#their friendship just comes so naturally to me

[faebled-stories]

No Strings, No Heart

Kinkvember Day 23: Friends with Benefits

ITZY Lia (Choi Jisu) x Male reader

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then, one night, everything shifted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve broken the rules.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

But you couldn’t say it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

And then one photo stopped you cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But as always, your heart betrayed you.

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

"Yeah, I’ll be there."

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[nhlclover]

PLEASE TAKE ME HOME QUINN HUGHES

pairing: bsf!fem!reader x quinn hughes

summary: after a crushing loss, quinn seeks comfort from you, leading to him finding support and solace in a way he didn't expect.

warnings: quinn being self-critical + kind of being existential, a lil kiss, cuddling

wc: 2.4k

notes: love me some best friends to lovers content!!

Quinn sat in his stall, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, and his head heavy in his hands. The locker room was quiet, almost unbearably so, with only the muted rustling of his teammates shedding their gear, each one lost in their own thoughts. The chill of sweat against his skin, the echoing silence, and the sting of the 7-3 ass whooping they’d just received at the hands of the Oilers gnawed at him. He ran his hands over his face, wishing the exhaustion could just be scrubbed away like a smudge of dirt, but it clung, deeper than fatigue.

Tocchet’s words still hung heavy in the air. His tone wasn’t biting or enraged, just… disappointed. Somehow, that made it worse. The sharpness of anger would’ve been easier to deflect, easier to set aside, but this, this gnawing sense of having let someone down, that was harder to shake. As captain, the weight of each loss bore down on Quinn with a fierce gravity, like an invisible pull he could never fully shrug off. He wore every defeat like an extra layer under his skin, something that followed him home, creeping into the quiet spaces of his life that should have been a refuge.

But tonight, even the thought of his empty apartment was unbearable, the silence there too vast, the dark windows only offering his own tired reflection in return. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts, with the image of his own disappointment staring back at him.

He reached for his phone, thumb hovering uncertainly over your name. He knew he should probably wait until he’d collected himself, until he could find something to say that didn’t carry the weight of the evening’s defeat. But in that moment, the thought of a connection, of hearing from someone who could pull him out of his head, outweighed his hesitation. Before he could overthink it, he pressed send.

Quinn's message was simple, just asking if you were home. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted — to talk, to sit in silence, to have someone tell him that tonight wasn’t the end of the world. He just knew that you’d understand, that you’d get it without him having to explain.

There was a comfort between you and Quinn that had been there almost from the start. As he settled into life with the team, through rookie struggles and the relentless grind of the season, he had a way of just being around that seemed natural, easy. Somehow, even as his responsibilities grew, and the demands of his role pulled him in every direction, he kept finding his way back to you. And you, too, found yourself drawn to his quiet, unassuming strength. He wasn’t loud about it, wasn’t looking for anyone’s approval — just steady and dependable, with a rare kind of sincerity you didn’t encounter often.

And lately, maybe without realizing it, that connection felt like it had deepened into something neither of you had put a name to. Moments hung between you two, ones that felt heavier than friendship but never quite crossed the line into something more. An extra beat in his gaze, the way you’d linger just a bit longer than necessary after a game, the silence between you comfortable and somehow charged all at once.

When your reply came, just a quick “I’m here, come over,” Quinn didn’t waste any time. He left the locker room without the usual goodbyes, without waiting for the sting of his teammates’ sympathetic glances or their vague attempts at consolation. Tonight, he needed to get out of that space, out of his own head, and into a place where things felt real again.

Rogers Arena was quiet as he made his way out, the late-night staff offering tired nods as he passed. The cold night air outside cut through him, biting against his damp skin, but he welcomed the jolt, the way it woke him up a bit. He barely remembered the drive, just that he kept glancing at the clock, willing time to move faster, each stoplight feeling like a barrier between him and something he desperately needed.

Finally, he was standing outside your door, hands stuffed in his pockets, nervous energy buzzing through him. He barely managed a steady knock, his heart feeling oddly tight as he waited. The lock clicked, and when you opened the door, he felt his breath catch.

You stood there in his oversized hoodie, sleeves brushing your fingers, and a pair of sleep boxers. Your hair was pulled into a messy updo, and even though it was just a lounging outfit, you looked effortlessly good. The sight of you felt like a balm against everything heavy he’d been carrying, a reminder of warmth and familiarity that he hadn’t realized he was craving.

“Hey,” you said softly, a gentle smile spreading on your lips as you took him in.

“Hey.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, but he didn’t try to cover it up. There was no point in hiding here. He took a step inside, feeling the warmth of your apartment surround him, smelling faint traces of your perfume mixed with the lingering scent of dinner.

You closed the door behind him, leaning back against it for a moment as you watched him kick off his shoes and shed his jacket. There was a quiet understanding between you, no questions asked, no need for explanations.

Quinn barely made it to the couch before his legs seemed to give out, and he sank down, letting out a long, defeated sigh as he fell back against the cushions. He rubbed his temples, trying to will away the exhaustion, but it clung to him like a second skin. You moved to the kitchen, grabbing the pizza box and setting it on the coffee table in front of him.

“Leftover pizza,” you offered with a smile, lifting the lid to reveal a few slices from earlier that night. “It’s cold, though. I can nuke it for you if you want.”

Quinn raised a hand, a small smile ghosting across his lips as he shook his head. “Nah, it’s better cold,” he replied, reaching forward to grab a slice.

You gave him a mock grimace. “Criminal. Criminal behaviour.”

He chuckled softly, the sound a small relief against the weight he carried. “You are the only person in the world who doesn’t like cold pizza,” he commented, taking a bite without another word, the simple act of eating grounding him a little, offering a comfort he hadn’t realized he needed.

The sudden voice of P.K. Subban echoed through the apartment, ESPN returning from a commercial break. The panel began dissecting their recent loss with a precision that felt almost cruel. Not wanting Quinn to relive the events of the game, you grabbed the remote and quickly hit the mute button, casting a quick look at Quinn, who was staring at the screen. His face was unreadable, a tight mask that betrayed none of the frustration you knew had to be simmering beneath the surface.

“You watched the game?” Quinn asked.

You sat down beside him, folding your legs underneath you. “Of course I did. I watch every game,” you replied, giving him a small smile, hoping he could see that you meant it—that no matter the outcome, you’d be there, watching, supporting.

Quinn looked down at the pizza slice in his hands, the corners of his mouth tugging in what might have been a grateful smile. But it was fleeting, quickly replaced by a frown, as if the memory of the game was sneaking back in, clawing its way into his mind.

Seeing that he was still tense, still haunted by the weight of the night, you knew you had to shift his focus before it consumed him entirely.

“Hey,” you said, nudging his shoulder lightly. “How about we watch something?”

He glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

You thought for a moment, before thinking of a show that you knew would hopefully take his mind off of hockey entirely. You switch the TV to Disney+, scrolling until you find 9-1-1.

Quinn let out a small, amused huff, shaking his head. “9-1-1? Seriously?” he asked. “I’ll never understand how you like these unrealistic shows. You know real emergency response isn’t like that, right?”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Yeah, I know, Captain Serious. But not everything has to be realistic to be entertaining. Just… relax, okay?”

Quinn sighed, finally letting his shoulders loosen a bit as he settled further into the couch. As the show unfolded with its usual chaos — an explosion followed by impossible rescues, and moments of high drama — you saw the tension in Quinn's shoulders slowly ease. Every now and then, he’d shake his head in disbelief or give a low chuckle at some particularly wild scenario, his reactions a mix of amusement and bemusement. You nudged him playfully during one of the more absurd scenes, catching the way the edges of his lips curled up despite himself.

As the episode continued, Quinn seemed to sink further into the couch, the weight of the night slowly lifting as the ridiculous plotlines distracted him. His arm drifted to the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he got more comfortable. You noticed how his head was starting to lean closer, almost unconsciously finding a spot near your shoulder, like he was drawn to that gentle connection.

Instinctively, you reached up, letting your fingers thread through his hair, running gently along his scalp. You felt Quinn still for a moment, almost as if he were surprised by the gesture before leaning into you, his eyes drifting closed as he melted into your touch. The tension from the evening faded with each soft stroke, each gentle sweep of your fingers through his hair.

As the episode played on in muted background chaos, you felt Quinn’s breathing even out, his head settling against your shoulder. He sighed, the sound soft and vulnerable in a way that made you ache for him. You knew he needed this — a moment to be just Quinn, not the captain, not the defender, not the one who had to carry the weight of every win and loss. Just Quinn, here with you, without expectations or demands.

You paused the show, shifting slightly to look at him, and Quinn opened his eyes. He looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and weariness, his blue eyes soft in the dim light of the room.

“You know,” you began quietly, “you played so well tonight. No matter the score, you were incredible.”

His shoulders tensed slightly, and he looked down, his lips pressed into a hard line. “Thanks, but…” He hesitated. “I don’t know. It just feels like… I’m losing it lately. Like every mistake is a reminder that maybe I’m just not good enough to lead us right now.”

You reached over for the remote, muting the TV, focusing fully on him. “Hey.” You tilted his face up toward yours, catching his tired eyes. “I’m a little sick of you being so hard on yourself. You’re so good, Quinn,” you whispered, your hand gently tracing along his jaw before you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his right cheek.

His eyes closed as if the touch eased him, just for a moment.

“And the guys…they respect you more than you know.” You moved to his left cheek, brushing a light kiss there. You could feel the faint stubble, smell the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne.

“And the fans? The fans think the world of you, Quinn,” you murmured. Before you knew it, you’d leaned in to press a quick, soft kiss to his lips, pulling back almost immediately, your eyes wide with a bit of shock at what you’d just done. A flush rose to your cheeks as you took in the shock on Quinn’s face, his eyes wide and lips slightly parted. For a heartbeat, the room was silent, the air heavy with a newfound tension.

But then, without warning, he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a passionate, unguarded kiss. His hand slipped around to the nape of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer. This kiss was different — fierce and sure, a release of all the feelings that had been building between you for so long. The room felt electric, everything else falling away as you lost yourself in him.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads resting together, Quinn’s gaze was soft, yet intense.

“I’ve… I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as if he were afraid to break the spell.

Your heart was pounding, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief swirling in your chest. For a moment, the heaviness of the night, the loss, the disappointment—all of it seemed to dissolve in the warmth between you. In the quiet of your apartment, where it was just the two of you, there were no expectations, no pressure.

Quinn pulled back just enough to study your face, his hand still gently holding the back of your neck. His gaze softened as he took you in like he was memorizing every detail. “Being with you like this…” he trailed off, his words faltering before he managed to smile. “It makes everything feel… less heavy.”

You smiled, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You don’t always have to be strong, Quinn. I want to be here to help carry the weight, too.”

A faint glimmer of relief crossed his face, and he nodded, as though accepting your words for the first time. He let out a deep, steadying breath, his thumb coming to your cheek, sweeping gently across the rouge that had formed. Slowly, he eased back onto the couch, pulling you down with him, your head resting against his chest as his arm wrapped securely around you. Together, you drifted into a peaceful quiet, the weight of the night finally slipping away.

The game, the expectations, and the pressure melted into the background. All that remained was this — an anchor, a place to land, the soft beat of his heart steady under your ear. And for the first time in a long while, Quinn felt lighter, not pulled down by the weight of his own expectations.

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // prologue

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

next

It didn't make sense, the way you and Bakugo worked.

See, for everyone else in his life, he seemed to gravitate towards people opposite his nature.

Take Kirishima, for example–the blonde's best friend and wingman since high school. It was obvious how they clicked. The red heads steady, calming tendencies serving as the anchor to Bakugo's ship, lost in the storm of his brash, reckless ways.

The same could be said about nearly every other person in his life.

All but one.

"Yeah? Try me." He hissed, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed. The telltale scent of burnt caramel had already begun to propagate through the street.

"Dynamight- stop! Don't engage with the villain! Detain without injur–"

"Shut the fuck up, Deku!" Bakugo spat, ripping his comm off and tossing it to the side. "This extra wants to go, so let's go!"

"Hell yeah!" You grinned cockily, appearing at his side.

Where the world served to calm Bakugo Katsuki, you were the opposite. You were the oil, and he the flame. It shouldn't have worked.

But it did.

The world could say what it pleased about the two of you. At the end of the day, it was undeniable that you were an effective pairing on the battlefield.

"Start an agency with me." He demanded that foggy high school day, staring at you with such intensity anyone else would've confused it for a glare.

"Why should I?"

"Who else could keep your dumbass in check?"

You hadn't spoken for a week after that. He had spent those seven days sulking around–temper even shorter than usual, Kirishima tailing him, apologizing on his behalf.

"Because I can't do it without you."

"Sorry?" You asked, looking up snootily. You had heard him–he wasn't exactly a quiet person after all–and he knew it. The small quirk upwards in the corner of your lips gave you away.

Still, he humored you, rolling his eyes. "I can't do it without you." He huffed, louder this time. "I can't start an agency without you by my side."

Two of Japan's up and coming heroes–and boy were they coming in hot. Dynamight and Cordelia. Two wildly talented people on the battlefield, fearsome as they were reckless.

"Congrats, L/n." Kirishima smiled proudly, raising a glass.

You smirked fondly, lifting your own to meet his.

He was here for Bakugo, but it was nice to see him nonetheless. It was odd; despite the individual bonds you both shared with Bakugo, the two of you had never built a close friendship of your own. You simply enjoyed your respective time with the blonde, each holding respect for the other's unique relationship with the hot head.

"Thanks, Kiri." You grinned, taking a sip from your glass.

"To the Dynadelia agency!" A voice shouted over the chatter, a glass seen lifted over the sea of people.

The crowd erupted into noises of approval–hundreds of drinks lifted into the air.

"That's for us." Hot breath tickled the back of your ear.

You scoffed playfully, grinning wildly as you turned to face the voice. "Really? Couldn't tell."

"I'm serious, N/n. That's us. We did it."

You softened. "Yeah. Yeah, Kat. We did."

There was no stopping the two of you after that. The Dynadelia agency quickly rose to the first ranked agency in Japan, fourth in the world, each of you easily securing spots number two and four on the Japanese hero charts.

You didn't spend all your time together. You were both far too chaotic for that. Instead, you often found yourself allied with Deku and Shoto, and he with Redriot.

But when the two of you met on the field, boy were you unstoppable. Each a raging storm, fueling the other as both charged head on into danger.

"And another victory for pro hero Dynamight and the Dynadelia agency. As we hurtle into a dangerous, villain filled world, we thank our heroes for all..."

You hummed as you brewed yourself a pot of coffee, the news playing in the background as it covered your partner's latest tussle with a villain.

The finished mug was warm between your hands as you moved to sit on the couch.

You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to appreciate the slow day. It was warm inside despite the rain that could be heard pelting the floor just outside the window.

There was something so soothing about your cozy apartment on days like these. The plants that hung from the ceilings, the skylights overhead, and the mantle where you had placed old photographs of your high school days.

It was so authentically you.

"Could Cordelia and Dynamight be more than just partners on the battlefield?"

You paused your thoughts to tune back into the news, giggling as you heard the speculation. It was nothing new. The whole civilian and media world assumed the two of you were together–and even amongst those who knew you well, your friends and family all joked about the same.

It was obvious to the world that the two of you liked the other; and had since high school.

Maybe one day you'd settle down together. Retire and raise a family. But for now, you were both far too deep into your careers for anything as serious as that–and you were quite happy being his best friend.

You felt a buzzing in your pocket and set down the cup of warm coffee in your hand. Speak of the devil. You grinned as you answered.

"I just got home. You missing me already?"

"Fuckin' Deku's getting his ass kicked. Shoto too. Get over here."

You could hear sirens blaring in the background as he breathed heavily into the mic. It wasn't every day that someone could take on Japan's top three heroes and live to tell the tale, let alone leave them scrambling for more support.

"Tell them I'm on my way. Are you with them?" You were already up, coffee long since forgotten as you grabbed your costume, comm and phone.

"Shitty hair and I are about to take over while they handle evac."

"Be there in five."

You barely heard his affirmative before he hung up, screaming orders. It wasn't unusual for calls like this to occur, but something felt different about this one. Worse, somehow.

You sprinted out the door, whispering a thank you to the heavens as you stepped into the heavy rain.

The ground lowered away almost immediately, quirk like second nature as the water around you propelled you level with the clouds.

"Cordelia," they called you; heart of the sea.

a/n: been on my mind for a while so why not hehe

taglist: none yet

permanent tags: none yet

[spinchip]

Will any of the fights be different than in canon? ESPECIALLY since Zane and Nya are now competing,,,, do you have any ideas for that? Is the Jay-Cole fight still gonna be a thing, and if so, how will it manifest? (I imagine it would be similar to canon except w/o all the initial fighting. But the lack of Zane in the dungeon completely removes the core of Cole's subplot while he's down there, even if it does eventually become a general "ok lets figure out how to free everyone" thing. I could also see them BOTH being sent down there,, Chen WAS trying to do that when he saw that neither of them were willing to win ("so both of you will lose" etc. etc.)... And the Jay and Cole here are different from canon in that they're much more ride-or-die w/ eachother, so to speak, given that they have no one else.)

Pixal is sort of filling in for Nya's role this season, right? How does everyone react to.. yknow... android (THE WORD NINDROID DOESN'T EXIST IN THIS UNIVERSE EITHER.... our whimsy.... gone....) or does she stay out of sight entirely (or never get her cover blown? Does she even do the disguise thing that Nya does?),,, My main question is, does Zane see her as an android and if so, how does he react...

Karlof is out on the Jade blade section of the tournament so Nya essentially takes his spot on the bracket. i thiiink that makes it evenly balanced since Zane doesn't participate. the Jay-Cole fight still happens (they're both really upset they're fighting each other) but they give it their all and Cole eventually throws the match because of Zane lol. Lloyd wins all his fights 1) because he's genuinely a fantastic ninja and he knows spinjitzu and 2) because most of them will hold back because they're fighting a literal child lol.

Zane never officially competes in the tournament!

SO the boatride to chens island in a day and a half long and then, when the arrive, there's at least three days of downtime before the actual tournament begins. this is where we get a lot of character interactions. Cole and Zane form a fast friendship then, Chen gathers all of the contestants for dinner where Zane openly challenges him and hints he knows more than Chen expects. Chen, threatened by this, makes zane... disappear.

but not before Zane catches on to the fact he's in hot water and literally says to Cole, "Come find me." the morning after that dinner, Chen regretfully announces that Zane has a family emergency and had to take their only boat back to land late last night... so everyone is effectively stranded for at least three days on the island... and zane is no longer competing. Cole realizes something fishy is going on and when he loses to Jay, he looks for Zane down in the dungeon.

Pixal IS filling in for Nyas role and she absolutely does not hide her nature. she monitors chens palace for a while, gathering intel. She ends up being pestered by a falcon that just wont leave her alone >:[ finally, She sneaks into clouses room and steals the spell page during a time when he shouldn't be there fort a while. Clouse catches her in the act and she tries to run but she's caught. Falcon swoops down and tries to grab the spell page but she tries to hide it, suspicious of the bird being under clouses control before Falcon reveals his robotic nature and attacks the members of chens cult surrounding her. reassured he's not clouse or chens pet, she gives him the page before she's captured and he disappears out into the forest around the island.

pixal is brought to the dungeon and thrown in a cell. she breaks out because she's awesome. eventually she finds cole and the others and agrees to help him hunt down Zane which they do!!

i would say everyone is visibly weirded out and freaked out by her android nature, but she doesn't let it bother her. she sees her existence as a point of major pride. Zane doesn't outwardly react to her appearance, seemingly neutral on it.

Pixal, with pride: i am the worlds first android. i am the most advanced technological being on ninjago!

zane, thinking: oh she is going to be very mad

[pealeii]

les mis us tour on november 21, 2024 !!

javert (nick rehberger) said “no 😒” so snootily

the valjean (nick cartell) was INCREDIBLE. his “FLIIIGHT” note in the prologue was an inSANE high belt. and he did it while twirling around?? like WOAH.

the bishop (randy jeter) said “my friend :) you left so early” so gently

the factory girl who fought fantine was genuinely great??? like when she said “sleeping around” she made a little gesture and got all up in her face about it

before fantine died, valjean and her hugged 🥺

the thernadiers were GREAT. we had a panel with the actor of marius (jake david smith) and thernadier (matt crowle) and thernadier said he had a newer take on the character that he described as more of a jester, and you could tell! he really leaned into the physicality. i liked it

when madame did the sign of the cross thernadier just like. flopped his hands vaguely around

stars was fucking incredible. like WHAT. such a stoic javert…and a RICH voice. absolutely gorgeous rendition

javert and gavroche had this little moment after javert cleared everyone away where they just looked at each other like “ok……..respect.”

KYLE ADAMS GRANTAIRE IS BETTER THAN I COULD EVER IMAGINE

during red&black grantaire kissed combeferre on the head and later sat on his lap. he was also just SO CUNTYY. he crossed his legs in the most CUNTY way and just traipsed around and messed around with people and SERVED

when grantaire said “let’s give them a a screwing they’ll never forget” he empasized screwing like “let’s give them a screwing 😏💅 they’ll never forget”

ALSO!!!!! his and gavroche’s friendship was amazing !!!! like they would hug all the time 🥺🥺🥺 they had so many little moments. after grantaire’s verse in drink with me gavroche came over and hugged him on the legss!!! 💔💔😫😫 and when gavroche died (holy shit) grantaire ran over and hugged him and tried to wake him like WTFFF 💥💥💥💥💔💔💔

OKAYYY OH MY GOSH eponine (mya rena hunter) was amazing!!!!!!!! her on my own gave me CHILLS WOAHAHAH SHE WAS INCREDIBLE!!

AND MARIUS AND COSETTE WERE SO SWEET <3333 THEYRE DYNAMIC WAS EVERYTHING. like the cosette (delaney guyer) was SO short it was adorable. also her voice was naturally high and i really enjoyed it

marius was great. when he said “marius pontmercy” in heart full of love he bowed to cosette so goofily 😂

ALSO A LITTLE FALL OF RAIN!!!!!!!!!!! WTF!!! It was done so intimately—marius and eponine were so close to each other in their own corner and the whole stage was dim except a spotlight on them, and they sang so softly to each other it was like you were leaning into this conversation between just the two of them it was 💔💔💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭

also during that song at one point gavroche tried to come over but grantaire pulled him back

and bring him home holy shiT. he started so quiet and gentle, but then his voice just SOARED as he got into it. just WOAH.

also!! when valjean read marius’ letter he stopped at the “well” when marius is writing about how cosette loves him as well. so like “love me as…well 🤨” SOO funny. bc he’s always so *valjean* and serious yknow but that break was so good

JAVERT’S SOLILOQUY. HOLY SHIT. he did my FAV thing of screaming the first two lines which 10000/10💥💥💥💥💥💥 and when he jumped, the set just like UNRAVELED around him (like how he himself was unraveling!!!) and he stayed suspended in midair while being moved back

at the end when valjean dies, he had the same candlesticks that the bishop gave him set up!!

[hryniewiecki]

Grand Arcane S2 review

because I really need it to move on

Remember how I mentioned I could write an entire book about everything that went wrong with this season? Well, this is what a little excerpt from it would look like.

Let's start with a personal note to clarify my relationship with this hell of a piece of media.

S1 was this miracle show that was able to break through the several years of depression and anhedonia and make me interested in something, make me try to get back into making art (or at least try to try), to put myself out there on the internet a bit, to try be a part of something and not ashamed of enjoying it, which I never allowed myself before. Coincidentally, I've been at what I thought then was the worst place in my life when it aired and it helped me a lot to get through it. I didn't even think I would make it to see S2, as thee years felt like forever then. Taking all that into consideration, I think you can already tell where this is going.

I honestly thought I was prepared for S2 not being good, as no show could be this perfect. Turns out I wasn't prepared at all. Act 1 made me very happy, so happy I watched it two times, but the rest is something I would've never watch again and rather forget about.

The characters I wanted to see the most were Warwick (body horror, The Wrath of Zaun haunting the streets - got just a glimpse of that, but it felt like nothing) and Viktor (cyborgs and cyber gore, misunderstood idealist, Blitzcrank - got basically nothing; the idea was kinda there somewhere, but got changed so much it didn't matter at all).

I can't believe they took a godforsaken champion like Viktor and not only ruined his story completely, but also managed to fuck up everything else by all of a sudden making him a center of all of this mess. The center being the arcane/hextech/magic, which never even gets resolved/explained. Still no idea why it got corrupted and what was the nature of it; the void was never taken anywhere despite being heavily hinted - everything was evil because it was, but luckily the magic of friendship saved us!! (I'll get to that)

Speaking of crucial plotlines that weren't taken anywhere.. Basically every character got screwed over and made empty. Let's use Vi for a quick example (may not actually be the best example, but hopefully you'll get what I mean) - when I saw the pit fighter scene released early, I expected to see it have a continuation in the show, but instead it ended up just being the exact same music video, nothing more. And that goes for some more events - they get compressed into music videos that make it all incredibly hollow. Fight scenes are fine like this, sure, but not something that was supposed to be a bit more emotional and serious. Anyway, they successfully made me hate most of the characters. Either hate or just straight up not recognize them, and in a bad way.

Long story short the pacing is awful (it only gets back to normal in ep7, as it resembles the structure of S1) and the writing sucks ass. I can't for the love of god believe it was written alongside S1. There's no way in hell - it's literally all the worst fan theories I've seen come to life and get mixed with fanservice. *puts on a tinfoil hat* Maybe this is the real why they needed an extra year or two, as S2 was initially supposed to be released earlier. No way in hell the same people who wrote S1 and cared so much about the characters would do anything like this. Riot must've gotten heavily involved, making us believe they cut the story short (I think 5 seasons in Piltover/Zaun were planned initially?) for the benefit of it, but all it really was is greed - let's make a bunch of bullshit happen and quickly move to another region to sell more skins for new champions.

Now let's get back to the ending. Man, it really had it all - the nonsense, the multiverse bullshit which basically makes nothing make sense anymore (if there was anything left), the (yes, I'm going to say it, because that's exactly what I felt) cringe and embarrassment. Never seen anything more hollow trying to convince me it was deep and emotional (sums up the whole show perfectly).

How the hell the only thing that was supposed to save Viktor from himself was Jayce telling him he's perfect the way he is? Sure, don't try to cure your illness (that my city caused, but "fortunately" another crucial part of the plot, which is the sister cities conflict, ceased to exist), it makes you beautiful, this is who you are (miserable, unwanted, feeling meaningless and like a burden, dying). I am at loss of words.

Now buckle up jayvik fans. I wasn't a fan of the ship as I'm not a fan of any ships in general, but now I despise it. I wouldn't mind if they actually went on with it, which no, they didn't. We don't want two men kissing (women making out is fine tho, won't make the gamers too angry), so let's play extra safe to make sure it could be explained as any type of other close bond (and that's exactly what Christian Linke does when asked about it). You disgusting cowards, either you show me this in plain sight and I wouldn't give it a second thought, or don't even try bring it up at all (and you can't deny it wasn't implied in S1 with all the Viktor's looks and parallels to Mel).

Where do I even begin? Because I don't think you have any idea on how many levels it actually sucks. If you read it as romantic it's basically telling me that if I was a gay man struggling with my feelings and not being able to confess for years, because I'm convinced I'm unworthy of love as something is inherently wrong with me, then the best I could get after surviving all this (what honestly seems like hell) is a hug, because you're ashamed of me and thus I should be ashamed of who I am till the very end.

Something equally bad is Jayce finding out (or rather we finding out) how wonderful the world could look like if he let go of his beautiful dream, his life's work, and killed himself - it never gets denied, as the corruption of hextech doesn't get explained.

Long story short, if you're struggling with your mental health, trauma issues, disability or any of the problems the characters you related to deal with, this show spits you in the face.

I could go on forever about everything that's wrong (even Jinx got played dirty), but let's finish with the few things I liked: act 1 was promising (it's when I believed they could still make sense of Viktor), fun Sevika's arcade arm fight, the epic fight at the Janna's temple (Woodkid goat), Jayce killing Salo (I felt something) and Jayce's glitchy madness in general, young Vander flashback (felt something), ep7 and Singed's story (the only one that makes any sense).

Other than that the show left me with nothing but void in my heart (I guess that's when it all went). The saddest thing being the masses love it anyway, as it seems they'll watch anything that's colorful enough. And Riot will make lots of money of off it, because in the end they never loose. I'm not denying Fortiche absolutely outdid themselves with the art, it's just heartbreaking nothing else even remotely stands up to it.

[notmorbid]

all-night pharmacy.

dialogue prompts from all-night pharmacy by ruth madievsky.

you're so alive, it's scary.

being a person doesn't come naturally for me.

what's the deal with this place?

you are my best and my worst friend.

are we horrible people?

i like the idea of having someone to come home to.

i can't tell if you're being cruel or if you're just dumb.

these aren't the decisions of a well-adjusted person.

the less you know about my life, the better.

everyone here is a liar and a cheat.

you deserve to have a life of your own.

a person can't be held responsible for what they don't know.

all relationships are transactional.

no one should have that much power over you.

it isn't too late to come back.

you're uninvited from my birthday party.

i love you, but you're such a cunt.

who do you think you are?

forced intimacy makes me lightheaded.

i know you're in there. let me in.

jesus. why do you have a knife?

what happened last night?

it was less embarrassing to pretend i didn't care.

maybe i'm not the mothering type.

i wish i could carry some of this pain for you.

i need a break from feeling so much all the time.

sometimes i can't tell if i'm asleep or awake.

whatever's going on, we'll figure it out.

i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared all the time.

this is the most i can imagine for myself.

if you're not asking yourself 'am i ruining my life?' at least once a day, you're not living at all.

you act like you're over it, but it's okay if you're not.

all my life, i've felt like a dead animal with its skin still on.

it's a virtue to rid yourself of anything that doesn't serve you.

i've never had a day of rest in my life.

i chase after you like a dog, leaving pieces of myself behind, and every time, you act like that's how it's supposed to be.

you don't take me seriously. i'm not a real person to you.

i can't play house anymore.

never say that name in front of me.

to you, other people are always the problem.

you can't reach a mutual understanding without spilling blood.

want to make fifty bucks?

the only way to really see a person is to lose everything you have in common.

you don't think we'll get caught?

our loyalty is to story, not reality.

just don't do anything that could result in a lawsuit or a tmz article, and you're fine.

i don't have the energy to keep up with your antics.

our most beloved delusion was that lying to each other was a kind of love.

speaking our fears aloud won't save us.

one day, the mask slipped. i haven't been able to wear it since.

i try not to think about my life at all.

a junkie can spot another junkie without a flashlight.

your voice reminds me of wool sweaters.

boundaries? i don't know her.

i'm just sick of doing the same goddamn thing every day.

you are obsessed with a projection that will never love you back.

think of me as a spiritually connected friend.

i know liars. you don't strike me as one.

you have iconically poor judgment.

has anyone ever told you about your past lives?

you're capable of tolerating a lot. frankly, more than you should.

friendship can be a slow burn. you don't have to consume it like a drink at last call.

i'll give you a clue. i work for myself.

you make me want to feel things again.

criticism is still a cousin of attention.

you don't have to pretend to like something just because i made it.

i know you crave being told what to do.

you don't have to settle for being a person things happen to.

you have desires. act on them.

bitch, does this look like an intro to philosophy seminar?

i thought i had quit you.

my favorite. how did you know?

i feel like my organs are cannibalizing each other.

how did i get here? that's not a rhetorical question. i'm actually asking.

i can't tell if i believe it, or if i'm making excuses for myself.

sometimes i wonder if it's healthy how much meaning you see in things.

you're always waiting for the universe to hurt you or to love you. usually in that order.

that's how it was in my family. reading the room was a survival skill.

where will all the animals go in the rapture?

a bunch of fuckups under one roof doesn't constitute a family.

my little saint.

time passes more slowly as a sober person.

you'd better not pull away from me now.

there's a russian proverb that goes, 'so much is ruined by saying it aloud'.

you wear your emotions like a name tag.

your resting face frightens me.

how are you both the most innocent and the most experienced person i've ever met?

i need you to just be here with me.

our dead deserve to see you happy.

i like the idea of being marked by you.

i don't know what i saw, but it was more than i wanted.

i know what i saw.

i can't tell which of the memories are real, if any.

i can't believe you're mine.

nobody warned me how terrifying it is to get what you want.

you're cute when you're freaked out.

sex is supposed to be unsettling.

there are things i need to atone for.

you can't go back like it's nothing.

i won't live in service of my dead's vision for me.

___ was a real person. a murder isn't a metaphor.

count five things you can see. four things you can touch. three things you can hear. two things you can smell. one thing you can taste.

banish one god, and you'll end up worshiping another.

i want to be with you, but i don't want to keep feeling like this.

you know everything about me, but you won't let me know you.

you aren't someone i can keep at a distance.

i've been reading about intergenerational curses.

resisting something isn't the same as not wanting it.

anything you say stays between us.

i can't decide if i like you.

most people only possess a third of the empathy they think they have.

will it get easier?

hope is a tricky thing: losing it is bad, but so is having too much.

i don't want the future to come. i have a bad feeling about it.

in cartoons, you don't start falling until you look down.

why are you here? where have you been?

how did you know i'd come looking for you?

you never asked what i was going through. you didn't want to know.

i didn't have the language for what was happening to me.

you were supposed to protect me.

there's a lot i don't remember. a lot i don't want to remember.

i wouldn't have looked for me, either.

we belong to ourselves now.

you know where i am, and i know where you are. maybe that's enough.

when i'm down, vigilante justice makes me feel better.

survival is provisional.

[rise-my-angel]

Can you do reader and theon’s friendship in the your og series first and then the Modern AU?

I thought doing mini headcanon style might be easier, so let's start with main series hotgw:

Because Theon is the captain of your personal guard, he spends a significant amount of time with you. If he isn't on his off time, or dealing with his men, he's with you. So since coming back he and you are together a lot.

Theon is endlessly amused by how little you let anyone touch the baby. Pointing out the maids just want to help but still dismisses them because he can see the look on your face isn't happy about the suggestion they watch the baby for a while so you can relax

Normally, once little Eddard is asleep, you enlist him into helping with whatever youre doing

Normally you're doing a lot of Jons really tedious behind the scenes paper work and you make Theon help you since he's used to this sort of work from when he was Ned Starks ward

A lot of this time is spent bantering. It's the most normal you two feel. You make fun of the dumb letters Jon gets sent, Theon jokes about how boring Jons job really is and then teases you for wanting to do the boring parts. Saying its only because your boring.

He doesn't actively interact with little Eddard, since he knows your sensitive about him, but you like to encourage the baby when hes in your arms to let Theon say hi. He's actually quite good with him, it reminds him of when Rickon was that small and how much he enjoyed that stage.

Its actually now a lot like it used to be. You and Theon are very different people now, but your day to day lives are a lot like when you were both wards under the Starks.

Theon doesn't get involved in a lot of active drama involving you, since much of his life is just ensuring you dont walk out into a snowstorm barefoot and never come back. He has enough to do trying to wrangle you in from doing shit he knows Jon wouldnt want you doing. Which is what you used to do for him, so he wouldn;t get in trouble with Ned. The roles are reversed.

He doesn't want to talk about Yara. She's the sister that abandonded him, and you're the sister he chose himself. And his real sister tried to kill Jon, potentially the baby, and kidnap you to bring you to Euron and despite what else she did afterwards that redeemed her, he doesnt care. She's done too much to him and the people he loves. He doesnt want to talk about her with you, because he wants to keep that part of his life away from you now. Knowing Euron is involved, he wants to keep you as far from the rest of the Greyjoys as possible including her.

He has a very amusing side friendship with Olly and Gendry both, whom really put to test his wit considering how being so lowborn meant they are used to saying what they want.

You two have never discussed Ramsay since Jon executed him. Neither of you discuss how Ramsay would do things to you and make Theon watch, or worse look each other in the eye when it happened. He never brings up the even worse things he knows Ramsay forced you do to, and you never bring up the horrible things Ramsay did to him. It's a silent trauma you both can look at each other and feel, but neither of you want to go back there. Deep down you're both still far too scared to talk about Ramsay again with each other. You both went through so much side by side that no one else can understand and it's terrifying to go back to that.

You have begun asking more and more about Euron though, and thats made Theon worry. That you might be severely underplaying whats been going on with Euron towards you, and that you might also not be telling the whole truth to Jon either. And that also scares him, since he knows as bad as Ramsay was, Euron is worse, and Euron is alive, out there, wants you, and is way smarter and more terrifying then Ramsay ever was.

Their modern!au friendship has a lot less hangups, I promise.

Neither of you ever hated each other. On the other hand, you both were easy friends rather quickly. You both had difficult fathers and distant families, you both were spending much time in the North as outsiders, and you both shared a lot of the same interests.

You both would go out into the wolfswood and see who could climb the highest rock side cliff without any saftey gear, much to the Starks dismay. You were both very competitive with just the other to the point really thats what bonded you.

You never had any brothers, and Theon barley knows his sister, so it was like a match made in hell. You both found siblings in the other and have treated each other like it ever since.

On multiple occasions when you lived five hours away with Karl Tanner, Robb and Jon would have to talk him out of driving up there and beating the shit out of him anytime you'd post something worrying online. Everyone was worried, but Theon felt that big brother instinct to go defend you and drag your ass back to Winterfell.

You both have video games you love to play, but Theon also has a better ability to play them for way longer then you, so sometimes you end up laying on the couch watching him play something like its a movie, and you just talk non stop about whatever.

Theons known Jon was in love with you for way longer then anyone else, save for Ned. He could see it clear as day and would make jokes about you and Jon that you never picked up on were supposed to be hints. Jon would drive you to meet somewhere and be a bit late, and Theon always joked "You two were so busy making out you couldn't be bothered to show up on time?" But you never took the bait because you never realized it was bait.

What he didnt see coming, was you having feelings for Jon back. You are such a closed book about things like that, so every boyfriend has taken him off guard. He hated Karl, he fucking hated Ramsay, but he likes and trusts Jon. Its nice, not having to worry about your boyfriend hurting you for once.

Then Robb starts causing tension between you and him, and himself and Jon. He puts it together just as fast as he did realizing Jon was in love with you. He knows also, your fucking oblivious to it and he'd prefer it stays that way.

He doesn't want the two guys he's grown up like a brother to, to cause issues over you, the girl Theon grew up seeing as a sister to him.

He's been the most normal towards you, not changing the way he talks or acts with you at all, and lately, he can tell that you are more then releived for it. You have a diner you both go to, some hole in the wall place no one but its locals and you two know about. Its a nice getaway when Robb and Jon are tensing up the house.

He drives you out there, you have dinner and somehow the best coffee in existence, and you two do whatever. Go to the wolfswood and rock climb, see a drive in movie and make jokes about what part of the movie youre supposed to start making out during.

Theons the only one right now who treats you like normal, and it's been your lifeline for months. The only one truly keeping you grounded and outside of your own head.

I hope any of these were what you were sort of hoping for!

[tvckerwash]

wash tormenting the reds in the most petty ways possible because he's still pissed off about them hitting him with a car and then blowing him up in s8 is so important to me you don't even understand

[deva-arts]

I have a ladybug in my room that made it in to find shelter for the winter. It's been flitting around on my windowsills, and every once in a while I see it pop up again. It's been here for a few days so I think we're roommates at this point... I wouldn't know, I haven't asked it yet.

Today I placed a droplet of water in front of it. It practically scampered over and has been drinking for the last five minutes. I hope it understands I offer free refills.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Oh ho ho what a highly interesting question, anon👀

(Answered under the cut because it's a bit long)

ㅤ

Before I give my proper answer, allow me to explain a bit of my interpretation of Tails. I actually see him as a sort of naturally jealous person with some innate possessive tendencies who has grown used to curbing these tendencies of his, which he had to do due to a number of factors.

One major reason is due to Sonic himself. To me Sonic has always had a complicated relationship with different kinds of love or attraction (and I do see him as on the aro/ace spectrum). So, when absolute strangers (or those he doesn't particularly like) obsessively pursue him for clear romance/possessive reasons, he tends to react with strong rejection or indifference, in contrast to how he welcomes ego stroking and praise from those who can be merely categorized as "fans" (or those he does particularly like). To me, Tails' initial admiration and pursuit of joining with and becoming like Sonic very well parallels how Amy Rose began to admire and pursue a romantic relationship with Sonic. Even if we consider that Sonic did save Tails that one time from being bullied (according to Sonic Prime and a new animation for Sonic 2 present in Sonic Origins), his pursuit of trying to work together with his hero (which is detailed a bit more in the jp manual for Sonic 2, and includes Tails going so far as to follow after Sonic everywhere and modify Sonic's plane) really isn't any more "normal" than how Amy begins to pursue a romantic relationship with her hero after Sonic saves her from Metal Sonic. The only real differences here were that Amy was explicitly pursuing romance, and that Sonic rejected Amy's advances but eventually took Tails on as his sidekick/little buddy.

This is also not to mention the implications here and there in what we can find of Sonic and Tails' backstory that Sonic would continue to run away and pretend he did not care, while secretly keeping an eye out for Tails.

And beyond that, as one of Sonic’s oldest friends, Tails gets to spend a lot of time around Sonic, and gets to see firsthand how he reacts to romantic prospects, his complicated relationship with "love" as a concept, and is present as Sonic’s group of friends steadily grows.

With all of that, I at least see Tails learning to deal with his innate jealousy and possessiveness so

Sonic doesn’t reject him

Because he doesn't want to keep Sonic from pursuing relationships with others

And for the sake of one's image/being a good person

If Tails has learned that confessing and making his romantic intentions clear could lead to Sonic rejecting him or it ruining their friendship (since he's seen first hand how Sonic has reacted in certain cases to love confessions or overt romantic affection), it makes sense to me that he would try to hold his feelings back (both those that are not squarely platonic and are explicitly romantic and/or sexual). And when it comes to Sonic, there's a guilt factor and an impossibility factor when it comes to keeping him from other people. Not only would Tails feel at least a little bad for restricting him, but Sonic does not respond well to being controlled. Now of course, how he reacts does depend on the time of his life and who it is, but there is nevertheless a futility in trying to control Sonic "I have no master except the wind that blows free" Hedgehog. And finally, my view on both Sonic and Tails, well... I believe that image and visual alignment is a big thing for these two, and that the two are secretly more...in the gray (or at least, that they're surprisingly immoral so to speak). In their origins to me, Tails is just a kid, minding his business, who does not inherently seek to hurt others (though his faith in those around him does matter), and Sonic is just a kid, free as the wind, who doesn't particularly care about being a good guy, but loves the attention. Essentially, though he does save some people on whim, the idea is that Sonic originally fights Robotnik simply because the Doctor, his machines, and his pollution have such a negative effect on his home. So beyond this point, he fights as a hero both out of interest of having his home intact/being alive, and because (simply put) he likes what comes from being considered a hero (all the praise and perks). And so because Sonic is someone that Tails admires, because Sonic has to uphold a baseline image or reputation so he can still be considered a hero/good guy, Tails becomes accustomed to doing the same. That's a bit of an oversimplification (how I see them and why is the subject of a proper essay about that), but the point is that Tails is also conscious that trying to overtly control or manipulate Sonic would not objectively be considered "hero or good guy behavior", especially if it goes too far.

And so with all of that plus the fact that Sonic has never seemingly accepted anyone's romantic inclinations or dated anyone, Tails curbs his natural inclination towards jealousy and possessiveness so he can be content enough to be at Sonic's side. Perhaps there are more friends Sonic is going to get, people he's going to show an interest in, but Tails can put stock in the fact that it's unlikely that Sonic will date anyone. Plus, even if that somehow does happen, Tails is largely fine as long as he's guaranteed to be by Sonic's side no matter what. So as long as he can be with Sonic forever, no matter their relationship, he's as content as can be.

ㅤ

But then Sonic starts dating Nine, right?

And hahaha don't get me wrong here. Tails is pretty practiced. He's not gonna blow up or anything.

But once he gets past the initial shock of that being true, I think he just feels jealous and conflicted by default. I mean, he's just been accepting that there's no hope of ever being in that kind of relationship with Sonic. And not only has someone gone and done it, it's not just anyone.

It's a version of him.

And if a version of himself managed to do it (a version of himself who once lashed out at and fought against Sonic no less), then what does that mean about him? Does it mean that there's something about Nine Sonic likes better? Does it mean that he's had this entire situation wrong? Does it mean he lost his chance and he'd been so afraid for nothing? Does it mean that he could have had that this whole time?

And that's not to mention navigating this. Even if I believe Sonic is very very capable of having multiple best friends or even partners, it's only natural for Tails to get a little afraid of being replaced (especially if he learns that Sonic also considered/considers Nine as a best friend also)

But Tails is the type to not want to burden Sonic with all of this while becoming increasingly more worried. And although he would naturally have a complicated relationship with Nine, I still think he would generally like him and not want to take out his feelings on him. So with that being said, I think he'd sort of try to hold it in and act normal while really not acting all that normal, because though he could hide his feelings better if he wanted to, he still kind of lets it slip because he kind of does want to talk to Sonic about it or let his feelings be known.

I think that whenever Sonic eventually does see that Tails is acting a bit off he'll eventually talk to him about it or try to get him to, but, honestly, even if Sonic could say things (true things) that would make him feel better, I don't think Tails could be as content as he would be if it was idk... Knuckles or Shadow or what have you. Because if it was anyone else, Tails could be more content knowing that his relationship with Sonic is special and that he'll always be by his side, even if he's dating someone else.

But with the fact that the person that Sonic has chosen to date is another version him—a version of him which Sonic has also kind of clearly developed a similar "best friendship" with? I feel that even if Sonic tries to reassure him, Tails will forever be plagued with bitter and jealous feelings. Even if he'd never force Sonic to stop dating anyone, much less force him to date him, I don't think he can even really feel content here unless Sonic chooses to date him also if that makes any sense.

So, yes. That's my answer. Tails would try to be really good about it, but he's still bitter and annoyed and jealous and wondering if he's enough or has been doing something wrong. He's wondering why it couldn't have been him. And he won't be able to just be content at Sonic's side if he can't also be with Sonic. So while I can't say how long it will take, something will have to give eventually. I think at some point in their future, Sonic will have to tackle his specific feelings for Tails and they'll have to talk about their specific relationship, especially if he's dating Nine right in front of him.

[littlest-bugz]

Does anyone else go thru phases where you don’t want to talk to anyone?

Like,,, I love you so much, but I just need to RECOUP. I need my alone time so I don’t have another breakdown.

[jinxofthedesert]

I recently got out of a toxic and unhealthy friendship on here. I had to be the one to end it; hopefully the other party decides to leave it be and not smear my name due to realizing it wasn't healthy and that I had to end it because of it.

Basically, if someone makes you start feeling like shit, from your life, to your goals, passion, and everything else, then it's not a rewarding friendship. And it's hard to sometimes see it in the moment. Because you want to think the best of peeps, especially ones you care about.

But sometimes the healthiest thing for You is to know when to put your foot down and end it, even if it hurts you and them. At the end of the day, you matter and what you're doing matters and no one has the right to make you feel shit for who you are when you're just living your life. Life is hard enough without adding peeps who make you feel that way or question how you live when, prior to them showing up, you were happy with all of it.

To anyone in a relationship or friendship like that, I hope, like me, you are able to take a stand and realize you deserve better.

I knew I was being manipulated but not how much until I talked to others close to me. I pray you all never have to experience such a thing because damn, you know you did the right thing, but feel so fucking guilty at the same time.

But your happiness matters. You matter. Please remember that.

[leylight]

My ex best friend I got in touch again just lightly asked me to go with her to choose her wedding dress. I'm so happy and feel sooo honored 🥰

[seagullcharmer]

the more i think abt my silly crossover fic the more i find issues with it..... like. i just wanted to play with a few characters (ha. ha. there were 12) but i keep struggling with it. i don't have a good fit for a time player. but luka is there. i could shove him in. but then i'd have to rearrange things. and i might just rearrange things anyway! maybe it's different sessions that have to come together like the kids and trolls! maybe the ladybug team is the only one with a decent enough seed to sprout a new universe (being the only group with a space player and a time player) and they have to find a way to get the other sessions together. idk! idk!!!

[oediex]

There's a text in my phone that I've been ignoring. An invitation. Dinner. This weekend. It's been there for four days and I haven't replied. This is not the week for it.

We haven't seen each other in a while, and the message is kind, the reaching out welcome. Friendship is desired. But this is not the week for it.

I like food and I like dinner. They've recently moved and I wouldn't have to go far. I haven't left my house for four days. This is not the week for it.

I figure out the problem. Dinner is overwhelming. It requires looking at someone's face, into their eyes, where too much is going on. A walk will be better. Next week.