He told me to tell you to not bring anything.”

“How could he even know?” You whine, incredulous.

“Because I know you and your habit of balling out on people who are being celebrated.”

There’s not much you can say to that. You are known to bring a nice bottle of something that suits the taste of the one being celebrated. You love to see the joy on someone’s face when they get a tailored gift.

It’s the least you could do for someone when you notice their hard work. It feels good to appreciate someone, especially a friend like Jungwoo. It’s only natural you’d extend the perks to his roommate, right?

“You talk to your roomie about me?” You coo, poking his cheek. Setting his coffee cup down, he nods, seemingly pleased to share this piece of information with you.

“In passing. I told him you were coming, that I invited your coworker, too. I’ve gushed about her to him a few times. He just kinda smiled? Not in a weird way. Like… I don’t know. He just stared at me for a few seconds. Then he said he was happy to hear that. So-“

“Sounds like he’s in full support.”

Jungwoo smiles, bringing the cup back to his lips. Then he gives you a sly look over the rim before he speaks again.

“He also asked me about you.”

“What about me?”

“I guess I talk about you all the time, right? I told him about your art, all the art shows you’re in. I’m sure I’ve shown him a picture of you before, like from that time we went to the beach.”

“You showed your roommate my bikini photos?”

His eyes widen and he starts to immediately apologize when raise your hands to cut him off.

“Wait. Did he like them?”

“He… didn’t say much of anything if I’m being honest.”

“Oh.”

“Which doesn’t really mean anything, honestly. Sometimes he just doesn’t have anything to say.”

“…okay that’s a little better.”

It’s hard to imagine Jungwoo living with someone who doesn’t talk as much as he does.

The way you two often communicate is rapid-fire, dramatic, occasionally riffing off the other’s jokes. He likes to share his thoughts out loud and use you as a sounding board. You like to ramble about abstract art ideas and the special interest of the week.

Trying to picture your yap king living with someone who probably makes three facial expressions a year (says Jungwoo) makes you wish you could be a fly on the wall.

“How much have I told you about Jae? I know he’s always out, or at work so….”

His roommate’s name is Jaehyun. All you really know about him is that he’s close in age to Jungwoo, he used to be really competitive m, and that he has a cousin somewhere in Europe. Not much else past that.

“One time I was over you showed me a photo or two from when you guys were in high school. I’ve seen him in your stories too.”

“You said he was cute! I forgot about that.”

You recall a guy with dark hair and a cute bowl cut, wearing the same basketball jersey as Jungwoo. When you said cute, you were referring to their round faces and goofy hair cuts. The more recent pictures on Instagram were usually from an angle where you couldn’t really see his face, but he was always dressed nice from what you could tell.

“He was! Little cutie stranger man.”

There’s a beat.

“Okay, so about that. He’s was cute but now he’s, like, super handsome.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, he’s hot. Bulked up, started dressing nicer, smells good. His jawline is insane. He should actually model. I didn’t know he was going to look like that when we grew up, you know?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Damn, you ever told him all that?”

“All the time, actually. He’s so sick of me. At this point I’m just saying something that’s objectively true. You’d be lying if you thought he was ugly. So that being said-“

He whips his head towards you, you watch a plot and scheme form in his brain. His lips curl into something devilish.

“Careful not to fall in love with my roommate, yeah?”

You blink at him, two times. Three times.

“Huh?”

His words sounded like a warning, but it feels like he very much would prefer you do the opposite.

“I just feel like he’s someone you’d fall for.”

“You’ve never seen me fall for anyone. Not once since you’ve known me.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m saying… I think you guys will get along well.”

“Don’t hope too hard, but I’m sure he’s lovely.”

Sighing, Jungwoo offers you a sympathetic look. You ignore it and instead check for any emails from the art festival you’re vending at later in the month. It’s not much help, as you can still feel his eyes on you.

“I think he’d be good for you.”

“I don’t think playing matchmaker with your friends is that good of an idea,” you clipped.

Right before you met Jungwoo in senior year of college, you’d been in a relationship that ended pretty badly. You were in love, and you think he was, too. At one point at least.

But when things run their course, and you stay in them too long, they start to drain you of everything.

You’d lost a lot of time and energy trying to be pretty enough, interesting enough, desirable enough to keep the spark alive. To keep his attention. But to no avail. It was like he was just waiting for you to leave.

After a while, feeling empty and settling for whatever he could toss your way was too much to bear. It was just time to let go.

It was hard when at the end, you realized he just didn’t love you like you loved him. But was too scared himself to be honest with you about it.

Heartbreak was one thing, but grieving a relationship that wasn’t all that real was another. It took you a long time to move through that pain.

Jungwoo watched you put a lot of effort into rebuilding your personality, your self worth, your confidence. He was nothing but supportive, as were your other friends, dragging you to every show in the city, joining you at a new cafe or listening to your new ideas about art you’d been neglecting. And Jungwoo’s friends were a wonderful addition to your life, as well.

It was beyond being choosy- you’d taken yourself out of the dating game altogether, focusing on work, art, your friends. Yourself.

Now you were very careful not to let anyone in and disrupt that. It’s been a beautiful life to fall back into; you’d hate to lose it to the wrong person.

Jungwoo is nothing but understanding still, squeezing your arm instead of pushing any further.

“Well, regardless, I know you’ll get along well. Even as friends.”

You roll your eyes at him, a small smile creeping back onto your face.

“Don’t look into his eyes, though, seriously. He’s something else.”

On the trip over to Jungwoos apartment your friend tells you about her day, catching you up on some work gossip and her roommates string of interesting dates.

She laughs at how engrossed you are in her words, loving how excited you are to listen to the tea. You’re asking questions, connecting dots. The entertainment is delicious.

“I’m never on shit, so I’m living vicariously through you guys,” you sigh.

“We’re on shit tonight! I’m excited to party with Jungwoo.”

You flit your eyes over to her. “Yeah?”

“Girl, yes. He seems like a good person to party with. He’s always so bubbly and sweet when we go out for coffee, and always supportive of you so he’s good in my book.”

You wish she knew why you were smiling so big.

“He is a sweetheart, and a wonderful friend. I feel like you guys will get along well, I’m surprised we haven’t all gone out before.”

Pulling your phone out, you open your camera to check for a lipgloss reapplication when text from Jungwoo comes through.

woo-ah: 🎶 what’s ur ETA?🎵

“C-can I be honest with you?”

Immediately you lock your phone, adjusting your body to give her your full attention.

“Of course you can.”

She glances towards the driver, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth like she’s telling you a juicy secret.

“I think he’s gorgeous.” Her cute confession has you both giggling like schoolgirls in the back of the rideshare. “Don’t tell him, please!”

“Babe, your secret is safe with me.” You pinch your fingers together, pretending to zip your lips. “You wanna hear a secret?”

Her eyes widen in anticipation.

“I think he thinks you’re cute, too.”

“Shut up, no way!”

“Let’s just say I have insider info.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

you: appx 4 min 🤠

woo-ah: 🪩🕺🫶🏼

You lock arms with your friend as you lead the way into the apartment building, being here enough times to know what floor and that the right elevator is faster than the left.

She’s talking about the book her roommate just recommended her as you get to Jungwoos floor. You even ask her to send you a text, saying that she should start a bookclub as you rap your knuckles on the door.

Jungwoo opens the door, moving to hug you both and welcome you into the apartment.

“Come in, come in!”

Music is playing from a speaker, and a chorus of voices comes from the living room.

You walk ahead of Jungwoo and your friend, who are exchanging thank you’s for invitations and gifts of alcohol, and a chorus of voices welcomes you in the living room.

Doyoung and Donghyuck practically race and slide around in their socks to hug you and kiss you on the forehead and you pull them in for a haphazard group hug.

“Long time no see!” Doyoung clasps his hands together. “It’s so nice to have us all together at one time.”

“What a mom, we’re here to get shitfaced.” Donghyuck teasing Doyoung is secretly something you live for, but you pretend to defend Doyoung from him.

“Let us get a few drinks in before you start shit talking him, damn!”

The guys make sure you’re introduced to the rest of their friends, the ones you haven’t had a chance to meet yet. You’ve heard all their names in conversation, usually when talking about some social event or fun times they had back in school. It was wonderful to finally put names to faces, and they were more than happy to do the same for you.

“Jungwoo finally brought you around!” Renjun and Jaemin cheer. “We’ve been wanting to meet you for so long.”

You blush under all the affection from them.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you guys.”

“Come on, you have to try the cocktail YangYang made.”

Dragging you into the kitchen, you’re flooded by more introductions, jokes and insanely loud laughter, and it feels like you’ve been doing this for years with them already.

YangYang passes you a glass, a sliced lemon garnishing the side and all. You take one sip, then immediately take another. “Wow, this is delicious. Thank you!”

“There are three kinds of liquors in there,” he says, shooting you an apologetic look. “All light, but they told me I had to get everyone drunk, so-“

Before he can even try to apologize, stop him.

“That’s my kind of drink, then!” And you propose a toast with whoever’s in the kitchen.

The cheers begin to die down when someone walks into the kitchen.

Jungwoo has a lot of attractive friends. You knew this from the jump. He’s a model, he had model friends, friends who were in entertainment and the arts. From seeing whoever was on his Instagram story every few weeks, to getting drinks with everyone else occasionally, you’d gotten very used to being surrounded by pretty men.

Jungwoo did not prepare you well enough for Jeong Jaehyun.

“It’s our boy! Congratulations!”

The kitchen erupts into more greetings and well wishes as the man of the hour had just arrived. You sit back as everyone moves into pat him on the back, hug him or, like Donghyuck, kiss him right on the cheek.

Everyone’s voices just turn into background noise as you take him in.

He smiles the most beautiful smile you’ve ever been blessed enough to witness, and you have to force yourself to take a large sip of your drink so not to gawk at him.

Renjun and Jaemin motion for you to come closer, and you use the one solid second you have to steel your nerves as you step closer to them.

Jaemin slings his arm around you. “Jae, have you met our girl yet?”

Renjun playfully shakes his arm. “Jungwoo has been keeping her from us for eons.”

Jaehyun takes a step closer to you. He’s tall, much taller than you, so you have to tilt your head back to fully look at him.

And what a sight to see.

Jaehyun smiles again, a little shy but just for you. His eyes crinkle at the corners, smile so sincere and kind like he’s smiling at someone he’s known for years.

Extending his hand out to you, he wants to greet you properly. Shakily you place your smaller hand in his. But instead of shaking your hand, he uses both hands to gently hold it.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

The baritone voice almost knocks you on your ass.

Taking take a moment to will some confidence, some chill to come through when you speak, you swallow and push your shoulders back.

“You as well, Jaehyun. It’s been a long time coming, yeah?”

It’s taking everything in you to sound normal and relaxed, unfazed by this man.

He cocks his head to the side and laughs, his nose crinkling and smile lines that resemble whiskers making themselves visible. The sight makes your head spin.

“A very long time.” He releases your hand, and you place it against the side of your glass hoping it will absorb some of the heat from the exchange. “Thank you for coming.”

With your resolve expiring in seconds, you’re so thankful for Jungwoo making his way into the kitchen. While he introduces your work friend to Jaehyun, you shuffle out the kitchen alongside Renjun and Jaemin.

You sit on the armrest of the couch, listening to them bicker over what game the party should play first, remembering how to breathe.

Jaehyun quietly settles into a chair for one close to you, tuning into the commotion. He doesn’t make a move towards you, and you’re glad even if just for a moment. Out the corner of your eye, you take him in.

Handsome isn’t the right word to use, you think. He’s dressed clean and simple, nice jeans and a white t-shirt. The side profile is something unreal, perfect chiseled features but his face still soft and welcoming. His dark hair is slightly pushed back, a few stands falling over his forehead. He leans forward to tap Jaemin on the shoulder, complimenting him on ‘how big he’s gotten’ at the gym, with the younger preening under his praise.

Just in the short time in the same room, it’s clear that Jaehyun is like a big brother. And from what Jungwoo has told you is super sweet and caring. That alone makes you want to know him more, and makes him all the more attractive.

Looking over at you, he offers you a small smile which you mirror to avoid coming off as awkward. Noticing that you are both nursing the same drink, he raises his glass towards you for a small toast.

“To you and the summer,” you offer, raising your glass as you do so.

“I can drink to that.”

You take another large swig of your drink, hoping after the third your nerves can handle more than two sentences next time.

It’s silly, you think, to be this affected by a man. An attractive one, yes. But just a man. A friend of a friend, even.

Jungwoo’s words echo in the back of your mind, that he thought you and Jaehyun would get along well. Part of you doesn’t want to prove him right, but another part of you wonders if getting along with Jaehyun wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

So you try your best to start and make conversation.

“I heard about your promotion, congratulations!”

“Ah thank you,” he says, smiling into his cup. “It’s actually more of a career change.”

“Really? What are you going to be doing?”

He takes a minute to respond, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard in the first place. Before you can repeat yourself, however, he’s speaking again.

“I’m… writing music. Singing some, too. For me and for others.” He points over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll be working with Taeyong a lot, in his studio.”

Eyebrows raising, you lean in a bit.

“You sing, Jaehyun?”

“Sometimes.” He takes a drink. “I write stories on artists, interview people in music. Do some editing. The company I work for was really cool about letting me try different things, I really liked working for them.”

There’s a moment where you’re not sure if he’s going to speak again, and right when you think you should ask another question he continues.

“But I always wanted to sing my own songs, produce my own work. My current line of business has its perks, a lot of connections too. So I’ve been working on my own stuff on the side.”

You didn’t peg him as someone in performance- he’s so pretty you’re surprised he isn’t a model or an actor honestly. But he doesn’t seem to be anything anyone would think at first glance.

“That’s so exciting. Especially working with friends, I like Taeyongie’s music. And ’m really happy to hear you’re able to chase after your dream.”

“Thank you, I’m excited to share.”

He looks at you through his eyelashes as he takes another drink.

So we’re both trying to numb our nerves, you thought to yourself.

“I hope I get to hear some music from you soon.”

He casts another smile your way, and that’s when you know the liquor is kicking in because it doesn’t send you reeling this time.

“I hope you do, too. Soon.”

“Shots?”

Everyone gathers around in the living room, passing small glasses around to those partaking in alcoholic festivities tonight. You pass one to Jaehyun, who holds it up against the light.

“I haven’t taken a shot in a long time.”

“I got you the good shit, Jae.” Jungwoo holds up two expensive bottles. “Whiskey? Or gin?”

“Oh shit… let’s do the gin. Sticking with lights tonight.”

He asks for your preference, and you do the same.

Jungwoo opens the bottle of gin and pours the first round of shots for the night. After he pours his own, he holds his glass up for a toast.

“I know this is, like, the fourth toast of the night but it probably won’t be the last if I’m being honest.”

Taeyong groans. “I’m betting on at least seven in total.”

“Those are rookie numbers,” YangYang yells out, the younger boys cackling and suggesting higher numbers.

“Anyway!” Jungwoo bangs the gin bottle on the coffee table. “This is the emotional one. It’s the end of the summer and I hate to see her go. But we’re moving into fall, and falling into our new lives-“

Donghyuck pretends to yawn.

“Dude shut up, it’s just Jaehyun-”

“I’m not finished!” And he taps the bottle again, your head falling against the back of the couch in silent laughter. “Thank you all for being part of another summer and thank you guys for coming to celebrate one of my closest, oldest friends.”

“Literally.”

Doyoung throws a pillow at Donghyuck and motions for Jungwoo to continue.

Jungwoo turns to Jaehyun, who’s made his way onto the couch alongside you and your friend. “I’m happy to see you make your wildest dreams come true. I can’t wait to see you become the sexy superstar you were always meant to be. Cheers!”

The room is full of cheers and then groans from knocking back shots with no chasers, but it’s a pleasant burn as it slides down your throat.

You blow a kiss at Jungwoo, wiping a fake tear from your eye. “Your speech was beautiful. Very moving.”

The next hour is filled with mini beer pong (players had to sip water instead of alcohol, many thanks to Doyoung), stories about the boys time in school or how some of them met their partners, and shared soju.

The boys complain that he’ll cheat if he plays so instead Jaehyun shares a strong bottle of peach soju, his favorite, with you and your coworker.

At first, it’s very cute to just watch Jaehyun laugh at all of his friends antics. He enjoys listening, occasionally cracking a few jokes or making funny noises. But he’s more than happy to settle back into the couch and observe.

But he’s also big on being a good host, even if he’s the one being celebrated- if he isn’t offering you another drink he’s offering to grab something from the kitchen for you. They’re small but clear gestures to make sure his couch neighbors are as comfortable as he is.

He’s laid back and quiet but attentive- it has you swooning a bit. It’s a contrast to the rest of the men in the apartment, who are also sweet but characteristically loud and rambunctious. You love it, but it’s fascinating to watch Jaehyun hum and giggle to himself rather than dominate a conversation.

After you clear the second soju bottle and Jungwoo has wedged himself between you and your friend, you think you hear Jaehyun giggle beside you.

“What’s so funny?” You laugh, setting the empty bottle down on the coffee table.

He just shrugs, cheeks beginning to flush from the alcohol. He’s pretty like this, you think.

“Are you a silly drunk, Jae?” You tease, catching the attention of Donghyuck.

“Oh man, he’s gonna start getting real silly soon.” The younger man comes to sit on the armrest closest to Jaehyun, affectionately brushing his hair off his forehead. He weakly tries to swat Donghyucks hand away.

“I’m not silly,” he tries to argue, way too cute and whiny compared to the man you met just two hours ago.

“You’re sooo silly right now,” Donghyuck laughs. “She’s going to have to take care of you soon!”

His eyebrows shoot up and he tries to sit straighter, attempting to coolly settle against the back of the couch. “No, no. I’m fine. I’m-“

“Come get some air with us!” Jaemin and Donghyuck pull him up by his arms, with little to no resistance from Jaehyun. He just rolls his eyes as they pull him to his feet.

Jaemin cheers, pushing him towards the sliding door to the deck.

Looking over his shoulder, he nods at you. “Need anything while I’m up?”

You wave him off towards the door.

“No, I’m okay. Go get some air.”

With you beaming up at him, Jaehyun swears the room has gotten a few degrees hotter. The air will do him good.

Jaehyun finds you in the kitchen later, just finishing one of the cookies someone brought. You pass one to him and he finishes it in one bite.

“How many drinks in are you?”

“Shit… I’m at about four. Not including that shot.”

“I think I’m at about the same,” he says, shuffling closer to you at the kitchen island overlooking the living room.

There’s a moment of silence that you share, watching all of his and Jungwoos friends (and yours now) fill up the apartment with laughter (and some screaming- Renjun set Mario Kart up on the tv).

Your heart swells knowing how loved Jungwoo is, as well as Jaehyun.

But then it dawns on you that you haven’t seen Jungwoo or your friend in a while. Before you can mention that to Jaehyun, he bumps his hip against yours.

The alcohol might not have been enough to turn the alarms off in your brain yet, but your body is slow to react to him essentially snuggling into your side. He’s warm, and he smells warm too. Like a vanilla candle. There’s something else you can’t place, but it’s more than pleasant.

“I have to tell you a secret.” He whispers, and it’s cute and kind of whiny.

“A secret?” You say, barely over a whisper. He nods slowly, looking into the crowd.

He can’t see shit, in all honesty.

“I may or may not be a little crossed.”

“That’s what I smell on you?”

“Shit, is it bad?” Just like that, he’s a little more self conscious than he is silly. He smells his shirt in a few different places, earning a laugh from you.

“No, you’re fine. It’s because you’re so close that I can smell it.” He sighs and laughs almost at himself. “Is that where you and the boys went?”

“Yeah. I don’t usually smoke but it’s something like a special occasion.”

“Absolutely it is. You deserve it.”

He simply hums, letting a a few seconds pass before he speaks again.

“You smoke?”

“Weed? Rarely.”

“Cigs?”

“Not once in my life.”

“Good for you, we’re all nicotine addicts in here.”

“Vape away, I could never judge.”

At that you both turn towards the other at the same time, chests inches apart.

His eyes are low from the weed, the whites tinted red. He’s looking down at you, a silly, boyish grin on his lips. You can’t help but blush under his gaze, lips curving into a grin of their own.

“Thanks for coming tonight.” His voice is soft, barely audible. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning into him, wishing to hear him a little louder.

“Of course, I had to support the homie. And play wingman.”

He tilts his head back to glance around the room , the realization hitting him then.

“Oh shit, I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“Then I guess I did a good job. I barely did anything but whatever.”

He laughs, voice deep and rumbly. “You did great.”

He leans onto the counter, his arm resting closing to where your hip sits against the edge. He slowly shifts his eyes back over to you, looking over your frame. Just once, even his sluggish brain is careful not to get ahead of itself.

“I’m glad we finally got to meet.”

“I am too.” Your skin is on fire under his intense gaze. It’s not so much intense as it is just so warm, so amiable. You deflect to take some of the heat off of you, quite literally. “Jungwoo talks about you all the time.”

“Yeah? What does he say?”

That you’re so fucking handsome and I’d be stupid to lie and disagree.

“That you don’t say too much, but you’re a really good friend.”

A surprised look washed over his face, then he turns sheepish.

“He’s…… that’s sweet of him.” Jaehyun rubs the back of his neck, thinking on his next words as carefully as his crossed mind will allow him. “I’m glad you’re his friend. He needs someone like you.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone who isn’t as shy as him.”

“Haha, you think I don’t get shy?” It’s funny when you think back on how nerve wracking is was to shake his hand for the first time.

But he’s just giving you this knowing look now, a ghost of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“If you do, you hide it well.” You could scream. Can he see right through you? “But seriously. You push him to do well.”

Jaehyun is slow to speak, but even inebriated he’s intentional. Something you’ve learned in just the past few hours about him is that it may take him a while to get his thoughts out, but it’s more than worth it to hear what he has to say.

You hang on to every pause like your life depends on it, eager to hear what comes out of his mouth next.

“Before you guys worked together, he was a lot more… reserved. And passive? Like, he’s good at everything he does. We know this. But… he never really sought recognition.”

“You’re right. But he deserves it.”

He nods while he thinks on his next words.

“Yeah. I remember in school he was just happy to pass and be included in things. Never attracted much attention to himself. Never wanted to be in the spotlight. But since working with you, he’s become proud of the work he does. His confidence has grown. He’s louder. Funnier. You pushed him a lot.”

“That’s all him, he works hard-“

“He does, you pushed him though. When he finally started modeling last year all he could do was say how thankful he was for you. How you encouraged him, helped him with headshots. Went shopping with him and made sure he felt good going into auditions. And it took off.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“He… he said that? Really?”

“He did. You’ve been a very good friend to him.”

Blinking away the tears that started to pinprick behind your eyes, you smile at Jaehyun whose own eyes are filled with mirth. Even cross faded, Jaehyun’s words were so sincere and kind.

“Are you crying?”

You sniffle, using your thumbs to collect any tears in the corner of your eyes so not to ruin your makeup.

“I was gonna but I’m okay.”

He laughs that hearty laugh again and ruffles your hair. It’s such a small gesture, but so comfortable. Domestic even. Like you’ve been friends for years. It makes your heart even fuller than it already is and if he keeps it up, it’ll burst before the end of the night.

The alcohol coursing through you is doing nothing but spread this warmth, double time. Happiness feels good coursing through you.

“Let’s get some water, yeah?” He cocks his head toward the fridge. “Doyoung brought some sparkling water.”

You begin to follow him as he takes a few steps backwards. “What flavor?”

“We have…” He starts, opening the door to the fridge. “I can barely see. Wow.”

“Move, I’ll look.”

You hip check him out of the way, and hear someone come into the kitchen behind you.

“I’m no better, but this looks like ginger peach. And calamansi.”

“Pass me a calamansi, please? You want a sparkling water, Taeyong?”

“Do you think it’s a good mixer for gin?” He asks, loud enough for someone in the living room to hear.

Then, that someone yells out: “Another round of shots?”

Laughing, you hand Jaehyun his sparkling water, and pass a ginger and peach flavored water to Taeyong. “Let’s find out, yeah?”

More cheering is heard as you shuffle back into the living room and let Doyoung pour the next round of shots.

He’s a sweetheart and pours the shots right into you and Taeyongs cans, Jaehyun sneakily placing a sealed water bottle next to your foot.

It’s well into the night, the hour a single digit when the party starts to die down.

Jungwoo is in the loveseat for one and a half, your friend snuggled into his side.

You’ve found yourself back on the couch with Jaehyuns head resting on your shoulder and one of his legs swung over Taeyongs. Miraculously, Donghyuck has found a way to lay across you all comfortably.

“I’m going to order a ride home for us soon,” your friend says through a yawn. Donghyuck is already whining, earning some light smacks from the older boys under him.

“We’re so comfy, why would you want to mess up our cuddle pile?

“I’m not cuddling, I’m being leaned on,” you tease, grinning down at Jaehyun who can barely hold his eyes open. He’s trying his best to focus on one of your faces because he sees three, but he’s not complaining.

“Hm… my bad.” He moves to sit up, but Donghyuck just nestles into him even further, and Jaehyun can’t seem to muster up enough strength to (care) knock him into the floor. “I really… I really did try.”

Jaehyun has hit peak silly hours. From little hums and cute noises to the worst dad jokes you’ve heard in a while, you understand what Donghyuck meant earlier. Jaemin and Jungwoo even got him to cutely pose for drunk selfies earlier.

Laughing through your nose, you use the hand that’s free to reach around and pat his cheek affectionately. In this state he instinctually leans into your touch, humming in approval. You have to fight the urge to squeeze his cheeks. “Jae you gonna be alright?”

“I told you she was going to have to take care of you!” At that, he and Taeyong had enough and pushed him into the floor. He lets out a squawk as his body hits the ground with a light thud. “Fuck. It’s comfier down here anyway.”

Jungwoo slowly stands up, helping your friend to her feet. “So Donghyuck is sleeping here, literally right there. No blanket. I don’t want to see you using something weird as a replacement either.”

While the boys still present start to bicker some more, Jaehyun taps your knee to get your attention.

“I’ll be okay. Just got a little carried away.”

“You’re okay. Let’s get you to bed then?”

His eyes open a little wider, mouth parting to say something. You wait.

“Are you staying over?”

“No I’m going home tonight.”

He pouts, and it almost sends you to another dimension.

“Aw don’t make that face, I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay. Good.”

You call to Taeyong, who really isn’t that much better, but he does help you get Jaehyun off the couch and down the hall to his bedroom.

You let Taeyong handle the hard part of getting him out of his jeans and under the covers, heading to the kitchen to fill a glass of water. “Jungwoo, you have any painkiller?”

“In that drawer by the stove.” He stands beside you in the kitchen. “For Jae?”

“Yeah. You want any water?”

“Nah I was good tonight. I’ll be okay.” He purses his lips. “You’re sweet for that. Taking care of him.”

“I’m not doing anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know… exactly what I mean.” You shake your head and walk to Jaehyun’s room, entering while Taeyong exits.

“He’s decent, just whiny.”

“Thank you, I’ll just leave this for him then.”

You approach the side of the bed where he’s sprawled out, eyes barely open but you can see them following you even in the dark.

“Brought you some water. And some painkiller. Take it when you can, yeah?”

“Hm. Tell Jungwoo to give Hyuck a blanket.”

You chuckle and ruffle his hair before moving to leave.

“Have a good night, Jaehyun.”

“Hmm…”

unknown number: hey it’s jaehyun

unknown number: jungwoo gave me your number. thanks for coming yesterday. don’t be a stranger!

[theywantedplayer]

Master list

PromptList

AN-this is longer than what I usually do I hope yall fuck with it since I haven't been writing lots bc I got exams in 2 weeks fm

You started noticing Nico acting differently—not just on the ice but also when it was just the two of you at home. He always had a nurturing attitude, which his teammates liked to tease him about by calling him "Mother Nico." He was always a caring and intuitive guy, picking up around the apartment even though you knew he had a stressful schedule during the NHL season.

He handled it all well, balancing everything quite skillfully. You’d often hear stories from your friends who were dating other players on the team about how their boyfriends always prioritized hockey, but Nico wasn’t like that.

Then, around the winter months, things started to change. He seemed slower, quieter, and less talkative like a dark cloud constantly hung over him. The Devils weren’t performing as well in the standings as usual, and Nico took it personally as the captain. He acted like the team’s struggles were entirely his fault, carrying the weight of it on his shoulders.

Nico had always been your rock. He let you talk to him about anything that was bothering you, offering a listening ear and unwavering support. But as the winter months set in, you started to realize that the dynamic only seemed to go one way. You could sense something was troubling him, but he never opened up about it.

Little things began to slip. He forgot whose turn it was to make dinner, skipped doing the laundry, or left the dishes undone—things he’d always been on top of. At first, you didn’t mind picking up the extra load, understanding how stressful the season must have been for him. But as October came, you decided it was time to bring it up. You never expected his reaction.

"I’ve noticed you’ve been off, and I’m worried about you," you finally said, folding laundry on the dining room table. Your voice was calm but firm, wanting to make your concern seen.

"What makes you say that?" he replied, his gaze fixed on the TV.

Your eyes flickered between him and the screen. He was watching SportsCenter, listening to reporters make critical and unsupportive remarks about the Devils' performance. It was clear their words had struck a nerve

“Well, you haven’t been picking up around the house lately, and you’ve just been quieter. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” you said as you folded his t-shirts.

Truthfully, you didn’t mind picking up more around the house. You’d always told Nico he didn’t need to do as much as he did, but he always insisted. Still, as you tried to talk to him, it felt like walking on landmines. He was so quiet, and you were afraid he might explode at any moment.

“Seriously?” he said coldly, finally turning his head toward you.

“You know I don’t have a problem with you not doing housework. You just haven’t been yourself lately,” you said, trying to keep your tone gentle. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“If you don’t have a fucking problem with it, then why are you bringing it up?” he snapped, his tone ice-cold.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. You could feel where this conversation was headed. Setting down the hoodie you’d been folding, you rested your hands on the table and turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable, and that familiar resting bitch face of his—the one that intimidated people who didn’t know him—made you hesitate for just a moment. You knew it wasn’t truly who Nico was, but even now, it unsettled you just a little. Seeing someone who was always the sweetest and more caring one in the room suddenly has the face of one who at first glance didn't seem like it was a shock, but you always knew your boyfriend and knew that wasn't true.

“Nico, I’m not trying to start anything,” you said softly. “I just know something’s wrong, and you won’t even fucking talk to me about it.” you regretted the swear as soon as it left your mouth knowing it seemed like a push to him.

“Because I don’t need to,” he stated flatly.

You sighed again, frustration and worry bubbling inside you. Nico was the guy who always told everyone else they could talk to him, but he never talked to anyone about his stuff even rarely at times with you.

“Well, I think you do,” you said, your voice firmer this time as you locked eyes with him. You weren’t trying to start a fight, but you couldn’t let this slide. “I think talking about it would really help. You’ve been so quick to anger lately, so quiet, and I’m worried about you. You can talk to me. Why do you feel like you can’t?”

You noticed the slight clench of his jaw before he responded. “I have a lot of shit going on. I’m sorry if I’m not picking up around the house anymore. Just leave it alone,” he said, his tone laced with annoyance. “Just leave me alone.”

With that, he turned his body and full attention back to the TV. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he turned up the volume at the same time. Whether it was intentional or not, it sent a clear message: he wasn’t continuing this conversation. And as much as you knew it needed to happen, you didn’t have the energy to force it either.

About a month later, near the end of November, you could tell things had only gotten worse. The Devils were in the middle of a six-game losing streak, and it was eating at Nico. The frustration came to a head after a particularly brutal loss—shut out by Vegas, 5–0.

The walk back to the car was painfully silent. The only words Nico said as he handed you the keys were, “You drive.”

You nodded wordlessly, slipping into the driver’s seat and starting the car. The drive home, which should’ve been 20 minutes, stretched to nearly 45 because of post-game traffic. Normally, after a tough game like this, Nico would vent to you—sharing ideas for new plays or strategies to motivate the team. But tonight, he sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the sea of brake lights in front of you.

At every red light, you glanced over at him, silently checking in. He didn’t say a word, but you could see the storm brewing in his mind. This wasn’t just a bad game or a bad week; it was months of mounting pressure. He wasn’t himself anymore, and you knew he was close to breaking.

When you finally pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building, you turned off the car and opened your door. “Come on, Nic, let’s just go to bed,” you said gently, stepping out.

You expected to hear the passenger door open, but instead, there was silence. Turning back, you saw him still sitting there, unmoving. His hand hadn’t even reached for the door handle. It was like he hadn’t even heard you.

You walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, crouching down slightly to meet his eye line. “Nico,” you said softly, your voice laced with concern. “Let’s go inside.”

You could see it—the weight of everything he’d been bottling up for months. The pressure, the expectations, the emotions he refused to show. He was on the verge of breaking, and you just wanted to help him before he shattered completely.

He was too prideful.

But still, you were met with silence. You reached out and softly grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. You tried to pull him out of the car, but he pulled his hand back, holding yours tightly in both of his. He stared down at your hands, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. You sat there, unsure of what to say, just trying to comfort him in the smallest way possible. In two years of dating, you’d only ever seen Nico shut down like this once before—after the Devils' playoff run in 2023.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “What the fuck is going on?”

You couldn’t tell if he was talking to you, to himself, or to no one at all. His voice wavered, trying to hide the emotion threatening to break through. It pained you—he’d seen you cry countless times, about everything from stress to happiness, but he still couldn’t bring himself to let you see him like this.

“I know it’s tough,” you said softly, squeezing his hand again.

“It’s more than just fucking tough,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “We’ve been playing like shit, and there’s nothing I can do. The reporters are tearing us apart, and I have no idea how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix them. I don’t know what the fuck to do!”

His voice cracked, but he kept going, the dam finally breaking.

“In the locker room, on the ice—everyone looks at me like I have all the answers. Like I’m supposed to solve all our fucking problems. But I don’t. What kind of captain can’t even fix his team?”

“It’s not your job to fix your team,” you said plainly, your voice steady.

For the first time since the game, he looked up at you, and your heart broke at the sight. His big brown eyes glistened, tears pooling just at the edge, threatening to spill over.

“I’m the captain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking. “It is my job. It’s my responsibility to keep the team together, to make sure we don’t fall into shit like this.” His eyebrows knitted together in frustration, and he shook his head, as if rejecting your words outright.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” you said gently. “You’ve been doing that for years.”

“Pressure?” he scoffed bitterly. “If it’s not me putting it on, it’s everyone else.”

Your expression softened, and you brought your other hand up to run your fingers through his damp hair. “If you’re the one putting it on yourself, then you can also take it off,” you said quietly. “I’m right here, Nico. I’ve been telling you that since the day we met. If you’re feeling anything—everything—you can talk to me.”

He shook his head again, looking up at you with so much guilt it made your chest ache. “I can’t do that to you. You’ve got enough going on with school and exams. I can’t be one more thing.”

“That’s bullshit,” you said, sighing. “I love you. Nothing is more important to me than you. Keeping all this bottled up is only making it worse, Nico. You need to let it out. Talk to me.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but his eyes softened as you wiped away a single tear that slipped down his cheek.

“But I’m the captain. People are supposed to look up to me and lean on me. It’s my job to take care of everyone else,” he said weakly.

“Yeah, and it’s my job to take care of you,” you said firmly. “I knew what I was signing up for when we got together. Dating a pro athlete comes with challenges that most people don’t face, and I knew it’d be hard sometimes. But Nico, you make it so easy to love you. The only thing that makes this hard is that you don’t talk to me when you’re struggling. I want to be your rock, too. I want you to come to me, vent for hours if you need to, cry if you need to. I just want to help you.”

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, and his voice cracked as he said, “I feel like I have to hold it together all the time. Half the time, I’m not. If we’re losing, I feel like it’s my fault. If I can’t lead us to a win, what kind of captain does that make me?”

“You’re playing fucking hockey, Nico,” you said bluntly. “You’ve been doing this your whole life. You know what you’re doing, and you know what your team needs. But it’s not your job to fix everything. They’re grown men with their own shit going on. The best thing you can do is be there for them, support them. But you can’t carry the whole team on your back.”

A bitter laugh left his lips. “Everyone thinks we’re a shit team right now. We’re getting blown out almost every game.”

You smiled softly, glad to see the tension beginning to leave his shoulders as he let everything out. “Don’t you think Quinn felt like that, too?” you asked.

His brows furrowed in surprise at the mention of his friend's brother.

“He’s captain of the Canucks. They were a mess for years but look at them now. They’ve turned it around. People respect them because they fought through it. You will, too. You’re not the only one who’s ever felt like this. Why don't you try and talk to him about this, Quinn's a really helpful guy he's helping me so much, growing up he was the first person I'd go to"

Nico knew your history with the Hughes you guys grew up together and spent nights at the lake house together, even though Nico didn't know Quinn as well as he knew his energetic little brother, Jack,  he could tell from the few times that they've met that he was a great guy to go to for advice.  He honestly really liked Quinn,  one time during the summer during the off-season the Hughes family invited you and Nico to spend a couple weeks at the lake house with the original group. Being Cole, Trevor the Hughes brothers, and some other buddies from Michigan, Nico was a little nervous about going since he only really knew Jack, Luke and You but Quinn and Nico honestly gravitated towards each other and got along quite well, he introduced Nico to the rest of the group and everyone hit it off from there on.

and during one of those nights at the lake house he and the eldest brother were sitting out by the fire when everyone was inside they ended up having generally deep talk and confided in each other about being captains of a team at a very young age. At the time Nico barely knew Quinn this was really the first time he was actually able to sit down and fully get to know the young defenseman but still he talked to him knowing they shared the same worries and since then they've always kept in contact.

Everyone always loved it when New Jersey played Vancouver because they called it the "Hughe's Bowl" since the three brothers were playing on the same ice against each other for the first time in a long time. Nico always looked forward to that since usually after those games if Vancouver wasn't heading back that night Nico and the three brothers would go out and always get a beer together. 

 Nico could slightly feel his face heat up with embarrassment. not about opening up but about not doing it sooner.  he loved you and he knew you always wanted the best for him so he just felt stupid for not realizing that sooner and trusting someone with his problems but it wasn't just somebody it was you 

He was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a deep laugh. You blinked in surprise at the sudden shift, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m an idiot,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve been sitting on this for months, and after less than ten minutes of talking to you, I already feel better. No wonder you were pushing me to open up.”

You laughed with him, relief washing over you as he climbed out of the car and pulled you into a tight hug. He buried his face in your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your skin, holding you close.

You hugged him just as tightly, feeling the warmth radiating from his body after the game. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Nico. And I need you to know you can always talk to me about anything.”

He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his own still glistening but now softer. He just saw you prove that too. him but he really needed to hear you say it. He kissed you gently, then rested his chin on your head, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said with a soft laugh. “I’m fucking tired.”

[maul-of-shame]

Hey, just want to say thank you for your post following the TROP rumors and all. Especially for your paragraphs saying that Haladriels are not the entire audience of TROP 😭 I'm a haladriel/saurondriel and I am feeling so burnt out because loud voices in our shipping ranks are constantly telling us to "produce content non-stop" to "keep the team's eyes" on the ship and I hate that this is draining me of my enjoyment... I'm afraid to talk, comment on their posts, tell them they're wrong for doing this because they are "loud" voices in the shipping ranks and I feel very alone... You post hits the nail on the fact that we, shippers, are not the "entire" audience and that we can relax so thank you so, so much for being level-headed and for making this post 😭😭🙏🙏🙏

A haladriel/saurondriel shipper.

Hey there, thank you so much for reaching out!!

First, let me say how sorry I am that you’re going through this.

Shipping should be a fun, creative outlet where you can explore stories and connections that make you happy—not something that feels like a chore or a high-stakes game to keep a ship “relevant.” It’s incredibly unfair that anyone would put this kind of pressure on you (or any shipper, really).

A quick note before I dive in: This post isn’t about shading anyone’s ship, whether it’s Haladriel, Saurondriel, Elrondriel, or anything else. I’m coming at this as someone who loves fandom and believes we should be able to enjoy our spaces without unnecessary stress or pressure—regardless of what ship we’re sailing on. This is about broader fandom dynamics, not ship wars or personal preferences. So whether you ship Haladriel, Elrondriel, or even something rare like Gil-galad/Sauron (hey, no judgment here), this applies to everyone.

I’m just an Elrondriel (Elrond/Galadriel) shipper sharing observations about fandom dynamics I’ve seen—it’s not tied to any specific ship.

Hot take but, just because some voices are loud doesn’t mean they’re right.

Being the loudest in the room doesn’t make someone the smartest, the kindest, or the most insightful. It just makes them loud—and exhausting, if I’m being honest.

I’m not a Haladriel/Saurondriel shipper, but that doesn’t matter.

Nobody deserves to feel like their fandom experience is being dictated by others, and it breaks my heart that you feel like you can’t even comment or speak up for fear of backlash. Your voice matters, and your enjoyment of your ship matters. Please don’t let the pressure steal that from you.

Shipping isn’t supposed to be a war for visibility—it’s about celebrating the stories and dynamics you love.

And let me just say, the whole idea of shippers being the sole “eyes” on a show is nonsense.

Sorry not sorry.

Like I said in my post, while ships might be a part of the fandom, nobody is the entirety of the audience—not Haladriels, not Saurondriels, not Elrondriels, not anyone.

The team behind The Rings of Power isn’t sitting in a council chamber of Lindon tallying ship content like it’s some sort of fanfiction popularity contest. Trust me, they’re not lurking in the shadows of Mount Doom, whispering, “Which ship reigns supreme?” They’re focused on the bigger picture—crafting a story that weaves together epic arcs, characters, and lore while keeping the show engaging for a global audience.

At the end of the day, what truly sways their decisions isn’t a battle of ships but the cold, hard numbers (Bezos’s precious, if you will). Ratings, viewer retention, and the broad reception of the show will hold more sway than who’s penning the most fanfiction or tweeting the loudest.

It’s the Fellowship of metrics, not a popularity contest in the Prancing Pony.

You know, I think it’s important to note something about the loudest voices pushing these kinds of demands: more often than not, they’re loud because they’re insecure. Truly secure and confident people don’t feel the need to shout their opinions from the rooftops or guilt-trip others into action. The ones making all this noise about "we have to do this," "be active on every platform," "produce endless content," etc., are likely projecting their own fears and anxieties onto everyone else.

And that’s not your burden to carry.

Frankly, this level of seriousness they’re bringing to the table is exhausting—and unnecessary.

We’re talking about a TV show.

Some of these folks are acting like if their ship isn’t front and center, the Eye of Bezos will turn its gaze upon them and smite their content from existence. Spoiler alert besties: it won’t!!

Seriously, these people need to chill out.

They’re treating this like the War of the Last Alliance when, in reality, it’s more like a friendly debate in the Green Dragon over a pint. It’s okay to be passionate, but when you’re marshaling your forces to “produce content non-stop” and acting like Galadriel preparing for a battle against ultimate evil, you might be taking this whole thing a little too far.

The thing is, nobody—and I mean nobody—is sitting there in a dark tower, tallying how much fan art or fic exists for one ship versus another. Amazon isn’t crafting their narrative based on which tag is trending. This isn’t a race to Mount Doom; it’s a TV show meant to entertain, inspire, and occasionally frustrate us.

By all means, love your ship, create content, and engage with others—but maybe let’s leave the doomsday rhetoric and One Ship to Rule Them All vibes in Mordor where they belong.

It's supposed to be a piece of entertainment meant to bring us joy, inspire creativity, and spark meaningful discussions—not a battlefield where everyone has to prove their worth or risk their ship "sinking." The sheer pressure they’re piling on isn’t just unproductive; it’s counterproductive. It’s alienating people like you who just want to enjoy what they love in peace.

And let’s be real: there are so many bigger issues in the world than fandom dynamics. Who has the energy to turn their hobbies into a high-stakes competition? If the energy they’re pouring into pressuring others was instead spent on, I don’t know, actually creating content they enjoy, the fandom would be a much healthier, happier place.

At the end of the day, you don’t owe anyone your time or effort just because they think it’s essential. The pressure to be "active" on every platform or constantly churning out content isn’t sustainable, and it’s not what makes a fandom thrive. What truly matters is passion and genuine engagement, and if that means stepping back to preserve your joy, then that’s 100% valid.

So, don’t let their insecurity or intensity rob you of the enjoyment you deserve. Focus on what makes you happy, and leave the rest to sort itself out.

So take a deep breath. You don’t owe anyone constant content, and you certainly don’t owe anyone your silence. If those loud voices in your ship’s ranks are draining you, it’s okay to step back. Your enjoyment and mental health come first. And if you ever need a break or someone to rant to, my DMs are always open Anon!

You’re not alone in this, even if it feels like it. You that you deserve to enjoy your ships your way—no pressure, no strings attached, no loud voices dictating the terms. Sending you the biggest, warmest hug (and maybe a cup of lembas tea, because we all need it sometimes). 💛

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The nice one

Sometimes Agatha falls into the trap of thinking of Rio as the nice one.

It isn’t even true! She’s feral and weird, growls at people who get too close, gets them chased out of towns by prophesying someone’s death or proudly proclaiming Agatha her lover. But she buys fruit from passing children and listens to people’s woes and is generally a little more friendly to the world than Agatha, who hates to have her time wasted and is often mean for her own amusement.

So sometimes Agatha forgets who she’s traveling with, until they hear a shrill voice screaming for help, a child of 8 or so splashing desperately in a creek alongside the path they’re currently walking. Rio pivots immediately, lopes over and crouches at the edge of water, Agatha a few steps behind.

When Agatha glances down, she finds that the look on Rio’s face can only be described as excited, watching events unfold with parted lips and wide, unblinking eyes. She has her knife in her hand, tip flicking back and forth like a cat’s tail.

“Hey, Rio…” Agatha murmurs, eyes flicking between her lover and the drowning child.

Death doesn’t spare her a glance. That annoys Agatha to a frankly unreasonable degree, she hates when she’s not the center of Rio’s attention. And even she is having trouble simply standing and watching this. No matter what Rio occasionally accuses her of, she isn’t actually heartless.

The spell is easy enough, a quick swirl of her magic and the waters rise, spit the sobbing child on to shore.

Now Rio’s attention is back on her, a frown on her lips, sulking in a very human way, like she’d been deprived of a promised delicacy.

Agatha shrugs innocently. “You can’t really expect me to watch a child drown,” she points out. “That would be monstrous.”

A few feet away, the child, a girl, is still coughing up water. Agatha ignores her entirely.

“Ags, you are a monster. Does it matter that it’s a child?”

“I think it’s supposed to?” Agatha says. She’s heard that somewhere, anyway.

Rio sighs and comes to her feet. “Make it up to me,” she instructs, almost orders and Agatha isn’t sure how to feel about that at all, so she just watches Death glide past on bare feet to crouch next to the half-drowned girl.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

The child nods, trembling. As Agatha watches, mildly incredulous, Rio gently coaxes some information out of her, where she’s from and that she knows the way back home.

“Ags, give her your cloak, she’ll freeze getting back.”

“What? No!” Agatha snaps. She likes this cloak, it looks good on her.

Rio rolls her eyes, but finds one of their blankets, wraps it around the girl, manages to get a smile out of the girl by producing a flower out of thin air and handing it to her before she sends her on her way.

“Okay,” she says, standing up and turning her attention back to Agatha. “Where to next?”

Agatha only stares. “…I don’t understand you at all.”

Rio snorts. “That’s because I’m ineffable.”

“I really don’t think that’s it. What was all that about?”

Rio has moved too close, barely a step away from Agatha. It’s actually comforting, she used to it by now, the continuous presence of Rio in her personal bubble. “All what?”

”Why were you so nice to her?”

Rio shrugs. “She was scared and she’d almost drowned and it didn’t cost me anything. So why not?”

“You wanted her to drown!”

Rio sighs plaintively, leans her weight against Agatha’s side. “I did,” she agrees, a touch wistful. “I always like to watch. But it didn’t happen that way. Someone interfered.” She giggles to herself. “Suddenly Agatha Harkness is bothered by death.”

“I’m bothered by Death all the time,” Agatha murmurs. “…Did you really have to give her the blanket? Now we need another one.”

Rio offers her the smug smile of someone who has been planning this particular bit of innuendo for a while. “I have other suggestions for staying warm.”

Agatha groans loudly. “You know, my sweet, you may be a great and mysterious force of the universe, but your flirting technique could use some serious work.”

Rio frowns, kicks her foot against the dirt. “…I thought it was nice.”

“All I’ll say about it is that it’s good you’re gorgeous,” Agatha says, which makes Death fix her with an icy, unimpressed look, an expression that would terrify most people.

It only pleases Agatha. Annoying people, even (or perhaps especially) her lover, is her favorite pastime. “…Hey, I did say you were gorgeous. Does that get me any points?”

“No, but if you kiss me now, I’ll forget all about it.”

“What a hard choice,” Agatha murmurs, pulling her lover to her, kissing her slow and sweet, one arm around the other’s woman waist. When she finally pulls back, Death, ineffable and endless, is practically melted against her.

“Hey,” Agatha says thoughtfully. “Does this mean I’m the nice one?”

Rio raises her head from where it is buried against Agatha’s shoulder, somehow without engaging most of the required muscles. “…Sure, Agatha. You’re the nice one.”

“I always thought so,” Agatha lies. “Come, m’lady,” she says, taking Death’s hands in hers.

“Where are we going?” Rio asks, though they both know she doesn’t really care.

Agatha flashes her a wicked smile and gets to feel Rio’s hand tighten around hers, eyes widening again with excitement, but this time all of it correctly centered on Agatha. “Well, you did tell me to make it up to you.”

Promises is cute, the apple has Rio buying fruit from a child.

[ohhicas]

i noticed a decrease of LexZex art on twitter in the last couple months (there’s only a handful of artists and i take every crumb i can get haha) so i wandered into the tag and saw so many people dragging the ship, it was disheartening 😔😔 i saw your name mentioned or at least vague tweeted a couple times and i just wanna say even if the antis make online spaces uncomfortable for “bad ship” artists, there are always people supporting your art from the sidelines! don’t let the haters stop you from doing what you love, you’re doing god’s work with this ship! ˚‧º·(′̥̥̥ o ‵̥̥̥)‧º·˚

Hi anon! First up, I know how you feel-- to my knowledge I only know of like two other artists for this ship (both JP; people I'm friendly with) so when one goes missing, it certainly feels like a Void.

As far as people in the tags go; there's a very good reason why I never venture Into the tags, even at the start of my venture into KH. I don't even check my own Username tag because I saw something, once, and went "yknow what, nah". Some people are rancid for just the reason of having a squick towards a pairing with age gap-- despite most of their claims (Zexion being a minor; he's not, by an interview that lists all the Org minus Rox as 20+) (Aeleus being his 'father figure'; he's not. Ienzo has never listed Aeleus as a Father figure, when he lists his parental/mentors [They are listed as AtW, with a mocking commentary about Even's behavior towards him.]) just being headcanon. They spread this like it's canon, and use it as ammo to hurt strangers because they saw something they don't like and threw a fit, like a child being introduced to bitter vegetables. I never understood why they didn't just block, mute, move on. Rather, they'll openly vaguetweet, spread hate, and even screencap and go after users who don't use English as a first language leading to fear and hiding, with "is it safer if I just delete?" worries for their bullying behavior. [<- real situation! I had to speak a friend down from a metaphorical cliff over this!]

This kind of atmosphere does tend to kill a creative drive when someone is just enjoying a Kingdom Hearts fan-ship. I've never personally let these people get to me, but I'll admit I 'fell victim' to drawing for other fandoms and getting kinder commentary and reactions. (That's where I've been! Other fandoms crawled in and took over my mental space since it was kinder to engage in them.) (this also killed my urge to draw for KH at all. Not just the pairing I still love a lot and think of often, but in closed spaces with friends.)

So thank you for this message! It was nice to hear. I don't have any advice for anyone who wants to see more art from artists they love beyond "Support them", even if it's scary. If you support something and want to see more of it, openly support it.

Anyway that's my soapbox adulting for the evening. Thank you for giving me a reason to dust off my shaky skillset for them and draw them again.

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Kris behind the cut; I was offered dealer's choice and picked “mirror mirror”. relevant tags: clonecest, gender play, roleplay, daddy kink (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Fuck, you’re so into this,” he breathes raggedly as he plasters himself down against the other’s back, a little too come-stupid to hold back the break in character, and Match– 

Match– 

Match bites his lip, and keeps his hips tilted up just perfectly for the deepest possible place Kon can get inside him; keeps himself up on the balls of his feet. Kon pictures him in heels. It is very fucking distracting, as a picture, and not in a helpful way. 

“Yeah,” Match mumbles, barely audible, and Kon just about burns alive even before he gets to, “You're my favorite, Daddy.” 

Kon really, really regrets the fact he just came. Even half-Kryptonian stamina isn’t gonna let him keep fucking the bastard right now. 

Though if they’re talking superpowers in sex, well–his TTK really never has let him down. 

Kon wraps his TTK around his dick–concentrates it around his dick, more like–and keeps it a hard and thick pressure inside Match, even as his actual cock tries to soften underneath it. Match makes another hitched little noise, and Kon nuzzles the back of his neck a little clumsily, trying to just–focus. Just get himself back into being Match’s “daddy”, at least for now. 

Or being his special little princess’s daddy. Just, like, however his dick wants to phrase that right now. 

“Please,” Match says, his voice flickering a little hesitant, and Kon drops a soft little kiss behind his ear and slides his hands up his sides; keeps his TTK-wrapped dick deep inside him, even if fucking him with it would probably fucking hurt at this point. It’d be worth it, definitely. 

“You don’t have to ask, sweetheart,” he manages, and mostly gets himself under control. “Already told you I'd let you come on my cock as many times as you wanted, didn't I? Let you keep him warm all night? Let you be the pretty little whore you love being as long as you wanna.” 

Match whimpers. Kon strokes his hands heavier back down his sides and presses down tighter against his back and gets him squirming under them; under him. His dick’s too oversensitive for the way Match clutches up around it, even with his TTK in the way, but he doesn't give a fuck. 

He wonders, suddenly, if that’s part of why Match keeps fucking leaving him so fucking quick. If he can’t–what, goddamn justify sticking around if he’s not getting off for it. 

They’ve got the same powers, after all. The same stamina. And Kon really doesn’t usually need or want to go as many rounds as they always seem to end up going. Really does wish Match would just, like–fucking stay and talk to him a little more often. Or just literally fucking ever, even. 

He doesn’t really know how he feels about the fact he’s regularly fucking somebody who won’t even sit down and eat a pizza or watch shitty reality TV or even sleep with him, sometimes. 

But if maybe Match feels like he has to leave, when he doesn’t have the “right” excuse to stick around anymore . . . 

Kon digs his fingers into Match’s ribs. Match squirms again–clutches up tighter around his dick again–and Kon licks the back of his teeth. 

He rolls his hips again, and Match whimpers again. A quiver goes up his thighs, and Kon presses him down against the top of the dresser and slides his hands down to grip his ass and knead in tight. 

“Daddy,” Match whines half-senselessly, and Kon loops an arm tight around his waist and nuzzles roughly into the crook of his neck and up his throat. Match clutches up even fucking tighter and Kon manages to make what should probably be a groan of overstimulated pain into a dirty grunt and rock his cock in to the root. Match whimpers louder, his ass pressing back pleadingly and fingers gouging the dresser again. 

Kon’s probably just gonna need to, like, fucking destroy the furniture after this, or else people might figure out exactly what kind of superpowers tore up this room and shit might get awkward, Kryptonian-ly speaking. Like, definitely he doesn’t want some rando tabloid reporter or online influencer asking Clark, “hey Superman, someone with your exact build and set of superpowers who kept their face carefully concealed from all the security cameras broke this paid-in-cash motel room somewhere in the Pacific Northwest with a sex marathon with an unknown partner; care to comment?” 

Yeah, definitely not. 

[crownmemes]

Relationship Advice Sentences, Vol. 2

(Sentences for those in need of relationship advice, and those that like to give it. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Do you think I should ask him to marry me?"

"Men are like dogs - they like being stroked, but for God's sake, don't let them hump your leg!"

"There is one infallible method of indicating to a girl that you love her: don't eat any dinner tonight."

"I'm uncomfortable about sex."

"Give and take is the foundation for any working relationship."

"How are you ever going to find your soulmate if you won't go and talk to anyone?"

"It's important to keep eye contact with your date."

"Once he's got whatever he needs, he'll cast you aside."

"Even love has a dark side."

"I love this ship. I have from the first moment I saw it."

"Falling in love is like jumping off a cliff; you just have to believe and let go."

"Soppiness is at the very heart of a successful love letter!"

"Whatever gave you the impression that I was remotely interested in your private life?"

"Yearning won't make it happen."

"You don't have to fall in love at first sight, you know."

"What if he won't forgive me?"

"Can I give you a little advice about women?"

"She's just what you need - someone who can see right through you!"

"The trick is not to think about it."

"Don't let love make you out to be a fool."

"You can love someone and not like them."

"I suppose you're going to suggest I try online dating next?"

"How do you convince someone that you're not cheating on them?"

"Marriages don’t fail because couples get bored. They fail because, while they’re dating, people pretend to be the person they think their partner wants and then, well, there’s only so long you can keep that up."

"You probably don't believe that love at first sight exists, but I assure you, it does."

"Just because you say something to a person doesn't necessarily mean you mean it."

"Men often say that, but they don't mean it."

"This is just you projecting your own intimacy issues on everybody else!"

"They say that you can't love two people, but they're wrong."

"Never underestimate the female of the species. It won't end well."

"All you need to do is love him. You can figure out the rest as you go."

"Just tell her how you feel! If you won't, then I will!"

"All relationships hit speedbumps."

[lady-ashfade]

Mha Characters; Waitress/Waiter Au!!

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo

WARNINGS: Waitress au, cute, I love this job but it sucks, smoking[Bakugo and you]

GENRA: Hcs/Concepts

Izuku Midoriya

He’s the type of co worker to be the helper if you need it, like working twice as hard along side of you. Not the half ass ones. Will sweep so hard and quickly- “Just trying to get us home as soon a possible.”

You honestly are jealous of his people skills, he smiles and it’s like money just appears in his pockets. He barely messes up, and some of the times he is even getting the plates off of the tables you are to busy to get.

“I can’t believe it’s so dead in here,” you whisper as you look around at the empty tables, only one table in the past hour.

“I enjoy it, gives us a break.” Izuku leans on the counter, sighing as he relaxes himself.

you stare at him. he is so pretty, uncanny how one person could be so perfect. You often find yourself messaging him, using random things for excuses to, and when you are paired together it makes the night so much easier.

You blink twice before looking away quickly to not get caught, clearing you throat before make sure everything is straightened and in place. “I didn’t know Superman needed a break.”

Izuku titled his head and opened his eyes, giving you a questionable look, “Superman?”

“You are unstoppable, Izuku. Honestly sometimes I swear you are too good at your job, makes the rest of us look like newbies.” you chuckle and grab the check for the table.

“So you think I’m charming?” He teases with a blush creep on his cheeks.

“Nauseously so,” you walk away with a giggle.

Katsuki Bakugo

You trained him, or at least partially. You have been there since a teen, and he joined when he entered college. He had no people skills, and even though he has grown he still gets prissy with costumers.

You still find yourself pushing him aside and talking to his table, then going up to him and yelling at him. But he makes it up with cleaning, like I mean he can carry so much and it’s so helpful.

Maybe you forget what comes on a meal, he will just walk by and say it, and walks back off. You write a order wrong? “Dumb ass, it doesn’t come with onions” since he knows the kitchen well, you are trying to get him to work back there.

“What the hell was that?” You shout as you push the door open, the cold air hitting you hard. Katsuki is leaning on the hard wall, a cigarette in his hand.

“She was a bitch, who yells at their waiter/ress for things you have no control over?” you groan at his words and glare at him.

“Katsuki, I can handle them. I’ve worked here a lot longer then you. Not only will you get in trouble later, i could also get in trouble. I appreciate you trying to help, but we can’t cuss at costumers.”

“I got it, don’t worry about getting in trouble. I will gladly get fired for cussing her out,”

You slap his shoulder, “I wouldn’t let you get fired, because I’ll miss you too bad.” You smile slightly up at him.

He chuckles deeply and rolls his eyes, “Yelling at me, then tell him you’ll miss me…You’re so confusing sometimes.”

you swipe the cigarette from his hands and take a drag of it, feeling the intoxication and burning, “Not exactly you, more like how much plates you can carry. My own personal bus boy.”

[hrst4yves]

One of the girls

“I just wanna be one of your girls tonight.”

Caitlyn Kirammen X female reader

Disclaimer- smut, cussing, smoking, and drinking some mentions of season 2 act 2 spoilers, and mentioning of prostitution

Extras- inspired by the song ‘One of the girls’ by The Weekend, Lily-Rose Depp and JENNIE

Enjoy :)

The city of Piltover has seen numerous attacks due to someone from the under city. Only the higher ups of the city truly know what is going on leaving the city in complete silence. But you still have to get up everyday at exactly 7 pm to start your day at the club. You obviously didn’t imagine this life for yourself while you were in school but due to the death of your father who kept the family unit afloat your education was forcibly put on hold.

He died young, only at the age of 48. Your mother completely disappeared after his death. Her ghostly figure hovering around the house. Her steps heaving and her head held low. Your father always told you that if something happens to him. You had to be responsible for the family. So now you work late into the night to sustain the life your family once had. You can tell your mom is truly thankful for your sacrifice but doesn’t show it much. She is far more embarrassed by the life you had to chose because she couldn’t get her shit together.

You get out of bed and look at your hands. Trying to see if the fight you were in yesterday is visible. Seeing that it is not you stand and start to get ready for your shift. Picking out an outfit that will hopefully get you enough money to put in the monthly payment for your younger brother’s tuition. Already running late you take some things you need to keep getting ready at work. You walk out of your room and the house is quiet and dark. A pot of stew on the stove waiting to be eaten.

You give your home one last look before leaving and locking the door behind you. The walk to the club is sketchy. Of course it is, this form of work in Piltover is illegal. But for girls like you this is your only option. You walk quietly through the city. Seeing flowers in memory of the council memories that passed away due to the attack. You observe young men slumped over clearly intoxicated crying out for someone.

After many flights of stairs you finally make it to your job. Hearing the music from outside of the building always gets you prepared for what you are about to expiernce. You knock three times rhythmically on the door letting the security know it’s one of the dancers. A tall broad man opens the door for you and gives you a quick glance. “Good afternoon Y/N, loads of people here tonight.” The man says while keeping his eyes straight avoiding eye contact.

You push your way through to get in and chuckle at his statement. “That’s every night.” You sassily reply to him. He shakes his head in disagreement and bends down closer to you. You feel his slow breathing on your neck and twitch slightly. “No, it’s different tonight.” He says ominously. You playfully push him off of you and walk away. ‘Can’t be that different, right?!’

The club is dimly lit and flashes of color appear every so often. You hear all sorts of songs tonight and men whistling at the women dancing sensually on stage. You walk to the back and open the door to the dancer only section where girls are getting ready. “Hey Y/N.” Farrah says while snorting some substance up her nose. Farrah actually introduced you to the club life without her.. you don’t even want to think about it. You smile at her and walk over in a skippy manner. “How is the money tonight?” You ask while giving her a friendly kiss on her head.

She slightly blushes and waves you off. “It’s great. Like really great. Probably best all year in my opinion!” She says excitedly. You walk over to the changing rooms and start changing. Everyday is a theme and tonight it’s ’Under the sea’ kinda stupid in your opinion but whatever. Your outfit is light blue and barely covers anything. You slip on your high heels and start to pick out your songs for tonight. “Y/N! You are on stage right now.” Your boss says while quickly scanning her eyes over her clipboard. “Okay.”

Going on stage is always nerve racking but once you are up there all of the nerves go away. Your music starts playing and you start dancing sultry and smooth. Desperate men throw their money at you that they promised to save. Your body touches the cold pole and sparks your excitement even more. While dancing you see a figure in the back with piercing blue eyes. You stare directly at them. Watching them like your life depends on it.

You try to focus on your dance while still trying to make out who the figure is. ‘Maybe it’s a regular? What no way I would’ve recognized those eyes. Hmm their hair seems kinda long, maybe it’s a woman?’

You hear men whooping and hollering over your and seeing men slouched over at the bar with an empty drink besides them. It’s usually never women in these kinds of places. With this conclusion you start to feel more into the music than ever. Squatting slowly down the pole and pressing your pelvic era near it slowly. You start to slowly walk around the pole and rolling your body. You keep eye contact with those blue eyes. You guide your hands down your body and bring it back up to suck on your fingers.

This movement always makes the men in here holler for whatever reasons. The figure starts to smirk slowly which gives you all kinds of excitement. Your song ends and the men start to stand up and clap and throw money at you. You wink at them and start picking it up slowly while mouthing ‘thank you’. You step off stage money in hand and go to the dancer section only to get ready for private rooms. “Great job Y/N! You already have a customer wanting a private room with you.” your boss says while taking an inhale from her cigarette. “Okay, let me get ready then.” You tell her while putting your money in a bag saving it to count for later. You retouch your makeup, and fix your hair a bit before walking out to the private rooms.

“Hey Y/N.” A man says while putting down his glass. It’s Harlow he’s always in here. His shaggy hair covers his deep eye bags and his forehead wrinkles. “Hey, sorry can’t talk right now private room!” you say quickly trying to avoid a conversation. He’s a nice man but he’s very pushy and if you don’t stop him. He will take up your whole shift talking about himself. “Of course baby. After him it’s my turn.” He says while attempting to wink at you but actually just closes both of his eyes. You give him a wave and keep walking.

‘Him, huh? Damn I wanted it to be ocean eyes.’ You think to yourself before opening the deep red curtain to the private room. “Hello..?” You say while entering. Before even being able to finish your sentence you see the person that was smirking at you while dancing. You were right it was a women. Infront of you is a women with her legs spread and slumped down in her chair. Her features are intriguing her teal-blue piercing eyes that shine in the dim lit room. Her long blue hair that she keeps pushing out of her face. She must be nervous. Something about her looks so familiar. “You don’t look like you are supposed to be here.” You say while closing the curtain behind you. You feel her eyes stare at your figure and you suddenly became nervous.

“What does that mean?” She scoffs at your comment. Her voice catches you off guard for a moment. “Love your accent.” You say while walking towards her. She rolls her eyes and looks at you up and down. Inspecting every part of you. “You are fucking gorgeous by the way. Wouldn’t think a face like yours would end up here.” She says to you while stretching her hand out to you. You hesitate for a moment than take it. Her long slender hands are cool to the touch. ‘Wonder what this would feel like up my.. fuck.’

You smile at her. No one has ever called hour gorgeous before. Mostly because people can’t even spell it where. “I didn’t think so either but here we are.” You giggle for a second before straddling her. You really aren’t supposed to get this close to the clients but damn this girl is different. “I don’t even really know what we are supposed to do in here. But I like this a lot already.” The ocean eyed lady says while slowly gliding her hands up and down your body. Some of you is bare due to your outfit so it tingles in a good way.

You give her a quick smirk. You start to move your hip closer to her. Grinding back and forth. She pulls you closer to her and squeezes your ass. “Can I kiss you?” She asks shyly as if you aren’t basically riding her. “Of course.” She grabs your face tightly but also comforting and pulls you into a kiss. Her mouth opening to let your inside. Everything about her is so addicting. The way her tongue slowly enters your mouth.

You slowly moan into her and she takes that as a sign to take off your top. Which is totally against the rules but fuck it. She exposes your breast to the cold air. “So beautiful.” She says before leaning into your chest. She opens her mouth and sucks on your nipples needly. “Fuck..” you mumble while resting your head on your shoulder. You have never been this intimate with someone before and this experience is out of body. She smiles into your chest hearing the sounds that you are producing just from her mouth. She grips your other breast with her free hand squeezing them.

“Damn they are soft.” This comment makes you a bit embarrassed. You start sucking on her neck and run your fingers through her hair. “Hah..” is the only sound you can make just from her sucking on you. She opens her mouth exposing your breast to the cold air and lifts your body up to take off your skirt. “Can I?” She says before sliding her index and ring finger into you. The noises your body makes is fascinating.

You start to moan into her neck. “Come on baby ride my fingers.” She whispers into your ear sending shivers down your spine. You start to adjust your self into her fingers and start to move your hips. “Fuck your tight.” She whispers while pushing more into you. You try to maintain a steady rhythm with your hips like you are on stage but this is just so different. Her long slender fingers fit so well inside you. She starts to move her fingers in and out of you.

“Ha.. I can’t.” you softly grunt. “Are you about to cum?” You nod and she smirks at you. “Come on baby.” She begs while looking at you. Your body squirms with every slightly movement she makes. “Mmhmm..” is all you can muster out before climaxing. “Good job baby.” She praises you as if she didn’t do all the work. She slowly lifts you up and takes her fingers out slowly. The slimy residue that is left on her fingers is a creamy white color. She stretches apart the two fingers that were just in you and a string of the substance is shown.

She looks at you and starts to put her fingers in her mouth sucking in her cum filled fingers. You can’t even look at her embarrassed from what just happened. She takes her fingers out of her mouth and tilts your head towards her with her thumb and smiles at you. “Beautiful.”

──★ ˙ ̟🐇 !!

HIIII I hoped you liked it!! Bro I’m so terrified to finish arcane that I distracted myself and wrote this instead!! I’m so tempted to write caitvi fic bc I’ve already seen all the videos their little scene it was so hot. Well anyways bye :) until next time!!

Speaking of next time what would yall prefer- Caitvi, Viktor x reader or boxer Vi x reader ? Please tell me <3

[holyblanchett]

i’m like that other anon and i don’t blame anyone who thinks agatha never loved rio and i hate that i can be one of them easy enough sorry!!! i don’t want to, of course i rather believe agatha loved/loves rio, but it was a choice, they wanted the idea that death loved agatha, that she was on her knees for her and they found the time (and somehow marvel ‘let’ them) to make it very clear. heart beats for her, my scar, spent centuries chasing her, lost her fucking mind in the end while asking why doesn’t she want her but agatha? even the almost kiss could be a manipulation to distract her from billy like she said she was doing, looking at rio longingly while flying, rio is hot and how good it is for her ego that death itself loves and wants her, that ‘my love’ without any kind of backstory can be easily a desperate manipulation to save her baby, the kiss their ‘breakup’ when they weren’t even together. even becoming a ghost, the show still made sure that we knew rio hated ghosts so that could be a fuck you to her ex. after everything, rio was devastated with her ‘death’ but wait she became what rio hated ha ha ha

the only thing that is telling me agatah genuine loved rio is jac schaeffer (and im only thinking loved, not even loved) but she said a lot, do I believe everything even when they make no sense and contradict themselves. i think kathryn hahn also said agatha loves rio but it could just be her headcanon who knows, she didn’t get any script saying that for sure. i still love the ship and the fics, and at least there i can believe they love each other

when i think about jac schaeffer saying that there will be other chapters for agathario when she knows it won’t be i just feel mad. maybe there will be a wiccan show, there’s probably even a decent chance but they couldn’t bother with their relationship in agatha’s show, to actually believe that they will give us those ‘chapters’ in a show where she’s billy’s sidekick full of new characters that are connected to billy and with aubrey plaza nowhere near is madness

This tea is piping hot oomfs. It's such a shame that people feel that way. The fact that Rio knew Agatha was manipulating her to distract her from Billy makes me want to to storm marvel HQ. I mentioned earlier that jac even said in an interview that Agatha often uses her body to get what she wants. So it can be hard for people that don't over analyze everything like we do to be kind of confused.

The writers made it very clear there is absolutely no chance of them getting back together. Which i understand but like damn you didn't have to destroy their relationship like that. I would have been more satisfied if they talked and then went their separate ways tbfh.

Everything about how this ship was handled makes me want to crash out as time goes by. But I refuse to let them take anything else from me 😭 back to ao3 I go.

[loveless-in-nowheresville]

-JJBA x reader jealousy headcanons-

Really randomly felt like doing this so-

here!

But yeah jealousy headcanons, self-explanatory I think. Got carried away (as I do) (Bruno oml I had. Much to say. Basically wrote an outline for a fic for him lol)

Characters: Joseph Joestar, Rohan Kishibe, Bruno Bucciarati (randomly much longer than the other ones whoops), Guido Mista, Leone Abbacchio

Warnings: jealous behaviors obviously, mild violence implied, slightly unhealthy relationship with Abbacchio and his low self-esteem, mildly suggestive I guess

-Joseph Joestar: A man who has no right getting jealous, but will anyways. Never a super intense jealousy, I think it would take quite a bit of boldness from another person flirting with you before he gets jealous enough to step in. Though when he does get jealous he’ll play it off really passive-aggressively, with that usual arrogant charm of his. “Oh I’m sorry (he’s not sorry), my date and I (he puts a hand on your hip) were just LEAVING (he gives you a pointed look that asks you to play along), let’s go, DEARIE ( a nickname he uses for you when he’s a bit miffed)” and before you know it you’re being dragged away by a massive British man. It’s a bit embarrassing really…because he Does start fights over you, and he always acts so proud of himself too-

It is kinda funny to see him acting all smug over winning a fight (easily, since he’s huge and muscular and a really good fighter) and then immediately getting dragged off and scolded by you. His sudden shift from that confident and arrogant guy to a nervous and apologetic mess is entertaining to see.

You do think it’s kinda sweet that he cares enough for you to actually get jealous, but you also know it’s kinda just a pride thing for him. He’s always been a man who takes things pretty far, always been a bit wild and untamable…and you liked that about him…but you always knew it would get him in trouble, and usually you were the one picking up after him when he lets his jealousy get the best of him and he ends up causing a scene.

-Rohan Kishibe: Man who fervently denies being jealous but gets jealous easily and all the time. He gives off weird vibes so sometimes people just ask: “is this guy bothering you?” if they don’t recognize him or can’t tell your in a relationship with him and wow does it make him mad. He goes into one of his little rants about how he is your partner and it is completely rude to assume he was bothering you just because he doesn’t coddle you like some other men would their partner. But honestly can anyone be blamed for thinking he was a little sketch? He typically doesn’t talk to you very nicely, and he looks like an odd individual just following you around.

Beyond people, he also gets strangely jealous when you show animals more attention than him. You stopping to pet cats or dogs on your little strolls with him, and he’s just glowering a short distance away. A full on SCOWL. He gets so annoyed when you coo and pet and hug an animal for too long in his presence. Probably because he thinks you prefer the type of love and affection animals can give you over the type he gives you. He knows he’s grouchy and irritable and sometimes struggles to say nice things, so in a way it makes him feel self-conscious. But he thinks that’s stupid, so he doesn’t use his words and instead acts jealous, making petty comments about how ridiculous it is that he must share your affection with animals and he’ll even shoo animals away from the two of you sometimes. You think it’s silly. And you can easily tell what’s going on, no matter how hard he tries to deny it.

-Bruno Bucciarati: (Bruno is so hot when he gets protective oml-) He’s a mature man, and doesn’t often give in completely to his unpleasant feelings and emotions, and jealousy is no exception. You will Not catch this man embarrassing himself by causing a fuss over something small. Someone flirting with you at the bar and even buying you a drink? Not a big deal. He trusts you, and he knows your heart belongs with him and he would never want to be one of those jealous lovers constantly smothering their partner.

When it does get to the point where he steps in, it’s when someone starts getting too handsy and cozy with you.

You still remember the first time Bruno intervened out of jealousy.

It hadn’t been a big deal at first, some inexperienced guy somehow let his friends convince him to try and talk to you at a restaurant. Bruno had stepped outside for a minute to take a work call, and either this guy hadn’t realized Bruno was your husband, or saw Bruno leaving as the perfect opportunity to swoop in and make his move.

You sip your wine, minding your own business and waiting patiently for your busy man to return, when your peace is rudely interrupted by some guy who thinks he can just come up and talk to you. You can’t help but find it a bit funny…surely this guy just didn’t know who you were? You let him make a fool of himself for a bit.

First there was his pathetic attempts at complimenting you, telling you your eyes were mesmerizing and you were like the sun and-well you didn’t pay much attention for very long, just nodding along with what he said.

You hadn’t noticed Bruno had walked back into the room. He was waiting, watching for a moment, knowing you were eventually going to send that guy away, but at first he thought it was a bit amusing too. Yes, that guy definitely didn’t know you were mafia, and that Bruno was your husband.

When you notice Bruno’s presence, you relax a bit, and this guy who couldn’t take a hint for some reason thought it was because of him and tried to shoot yet another shot.

He dares to invite you to dance with him.

You say you have two left feet.

He insists.

You say no.

This time he laughs and says that you were just being shy, and he reaches down and grasps your wrist and you realize this brat is gonna try and drag you into a dance.

Your attention had been so focused on the stranger, that you hadn’t noticed Bruno getting increasingly irritated at the audacity of your fanboy.

Before you make a move to break free from him, the sound of Bruno’s open palm slamming onto your table immediately focuses your mind on the man you’d much rather be dancing with.

Bruno wasn’t a PDA type of man, with the most he’d usually give you being just some handholding, or your arm wrapped around his, but now-

He had angled himself in such a way that your face was practically pressed into the exposed parts of his chest while he was turned just enough to shoot daggers at the man who had the nerve to try to drag you out of your seat.

You could feel the eyes of the patrons in the restaurant, the ones who knew Bruno watched carefully. They knew it took a lot to get Bruno to cause a scene in a restaurant, and some were morbidly curious to see where it might go, now that he’s finally been pushed there.

It was a moment’s lapse in his usually controlled demeanor, but his eyes remained sharp against the man, who backed up instinctively at Bruno’s interference.

“Mind if I cut in?”

You know Bruno better than anyone, and right now you can hear the irritation in his tone, and you realize this is the first time anyone’s been quite so bold trying to get your attention in front of him.

“Well, I, uh…we were gonna dance…” the guy stammers out. Despite not knowing who Bruno was, he could tell he should feel intimidated right now.

Bruno is already holding his own hand out to you, and when you take it, he helps you to your feet gently, keeping a much closer proximity to you than he usually would.

“You’d better get in line then,” he replies, not hiding the displeasure in his voice, but you can already tell he’s calming down a bit now that he’s got your hand in his.

This guy doesn’t even know what to say, just kinda stands there stammering like a fool while Bruno slides his hand down to your lower back, eliciting a small shiver and gasp from you, very effectively displaying the intimacy of your relationship.

He lifts your left hand up with his right, almost like the two of you were going to dance right there, but you recognized he was very purposefully just emphasizing his wedding ring on your finger.

“Bruno,” you hiss when the man awkwardly scurries off. He really was making a scene and it was embarrassing, despite how much you loved this side of him you rarely got to see.

You can practically see Bruno snap out of it, and he clears his throat and finally untangles himself from you and calls for the check, but he doesn’t apologize for causing a bit of chaos, because he doesn’t regret it.

-Guido Mista: He’s quick to jealousy, and his disposition means his jealousy is gonna be the problem of everyone in his vicinity.

At first it’ll start with intense glares at whoever he’s concerned about, and even you, kinda trying to goad you into telling whoever’s getting too cozy to piss off.

You’ll notice Guido lays on the physical affection very thick to try and leave a message. His hands are on you, practically pulling you into his lap, very intentionally placing his hands in positions to suggest the romantic nature of your relationship.

He whispers in your ear and rubs your shoulders and back and doesn’t even hesitate to badmouth whoever’s bothering him.

He might even start fights, usually never hurting someone too seriously, but not shying away from giving them a scare at least. (The proper way to handle someone making moves on your sweetheart is to inform the offender that you have a firearm.)

You find it embarrassing, but you’re flattered he feels so strongly about you. And you know it comes from a genuine protectiveness, but also a bit of possessiveness, given his unfamiliarity with serious relationships and his anxiety that he might lose you.

A guy who can learn to mellow out a bit as you become more comfortable in your relationship, but he’ll always be a bit fiery, and quick to act, especially when you’re involved.

-Leone Abbacchio: Probably at first bottles up any jealousy he feels. Just add it to the insecurity pile. He already has such low self-esteem.

He feels like he’s not good enough for you…you deserve a man who can actually give you that emotional intelligence and kindness you deserve…honestly you’d be much better off with a guy like Bucciarati than him, and he cannot help but feel that every time he hurts your feelings or makes you frustrated, or even when he swears you seem more relaxed and comfortable around Bruno instead of him. You’re probably just settling for him.

For some reason you’re pursuing a relationship with him, probably for some superficial reason he can’t see yet. Maybe you just liked his body, or you enjoyed how pathetic he was. No matter how much the two of you fought, he would Always come crawling back to you, a desperate man who couldn’t give up the only person who let him into their bed and showed him some genuine compassion, even though he couldn’t fathom why. Jealousy from him translates into irritability, a lot of it internally, mentally tearing himself to shreds for being so pathetic. But also externally, more likely to say something like: “THEN JUST LEAVE,” or “find someone else,” when the two of you have an inevitable argument. And sometimes it’ll result in an unfounded accusation, something like: “I know you’d rather have literally anyone else, but for some reason you think you’re stuck with me.”

It says a LOT more about him than you, but it still hurts your feelings that he might actually believe that.

Of course you want to be with him. He matters so much to you, he just doesn’t let himself see that. But deep down, he knows if you really didn’t want to be with him, there was nothing stopping you from moving on.

You need patience with him, but also firm and honest. He’s Really bad at opening up himself, but if you do it, he’ll try to do the same. Only because it’s fair.

It’ll eventually get through to him how you feel about him, and someday he’ll come to terms with how much he genuinely cares about you, and how he wishes for a future with you.

[scrubbinn]

Mimic Memoirs: Walk with me

HRT month 23

The streets of Hyper city

Picking up Erian from a halloween party

The city lights had long since dimmed. Halloween had passed hours ago, and now Dr. Theodore Hans Erian was walking back home in the empty streets well past four in the morning. His form and general mood would tell anyone that he was completely wasted on alcohol.

A small round car rolled up slowly behind the doctor. Trying to keep pace with the erratic rhythm of a man who clearly had none, even when sober.

“Theo. Buddy.” Mayday called out in a tone that would normally be perceived as irritated, “could have sworn you said you’d wait at THEMS for me to pick you up. Why didn’t you wait?”

Theo shouted back in a boozy breath, “Ms. Maymay! How wonderful to see you here! The night is young. What is on the schedule?”

“The schedule says we’re getting you home, you lousy loon. Seriously, I can’t believe you decided to bring a whole bottle of gin with you to a halloween party. IN A CARE CENTER OF ALL PLACES!!” She said, trying not to wake the whole neighborhood.

Mayday pushed open the car door in the back and dragged Erian into it. She let out a sigh as she confirmed no one was watching and mistaking this for a kidnapping. 

She scowled at him. “Fine, whatever. I am too tired for this. What was your address again? 350 something street. Ugh, forgot it’s like half an hour away. Ok, well, just make sure you’re comfortable. Don’t spill anything in my car, or I’m making you pay for a new one.”

“Well if it makes you feel any more comfortable. It was a travel sized bottle.” He spoke with the certainty that this would make Mayday happier to hear.

Erian began to mutter. “No, not the needles…”

The small round clunky car puttered out onto the empty streets. The lights of the city streamed into the car like flowing water in slow motion. The sounds of the city were barely present with only the hum of the engine to keep the two company. Soon, the street lights grew dimmer as the apartments and offices disappeared. Eventually, the number of street lights were equaled by the number of trees. It had already been 15 minutes before something caught her attention.

She called to him, “Theo? Are you asleep?” 

Erian muttered again “look out Mayday… I'll save the… snore”

An eye peered from the back of her neck. She saw his face smooshed against the car window and completely conked out. Mayday briefly thought about recording this. Her boss, drunk and asleep. Arguably one of the most important people in Hyper city, having a bad dream.

She couldn't help but smile. “Thanks for the save, I owe you one.”

“You have to go now…”

Mayday froze for a second. “I'm sorry, what did you say there boss?”

“...go now, I don't want… look at you.” Erian's mutterings grew fainter, turning into light snores.

Mayday’s grip on the wheel grew tighter. “Mood killer,” she said.

The suburbs of Hyper city were dark. Barely a single light remained on. Anyone from a world that had halloween had already snuffed out their pumpkin's flames. The only motion was the cold winds blowing winter inward. Every so often, it howled off of knot holes and windows. It was oddly calming tonight. The screaming cold winds made it too loud for Mayday to get stuck in her thoughts. It should feel moody and frightening. Instead, it was just peaceful.

“No, no, no, no!!!” Mayday screamed as she rushed out to check the damages.

Suddenly, the car's engine began to sputter. Smoke rose from the hood as the car slowly came to a stop.

He cleared his throat and spoke confidently. “Allow me, Ms. Mulberry. It may have been a long time ago, but I know a thing or two about motor vehicles.

Erian, now awake from the smell and the shouts, tried to get a bearing of his surroundings. He saw the hood pulled up and decided to follow. His assistant, fanning away smoke as she stared in horror, clearly unfamiliar enough with cars to have no idea where to start.

She looks at him with suspicion. “Look I appreciate your help, but I don't trust a drunk to fix my car.” 

“Oh, you can see the damage right here. It looks like you have a gas leak. I know a good temporary fix,” he said as he ignored her. “This will just take…”

He spent the next few minutes attempting to keep his hands steady, holding out a scrap of cloth. Eventually, Mayday had to tie it around the leaky tube herself.

“Ah, perfect. Just another nugget of wisdom for you,” he said. “Now that will hold for a day. Do you have a spare tank?”

“This isn't a minivan, I don't pack spare gas in my car. I'll have to push it to the nearest station.”

“You steer. No offense, but I think you're a little too old for this sort of manual labor,” she smirked.

“I'll help you push Ms. Mulb-waugh!” Erian was cut off as Mayday gently pushed him into the driver seat.

He fought back, “I'll have you know these gray hairs are from stress, not age.” 

Her smug aura grew even more at that comment. Retorting, “That's sad. Guess you can relax in the car seat as you steer. Have fun Dr. Drunk driver.”

“So… How was your party?” He spoke.

The car slowly trotted along the road. Erian stuck inside, keeping the vehicle moving straight ahead. After a time of awkward silence, he rolled down the window.

“After you ignored my warnings and nearly got yourself killed. I warned you about using that book. But no one listens to the trained professionals!” He shouted.

Mayday grunted out each sentence in time with a step. “Eh, it was ok. Met some friends again. We got to chat for a while. They helped clean up. Honestly though. I hate parties. I just needed to be around people. After. You know.”

Mayday made note that Erian doesn't seem to have a filter when under the influence.

“Sorry. You were right. It was a dumb idea. You get one win.” she said.

He turned to look at her with fire in his eyes. “I deserve a hundred. Do you know the effort I put into my life's work?! I'm the best doctor ever! And no bone headed patient or government official is going to take me down!”

Mayday can't help but smile at his own bone headed statements. He's allowed a little bit of pride.

“How do you do it boss?” she asked

He thought about it for a bit before responding. “Well first a witch will find you.”

She blinked. “What? No. I mean, how do you get proactive in a community? I want to know how you make such a big impact on the world. My friends, the people at the party. They're active, they make changes they want to see, they don't run in fear, and they stand and fight. They impact the whole world with a single step forward. I've only gone backwards.”

Erian let out a loud sigh and mumbled to himself, “What a time to start sobering up.”

He gently pressed down on the brake pedal and stepped out of the car. He stared at Mayday for a few seconds, thinking of the words to give her.

At last he spoke, “I'll help push, I know you can steer and push at the same time.”

He took off his lab coat and placed it on Mayday's shoulders. It barely had any effect on the frigid night, but it was a nice gesture regardless, and despite her protests, the extra muscle helped move the car along faster, even if Mayday could tell she was still putting in most of the work.

Mayday couldn’t help but stare at him in confusion. “What fortune cookie did you steal that ridiculous thing from?”

Eventually, the two made it to the gas station, and Mayday started pumping gas into the tank. Erian walked out of the store with a bag of doughnuts and other assortments. The coffee stains in his mustache showed he was fully sober at this point.

“You know what, Ms. Mulberry, I gave some thought to your question. I think you're undervaluing yourself a bit. Often, we hear about the exploits of others and think very little of our own deeds. Sometimes, a simple kind gesture is all you need. Just because you haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean your words haven’t saved others. Small kindnesses are what let your friends do big things.” He spoke with certainty as he handed Mayday a pack of heat pads.

“I’m offering you the sage advice of experience! You should be grateful!” He barked.

“Ah, there’s the Erian I know.”

The sun had started to rise as light reflected off the metal signs of the gas station. Cutting clear blue sky throughout the scenery.

Erian bit into one of his doughnuts and, after some grumbles, decided to reply, “Well if you must know. I learned that sort of thing from all of you. You don’t spend your best years helping a group like yours without having some understanding rub off on you.”

The ground was all Mayday could look at in response to his words. “I’ll… I think I’ll keep what you told me under consideration for now.

He stared longingly into the distance. “Now then, I think I can manage a walk back home from here. Give me a call if anything comes up at the clinic today. I might be asleep, though.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say? You think I’m letting you just take a day off when I spent an hour searching for you to begin with? My car is busted. I deserve the day off. If I don't see you in that building in four hours, I will end you,” she spoke calmly.

Mayday looked at him with a smile across her face, now with a better understanding of her boss.

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Erian smiled as he walked off into the sunrise. And then proceeded to walk faster as Mayday gave chase. Confident that everything would be ok, and that he could lose her in the suburbs eventually.

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