#I know he got his memories back but that MOMENT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stylesispunk · 2 days ago

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"Our little mistletoe" day 2/4

no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

summary: You got sick during the week of Christmas. Unable to leave home, Joel brings Christmas to you, and some feelings are confessed.

wc: 6,3>

warnings: just fluff. (Yes, no angst.)

a/n: welcome to the second day of my joel's fic christmas version event. Perhaps, PERHAPS I will add one more day to this mini event. Thank you so much for the love on the day one of this mini event! So glad you lived that one. ♥️♥️ It's funny that at the same time, I'm writing this, I'm sick, but instead of cozy blankets and cold weather, here it's hot. I need Joel to come and save me. I don't know if you're gonna like this one as much as the fic one, i hope you like it though. Happy reading 💌

By this time of the day, you would have been already on Joel’s house, helping him to get everything ready for tonight’s dinner. Setting some last-minute decorations with Sarah that he always had forgot to put on display inside the house.

You weren’t the biggest fan of Christmas or travelling during these holidays, but you always had put a show for him, especially for Sarah since she was a little kid.

And he loved that. He loved it so much.

The way you belonged to his house, the way your skin seemed to glow under the twinkling lights, the smile you grace when he was opening the gift you had delicately chose for him.

Or the way you smelled like sweet pastries

You, just you.

You were his favorite part of the holidays and of life itself. You were woven into every tradition, every memory that mattered. From the moment you stepped into his life, you'd filled spaces he hadn't even known were empty.

Joel watched as you carefully adjusted a wreath over the fireplace, your fingers lingering to straighten the ribbon just so. Sarah had darted into the kitchen to check on the cookies, leaving the two of you in the soft glow of the Christmas tree.

“Think it looks alright?” you asked, turning to him with a smile that knocked the wind out of his chest.

“Looks perfect,” he murmured, but he wasn’t talking about the wreath.

You laughed, shaking your head as if you could brush off his intensity. “You always say that.”

“’Cause it’s always true,” he replied, voice low and warm.

You turned back to the decorations, but Joel kept his eyes on you, taking in the way you fit into this moment as though you were meant to be here all along.

It wasn’t just Christmas. It was you. It had always been you.

Joel’s thoughts came back to the present moment as worry nagged him. He checked on his phone, the last message he had sent you remained there, not even seen.

Joel’s thumb hovered over the screen, his brow furrowing as he stared at the text.

You on your way yet? Sarah's been asking for you.

The read receipt hadn’t popped up, and that alone was enough to set him on edge.

You were never late, especially not for Christmas dinner.

The sound of laughter floated from the kitchen as Sarah shouted something about burnt cookies, but Joel couldn’t focus. His gut twisted with a sense of unease he couldn’t shake. He stood, pacing toward the window, glancing out at the driveway that remained empty.

He checked the time. It wasn’t like you to keep him waiting.

Pulling his coat off the hook, Joel stepped out onto the porch. The cold air bit at his skin, but it didn’t matter. He needed to do something, anything. The world felt too still, too quiet without you in it.

He dialed your number, pacing back and forth as the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then it went to voicemail.

Joel ran a hand down his face, gripping the back of his neck as his heartbeat picked up.

“Where the hell are you?” he muttered under his breath, glancing at his phone again.

Just as he was about to call again, the door behind him creaked open, and Sarah peeked out, a worried look on her face.

“Dad? Everything okay?” she asked.

Joel forced a smile he didn’t feel. “Yeah, sweetheart. Just...waitin’ for her. You know how the roads can get this time of year.”

Joel barely had time to answer Sarah’s question when the sound of tires crunching against cobblestones pulled his attention. He turned toward the driveway to see Tommy’s truck rolling in, headlights cutting through the early winter dusk. Relief warred in his chest.

Tommy stepped out of the truck, shaking off the cold as he made his way to the porch. "Merry Christmas eve, big brother," he called, his usual smirk in place. But it faltered when he got a good look at Joel’s face. "What’s with the long face? Something happened?"

Joel didn’t waste time. “I need you to stay here with Sarah.”

Tommy blinked, confused. “What? Why? Ain’t this the time we’re all supposed to be gathering’ ‘round the tree, singing’ carols or whatever?”

“I think somethin’ might’ve happened,” Joel admitted referring to you, his tone heavy with worry. “She isn’t here yet. Ain’t answerin’ my messages or calls, and that just...ain’t her.”

Tommy’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced by quiet seriousness. “Alright. I’ll stay. Go find her.”

Joel gave him a firm nod, patting his shoulder in thanks before grabbing his keys and heading for his truck. He was halfway down the driveway, his mind already running through the possibilities, car trouble, icy roads, something worse, when his phone buzzed on the seat beside him.

He swerved to a stop, snatching the phone up. It was you.

“Hey,” he answered, his voice sharp with worry. “Where the hell are you? Are you alright?”

There was a long pause on the other end, and then your voice came through, soft and raspy. “I’m so sorry, Joel. I overslept. I think I’m coming down with something.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and concern flooding through him. “Jesus, you scared the hell outta me. You could’ve called sooner.”

“I know,” you murmured, guilt laced in your tone. “I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas eve or worry you. I just...I feel awful.”

Joel’s grip on the phone tightened as he pulled off the road, parking his truck. “Ruin my Christmas eve?” he echoed, his voice softening. “You’re the only part of it I care about.”

There was a pause on your end, and Joel could imagine the way you’d be biting your lip at his words. “I’m sorry, Joel. I really wanted to be there, but I barely can keep myself up.”

“You don’t gotta apologize. You just sit tight, alright?” Joel's voice was firm but gentle, there was a lace of disappointment hanging there, but because of the thought of you spending all this night alone. "I’ll figure it out. Just rest, okay? I’ll check on you later."

You let out a tired sigh, tinged with a hint of guilt. "Okay. Merry Christmas eve, Joel. Tell Sarah I’m sorry."

Joel’s chest tightened at how small your voice sounded, the strength you usually carried replaced by exhaustion. "Merry Christmas eve, darlin’. Just take care of yourself, alright?"

He ended the call, staring at his phone for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. The engine idled quietly as Joel sat there, the glow of his truck’s dashboard lights illuminating his face. You might have been stuck at home, but that didn’t mean you had to spend Christmas Eve alone.

A plan had come up to his mind.

He swung the truck around, heading back toward the house with a sense of purpose. When he pulled into the driveway, Tommy was waiting on the porch, bundled in his coat, a questioning look on his face.

"Everything alright?" Tommy asked as Joel climbed out.

“She’s sick,” Joel said, already heading toward the front door. "Ain’t coming over."

Tommy frowned. "Then why are you back? Givin’ up that easy?"

Joel shot him a pointed look as he stepped inside. "Hell no. We’re taking Christmas to her."

Sarah popped her head out from the kitchen, her face lighting up when she saw her dad. "She’s not coming?"

"Not feelin’ well," Joel explained as he grabbed a couple of boxes of decorations from the living room. "But that don’t mean she’s missin’ out."

Sarah grinned, catching on to his plan. "You mean we’re bringing all this to her place?"

"Damn right we are," Joel said, already sorting through the things he’d need. "Grab the cookies, the rest of the food and some of the lights."

Tommy let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You’re really doin’ this, huh?"

Joel shot him a look that said everything. "All of us, Tommy. Come on”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading as realization dawned. “Wait, me too?

Joel didn’t even pause as he grabbed another box of lights. “You’re comin’. You’re part of this family, ain’t you?”

Tommy smiled, following Joel into the kitchen, where Sarah was already busy wrapping up the food with a determined look on her face. “Fine, but don’t blame me if I eat half those cookies on the way.”

“You do, and you’re walkin’,” Joel shot back, his voice teasing but his pace relentless.

Within minutes, the truck was packed to the brim. Lights, food, decorations, everything that screamed Christmas was crammed into the back. Joel stood by the truck, taking a deep breath, his hands on his hips as he looked over the load.

“Think she’ll like it?” Sarah asked, her smile lighting up her face.

Joel turned to her with a small smile, his tone soft. “She’ll love it, baby girl”

“Alright, let’s go before I change my mind about this,” Tommy muttered, climbing into the passenger seat.

As Tommy settled into the passenger seat, he rummaged through one of the bags he’d grabbed last minute from the house. A sly grin spread across his face as he pulled out a small sprig of mistletoe, holding it up between two fingers.

“Don’t forget about this, big brother,” he said, his tone dripping with mischief as he waved it in Joel’s direction.

Joel glanced over, narrowing his eyes. “What the hell are you doin’ with that?”

Tommy shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Figured you’d want it. Never know when it might come in handy. You will Kiss her tonight, brother”

Joel rolled his eyes, though the heat creeping up his neck betrayed him. “Tommy, don’t start.”

“I’m just sayin’.” Tommy leaned back, twirling the mistletoe like it was some kind of trophy. “You’re doin’ all this for her, haulin’ Christmas across town like some kinda lovesick Santa Claus. Might as well seal the deal.”

“Tommy,” Joel warned, his voice low and pointed. “This ain’t about that.”

“Oh, sure,” Tommy said, his grin widening. “Just about spreadin’ some holiday cheer, huh? Totally normal to pack up half your house for a ‘friend.’” He made air quotes with his fingers, earning a laugh from Sarah in the backseat.

“Uncle Tommy’s got a point, Dad,” Sarah chimed in, her voice light but playful. “I mean, you like her, right? Why not just go for it?”

Joel gripped the wheel a little tighter, his jaw working as he tried to come up with a response that wouldn’t give Tommy and Sarah even more ammunition. “Ain’t the time for that,” he muttered.

Tommy leaned forward, mistletoe still in hand. “Oh, come on, Joel. You’re already playin’ the hero tonight. Don’t tell me you’re gonna chicken out now.”

Joel shot him a glare, but Tommy just laughed. “You’re impossible,” Joel muttered, snatching the mistletoe from his brother’s hand and tossing it onto the dashboard.

“Just keep it handy,” Tommy said with a wink. “You’ll thank me later.”

Joel shook his head, but the teasing didn’t stop the thought from creeping in. The mistletoe sat there, a quiet challenge he wasn’t quite ready to face, as they drove toward your house.

You had just started to drift off, the ache in your head and the warmth of your blankets pulling you under, when a knock at the door jolted you awake. At first, you thought you’d imagined it, but there it was again, a firm, familiar rhythm that made your heart stutter.

Groaning softly, you pushed yourself up, wrapping the blanket tighter around your shoulders as you shuffled toward the door. The pounding in your head didn’t do much to help the confusion swirling in your mind. Who would be here at this hour?

You opened the door a crack, peeking out cautiously, only to have your breath catch in your throat.

Joel stood there, snow dusting his hair and jacket, his arms holding a box full of things that looked suspiciously festive. Behind him, Sarah and Tommy were standing by the truck, each holding their own share of decorations and food.

“Joel?” you croaked, your voice rough from the scratchiness in your throat.

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes sweeping over you with concern. “You look like hell.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, pulling the blanket closer around you. “What’re you doing here?”

“Bringin’ Christmas to you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Joel took the opportunity to step inside, brushing past you gently as he carried a box of decorations toward your living room. Sarah and Tommy followed suit, grinning like conspirators as they set down their own loads of holiday cheer.

“Wait, wait,” you protested, your head spinning as you tried to keep up. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“No,” Joel said, turning to face you, his expression warm but resolute. “But I wanted to. You shouldn’t spend Christmas alone, sick or not.”

Sarah appeared at your side, holding a plate of cookies wrapped in foil. “We made these for you! Well, Dad baked them”

“Did you bake them?” You asked, recieiving the plate from Sarah.

“No, I bought them, really. I made Sarah believe I was baking” he replied, without giving himself credit.

“Such a fake” you said, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, though it quickly turned into a cough. Joel was at your side in an instant, his hand on your back, steadying you.

“C’mon,” he said, guiding you gently toward the couch. “Sit down. Let us take care of this.”

“Joel,” you began, your voice hoarse but filled with emotion, “you really didn’t have to—”

“I did,” he cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes softened as he looked at you, and for a moment, the chaos of the room faded into the background. “You’re part of this, part of us. Always have been. So, yeah, I did.”

You blinked at him, your chest tightening with something that wasn’t just the cold. Before you could respond, Tommy called out from the kitchen.

Before you could say anything, Tommy’s voice broke through the moment, his tone dripping with playful mischief.

“Well, look at this,” he drawled, stepping closer with the infamous sprig of mistletoe in his hand. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’. She looks at you like you’re her Christmas miracle, Joel. Might as well give her a reason to keep starin’.”

Joel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tommy, don’t—”

But Tommy was already moving. With the precision of a man who lived to be a menace, he slipped the mistletoe into the back pocket of Joel’s jeans, patting it smugly as if he’d completed a masterpiece.

“There,” Tommy declared, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Now you’re carryin’ it everywhere, just in case the moment strikes. Plus,” he added with a wink in your direction, “I think someone else here might be on board with this idea.”

Your face burned as the attention shifted to you, and you quickly glanced away, pretending to be fascinated by the pattern on the blanket you’d pulled over your lap.

“Tommy,” Joel growled, his voice a low warning.

“What?” Tommy said, holding his hands up in mock innocence. “I’m just tryin’ to help. I mean, come on, big brother. Don’t act like she ain’t got that same look you’ve been sportin’ for years now.”

“Tommy,” Joel repeated, but there was a faint flush creeping up his neck now.

You managed to peek up at Joel, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. Tommy’s teasing words might’ve been delivered with a smirk, but there was truth buried in them.

Joel caught your gaze, and for a split second, everything else seemed to fade.

“Alright, enough,” Joel said finally, dragging a hand down his face as he shot Tommy a glare. “Don’t you have somethin’ better to do?”

“Not really,” Tommy quipped, sauntering off toward the pile of lights he’d been working on.

As the room filled with Sarah’s chatter and the sound of Christmas music Tommy had turned on, Joel lingered by your side, looking equal parts exasperated and amused.

“Don’t pay him any mind,” he murmured, his voice soft enough that only you could hear. “He’s just talkin’ nonsense.”

But when you glanced down at the faint hint of green peeking from his back pocket, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Tommy wasn’t entirely wrong.

As the evening wore on, the laughter and warmth filling your small home was everything you hadn’t realized you needed. The twinkling lights Joel and Sarah had strung up bathed the room in a soft glow, and the scent of cookies and food mingled with the piney aroma of the small tree Tommy had managed to haul inside.

But as much as you loved the idea of them bringing Christmas to you, the pounding in your head refused to let up. You tried to hide it, smiling and laughing as Sarah excitedly talked about different things, but she was too perceptive for her own good.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked gently, her brows furrowing as she leaned closer to you on the couch.

You waved her off with a weak smile. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Sarah wasn’t convinced. She glanced over at Joel, who was mid-conversation with Tommy about fixing the uneven lights on the tree. “Maybe we should let her rest,” Sarah said softly, her concern evident. “We can go back home. It’s been such a nice night already.”

“No,” you said quickly, sitting up straighter despite the dull ache in your head. “I don’t want you to leave. You’ve already done so much, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you packing everything up after all this effort.”

Joel turned his head at the sound of your voice, his eyes narrowing as he took in your pale complexion. “You sure, darlin’? You look like you could use some quiet.”

“I’m sure,” you insisted, though the words came out weaker than you intended. “You’ve made this place feel like Christmas. Stay. Please.”

Tommy smirked from where he was fiddling with the ornaments. “Guess that settles it. Looks like we’re havin’ a sleepover.”

Sarah’s face lit up. “Really? We can stay?”

You nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “Of course. There’s plenty of room.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flicking between you and Sarah. “Alright, but only if you promise to tell me if you’re feelin’ worse. I mean it.”

You nodded, touched by the concern in his voice.

“Well,” Joel said, clapping his hands together. “If we’re stayin’, how ‘bout a movie? Somethin’ Christmas-y.”

Sarah practically bounced in her seat. “Home Alone!” she suggested immediately.

Tommy groaned. “Haven’t we seen that one a hundred times?”

“Exactly,” Sarah retorted, grinning.

Joel chuckled and looked at you. “What d’you think?”

You leaned back into the couch, grateful for the blanket Sarah had draped over you earlier. “Home Alone sounds perfect.”

Sarah bounced up from the couch, eager to grab snacks and drinks for everyone. As she passed Joel, she flashed him a mischievous smile. "You can sit by her now, dad," she said, her voice teasing. "She's gonna need someone to keep her warm."

Joel gave her a mock glare, but there was a warmth in his eyes as he stood up and made his way toward the couch. He carefully settled beside you, just close enough that you could feel his presence, but not so close that it felt intrusive. He was getting really nervous about your company tonight in a way his heart seemed to explode at the thought of touching you.

“Comfy?” he asked quietly, his eyes scanning your face for any signs that you were still struggling. His hand rested on the couch cushion next to yours, as if he was just waiting for the right moment to reach for you if you needed him.

You smiled faintly, grateful for his care. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice still a bit rough. “Thanks for staying. This... this means a lot.”

He glanced at you, his gaze softening. “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, darlin’.” There was a tenderness in his voice that made your heart flutter despite the headache.

You shifted slightly on the couch, the warmth of his presence comforting, and without thinking, you leaned in closer, resting your head gently on his shoulder. You could feel the muscles in his arm tense slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted just enough to make sure you were comfortable, his warmth enveloping you like a protective blanket.

For a moment, you simply listened to the sounds of the movie and the gentle chatter of Sarah and Tommy, feeling the steady rise and fall of Joel’s breath beneath your ear. The headache was still there, pounding softly in the background, but having Joel so near helped ease the tension in your body, his steady presence grounding you.

Joel’s hand, which had been resting on the cushion beside you, slowly moved. At first, it just hovered near your shoulder, but then, as though asking permission, it settled softly on your arm. His touch was gentle, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly, his voice low, barely louder than the sound of the movie.

You nodded slightly, not trusting yourself to speak. His presence, his warmth, it was exactly what you needed, even if you hadn’t realized it before. You allowed yourself to sink further into him, feeling a small sense of peace settle over you.

Joel’s hand tightened just slightly, not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to remind you that he was there.

I’m here, and I’m not leaving.

The steady rhythm of Joel’s breath, the warmth of his body next to yours, and the gentle hum of the movie in the background all worked together to lull you into a calm, peaceful state. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, the exhaustion from the day and the pounding headache making it harder to stay awake.

As you settled deeper into the couch, Joel’s presence became the anchor that kept you grounded, and before you knew it, you drifted off, your breathing slowing into a relaxed, steady pattern. The last thing you were aware of was the comforting weight of his arm around you, pulling you just a little bit closer, as if he too was holding onto this moment, savoring the peace and quiet that you shared together.

Joel didn’t say anything as you fell asleep. He simply let you rest, his hand lightly stroking your arm as he made sure you were comfortable, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. His heart swelled with a tenderness that made him afraid of his feelings.

As you slept peacefully, nestled against Joel, the soft glow of the Christmas lights cast a warm hue across the room. The only sound was the low hum of the movie playing in the background and the occasional shift of movement from the others.

Tommy, who had been lounging on the armchair, glanced over at the two of you with a smirk. He was doing his best to stifle a laugh, but it was clear he couldn’t resist.

“Well, well,” Tommy teased quietly, “You look adorable together.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to Tommy, a mix of annoyance and something else flickering in his gaze. He could get used to spend every day with you like this. “Shut up, Tommy,” he muttered under his breath, but his tone was far from harsh. He didn’t want to wake you, not when you were so peacefully resting.

Joel shot him a warning look, but the corners of his lips tugged into a smile despite himself. “You’ve got a hell of a way of making things awkward,” he grumbled, but it was clear he wasn’t bothered by the teasing.

Meanwhile, Sarah had curled up on the floor with a blanket, her eyes already fluttering closed. She was tired from the day’s events, her excitement finally catching up to her.

Joel looked down at you again, his hand still lightly resting on your shoulder as if unwilling to move. But then he noticed Sarah, fast asleep on the floor, and a new thought came to him.

“Tommy,” Joel called quietly, nudging his brother once more. “Can you help me get Sarah to the guest room? She’s out cold, and I don’t want her sleepin’ on the floor.”

Tommy, not missing a beat, grinned widely. “I can’t believe you’re getting rid of your daughter to get a girlfriend,” he teased, winking at Joel.

Joel didn’t even respond to that, his attention already on you. “Just help me, damn it,” he muttered, trying to keep the playful teasing to a minimum.

With a sigh, Tommy got up and walked over to Sarah, carefully lifting her and making sure she didn’t stir. Joel remained on the couch, his heart still racing from the tenderness of the moment, silently praying that you wouldn’t wake up just yet.

As Tommy returned to the living room, he gave Joel a quick nod, signaling that Sarah was settled comfortably in the guest room. Joel looked down at you, still asleep on his shoulder, and a deep tenderness washed over him. He wasn’t sure if he could carry you without waking you, but seeing you so peaceful in his arms made him want to do everything he could to keep you safe and comfortable.

He carefully lifted you, one arm gently supporting your back and the other under your knees. His movements were slow and deliberate, trying his best not to disturb you. Your soft, steady breathing was a comfort to him as he began walking toward your bedroom.

Tommy, noticing the situation, gave Joel a teasing grin. “You sure you don’t need help, Joel?”

Joel shot him a look, his usual gruffness softened by the moment. “Just keep it down, alright? Don’t wanna wake her.”

Tommy’s grin only widened, but he stayed quiet, giving Joel the space he needed.

As Joel made his way into your bedroom, he gently lowered you onto the bed, making sure your head was resting comfortably on the pillow. He tucked the blanket around you, his fingers brushing against your skin for a brief moment. It wasn’t much, but the way you looked so peaceful made something inside him stir, and for a second, he just stood there, watching you.

His gaze lingered on your face, tracing the soft curve of your features, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Get some rest, darlin'," he whispered, as if the words could protect you from whatever might come next. "I’m right here."

Joel returned to the living room, his footsteps quiet but deliberate. Tommy, who had been half-leaning on the couch with his feet up, looked up at him with a smirk. Joel wiped a hand across his face, trying to shake off the quiet weight of the night.

“I’ll take the sofa,” Joel said, his voice low. “You can take the other bed in the guest room. It’s all set up.”

Tommy gave him an exaggerated shrug, as if to say he didn’t care where he slept. “Alright, alright. Guess it’s good to be the one on the couch for once.” He stood up and stretched, heading toward the guest room Joel had pointed out. “Night, man.”

“Night, Tommy,” Joel muttered, already turning back toward the bedroom.

Once everything settled down, the house was quiet again, save for the soft sounds of the holiday decorations swaying and the occasional crackle from the fireplace. Joel moved softly, making his way back down the hall to your room, checking the time briefly as he walked. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to be near you, even if you were sleeping.

When he pushed open the door to your room, expecting to see you still sleeping peacefully, his heart stuttered in his chest. There you were, awake, your eyes wide, watching him from the bed. The soft light of the bedside lamp illuminated your face, casting a warm glow over your features.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, just taking in the presence of the other.

"Hey," Joel said quietly, leaning against the doorframe, his voice hoarse, like he was still trying to process the night.

You offered him a tired smile, but there was something else there too, an understanding, something deeper that only the two of you seemed to share “How did I get here?” you asked.

Joel stepped closer, his eyes softening. “I carried you to bed.” he confessed, his voice gentle. His gaze dropped to the bed, the warmth of your presence drawing him in. “You feeling better?”

You nodded slightly, even though you knew you weren’t completely alright. But there was something about having Joel near you that made you feel just a little more at ease.

“I’m alright now," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But you should get some rest too. You’ve done more than enough."

Joel stood there for a beat, as if considering what to say next. Then, he smiled softly, a trace of that quiet tenderness in his eyes. “I’ll rest when I know you’re okay.”

With that, he pulled up a chair near the bed, sitting down so that he could keep an eye on you. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stay there, but he didn’t mind. He just needed to know you were alright.

You shifted slightly in the bed, glancing over at Joel, who was still sitting in the chair, watching you with that soft, protective look in his eyes. A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you studied him for a moment.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, the weight of the night lingering in the air between you. "You don't have to sit there all night."

Joel chuckled quietly, though it held a hint of disbelief. "I'm just making sure you're okay," he said, his voice low but reassuring. He leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees, never taking his eyes off you. "I told you, I’ll rest when you’re alright."

You could see the exhaustion etched on his face, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the long night, but there was still that protective energy about him. You couldn’t help but feel grateful, though you also felt a small ache in your chest seeing him so worn out.

“You can sleep with me, Joel," you said, the words slipping out before you had a chance to stop them. You quickly added, "I mean, if you want to. You don’t have to keep sitting there."

Joel’s expression softened as he took in your offer. He hesitated for a moment, the vulnerability in the air palpable between you two. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally nodded.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice a little rough with emotion. "I think I’d like that."

He stood up slowly, as if testing the idea, then moved to your side. You shifted to make room for him, pulling the blanket back slightly. As he lay down beside you, his warmth seemed to fill the room, and you could feel the tension in your chest loosen just a little.

Joel settled in beside you, not too close but close enough that you could feel his presence. His hand brushed yours, and you both let out a quiet, simultaneous sigh of relief. He shifted onto his side, facing you, his eyes scanning your face as if to make sure you were still okay.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The room was still, only the quiet sound of your breathing filling the space. Finally, Joel’s voice broke the silence, low and soft.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked, his thumb gently brushing over the back of your hand.

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you glanced over at him. "I’m better now," you whispered. "With you here." You paused for a moment “What you did tonight…I can’t find the words to thank you.”

Joel smiled, a small but sincere curve of his lips, as he adjusted slightly, bringing you closer to him. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured softly, his voice warm and reassuring. “You’re important to me.”

His words, though comforting, didn’t stop the weight of your emotions from building up inside you. The closeness, the warmth of his presence, and everything that had happened tonight made your heart swell with something deeper than gratitude.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head slightly, your eyes meeting his with a vulnerability you hadn’t shown before. “I love you, Joel,” you said, the words coming out softly but with a sincerity that made your chest ache.

Joel’s expression softened even more, his thumb still brushing lightly over your hand. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice deep and full of emotion.

You frowned, a little pout forming on your lips as you shifted slightly. “No, you don’t understand,” you murmured, feeling the weight of the moment grow even more. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, almost too heavy to breathe through. Joel’s gaze softened, searching your eyes as if trying to understand what you meant. And when he did, his expression shifted, becoming more tender, more real. Before you could pull away, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, hiding from the intensity of the confession, but also seeking the comfort of his warmth.

Joel’s hand gently cradled the back of your head, his thumb still brushing through your hair as he held you close. The room was filled with a silence that seemed to stretch on forever, and then, in the softest of tones, he spoke.

“Can you repeat it?” His voice was a little rough, full of longing, but there was a hint of vulnerability there too.

You shook your head, keeping your face hidden in the crook of his neck, trying to gather the courage to meet his gaze again. The weight of your own confession was still hanging in the air, making you feel exposed and raw. You mumbled against his skin, “I can’t. It’s too much.”

Joel chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. He shifted slightly, pulling you back just enough to tilt your chin gently upward, so you had no choice but to look into his eyes. The tenderness there was undeniable. “That’s bad,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “’cause I’m in love with you too.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you could only stare at him, eyes wide with surprise. The feeling of his words settled over you, warming you from the inside out, making your heart race.

“I—” You started, but the words stuck in your throat. The vulnerability between the two of you was overwhelming, and yet, it felt like everything had finally clicked into place. There were no more doubts. No more fear.

Joel smiled softly, the warmth of his eyes never leaving yours as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’re here now.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you, a promise, a shared truth. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of his presence sink into your bones, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you. It felt like everything you’d hoped for was finally coming into focus.

Joel gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the softness of your skin as he looked at you, his eyes full of tenderness and something deeper. His gaze was steady, searching for any sign of doubt, but all he found was you—vulnerable, open, and more than ready for what was happening between you two.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured, his voice low but full of meaning. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, with you.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, your heart swelling with emotions too big for words. “I know,” you whispered, a smile finally tugging at the corners of your lips. “I know now.”

Joel’s smile deepened, and in that moment, it was like the world outside of your little bubble didn’t matter. All that existed was the two of you, tangled up in something more real and beautiful than you could have imagined.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with the softest of touches, as if asking for permission. And when you responded, meeting him halfway, the kiss deepened, both of you tasting the sweet vulnerability of this new chapter.

You pulled away slowly, your forehead resting against his, your breaths mingling. “You’re gonna get sick now”

Joel chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take my chances,” he murmured, his hands finding their way back to your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m not letting go now.”

You laughed quietly, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “You’re stubborn,” you said, but there was no annoyance in your voice—just affection.

“And you love me for it,” he replied with a playful grin, his thumb tracing small circles on your back.

You smirked, rolling your eyes slightly, though your heart was full. “I do,” you admitted, your voice soft, the words carrying more weight than you’d ever thought they would. “I really do.”

Joel smiled, his expression softening as he leaned in once more, brushing his lips against yours, but you placed your hand up to stop him for a moment, hanging the little mistletoe over your heads.

Joel raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a grin as you held the mistletoe above your heads. "Where do you get that from?" he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You smirked, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and mischief. "I stole it from you," you replied, your voice teasing, yet sincere.

Joel chuckled, the sound warm and full of affection. "I should’ve known," he said, shaking his head with a playful sigh. "You’re sneaky."

You shrugged, the mistletoe still hovering between you. "I had to make sure it was the right moment."

He chuckled again, and this time, his hands found your waist once more, pulling you close as he leaned in, his eyes softening. "Well, since you put it like that..."

With a grin, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss deepening as you both shared in the quiet joy of the moment.

Joel pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, his expression soft and full of warmth. "You know," he said, his voice low and sincere, "you’re the best gift I could ever ask for."

You felt your heart swell, and a soft smile tugged at your lips. His words, simple yet heartfelt, made everything feel right. Before you could respond, Joel’s grin returned, playful yet tender.

"And," he continued with a teasing glint in his eyes, "I hope you’ll take care of me when I inevitably get sick from all this kissing."

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile forming on your lips. "Oh, don’t worry," you replied, your tone light but affectionate, "I’m more than happy to take care of you."

Joel chuckled, pulling you closer again, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. "Good," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

The warmth between you both felt like the perfect ending to a night full of new beginnings, and as he kissed you again.

And again.

And he thought he would never get tired of it.

222 notes · View notes

helioooss · 19 hours ago

Text

my favourite ex

synopsis: when minjeong dumped you over a year ago, nobody thought that you’d still be chasing after her: your favourite ex.

w/c: roughly 9.5k+

warnings: swearing, making out. winter’s a bit of an ass. law terminology when i actually know nothing about it and university as a whole (this hurt my fucking brain cause i went to uni for a week then dropped out). some angst here and there. (is it even a helios fanfic without a tinge of angst???)

a/n: merry christmas again - first detailed make out scene, lmao :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the class was buzzing when you rolled in, skateboard strapped to your back, oversized “i love my ex” shirt proudly displayed for the world — or rather, for one person in particular, to see. you could feel the weight of the stares, the judgmental whispers blending with poorly concealed laughter, but it didn’t bother you.

at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“mate, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” ryujin said the moment she spotted you, her eyebrows shooting up so high they practically disappeared into her hairline. she nudged yeji, who turned around from her seat and immediately burst into laughter.

“you’re actually wearing that?” yeji cackled, pointing at your shirt as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious what it said. “y/n, come on. you’ve got to stop giving her free real estate in your head.”

“she’s not in my head,” you argued, dropping your bag on the floor with a thud. “she’s in my heart.”

“jesus christ,” ryujin groaned, burying her face in her hands like she couldn’t bear to look at you anymore. “you’re so down bad it’s embarrassing, just gets worse everyday.”

beomgyu leaned back in his chair, grinning from ear to ear as he tilted his head to study your shirt. “honestly, respect. this level of delusion? it’s kind of iconic.”

“thanks gyu,” you plopped down on the seat next to him with a smile.

“no, i mean it,” he said, gesturing wildly with his hands. “like, who does this? who actually wears an ‘i love my ex’ shirt to a class they share with their ex?”

“me,” you said, grinning to yourself. “because i’m not a coward.”

yeji snorted. “no, you’re just stupid.”

you ignored her, your eyes flickering to the other side of the room. there she was, in all her glory: kim minjeong, your ex-girlfriend, sitting with her clique like a queen holding court. yizhuo was whispering something to her, and whatever it was made her smirk — the type that used to make your knees weak.

that felt like a lifetime ago.

she looked flawless, of course. she always did. her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands falling perfectly into place and she was dressed like she’d walked straight out of a magazine; simple yet effortlessly elegant.

even the way she was sitting, legs crossed and her arm draped casually over the back of her chair, made it impossible to look away.

you weren’t the only one staring. everyone in the room was drawn to her in some way, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

she was one of the richest girls at yonsei, part of the infamous clique of untouchables: minjeong, jimin, yizhuo and aeri. together, they were a force of nature, the kind of people who ruled the social hierarchy without even trying.

and yet, once upon a time, minjeong had been yours. your gaze lingered on her, memories flooding in uninvited. the late-night study sessions where she’d tutored you in the basics of tort law, her patience wearing thin every time you made a dumb joke to avoid answering a question.

the rare moments when her cold exterior would crack and she’d laugh; a soft, genuine sound that made your chest ache with something you didn’t understand back then.

the way she used to look at you, like you were the most infuriating person in the world but also someone she couldn’t quite let go of.

“don’t even think about it,” yeji warned, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “do not embarrass yourself any further, y/n.”

“what do you mean?” you asked, tearing your eyes away from the love of your life.

“you’re literally about to get up and try to sit with her,” she deadpanned.

“i was not!” you protested, even though the thought had definitely crossed your mind.

“oh, for sure you were,” ryujin whined, rolling her eyes. “you’re like a moth to a flame. except the flame is your rich, hot ex who dumped you in the middle of the busiest hallway on campus. remember that?”

as if you could forget.

the image was burned into your brain — the way she’d stood there, her voice calm and detached as she said: “i’m bored of you, y/n.”

the flood of emotions when people had stopped to watch, their whispers growing louder with each passing second. the way your chest had caved in, like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

but you’d smiled through it. laughed, even. told her it was fine, that you understood. because you did. you understood minjeong better than anyone else, knew that her coldness was just a shield she used to keep people at arm’s length.

she’d come around eventually, you were sure of it. you just had to wait.

“oh my god, you’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?” yeji groaned. “y/n, move on. she’s not worth it.”

“she’s absolutely worth it,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“no, she’s not,” ryujin said firmly. “she’s cold, distant, and —”

“hot,” beomgyu interjected.

“— and way out of your league,” ryujin finished, ignoring him.

“i don’t care,” you muttered, glancing back at minjeong. she caught your eye for a brief moment, her expression unreadable, before she turned away.

your chest ached.

god, you missed her so much it hurt.

“you’re hopeless,” yeji muttered, shaking her head.

you sighed, leaning back in your chair as professor cho walked in and started the lecture. you tried to focus, really, you did, but every time you glanced in minjeong’s direction, you were reminded of everything you’d lost — and everything you were still desperately hoping to get back.

the class was dead silent, except for professor cho’s monotone voice droning on about the intricacies of criminal law. your head was propped up on your hand, and you let out a long, slow yawn that you didn’t even bother to stifle.

unfortunately, it didn’t go unnoticed.

“miss l/n,” she snapped, her voice sharp and disapproving. “if my lecture is so boring, perhaps you’d like to teach the class yourself?”

you blinked, caught off guard. “i wasn’t saying it was boring.”

“no, you were implying it,” she shot back, folding her arms. “do you have anything to add to the discussion, or are you content to waste everyone’s time?”

the entire room was watching now and you could feel the weight of their eyes on you. you glanced at minjeong, who was sitting with her arms crossed. she didn’t even bother to look at you.

one thing you hated was the judgment, the way your chest tightened uncomfortably under the pressure.

“i didn’t mean to waste anyone’s time,” you defended, trying to keep your voice steady. “i just yawned. it’s not a crime.”

“it’s disrespectful,” she retorted. “and given your current academic performance, i’d suggest you take this class more seriously.”

that hit a nerve. “oh, so now we’re making it personal?” you asked, your voice rising.

“y/n,” ryujin hissed from the corner of the room, but you ignored her.

“you know what?” you said, standing up and grabbing your bag. “i don’t need this. i don’t need to sit here and listen to someone power trip on their authority.”

“then leave,” she finished coldly. “and don’t come back until you’re ready to behave like an adult.”

“gladly,” you muttered, storming out of the room.

once you were outside, you fumbled with your bag until you found your pack of cigarettes. your hands were trembling as you lit one, the first drag filling your lungs and easing the knot in your chest. you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes as the nicotine worked its magic.

but even with the cigarette in hand, your thoughts drifted back to her. minjeong. her stupid smile, the way her eyes used to soften when she thought no one was looking. you thought about the way she’d laughed at your terrible jokes during those late-night study sessions, her walls crumbling just enough to let you in.

and then you thought about the way she’d torn it all apart. how she’d stood there in the middle of that hallway, looking at you like you were nothing and said she was bored.

the memory made your stomach churn. you felt sick, anxious, like you were coming apart at the seams.

“you’ve got to let her go,” you mumbled to yourself, flicking ash onto the ground. “she’s not coming back.”

the words felt hollow. you’d been telling yourself the same thing for months, and yet here you were — still wearing an “i love my ex” shirt like a complete idiot, still hoping she’d see you and change her mind.

you finished your cigarette, hanging around campus before heading to your administrative law class, your mood dark and heavy. when you walked in, yeji waved you over, patting the seat next to her. you slumped into the chair without a word, ignoring her concerned look.

“you alright?” she asked quietly.

“fine,” you mumbled.

out of curiosity, you glanced over your shoulder and immediately regretted it. minjeong was already sitting a row behind you with aeri, her face calm and composed as always. she didn’t even glance your way, but you could feel her presence like a weight pressing down on your chest.

yeji leaned over, her voice low. “okay, but seriously, what’s up with the shirt? you’re not helping yourself.”

you shrugged. “thought it’d be funny.”

“it’s not,” she said bluntly. “it’s sad.”

you didn’t have the energy to argue. instead, you focused on the desk in front of you, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the surface. you hadn’t even realised you were trembling until yeji put a hand on your arm.

“hey,” she said softly. “are you okay?”

“i’m failing,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “failing everything. maybe i should just drop out. leave this place and start over somewhere else.”

she frowned. “don’t say that.”

“why not?” you asked, meeting her eyes. “what’s the point? i’m not cut out for this. i’m just wasting everyone’s time — professors, my parents, even yours.”

“that’s not true,” she said firmly. “you’re not wasting my time and you’re definitely not a waste.”

you didn’t respond, staring down at your trembling hands.

“listen,” she continued, her tone softer. “i know it’s a lot. but dropping out isn’t the answer. you just need to take a step back, breathe and figure out what you want.”

“i don’t even know what i want anymore,” you admitted.

from behind you, you felt a pair of eyes on you. minjeong’s. though you didn’t dare turn around, you could feel her frown, her sharp gaze lingering on your hands.

“just…think about it,” she added, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “you’ve gotten this far.”

by some miracle — or maybe out of sheer spite, you managed to pull yourself together for the rest of the lecture. instead of zoning out or whispering to yeji, you actually listened. surprisingly, the material clicked this time.

professor diaz, as sharp as ever, began throwing out questions to the class and to everyone’s surprise — including your own — you knew the answers.

“miss l/n,” he called, clearly sceptical after he heard of your earlier outburst. “procedural fairness — tell me, what are its main components?”

you hesitated for a moment, glancing at yeji, who gave you a small, encouraging nod. “uh, well, the two main components are the right to a fair hearing and the rule against bias.”

the professor raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting you to be correct. “and? tell us more about it.”

“the right to a fair hearing means that anyone affected by a decision should have an opportunity to present their case,” you answered, hesitation still audible in your voice. “the latter will ensure that decision-makers remain impartial and free from any conflicts of interest.”

he paused, then gave a small nod of approval. “not bad, miss l/n. maybe there’s some hope for you after all.”

you felt a flicker of pride at his words, though it was quickly replaced by embarrassment as yeji smirked and whispered, “look at you, being a functional member of society.”

after class ended, you gathered your things and followed her out, ignoring the glances from your classmates. as the two of you walked toward your usual hangout spot, you spotted ryujin and beomgyu already waiting on the stairs that led down to the fountain.

the fountain, of course, was near the gazebo where minjeong and her clique always sat — and judged.

“finally!” ryujin called out as you and yeji approached. “thought you two got lost or something.”

“y/n was busy impressing the professor,” yeji teased, nudging you. “she actually answered questions. correctly, even.”

“whoa,” beomgyu said, putting a hand to his chest like he was in shock. “is this the same y/n we know, or did someone replace her?”

“ha ha,” you said dryly, dropping your bag on the stairs. “you’re hilarious.”

“she’s just trying to make up for the shirt,” ryujin said, nodding toward your chest.

beomgyu squinted at the bold i love my ex print and groaned. “oh, for the love of — y/n, take it off.”

“you take it off,” you shot back, smirking.

“don’t tempt me,” he said, rummaging through his bag. after a moment, he pulled out a plain white t-shirt and tossed it at you. “here; you put this on before you embarrass yourself any further.”

you stared at the shirt for a moment, then sighed. “fine,” you pulled it over your head without argument, covering up the text that seemed to offend everyone.

“there,” he nodded in approval. “now you look like a normal human being.”

meanwhile, at the gazebo, minjeong had been watching the entire exchange. she frowned when she saw you cover up the shirt, though she didn’t know why it bothered her.

aeri, however, noticed immediately.

“jealous much?” aeri teased, smirking as she leaned back against the gazebo railing. “what, you miss being the one she’s obsessed with?”

“don’t be ridiculous,” minjeong’s tone was cool and dismissive. “i don’t care what she wears.”

“sure you don’t,” yizhuo chimed in, grinning. “you’ve been staring at her for the past five minutes.”

she rolled her eyes, pretending to focus on her phone. “you’re imagining things.”

“uh-huh,” aeri said, exchanging a knowing look with yizhuo.

she ignored them, though her eyes flickered back to you just in time to see you grab your skateboard. you and beomgyu were at it again, attempting flips and tricks on the stairs while yeji and ryujin sat nearby, shaking their heads.

“she’s going to hurt herself,” minjeong muttered, though no one seemed to hear her.

and then, as if on cue, it happened. you misjudged your footing on a landing, and the skateboard flew out from under you. you went down hard, hitting the edge of the stairs with a sickening thud.

“shit,” ryujin said, scrambling to her feet as yeji gasped.

from where she sat, minjeong’s heart skipped a beat. before she realised what she was doing, she was already standing up, her eyes locked on your crumpled form at the bottom of the stairs.

“relax,” jimin mumbled, crossing her arms. “your ex can handle it. and dumped her, remember? don’t act like you care now.”

but she didn’t respond. she couldn’t take her eyes off you, her mind racing with worry even as she tried to convince herself that it wasn’t her problem anymore.

“jesus christ, y/n,” beomgyu muttered as he crouched down beside you, pulling his bag off his back and rummaging through it with the urgency of a paramedic. “you’ve really outdone yourself this time. does it hurt? of course it hurts. what a stupid question.”

“it’s fine,” you said through gritted teeth, clutching your ribs as you tried to sit up. the sharp sting that shot through your side made you wince and you slumped back down against the cold stone of the stairs.

“yeah, fine. sure,” he said sarcastically. “you only fell from, what, three metres? you’re totally fine.”

“shut up, gyu,” you snapped, glaring at him.

“oh, don’t worry,” he said, pulling a freezing cold gatorade bottle out of his bag. “i’m about to help you,” without any warning, he pressed the icy bottle directly against your ribs.

you let out a shriek, the pain sharp and immediate. “what the fuck, beomgyu?!”

“what?” he asked innocently, holding the bottle in place. “it’s cold therapy. helps with the swelling.”

“it’s called torture!” you yelled, trying to shove his hand away.

“stop being dramatic,” he said, but he moved the bottle, finally giving you a moment to breathe.

ryujin crouched next to you, her hands on her hips as she stared at you like a disappointed parent. “you’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

“it wasn’t that bad of a fall,” you muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“you’ve got to stop pulling stunts like this,” she said, shaking her head. “your bones can only take so much abuse before they just give up.”

“and then what?” yeji interjected, crossing her arms as she stared down at you. “you’ll end up in the hospital and we’ll have to explain to the doctors that you’re failing uni because you spend all your time skating and crying over your ex.”

at the mention of her, your stomach twisted. “don’t bring her into this,” you muttered, staring at the ground.

“oh, we’re bringing her into this,” yeji said, crouching down to your level. “because, let’s be honest, half the reason you’re acting like an idiot lately is because of minjeong.”

“shut up,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.

“she’s right, though,” ryujin added, her tone softer this time. “you’ve been in your head about her since the breakup. it’s messing you up.”

“it’s not about her,” you lied, though the lump in your throat betrayed you. you hated that they were right. hated that even now, with pain radiating through your ribs, your thoughts still drifted to her.

you hated minjeong. or at least, you wanted to. you hated the way she made everything look so easy and you hated the way she walked around like she owned the world, like nothing and no one could touch her.

most of all, you hated the way she looked at you. because even now, even after everything, you swore there was something in her eyes that told you she still cared.

and that, more than anything, made you feel sick.

“y/n?” ryujin’s voice cut through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. she was staring at you, her brow furrowed in concern. “are you crying?”

“what? no,” you said quickly, wiping at your face. but the tears were there, hot and unwelcome.

“you are,” yeji pointed, her tone softening. “y/n, what’s wrong? is it your ribs?”

“no,” you said, shaking your head. “it’s…it’s just —” your voice cracked, and you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “stupid fucking bitch, why does she have to look so pretty all the time?”

“who?” beomgyu asked, confused.

“minjeong,” yeji said quietly, her expression softening. “she’s talking about minjeong.”

of course you were. even now, when you should have been focusing on your physical pain, she was the only thing on your mind.

“alright, don’t fucking piss me off,” ryujin groaned abruptly, standing up and brushing off her jeans. “we’re skipping the rest of the day.”

“what?” yeji asked, glancing between you and ryujin. “you serious?”

“dead serious,” ryujin answered. “we’re taking her to joe’s juice joint, and we’re drinking her heart out until she forgets minjeong ever existed.”

“now that’s a plan,” beomgyu said, grinning. “i’m in.”

“guys, i’m fine,” you protested weakly, but ryujin wasn’t having it.

“nope,” she said, grabbing your arm and hauling you to your feet. “you’re coming, no arguments. consider this an intervention.”

reluctantly, you let them guide you down the stairs. every step sent a fresh wave of pain through your ribs but you gritted your teeth and kept moving. anything was better than sitting around and wallowing in self-pity.

as you passed by the gazebo, you didn’t spare minjeong or her clique a single glance. but you could feel her eyes on you, heavy and unrelenting, like she was trying to read your mind from across the courtyard.

“y/n!” aeri’s voice rang out from the gazebo, loud and teasing. “anything broken?”

“just my ego,” you mumbled without looking up.

she cackled, clearly delighted. “you skipping class again? what is this, the third time this week?”

“fourth,” ryujin told her with a smirk. “and yeah, we’re heading to joe’s. you want to join us after your class?”

the girl raised an eyebrow, glancing at minjeong, whose frown deepened. “tempting,” she said, still grinning. “might just take you up on that.”

“we’ll be there all night,” ryujin winked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as if to shield you from the weight of your ex-girlfriend’s gaze.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the first day, it was easy for minjeong to ignore your absence. people skipped class all the time; it wasn’t a big deal. you were probably out skating somewhere or doing something equally idiotic and irresponsible.

she really told herself she didn’t care. she spent the lecture dutifully taking notes, her pen gliding smoothly across the page, her expression calm and collected.

yet as the minutes dragged on, she caught herself glancing at the door more often than she wanted to admit. no loud entrance, no skateboard clattering against the floor, no offhand comment that made half the class groan and the other half laugh. the room felt…off.

too quiet.

“focus,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. this was good. peace and quiet was good.

but the uneasy feeling lingered.

the second day was harder.

she arrived to class early as always, settling into her usual seat. she pulled out her notebook and began skimming through her notes, but her focus wavered. every time the door opened, her eyes flickered up instinctively, only to be met with someone else’s face.

not a sight of you.

again?

she hated how much it bothered her. hated the little knot forming in her stomach, the way her pen hovered idly in her hand as she stared at the empty seat you usually occupied. it wasn’t like she cared.

“you alright?” aeri asked during lunch, raising an eyebrow as she leaned across the table. “you’re kind of…off today.”

“i’m fine,” minjeong said curtly, stabbing at her salad with her fork.

“you don’t look fine,” jimin pressed, clearly amused. “what’s got you all grumpy?”

“nothing,” she replied, her tone sharp enough to make them smirk.

“is it because of y/n?” jimin asked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “you’ve been weird since she stopped showing up.”

“i haven’t been weird,” she snapped, glaring at her.

“you totally have,” yizhuo pointed out, leaning back in her chair. “you’ve been frowning nonstop for two days. it’s honestly kind of funny.”

“maybe you should just ask her friends where she is,” jimin suggested casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “wouldn’t it put your mind at ease?”

“i don’t care where she is,” minjeong said rather quickly, her voice colder than she intended. “it’s none of my business.”

“sure it’s not,” aeri chuckled, exchanging a knowing look with jimin and yizhuo.

she didn’t dignify them with a response. instead, she stood abruptly, grabbing her bag and walking away. she hated how transparent she was, hated that her friends could see right through her.

but as much as she wanted to pretend she didn’t care, the nagging unease wouldn’t go away. your absence felt like a puzzle piece out of place and she hated unsolved puzzles.

the fountain steps were as loud and chaotic as ever when minjeong approached, her unease simmering just beneath her calm exterior. she spotted your friends easily — beomgyu, ryujin and yeji sitting in their usual spot, laughing about something as he gestured wildly with his hands.

she hesitated for a moment, her pride warring with her curiosity. then, with a deep breath, she walked up to them, her expression carefully neutral.

the first to notice her was beomgyu, who immediately froze mid-gesture. “uh…” he blinked, clearly caught off guard. “can we help you?”

“where’s y/n?” she asked, cutting straight to the point. her tone was as cold as ever, but her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.

ryujin raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with yeji. “why do you care?”

“i don’t,” she replied quickly, though the words felt hollow. “i just noticed she wasn’t in class. that’s all.”

“you noticed,” beomgyu said, leaning back with a grin. “interesting.”

“just answer the question,” she demanded, her patience wearing thin.

ryujin sighed dramatically, leaning forward with a smirk. “well, since you’re so curious…she fainted at joe’s the other day, y’know, when she fell down these stairs.”

minjeong’s calm facade cracked. her eyes widened slightly, her grip tightening on her bag. “she fainted?”

“yeah,” ryujin said, her tone casual but her eyes glinting with amusement. “we were all hanging out, having a good time and then boom — she just collapsed.”

her stomach twisted. “collapsed?” her voice was quieter now, less sharp. “what?”

“yep,” yeji added, nodding solemnly. “we had to take her to the hospital. turns out she fractured a rib when she fell on the stairs.”

the words hit your ex-girlfriend like a punch to the gut. fractured a rib? the image of your fall replayed in her mind, but this time it felt sharper, more vivid. she could still hear the sickening thud of your body hitting the stairs, see the way you’d clutched your side in pain.

and now, knowing you hadn’t just brushed it off, that it was serious enough to land you in hospital, made minjeong’s chest ache in a way she didn’t like.

“so, there you go,” ryujin yawned, tilting her head. “your curiosity satisfied?”

she didn’t respond, choosing to turn on her heel and walk away — her mind racing. she told herself it didn’t matter.

you didn’t matter.

she stared blankly at her phone, her thumb idly scrolling through an endless feed of nothing. the sounds of her friends chatting around her faded into the background and she leaned back against the bench, her thoughts pulling her under.

she didn’t know why she broke up with you that day. no matter how many times she replayed the memory in her head, it never made sense. one moment, you were telling her some absurdly funny story about your boss — a ridiculous tale about how he had a deep-rooted fear of olives and couldn’t even look at a martini without panicking.

she remembered laughing at that, really laughed and it felt easy, like it always did with you. you’d grinned at her, bright and carefree; the kind of smile that felt like it was meant just for her.

and then, almost without thinking, she’d said it.

“i’m bored of you.”

the words had tumbled out of her mouth, cold and sharp, before she even realised what she was doing. she remembered the way your expression had faltered for the briefest of moments, like a flicker of a flame before it was snuffed out.

and then, as if to spite her, you’d smiled. laughed, even.

“cool. no worries,” you’d replied, your tone light and easy, like she hadn’t just ripped the ground out from under you.

but she saw the way your shoulders stiffened as you turned and walked away and for the first time, she had felt the weight of what she’d done.

she’d tried to convince herself it was the right choice. your relationship had been getting…too real.

a year was a long time, longer than she ever thought she’d spend with anyone. and with every passing day, you’d peeled back more and more of her walls, learning things about her that she didn’t even know she wanted to share.

it terrified her how easily you read her, how you’d figured her out like you were studying a map of her soul.

she hated it. hated that you could tell what kind of mood she was in just by the way she tapped her pen during lectures. hated that you knew her coffee order by heart, down to the extra splash of milk she only liked on rainy days. hated that you always noticed when she was struggling, even when she didn’t say a word.

she hated that she’d started to depend on you — because if you knew her so well, if you’d gotten that close, then it meant you had the power to hurt her in a way no one else ever had.

and minjeong didn’t know if she could handle that.

so, she’d broken things off. not gently, not in private, but in the loudest, cruelest way possible. if she made you hate her, if she pushed you far enough away, then maybe she could protect herself.

except you didn’t hate her.

you didn’t yell at her, or cry, or make a scene. you just…kept smiling. kept acting like it didn’t bother you, like you understood her better than she understood herself. and then, to her frustration, you started chasing her. showing up to class wearing ridiculous shirts, making jokes loud enough for her to hear and skating around like you didn’t have a care in the world.

it drove her insane.

it wasn’t fair. she’d ended things because she needed distance, needed to feel in control again, and here you were, acting like you could still get under her skin whenever you wanted.

she clenched her jaw, staring down at her phone. the image of you sitting in the hospital, clutching your ribs and pretending it didn’t hurt, flashed in her mind.

you were so stubborn, so reckless, and it infuriated her that she still cared.

“you okay?” yizhuo’s voice cut through her thoughts, and minjeong looked up, realising she’d been silent for too long.

“fine,” she muttered, but the word felt hollow.

“you don’t look fine,” aeri teased, leaning closer. “what’s got you so worked up? your ex again?”

minjeong’s jaw tightened. she hated how easily her friends could read her, hated that she was so transparent. “no,” she answered sharply.

“uh-huh,” jimin said, smirking. “sure it’s not.”

she ignored them, turning her focus inward again. you needed to stop chasing her, stop showing up with that stupid grin that made her chest ache in ways she didn’t want to think about.

maybe if she made it clear that she’d moved on, you’d finally back off. you were proud, after all — too proud to stick around if you thought she was interested in someone else.

an idea formed in her mind, one she didn’t entirely like but couldn’t shake.

maybe i should be seen with someone else in front of her.

if you saw her laughing with someone else, leaning in close, maybe even touching their arm, you’d get the message.

she exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment. it would hurt you — she knew that.

but wasn’t that the point? if hurting you meant protecting herself, wasn’t it worth it?

minjeong opened her eyes, her decision made. she’ll stop. she has to.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

you were already regretting coming in. every step you took through the halls felt heavier, slower, like the whispers around you were dragging you down. usually, the energy on campus buzzed with something familiar — greetings, smiles and nods of acknowledgment as people called out your name.

today, however, there was a sudden shift. people were staring, their hushed voices following you like shadows.

you weren’t used to this. the stares weren’t friendly; they were curious, cautious, like you were some sort of sideshow spectacle.

your mind raced with questions as the weight of their gazes pressed on you: what the fuck have i done now?

“you should’ve stayed home,” ryujin muttered from beside you, her arms crossed and her pace slowing to match yours. “seriously, what are you even doing here?”

“i have to try,” you mumbled, not meeting her gaze. the ache in your ribs flared with every step, but you forced yourself to keep walking. “if i don’t, i’ll have to repeat. and that’s more embarrassing than walking around like this.”

she sighed, shaking her head. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

you didn’t respond, you couldn’t. the pain was bad enough, but the whispers and the growing pit of anxiety in your stomach made it worse. you tried to focus on getting to class, on anything but the way people seemed to glance at you and then quickly look away.

when you finally reached the lecture hall of your evidence class, yeji was waiting near the entrance, her arms crossed. the moment she saw you, she walked up and grabbed your wrist. “come on.”

“what —” you started, but yeji was already pulling you toward the front of the room, far from your usual spot in the back.

“why are we sitting here?” you frowned, glancing back at ryujin, who followed silently, her expression unreadable.

“just trust me,” yeji mumbled, her tone firm as she steered you into a seat in the front row. “you’ll thank me later.”

heaving out a sigh, you didn’t argue. your ribs throbbed as you sank into the chair and you focused on pulling out your notebook and pen, determined to make it through the lecture. you began to scribble notes as it began, your mind too foggy with pain to think about anything else.

direct. circumstantial. hearsay.

until your pen slipped out of your fingers and clattered to the floor behind you.

groaning in pain, you turned slowly, twisting just enough to grab it. when you looked up, the sight in the back of the room hit you harder than the fall that fractured your rib.

minjeong was sitting next to sungchan. not just sitting — close. too close. her body angled toward him, her arm resting on the desk between them, the space so small it might as well not have fucking existed. his stupid smile stretched across his face as he leaned toward her, saying something that made her chuckle softly.

the only thing rooted in place was disbelief as your breath caught in your throat. your fingers froze around the pen. it wasn’t just that they were sitting together; it was the way they looked. comfortable. familiar. like this wasn’t the first time.

what the fuck?

ryujin noticed the change in your expression immediately. “y/n?” she whispered, nudging your arm gently. “hey, you good?”

but you weren’t good. you were anything but good. the pain in your ribs was nothing compared to the ache that spread through your chest like wildfire.

your gaze flickered back to the front, but it was too late. the damage was done. the rest of the lecture passed in a haze, your pen barely moving across the page. you couldn’t focus, all you could see was minjeong and sungchan, sitting together like they belonged there, like she hadn’t asked about you just days ago.

so this is what she wanted, you thought bitterly, your jaw clenched so tight it ached.

some time alone so sungchan could sweep her off her feet?

you thought she cared. you really thought that despite her cold front towards you, that there was still something there, but apparently, you’d been wrong.

she didn’t even glance your way. not once. she stayed glued to him the entire lecture, her quiet laughter ringing faintly in your ears like a cruel reminder.

when the class ended, you packed your things in silence, your hands trembling slightly as you stuffed your notebook into your bag. you didn’t say a word to ryujin or yeji as you walked out, the hollow ache in your chest growing with every step.

she doesn’t care, you told yourself. she never did.

the thought didn’t stop the sting.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the walk to your next class was excruciatingly quiet. too quiet. beomgyu was by your side, matching your pace as the two of you moved through the crowded hallway, but he didn’t say much.

for once, the usual chatter and easy jokes he always carried with him were absent, lips pressed into a thin line, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie — like he was trying to make himself invisible.

he’d noticed, of course. he always did. you’d seen minjeong and sungchan together in the last lecture and it had sucked the life out of you. he’d seen the way your expression had darkened, the fire in your eyes replaced with something duller; something he didn’t like.

you were a ticking time bomb. and he was scared.

“you okay?” he asked finally, his voice hesitant.

you nodded, your eyes focused on the floor ahead of you. “fine.”

he didn’t believe you, not for a second, but he didn’t push. instead, he tried to fill the silence with small talk, his usual coping mechanism.

“so,” he said, forcing a grin. “how’s the rib? still feel like your entire torso’s on fire, or is it more of a dull, stabbing pain now?”

normally, you’d have some kind of snarky remark for him, a sarcastic jab or a playful insult. but now, you just shrugged, your shoulders heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

beomgyu fell silent. it was rare for him to feel uncomfortable, but something about this version of you — quiet, almost lifeless, set him on edge.

the two of you walked into your tutorial room and took your seats. at least minjeong wasn’t here, but sungchan was. and even worse, he was sitting just a few rows behind you, loud enough for you to hear every word he was saying.

“yeah, man, she’s amazing,” sungchan was saying to one of his friends, his voice carrying across the room like nails on a chalkboard. “she’s smart, funny, gorgeous…i mean, i’m going to make her mine.”

your grip tightened around your pen.

“like, she’s not even cold, you know?” he continued, his tone insistent, as if he were the authority on minjeong’s personality. “she’s just…selective. she doesn’t waste her time on people who don’t deserve her.”

every word he said felt like a dagger, twisting deeper and deeper. he spoke about minjeong like he knew her, like he truly understood her and it made your stomach churn.

he doesn’t know her. he doesn’t.

then again, maybe he was right. maybe you didn’t deserve her. maybe you never had.

the tutorial on property law dragged on, every second stretching into an eternity. when it finally ended, you were the last to pack up, moving sluggishly as the room emptied around you. beomgyu hovered nearby, watching you like you might break at any moment.

“y/n,” professor anderson’s voice pulled you from your thoughts and you looked up to see professor anderson, her warm brown eyes filled with concern.

she was one of the few professors who actually seemed to care about her students, and she’d always had a soft spot for you, even if you were a pain in her class sometimes.

“yes, professor?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

she crossed her arms, leaning against her desk as she studied you. “you need to pull it together,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “i don’t know what’s going on with you, but whatever it is, you need to let it go. focus on yourself, not on…other distractions.”

you knew exactly what she meant, but you didn’t argue. instead, you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “i understand,” you said quietly. “thank you, professor.”

“you’re capable, y/n,” she added, her voice softening. “more than you realise. don’t waste that.”

you nodded again, murmuring a quiet “i’ll try” before walking out of the room.

beomgyu followed silently, his usual teasing absent as he guided you toward the stairs where your friends always hung out.

as you approached, your eyes drifted to the gazebo. there they were — minjeong, sungchan and the rest of her friends. he was sitting exactly where you used to sit sometimes, his arm casually draped along the back of the bench, leaning into her like he belonged there.

you looked away quickly, but the image was burned into your mind.

“don’t do anything stupid,” yeji started as you reached the stairs, her voice cutting through the haze in your mind. “seriously, y/n. you’ve already hurt yourself enough. don’t make it worse.”

“she’s right,” beomgyu added, sitting beside you. “minjeong’s made her feelings pretty clear, hasn’t she? maybe it’s time to…you know, let it go.”

you sat there for a moment, staring down at your hands. their words were harsh, but they weren’t wrong. she really had made it clear. over and over again, she’d shown you exactly where you stood in her life.

“okay,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

yeji frowned. “okay?”

you exhaled, the weight of the past year pressing down on you like a tidal wave. “i give up on her.”

the silence that followed was heavy, but for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel like you were drowning.

“it’s about time,” ryujin cut through the silence, her voice lacking its usual teasing edge.

beomgyu clapped a hand on your shoulder, his grin tentative but hopeful. “you’re gonna be okay, y/n.”

you nodded, your gaze drifting back to the gazebo for a moment before turning away. it still hurt, but maybe, just maybe, you were ready to start moving on.

but those words had barely left your mouth when the weight of everything hit you all at once. you thought saying it aloud would feel like some kind of release, a burden lifted.

instead, it was like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. the edges of your vision blurred as your chest tightened, your heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything around you.

you couldn’t breathe.

“y/n?” yeji’s voice came from somewhere far away, muffled and distant. “are you okay?”

your hands were trembling, your fingers curling into fists as you struggled to pull in air. your body felt too heavy, your chest heaving as you fought against the invisible weight pressing down on you.

“shit,” ryujin said, her voice sharp with alarm. “she’s having a panic attack.”

your ribs ached with every shallow breath, the pain only amplifying the sense of suffocation.

“y/n, look at me,” beomgyu called out calmly, crouching in front of you. his voice was steadier than the others, but you could hear the undercurrent of worry. “hey, it’s okay. you’re okay. just breathe, yeah? in through your nose, out through your mouth.”

the panic clawed at your chest, your mind spiralling as thoughts of minjeong, sungchan and everything else crashed over you like a wave.

ryujin grabbed your trembling hands, her grip firm but not forceful. “count with me,” she said, her voice low and steady. “one… two…three…”

the breaths came in short, rapid bursts, your body fighting against you as the world narrowed down to the sound of ryujin’s counting and beomgyu and yeji’s soft reassurances.

slowly, the edges of your vision began to clear, and the tightness in your chest eased just enough for you to take a deeper breath.

“that’s it,” beomgyu said, his voice filled with relief. “you’re doing great, y/n. keep going.”

it took a few more minutes, but eventually, the panic subsided. your breaths came slower, deeper, though your chest still ached from the effort.

“you scared the hell out of us,” ryujin said softly, her hands still holding yours.

“sorry,” you managed to whisper, your voice hoarse.

“don’t apologise,” yeji said firmly. “just…god, y/n. you’ve been holding everything in for so long. you haven’t had one of those in awhile.”

the truth was, you weren’t okay. you hadn’t been for a long time, and today had pushed you past your breaking point.

“we’re taking you home,” beomgyu decided, standing up and offering you his hand. “no arguments.”

“what about your other lectures?” you asked, though the question came out half-heartedly. “i can go home by myself, i’ve gone to all of mine.”

“it can wait,” ryujin reassured, helping you to your feet. “you need to rest.”

as the three of them guided you away from the stairs, your eyes flickered back to the gazebo. she was still there, her laugh carrying faintly on the breeze as sungchan said something that made her smile.

she didn’t even notice — or at least, pretended not to.

it hurt, but for the first time, you let yourself turn away. maybe you didn’t know how to move on yet, but you knew you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself.

one step at a time, you’d figure it out eventually.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the past few days had been a blur of quiet determination. for once, you focused on your lectures, actually paying attention and, to your own surprise, getting the answers right. the professors had started to notice the shift, exchanging glances whenever you raised your hand or turned in a completed assignment.

even your friends had been treading lightly around you, unsure of what to make of the sudden change.

your skateboard hadn’t seen the light of day in a week, and your fractured rib was a constant, painful reminder to take things slow. the ache kept you grounded, pulling you out of your thoughts whenever they strayed too far toward the past — or toward her.

you told yourself you were doing better. and maybe you were.

but then came criminal law and your tutorial; the one you dreaded the most and gotten into trouble for. the memory of that confrontation still made you cringe, but you were determined to avoid any repeat incidents today.

when professor cho announced that you’d be pairing up for an activity, your stomach dropped. random pairings. your gut churning. there were over fifty people in this class. surely your odds weren’t that bad. surely the universe wouldn’t —

“l/n and kim,” she announced and you felt your heart sink into your stomach.

there was no point protesting. she didn’t entertain negotiations when it came to her pairing system.

you didn’t look at her as you packed up your things and moved to sit beside her. minjeong was already there, her posture as perfect and poised as ever, her notebook open and a pen twirling idly between her fingers.

she glanced at you as you sat down, but you kept your eyes on your notes.

“so,” she began, her voice low and cautious. “let’s —”

“yes, let’s just get this over with,” you interrupted, your tone curt as you flipped through your notes. “assuming we both know the answers, this shouldn’t take long.”

she blinked, taken aback. she wasn’t used to this. wasn’t used to you being cold, distant. it was disarming, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

“how’s your rib?” she asked after a minute of silence, her voice quieter.

“fine,” you said shortly, not looking up and you rammed through your lecture notes.

she frowned, her eyes flickering to your hands. your fingers were trembling slightly, just enough to be noticeable if someone was paying attention.

she was paying attention.

“are you sure —“

“can we focus on the activity, please?” you cut her off, your tone sharper now. “i don’t want to waste time.”

the task was straightforward: analyse the implications of marbury v. madison on the separation of powers and judicial authority. a list of guiding questions were already provided.

her jaw tightened, but she didn’t push further. the two of you worked through the questions in near silence, your answers quick and precise, leaving no room for small talk. every time she tried to make a comment or ask something unrelated, you shut her down with a clipped response.

“okay, yeah, how did chief justice marshall justify the court’s authority to strike down laws?” minjeong asked, her tone professional, detached.

“his argument was that it was inherent in the role of the judiciary to interpret the constitution,” you replied flatly, not meeting her eyes. “and that any law conflicting with the constitution was void.”

she nodded, writing down your response. her attempt at making small comments, asking for your opinion on certain nuances of the case were shut down with brief, matter-of-fact answers.

aeri, sitting a few seats away, was clearly enjoying the show. she leaned back in her chair, smirking as she whispered something to jimin, who chuckled quietly.

minjeong cleared her throat, watching you write her answers down. “any plans for the weekend?”

you stopped writing, eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at her. “seriously?”

when you brushed off another one of her attempts at conversation, aeri let out a low laugh that carried just enough for you both to hear. “looks like someone’s getting a taste of their own medicine.”

minjeong shot her a glare but didn’t say anything. she turned back to you, watching as you scribbled the last answer onto your notes with an almost mechanical efficiency.

“we’re done,” you said flatly, closing your notebook. you didn’t even look at her as you packed up your things, already half-turned away.

“wait,” minjeong said, her voice firmer this time.

you paused, your jaw clenching as you slowly turned back to face her. “what now?”

“what’s your problem?” she asked, her brows furrowed in frustration. “why are you acting like this?”

you stared at her, disbelief flashing across your face. “why do you care?”

“i don’t,” she said quickly, though the slight waver in her voice betrayed her. “i just think we should be civil. we have to share classes, and —”

“civil?” you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “you want to be civil? fine. here’s me being civil: i don’t want anything to do with you. so why don’t you go bother your boyfriend instead?”

her eyes widened, stunned into silence for a moment. “boyfriend?”

“sungchan,” you said, spitting his name like it was poison. “you know, the guy who’s been practically glued to your side?”

her mouth opened, but no words came out. she didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain that sungchan wasn’t anything to her, that she didn’t even like him like that.

yet, the way you were looking at her — hurt and angry and tired — made her chest ache in a way she shouldn’t ignore.

“just leave me alone, minjeong,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less firm. “you’ve already made it clear how little i mean to you.”

and with that, you turned and walked away, leaving her sitting there, her thoughts a tangled mess of regret and confusion.

aeri, who’d been watching the whole exchange, let out a low whistle. “damn, winter. you really fucked this one up.”

she didn’t respond. she just sat there, staring at the spot where you’d been, her hands clenched into fists as she tried to make sense of the hollow feeling in her chest.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the sheer audacity of minjeong to ask you what was wrong after everything. it wasn’t just the question itself; it was the nerve of her, acting as if she cared when she clearly didn’t.

you couldn’t shake the anger. no matter how many hours passed, no matter how much you tried to focus on anything else, it kept bubbling up, simmering just beneath the surface.

“can you believe her?” you said, gesturing wildly as ryujin, yeji and beomgyu listened, clearly trying not to laugh. “what’s your problem? she has the nerve to ask me that, like she doesn’t know exactly what my problem is!”

“to be fair,” ryujin sighed, leaning back on her elbows. “you didn’t exactly give her much to work with.”

“yeah, well, she didn’t deserve anything from me,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “if she wanted me to talk, maybe she should’ve thought about that before…ugh, before being her stupid idiot self.”

beomgyu snorted. “solid argument, y/n. very lawyer-like.”

you rolled your eyes, but it only made you more animated. “and the worst part? she keeps pretending like she wants to be civil. civil! like we’re strangers passing in the hall. how does she expect me to just…just—” you waved your hands in frustration, “pretend nothing ever happened?”

“you’re really letting this eat at you,” yeji snorted, glancing toward the gazebo. “but hey, at least sungchan isn’t around today. small mercies, right?”

you stopped for a second at her words, if you’d had to see him sitting there next to minjeong again, smiling like he’d already won, you might have actually lost your sanity.

“yeah,” you muttered. “thank god for that.”

“so,” beomgyu said, smirking, “when are we moving on to the part where you stop caring?”

“don’t hold your breath,” ryujin quipped, earning a laugh from yeji.

you were mid-rant again, mocking minjeong’s indifferent expression and her painfully polite tone, when someone tapped your shoulder lightly.

startled, you turned around, expecting one of your friends, or worse, another professor.

instead, it was danielle marsh — one of the girls who shamefully, on your part, tutored you occasionally.

“hey,” she said softly, her warm smile immediately catching you off guard. she was carrying a tray with coffee cups and a few neatly wrapped sandwiches.

“danielle?” you said, blinking in surprise. she was a year below you, someone you didn’t know very well aside from occasional nods in the hall. “uh, hi?”

“i, um, saw you hurt your rib the other day,” she stammered, holding out the sandwiches for you. “so, minji and i made this for you this morning. figured you might need it.”

for a second, you just stared at her, completely thrown. “you made this for me?”

“yeah,” she said, looking a little shy now. “well, for all of you, really.” she glanced at your friends, smiling. “thought you could all use a pick-me-up.”

your friends didn’t hesitate to take the offered sandwiches and coffee, immediately diving into grateful thank-yous.

“seriously, danielle,” you said, standing up and pulling her into a gentle hug, careful not to press on your rib. “you didn’t have to do this.”

“it’s nothing,” she laughed softly as she hugged you back. “i just hope you feel better soon, yeah?”

“thanks,” you said, pulling away and meeting her kind eyes. “really, thank you. this means a lot.”

she waved it off with a bright smile. “anytime,” and with that, she walked off, leaving you and your friends with her thoughtful gesture.

the moment she was out of earshot, your friends pounced.

“well,” ryujin drawled, raising an eyebrow. “that was adorable.”

“and unexpected,” yeji added, already unwrapping her sandwich. “she made this for you? i mean, for all of us, sure, but for you?”

“you’re getting girls faster than we thought,” beomgyu teased, grinning. “maybe danielle’s your new start? or minji?”

you groaned, but their teasing was infectious, and for the first time in days, you found yourself laughing. “fuck off you all.”

“just saying,” ryujin shot back, smirking. “if this is what moving on looks like, i’m here for it.”

meanwhile, from the gazebo, minjeong watched the entire interaction. she’d seen danielle approach you, watched as she handed you coffee and sandwiches, her smile soft and genuine. she saw the way you hugged her, your expression lighter than it had been all week.

she hated how it made her feel.

yizhuo, sitting beside her, noticed immediately. “jealous?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“no,” minjeong denied, her voice sharper than she intended.

“uh-huh,” the younger girl smirked. “sure you’re not.”

she didn’t want to admit it — not even to herself, but the gnawing feeling in her chest was unmistakable.

it was jealousy, plain and simple. and it had started the moment she saw danielle hand you those coffees and sandwiches, her smile bright and genuine as she looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

it wasn’t fair. you weren’t supposed to move on so quickly. not when minjeong had spent months convincing herself she didn’t care anymore, that you were just a chapter of her life she’d already closed. but watching someone else care for you made her stomach twist in ways she didn’t like.

“so,” jimin began, her tone casual but laced with curiosity as she leaned against the gazebo railing. “danielle, huh?”

minjeong stiffened. “what about her?”

“oh, nothing,” she laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “just that she’s kind of adorable. and from what i’ve heard, she’s, like, the nicest person ever. super smart, super talented. makes sense she’d go for y/n, honestly.”

“she is not going for y/n,” minjeong snapped.

aeri raised her eyebrows. “hmm, interesting reaction.”

“oh, please,” yizhuo chuckled as she looked up from her phone. “you’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“i’m not jealous,” she insisted, but her voice lacked conviction.

aeri leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as her smile faded slightly. “minjeong, if you’re just going to play with y/n’s feelings, leave her alone. seriously. she’s trying to move on and you need to let her.”

“i’m not playing with her feelings,” she protested, though the guilt was already clawing at her.

jimin scoffed, crossing her arms. “really? because the way you dumped her in front of everyone was pretty brutal. honestly, you’re lucky she didn’t punch you in the face.”

“she didn’t because she’s too nice for her own good,” yizhuo chimed in, her smirk widening. “but honestly, if she did, i’d have cheered her on — we liked y/n.”

minjeong clenched her jaw, her gaze dropping to the table. she didn’t need the reminder of how badly she’d handled things. she knew she’d been cruel and pushed you away in the worst possible way, all because she was scared.

“look,” jimin softened her tone. “you’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling, but don’t mess with y/n. she doesn’t deserve that — she chased you for a long time.”

before she could even respond, a loud, overly cheerful voice interrupted them.

“minjeong!”

she turned to see sungchan bounding toward them, a bouquet of brightly coloured flowers in hand.

her friends groaned in unison and jimin buried her face in her hands. “fuck’s sake, can you get rid of that cretin already? we let him sit here, once. and nothing more.”

“what now?” aeri muttered, glaring at the boy as he stopped in front of them, his grin blinding.

“i brought you these,” he said, holding out the flowers with a flourish. “thought they might brighten your day.”

minjeong blinked, completely caught off guard. “uh…”

“sungchan,” jimin interrupted, her voice dripping with annoyance, “we’re kind of in the middle of something. can you not?”

“yeah,” aeri added, ushering for him to leave. “serious conversation happening here. come back later. or maybe never.”

he frowned, clearly disappointed, but he turned to minjeong anyway. “wait, so…can i still come over tonight?”

right on time as you walked past the gazebo, your bag slung over your shoulder, steps faltering for a split second, your head turning just enough to catch sight of the flowers in sungchan’s hand and the hopeful look on his face.

your expression darkened, your brows furrowing as you looked away quickly and kept walking. but she saw it — the flash of hurt that crossed your face, so brief she might have missed it if she hadn’t been watching you so closely.

her chest tightened, guilt mixing with panic. without thinking, she stood up abruptly, ignoring her friends’ surprised looks.

“wait,” she called after you, her voice louder than she intended. “y/n!”

she caught up to you in a few quick strides, falling into step beside you as you kept walking.

then, you stopped abruptly, refusing to face her. “what do you want?” you asked, your tone flat and cold.

“i just…” she hesitated, struggling to find the right words as she turned towards you. “it’s not what it looked like.”

your expression was a mixture of anger and exhaustion, your eyes narrowing slightly. “what are you talking about?”

“sungchan,” she said quickly. “he’s not — i didn’t…he’s not coming over tonight. or any night. he’s not my boyfriend.”

“why do you think i care?” your voice cut through the air like a blade.

minjeong flinched, her chest tightening. she wanted to explain, to say something that would make this easier, but nothing came out. she hated the way your walls were so firmly in place now, blocking her out completely.

“you don’t have to explain yourself to me, minjeong,” you said, your voice softer now but no less firm. “we’re nothing to each other anymore. remember?”

you didn’t wait for her to respond. you turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, her heart pounding and her thoughts a tangled mess of longing.

from the gazebo, jimin let out a low sigh, shaking her head as she watched the scene unfold. “she’s really not handling this well, is she?”

“nope,” aeri sighed. “but it’s fun to watch.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a few days later, you were back in routine; or at least, you were trying to be. the faint ache in your ribs had dulled to something manageable and you’d thrown yourself into lectures and tutorials with a determination that surprised even you.

your professors had started making comments, subtle acknowledgments of your sudden focus and improvement but none of it felt particularly satisfying.

then the rumour started.

“did you hear?” ryujin’s voice broke through the usual buzz of the courtyard as she dropped her bag on the stairs next to you. yeji and beomgyu followed close behind, their expressions a mix of concern and hesitation.

“hear what?” you asked, not looking up from your notebook. you were halfway through an analysis of some case law, trying to keep your mind occupied.

“about minjeong,” ryujin said, her tone careful, like she was stepping on eggshells. “we want you to hear it from us.”

your hand froze mid-sentence. “what about her?”

“uh…” yeji exchanged a glance with beomgyu, who grimaced and shoved his hands in his pockets. “apparently, she said yes to sungchan.”

the pen slipped from your fingers, clattering onto the page. for a moment, you just stared at it, your mind blank. then you picked it up and calmly closed your notebook.

“oh,” you said, your voice eerily even. “good for her.”

ryujin raised an eyebrow. “you okay?”

“yep,” you stuffed your notebook into your bag and stood up, slinging it over your shoulder. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“oh, i don’t know,” beomgyu said, crossing his arms. “maybe because the girl you’ve been in love with for, like, two years just said yes to a guy who literally makes his hair gel do all the work.”

“beomgyu,” yeji hissed, elbowing him in the side.

“what? i’m just saying,” he muttered, but he backed off when ryujin shot him a warning look.

“it’s okay to feel defeated, you know,” ryujin said, her voice gentler now. “angry, even. god knows you tried your best to win her back.”

you sighed, pressing your fingers to your temples. “look, i’m fine. it’s whatever. she can date whoever she wants. i don’t care.”

“okay,” they were clearly unconvinced.

but you didn’t respond. instead, you turned and walked away, leaving your friends watching after you with varying degrees of concern. you didn’t go to your classes that day.

instead, you found yourself in the library, tucked away in a quiet corner with a stack of books and your notes spread out in front of you. studying was easier than thinking about stupid rumours.

meanwhile, across campus, minjeong was sitting with her friends at the gazebo when yizhuo casually dropped the bomb.

“so, when were you going to tell us?” she asked, leaning back in her chair with a sly grin.

“tell you what now?” minjeong asked, frowning.

“about you and sungchan,” she answered, raising an eyebrow. “i heard you said yes to being his girlfriend.”

she froze in her spot, quick to turn her head. “what now?”

“oh, come on,” aeri rolled her eyes. “everyone’s talking about it. apparently, sungchan told some of his friends and now it’s all over campus.”

“that’s not true, i’ll fucking punch him,” she said quickly, her voice rising slightly. “i didn’t say yes to him. i didn’t even —” she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “this is getting out of hand.”

jimin raised an eyebrow as she crossed her legs, reapplying her lipstick. “so you’re not dating him?”

“no!” minjeong exasperated. “of course not.”

“well, you might want to clear that up,” yizhuo giggled. “because your rumoured boyfriend is basking in the glory right now.”

“ugh,” she muttered, standing up abruptly. “this is so stupid.”

“where are you going?” aeri called after her.

“to fix this,” minjeong yelled over her shoulder, already walking away.

as she made her way across campus, her thoughts weren’t on sungchan or the rumour. they were on you. if the rumour had reached her, it had definitely reached you.

and she didn’t like the idea of you believing it for even a second.

it didn’t take long to find you. the library was one of the few places on campus where you could completely disappear these days, and sure enough, there you were, hunched over a pile of books in a quiet corner.

minjeong hesitated for a moment, watching you from a distance. your head was bent over your notes, your brows furrowed in concentration, but even from here, she could see the tension in your shoulders, the way your pen moved too quickly, like you were trying to outrun your thoughts.

“y/n,” she said softly as she approached.

you didn’t look up. “what do you want, minjeong?”

“i need to talk to you,” she muttered, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down before you could protest.

“i’m busy,” your voice cold as you flipped a page in your notebook.

“it’s about what’s being said about me,” she began quickly, leaning forward. “the one about sungchan.”

that made you pause. your pen hovered over the page, but you didn’t look at her. “what about it?”

“it’s not true,” she tried to reassure you. “i didn’t say yes to him — i barely fucking know him.”

you finally looked up, your eyes meeting hers with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “why are you telling me this?”

“because i don’t want you to think —” she stopped, her words catching in her throat. “i don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“minjeong,” you sighed, your tone tired, “you broke up with me. in front of everyone. you don’t owe me explanations about your love life.”

“i know,” she mumbled. “but i wanted to tell you anyway.”

you stared at her for a moment, your expression unreadable, before shaking your head and turning back to your notes. “thanks for the clarification. now, if you’ll excuse me, i have actual work to do.”

“okay.”

you frowned, shaking your head. “okay?”

minjeong hesitated, her chest tightening as she watched you retreat further behind your wall, but she didn’t know what else to say.

so she stood up, her hands clenched at her sides and walked away, leaving you alone in the quiet hum of the library.

she had made it halfway back to the gazebo when her steps faltered. the way she replayed your cold, clipped tone in her head bothered her.

she told herself to keep walking, to let it go. you clearly wanted nothing to do with her and it was too late for her to fix anything, but the thought of leaving things like this didn’t sit right with her.

“fuck it,” minjeong muttered under her breath, turning on her heel. she was already moving before she could second-guess herself.

the library was quieter than before when she slipped back inside. she spotted you almost immediately, still in the same spot, hunched over your notebook with a pen in hand. the tension in your posture hadn’t eased, and your lips were pressed into a thin line as you stared down at the pages in front of you.

she didn’t think. she walked straight to your table, stopping just short of your line of sight. her hands balled into fists at her sides, but her voice was calm when she spoke.

“what are you studying for?”

you froze for a moment before lifting your head slowly, your eyes narrowing as they met hers. “why are you back?”

“i’m curious,” she said, her voice steady as she gestured to the pile of books and notes on your desk. “what are you working on?”

you stared at her for a moment longer, clearly debating whether or not to engage. finally, with a sigh, you relented. “contracts,” you muttered, flipping through a set of messy notes. “specifically offer and acceptance. and it doesn’t make sense. i don’t get it.”

her lips quirked upward, just slightly, and before you could protest, she pulled out the chair across from you and sat down.

“show me what you’ve got,” she said, leaning forward and pulling one of your books toward her.

“minjeong, don’t,” you warned, but there wasn’t much heat in your voice. “it’s embarrassing enough that danielle, who’s a year below me, had to explain half of this stuff to me the other day. i don’t need my ex-girlfriend doing the same.”

“so?” she hummed, her voice calm in that matter-of-fact tone of hers. “i know you, she doesn’t.”

her words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. before you could form a rebuttal, she was already flipping through your notes, scanning the pages with a practiced eye.

“okay,” she began, her tone shifting into something softer, more focused. “let’s start with offer and acceptance. it’s the foundation of any valid contract, right?”

you nodded hesitantly.

“an offer is essentially a promise or commitment to do something, or refrain from doing something that’s communicated to another party,” she explained. “acceptance, on the other hand, is the agreement to the terms of that offer. it has to be clear and communicated back to the person who made the offer.”

you watched as she grabbed a blank sheet of paper and began sketching out a quick diagram, breaking the concept into manageable chunks. “think of it like this: aeri makes an offer to jimin. for it to become a binding contract, jimin has to accept it. if she doesn’t, there’s no agreement.”

“as if jimin would ever accept anything, but go on,” you frowned, glancing at your notes. “what about when an acceptance comes with conditions? like, if jimin says ‘yes, but only if you deliver by friday.’ doesn’t that count as acceptance?”

“good question,” minjeong said, nodding. “that’s actually a counteroffer, not acceptance. a counteroffer effectively rejects the original offer and replaces it with a new one. the original offer is no longer valid unless aeri agrees to the new terms.”

you blinked, processing her words. for the first time all day, the tangled mess of legal jargon in your head started to untangle itself.

“okay, but what about silence?” you asked, leaning forward slightly despite yourself. “like, if aeri threatens jimin with, ‘if you don’t respond, i’ll take that as acceptance.’ does that count?”

“generally, no,” she explained, almost laughing at your example. “silence isn’t considered acceptance. there are exceptions, though, like if there’s a prior relationship between the parties where silence has been treated as acceptance before but that’s pretty rare.”

you let out a low sigh, leaning back in your chair. “this is so annoying.”

“you’re doing fine,” she smiled, her tone reassuring as she slid the diagram she’d drawn across the table. “you’re overthinking it. contracts are just logic in disguise.”

“logic,” you repeated, rolling your eyes. “right. it’s totally logical to write 50 pages on whether saying ‘maybe’ counts as acceptance.”

minjeong chuckled softly and the sound caught you off guard. it was the first time in a long while that she didn’t sound distant or guarded.

“okay, fair,” she kept the smile on her face. “but you’re getting there. it’s not as bad as you think.”

you glanced down at the diagram she’d drawn, the pieces clicking into place in your mind. reluctantly, you muttered, “thanks.”

“anytime,” she answered, her voice soft.

the two of you sat in silence for a moment, the tension between you easing just slightly. but then you shook your head, a faint scowl tugging at your lips. “still doesn’t change the fact that this is humiliating.”

“why?” she asked, tilting her head.

“because you’re my ex,” you said bluntly. “this is next-level embarrassing.”

minjeong shrugged, her expression calm. “i don’t see why it’s a big deal. i’ve seen worst. plus, we’ve been through this before.”

her words lingered in the air, heavier than you expected. for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond, so you said nothing.

instead, you turned your attention back to the notes in front of you, your chest tightening with something you didn’t want to name.

she, however, didn’t press further. she stayed, patiently guiding you through the material until the frustration in your eyes gave way to understanding.

the library was much quieter now, with most of the tables empty and the hum of whispers and shuffling papers reduced to a faint background noise. as you packed up your things, minjeong stood by the door, waiting silently. the awkwardness between you had lessened, but it wasn’t entirely gone.

after all, she was still minjeong; cold, poised, and impossible to read — and you were still you, guarded and hesitant.

you slung your bag over your shoulder as you approached her. “thanks for the help,”

“you’re welcome,” she replied, her tone equally quiet.

the two of you stepped out into the hall together, the silence between you not entirely uncomfortable, but not warm either.

and then, as if the universe had decided to throw yet another curveball your way, you spotted danielle walking toward you, her usual bright smile lighting up her face.

“y/n!” she called out, waving as she quickened her pace.

you stopped, your heart sinking slightly and it was not out of dread, but because you could already feel the tension radiating off minjeong beside you.

still, you smiled at danielle, grateful for her kindness. “hey, what’s up?”

“oh, nothing much,” she said, adjusting the strap of her backpack. “just wanted to see if you’re free after school. thought we could have another study session. you know, go over those case studies from contracts? i think i’ve got some good notes that might help.”

for a moment, your mind flickered back to the days when minjeong used to tutor you. the late nights in quiet study rooms, the way her calm explanations had made everything click.

it was hard not to draw parallels, but you quickly pushed the thought aside.

“yeah, sure,” you said with a nod. “that sounds good.”

danielle beamed and then her eyes shifted to minjeong, who had been standing silently beside you the entire time. her smile faltered slightly as she tilted her head. “oh, hi. i don’t think we’ve met.”

you hesitated for a split second before gesturing between them. “danielle, this is minjeong. minjeong, danielle.”

“hi!” danielle said brightly, extending a hand. “nice to meet you.”

she glanced at her hand briefly before giving it a polite shake, her expression cool and detached. “likewise.”

danielle didn’t seem fazed by her tone, her smile unwavering. “so, are you two friends?”

you opened your mouth to answer, but minjeong spoke first. “we’re classmates.”

her voice was so flat, so devoid of emotion, that it left no room for interpretation. danielle nodded, glancing at you as if to say, well, that was awkward.

“anyway,” she continued, turning back to you, “i’ll text you the details for later, okay?”

“sounds good,” you said, offering her a small smile. “thanks, danielle.”

“no problem,” she grinned. “see you later!”

with that, she waved and walked off, leaving you alone with minjeong once again. the silence that followed was heavier than before and when you turned to look at her, her expression was unreadable.

“what?” you asked, frowning slightly.

she didn’t respond immediately. her eyes lingered on the spot where danielle had been, her thoughts racing. she thought about the way the other girl had smiled at you, her kindness so effortless and genuine.

she thought about the way you’d smiled back, softer than you ever smiled at her these days.

and then, minjeong thought about herself; her coldness, her inability to open up, the walls she’d built so high that even you, someone who had once been so close, had struggled to climb them.

she thought about the way she’d hurt you, the way she pushed you away and how she kept coming back, unable to let go but unwilling to fully stay.

you deserve better.

the realisation hit her with a clarity she couldn’t ignore. you deserved someone who could match your warmth and meet you halfway without hesitation.

someone who didn’t leave you questioning your worth or your place in their life.

and minjeong knew, deep down, that she wasn’t that person.

“nothing,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “i’ll see you around, y/n.”

before you could respond, she turned and walked away, her steps brisk and purposeful.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the moment minjeong walked away, you brushed off the strange interaction as just another one of her weird moods, but the more you thought about it, the more it stuck in your head.

the way she’d been so quiet, her gaze distant, it was strange, even for her.

as you made your way to your next class, you couldn’t help but vent to yeji, who listened intently as she walked beside you.

“it was so weird,” you tried to explain. “she just stood there while danielle was talking to me. like, awkwardly silent the whole time. and then she walked away without saying anything, like — what was that?”

yeji snorted. “classic minjeong,” she said, rolling her eyes. “probably trying to act mysterious. you know, her usual icy queen routine — all the reason why her nickname’s winter.”

“i don’t get it, though,” you said, frowning. “she came back into the library just to help me with contracts and then she acted all…weird when danielle showed up.”

“maybe she’s jealous,” she suggested with a smirk.

“jealous?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “of what?”

“danielle; she sees you getting close to someone else and suddenly remembers she doesn’t like sharing.”

“that’s ridiculous,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “minjeong doesn’t care about me like that anymore. she made that pretty clear when she dumped me in front of everyone.”

yeji shrugged. “maybe. or maybe she’s just realising what she lost.”

the thought lingered in the back of your mind as you reached your next class: professor diaz’s administrative lecture.

the room was already filling up with students when you walked in and minjeong was seated near the middle, often her usual spot. you hesitated for a split second when your eyes met hers, but you quickly looked away and took a seat beside yeji in the back row.

professor diaz walked in a moment later, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room as he placed his notes on the desk.

“good afternoon, everyone,” he started, tone brisk as always. “today, we’re starting a project that will require collaboration, critical thinking and presentation skills. it’s an activity that requires two members per team.”

you glanced at yeji, who gave you a small, sympathetic smile. you weren’t a fan of group projects, but you could survive it.

hopefully.

“partners have already been assigned,” he continued, flipping through a list of names. “i paired you based on complementary skills and previous performance. some of you might not like it, but tough luck.”

again, you slouched slightly in your seat, praying to every higher power you could think of that you wouldn’t end up with —

“y/n l/n and kim minjeong.”

you groaned quietly, earning a small laugh from the girl beside you. “tough break,” she whispered, smirking.

you’ve got to be fucking kidding.

you reluctantly made your way to the middle of the room, where minjeong was sitting, her expression unreadable as always. she didn’t look surprised to see you, which only annoyed you more.

“of course,” you muttered as you dropped into the seat beside her. “because who else would i get stuck with other than you?”

“nice to see you too,” she said dryly, flipping open her notebook.

professor diaz continued explaining the project from the front of the room. “we’re diving into the practical application of judicial review in administrative law, specifically focusing on procedural fairness and its two pillars: the right to a fair hearing and the rule against bias.”

he paced the front of the room, hands clasped behind his back. “your task is to analyse a hypothetical case, identify the grounds for judicial review and argue whether the administrative decision should be upheld or quashed; this project will span the next week or two, depending on how i feel. the final deliverable will include a written report and a joint presentation to the class.”

you collectively groaned with everyone else, pulling out your notes as you glanced at minjeong. “so,” you said flatly, “what case should we pick?”

“something straightforward,” she replied, her tone calm. “we don’t have time to overcomplicate this.”

“righto,” you said, opening your laptop. “let’s look at some recent cases.”

the two of you worked in tense silence for a few minutes, scrolling through legal databases and jotting down notes. the tension was palpable, hanging heavy between you. you could feel her gaze on you every now and then and it made your skin crawl.

“why do you think professor cho paired us?” you asked finally, breaking the silence.

“probably because your grades improved when i was tutoring you,” minjeong said matter-of-factly.

you glared at her, but she didn’t flinch. “well, that’s embarrassing.”

“why?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “it’s the truth.”

her words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. you quickly shook it off, refocusing on the project. “whatever. let’s just get this over with.”

minjeong didn’t respond, but she watched you carefully, her expression unreadable. you looked so beautiful.

as much as she tried to focus on the project, her mind kept drifting to one thought: you deserve better than this. better than me.

she didn’t say it. instead, she turned her attention back to the case in front of her, determined to at least help you succeed in this, even if it meant spending the next few days side by side.

the library became your designated meeting spot for the project, mostly because it was neutral ground. neither of you wanted to be in each other’s spaces and the library was safe and impersonal.

together, you worked in a tense but oddly productive silence during your free time, with occasional moments of begrudging cooperation when one of you needed clarification or feedback.

the first few sessions were uneventful, though the air between you was thick with unspoken words. minjeong would occasionally glance at you when she thought you weren’t looking, her gaze lingering just long enough for you to notice, but she never said anything about it.

it was during your third meeting that everything went sideways.

you were both seated at a table in one of the quieter corners of the library, surrounded by books and notes as you debated how to frame your analysis of the case.

minjeong had just finished explaining her point when a loud, overly enthusiastic voice shattered the peace.

“minjeong!”

you looked up, already cringing as sungchan approached your table, his usual grin plastered across his face. he was carrying a coffee cup in one hand and what looked like a wrapped pastry in the other.

“what are you doing here?” she asked, her tone cool but tinged with annoyance.

“what does it look like?” he said, pulling up a chair uninvited and plopping down beside her. “i saw my favourite girl through the window and thought i’d bring you coffee. and a croissant. your favourite, right?”

she sighed, her eyes briefly flickering to you before landing back on his. “i’m busy.”

“you’ve got to eat, right? and who’s this?” he glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “oh…y/n, right?”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah, we’re working on a project if you’ve got eyes.”

sungchan’s gaze darted between you and minjeong, his grin faltering just a little. “huh, weird pair. but then again…” he trailed off, his smirk returning. “you two used to date, didn’t you?”

her jaw tightened, but she didn’t say anything. you, on the other hand, just rolled your eyes. “what’s your point?”

“nothing,” he replied, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms. “just funny how things work out, isn’t it? i mean, you’re stuck working with her, and she —”

“sungchan,” minjeong interrupted, her voice sharp. “stop.”

he blinked, clearly caught off guard by her tone. then he laughed, shaking his head. “fine, fine. i’ll stop. but, you know, it’s interesting —”

“sungchan,” she repeated, firmer this. “leave. we’re busy.”

he didn’t leave. instead, he looked at her, then at you and back again. and then, with a smug grin, he said, “wait minjeong, i thought you said you never liked her.”

the words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to explode. your stomach twisted, heart dropping into your chest as you stared at minjeong. she froze, her eyes widening slightly as she opened her mouth to respond.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you spoke for her, your voice low but sharp as you glared at sungchan.

“i’m just saying,” sungchan replied with a shrug, clearly oblivious to the tension he’d just created. “she told me she never really liked you. thought you’d have figured that out by now. why are you still sticking around?”

“sungchan,” minjeong snapped, her voice colder than ice now. “leave. now — before i knock your fucking teeth out of you.”

he finally seemed to realise he’d crossed a line, his grin faltering as he stood up. “jeez, okay. no need to bite my head off,” he set the coffee and croissant down on the table, muttering, “enjoy your project,” before walking off.

the silence that followed was deafening.

“did you really say that?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling just enough to betray how much it hurt.

she looked at you, her expression panicked for a split second before she forced herself to remain calm. “no,” she said firmly. “he’s lying. why would i do that?”

“so he just made that up?” you shot back, your tone harsher now. “out of nowhere?”

“yes,” she said, her voice steady but strained. “i never said that. i —” she hesitated, her gaze dropping to the table. “i wouldn’t say that about you, ever.”

you scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “great, so now i’m supposed to believe that, what? he’s just running around making up lies about you?”

“i don’t know,” she mumbled, her voice quieter now. “but i didn’t say it. you have to believe me.”

you stared at her for a long moment, searching her face for any hint of insincerity but she looked genuinely upset, her usual mask of indifference cracking just enough for you to see the guilt and frustration beneath it.

“whatever,” you muttered finally, looking away. “let’s just finish this stupid project.”

minjeong opened her mouth to respond, but then she closed it again, her shoulders slumping slightly. for the rest of the session, neither of you spoke unless it was directly about the project.

the air between you was heavier than ever, weighed down by everything that had been said — and left unsaid.

finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. you slammed your pen down on the table, the sharp sound cutting through the library’s quiet hum.

“do you think this is funny?” you snapped, your voice low but furious as you glared at her. “is this all just some game to you?”

she looked up, startled by your sudden outburst. “what are you talking about?”

“you,” you hissed, your chest heaving as your emotions boiled over. “you dump me in front of everyone, act like i don’t exist for months and now you’re back in my life, acting like you care? and on top of that, sungchan shows up and says you never liked me? are you fucking kidding me, minjeong?”

for once, she looked genuinely at a loss, her usual composure completely shattered.

“do you even realise how humiliating this is for me?” you continued, your voice trembling with anger. “i have been trying to move on, to forget about you and every time i feel like i’m getting somewhere, you show up and remind me of how much of an idiot i am for still caring about you!”

“you’re not an idiot,” she said quickly, her voice soft but desperate. “y/n, i —”

“then why?” you demanded, leaning forward, your eyes burning into hers. “why did you break up with me like that? why do you keep showing up, acting like you care and then pulling shit like this?”

minjeong stared at you, her jaw tight, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. for a moment, you thought she wouldn’t answer. then, she exhaled shakily, running a hand through her hair.

“because i’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “i was scared then and i’m scared now.”

you blinked, thrown off by her sudden vulnerability. “scared of what?”

“of how much you mean to me,” she said, her gaze dropping to the table. “of how much you’ve always meant to me. y/n, when we were together, you…you saw right through me. you knew me better than anyone else ever has and it terrified me. because if you could do that, if you could get that close, then you could hurt me in ways no one else ever could.”

her voice cracked slightly, and she swallowed hard before continuing. “so i pushed you away. i thought if i ended it, if i made you hate me, then i could protect myself but all i did was hurt you, and i hate myself for that.”

you stared at her, your anger fading into something closer to disbelief. “you broke up with me in front of everyone.”

“i know,” she trembled. “i know and it was cruel and i’ll never forgive myself for it. but i didn’t mean it. i didn’t mean any of it. i thought if i made it loud, if i made it final, then i’d stop feeling the way i do about you. but it didn’t work.”

you shook your head, trying to process her words. “then why did you let sungchan say all that crap? why didn’t you stop him?”

“because i didn’t know how,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “i didn’t know how to fix this, how to tell you everything i’ve been feeling. i thought it was too late.”

“it is too late,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “you can’t just come back into my life and expect me to forgive you for everything. it doesn’t work like that.”

minjeong nodded, her expression crumpling slightly. “i know. i don’t expect you to forgive me. but i need you to know that i never stopped caring about you. not for a second.”

her words hung in the air, heavy and raw. you looked at her, at the way her usual calm had completely unraveled and you didn’t know what to say.

part of you wanted to scream at her, to tell her that her feelings didn’t matter anymore.

“i don’t know if i can do this,” you said finally, your voice quieter now but no less firm. “i don’t know if i can trust you again.”

“i understand,” she looked down, fidgeting with the hem of shirt. “but i’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that i mean it. i’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

you didn’t say anything — you didn’t need to for now. instead, you turned your attention back to your notes, your chest tight with a mixture of anger and sadness. the girl across from you stayed silent after that, giving you the space you needed, but you could feel her presence beside you, heavy and unrelenting.

she had said all the things you’d once wanted to hear — things you’d longed for when she left you shattered in the middle of that hallway.

“y/n,” minjeong’s voice was quiet, hesitant. “please say something.”

you didn’t look at her. “there’s nothing to say.”

“you don’t believe me,” she said softly, more a statement than a question.

“no,” you admitted, your tone clipped. “i don’t.”

the words hung between you like a final nail in the coffin. minjeong opened her mouth to respond, but you were already standing, gathering your things with deliberate precision.

“where are you going?” she asked, panic flickering in her voice.

“home,” you said shortly. “i need to think.”

“what about the project?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.

you hesitated for a fraction of a second, then put your bag over your shoulder. “figure it out.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

for the next few days, you avoided her like the plague. you skipped the library sessions, ignored her texts and avoided her in class. when professor diaz asked about your progress on the project, you lied, saying you were working on it separately.

ryujin cornered you in the courtyard one afternoon, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed.

“what’s going on with you?” she demanded. “you’ve been weird all week.”

“nothing,” you replied, looking away.

“bullshit,” she snapped. “this is about minjeong, isn’t it?”

you didn’t answer, but your silence was enough.

“y/n,” she sighed, her tone softening. “you can’t keep running from this. i know she screwed up, okay? we all know that. but you need to deal with it instead of shutting everyone out.”

“i’m not shutting everyone out,” you defended yourself.”

“you’ve been avoiding her, skipping the library and now you’re lying to the professor about the project,” she listed off. “sounds like shutting everyone out to me.”

“it’s none of your business,” you muttered, brushing past her.

“actually, it is,” a new voice chimed in. you turned to see beomgyu and yeji approaching, both looking equally concerned. “because now we have to deal with mopey minjeong asking about you.”

“she’s not —” you started, but beomgyu cut you off.

“oh, she is,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “she asked me yesterday if you’d said anything about her. looked like a kicked puppy when i told her no.”

“you’re being dramatic,” you muttered, but your resolve was weakening.

“he’s not,” yeji said firmly. “and honestly, y/n, it’s exhausting watching you both avoid each other when clearly there’s so much unresolved.”

“i’m done with her,” you admitted, though the words felt hollow even to you.

“are you?” ryujin challenged, her eyes narrowing. “because you don’t look done. you look hurt. and if you keep bottling this up, it’s only going to get worse.”

on the other side of campus, minjeong was facing her own intervention. her friends had dragged her to the gazebo, refusing to let her leave until they got answers.

“spill,” jimin demanded, leaning forward with her arms crossed. “what’s going on with you and y/n?”

“nothing,” minjeong muttered, staring at the ground.

“oh, please,” aeri rolled her eyes. “you’ve been moping around like someone stole your dog. what happened?”

minjeong sighed, running a hand through her hair. “i…told her how i felt.”

“and?” yizhuo prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“and she doesn’t believe me,” she admitted, her voice small.

jimin groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “well, can you blame her? you broke her heart in front of the entire university, minjeong, and when she chased you around, you ran faster.”

“and you’ve been cold and distant ever since,” aeri added. “what did you expect? that she’d just fall back into your arms the moment you said you cared?”

“i wasn’t expecting anything,” minjeong said defensively. “i just…i wanted her to know the truth.”

“okay, so you told her,” yizhuo shrugged. “now what?”

“she’s avoiding me,” minjeong responded, her voice cracking slightly. “she won’t answer my texts or show up for the project. i don’t know what to do.”

“maybe start by actually communicating,” jimin suggested dryly. “you know, instead of expecting her to read your mind.”

“and stop being so passive,” aeri chimed in. “if you want her to believe you, you need to show her. actions, not just words.”

“but what if it’s too late?” minjeong asked, her voice trembling. “what if she doesn’t want me anymore?”

jimin sighed, her expression softening. “then you’ll have to accept that. but at least you’ll know you tried.”

“i’m just going to drink my heart out.”

the sun was just beginning to set, casting a soft orange glow over the campus as you made your way toward the stairs that led home. the day had been long and all you wanted was to collapse into bed. as you reached the top of the stairs, you spotted jimin, aeri and yizhuo waiting for you like a trio of judgmental guardians.

“great,” you muttered under your breath, already preparing for whatever nonsense they were about to throw your way.

“y/n,” jimin said, stepping forward with a raised eyebrow, “we need to talk.”

“can’t it wait?” you asked, brushing past her, but aeri stepped in your way, blocking your path with her arms crossed.

“it’s about minjeong,” aeri said flatly, her piercing gaze locking on yours.

that stopped you in your tracks. you didn’t look at them, but your stomach twisted in knots. “what about her?”

yizhuo sighed dramatically, leaning against the stone railing. “she’s at joe’s juice joint. drinking.”

“on a tuesday night,” jimin added, mirroring aeri’s stance. “because word has it that a certain someone has been avoiding her.”

you scoffed. “i don’t care what she does.”

“she’s been there since this afternoon,” aeri said, raising an eyebrow. “she’s refusing to leave and we’ve had her guards attempt to pick her up.”

“because of you,” yizhuo chimed in, her voice unusually serious. “she thinks you’re done with her.”

you rolled your eyes, clutching the strap of your bag tighter. “she brought this on herself.”

“she did,” jimin agreed, stepping closer. “but she’s still hurting. and whether you want to admit it or not, you care about her.”

“why don’t you pick her up then?” you shot back, but your voice wavered slightly, betraying your frustration.

“because,” yizhuo shook her head. “it’s not us she’s been crying about. trust me, we’ve tried.”

that stung.

the three of them watched you expectantly, their expressions a mixture of smugness and concern.

finally, you let out a defeated sigh. “fine, i’ll go and talk to her.”

“thank you,” aeri smiled, stepping aside. “and while you’re at it, remind her that drowning her sorrows in alcohol isn’t a personality trait.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the bar was dimly lit, the scent of citrus and wood polish thick in the air. it wasn’t crowded, but the familiar hum of chatter and soft music filled the space. you scanned the room quickly, your heart sinking when you spotted her in the far corner.

minjeong sat slouched in her chair, one arm resting lazily on the table while the other clutched a half-empty glass of whiskey. her blazer hung off her shoulders, her usually neat blonde hair slightly disheveled.

she looked up as you approached, her eyes widening briefly before she looked away, taking a long sip from her drink.

“minjeong,” you called out, voice firm. “what are you doing here?”

she didn’t answer right away, swirling the liquid in her glass. “drinking.”

“on a tuesday night?” you pressed, sitting down across from her. “this isn’t like you.”

she snorted, the sound bitter. “maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

“cut the bullshit, minjeong,” you said sharply. “why are you here?”

she set her glass down with a thud, her lips trembling slightly. “because you won’t talk to me,” she said, her voice cracking. “because i miss you, y/n. i miss you so much and it hurts.”

her words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you refused to let your guard down. her usually cold demeanour was gone, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

“you don’t get to say that,” you clenched your jaw. “you don’t get to sit here and cry about how much you miss me after what you did.”

she winced, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “i know, y/n. and i hate myself for it. i hate that i hurt you, that i pushed you away. but i didn’t know what else to do.”

“so you thought breaking my heart in front of everyone was the solution?” you snapped, your voice trembling. “you made me feel like i didn’t matter to you, minjeong. like i was nothing.”

“you were everything,” she said, her voice desperate. “that’s what scared me. i thought…if i ended it, i’d protect myself. but all i did was destroy the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“winter —” you started, but she cut you off, her eyes finally meeting yours.

“you have every reason to hate me,” she said, her voice breaking. “but i can’t stop thinking about you. i don’t want anyone else. i just want you, for the rest of my life, i’m certain i want you.”

her confession left you stunned, the sincerity in her voice breaking down the walls you’d so carefully built. you didn’t realise how much you’d needed to hear those words until now.

“you really hurt me,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t know if i can trust you again.”

“let me earn it,” she said, her eyes pleading. “please, y/n. give me another chance. i’ll do whatever it takes.”

her words lingered in the air, and for a moment, you hesitated; part of you wanted to walk away and protect yourself from getting hurt again.

but you loved her.

“fine,” you said finally, your voice soft. “but you’re going to have to work for it. and right now, we’re getting you out of here.”

to your surprise, she didn’t hesitate. she grabbed her blazer, threw it over her shoulders and clung to your arm as you guided her out of the bar, her grip firm as if she was afraid you’d let go.

“you don’t have to do this,” she mumbled, her voice slurred. “you don’t owe me anything.”

“you’re right,” you said, guiding her through the door. “but someone has to make sure you don’t end up passed out on the sidewalk.”

she let out a weak laugh, her fingers tightening around your arm. “you’re too good to me.”

“don’t push it,” you muttered, but the corners of your lips twitched.

when you reached the car, she refused to let go of your hand. even as you opened the door for her, she tugged you closer, pressing soft, clumsy kisses to your knuckles.

“minjeong,” you said, your voice tinged with exasperation. “get in the car.”

“i don’t deserve you,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your skin. “but i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you this time.”

you sighed, your heart twisting as you gently pried her hands off yours and helped her into the passenger seat.

the ride to her mansion was cloaked in a heavy silence, save for the occasional sniffle from her. her head rested gently on your shoulder, her fingers entwined with yours.

the gesture felt intimate, almost too much for the charged air between you, but you didn’t pull away. you weren’t sure if it was to comfort her or yourself.

“i missed you,” she began, planting another gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “i wish i told you sooner.”

you hummed, nodding as you pulled up to the gates of her mansion. “i wish you did too.”

minjeong didn’t move. her gaze was fixed on your joined hands, her thumb absentmindedly tracing circles over your skin. she let out a shaky breath, her lips parting as if to speak but no words came.

“winter?” you prompted softly, your brows knitting together in concern.

she finally looked up at you, her eyes glossy and filled with something raw, vulnerable. “i don’t want to go inside,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

you tilted your head. “why not?”

“because…” she hesitated, her grip on your hand tightening slightly. “because i don’t want to be alone.”

her words hit you square in the chest, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. her eyes searched yours and then, hesitantly, she leaned forward just slightly, her breath warm against your lips.

she stopped, hovering close, her needy voice barely audible. “can i kiss you? please?”

the question made your heart stutter. the vulnerability in her voice; you could see how much this moment mattered to her, how much she was holding herself back, waiting for your permission.

“minjeong,” you let out a shaky breath; unsure. “you’ve been drinking. you’re not sober and i don’t want to take advantage of you.”

she shook her head quickly, her fingers tightening around yours. “it’s not like that,” she pleaded, her voice cracking slightly. “i know what i’m asking. this isn’t the alcohol talking. it’s me — your winter, remember?”

you stared at her, your chest tightening as her words settled over you. “are you sure?”

“please,” she whispered, leaning just a little closer. “just one kiss. i need you to know how much you mean to me.”

then you nodded, your voice barely audible as you said, “okay.”

the relief on her face was instant. she leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. her warm lips brushed against yours softly, hesitantly, as if she was afraid of pushing too far. her hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin in a gentle, almost praising way.

her tongue darted out to meet yours, hesitant at first but growing bolder as the kiss grew more intense. your tongues danced together, a rhythm of unspoken words and emotions too overwhelming to say aloud.

her fingers moved to cup your face, thumbs brushing against your skin as if she was trying to memorise the feel of you.

she wasn’t just kissing you — she was apologising, pleading and pouring every unspoken word into the way her lips moved against yours.

you hummed softly against her lips, your hands finding their way to her waist and pulling her closer. she smiled when your skin pressed against hers letting your arm snake around her body.

and once minjeong was no longer content with just that, she shifted in her seat, climbing over the console until she was straddling you in the driver’s seat. her knees pressed against the sides of the chair, her body fitting perfectly against yours as her hands tangled in your hair.

the kiss turned hungrier, more desperate, as if she was afraid this moment might slip away. her fingers pulled your hair slightly as her lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your heart race.

your hands slid up her back, pressing her closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

“minjeong,” you murmured against her lips, your voice breathless but she silenced you with another kiss, her lips capturing yours in a way that made your head spin. “this isn’t one kiss.”

“please don’t push me away,” she whispered between kisses, her voice trembling. “i’ll prove it to you, y/n. i’ll prove that i can be better. just…don’t let me go.”

your hands gripped her waist, anchoring her to you. “i’m not pushing you away,” you replied softly, your lips brushing against hers. “but this doesn’t fix everything.”

“i know,” she mumbled quickly, her forehead resting against yours. “but i miss you, i’m sorry.”

you kissed her again, slower this time, more deliberate. your tongues moved together in the same rhythm, her hands trailing down to your shoulders, her touch lingering as if she was afraid you might vanish.

when you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads still pressed together. her eyes fluttered open and she looked at you with so much adoration in her eyes.

“come inside,” she whispered, her voice soft but insistent. “please, stay with me tonight.”

“okay,” you pressed a kiss against her cheek, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “let’s go.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end.

#kpop x reader #aespa x reader #aespa #aespa imagines #winter x reader #kim minjeong #minjeong x reader #kpop gg #kpop imagines

158 notes · View notes

insidekatmind · 2 days ago

Text

Christmas in Sharm el-Sheikh-Jude Bellingham

wearning:+18,smut

The scent of the Egyptian sea mixed with the sweet aroma of coconut and vanilla that you emanated every time you moved. The warm, light air caressed your skin, while the sun kissed every inch of your body. Sharm el-Sheikh was the perfect setting for your Christmas getaway, an oasis of peace away from the chaos of the world.

Jude watched you from the next deck, sunglasses lowered over his nose to admire you better. You wore a white bikini that stood out your golden skin from the sun, and every move you made seemed to be done to provoke it. His lips curled in a mischievous smile.

"If you keep moving like that, baby, I swear I’ll get you out of here," he said in that husky voice that made you melt every time.

You turned to him, the dark sunglasses concealed your eyes, but the smile you threw at him was more than eloquent.

"Take me away?" you taunted him, biting your lower lip slightly.

He leaned forward, taking off his sunglasses and staring at you with those dark eyes that had caught you from day one. He approached slowly, never taking his eyes off yours, and when he was close enough to make you feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, I whispered: "In a room where I can finally have you all to myself."

Your heart was beating hard in your chest. The electricity between you was palpable, and the sweet and sensual tension became more intense. With a smile of defiance, you rose from the deck and reached out to him.

"Then what are we waiting for, Bellingham?" you asked, tilting your head to the side with a provocative air.

Jude’s eyes were burning with desire. He seized your hand with a firm grasp and stood up, high and imposing before you. The people around him were gone. For him, it was just you.

You walked together to the resort, with him holding your hand as if he never wanted to let go. His fingers touched yours with a sweetness that contrasted with the intensity of his gaze.

When we got to the room, Jude closed the door with one foot and gently pushed you against the wall. He locked your face in his hands, thumbs touching your cheeks with infinite sweetness.

"Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?" he muttered, moving his forehead closer to yours. "Since we booked these holidays. I couldn’t wait to be alone with you."

His words made you shiver. You wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer to you.

"What are you waiting for?" you whisper, challenging him with a smile.

Jude did not reply with words. He kissed you. It was a slow, deep kiss, full of emotion and desire held back for too long. His soft lips moved patiently on yours, as if he wanted to savor every second. His hands fell down your sides, caressing you with ease, taking all the time of the world.

His fingers stopped on your hips and squeezed them slightly, as if he wanted to imprint in memory every curve of your body. When he broke from your lips, his eyes were dark with desire.

"Do you have any idea how much you drive me crazy?" he whispered with his forehead still against yours, his voice low and hoarse.

You put on your toes, touching his ear with your lips.

"Show me, Jude," you answered with a whisper.

No need to repeat it. He took you in his arms with a fluid movement and carried you to bed. He laid you gently on the pillows, with the delicacy of someone who handles something precious. His eyes never left yours, not even for a second.

"You have no idea how much I want you," he muttered, his hands moving along your bare legs, caressing you with an exasperating slowness. "Every time I look at you, I wonder how I ever earned a girl like you."

"Maybe you earned it," you replied, trying to control the frantic heartbeat.

Jude laughed softly, that low and sexy laugh that made you crazy.

"If so, then I want to earn it every day," he said, stooping over you to steal another kiss.

Enter into you in one shot and groan. "fuck babydoll always so tight for me" groan to his words and raise your hips to take more. Feel his muscles tense against you and whine wanting to hear more.

"Jude don’t hold back and just please me" you murmured.

Jude moans at your words starting to fuck you faster. You could feel his body pressed against yours as he holds you against his body and you scratch his back asking for more.

Jude smiled enjoying your reaction and this thing only stimulates him and fucks you even faster. In the room of the tree you could only hear the sound of your wet skin, your deep breaths and his cock coming in and out of your wet pussy.

"Jude" you moaned as you clung more to his back. He grunts and pushes even faster.

"you look, do you like it? you like it when I fuck your brain and make you scream my name like a bitch in need,hm? Jude murmured and every thing he said increased his impulses, sending you ever closer to his deliverance.

"Yes daddy" you cry without realizing too drunk by his cock that was making you enjoy so much.

Jude moans at your words, feeling a surge of power and desire for how you were submitting to him. Start pushing even faster inside you that you didn’t even feel your pussy anymore, only the pleasure it was giving you.

"Damn you, baby, you’re gonna make me lose all control. I’ll give you whatever you want, baby. You’re gonna take my dick, you doll?" grunts as it pushes even harder inside you and you scream of pleasure nodding. "si daddy whatever you want".

Jude’s rhythm accelerates as he senses that you were very close. Your desperate cries feed his desire. He penetrates you ever more deeply, his body moves with a primordial retraction. You screamed loudly as you clenched closer to him.

"so beautiful Jude, give me more" beg him and he grunts. "yes darling, you want more,huh? you want it even stronger and faster? He said, pushing even more and you could feel the bed beneath you as it was moving.

"you’ll take everything I give you like the good girl that you are, yes?" he muttered increasing the pushes and you screamed more scratching his back.

Jude hearing your cries smiled loving the way you were giving yourself to him. It moves faster and stronger, giving you everything you ask for and more. He is lost in the moment watching you while he fucked you, consumed by the need to claim you and make you all his own.

"yeah baby, you’re so good for me. You’re taking it so good, aren’t you? you’re gonna take all I have to give you, right?" Jude groans to you and you whine at his words and nod as he scratches his back again.

He groans deeply as you cling to him with your nails that sink back into his back. The pain and pleasure that this action was giving him increased his need for Jude and was bringing him close to the limit.

"you darling, what a good girl you are for me" mumbles Jude exhilarated and you moan "only your daddy" you say crying of pleasure.

He feels a wave of possession overwhelm him at your words, the claim of ownership both pleasing and empowering. He looks into your eyes, his gaze becomes even more intense and darker.

"Damn right you’re mine, baby. Mine and only mine. No one else is gonna touch you like so. No one. You’re all mine, aren’t you?" He grunts as he puts his hand on your throat and keeps fucking you and you groan.

"All your daddy" you say moaning as you look at your boyfriend.

Hearing your confirmation of his submission feeds his need to fill you with your cum. Jude feels a surge of power and pleasure over you, loving the way you submit to him completely. It draws you more to itself, its voice is a possessive growl while it speaks to you at the horcrick.

"That’s right, baby. You’re all mine.My good,sweet,obedient,girl. You’re mine to touch, mine to claim, mine to protect and cherish. Mine, damn. All mine. Say it again" groans at his words.

"All your daddy. Nobody can compare to you" you mumbled.

Jude’s heart beats to your words, kisses you fiercely as his hands grip your hips while he slams faster inside you making you cum on his cock. After two more hits, Jude also reaches his climax and kisses you softly.

After he cleaned you up he took you in your arms and gave you sweet kisses all over your face.

The rest of the afternoon was spent between smothered laughter and sweet whispers, slow caresses and kisses that never seemed enough. The hours seemed to stop while you enjoyed each other’s presence, far from the world, as if time itself had decided to give you a break just for you two.

Later, as the sun set over the horizon and golden light filtered through the curtains of the room, you found yourself hugged, with his head resting on your shoulder and his arms wrapped around you.

"I don’t want it to end," he whispered against your skin, kissing your neck softly.

"It will never end, Jude," you replied, caressing his hair with your fingers. "Wherever we go, there’ll always be you and me."

He lifted himself slightly to look you in the eye, and you saw that spark of sweetness and love that he reserved only for you.

"I love you," he said, with a disarming sincerity that made your heart tighten.

"I love you too, Jude," you answered without hesitation.

He bowed down to kiss you again, more tenderly this time, as if he wanted to imprint in that kiss all he felt for you. And at that moment, it mattered neither the sea nor the sun nor the world outside of that room.

It was just the two of you, and that was all you needed.

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theartofwoompwoomp · 2 days ago

Text

I never knew we could coexist together

Shadow x reader

Summary : shadow is surprised to learns that humans understand grief. And he learns it from the human that’s the most tolerable and happiest in his life.

———————————————————————

“Do you really think you could ever understand.”

His voice ragged and tight from the anger. There’s no way anyone could understand what he lost. Especially not you…

You have everything. A happy family, friends, a place in this world.

he had nothing…

Sure others may have accepted him, yet it has never been the same and it hasn’t ever taken the pain.

Someone as happy as you wouldn’t and shouldn’t ever understand his pain.

His grip getting tighter in his hand, he can feel himself shaking a bit as he lowers his eyes to the ground.

He feels bad for snapping at you. He wasn’t expecting to have all his pent up anger explode on you. Finally the shame starts crawling it’s way and he was getting ready to leave. He didn’t want to see your face.

Not right now, when he feels so angry with you even though you’re the only one thats stuck around.

All his emotions are spinning all over his head just waiting for another opportunity to explode, and he does not want you to be at the end of it.

Without saying anything else, he keeps his head down as he turns to leave.

But just as he’s a few steps away his are is pulled back quite forcefully towards you again.

“What do you think you’re doing—“

You hugged him.

Holding tight making sure you won’t let go of him. He tenses a bit not fully processing what you’re doing.

Why are still trying? Why do you still care even if he hurt you? He doesn’t deserve you.

Before he realizes it, he’s holding you close as well.

Nothing is said between either of you, he’s simply shaking a bit in your arms as you rub his back a bit.

Memories come back to him. Those of maria, his actions, and of you.

Small tears roll down his cheeks but he could care less at the moment. “It hurts.” His voice broken and tired from all the pain that never goes away.

You hugged him a bit tighter as you whisper a bit into his ears, “I know shads, i know.” Not daring to let go or abandon him in this moment, you wait it out. Feeling your own tears slowly dropping as well as his cries intensify.

He feels like he just got ran over, but at least you’re still there, holding him. Both of you more calmed down from the whole ordeal.

He finally decides to let go from your embrace and you let him.

He sits on the ground and you follow along and sit next to him. Just waiting to see who’ll be the first to speak.

Surprisingly after a few minutes shadow softly starts speaking, “i don’t want to talk about it.” His brows furrow a bit, “i appreciate your kindness, but I don’t like speaking about my pain.”

He feels you caress his hand. “That’s okay,” holding it firmly when turns it offering you to continue your action of affection, “i understand that pain can be hard to share.”

He turns to see you, eyes glazing over you face wondering what ever could have caused you pain to make that expression.

“You might be surprised but humans suffer from many things. Some of us are just a little better at pretending nothing’s wrong.”

“Doesn’t it hurt to do that?”

You look over, seeing his worry through his eyes. “Of course it does. Suffering is always painful.” Your eyes and hands never leaving one another. Sharing more emotions this way than any words could describe.

You lean a bit onto him, “but you know,” he reciprocates as you continue, “i think that’s a reason why there’s so many of us in the first place. Maybe so we could help each other through the pain… it’s too bad many seem forget the value of this”

He shifts a bit as he feels you move again. This time you’re kneeling a bit in front of him.

“That’s why I’m so glad that I at least have you in my life.”

His heart twinges a bit, feeling guilty for trying to ever push you away. And you notice it before he even says anything.

“Please don’t shut me out,” you’re hugging him again.

And he hugs you back, holding you softly as he feels your breath on his shoulder. Your actions and words melting all the doubt and numbing the pain. He’s comforted knowing that you’re not going nowhere, staying right there with him.

“Im glad that it’s you, and not anyone else at my side.”

———————————————————————

masterlist

#Aggggh i love this pair so much #Really wrote this from a random thought lol def not proof read #shadow x reader #sonic x reader #sonic fandom #shadow the ultimate lifeform #comfort #comfort fic #angst #fluff #sunshine x grumpy #sonic #sonic movie 3 #shadow the hedgehog #sth x reader #year of shadow

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avelera · 18 hours ago

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(Arcane Meta) Anomaly Future Jayce Might Have Surrendered to Viktor

It's really fun to speculate on what might have gone differently in the Anomaly Future vs. the Canon Events of the final battle between Jayce and Viktor, such that Wizard Viktor needed to give Jayce some warning when he got sent back to prevent those events.

Obviously, Anomaly Universe Jayce, or AU!Jayce as we'll call him for shorthand, failed. But when did he fail is a really intriguing question!

And I saw a really intriguing theory on Twitter that the flash of memory Jayce has where he thinks back to just before he shot Viktor and instead of Viktor being afraid of him, he's smiling, wasn't because Jayce was sentimentally imagining a Viktor who was happy to see him, but it might have actually been a received vision from AU Jayce about the moment he lost, and it was the moment he came to the commune and Viktor smiled at him (that goddamn simp).

The thing is, I think we can tell from Jayce's resolve and the fact he's fighting so hard with himself through Act 2 and 3 whenever Viktor is around, that it would be really, really easy for him to give in to Viktor. If anything, Jayce would be 1,000x happier if he could just give in and be with his partner for the last 3 months before the damn world ends, that Jayce is a much happier Jayce, but he can't, not just because the world ends, but because it will leave Viktor in a fate worse than death as the only thing alive in a dead world.

But this also implies that in most other universes, Jayce willingly gave in so what does that look like?

Well, I think it looks a bit like this:

Notice that the circular "swirl" around AU!Jayce is behind him, as if the point of entry is in front of him.

Also notice we don't have the top of his head anymore, so we don't know what the marks on his forehead looked like.

Canon!Jayce's forehead marks are from the top of his head, facing down, because Viktor ambushes him from behind to put his hand there.

In theory though, AU!Jayce could have them facing up just like Viktor's other followers, because he accepted those marks while face-to-face and then, the force of his conversion creates that the swirl behind him, the branches of corruption sprouting from his back look as if something is blasting him from the front, pushing the effects backwards.

Which means, that AU!Jayce didn't flee from Viktor and then pause to pick up his hammer as Canon!Jayce did.

AU!Jayce is kneeling in front of Viktor, in what could be an act of surrender, or even an act of worship genuflecting to Viktor as a superior, or as they fulfill the final stage of their shared plan, only for it to tragically end in AU!Jayce's utter destruction as an individual and essentially his death.

Anyway, I've been very intrigued by that swirl pattern around AU!Jayce and this is my speculation about what it is, besides fucking cool looking and a gorgeous artistic flare. Lemme know what you think!

#arcane #arcane meta #jayvik #jayce talis #wizard viktor #viktor arcane

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lucygraysboy · 3 days ago

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“sixty days, and we’ll see each other again here,” the cowboy muses in agreement, trying to sound cheerful and optimistic even as his heart begins to protest — SIXTY days! that’s an eternity! and a lot can happen in sixty days! but he refuses to dwell on it now, focusing on making some wonderful memories that will hopefully make the separation less painful. he puts on his playful demeanor once more, eyes slightly bloodshot and swollen but already lighting up. “lucy gray? lucy gray, where are you?” he pretends not to see her, glancing around and stifling a smile. their height difference will never not amuse him. she’s so petite that he feels like a giant next to her. “oh!” he eventually looks down, beaming because it’s impossible not to. “here you are, little dove! giddy up.” he crouches down as her slender arm coils around his neck, figuring it may be easier for her climb onto his back if he’s not standing straight. once she’s behind him, his calloused hands ready to take hold of her thighs, his own expression drops. just for a moment. life’s so unfair, he thinks to himself. but before he can tear up all over again, she laughing and calling him a sailor. he’s more than happy to play along, as most who never got to be actual children would be. it was fun to play house with her teddy bears and dolls last night and it’s fun to pretend they’re in a fairytale now.

“that reminds me… my ma used to read me this tale when i was little. it was ‘bout a mermaid and a prince, written by this danish author, but i don’t remember his name.” hans christian andersen. “it begins when a birthday celebration. the handsome prince is celebrating his birthday on a ship, dancing, feasting, all that stuff. but then an awfully vicious storm appears out of nowhere. it wrecks the ship. the mermaid saves this prince from drowning and falls in love with him, but unfortunately can’t be with him as they belong in two different worlds. she watches him from afar, but the prince doesn’t remember her when he regains consciousness, doesn’t know he’s alive thanks to her, so it makes the whole ordeal even more tragic. but she loves him so much that she’s willing to gain a human soul, become a human, just to be with him. in this tale, mermaids live longer than humans, they live up to 300 years, but then they turn to sea foam and simply cease existing. humans, on the other hand, live shorter lives on earth but have ethereal souls that carry on in heaven, right? and so she goes to this sea witch and asks for help. the witch tries tellin’ her that the mission’s doomed and she will never make the prince fall in love with her. but the little mermaid begs and pleads, and the witch eventually prepares a potion for her, one that will give her legs and in exchange for her voice. oh, i forgot to mention that, but the mermaid is a lot like you, lucy gray. she’s got the most beautiful voice in the world. and it’s a big sacrifice but she still drinks the potion and it does give her two human legs and the ability to dance as no human has ever danced before. in a way that mesmerizes everyone. however, the pain of losing her tail never leaves her and so she constantly feels as if she’s walking on sharp knives, and her feet bleed terribly. it’s such a heartbreakingly beautiful tale. you ever heard of it?” he wonders aloud, picking her up and slowly walking over to the little shore.

visage softened into a sympathetic look, rubbing his back until he's all cried out. it must all be a lot for him, what a weight he's carrying on his shoulders– and to all be so young. so he can cry for as long as he wants to, she'll soothe away all the tears, she thinks to herself. fingers gently brushing through dark curls with her other hand, index finger twirling dark waves around it. a boy too sweet to be so tortured, it makes her angry. "i'd never had a friend like you either, sweetheart. you're one of a kind." a special star, shining the brightest in a darkened sky full of stars twinkling but none shine like he does. "alright, i'll count it down then. sixty days and i'll meet you here. here will be perfect." their spot. "yes, it will." agreeing firmly as a small smile pulls at her lips when his nose bumping into hers tickles and little dove. like in poems, and through lord's prayer. she'll pray each night he stays safe through these dangerous terrains out by his lonesome, because until he returns, she'll be worried sick. the feeling of tender thumbs on her cheeks causing a warm swirl of butterflies fluttering through out her chest, wishing she could chase the feeling forever. no male's touch had ever been so kind and soft, she wasn't used to it and for that– it felt even more emotional. it nearly puts her in a trance until he stands, eyes peering up at his offered hand.

trusting he won't let her drown, hand places in his bigger one and she rises to her feet. standing at chest height in front of him. just a few steps over to reach the water again and arm gingerly curls around his neck once lucy gray gets behind him. a saddened look she was hiding on her face revealing itself once she's hidden behind him, little does he know– burning with an urge to kiss him too but biting her lip to keep from acting on it. she doesn't want to in fear of losing him, her emotions can't get attached to no one like that. "thanks, sailor. what a kind human you are for givin' a little ole mermaid like me a ride." lucy gray gently laughs, loving how her imagination gets to live in that childlike imaginative state of mind again because of him and willing to play.

#billysgirllol #PLS THIS IS SUCH AN EPIC LOVE STORY IM NEVER GETTING OVER IT!!!#and also the OG lil mermaid was published in europe in 1837 and became popular fast :') so his ma being irish definitely heard / read it #and the og story isnt cute like the disneys version I DID RESEARCH :')))) so :')))) bye #ALSO I HAD THIS IDEA i might dm you on insta regarding it but WHAT IF she doesnt come with him after this week? and then they do meet in #THEIR SPOT after those sixty days but THEN somethings wrong and something happens and they end up riding off into the sunset together?#*THINKING EMOJIS* JUST AN IDEA FJSDNKF

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fluff-lover · 3 days ago

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Healing Touch | Chapter 4: Trauma

Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Story summary: You’re a new member of the X-Men. Your mutation allows you to heal other people: you can close any wound, and cure any sickness. You’re not a fighter at all, but you’re useful at the battle field when it comes to saving injured mutants.

Masterlist

It’s been three days since the incident and you’ve hardly left your room. No one in the mansion blamed you. You were still shaken up, so they took turns to bring you water and food. Ororo, Jean and Rogue would stayed to keep you company for a little bit every once in a while, just to make sure you were fine.

You were alive, that much was true, but you wouldn’t say you were fine.

Despite being an X-Men you never experienced much violence. You were a lover, not a fighter. So when you suddenly got stabbed -by your friend, no less- you were shocked. The memory haunted you: the way your blood ran down Logan’s arms and pooled in the couch, the searing pain of his claws, the choking sensation as your own blood filled your throat… That kind of trauma would change anyone. As much as it pained you to admit it, for a fleeting moment you had been afraid of him.

And Logan…

The pure horror in his eyes when he snapped open and saw you bleeding. You could still hear his anguished cry¡ies out for help as he held your limp body on the couch. You were the one wounded yet you wanted to comfort him, to reassure him you were fine and not mad at him.

But he had run.

You didn’t know how to feel about him running away. Was he scared? Wracked with guilt? Did he think you’d died?... The questions broke your heart. You wanted to see him, to talk to him, but at the same time you weren’t sure if you should be afraid of him or not. He never meant to hurt you, you knew that, but he did and you hoped someday you’d be able to move past it.That is, if you ever saw him again. He was nowhere to be found.

Curled up on your bed, your face buried in a tear-stained pillow, you could only think about him. Was he safe? He’d left with nothing, not even a bag. The uncertainty made you cry harder.

Not knowing made you cry more.

There was a soft knock on your door and then Jean stepped in.

“Hey hun.” She said sitting down on your bed next to you.

“Any news?” Your voice just above a whisper.

Jean smiled kindly and nodded.

“We got a location. Scott and some others are heading out.” She replied. Charles had been working extra hard with Cerebro to locate Logan.

“What if he doesn’t want to come back?” You asked and sniffled.

“I’m sure he will, once he knows you’re okay and miss him.” She reassured you. “They’ll find a way to bring him back, I’m sure of it.”

“You should go with them.” You said. “If there’s anyone that he would do anything for, it’s you.” You added. It was no secret that Logan would follow Jean to the end of the world if she asked.

A flicker of something crossed Jean’s eyes, and she quickly looked away.

“It’s not like that.” the redhead said.

“He loves you.” You sobbed. “You know it, I know it, even your fiancé knows it.”

Jean gave you a pitiful look and sighed, she knew how you felt about him. She didn’t need to read your mind to know you were head over heels for him. It was easy to open up to Jean, even if she was the cause of your jealousy and envy. Even if you wanted to hate her, you couldn’t.

“He’s never gonna love me back, but I don’t care about that now… I just want to fix things. Do you think I’m stupid for loving him after what he did?” You asked shyly. It was a question that had been plaguing you lately.

Jean took a moment to think and then shook her head.

“Love makes us all do stupid things, but the act itself of loving someone is never stupid.” Jean said while rubbing your arm soothingly, like a mother comforting a frightened child.

“I feel like I should be scared of him.” You confessed. “But I’m more terrified of the idea of never seeing him again.”

“Logan’s life is filled with violence, but I can assure you he never meant to hurt you. And he’d hate for you to be afraid of him.” She reassured you.

“Please bring him home.” You pleaded.

“We will. And I promise we won’t come back without him.”

“I’m cutting you off.” The bartender said as he pushed Logan’s glass away.

“The hell you are!” Logan said, baring his teeth.

“You had enough. It’s time to go.”

Logan let out a low snarl and dropped some money on the bartop. Usually he would put up a fight, but tonight he was exhausted. The last few days were nothing but hopping from one bar to the other to get fucked up until they either closed or kicked him out. The rest of his time he spent it in a small motel room. He didn’t get much sleep though, everytime he closed his eyes he had nightmares of you dying in his arms. Not only he remembered that moment over and over again, but each time it got worse, more violent, more desperate.

He stumbled out of the bar and made his way to his motel room, his mind clouded by guilt and alcohol. As he pulled out the key and fumbled with the keys, he realized he had to get his shit together. He would run out of money soon, his healing factor burned through liquor faster than his wallet could keep up. Logan mulled over his options. Maybe he could go back to cage fighting? or go back to Canada?...

Just as he stepped into the room, everything went black.

The next thing he knew he was inside a moving vehicle. He groaned, the back of his head hurting a lot.

“The fuck…?”

“I think he’s waking up.” A voice said. It took him a moment, but Logan recognized that voice.

“Rogue?” Logan sat up and looked around the large car, his vision clearing after a moment. He was in a car with Rogue and Colossus, Scott and Jean in the front seats. And of all things, they were riding in a ridiculously looking Honda Odyssey.

“How are you feeling? We were worried Colossus hittoo hard on you.” Rogue said.

“What the fuck happened?” Logan asked, confused. “Did you punch me?” He asked, this time specifically to Colossus. The other mutant had the decency of looking ashamed.

“We didn’t think you’d come willingly.” He explained.

“What the fuck is going on? Where are you taking me?” Logan pressed.

“Back to the mansion.” Jean replied.

“No, you’re fucking not.” Logan protested.

“Colossus, can you punch him again?” Scott asked.

“Hasn’t it occurred to you that I don’t want to go back to the mansion?”

“Logan, this is ridiculous.” Rogue said. “The mansion is your home, you belong there.” Logan looked away. The mansion was the first place he could remember feeling like home. After a moment he managed to clear his head and gather enough courage to talk again.

“I can’t go back… What about Angel? Is she… Is she okay?”

Rogue smiled softly and nodded her head.

“She’s fine. She healed right away, actually. Barely left a mark.”

The relief Logan felt in that moment was like taking a deep breath after minutes under water.

“She wants to see you.” Jean said, catching Logan’s attention. “She’s been miserable since you left.”

“Isn’t she afraid of me?” Logan asked almost shyly. “She should be.”

“No. She’s afraid of losing her friend, though.” Jean replied.

Guilt filled Logan once again.

“I never meant to hurt her.” He grumbled.

“We know, and she knows it too.” Rogue reassured him.

“But you did hurt her, so now you have to apologize and fix it.” Scott said. Jean rolled her eyes and turned to look at Logan over her seat.

“Listen, you belong with us, with the X-Men. You made a mistake and someone got hurt, but that doesn’t mean you have to leave. This is still your home. And Angel is still your friend. She made me promise we would find you and bring you back.”

“She did?” Logan asked incredulously and Jean nodded.

“Mhmm, like I said, she’s really sad, and she misses you. She hasn’t left her room since you left.”

Logan didn’t know what to say. The thought of you being sad because of his absence made something stir in his chest.

Once they arrived at their destination and got out of the car, Logan looked at the mansion with hesitation. He didn’t think he would be back here, let alone to face you.

“Just an advice…” Scott said as he walked past him. “Take a shower and put on some clean clothes, you look and smell like crap.”

Logan growled.

“Thank you, Summers.” He said sarcastically.

Despite his annoyment, Logan did follow Scott’s advice and got himself presentable. He never took so long to get ready before but that’s because he was stalling. He didn’t know what he would say or do once he saw you. His hands shook as he buttoned up his shirt and he felt like a teenager before prom… but worse.

Logan could face lots of villains with infinite power, yet he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you. You. Little, sweet angelic you. His friend.

With a groan and nothing left to do, Logan stepped out of his room and headed to yours.

To his surprise you weren’t in your room. He knocked several times but no one answered. At first he thought you were ignoring him.

Maybe Jean was wrong. Maybe you didn’t want to see him.

“She’s in the garden.” He heard Charles say. Quickly turning around he found the Professor with a knowing smile on his face

“Are you spying on her?” Logan arched his brow.

“No, I just saw her on my way back from my walk.” Charles continued down the hall. “Can you believe that? I go on walks now!” He joked.

Logan shook his head and smiled softly before heading out.

He wasn’t surprised when he found you on your usual bench. When you heard him coming and turned to look at him, Logan froze.

“Hey.” he hesitated, not knowing if he should walk closer or not.

“Hi.” You said softly. “You’re back.” There was relief in your voice.

“Yeah… I pretty much got kidnapped.” He muttered, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets.

“You shouldn’t have left in the first place. But you’re here now, so let’s celebrate.” You turned to pick something up and when you turned back around Logan saw you were holding a bottle of champagne.

“I’m not much of a champagne type of guy, sweetheart…” He said a bit confused.

“Oh, no, you got me all wrong. This is for me. This…” you turned around and picked a bottle of whiskey. “...is for you.”

That got a laugh out of Logan. How did you always manage to make everything better?

“You know me so well.”

Once he sat down he took the bottles from you and opened them. When you took the bottle of champagne again your eyes locked in.

“Come, sit with me.” You said, and finally Logan found the courage to get close to you.

This was it, this was the moment he was dreading.

“I’m so sorry, Angel.” He said softly. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, Logan, I know. I don’t blame you for it.”

He raised his hand to stop you.

“Please let me finish.”

You shut your mouth and nodded. Logan took a long swing of the whiskey, almost drinking half of the bottle in one go. Then he took a deep breath and looked back at you.

“Ever since I can remember, which isn’t long because most of my memory consists of scraps and broken parts, I’ve had really bad nightmares. I have bits and pieces of what happened to me when I was experimented on. And it was torture. It was insufferable pain. No matter how much I try to run away from that past, every night I find myself back in that room, with those needles and cables attached to me, the adamantium filling in…” He took a shaky breath in and then another swing of whiskey, trying to calm himself down.

You didn’t say anything, as expected, but you did place your hand on top of his, encouraging to go on.

“...I remember parts of wars I fought in, crimes I committed when I ran with the wrong crowd… people I’ve lost.” He closed his eyes and defeat. “I lost so many people. I can’t lose you too. So when I saw what I did to you, I didn’t know how to handle it, I couldn’t deal with it.”

“Oh, Logan…” You whispered, wiping a tear away from his cheek. Logan tilted his head on your hand, seeking your warmth.

“I won’t lie to you Logan. You did scare me that night.” You confessed, and Logan’s heart broke a little bit more. “But I think that is to be expected. Maybe for a moment there you lost yourself, but it wasn’t your fault. You’re dealing with so much trauma, and you’re doing it alone, there’s only so much you can do.”

“What’s the alternative?” He asked, sounding defeated.

“To let others help you.” You replied. “Let me help you.”

“How?” Logan asked, confused.

“I can try to use my powers to heal you, to heal your mind, your brain, whatever it is that needs healing.” You offered. “I can’t assure you it will work but it’s worth the try. And if it doesn’t then we’ll figure something out.”

Logan placed his free hand on top of yours.

“You always help, Angel. It’s all you ever do, help others.”

“It’s what I do best.” You shrugged and smiled.

“I will never be able to express how sorry I am for hurting you. Not just for physically hurting you, but also for leaving you when that was the last thing I should’ve done.”

“I forgave you already.” It was true. Before Logan came back your thoughts were all over the place, you didn’t know how to feel, or if you two would ever be friends again. But the second you saw him standing there, a look of shame and sadness on his face, every doubt flew away. You loved him, and even if you never got to be more than just friends, you couldn’t imagine a life without him in it.

“You’re way too good, sweetheart.” He shook his head in disbelief. “There has to be something I can do to make it up to you.”

You nodded your head.

“There is something! I want you to promise you’ll never run away from me again.”

Logan smiled softly.

“Only if you promise not to run away from me either.” You felt the weight of his words. He was asking you to stick around, even if you were ever afraid of him again.

“I haven’t gone anywhere so far, that’s gotta count for something, right?” you smiled. Logan nodded.

“You got yourself a deal, gorgeous.” He said, closing the deal. You smiled and blushed at the nickname. “So, where do we start?”

You pursed your lips, deep in thought.

“Let’s piece your memories back together. What’s the first thing you can remember? Do you remember anything from your childhood?”

Logan tilted his head.

“Alberta, Canada… I was a kid… I remember my father, he was a kind man. And then I remember running away, I was scared because suddenly I had claws…”

You listened closely and after a moment you raised the bottle of champagne.

“I guess we’re going to Canada…”

#logan howlett #x men #hugh jackman #logan howlett fic #the wolverine #james logan howlett #james howlett #wolverine #x men fanfiction #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x you #logan x reader #healing touch

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coqhee · 1 day ago

Text

ROOM FOR YOU

✷ enhypen hyung line being clingy

day 20 of melodies to memories ― p.sh x f!r fluff healing 1OO3

it’d been a whole 3 years since you’d last seen him after you graduated from high school, and only now had you received word from the man himself that he was moving back.

hoon: “i’m coming back to town soon for college, should we meet up?”

you stared at his text wondering how you should feel. the boy was your first friend, first crush, first everything except for anything relating to ‘boyfriend’. you wondered maybe if you’d said something before he left if he’d had stayed

little did you know, sunghoon harbored the same exact thoughts and feelings. you were his everything except for his girlfriend and how he wished he could call you his after all the time you’d spent together growing up

good thing sunghoon was thinking the same exact thing after he’d sent the text, wondering if it was the right call to text you back all this time.

the east coast just wasn’t made for him and he’d been wanting to go back ever since he got there.

he’d been meeting to call, ask many times ‘how’s it like back at home?’ or even ask about the lake you’d spent many summers in, dunking each other in, then basking in the fleeting daylight as you dried off.

you’d meant to move on, appear strong and say that you were doing better now, and it was for the best, but seeing that text…you weren’t so sure.

you knew there’d always be room for park sunghoon inside of your heart whether you liked it or not.

y/n: would you have time to call sometime as well?

your fingers hovered over your phone as you hit send, heart pounding like you’d just run a marathon. it wasn’t like you to feel so nervous about a simple text, but with sunghoon, nothing was ever simple.

the three dots appeared almost immediately, and you couldn’t decide whether that was a good or bad sign.

as if almost immediately, your message was read and he was calling. it was about time you suppose.

“hey,”

“it’s about time you rang,” you force out a small laugh. at least you wanted to think it was forced, that he didn’t have you waiting endlessly on the call you asked him to give when he had landed at the other end of the country.

“you must’ve gotten up early, here it’s almost 10:30,” he continues on after a moment of silence either of you aren’t sure you’re comfortable with.

“yeah a bit, didn’t mean to wake up, so i’ll probably go back to sleep after this call,” you smile appreciating the concern.

“guess i got lucky then,” you hear him smile on the end. god, how you hated that you could predict his facial features just through his voice.

“so,” you started, breaking the silence that threatened to grow too heavy, “what’s bringing you back? homesick?”

“missed the west coast, missed home too much here,” you hear him laugh on the other end. it’s a laugh of carefulness and uncertainty.

you hum, acknowledging his statement, somewhere deep down hoping he’d say he missed you too.

“missed you,” you blurt out speaking your mind before he could start a new statement.

“i missed you too, not just as a friend, but as an everything,”

his words hung in the air, thick with meaning. you froze, your breath catching in your throat as you processed what he’d just said.

"an everything?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah,” sunghoon admitted, his tone softer now. “i know it’s probably not fair to say this after all this time, but i couldn’t leave it unsaid anymore. i thought maybe if I told you now, we’d have a chance to… i don’t know, figure things out when i got back?”

“sunghoon…” you started, your voice wavering. “you can’t just say things like that out of nowhere.”

“i know,” he sighed. “i know it’s a lot, but I’ve been holding it in for three years. i can’t keep pretending i don’t feel this way about you.”

“you’re not special you know that right? you’re not the only one who hasn’t moved on, so fuck you too park sunghoon,” you laughed in a lighter tone.

if sunghoon could explain that feeling, it’d felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders and he could never explain how the tightness in his chest dissipated by your words and tone alone.

“would it be better to talk about this, like when i come back?” he asked unsure if this was the best resolution to a phonecall where he practically said everything he’d been wanting to say for the longest time ever.

“maybe it would,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the whirlwind of emotions brewing inside you. “but for the record, hoon, you don’t get to come back into my life and drop a bomb like that without dealing with the fallout.”

hoon. he’d love to live everyday with you calling him that again, bad or good day.

“i deserve that,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “i just couldn’t wait any longer. i had to tell you.”

“three years, though,” you said, your voice teasing yet soft. “who moves to the other side of the country, never contacts their best friend, then decides to come back and let everything out after 3 years? are you crazy?”

“every single day,” he confessed. “moving away didn’t change how I felt. If anything, it made it worse.”

for the first time in years, you felt the faintest glimmer of hope for what could be. “then i guess i’ll see you soon, park sunghoon.”

“soon,” he echoed, and the word felt like a promise.

as the call ended, you sat there in the quiet of your room, your thoughts racing but your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. three years was a long time to hold onto feelings like these, but maybe—just maybe—it was worth the wait.

─── ♡

a/n: happy day 20 of melodies to memories! guess who forgot i have to MANUALLY upload this cause my blr is broken! day 21 will be out shortly as well so you lucky ducks get a DOUBLE upload, sighhh

melodies to memories tl (open!): @pshwrldd @hhmnya @wonsdoll @lovuegi @letmein2urheart @firstclassjaylee

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silentscrying · 2 days ago

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🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track five: the battle of the bands

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, DOGGOS, yuji literally is just a ray of sunshine 24/7, mentions of drunk driving, so much fluff, ridiculous amount of kissing tbh, short time skip at the end, FINAL CHAPTER! || sfw. 8.8k words.

FOR THE FIRST time in a long stretch of busy days, you wake up not to the chirp of your alarm but to soft rays of Saturday morning sunlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, painting your eyelids orange-gold. You crack an eye open and find Takuma stirring beside you. Right.

“Morning,” you whisper. For a moment, when Takuma opens his eyes, he looks surprised, and then he seems to remember why and how you got here and his expression melts into a soft smile.

“Morning, Skip.” He yawns. “Time’s it?”

You shrug. You’re pretty sure your phone is dead.

“Eh, it’s Saturday,” he mumbles. “S’fine.” You chuckle, daring to reach out and ruffle his hair. You don’t know what this is, the unspoken thing in the thin slice of air between you. You know what you want it to be, though.

For a while you both lie in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the awakening house float up the stairs toward you. Murmuring, clattering around in the kitchen, the front door opening and closing, cars outside.

“Hey,” you say eventually, making eye contact. His eyes are a very deep shade of brown, dark but warm in a way that reminds you of old bookshelves or tree bark after the rain.

“Hey back.”

He’s relaxed, every part of him unhurried, and you take the image of it and stamp it into your mind over the memory of the night prior. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Takuma smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Maybe it should be more awkward, the fact that you’re here in his bed in his clothes and you haven’t named whatever it is that stretches out in the silence. But it’s not. It’s just… easy.

“Skipper?”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you,” Takuma whispers. The words wrap themselves around you, warm when you didn’t know you were cold.

“Yeah?” You bring a hand up to his face, trace the line of his jaw. His cheeks are a little colored in the mix of light slipping through the window and the cracked door. “I really, really like you too, Takuma.”

He cups your face in both hands, pulls your lips to his, and your whole body responds, pressing up against him in the too-small twin bed. Your hand goes to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and this is what people write love songs about, you fucking get it now, all the metaphors and cliché words you thought were exaggerations but no, they’re not, because you’re feeling all of them all at once and you don’t ever want to leave this moment in time.

“Like” doesn’t feel strong enough, not for this. You’ve only known him for a month. Is it really possible he’s already become so integral to the structure of your heart?

You’re kissing in the early morning light and it’s hungrier than you thought your next kiss would be, because even though all the rest of your days are rolling out before you, you don’t know how many there are. He twists so he’s above you on his knees, one of them between your legs, and it’s like a reversal of that night on the roof, like you can feel the night air even in the golden midmorning hours.

“Kuma,” you murmur between kisses, and he grins against your mouth, takes your next breath and makes it his.

At some point you’re interrupted by the startled growl of your stomach, and you break apart, unable to stifle the giggles rising up in your throat. “Well.”

“Well,” Takuma echoes, grinning. He stands and offers you a hand. “Breakfast?”

Downstairs, the house is alive with idle chatter and the clinking of silverware. Kirara is seated atop the counter, legs swinging as she eats a plate of eggs, and Hakari stands beside her leaning against the cabinets. Megumi scrolls absently through his phone at the table, the dogs looking up at him expectantly from either side, and Yuji is digging through a bunch of take-out boxes. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“Morning!” he practically sings. “Here, eat food.”

“Where’d this come from?” Takuma asks.

“My friend dropped off breakfast,” Yuji chirps, pushing a Tupperware container of pancakes toward you. If it weren’t for the brace wrapped around his wrist, you’d have no idea anything happened. He’s his usual golden retriever self.

You smile, forking one of the pancakes onto a plate. “That’s sweet.”

Your phone buzzes, and it’s Tsumiki sending you the link to the news brief. You frown at the headline, not out of any disrespect for the writer who stepped up to cover it, but more at the fact that it’s unfortunately true.

JU senior issued DUI after crash on 34th and Olson Blvd Friday night

“What’s up?” Takuma asks, immediately noting your expression. You slide the phone across the counter, watching its screen catch the light from the kitchen window. Kirara leans over it as well and starts reading off Junpei’s story halfway through.

“Zenin, who according to a campus police report was driving under the influence of alcohol, was on the phone with an ex-girlfriend when he swerved into the opposite lane.” Her dark brows knit together in some combination of anger and disbelief. “Jesus.”

“That’s fucked,” you murmur.

Someone’s phone rings, and Megumi glances at his screen and blinks, seems to hesitate. Then he gets up and disappears down the hall. You glance at Takuma, but he just shrugs. It’s probably Gojo.

The rest of you eat and eventually make your way to the living room, scattering yourselves across the couch and carpet and chairs.

“That single last night,” Takuma says, letting Kuro jump up beside him on the couch. “Concept. Make it the title track of an EP.”

You blink for a second, startled. “Wait, for real?”

“Yes!” Takuma says, sitting up straighter. “Think about it. Cover art is one of those name tag stickers, you all sign it, wrinkle it up and crease it and take a grainy film photo. And you put the song on it with Next Fix and a couple of your older singles you and blow up.”

“Or you print one off that says hello, our name is,” Kirara pipes up, seeming excited by the idea. “Ooh, you can have an intro track like that.”

“All caps. Just to match the energy,” you say, picturing the EP cover in your mind. “HELLO MY NAME IS. No punctuation either.”

“I like it,” Kirara nods. Takuma’s got that excited shine to his eyes, and you realize he’s very in his element in this conceptual space—he really will be a good producer. He has the mind for it.

Megumi slips back into the room looking a little haphazard, disgruntled, looking anywhere but into anyone else’s eyes, and Yuji cocks his head in question. Not Gojo, then. “Who was that?”

“No one,” Megumi lies, waving him off and turning back toward the kitchen to avoid everyone’s questioning gaze. Hm.You know better than to ask, and it seems that’s the consensus, because nobody pushes it—Megumi will open up in his own time. You hope he figures it out soon.

For your part, it’s a lazy Saturday, hanging out with Takuma, Yuji, Megumi, Kirara, and Hakari, gaming and talking and generally just existing in each other’s presence. After the chaos of last night, it seems to be exactly what all of you needed.

It’s not until late afternoon that Kirara broaches the topic of the band.

She gestures at Yuji, a flapping motion that misses the mark a little because Kirara is sprawled upside-down in the beanbag in the corner. “Itadori, can you, like… drum with that?”

He shrugs, looking down at his injured wrist. “Yeah, probably!” You frown. So much of drumming is in the wrist, and you kind of figured Kirara’s question was rhetorical. You realize abruptly that Shibuya Incident is still going up against Black Flash in the finals on Friday, and if they don’t have Yuji, they’re fucked.

“Psh, don’t look like that, it’s fine,” Yuji insists, grabbing two Wii remotes and wielding them like drumsticks. He goes to bang them around, mimicking a rock beat, and you watch as his face twists into a grimace and he drops one of them. “Okay, so, update: never mind!” He grins sheepishly.

Kirara is the first one to look at you, and by the time you’ve processed what exactly it is she’s trying to say, everyone else has their eyes locked on you—including Yuji.

Oh, shit.

“Whaddaya say, girl drummer?” Kirara asks, pointing a finger gun at you.

“Oh, guys, I don’t… I don’t know, it’s your band. Yuji—”

But Yuji is the one who seems the most excited about it. He’s abandoned both Wii remotes on the floor and is now looking up at you with bright eyes and his eternal grin. “No, Skipper, please? It would be so fun! I can still do aux and stuff. But we could play together! It would be so awesome!”

“Is that even allowed?” you ask, glancing at Takuma, who’s trying and failing to hide a boyishly excited smile. “I mean, I already got eliminated.”

“Hang on,” Hakari says, pulling out his phone. It takes you a minute to realize who he’s asking. “Yeah, no, Panda says it’s whatever. Better that than not have a battle at all.”

Takuma nudges you with a knee, looking at you with steady eyes. It’s your choice, he seems to say.

“I think,” you say slowly, “I should talk to my band first. But… I’m not opposed.”

Yuji whoops so loudly you flinch a little and Takuma grins, putting his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder.

“I probably should head out,” you say, a little reluctantly. “Kinda left the roommates high and dry last night.”

Kirara salutes you, her face red from the blood rush of still being upside down, and Yuji chirps out a happy see ya!

“I’ll walk you out,” Takuma says, standing when you do. You say bye to the band and the dogs and he follows you to the front door, going as far as to step just outside with you. The door stays open just a crack as you linger, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. He pulls you in and kisses you right there on the front step, and you smile against his lips.

“Are we, like…?” Takuma murmurs when he pulls away, cheeks flushed from the question or the cold, you can’t tell.

“Are we what?” you tease, shoving lightly at his chest.

“You know.”

“Well, if you don’t say it I’m gonna beat you to asking—”

This seems to zap whatever hesitation Takuma had right out of him, and he cuts in, “Willyoubemygirlfriend?”

“Sorry, what was that?” You know you’ve got a shit-eating grin on your face, but you can’t stop it. “Couldn’t really hear you—”

“Oh my god. Will,” he says slowly, drawing out the word, “You. Be. My. Girlfriend?”

You can see your laugh fanning out before you in a puff of warm air, and you tip your head forward into his chest, grinning. “Yes, Takuma, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You pull back and look up at him, lacing your fingers together. “I was kind of trying to get you alone all week so we could figure out what the fuck was going on. But it worked out, huh?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “It worked out.” He reaches up and ruffles your hair, laughing when you go to swat his hand away. “I was trying to get you alone, too,” he admits. “I like spending time with you, Skip. I’m pretty sure you’re the coolest person I’ve met, like, ever.”

“Ever,” you echo. “Those are some pretty lofty expectations to live up to.”

He shrugs. “You meet them all.”

Despite yourself, heat creeps up to your cheeks again.

“That was less scary than I thought it was gonna be,” Takuma confesses. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you glance at it and see Maki’s name sliding across the screen.

“Think that’s my cue.” You plant one last kiss on Takuma’s lips and turn around, throwing a “bye, boyfriend” over your shoulder. You glance back and catch him mid fist-pump, and he sheepishly shoves his hands into his pockets when he realizes you saw.

You’re still wearing his clothes, you realize as you answer your phone. Guess it doesn’t really matter, since they’re your boyfriend’s.

“Hey,” Maki says in your ear. “You comin’ home anytime soon? No rush, but we’re making lunch so we figured we’d ask.” In the background, you can hear Toge singing what you think is a dramatic rendition of Kristoff’s song from Frozen II, but you aren’t entirely certain because none of the words are right.

“Yeah, I’m literally walking through the door in thirty seconds,” you say, and Nobara’s face appears in the kitchen window. She waves excitedly and you raise a hand in return.

“Oh, sick.” The line goes dead as you open the front door. “Hey!” Maki shouts when she hears it click, and you slam it closed against the rush of cool air trying to sneak inside with you.

“Hi!” you call back.

Yuta pokes his head around the corner and grins at you. “Welcome home, our favorite breaking news reporter.”

“I didn’t actually report on anything,” you admit, kicking your shoes off and padding into the kitchen. Toge is somehow balancing cross-legged on one of the high stools, and Maki is making tacos. “Conflict of interest once I realized who it was.”

“Yeah, I saw the article,” Nobara chimes in, glancing up from her phone. “Yikes. Frickin’ Naoya Zenin. What an asshat.”

You snort. What an understatement.

“Hope he rots in jail,” Maki says in a sing-song voice, not even looking up.

“I love family,” Toge says.

You fill your friends in on the crash and the aftermath and Yuji’s wrist, leaving out some of the details about Takuma, because that feels a little invasive. And then Yuta asks the big question: “What about the band?”

“About that,” you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not exactly sure why this makes you so nervous. Maybe it’s just that these are your people, your band, and you all worked so hard and then went down together. It doesn’t seem fair that you get to go back on stage and try again and the rest of them don’t. “So. They asked me to fill in—“

“Yes!” Nobara shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Oh, that’s so awesome!”

“Well, I didn’t say yes yet—”

“What? Why?” Toge asks incredulously. You laugh, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. Of course they’re okay with it. These are your best friends. They’ll always have your back.

“I wanted to check with you guys,” you say, feeling silly about it now. “Just—I don’t know, to make sure. Since it’s not our band, and I didn’t want you guys to feel like I was, I don’t know, like…”

“Musically cheating?” Maki chuckles. “Skipper, this is great. You should say yes.”

Yuta solemnly puts a hand over his heart. “Avenge us.”

“Thanks, guys.” You grin as you hop up on the counter next to Nobara, pressing your shoulder to hers. “I love y’all.”

“Sap,” Maki says, which means love you too.

—

Using a drum set that isn’t yours is always a weird experience. You feel like everything is just ever so slightly off, and Yuji’s kit is an absolute patchwork of different brands of heads and shells and cymbals. You have to lower the stool because he’s taller than you. But it’s just for rehearsal, at least—you can use your own kit at The Fix.

It’s your first time in the shabby basement of Takuma’s house, and it looks distinctly different than your own. They’ve pinned old rugs to the walls as a type of sound deadener, not dissimilar to your own setup, but their lighting is a collection of Facebook marketplace floor lamps and a little disco ball that’s apparently Yuji’s. Your basement has string lights and a bunch of stools and beanbags, and this one has extra blankets all over the floor where Yuji and Kirara have made themselves at home.

Learning Shibuya Incident’s songs isn’t difficult—you’ve heard enough of their music to anticipate what’s coming, and Yuji’s there to give you pointers. Their three-song set for the final performance isn’t actually done, because they don’t feel like they have a good enough finisher, and after you’ve run the first two songs several times you mess around with potential chorus lines.

“What about that?” Kirara says after plucking out a new melody. “It’s hype enough, I think. Or it will be, once we add the rest of you.”

“I like that.” You tap out the rhythm on the snare rim, humming. “You have lyrics?” You look at Takuma, who’s staring at the ceiling like it might have all the answers if he just squints hard enough.

“Somethin’ about, like… losing your head a little bit because you caught feels,” he says. “Like, you’re down so bad you can’t function, to be dramatic about it. That triplet at the beginning of the chorus, Kirara—”

She plucks it out again, down-up-down. “On my own,” Takuma echoes, down-up-down. “Every little move I can’t pin down…”

The words tumble past your lips before you can stop them, because they’ve been circling your head for a week now. “Friends with all the dead in my ghost town.”

He spins around to look at you, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes! It’s like I’m going…”

“Going,” Kirara echoes, and they go back and forth—going, going, “out of my mind!”

“Whoo!” Yuji cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Holy shit. That was crazy.” Takuma grabs the nearest beat-to-hell spiral notebook and starts scribbling.

Megumi starts laying out a bassline, subtly driving the beat forward a little, and you clamp the hat down on two and four to keep time. Kirara comes in with something that must be the verse, and Takuma reads off, “You left in the morning after eight, I got into work two hours late, I can’t see the sun without your face.” Bass, bass, bass. Megumi nods along and Yuji is practically dancing from his spot on the floor.

“One day and I run fresh out of light…”

Hm. You add, “Twelve hours without your hand in mine.”

“I’m dizzy and overworked and tired,” Kirara sings lowly. All three of you sing the chorus again, and you feel just like you’re at home in your own basement, writing a song in real time with Nobara and Maki and the boys.

“Oh, that slaps,” Takuma practically shouts. “Jesus. We’re gonna win.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Megumi warns, a wry quirk to his lips.

Kirara glances at her phone. “Food’s here. Break time, freaks.” She bounds up the stairs and Megumi follows to help her grab the bags—you DoorDashed Taco Bell, since Yuji never got his beloved crunch wrap on Friday.

You leave your sticks on the snare and move around the drum set, flopping down on the ground beside Takuma. “You’re good at that,” you tell him honestly, pulling the notebook away to read what he’s writing down. I met you across the darkened stage, you shook up my life, you got me made, you’re drivin’ me crazy night and day.

You can’t help thinking of the night you met him, locking eyes while he sang from the edge of the low stage at The Fix, lit up by purple-red stage lights and putting you in a trance. You scribble a few more lines after his and hand the pen back.

“You’re a poet,” he tells you, and you laugh.

“I’m a journalist.”

“Woman of many talents,” he says, echoing Maki’s words from that first night you met.

“Itadori!” Kirara shouts down the stairs.

“Coming!” Yuji leaps up and disappears up the rickety basement staircase, leaving you and Takuma alone.

“Hey,” he says, tapping the pen on the page. You glance up at him, nodding for him to keep going. “Can I take you out? Like, on an actual date?”

Something light and quick kicks around in your chest, a hummingbird loose in your ribcage. “I would not be opposed,” you say, as if the idea doesn’t make you want to kick your feet like a little kid. “When are you thinking?”

“Mm, you’re in night class prison tomorrow,” he says, tapping the pen against his lip now. “Tuesday?”

It shouldn’t make you so irrationally happy that he remembers your schedule, but logic seems to go out the window where Takuma Ino is concerned. “Tuesday’s good. Where do you wanna go?”

He shakes his head adamantly, tapping you on the nose with his pen. “Leave it to me.”

—

The only things Takuma’s told you about your date tonight are dress warm and bring your board. He meets you outside your place at four, his bag definitely bulkier than usual, his own skateboard under one foot.

You’re wearing a denim jacket over a hoodie and your favorite cargo pants with your boots, and you tucked a beanie and gloves into your bag just in case, but it’s surprisingly balmy out for late October. The wind is the worst of it.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Takuma says when you coast down the driveway and come to a stop beside him. The greeting makes you blush as much as his smile does, and he chuckles as he pushes off. “This way.”

“Where are we going?”

“Crazy,” he says. You roll your eyes. Sounds like the kind of dad joke Yuta would make.

“Well, then.” The two of you make your way down the street and around the bend, and you realize he’s taking you to the skate park. But at the entrance he keeps going, around the pit and a few of the ramps and to the largest one, back in the corner—not the one Sukuna deals under, but the one opposite. And you stop in your tracks, your longboard making a protesting schkk under your feet, when you see it.

Battery-powered string lights loop around the posts and down the underside of the ramp, and blankets and pillows are spread out across the ground. The area is sheltered from the worst of the wind, and you know your jaw is hanging open a little as you watch Takuma unload his bag—JBL speaker, two thermoses, and a bunch of food.

“Takuma,” you say, not knowing what other words suffice. “I—oh my god.” You did not peg him as being this romantic.

Then you think about his song lyrics and think maybe you should have.

He grins at you from where he’s sat down on the blankets, holding out one of the thermoses. You leave your board by one of the poles and sit down beside him, taking it and letting the warmth seep into your hands. “What is it?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Mm.” You scoot closer to him, staring up at the layers and layers of graffiti and marker art covering the underside of the ramp. “This is maybe the sweetest thing ever.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“I wouldn’t know.” You take a sip of the hot chocolate—still warm. “It’s romantic. Big fan.”

“Really?” He points to where somebody drew a dick on the far side of the ramp.

“Okay, well, you didn’t have to point it out,” you smirk. “You ever done graffiti?” Looking at his mischievous smile and the beanie tugged over his head, the skateboard abandoned a few feet away, he does look like the type.

“Tagging?” He shrugs. “No. I would, though. Maybe we should.”

You hum, staring up at the arcing bubble letters and jagged black lines all over the ramp. You think you’d be horrible at graffiti, but you’ve always appreciated it, the way it sends a message and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

“This is like… alternative aesthetic stargazing,” you muse, lifting a finger and tracing the sharp lines of one of the illegible words in the air. You could stare at all this art for hours and never find all the intricacies of it.

Takuma digs around in his bag and produces a Sharpie with an “aha!”

“You’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie?”

He throws it at you and you catch it in one hand, instinctively twirling it like a drumstick. “We’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie,” he corrects.

And so you do.

The nearest part of the wall is covered in bright pink paint outlined in black, and it takes you a moment of squinting and tilting your head to realize it says LEAVEYOURMARK. Seems as clear of an instruction as any. So you do—scooting forward, you start to draw flowers into the thick bands of pink lettering, and soon they’re shifting to music notes, percussion notation, aimless squiggles. Takuma queues up a laid-back playlist with a few artists you recognize and many more you don’t, and you pass the pen back and forth, adding tiny notes to messages around the ramp, doodling in the empty space.

You’ve been on dates before, but this feels wholly different. With Takuma, you’re not stressing over conversation starters, worrying about commitment, wondering if you picked the right outfit, trying to gauge your shared interests with carefully planned questions. It’s just easy, existing with him like this.

After a while, you’re on your back in the mess of pillows and blankets, staring directly up at the massive painting of a skateboard with a face. Takuma is drawing something on the wall behind you.

Squinting, the green streaks under the skateboard look like that loss meme Toge sends you at least twice a week. You take a photo with the intention of showing it to him later, though maybe you shouldn’t—he gets way too proud of himself for versing you in what he calls Reddit culture.

You crane your neck to see what Takuma’s drawing and find the thick, dark strokes of a city skyline, towers and domes and boxy apartment buildings.

“Artsy,” you tell him, smiling when he appears in your line of vision upside-down. “You sure about this computer science thing? You’re too creative.”

“That’s what my mom said,” he chuckles, capping the Sharpie and sitting down beside you. As you sit up, he leans back on his hands and glances over at you. “I told her about you. She’d love you. I mean, I’m pretty sure she already does.” He hesitates. “Is that weird? Too soon?”

“No,” you grin. “I—that’s really sweet, actually. I would love to meet your mom.” Your gaze softens at the relieved smile that crosses his face. “Gotta thank her for raising a guy like you, anyway.”

You realize you want Takuma to meet your family too—you want to show him all the corners of your too-small town, show him the place you grew up. It made you who you are—it led you here, to him, after all.

“So,” you say, tilting your head. “When you say you wanna be a producer. Where do you mean? Like, LA?”

He shrugs. “Probably. But I’m sure it’s more competitive there than anywhere else. I feel like the major hubs are there and New York, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter, either.” He loops an arm around you, and your head finds its way to his shoulder. “What about you, world-class journalist?”

You grin, thinking of all the places you haven’t been, all the places you want to go. “Anywhere and everywhere. I just wanna see it all. I wanna travel.”

“You should!” He sounds genuinely excited about the concept, and you lift your head, taking in the expression on his face—he looks the way he did when he was talking about making an EP, like the world is full of possibilities and he wants to see them all play out. “You’d be so good at it. Being a travel writer or international correspondent or whatever.” He clears his throat. “I read some of your stuff, y’know.”

“What?” Suddenly you’re racking your brain for every piece you’ve published in the JU Journal, overly critical of your own work in hindsight. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s good. Really good, Skip, seriously.” He reaches out and tugs a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself leaning into the contact.

You aren’t sure what to say, so you settle on a soft, “Thank you.” Somehow, the idea of Takuma going out of his way to read your work feels personal on the same level that writing a song together does. Taking in your words, your ideas, internalizing them. What is intimacy if not that intellectual exchange?

“I think you’re going to be a really good producer.” It’s his turn to blush. “I mean it. Not everyone has the perspective for it, or the ear. But you do.”

“Ah, well, I—”

“Am not good at taking compliments?” you cut him off, raising a brow. “Mm, we’ll fix that.” He laughs, and you’re leaning in to kiss him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is the most natural thing in the world.

It’s late October, and you are not the least bit cold.

—

Your hands need to stop sweating before you lose a drumstick or something.

Shibuya Incident has about twenty minutes before you’re all due on stage for the finals, and The Fix is alive with students and lights and drinks and music and chatter. You’re out on the floor tonight, off to the side for easy access to the stage once Black Flash clears out.

“We’re kicking off with the reigning champions of the Battle of the Bands,” Panda booms, throwing an arm out as the band takes the stage. “You know ‘em, you love ‘em, they’re every genre and no genre, covers and originals, brass and wind. Give it up for Black Flash!”

You whoop just as loud as anyone else here, grinning at Nobara’s animated cheering from closer to the center of the floor. Miwa walks right up to the mic and takes it off the stand, the neck of her white electric in her other hand. “Hey, folks!” She brushes her bright blue hair out of her face and shouts, “Y’all ready to hear some good music?”

She has the sort of infectious enthusiasm that could work on pretty much anyone, and before you know it you and Kirara are spinning each other around to the beat of a synth-heavy pop song that sounds like it came straight out of the 80s. The instrumentals are simple but tight, and Miwa jumps around, engaging the crowd, belting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“They’re good,” you catch Megumi saying lowly, probably to Yuji, but Takuma’s the one who answers.

“If I tell you the power of friendship will lead us to victory—”

“No.”

“Well, okay, you’re no fun.”

Kirara turns around and plants a hand on her hip, looking at Megumi. “Fushiguro, we’re fine. We’re going out with a badass new single and not one but two percussionists. We’ve never sounded this good.”

“Just being the token pessimist,” he sighs, cracking a reluctant half-smile. “I know we’re good.”

Yuji elbows him playfully. “Mr. Realist.”

Black Flash segues into a second track, an ABBA cover that has you dancing without thinking, and Takuma catches your eye and grins, moving along with you. And all too soon it’s over, a third song come and gone, and Panda’s back up on stage and the five of you are hopping up over the side to make your way to your places. Hakari and another tech have already swapped out the kits, and you settle yourself in the comfort of your own throne, your own pedals, flipping on the snare and pounding the kick a few times.

Yuji’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning at you. “You got this,” he mouths, shaking his tambourine at you.

You truly have no idea where he got a tambourine.

“What happened in Shibuya? Who the hell knows?” Panda shouts, riling up the crowd. “Give it up for Shibuya Incident!”

That’s your cue. You look at Kirara, who nods with a conspiratorial smile, and then Megumi, who plucks out a few notes in answer. Yuji’s already giving you a grin and a thumbs-up. And Takuma… he’s already stepped into his on-stage confidence, all relaxed, easygoing performer, and the look he gives you has energy coursing through your fingertips like an electric shock.

You hold your sticks above your head, clicking them loud on the lower end of the shaft, and shout, “One, two, three, four!”

You are alive.

The first track is another pulled from their EP, and you’ve listened to it probably an embarrassing number of times—you know Yuji’s part down to the sixteenth note, the roll, the rest, but you don’t hesitate to put your own spin on it, and he’s alight with the same energy beside you, messing around with a tambourine and a few other aux instruments near a mic of his own, since he’s also doing backup vocals tonight.

Your hands are moving fast, your feet pumping the pedals of their own accord, an instinct, and it’s over before you know it, a sheen of sweat already forming under the stage lights. You grin, catching your breath, wiping your hands on your jeans as Takuma introduces the band.

From your place near the back of the stage, you get more of the low feedback than anything else, but you definitely hear when he says Shibuya Incident and the crowd responds raucously in kind.

“That’s Kirara Hoshi on guitar and vocals,” he says, pointing to her as she does her little riff.

“Yeah, Kira!” You have no idea where Hakari’s voice is coming from, but it’s unmistakable.

“We got Fushiguro back there on the bass,” Takuma continues, and Megumi gives the crowd an unbothered nod, showing off his own instrument for a moment. “Itadori’s back here on aux and vocals.” He pauses to let the crowd shout for Yuji and then adds, “And filling in for him on kit, we’ve got the legendary drummer from Cursed Technique. Everyone give it up for Skipper!”

You do a quick roll, laughing as your own band goes crazy—you can’t see them in the glare of the lights, but you (and everyone else) can definitely hear them.

“I’m Ino, we’re Shibuya Incident, and this next one’s gonna slow things down a little.”

This one starts with Megumi, a laid-back track with a similar vibe to the first song you ever heard Shibuya Incident perform, but a little smoother. It’s over before you know it, and then you and Kirara are launching into the new single. Even Yuji looks like he’s having the time of life on backup vocals.

“On my own,” he and Kirara harmonize, Takuma taking the lead, and you nail the next two lines with punchy cymbal-tom hits, “all the shadows look like a death threat, everybody’s waitin’ to get hit, it’s like I’m going (going) going (going) out of my mind!”

All your worries melt away as the beat drives your movements. You’re not thinking about dropping a drumstick, missing a measure, losing the competition. You’re doing what you love with people you love, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

“Think I’m seein’ double in one eye, startin’ to think this air is spiked, no one told me that’s what love is like.” Takuma lets the guitar hang and grips the mic in one hand and the stand in the other, leaning with it as he engages the crowd, and you definitely hear Nobara screaming. “You got me going (going) going (going) out of my mind, yeah, yeah.”

It’s over so fast you can barely breathe, and you’re laughing before you know what’s happening, Yuji throwing his arm around you and shouting, “You killed it!”

Takuma turns around and locks eyes with you, and you see that same adrenaline high in his gaze that you know is in yours, and when the band stumbles off stage in Panda’s wake, he grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. “That was crazy!” he practically shouts, which is probably good, because your ears are ringing so much you probably wouldn’t have heard him otherwise.

“Guys,” Megumi says, deadpan as always, but you can see the effects of the performance even on him, his usually stoic expression unable to mask his own excitement. “I think… we might have a shot.”

“Holy shit,” Kirara says. “Skip, write the story. Resident pessimist breaks vow of negativity—”

“Oh, shut up.” Megumi elbows her as she dissolves into laughter. In the wings, you can hear the indistinct sounds of Panda’s instructions as he starts voting, and music kicks up over the speakers. Ten minutes. Ten minutes.

It’s the longest and shortest wait of your life, and then you’re back on stage with Black Flash and Panda, and it’s fucking time.

You wonder if everyone else can hear your blood roaring, too.

“Once again, an insanely tight vote,” Panda says, a hush falling over the crowd as they wait for the verdict. “Phenomenal performances from both of our final bands, but someone’s gotta win. Give it up for the champions of this year’s Battle of the Bands…”

You imagine Maki hissing under her breath for Panda to hurry it up, Nobara’s hands clasped together as she anxiously bounces on the balls of her feet, Yuta biting his lip and trying to get Toge to shut up.

Takuma’s hand is on your shoulder, Yuji on your other side, Megumi and Kirara behind you. You glance at Miwa, and she gives you a knowing look that you can’t interpret.

You almost don’t hear it.

“SHIBUYA INCIDENT!”

You don’t know which screams belong to who—maybe one of them’s yours—but you’re swept into a massive pile of musicians drunk off victory, and you’re laughing, and Miwa’s jumping up and down and saying how that was insane, guys, you were amazing, and even Mai nods at you in congratulations, and Yuji is abruptly on Todo’s shoulders, and as the stage lights turn down a bit you finally catch sight of your own band, losing their minds on the floor.

“That’s our girl!” Maki hollers, and Yuta whoops as Toge pumps a fist in the air. You realize you can’t see Nobara, and two seconds later your questions are answered when she somehow materializes on the stage, launching herself at you with a massive grin on her face.

“You did it!” she shouts. “Holy shit, Skipper!”

Everything around you is chaos and laughter and noise, but something in the center of your being is incredibly still, and you think maybe it’s contentment. In this moment, you would ask for nothing else. It is perfect.

Nobara detaches herself from you after more profuse congratulations, turning to Miwa, and the bands make their way gradually off stage. Takuma’s hand is in yours—you don’t know when that happened—and he pulls you past the band, past the wings, all the way into the drum storage room backstage.

“That was fucking amazing,” he says. “You’re fucking amazing.” His beanie is off, tucked into his pocket, his hair as wild as his eyes as wild as your heart.

You close the door.

It’s a pulse. That’s the only way you can describe it, the rush of living energy that comes with kissing Takuma Ino behind the stage of a shitty campus bar, the heat shooting through your veins in time with the throb of the bass from distant speakers. Breath on your teeth and hands in your hair, the warmth in your gut from skin-on-skin proximity, ears ringing with the sound of your name on his lips and love-blind eyes, you’re alive and addicted to a feeling you know you’ll chase forever.

—

TWO MONTHS LATER. DECEMBER 19.

The house is alive with laughter and chatter and Michael Bublé’s Christmas album spinning from the record player. The semester is over, and tomorrow you’ll scatter for winter break, home for the holidays. Nobara insisted on throwing a party before all the inevitable road trips and flights, and the main floor is strung with multicolored lights and tinsel—Yuta’s plant, Rika, even has a tiny Santa hat on.

In addition to the actual residents of the house, Takuma and the band are here, as well as Hakari, Panda, Tsumiki, Miwa, and a handful of other friends. Megumi’s even brought the dogs, who have both taken a liking to the loveseat by the window and claimed it as their own. You’ve informed Megumi that they’re going to stay here with you forever (he said no, but you don’t take orders from him).

“Okay, I’m dropping you off at ten, right?” Yuta quadruple-checks. You’re huddled in the kitchen with him and Maki—Toge was here a minute ago, but he heard someone in the living room mention Just Dance and ran off to assert his dominance or whatever.

“Oh my god, yes,” Maki answers for you. “Yuta. You wrote it down. It’s in your calendar. You live in the same house as Skip, you’re not gonna forget.” She bumps her shoulder with his and he sighs in admission.

“I know.” He smiles at you. “Just gotta make sure she gets home for the holidays. Can’t have you turning into a sad Christmas cliché on us, Skip.”

You salute him with half a gingerbread cookie. “Appreciate it.” He��s taking you to the airport tomorrow for your flight home and refuses to take your gas money, so you’re already planning on beating him to paying for the first grocery run when you get back.

“Things with Mai are good?” you ask, glancing at Maki. She shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t correct you, which is a good sign. She and her sister met up the week after the Battle of the Bands for coffee, which you genuinely thought was a joke when she told you about it. They’re both going home for Christmas and have apparently decided to try and like each other a little more openly. And she actually showed up tonight, which you have to admit you weren’t entirely expecting.

“Yuta!” Toge hollers from the other room. “You have to come do Rasputin with me!”

Yuta groans, looking pleadingly at Maki like she can get him out of this, but she just grins. “You heard him.”

“You hate me.”

“Yeah,” Maki says fondly. Yuta, defeated, goes to join Toge in the dance of death. Maki whispers to you that she’s going to record it for blackmail and slips out after him.

Tsumiki appears beside you, drink in hand, and leans against the wall. She tilts her phone screen toward you and you see it’s the Journal website analytics.

The top story right now is yours. You grin. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize.”

“I expected it,” she admits, tucking her phone back in her pocket and gazing out across the room. “Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you. We won’t start the application process until spring sem, but, if you want it,” she glances at you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I really think you should apply for editor-in-chief, Skip.”

Your mouth opens and closes without anything of use coming out, and Tsumiki laughs. “You don’t have to, but—”

“No!” you blurt, grinning. “I—I want to. I would love to. I was planning on it. I just didn’t know you… wanted me to.” Kusakabe’s just the advisor—when it comes to actually hiring the next editor, Tsumiki has the final say. Her endorsement is as good as a job offer. “I… thank you, Tsumiki.” You look down, suddenly overwhelmed by the words. “Big shoes to fill.”

“Aw, none of that,” she says, stealing a cookie from the tray on the counter next to you. “I literally can’t think of anyone better.” With a wink, she disappears through the doorway, where Kirara and Nobara are talking animatedly. Nobara gestures to you when she catches your eye.

“Dude, our listens are shooting up!” she says, shoving her phone into your hands. Your EP dropped mid-November, six tracks recorded in the studio with Takuma and Hakari, and you’ve performed better than you ever expected. The analytics show a sharp uptick that’s probably in large part due to Panda playing your stuff on the radio station.

You whistle, leaning on Nobara’s shoulder. “Awesome.”

Kirara leans against the wall, considering. “You guys thought about what you’re gonna do next year?”

Truthfully, you’ve really tried not to. The idea of Maki and Yuta graduating is so bittersweet. But graduation means Shibuya Incident will have a hole in their band, too. Kirara will be gone.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nobara muses. “We could join forces. If we lose Maki and Yuta and Kirara, the only thing we’re doubled up on is drums and lead.”

It’s not a bad idea. And if Yuji is track captain next year and you get that editor job, neither of you will have as much time for the band—switching off could actually be very helpful. You hum, considering. You’ll have to talk to the others.

“Oi,” Kirara says, reaching out to poke you with a socked foot. “Your boyfriend’s in lost puppy mode over there.” You glance into the living room to see Takuma scanning the room next to Megumi and the dogs, probably looking for you.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly, and nod goodbye to Nobara and Kirara before making your way over to him. The boys are halfway through Rasputin and Yuta is, much to Toge’s chagrin, kicking ass. Toge looks like he’s just run a half marathon.

Takuma lights up when he sees you, a mischievous smile appearing on his face as he intercepts you by the hall entrance.

“Oh, wow, what is that?” he asks cheekily, and tilts your chin up to see a piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. That was definitely Nobara’s doing. “Crazy that we just happened to—”

You cut him off, dragging him in by the shirt and kissing him, and makes a surprised sound that has you smiling against his lips.

“Crazy,” you repeat after you pull back, relishing the flush on his cheeks. Even after dating him for two months (as of today), every reaction you get out of Takuma makes your heart rate bump up a few beats. “Oh!” he says, suddenly remembering something. “Wait, c’mere, I have something for you.”

“Takuma!” You swat at him. “I told you not to—”

“Boo hoo,” he says, sticking his tongue out and dragging you toward your room, where he dumped his stuff earlier. You quietly close the door behind you as Takuma digs around his bag, standing up with his hands behind his back. “It’s Christmas and it’s been two months. You have no defense. Close your eyes.”

You do, giggling a little as he grabs your hand and presses something into it—something soft. “Okay,” he says, and you open your eyes to see a little stuffed penguin perched in the palm of your hand. It’s fucking adorable.

“Oh my god!” you cry. “Oh, he’s so cute! Takuma.” You cradle the penguin to your chest with both hands, grinning.

“It’s you!” he says, laughing. “Not official Madagascar merch, but I thought it was pretty cute. Your own lil’ Skipper.”

“I love it,” you say, making the penguin do a little dance in the air. You grab its tiny wing and poke Takuma on the nose with it. “Thank you.”

“Merry early Christmas.” His nose scrunches up a little in thought. “Early Merry Christmas? What’s the right way to say that?”

“Happy early nondenominational holiday of your choice,” you say teasingly, because the public university won’t actually say Christmas despite the decorations all around campus.

It’s a running joke among the entirety of the student body that the massive tree in the arts lobby is not a Christmas tree but a secular modern art installation. There are variations of insane alternate tree names on the school meme accounts. The knockoff JU Barstool page even got in on it, and the student groups hosting the Hanukkah and Kwanzaa celebrations.

Takuma’s answering laugh is bright and it follows you as you cross the room to your desk, pulling a box out of the second drawer. “Your turn.”

“What?” He has the audacity to look confused. “Skip—”

You hold up the penguin. “Objection denied!” The box is light and square, and you watch excitedly as he opens it.

“Oh my god,” he says when he realizes what’s inside. “No way. These are the exact ones—how did you even—?”

You had to do some investigating to figure out the precise guitar strings he uses, but what's your journalism degree for if not this?

“Who knows?” You shrug playfully. “Maybe it’s the psychic powers, maybe it’s the housemate I begged to sneak into your room and find out.”

Kirara was more than willing. “Good thing you came to me and not Itadori,” she laughed. “That kid can’t be subtle to save his life.” Takuma’s strings have been on the brink for a while, and you’re honestly shocked none of them have given out yet.

“They’re perfect,” Takuma laughs, setting the box back on your desk. “I love them. I love you.”

He says it so easily it takes you a moment to realize what just happened. He freezes, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what words he’s looking for.

“I—uh,” he says eloquently. “It’s—I mean. I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that but I did mean it, you don’t have to say it back, if it’s too soon or you—”

Instead of cutting him off verbally, you grab him by the shoulders and press your lips to his. His eyes are wide when you pull back, despite the way he relaxed into the kiss on instinct.

“Hey,” you laugh, one hand trailing up to the back of his neck. “I love you, too.”

The excited smile that spreads across his face is slow and hesitant, like he can’t believe you reciprocate. You pull him back in and feel his grin against your lips, his hands coming to rest at your waist, warm.

“Thank god,” he murmurs between breaths. “Because I keep almost accidentally saying it, and it was gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Least it didn’t happen over the phone,” you grin, your hand skating down his arm and coming to rest in his.

Sheepishly, he admits, “Almost did. Yesterday.” Your laugh is bright and so is his answering one, and you perch your little stuffed penguin atop the guitar strings and tug Takuma toward the door.

“Okay, lover boy. Back to the outside world.”

“Lover boy, huh?” he teases. “Kay, pretty girl.”

“Couple of cheesy ass romantics we are.”

“Mm.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the action so casual and unthinking you want to melt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The second you step back into the living room, Yuta grabs you by the elbow and presses a Wii remote into your hand.

“Oh, no. Yuta—”

The song’s been chosen for you, and Toge has passed the remote to Maki, who looks like she’d rather die than give a rousing performance of TiK ToK by Ke$ha.

“Well, at least it’s you,” she says. Toge tries to discreetly pull his phone out, but Maki gives him a death glare that could send a grown man to his grave. He nearly drops it in his hurry to shove it back into his pocket.

You snort, patting Maki sympathetically on the shoulder. “Let’s kick ass.”

Three hours later, everyone has somewhat settled down, sprawled across furniture and countertops and the carpeted floor. Yuta’s grabbed an acoustic from the basement and it’s being passed around, goofy Christmas songs overlapping with the still-spinning record player.

You enrolled here with the intention of building a new life, finding a new purpose—new faces, new music, a new place to call home. And you feel like you’ve found it. This is the point of college. You’re surrounded by the best people you’ve ever known, and your heart is practically overflowing with how much you fucking love them all.

After all, your heart is not a finite thing. You’ve just got an endless supply of affection, and you’re not scared of it.

Love is the right word, you think, letting your head fall onto Takuma’s shoulders, legs tucked up beneath you on the couch.

“I love you,” you whisper, just to say it. When he whispers your name, your real name, in the shell of your ear, something in your chest sparks a little. He makes it sound like a song.

“I love you, too.”

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a/n: that’s a wrap on out of my mind! ahh! i loved this one a lot, and it has so much spinoff potential i’m going a little crazy with it—keep an eye out for the megumi spinoff dropping soon. if you want to be alerted when it drops, lmk and i’ll put you on the jjk taglist. also, greta wrote a sukuna spinoff here—go read!

@bitchkay i need you to know your reblog tags give me life and you were fucking RIGHT ON THE MONEY with these developments

i’m not sure if i’ll start writing other fandoms or not—if y’all would want to see attack on titan or blue lock do let me know!