#You and your stupid stupid heart and you did it to yourself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

helioooss · 1 day ago

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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

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mcrdvcks · 1 day ago

Text

what are hands for?

chapter summary: After an offhand comment from your father shakes your confidence, you find yourself spiraling into self-doubt.

word count: 2.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm not even gonna lie, this is extremely self-indulgent. i've barely been home for a week and my dad's already called me fat once and it definitely won't be the last time

anyways, i basically wrote this for myself but i thought i'd share it because i know for some people, being home for the holidays is rough! and the only thing i need is for logan to tell me he loves me and everything would be perfect

warnings/tags: insecure!reader, reader has a brother, skipping meals, implied that reader has received rude comments from family before, reader describes herself as 5'7" and over 200 lbs one time (like i said, self-indulgent), curvy!reader, angst, fluff

You have always had mixed feelings about going to your parents’ house for the holidays, or even during your breaks during college. You loved home, it was where you grew up so naturally you were supposed to love it.

But you also hated it. Hated the comments, the looks, the yelling—all of it.

And somehow here you were, standing in your parent’s quaint house, your younger brother and his girlfriend already in the dining room helping your mom with dinner while your dad greeted you and Logan.

"Hey, kiddo," your dad said, pulling you into a quick, half-hearted hug before turning to Logan with a small smile. "Logan. Good to see you again."

Logan gave a polite nod. "Good to see you too, sir."

Your dad’s gaze flicked between the two of you for a moment before gesturing toward the dining room. "Everyone’s in there. Why don’t you join them? Dinner’s almost ready."

Logan looked at you briefly, a silent check-in, before heading off. "I’ll go see if they need help," he murmured, squeezing your hand lightly as he passed.

The air shifted the second Logan stepped out of earshot. Your dad turned back to you, giving you a once-over that was a little too long for comfort.

"You’ve put on a little weight, haven’t you?" he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just landed a verbal punch to your gut. "Must be all that mansion food."

Your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. You opened your mouth to respond—what, you weren’t sure—but he didn’t wait for an answer. He just patted your shoulder like it was nothing, muttered something about checking on the turkey, and walked off, leaving you standing there alone.

In the back of your mind, you knew you should’ve put on a different shirt, this one was just a tad bit too tight. But it was one of Logan’s favorite’s, so you didn’t pay too much attention to it.

You pulled on your blouse a few times, trying to get it to not stick to your stomach before walking into the dining room like you always did when you were younger, with a fake smile.

---

You huffed, yanking the seventh shirt over your head and tossing it onto the growing pile on the bed. Nothing looked right—nothing felt right. Every shirt clung too much, hung awkwardly, or just didn’t sit right. And with each outfit failure, the voice in your head grew louder, echoing your dad’s casual remark.

You tugged at the hem of your tank top, staring at your reflection in the mirror with narrowed eyes. “Stupid,” you muttered, turning to the side to inspect your profile. “It’s just a shirt. It’s fine.” But it didn’t feel fine.

After another long minute, you grabbed a loose hoodie from the closet and pulled it on, letting it drown you. It wasn’t what you’d planned to wear, but at least it hid everything you didn’t want to see.

You made your way downstairs to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before your class. On the counter were a box of donuts, and without thinking you grabbed the two you normally did in a napkin and made your way out.

But not before pausing at the doorway, a bite already taken out of one donut as you looked down at the food in your hand. You took another bite and threw both away, making your way to your classroom before the kids got there.

You got to the classroom a good twenty minutes early, dropping your bag onto the desk with a sigh. The hoodie you’d thrown on still felt too heavy, too obvious, but you didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. The two bites of the donut you’d managed to eat sat like a stone in your stomach.

You busied yourself setting up for the day, pulling worksheets out of your bag and lining them up on the desk. It wasn’t much, but focusing on something, anything, kept your mind from wandering too far down the spiral. The kids would be filing in soon, their chatter filling the space, and that would make it easier. It always did.

But for now, the silence was suffocating.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe, and you looked up, expecting one of the students. Instead, it was Ororo. She leaned casually against the frame, a warm, curious smile on her face.

“Morning, Y/N,” she greeted, stepping into the room. “You’re here early. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you shuffled a few papers around unnecessarily. “Yeah, just… wanted to get a head start. You know how Mondays are.”

Ororo tilted her head, clearly unconvinced but kind enough not to push. “If you say so,” she said, her tone light but probing. Her gaze swept over you, lingering for just a second on the oversized hoodie before she caught herself. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks, ‘Ro.” You gave her another tight-lipped smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt.

She hesitated for a beat before nodding and stepping back into the hallway. As soon as she was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

The classroom slowly came to life as the students trickled in, their energy filling the room and pushing your thoughts to the background. By the time the lesson was underway, you were almost able to pretend nothing was wrong. Almost.

It wasn’t until later that day, during lunch, that it all came rushing back. The teachers’ lounge was unusually crowded, laughter and conversations bouncing off the walls. You slipped in quietly, grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar from the counter before finding a corner to sit in.

From across the room, Logan caught your eye. He was leaning back in one of the chairs, arms crossed, but the second he saw you, his expression softened. He gave you a small nod—his way of checking in. You nodded back, offering a faint smile.

You didn’t miss the way his brow furrowed slightly, though, or the way his gaze lingered for just a moment too long before he turned back to his conversation with Scott. It wasn’t like Logan to hover or push, but you knew he noticed things. And he never let them go.

---

After classes you went into the kitchen to put your mug in the sink from hours ago. Out of habit, you grabbed a few cookies Ororo had made yesterday before stopping yourself.

You stared at the cookies in your hand, your frown deepening as your dad’s words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Your stomach churned, and for a moment, you felt like throwing the cookies straight into the trash.

“What’d those cookies ever do to you, darlin’?” Logan’s voice startled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze wasn’t accusing, just… observant.

You hesitated, gripping the cookies tighter. “Nothing,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just… wasn’t really hungry.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, pushing off the doorframe to step into the kitchen. “Didn’t seem like you were thinkin’ about that a second ago,” he said, his tone teasing but gentle. “Something on your mind?”

You shook your head quickly, putting the cookies back on the plate. “Nope. Just tired. Long day.”

He didn’t look convinced. Logan had a way of reading you like an open book, and you hated it sometimes. Hated how hard it was to hide from him, even when you wanted to.

“Darlin’…” His voice was softer now, his hand reaching out to brush yours. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. “It’s nothing, Logan. Seriously.”

He stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “Y/N, you know I don’t buy that. You’ve been off since we got back from your folks’ place.” His voice was low, steady. “Talk to me.”

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. The last thing you wanted was to unload all this on him. But the look in his eyes—genuine, steady, patient—made it impossible to deflect.

“It’s just… something my dad said,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “What’d he say?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

“Y/N.” His tone was firm, but not unkind. “What’d he say?”

You exhaled sharply, avoiding his gaze. “He… made a comment about my weight,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up. “Said I’ve been eating too much mansion food.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his brows knitting together. “He said that?” His voice was low, dangerous. You nodded, still not looking at him. “That’s bullshit,” he muttered, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“It’s not—he didn’t mean it like that,” you tried to defend weakly, though you weren’t sure why. “It’s just how he is. And, it’s not like he’s wrong either, I could lose some weight. I’m 5’7” and over 200 pounds, and sometimes my old pants don’t even go over my thighs or hips. And—”

Logan held up a hand, cutting you off gently but firmly. “Alright, stop. Just stop.” His voice was low, steady, but there was a protective edge to it. “First off, I don’t give a damn what your old pants fit like. And second, your dad? He’s got no right to talk to you like that. None.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Logan stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “Nope. Not hearin’ it, Y/N. You’re sittin’ here pickin’ yourself apart ‘cause of some stupid thing he said, and that’s not fair. Not to you.”

“But he’s not wrong,” you muttered, looking away. “I mean, look at me. I’m—”

“Perfect,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “You’re perfect. And I don’t wanna hear you say otherwise.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re just saying that.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who just says things?” Logan shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Princess, I’m the last person to sugarcoat anything.”

You hesitated, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. Logan sighed, stepping closer and resting his hands lightly on your hips. “Y/N, you’re strong. You’re smart. And yeah, you’ve got curves—and I happen to like ‘em. A lot.”

Your face heated at his words, but Logan wasn’t done. He gave your hips a gentle squeeze, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You think I’d be standin’ here, chasin’ after you, if I didn’t think you were incredible? Come on now.”

“I’m not fishing for compliments, Logan,” you said quietly, still not quite meeting his eyes.

“I know you’re not,” he replied. “But I’m givin’ ‘em anyway, ‘cause you need to hear it. And because it’s the damn truth.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, despite yourself. Logan grinned, clearly pleased to have gotten a reaction out of you. “There’s that smile,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Missed that.”

The knot in your chest loosened just a bit, and you let out a shaky sigh. “Thanks, Logan,” you murmured. “I just… I don’t feel like myself sometimes, you know?”

“I get it,” Logan said, his voice softer now. “We all got our crap to deal with. But you don’t gotta deal with it alone. Not when I’m here.”

You gave him a small nod, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. Logan’s smirk returned, and his hands slid from your hips to the curve of your thighs, his fingers grazing lightly. “Besides,” he said, his tone turning teasing, “you know what these thighs are for, right?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He grinned, his hands squeezing gently before lifting you up. “For my hands. Nothin’ else they need to do, far as I’m concerned.”

You yelped in surprise, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Logan! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he said, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Not until you stop talkin’ nonsense about yourself.”

You glared at him, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrayed your indignation. “I’m serious, Logan. I’m not exactly lightweight—”

“Good thing I’m not exactly weak,” he interrupted smoothly, his grin widening. “You think a couple extra pounds are gonna make me break a sweat? Sweetheart, I’ve fought Sentinels and lived to tell the tale. Trust me, I got this.”

You groaned, your hands tightening on his shoulders as he adjusted his grip, holding you securely. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you thinkin’ you’re anything less than perfect,” Logan countered, his tone softening just a bit. “Now, you gonna stop beatin’ yourself up, or am I gonna have to carry you around all day until you do?”

“Logan, we’re in the kitchen,” you hissed, glancing toward the doorway. “What if someone walks in?”

“Let ‘em,” he said with a shrug. “Not like they don’t already know you’re my girl.” He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “Besides, anyone’s got a problem with me lovin’ on you? They can take it up with me.”

You huffed, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, setting you down gently but keeping his hands on your hips. “Now, what do you say we grab those cookies and actually enjoy ‘em? ‘Ro made ‘em for us, after all.”

Your gaze flicked to the plate of cookies, and for a moment, doubt crept back in. But Logan’s steady hands on your hips and the unwavering warmth in his eyes grounded you. “Okay,” you said softly. “Let’s eat the cookies.”

“That’s my girl,” Logan said, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reaching for the plate. He handed you one, grabbing one for himself, and took a big bite, chewing with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Damn, these are good. Think she’d notice if we finished the whole plate?”

You laughed, the sound lighter than it had felt all day. “Pretty sure she’d kill us.”

“Worth it,” he said with a smirk, taking another bite.

You rolled your eyes but bit into your cookie, letting the sweetness melt on your tongue. For the first time in what felt like days, the weight on your chest eased just a little.

And when Logan leaned in to steal a crumb from the corner of your mouth, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to protest.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic

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solxamber · 1 day ago

Note

Hi can I have Ignihyde for # 8, fluff or comedy. Thank you!

Anime Boot Camp || Idia Shroud ft. Ortho

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "This is non-negotiable" ; Genre: Fluff with Comedy ;

You should’ve known better. You really should have. But Idia had given you one of those rare, half-excited, half-nervous smiles, and you’d been putty in his hands.

“Sure, Idia,” you’d said with zero hesitation. “I’d love to watch the new season with you.”

A seemingly innocent offer. A simple act of camaraderie. And then, Idia had dropped the bomb.

“Great. We’ll start from season one. It’s non-negotiable.”

Season one?

“Wait—how many seasons are there?” you asked cautiously, trying to keep the panic out of your voice.

Idia adjusted his tablet, the glow highlighting his sinister grin. “Nineteen. Not including the movies, OVAs, or the bonus material. But don’t worry, the filler episodes are only about 35%.”

Your soul left your body.

“I—uh…” you stammered, searching for an escape. “Do we really need to watch everything? I thought we were just watching the new season?”

“You can’t watch season 20 without context!” Idia exclaimed, horrified. “You’d miss all the foreshadowing and character arcs! It’s essential to the viewing experience.”

You looked at him, and there it was: the genuine excitement in his eyes, the rare spark of passion that made him absolutely irresistible. Damn your stupid heart.

“Okay,” you sighed. “Let’s do it. Start from episode one.”

Idia’s face lit up, and if you weren’t already melting, his quiet “Y-you’re the best,” would’ve sealed the deal.

That’s how you found yourself on Idia’s couch, sandwiched between him and Ortho, with snacks piled precariously around you.

“This is the start of a life-changing journey,” Ortho said cheerfully, handing you a soda. “Big Brother has been waiting for someone to share this with forever!”

You glanced at Idia, who was trying to hide his blush behind his hoodie.

“You sure we’re not biting off more than we can chew here?” you asked weakly as the opening theme of season one blasted from the giant screen.

Idia waved you off. “Nah. If we watch at 1.5x speed, skip the ending songs, and only take five-minute breaks every eight episodes, we’ll finish in about four days.”

“Four days?”

“Non-negotiable,” he reminded you smugly, tossing popcorn into his mouth.

By day two, you’d developed Stockholm Syndrome for the characters.

“NO, KAZUTAKA, DON’T DO IT!” you yelled, clutching the blanket you’d stolen from Idia’s bed.

“It’s his tragic backstory arc,” Idia explained, completely unfazed by your emotional outburst. “He has to do it for the narrative payoff in season 14.”

You groaned. “This show is going to kill me.”

“It builds character,” Idia said, smirking.

Meanwhile, Ortho was a model of efficiency, pausing episodes precisely for snack breaks and bringing you hot towels like you were at an anime spa. You were starting to think Ortho might be the MVP of this whole operation.

“Ortho, you’re a saint,” you said as he handed you a cup of tea.

“I just want to support Big Brother’s happiness,” Ortho chirped, beaming.

Idia mumbled something unintelligible and pulled his hoodie tighter.

By day four, you were fully invested.

“THE PLOT TWIST! I KNEW IT!” you screamed, nearly knocking the bowl of chips off your lap.

“Pshh, called it back in episode 47,” Idia muttered, though the gleam in his eyes said he was enjoying this more than he’d admit.

“You did not!” you argued.

“I’ve seen this, like, three times, noob,” he retorted smugly.

Ortho, who had already created a mini shrine for your endurance, clapped in delight. “You’re catching up to Big Brother’s level of dedication!”

When the final credits rolled, you leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “We did it. I can’t believe we actually did it.”

“I can’t believe you survived,” Idia said, looking at you with a mix of awe and amusement.

“Maybe a family sometimes,” you said, stretching, “is just you, your crush, and his technomantic humanoid brother.”

Ortho tilted his head. “Does that mean you’re officially part of the family?”

You froze, glancing at Idia. His face was redder than a lava eel, and he was aggressively pretending to read something on his tablet.

“Well,” you said, smirking. “That depends on your brother.”

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hoodie. “You’re insufferable,” he mumbled.

And yet, when you shifted closer to nudge him playfully, he didn’t pull away.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #idia shroud #idia #ortho shroud

261 notes · View notes

madschiavelique · 6 hours ago

Text

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 9 - Death

summary : maybe it is time for reader to move on from patterns that are now useless and reconsider things

content warnings : some angst, then some comfort, then more angst, then more comfort, some crude language an mentions of harassment

word count : 6.1k

author's note : okay i think i might write my old bg3 requests still sitting in my inbox after this but!!!! im excited to write the next chap

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world <3

masterlist : here

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt

You had spent your Saturday recovering, not without frustration. It was a waste of time, you thought. You could have taken advantage of a day without any classes or work like that to study and make more progress, but Selene had come to visit you, worried.

She officially met Sky, who had always admired her since her first lessons with her. Selene had come to your bedside, placing a gentle hand on your forehead for a moment, then letting it slide down to your warm cheek. She sighed, familiar with your overworking habits.

She asked Sky about your night, about the prescribed treatment, and Selene couldn't help but exchange a knowing glance with you when Viktor was mentioned, especially for such chivalrous deeds. She smiled a playful ‘see, I told you so’ which made you pull your cover over your head in annoyance.

When she left, Sky came back to you, bringing you a chicken broth to restore your health, which she hoped you'd consume to the last drop.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this and calling them, calling him. But..." She sighed, watching you finally eat something with relief. "You were working yourself to death, and with such a pace, you probably wouldn't have been able to pass the exams at all if you'd kept going."

You swallowed your mouthful with difficulty, a small knot of shame and regret tightening it. You'd been so obsessed, so fixated on outdoing yourself and winning back your number one spot from Viktor that you'd become nothing more than an information-gobbling machine.

You didn't even need it, you'd just decided to get ahead on the next year's syllabus in the hope of impressing in the papers and showing your dedication. How could you be so stupid?

"Your state was deteriorating visibly..." Sky reflected, looking down at her hands before only meeting your gaze for a moment. "You really scared me, you know."

Your heart split in two. You placed your lunch tray on your bedside table, taking Sky's hands in yours and seeking her gaze despite her bowed head.

"Hey," you murmured in your tired voice as you smiled softly at her when she looked back at you. "You did the right thing, Sky. Without you..." you sighed, thinking back on your stupidity, "I don't know where I'd be right now. This was going to eat me alive until there would be nothing left of me but a white chalk outline on my desk."

She smiled softly, squeezing your hands. Her eyes glistened, her chin trembling slightly as she took off her glasses.

"Oh, Sky..." You pulled her into your arms, holding her close. "I'm sorry."

You couldn't imagine how tired she must have been, seeing you wasting away like that, not listening to her, not hearing her. She had her own revisions, her own things to do, and you had made your problem hers.

You could feel her forehead wrinkling, her hands trembling slightly around you as she twitched.

Since when did you become such an important part of someone's life that they cared that much about you?

What would have happened if, for one more year, you'd never had a flatmate? And if that flatmate hadn't been Sky, would she have had even an ounce of patience like your friend?

You'd fucked up and nearly gone off the deep end, and Sky had done everything she could to avoid it.

"I promise you to never do that again," you vowed, pulling away from her to run your thumb over her cheek and wipe away the tears. "Please, don't cry on me. Cry on... I don't know, Heimerdinger's hairstylist."

Don't cry for me, I'm not worth a waste of tears, not yours.

She laughed nervously, her eyes going to the ceiling. "I don't know why I'm crying, really, this is..." she sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "this is stupid."

"No, it's not," you smiled, "It's good to cry."

She raised her eyebrows, wiggling her nose and shrugging. "Well, you never do."

"That's because I sold my lacrimal glands," you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood by joking.

And it worked - she laughed, the sadness slowly evaporating from her face. "So you have no tears, but you still have your heart, right ?"

You closed your fist, banging it against your chest. "It's a dusty engine, but it does its work."

"Well," she stood up, "I hope it can still feel something."

You observed her for a moment, picking up a saucepan and filling it with water. No doubt to make coffee, or at least tea to ward off your addiction and prevent your mechanical heart from overheating under the caffeine. No amount of Piltovian gold could offer you anything like Sky's sweetness.

"My heart's full of room for the very few friends I have." You picked up your bowl of broth again, its warmth cupped against your fingers. "Its aorta is named after you."

She turned to you, smiling, her eyes filling again with tears as she breathed in.

"You can't just say things like that and not expect me to ruin a box of these," she described movements in the air with her hands in ridiculous, exagerated swirls, "silk-soft tissues they have here."

"Their toilet paper is so thick and soft it feels like we're using pillows," you sneered before blowing on the bouillon.

"Right?!" Sky exclaimed, "It's only been like, a month and a half since I've been here and it all feels so fancy. Everything is so... clean."

"I know!" You laughed, "It's infuriating. The streets barely have a scratch, the buildings have colours straight out of a kid's colouring book, and they have trees."

She sighed, visualising the vegetation the city had before her eyes fell back on yours. "You never get used to it, right?"

You swallowed your mouthful of broth, pressing your lips into a thin line. "Never."

She leaned back against the worktop, watching you for a moment. "Seriously though." She tilted her head to one side. "Don't ever do that again."

You smiled, bringing your forefinger and thumb to your ear and pressing on the lobe.

It was a custom in Zaun to pledge your word. In the Undercity, you pressed your lobe as if you were piercing it, to imaginatively seal in the skin a ring other than the one on your finger. However, everyone knows that if you pull too hard on a piercing, you can tear the flesh, and find it difficult to retie the skin so that it can be pierced again. So the promise was made with a symbolic ring, anchored in the skin, that the promise would be kept.

"May my flesh tear apart if, by misfortune, I betrayed," you recited.

During the rest of the last week of classes before the exams, you resumed a much more normal revision routine than the original, much to Sky's delight. You'd revise with her in the afternoons outside class, asking each other questions about the subjects you shared while you were trying not to die laughing from the stupid ways you looked with your facemasks during skincare time.

When Friday came around, you decided to go to the library again. Unconsciously, it had become a ritual. With Viktor or without, you intended to surround yourself with knowledge as immense as possible.

You went and sat down at a table, alone, while many students who had come for the same reason were already crowding most of the available ones. You took out your things, rereading your index cards for the umpteenth time until you were almost ready to recite them by heart if the need arose.

You couldn't help but lose concentration when you heard your name spoken in the distance, coming from voices that weren’t familiar to you, further behind your back.

"And to say Viktor got put with her on Heimerdinger's subject," one said, chuckling.

"I wonder which of them pulls their hair out more in each other's company."

You tried not to think about it, but since, for once, the conversation wasn't all about the walking street lamp, you couldn't help but let your ears hang close to their mouths.

"Did you see her the other day? A vision of the apocalypse. Hollow cheeks and dead eyes like she hadn't eaten in a month."

"Gotta have hollow cheeks to suck the teachers better," her classmate sneered.

Your jaw tightened, trying to ignore their remarks. This wasn't your first time hearing such things - the previous two years hadn't been as gentle as this one, even if Viktor had caused a few problems with his arrival.

"Can you believe what she did to Tyler?"

"She's an animal." They both laughed, causing you to sink back into your chair.

"How do you think Viktor handles her?"

"He doesn't, she's just a handicap to him and he seems to have an embarrassing enough one as it is."

You inhaled. Someone will probably tell them to be quiet so as not to disturb the peace of the library. You hoped.

"Who's a handicap?"

Your eyes widened as you suddenly turned around. Viktor was standing there, facing them, both students suddenly looking very confused and ashamed.

"Viktor," one of them laughed nervously, "this was just a joke, she..."

But the student didn't have time to come up with an excuse. Viktor raised an eyebrow before speaking.

"She's an incredible person who no one can defeat," he informed them, the latter two lowering their eyes on their notes suddenly invested in their revisions. "Except me."

He punctuated his sentence, turning away from them and meeting your gaze. He seemed surprised, not expecting to find you there, at least not doing nothing when such needlessly cruel nonsense was uttered in your name.

Inevitably, of course, he moved towards you.

Except me. The phrase made you roll your eyes for a moment before you tried to read information from your notes that hadn't needed reading for a long time.

He sat down opposite you, keeping his hand on the pommel of his cane. "Your name seems to be on everyone's lips, Miss."

"What can I say," you sighed, "the obsession they have for me is an undying addiction."

However, Viktor didn't seem amused at all.

"Why do you let them say such things about you without lifting a finger?"

You bit the inside of your lip, feeling the pressure of his gaze on you as your eyes scanned uselessly over your revision sheets.

"It's not the first time I've heard that kind of comment about me," you confirmed without much interest, "I'll survive it."

"So you spend most of your time worrying about the injustices other people experience but you push your own under a doormat?" Viktor summed up, not seeming genuinely thrilled at the idea.

"If I could push the injustice that Tyler is by his very existence off the face of this world, I'd be stepping on some rich blonde aristocrat every time I left and returned from home."

But Viktor still wasn't laughing, far from it. When your eyes finally met his, they were dark.

He sighed. "Are you trying to punish yourself for something by neglecting yourself so much?"

I'd like to forget more than anything else in the world. The thought was taking over your soul, eating away at you like a gangrene with an insatiable hunger.

"Of course," you chuckled, exaggerating a falsely happy tone.

"Stop this." His tone was firm.

"Stop what?" you questioned.

"Trying to make something funny out of this."

You frowned, raising an eyebrow. "What? You're not feeling in the mood for our ritual chit chats?"

"Do I look like I'm joking around right now?"

His eyes had the same gleam, carried the same weight as when he'd held you in place in your bed just a week ago. You almost gulped, speechless. Why was he reacting like that? Why was he worried about you?

You lowered your eyes, licking your lips as you returned to your notes.

"Fine," you admitted, dropping your sarcastic tone. "I guess I owe you for saving my life, anyway."

It didn't sound like it, but it was probably the closest you'd come to a ‘thank you’ for him so far. He seemed surprised that you were finally cooperating in the conversation, that you were at last sending him a very subliminal magic word.

His shoulders slumped, as if the idea of being angry with you was stupid.

"How are you feeling?" He finally asked.

"I'm no longer sick, if that's the question you meant to ask."

"It was, but also," he brought his cane up between his legs, clasping both hands on the pommel as he came to rest his chin on it, "I just wanted to know how you are doing."

Why are you doing this? You were thinking back over the last few weeks. His questions during the power cut, the attention he'd paid to you, staying awake all night by your side to make sure you were taking your medication properly, and now...

"Well," you swallowed, these thoughts unsettling you for a moment and sending a foreign warmth into your belly, "the exams are approaching and I think you've had quite the close look on their effect on me so... yeah."

He considered you, tilting his head to the side until his cheek was the one pressed against the back of his hands. He scanned you, his gaze sending a warm wind up your spine.

"You're still on the treatment, right?"

The horrible powder you had to mix in a glass at least twice a day wasn't the moment you were looking forward to most in your daily routine, but you did it anyway, under Sky's sharp eyes.

You remained silent, just to see how Viktor would react and whether, as he had dictated, he would make sure you stayed in bed no matter what.

Faced with your silence, he raised an eyebrow as he straightened up, finally wrinkling his forehead as he frowned.

"Right?" he repeated, almost menacingly.

"Relax." A nervous chuckle escaped you. "Yes, I'm taking it."

He sighed in relief at the news, while you shook your head in confusion.

"You're putting all this effort... for me? Why"

The phrase sounded alien in your mouth, as if you weren't worth the time or energy of such dedication. He gazed at you for a moment, his eyes roving over your index cards.

"You know why."

"Because you can't have your best rival go against you while she's sick?" you recited.

"Because I don't want to be your rival."

You found this answer profoundly absurd.

"What do you mean-" But he cut you off, annoyed.

"What do you want, hmm? To become Heimerdinger's assistant?"

Of course, you thought, but the way Viktor had said it sounded... easy, too easy. Or at least, too easy for you.

"I don't intend to be his assistant, and I'm going to tell you why."

He stood up, walking around the table until he was beside you and leaning in slightly.

"Because I've already been his assistant, and I stopped."

The words echoed inside you, like the cracking of something you thought was indestructible. Your lips parted in shock, watching him with huge eyes as he straightened up.

"In any case. I wanted to make sure that you'd be back in good shape." He began to walk towards the library exit, turning one last time to give you a playful look. "And now that I'm sure you'll be in full shape, I know I don't need to hold back, hm, rival?"

He turned away, heading for the big door, leaving you with a short-circuited brain. What did he mean by "already been"? What did he mean he had stopped? How had Viktor ever been Heimerdinger's assistant?

When the sentence finally reached your mind after a long travel from your ears, you gathered your things in a flash as the questions began to fly and you almost ran to catch up with him. You caught up with him in the corridors, under the astonished gazes of all the students.

"What?" you asked, out of breath from the sudden exertion and the gust of wind the news had knocked from your chest.

He turned to you, slightly surprised that you'd practically chased after him. He'd probably expected you to sit at your table, mulling things over until the questions got too much for you and you decided to come and see him after a day or two of mental torment.

"You've been Heimerdinger's assistant?" you repeated, adjusting the strap of your satchel on your shoulder.

He shrugged, turning away from you. "Yes."

Was he really just going to leave like that? Leaving you in agony for answers you wanted more than anything? No, it wasn't going to be like that.

You grabbed his wrist, much to his surprise, and pulled him with you into an empty adjoining corridor. Once you were out of sight, checking from one end of the corridor to the other to see if anyone was there, you finally regained his gaze.

There was something in his eyes, like a hint of something that kept his lips parted until they closed and his eyes lowered to your hand still gripping his wrist.

You let go, the heat of shame spreading across your neck and cheeks for a moment as you took a step away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"When were you his assistant?"

He leaned against the wall, sighing as he stared at you.

"You do remember Jayce's trial, don't you?"

How could you forget? You hadn't been present at the trial. Selene had invited you to come as it concerned your friend, but you were too afraid of the aristocratic eyes and the pressure they would put on you.

The story remained vague. Due to special circumstances that remained under the security and secrecy of the administration as to the extent of Jayce's activities, he had been allowed to stay at the academy.

"Yes."

"By then, I had already been Heimerdinger’s assistant for a month.."

You now were certain you'd never seen him before. It was just one month into your summer holidays, and you had gone to Zaun to find Eris. Your chances of running into him were almost nil, no doubt about it.

"How did you get to become his assistant?" you quizzed.

He shrugged, and that simple movement made you want to scream. "I suppose he must have liked my assiduity enough to take me on. That and the fact that, with his little legs, I was bound to walk at his pace," he joked.

You held your breath in your lungs for a moment, before releasing it. He didn't seem to be lying, at least about the only serious part of his sentence. He was undoubtedly the best choice for Heimerdinger in any case.

However, it seemed to you that it wasn't so much exasperation that you were feeling - you were trying to understand what the feeling was... a relief, but not really about the fact that the assistant's place was free, no, a relief about Viktor that you couldn't really place at the moment.

"Why did you stop?" There was no longer any frustration in your voice, just a new-found curiosity.

Viktor seemed taken aback by your new intonation, straightening slightly against the wall. "It didn't interest me anymore."

What could he have found that was better? The thought, at last, that Viktor's aim was not to be an assistant for the rest of his life, crept into your mind. Viktor seemed to pick up on it.

"See? I told you we didn't have the same goal."

You finally realised what that feeling of relief was: you didn't have to hate him any more. You no longer had a reason to try to outdo him, no longer had a valid justification for becoming number one again. But why was it such a relief? There was rarely anything more gratuitous than hatred in what you knew, and it should have been the same for Viktor, so why was it such a relief not to have to hate him any more?

Hating him served no purpose, no motivation. It was useless, and what do you do with useless things?

You took half a step towards him.

"The truce you suggested, have you come up with any clauses?"

His eyebrows rose, his eyes widened. He lifted himself off the wall.

"Um no-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Find some, and I'll consider them."

And with that, you took off, leaving Viktor speechless.

You moved quickly, trying to get home as fast as possible. You were afraid that the street air, so pure and fresh, would wash away your conclusions and fuel a hatred that no longer had any reason to exist.

But you didn't go home straight away, making a diversion to Emeline's shop. As soon as you entered her shop, she didn't hesitate to jump on your neck and give you a hug.

"My little lamb," she enthused as she squeezed you until your ribs broke before cupping your face as if to examine you, "are you feeling better? You gave me quite a fright, you know! When your friend came to visit me and told me you were ill I nearly closed up shop to come and see you myself."

"Everything's fine," you laughed, squeezing her arms, "I've almost completely recovered!"

You'd decided that, after your chat with Viktor and all the effort you'd put into your revision, you deserved a little something to comfort you.

After a little chat with Emeline, she packed two pastries, one for you and one for Sky. Of course, she didn't forget to fill you up with an extra small packet of sweets that would have gone unsold during the day.

When you returned home, you greeted Sky with a smile and raised the two bags of treats to your head. She smiled in surprise.

"To what do we owe this feast?" she asked.

You shrugged. "Let's just say I've made resolutions for the better."

You'd been laughing all evening, stuffing your faces with these delicacies as you both took a well-deserved break from studying.

Your eyes turned to your tarot deck, you'd forgotten to draw any cards lately due to your revisions, so after wiping your hands full of sugar, you took the pack in hand.

“I see you pulling one almost every morning,” Sky remarked, lying on her stomach on your bed while you were cross-legged. “Why do you do that?”

You pulled out your cards in your hands. “To have a leitmotif to follow during the day. Although to be quite honest I don't follow their advice every time.”

She laughed softly, knowing by now your stubbornness like no other. “That doesn't surprise me at all.”

“Yeah well,” you smiled in turn as you shuffled the cards, ”some of them are not the best cards to wake up on to in the morning.”

So you cut your deck as usual, and looked at its underside. You raised your eyebrows.

“Just like this one.”

You showed Sky the card: Death.

She winced, her eyebrows furrowing as her mouth formed as if she were pronouncing the letter x.

“Okay, I get it,” she said, shaking her head. “Is it literal? I hope not, right?”

“Nah it's pretty safe.” You laughed. “The description of its meaning is in the little booklet.” You pointed to it with your chin, and Sky grabbed it, flipping through until she found the Death page.

“Transition. Underworld. Flux. Occultism. Letting go. Evolution requiring liberation. Metaphorical death.” She read. “Off to a great start apparently.”

You chuckled, observing the card as she continued reading. “Death moves across a field with a slow, steady march. A king lies dead. He represents the old systems of order cast aside. A bishop begs for mercy, a young girl turns away in fear and only a curious little girl looks up to greet death. She has not been taught to fear it.”

Your thumb passed over the little girl's drawing, your heart clenching.

“A ship sails away, heedless of death's march. A sun rises between two towers to reflect resurrection and new beginnings. All endings give way to new possibilities. Transformation leads to renewal and growth.” She raised her eyebrows. “Ain't as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Yeah,” you considered, thinking back on your day and the fact that the cards were pointing you in the right direction, ”indeed.”

Exam week was over. You'd had absolutely no trouble at all with any of the exercises. All the subjects were in the bag and you were finishing virtually ahead of schedule in every exam room.

Today was the day of results. The teachers had spent the weekend correcting everything, and the results boards had finally been displayed.

You woke up feeling lighter than you thought you would. Since realizing that there was no longer any point in chasing Viktor to victory, you'd relaxed.

You went down the hall with Sky, passing the student mailboxes for a moment so you could check if either of you had received anything.

You opened the metal door to a single letter, sealed with a metallic black wax seal you knew all too well: Eris.

You took the key to your apartment, using its teeth to open the envelope and take out the letter, which you brought to your nose.

Her letters always smelled of the essential oils and herbs that constantly appeased you. Without further ado, you unfolded the paper and read its contents.

My sweet friend,

I thought you were a lost cause in friendship, but I guess this year the wheel is really turning on your side. I'm delighted, and I imagine the same goes for Selene. I'd love to meet her, that Sky, she sounds absolutely charming. I'm guessing, though, that the day with your Five of Wands must have been no picnic, especially if - from what I understand - Emperor Viktor is to blame. But I'm sure that the Immeasurable Grandeur of the Prestigious Piltover Academy will crown your success.

You giggled to yourself as your eyes passed over the elegant, forced curves that Eris had taken care to add in response to your own inky bows.

I miss you so much. You know how the days are here in Zaun; I open, sell and consult, and close in the evening before any trouble starts. I'm paid with golden trinkets, new flowers to dry and other plants from other regions. I have managed to get some new customers, though, and not the least important ones. Renata Glasc herself has been to my shop.

You'd already heard of Renata Glasc, an ambitious woman who was growing in influence on the streets of Zaun. She wasn't a Chem Baroness, but at the rate she was going, it looked like she was well on her way to becoming one.

In fact, it's through her that I'm hearing about worrying things here. Common for Zaun, you may say, but I can't help thinking the worst. I'll tell you about it myself when we meet. I'm planning to come here around December 23, so let's meet at the usual bridge at three o'clock. I'll be staying with you for a few days. I can't tell you more. But I've lit a candle for you, wishing you success and good health.

I look forward to seeing you again, my dearest trouble,

Eris.

What could she possibly be worried about? The situation was invariably complicated in Zaun, but what could it be that she was worried about?

You carefully tucked the letter into your bag, heading out to the shuttle stop.

“Not too stressed?” Sky asked.

You huffed, a cloud of warmth rising into the air. The cold had been gaining in intensity for over a week, and all the students at the academy had donned their scarves.

“No.” you replied, confident. “You?”

“A bit,” she admitted, her breath trembling slightly.

“Hey,” you pressed your shoulder against hers as she turned to face you, ”you've got this. I know you do.”

She nodded, smiling at you as the shuttle arrived. The journey was swift, some students over-excited at the prospect of their results, others apprehensive about what was to come.

As you arrived at the golden gates of the academy, you noticed that neither Viktor nor Jayce were in sight. Perhaps they had decided to go to the academy later?

The group of students walked up to the scoreboards, an army of others already huddled in front of them.

Sky went in search of her name, while you breathed in, waiting for other students to pass before you.

You didn't know what awaited you at the top of the board, which name would be at the head. Did it still matter? Yes, it probably did, or it didn't. Did you want it to matter? Probably not. But did your mind keep wandering? Endlessly.

What if Viktor was still number one - would you be disappointed? What if you were number one - would you be satisfied? And if neither he nor you were number one, would you be revolted?

“Look who it is!”

That voice alone was enough to make you frown, raise your eyebrows and lower your eyelids in boredom.

Tyler.

You turned to him for a moment, him seeming pleased that you responded to his voice as you rolled your eyes and sighed.

“What do you want, blondie? Searching for a new name on the boards to torment?”

He chuckled, stepping toward you. “You don't change a winning team, darling. Have you found your place at the very bottom of the ranking?”

It was your turn to chuckle, turning to face him. He had no idea about your academic results, it seemed.

“Tyler you have as many neurons as you have eyes, and they're both fighting for any kind of connection.” You turned to the bulletin board, stepping forward slightly. “Do them mercy and close your eyelids for all eternity before we have to deal with a rain of fire and the horsemen and...”

But you didn't even finish your sentence, the words dying on your lips as your eyes came to rest on your name.

First place.

You were back in first place. Eyes and mouth wide open, you kept blinking to make sure your vision wasn't failing you. And the name underneath...

Viktor.

Your scores were almost equal, yours barely beating him.

“Told you I wasn't going to hold back.”

You turned towards the voice, the tinkle you now knew too well of his cane echoing on the floor. He stood there, serene, a small smile on his face before his lips pressed into an inverted grin and his eyebrows raised.

“You fight well, Miss.”

You couldn't help it - you cracked a smile at him. And Viktor seemed astonished, as if he'd never seen such a thing happen. No stupid remark, no pettiness behind your drawn lips, just sincere amusement and joy.

“What the...” Tyler's voice died in his throat as he took in the bulletin boards, turning to you. “How did you...”

You turned to him, his sole presence now not even enough to ruin your happiness and relief. “As if you could reach me,” you replied with a triumphant smile, walking out of the crowd to join Viktor.

Once you got away from all this tumult, he nodded. “You got first,” he remarked, “congratulations.”

You observed him for a second, his posture reflecting a sort of disappointment. Was it from losing? Or was it from the fact you seemed so happy in your rivalry with him? You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Quit it,” you pronounced with a smile, shaking your head slightly. “We share this crown, and you perfectly know that.”

He said nothing, just gazing at you for a moment. There was this gleam, the tickling of a smile ready to be born on his lips as the satisfaction that, maybe, these ink duels you were both fencing would wash away and let something different be born from them.

He was apprehensive about saying something, but Jayce came towards you both.

“Ah, Jayce, exams went well?” You asked, knowing without a doubt that he didn't have to worry about his results.

“Oh yeah, perfect.” He nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line, his eyes darting from yours to Viktor's, surprised that you weren't quarrelling. “Say, hum... can I talk to you guys for a minute?”

Viktor and you exchanged a confused look, before ultimately following him.

“A masquerade?” you repeated, as if the word had never grazed your lips before.

Jayce had brought you to a room in the Academy where you could all talk without hearing the multiple cries of students as to their result. And considering what he had to discuss with you, he'd done the right thing.

“It's this thing Mel is invited to,” he explained nervously. “All the people of high aristocracy will be there, counselors, lords and ladies... Please, can you both accompany me to it?”

“As your dance partners?” joked Viktor, frowning.

“No, Mel's already my partner. But, she said that there would be no opposition for you both to come as well. You're the,” he seemed to search for words for a moment, ”croom dé la cram?”

“Crême de la crême?” you suggested.

He pointed at you, glad you understood. “Yeah, that. La crême de la crême of the Academy. Such prestigious students as the both of you sharing the top of the board deserve to be in such an event.”

“So you want us,” you pointed repeatedly between Viktor and yourself, ”to come to this event because you're too nervous to go there by yourself?”

The interested party scratched the back of his neck, sniffling before looking at you both with puppy-dog eyes. “Yeah?”

“Aren't you supposed to have a partner to come to a masquerade?” Interrogated Viktor.

“I thought you two could... go together?”

You chuckled, your mouth hanging open. You exchanged a bewildered look with Viktor, who didn't seem to be too upset by the concept.

“You're joking, right?” you asked.

“Please just-” he didn't finish his sentence, “put your bickering aside for one evening. You don't even have to show up together if it suits you better.”

“I don't see any problems with it,” Viktor shrugged, indifferent. “When is it?”

"Tomorrow night."

“Tomorrow night?” You exclaimed. “Jayce, if it's a society gala, I've got nothing to wear.”

He reached into his own wallet, pulled out some bills and handed them to you.

“Here, I'm sure you'll find something convenient with this.”

“Jayce,” you remarked, looking at the fresh bills, “what the hell.”

“This is not much for you to get a decent gown for the gala. Keep the rest, if there is any, to get some fancy accessories.” He grabbed your hand, placing the cash in it. “Truly, this is the least I can do.”

You knew Jayce's patrons were the Kiramman’s, but to have money to give away like this? Since when was that the case?

“Vik, I think it's time for us to go.” Jayce finally remarked before leaving the room, leaving the two of you.

You both stayed in silence for a moment, both digesting the information that had just been given to you.

“What a way to celebrate your victory,” Viktor finally sighed.

“I've seen worse celebrations than a masquerade,” you remarked, observing the tickets for a moment before folding them up, “but I think I've had better experiences than being in a room with nobility sipping glasses of champagne with petty innuendo in every exchange.”

He huffed in turn. “I suppose the next area in which we must excel in no time is the art of conversation in high society. Although, considering our usual conversation,” he leaned his head to the side with a smirk, "we'll fit right in."

“How exciting,” you raised your eyebrows sarcastically, letting silence take its rule back on the room before you finally decided to break it. ”Guess I better go and find myself something to wear. See you tomorrow, Viktor.”

“Wait,” he called to you, seeming hesitant about what he was going to suggest, ”would you like us to get together first and go? Or...”

“Let's meet directly at the party,” you assured him.

He nodded, his lips pressing in a thin line as you turned away. “Oh and...” you turned back to him at his words, his eyes piercing. “Don't forget the mask.”

You nodded, leaving the room.

You had today and tomorrow to find an outfit, and get used to the fact that Viktor was no longer a threat to be eliminated. Easier said than done.

But still… What a way to celebrate a rebirth.

✦﹒ previous chapter ✦﹒ next chapter

#a crown of ink #acoi #arcane #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor fic #viktor fanfic #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader

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digitaldaydreamm · 8 hours ago

Text

unspoken claim

rafe cameron x childhood friend!reader

| summary | your regular night routine

warnings: rafe curses once lol

masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

You didn’t know how it happened—how you always ended up at Tannyhill. It just did.

The evening had settled in by the time you threw yourself onto the well-worn couch in the Camerons’ living room. Rafe was in the kitchen, grabbing snacks you knew would inevitably consist of junk food.

“Don’t touch the remote!” he yelled from the other room.

You didn’t listen. You flipped to your favorite reality show, grinning to yourself as the theme music started up.

Rafe returned a second later, arms full of bags of chips and cans of soda. He glanced at the screen, rolled his eyes, and dropped onto the couch next to you—close enough that his arm brushed yours.

“Seriously?” he muttered, already half a chip in his mouth. “This shit again?”

“You love it,” you said, nudging his knee with yours.

He didn’t argue. Instead, he stretched an arm across the back of the couch, right behind where you sat. You could feel the weight of his hand against your shoulder without him even touching you.

It was strange, the way you could be here—just friends—and not think too hard about the proximity. It had always been like that with Rafe. You didn’t remember when it started, or when it stopped feeling odd. It just was.

“Hey,” he said, interrupting your thoughts.

You turned, only to find him holding his hand out to you.

“Gimme the remote.”

“No.”

“Kid.” His voice dropped just enough to sound like a warning.

You smirked, clutching the remote to your chest. “You’re gonna have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands.”

Rafe leaned in closer then, his face just inches from yours, that teasing smirk pulling at his lips. “Don’t tempt me.”

It was stupid—so stupid how easily he could fluster you, even when he wasn’t trying.

You didn’t remember when it got so late, or when the bags of chips were emptied and the soda cans scattered across the coffee table. But eventually, the lights dimmed, the reality show had ended, and Rafe was lying with his feet propped up on the far arm of the couch while you curled up in the corner with your knees pulled to your chest.

Sleepovers with Rafe happened often enough that they didn’t require much thought. You stayed here so often you had your own drawer in the guest room—or you would if you didn’t always end up stealing Rafe’s shirts and sleeping in his room instead.

“C’mon,” Rafe said, his voice low and soft as he nudged you gently with his foot. “You’re gonna fall asleep here.”

“I’m comfortable,” you mumbled, but you were already yawning.

Rafe didn’t give you the option to argue. He got up, grabbed your arm, and pulled you off the couch despite your half-hearted protests.

You followed him upstairs, rubbing at your eyes, too tired to care how automatic this routine felt—like you belonged here just as much as he did.

When you stepped into Rafe’s room, you headed straight for the bathroom without needing to ask. Your toothbrush was still in its place next to his in the en-suite, and a clean T-shirt (probably his) was folded neatly on the counter.

You changed without thinking twice, slipping the oversized shirt over your head before padding barefoot back into his room. Rafe was already sprawled out on his bed, one arm tucked under his head as he watched you settle on the opposite side.

He didn’t say anything.

The silence was familiar—comfortable as you curled up beneath the blanket. You could feel his gaze lingering on you just for a second before he reached over and turned out the lamp on his nightstand.

“Night, bub,” he muttered.

“Night, Rafe.”

And somehow, it wasn’t strange to be here—sleeping in his bed, his T-shirt hanging loosely around your frame, like you hadn’t both accidentally stumbled into this routine years ago and forgotten to question it.

You didn’t question it now, either.

Because Rafe Cameron never needed to say you were his.

He just showed you.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x childhood friend!reader #obx kooks #obx pogues

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sturnlsstuff · 2 days ago

Text

FAMILIAR STRANGER | chapter six

what's gonna happen when you find out about your enemy's biggest secret?

ghostface!chris x enemy!reader

chapter five

— warnings; smut with plot, dom!chris, sub!reader, fingering, unprotected p in v, rough, creampie, dirty talk, pet names, bratty reader, cursing, - english isn't my first language.

~~~

you have gone through many stressful situations in your life. most of the time you didn't care about anything, always chilling and thinking logically, not emotionally. however, there were moments when even you started losing your shit and they were always more intense than they should have been. one of them, for example, was taking your driving test, which kept you up at night. or your 18th birthday that stressed you out so much that you had to drink a bottle of wine alone before the party to get rid of the anxiety. or choosing what college you wanna go to, and whether you'll even get there or not. lots of stressful days in your life, lots of situations.

but your heart had never beat as fast as it did in this moment.

your thumb hovering over the 'send' button while you consider all the pros and cons of what you're doing. biting your lower lip nervously, feeling the taste of blood in your mouth, but even this doesn't stop you. you had to make a decision whether to text chris or not, and that wasn't supposed to be so stressful, but it was.

after he left you alone in his room at the party, you didn't see him at all. after fixing your makeup, you went back downstairs and found emma, telling her you were going home, needing to process whatever happened in chris's room and how it made you feel. she knew you were with someone, anyone would notice by the state you were in, even if you tried to make yourself look presentable for twenty minutes in front of the mirror in chris's room. somehow you managed to get rid of emma and her questions for now, ignoring her for two days. in fact ignoring everyone, needing some time alone, but it didn't feel like you were by yourself at all, with the way chris was in your mind every second of the day.

finally, before you could change your mind, you sent the message and threw your phone to the other end of the couch, hugging your legs to your chest and clutching your heated cheeks as if that would somehow help you. tense silence remains in the living room for the next two minutes, as you start to regret texting him.

another five minutes and you finally reach for your phone, ready to delete the message when you see three dots showing that he is replying. with w muffled scream, your phone flies across the room as you throw it again, a notification indicating a new message heard. for a second you just sit still, wheels turning in your head, but then you almost jump from your place, your legs on the couch, the rest of your body hanging off it as you steady yourself with one hand on the floor, the other picking up your phone and reading the message. you could feel the blood rushing to your head.

"bitch," you mutter to yourself, looking at the screen in pure disbelief. there's no way you were stressing for the past hour to send that fucking simple message, overthinking all night if you should even text him and how to do it to not sound too desperate, even wondering if three question marks is too much and maybe you should put one, and he just said he's busy.

unfortunately for him, you weren't a person who gave up easily, and if you finally decided to talk to him, you will do everything to make it happen. so you reply back, not having to wait for his response too long.

you roll your eyes, upset that you even tried to start any conversation with him, that you wasted the entire day yesterday and today thinking about him when he was clearly busy and definitely not overthinking anything like you did. you're not only mad at him, but also at yourself for being so stupid. after all it was chris, there's nothing to talk about here. he had his way with you and that's it, nothing changes.

not that you wanted it to change anyway.

leaving him on seen, you decide to take care of yourself a little bit, to relaxe since this stress made you feel and look terrible, bags under your eyes after two sleepless nights. so the next hour you spend in your bathtub, cool music filling your ears as you read a book, careful not to make it wet.

then you hear a noise coming from your room, at first thinking it's some hallucination from the lack of sleep, so you stop the music and listen, immediately hearing another muffled bang that makes you jump out of the tub, almost soaking your book. cursing under your breath, you wrap a towel around your waist, looking around to find anything which could be useful in defense. all you find is a glass flowerpot, so you take it, poking your head out from behind the bathroom door.

silence.

you carefully step out of the bathroom, water dripping onto the floor from your body as you walk slowly barefoot towards your room where the door was slightly open. it seemed stupid to go there, but you were acting out of adrenaline.

you heard another curse and the sound of the window closing, a frown appearing between your eyebrows as you gently opened the door, ready to attack whoever the fuck was in your room, clutching the flowerpot in one hand and holding the towel that was sliding off your body with the other.

"chris, what the fuck?!" your eyes wide as he turns around to look at you, dressed as a ghostface.

"i got fuckin' stuck," he removes his mask, running his hand through his hair, eyes immediately traveling up and down your wet body, covered by nothing but some thin towel.

immediately pressing the material against your body, now feeling strangely naked, your expression questioning him before your mouth could. he rolls his eyes, "told ya to remember 'bout closin' this fuckass window, didn't i?" he takes off his robe, leaving him in black pants and a t-shirt, his gaze had not left your figure, a strange shiver pass through him, which he only felt around you. "i knocked on the door, but you didn't answer again."

"couldn't you call me?"

he blinks stupidly, his eyes moving back up, "right." then he notices the flower pot in your hand, a low mocking laugh leaving his lips, "wanted to kill me with this?"

you glance at the flower pot, rolling your eyes and walking into the room to put it on the desk, feeling his eyes on you. "i was taking a bath, you idiot—" turning around, you almost jump when he's suddenly in front of you.

"i noticed," he smirks, tilting his head to the side. you try to ignore his intense gaze, "what do you want anyway?"

"you wanted to talk."

"weren't you busy?"

"took care of that," he retors. your eyebrow arches up as you peak out behind him at the mask and knife placed on the bed. "yes," he simply says, noticing your expression. you didn't need to know anything else.

"well, okay," clearing your throat, you grab some clean clothes from the dryer. "let me get dressed first."

"no need to rush," at the stare you give him, chris lifts his hands up in surrender and flops on your bed just as you leave the room.

you put on some shorts and a two size too big shirt, quickly cleaning up the bathroom as well. honestly, you were playing on time. you didn't expect him to come after he definitely said no in the text, and now you had no idea what to tell him, and the stress you were feeling earlier came back stronger than before.

finally finding the courage you leave the bathroom, finding chris in the living room looking at the photos you had on the wall. stopping in the doorway, you quickly tie your hair into a ponytail.

"i remember that," he points at one picture with you, him, his brothers and nate on it after one of your old friend's birthday party. you liked this one a lot.

"crazy night—"

"we danced together," he says casually though his voice a little weaker as if the memory of it was doing something to him. you're taken back that he even remembers since he was awfully high that night.

"yeah..." your voice unsure since neither of you ever mentioned it before. "-- yeah, we did."

the corner of his mouth twitches into a smile but he quickly hides it, licking his lips and settling on the couch. you take the seat next to him, keeping your distance.

after a short silence, he speaks up, "it was fun. that party." you agree with a nod of your head. that night you two were pretty chill, he was high, you were drunk and both of you just had fun, for a few hours not remembering that you disliked each other. sometimes you thought of it and wondered why couldn't it be like this all the time.

"so," he clears his throat, getting more comfortable on the couch, arm resting on the back of the sofa as he looks at you. "what's this super important conversation you've wanted to have with me?" his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"uh, right... about that—" you think about how to put it into words, heart pounding in your chest while your brain working at full speed. finally you just blurt out mindlessly, "we fucked."

chris raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, "really? didn't notice."

you open your mouth and then close it again, trying to ignore his comment. taking a deep breath, you continue, "i mean... well, i was kind of drunk, let's be honest. so i didn't think—"

"c'mon, kid, we both know you'd fuck me even sober," he rolls his eyes, slight annoyance in his tone at the clear delusion coming from you.

"that's literally not even close to what i'm talking about..." a wave of heat washes over you from embarrassment of being called out like that. you had to find some excuse, because to be honest, you didn't know how you ended up in chris's bed. well, you knew how, but you needed some explanation for yourself. though, what you're for sure aware of, is that the desire and arousal you felt was real. "it was, like, another moment of weakness."

"you got a lot of 'em with me recently," he teases, scanning your face as if looking for something. for a moment you were speechless from the intensity of his blue eyes. and chris noticed it. of course he did. "it was good though..." he adds, his voice lower now.

you try hard not to look too nervous while agreeing, "yeah... it was." his lips curve into that smirk you knew so well while he shamelessly checked you out again, his eyes lingering on your exposed thighs for too long. noticing that, you quickly add, "it shouldn't have happened and we won't do it again."

"yeahhhh," his tongue clicks against his teeth. chris makes eye contact with you again and that's when you know you're screwed. "we won't."

with these words you look at each other too long and too intensely, almost as if communicating between the words. and you didn't even know when or how you ended up straddling his lap, gripping his shoulders desperately trying to steady yourself while he pumps his fingers rapidly into your cunt, curling them up to hit that sweet spot inside you. his thumb rubs circles around your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. the ghostface mask is back on his face, making you clench around his fingers. it all happened in less than ten minutes, that's how weak you were for chris and how addicted to you he's become.

"mhmmm, look at you... so fuckin' pretty, drippin' all over my hand..." he says, his voice hoarse with arousal. his cock was rock hard already, uncomfortably straining against his pants. "your body doesn't lie, even if your mouth does," chris watches you closely, taking note of the way your chest heaves, lips parted with little whimpers escaping them.

"chris— mmmh, f-fuck.... so... so g-good— oh!" your walls tighten around his fingers, hips slightly grinding against his hand. he flexes his fingers inside you, stretching you, his thumb on your clit picking up speed.

he smirks to himself at how responsive you are to him, "you jus' fuckin' love when i manhandle you, huh?" he adds a third finger, scissoring them, his other hand tugging on your hair, forcing you to keep your eyes on his mask. chris was now aware of the effect it had on you and it was making him so turned on. "constantly tryin' to make me mad, messin' with my fuckin' head, kid... not really nice of you."

you let out a loud pornographic moan when his fingers once again curl inside you, hitting your g-spot perfectly, his thumb pressing more against your bud. at the feeling of you tightening around him, a low groan escapes his lips. "thaaaat's it— yes, c'mon, give it to me... show me how bad you fuckin' hate me..."

"chris!" your eyes roll back as euphoria consumes you, head dropping forward onto his shoulder. "my... god...f-fuck you—"

he pumps his fingers languidly to ride out your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure for as long as he can. "mhm, i will," he smirks, slowing down his movements. "no need to rush, princess." he finally pulls his fingers out of you, lifting up your head, "open up."

as you obey, he brings his fingers into your mouth, your tongue immediately cleaning them up, tasting your own release on your tongue. "fuckkk—" he bucks his hips up, his clothed hardness pressing against your swollen bud, stealing another whimper from you.

you were sure you had lost your mind. you really wanted to make it clear today, that what happened at friday couldn't happen again, but it was so hard when he was... him.

"chris, we need to stop," you say as soon as he removes his fingers out of your mouth, immediately placing them back between your legs, gently caressing your swollen folds and spreading your wetness around, which makes you flinch from the over sensation.

"stop sayin' that when you react so strongly to me," his other hand moving to unzip his pants and pull them down his hips, freeing his leaking with precum dick. you look at him, the ghostface mask sending shivers straight into your core and you already know there's no coming back. "so?" he asks, gripping your hips, "still wanna stop?"

"no," you mutter annoyed at the way he was making you feel. chris bites his bottom lip with a grin, his body begging for any kind of release. he's never wanted anyone so badly. he lifts you up a little, then impaling you on his length in one swift, deep motion. both of you moan, his head throwing back at the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. he missed this.

"fuckkk, you jus' feel so good..." he praises, holding you still for a moment to savor the feeling of being burned inside you. then he starts pounding into you, his grip on your hips painful as he doesn't let you move at all, wanting to have the control over everything.

"...what a fuckin' slut you are f'me— jesus..." he looks down, watching as he slams deep into your heat, not caring about the noises or the mess. he's too far gone to worry about anything expect the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his dick. "sooo perfect, fuck— and what'd you say, huh?" he pants, looking up at your full of pleasure expression. "not happening again? fuckin' watch."

you're practically bouncing on him from the strength with which chris fucks you from below, your walls immediately clenching around him, the overstimulation from your previous orgasm makes your head spin.

"chris, s-so-- deep..." you whine, gasping for air as he changes the position to get a better angle. he flips you onto your back on the sofa, pressing your knees against your stomach which caused him to go even deeper.

"yeah? you like to feel my fuckin' cock? look..." his fingers wraps around your wrist and he moves your hand to the noticeable bulge in your gut as he slides in and out of your wet pussy. the feeling of him like that, makes your toes curl as you quickly feel your second release approaching.

"gonna... c-cum! oh—" your whines and moans now filling the room with chris's eventual groans when he feels you constantly clenching around his dick.

"come all over me, c'mon... and m'gonna fill you up, yeah? gonna do it so fuckin' deep, you'll be leakin' my shit for days..." he snarls, his thrusts becoming harder as another orgasm washes over you, your eyes locked on his ghostface mask, even if you could barely keep them open. he doesn't even slow down while you tremble from the intensity of your release, moans leaving your lips and back arching up. "squeezin' me so tight, shiiittt— you were made f'me...."

with a feral groan, he buries himself as deep as he can, his dick pulsing as he explodes inside you, his hot seed filling your cunt to the brim. both of you panting, chris props himself on his hands of each side of your body so as not to crash you with his weight. both of you panting heavy, your eyes now closed while you try to come back on earth.

once the last waves of his climax subside, he pulls out with a wet squelch, his cum dripping out of your hole. a smirk appears on his lips at your disheveled form as he takes the mask off, pulling back to have a better look on your swollen, glistening cunt. just as your legs weakly were about to drop onto the couch, he grips your thighs, keeping you spread open for him. "that's a sight..." he runs a finger through the mess he'd made, making you whimper. "sensitive much?" his tone mocking. his fingers slipping between your folds, gathering as much as he could of his and yours release and pushing it back inside, a muffled scream escaping you.

"chris!" you smack his hand away, your legs automatically try to close. he tsks, his face full of mock innocence, "what? just cleanin' you up." his eyes glistening when he makes eye contact with you and he adds, "unless you wan' me to lick it off instead?"

"no, thanks," you mutter fully aware he'd love to overstimulate you.

"a'ight, drama queen," he rolls his eyes, grabbing the tissues from the coffee table, cleaning his own mess before passing them to you. he sits up, pulling his pants up while you proper yourself on your elbows, starting to clean up.

a silence remains in the living room, he takes a rolled joint from his pocket, placing it between his lips, and looks towards you noticing how your hands and legs are shaking a little. you weren't able to clean yourself thoroughly, the mix of your and his cum running down your inner thighs.

"kid," he lights up the joint, taking a long drag. "the fuck you doin'?"

you give him a death stare, "it's quite clear to see."

he exhales, smoke billowing out as he speaks, "but, like... you don't— just..." he groans, putting the joint back between his lips, his voice muffled, "--fuckin' gimme it... can't even clean y'self up, jesus... so annoying..."

chris practically snatches the tissues from your hands as he spreads your legs, ignoring your confused and surprised expression. he simply starts wiping the mess between your legs, his touch strangely tender, "can't do shit with that shaky ass hands..." he keeps commenting under his nose more to himself than to you, the smoke from his joint filling the room.

you watch mesmerized, as he grabs the joint between the fingers of one hand, the other still focused on the task, his tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth in concentration. he was gentle, or at least chris tried to be when he saw how red and puffy your pussy looked. it was such a simple action but it made your heart do a backflip. and not only you felt this way, chris himself was somehow, almost nervous.

he finally catches up on your stare, a frown appearing between his eyebrows, "the fuck you lookin' at..." his eyes traveling to the marks he left on your hips, some of the bruises older from friday, others fresh and reddish. this sight fills him with a sense of pride. he finally leans back on the couch, throwing the used tissues aside, glancing back at you. "stop starin', kid."

your face all flushed as you finally tear your eyes away from his and manage to sit up, adjusting your shirt and looking around for your sweatpants.

"here," he hands them to you, taking another drag on his joint. you put your clothes back on, wondering what the hell was going on.

you sit next to him still slightly breathless, after a moment he passes you the joint, neither of you looking at each other as you take it.

"y'know..." chris finally speaks up, "for someone who claims to hate me so much, you sure do let me do all sorts of nasty things to ya."

that's what causes you to finally make eye contact with chris, annoyance flickering through your face at the sudden call out. "for someone who claims to hate me so much, you sure want to do a lot of nasty things to me."

he smirks amused at your response, looking like you exhale the smoke. "well, yeah, hating you and being insanely attracted t'you aren't mutually exclusive, y'know..." you raise your eyebrows as he continues, "besides i never said i hated you, i jus' said i hated you."

the clear confusion and how your cheeks were burning after his words, makes chris's grin widen. "what the fuck is the difference?"

"don' worry 'bout it," he retors, grabbing the joint from between your fingers to finish it.

"insanely attracted to me, huh?" you process his words. chris rolls his eyes, "insanely is a strong word actually, what i meant is—"

"nuh, uh," you interrupted him with a grin on your face, pointing your finger at him. "you said what you wanted to say."

"no, i—

"lalala, i can't hear youuuu," you cover your ears like a kid, the mix of annoyance and amusement building up within him. "you're a child," he puts out the butt of the joint in some empty can on the coffee table, and takes your hands away from your ears. "child."

you just smile, feeling unfamiliar warm spreading across your chest. it was strange, chris usually saw you smiling but at other people, not at him. it made him want to... kiss you? hold you?

"weirdo," he mutters, leaning back, but there's no usual bite in his tone. his arm rests on the back of the sofa behind you, his wheels turning around in his head. he glances at your side profile, his tongue clicking against his teeth, "i always wondered why you were with this idiot jake." you're taken back, glancing at him with a frown, but it doesn't discourage him from continuing. chris felt like he has to. "you were always annoying, but i thought you're better than that. he had no idea how to treat you right and you kept comin' back to him, what was insane to me. he was just a dick—"

"you wouldn't understand..."

"no, i definitely fuckin' wouldn't," he retors annoyed. "so m'not even gonna try, but he was pissin' me the fuck off. i was waitin' for the day you finally leave him for good."

"it wasn't that simple," you try to explain, but chris wasn't having any of that. "kid, don' bullshit me. you even try to defend him now when he's gone? don't tell me you..."

"no, i try to defend myself, 'cause you don't get it," you interrupt, not wanting to hear whatever he was going to say. "he was awful, but at that time i kinda just... craved affection, i guess," your cheeks heat with embarrassment. "and sometimes he was giving me that."

"what affection he could give ya? bet, he fuckin' sucked. and you deserve to get affection and all this other shit all the time, not just sometimes. that's fucked up."

"and what do you know about all of that?" you question him, which annoys the hell out of chris. "every week you have a new girl to fuck, then moving on to the next one."

he knows you're right, chris had no clue how to show affection either, he never was good at this because he simply never let himself attach to anyone. but he knew, if he had you, he would never be like your ex. chris would try his best to make sure you know you're loved.

"there's nothing wrong with that, they all know m'not lookin' for a relationship. i always tell 'em at the beginnin' that it's only a hook up. i don' play anyone..."

"always?" when chris nods, you add, "i didn't hear you saying that to me."

now he's surprised, quickly hiding it, but the way his eyes scanned your face was telling you everything you needed to know.

"well..." he slowly licks his lips, carefully thinking of his next words. "i never... i mean, i knew we'd do it again at some point... but i just— fuck, i don' know..."

your voice is dripping with sarcasm when you say the next sentence, but there was genuine curiosity behind it, "maybe deep down you expected something?"

his expression is unreadable, but chris's heart was beating so hard, he was afraid you'd hear. the question you asked stirred weird feelings inside him and he had to get out of this situation fast. you knew one of his deepest secrets already, there was no way he'd let you know his other ones.

"be serious, kid," his smirk doesn't reach his eyes. "enough with that talk. i gotta go..."

his reaction saying more than he would ever say. you watch as he stands up, "i am serious and you're running away right now—"

"shut your goddamn mouth for once, holy fuck," he snaps at you, gripping the bridge of his nose. "i have shit to do so i'm leavin', simple as that. not that is any of your business anyway."

your blood boil at his words but you don't say anything else. you were afraid your voice would betray you, so watching him gathering his stuff from your room and then hearing the front door shutting, was all you did.

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck

#sturnlsstuff ❦ [ghostface!chris]#❦ ghostface!chris x enemy!reader ❦#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x fem reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x fem!reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader

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spiderb00 · 1 day ago

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SANTA DOSEN'T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO

Sophia Laforteza X Reader

“As you drive to Sophia's house, you remember all the times you had together, and you're sure you need to get your girl back”

Genre – fluff n angst Warnings – none fruitcake masterlist

Now playing – Santa dosen’t know you like i do, by Sabrina Carpenter

The streets were full, the bright lights were scattered everywhere, and the Christmas spirit seemed to hover over everyone, all the time. All you wanted was to get to your destination as quickly as possible. Stopping at a red light, you looked at the passenger seat, empty, as did your heart. The feeling of loss beating hard in your chest, and anguish grew with every minute you lost.

Sophia wasn't by your side, your Sophia. You never thought you were a needy person, nor a clingy person, but now, seeing that you couldn't stay even a week away from your girlfriend, you're not so sure anymore. You were also no longer sure if Sophia was your girlfriend, after all those stupid arguments – which started as bullshit – you were no longer sure of anything.

You and Sophia have been dating since Dream Academy, and in all that time, you've never had a fight that took more than ten minutes to make up. But here you were, hurrying to find Sophia, just like at the beginning of everything.

It was late, everything was dark, and you had just parked your car in front of your girlfriend's dorm. Sophia was having one of the worst weeks of her life, the survival show was killing her, physically and emotionally. She had already shared some of her frustrations with you, so you thought of a way to make her more relaxed happy, even if it was for one night.

Sophia jumped into the passenger seat of your car, the girl's tired countenance quickly being replaced by a smile. Leaning in, you and the Filipina exchanged a passionate kiss, pulling away and driving quickly away from the dorms so as not to be caught by anyone.

"I was stressed all day. They said it wouldn't be a survival show, and now Lexie is out..." Sophia collapsed as you put your hand on the girl's thigh, to comfort her. "I know this is my dream, but I just want it to end."

Stopping your car near the beach, you looked at your girlfriend, seeing how much she was struggling. You admire Sophia, you know you couldn't handle even half of what she's going through.

"Hey, the fact that it's your dream doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time, baby." You said, wiping tears from the Filipino girl's face. "I admire you, Sophia. You're the strongest girl I've ever met.

Smiling at you, Sophia leaned in, you meeting her on the way, initiating a tender and love-filled kiss, you would always be there for her no matter what.

After the light turned green, you headed towards the Kats' house, wiping away some tears that insisted on falling from your eyes. You knew that everything happens for the first time, but you swore to yourself that this would be the first and last time you were without your Sophia.

Everything reminded you of her, all the streets, all the songs that played on your car radio, and even when you tried to connect your playlist, all those songs were recommended by Sophia. It seems that you can't escape your destiny. And when you walked past a cookie shop, you were more and more sure of that statement.

"Your shirt is all stained with flour." Sophia said, laughing at you like a child.

All you wanted was to make gingerbread cookies to eat by watching a Christmas movie that was in the catalog on Netflix. Sophia had been recording all day Christmas content with the Kats, and she even came home sad about losing a mixer to Megan. But all the sadness dissipated with laughter and a lot of mess that you made in the kitchen.

With the cookies now in the oven, Sophia and you took the time to wash the dishes and put away the ingredients that were on the countertop. But it seems that you get distracted every time.

"Oh, yes?" You asked Sophia, as the girl laughed even more and nodded. "Alright, how about that?" Picking up a handful of flour with your hand, you brought it towards your mouth, blowing it all in the face of your beautiful girlfriend.

Sophia stopped laughing immediately, and the kitchen, which had previously been filled with laughter from the Filipino girl, was now filled with your laughter. Watching you laugh, Sophia hid the smile that was about to come out, and also took a handful of flour, throwing everything on your head. Stopping laughing, you looked at Sophia, who also looked at you briefly, before running up the stairs to get away from you.

When you finally parked at the Kats' house, at night it had already fallen, and you were getting out of the car with a bouquet in your hands, ready to have your girl back. Ringing the doorbell, and waiting, you saw a Yoonchae open the door. When the younger girl saw you, a smile came across her face.

"Yn, you've come! Will you talk to Sophia? Please talk to her!" Laughing lightly at the anxious girl in front of you, you agreed.

"Yes, I came to talk to her." You said, lifting the bouquet slightly.

"She's in the room." Yoonchae said, giving way for you to go to where she was indicating.

Walking to Sophia's room, you took a deep breath, banging on the door, listening to the girl inside tell you to come in. Sticking your head into the room, you saw Sophia sitting on the bed, the little laptop in front of her playing a recording of the two of you in the park at a nice picnic.

"I loved that day, it was one of the best days of my life." You said, entering the room and closing the door slightly.

"You spilled all your ice cream on your shirt because you couldn't eat it before it melted." Sophia replied, laughing lightly and trying to covertly wipe away the tears that fell from your eyes.

"Sophia, I'm sorry-"

"No, I'm sorry too, and I was being bossy-"

"No, I should have respected you, I mean, I should have taken your interests more seriously. Sorry, I don't know what got into me." You said. "I realize that I was being selfish, I already called my work and said that I won't be able to work at Christmas. It's okay, they've already managed to replace me, I don't even know why I considered accepting that. Everything I want for my Christmas is in front of me. I love you, Sophia."

Sophia smiled, a big smile as the woman leaned over and kissed your lips, putting her hands on your cheeks and caressing the spot with her thumb. The kiss was full of passion and longing, trying to make up for all the lost time of these last days. You felt on top of the world, and you promised yourself that you would never do something like that again.

Santa would never bring you another Sophia, you wouldn't miss this one.

Just three more stories for fruitcake, tomorrow we will have the angst with Daniela. I am so sad 😭

I'm loving fruitcake, but I want to finish it soon, I really want to focus on the requests

xoxo, spider.

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #kpop gg #gxg #sophia laforteza x reader #kpop fluff #daniela avanzini x reader #lara raj x reader #fruitcake w katseye

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moralesluvr · 1 day ago

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SOLO | b. eilish.

the first thing you notice when you wake up is the emptiness.

rays of sun cut through your bedroom like lasers, peaking through the slit blinds that match your half opened eyes. you blink for a second, your hand instinctively reaching out, brushing against the cold, untouched side of the bed. it feels cruel, the way it always does, like a reminder that you’ve been left to fill this space alone.

you sit up slowly, the sheets of your bed pooling around your waist, and stare at the pale morning light filtering through the blinds. the air feels heavy, thick with silence, and you wonder for the hundredth time how it all unraveled so quickly.

it wasn’t supposed to end like this.

the two of you had been like fire and gasoline, burning bright and destructive, crackling against each other. your highs were euphoric, a love so consuming it felt like the universe bent around it. but the lows… the lows were catastrophic.

“i can’t keep doing this with you.” she’d said that night, her voice breaking under the weight of her words. she had bags in hand, all of her belongings already packed up.

“so don’t,” you’d snapped, though your heart had already begun to fracture.

you and billie did this all the time. usually, you guys would bicker, yell at each other and pack your bags and leave. but you’d always find yourself sneaking back into the apartment late at night, glasses of wine and tangled limbs making the situation fade away.

but it was different now. her eyes had searched yours, desperate for something you couldn’t give her in that moment. peace, an apology— or even an answer to a question she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

you’d stood there, stubborn and aching, as she grabbed her bag and walked out the door. she said nothing. no goodbye, no last words, nothing.

you watched as years worth of memories and loving just walk out the door. so simply, so easily— it’s like she wasn’t even bothered by it.

but you told yourself she’d come back.

and she didn’t.

the mornings are the hardest. ever since she left, you can’t escape the memory of her voice calling out from the kitchen, gently placing warm cookies into your mouth or asking you to taste new recipes she cooked up.

and the afternoons aren’t much better. your phone sits untouched on the counter, a graveyard of texts left unanswered, calls that never came. your texts were green and unsent, all sixty-six of them, and your heart was breaking at the realization that she wasn’t coming back at all.

and at night, the walls feel closer, suffocating. you leave the tv on, hoping the noise will drown out the echo of your memory of her laugh, the way her smile lit up the room whenever you needed it to.

you try to distract yourself with work, with friends, with anything that keeps your mind from spiraling. you miss her. bad.

but the truth is, she’s in everything. you can’t escape her. she’s in every song you hear, every corner of your apartment, every stupid little thing that used to make her laugh.

you can’t catch a break at all.

one night, when the loneliness feels unbearable, you find yourself walking aimlessly through the cool air of LA. the streets are quiet, the sky above heavy with clouds that threaten rain.

you end up at the park you used to visit together, the one with the old, creaky swings and the lamppost that flickers just enough to be annoying.

you sit on the bench, staring at nothing. you can’t fixate on a single thing except her. her dark brown hair that contrasted with her piercing blue eyes, her laugh, her smile— it was sickening to you now. you felt your chest twist as you let out a sigh.

you thought hard about her. you had to let yourself feel. you thought about the way she’d pull you close when the wind picked up, the way she’d tilt her head back and laugh at something stupid you said.

the way she’d look at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. the way she kissed you with tenderness as you fell asleep in her arms.

you ran a hand through your hair, a blanket of distress and yearning falling over you as you slump into the bench.

you don’t know how long you sit there, lost in the past, until the first drop of rain hits your skin.

it starts slow, a soft patter that builds into a steady downpour. you don’t move.

it feels fitting, somehow, the rain washing over you, soaking through your clothes, as if it could cleanse the ache in your chest. you tilt your head back, letting the water run down your face, closing your eyes.

you can’t tell what’s the rain and what’s your own tears.

you feel yourself fall apart. because somewhere in the city, she’s living her life without you.

you wonder if she thinks about you, if she misses the way your fingers used to trace patterns on her skin, the way you’d hum her favorite songs under your breath.

but you don’t let yourself linger on the thought for too long. because you know, deep down, that she deserves peace. and if it isn’t you, you couldn’t really be bad.

and maybe— you’ll find yours too.

someday.

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 2 days ago

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4. When Santa was a Super Soldier

A Soldier's Touch < Masterlist > The Soldier, The Falcon and the Christmas Cheer

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: You and Bucky volunteer at a Children's Home

Word Count: 2.6k

There was chaos in the group home when you and Bucky arrived. In the background, you could see the warm glow of Christmas lights spilling out of the windows, the raucous sound of laughter from children permeated through the walls and the faint hum of holiday music made the place feel alive with festive cheer. You had convinced Bucky to come with you with almost a week of gentle persuasion. He had been very hesitant at first, worried that his presence would upset the children. But you had taken his hand in yours, and with that wonderful smile which reflected through your eyes, you’d said, “They won’t see the things you’re afraid of. They’ll see the strong, kind man I see every day.”

Now here he was, standing at the threshold of the large house, his shoulders hunched over. He shot you a skeptical glance and murmured, “You sure this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, your voice firm but warm. “Besides, who could be scared of Santa’s helper?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine, but I’m not wearing a stupid costume.”

Unfortunately your arrival wasn’t met with quite the enthusiasm that you’d expected. Instead of open arms, the staff had their arms raised in panic. In short, there was complete bedlam. One of them stopped when they spotted you and Bucky and stopped for a moment to explain and usher you in. Apparently, the janitor had agreed to play Santa and the orphanage had hired a suit for him and an elf suit for his wife. Unfortunately the janitor had called in sick, the couple had unfortunately come down with the flu, not uncommon at this time of year. The staff knew that they couldn’t risk the health of a lot of children despite the disappointment they would feel.

“We’re scrambling to find a replacement,” the staff member said apologetically, “but it’s short notice…”

You and Bucky are left standing alone in the corridor. Bucky had a grim expression, feeling like the dark cloud that surrounded him was expanding. “This was a bad idea.”

“Oh, no! I think we arrived just in time,” your eyes brightened and you grabbed his arm.

Bucky looked down at your mischievous face, understanding dawning on him. “No,” he said immediately, shaking his head.

“Bucky…” your voice filled with a mixture of reproach and pleading.

“I’m not doing it,” he said sullenly.

You tiptoed up to be closer to his face and lowered your voice. “Come on, Buck, they are just kids. You don’t want them to be disappointed, do you?”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, clenching his vibranium fist and your heart melted.

“They won’t judge you, baby. They are going to love you, just like I do. You’d make a great Santa. You’ve got the muscles for carrying all those toys. Plus, I bet you’d look great in red.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his jaw tight, before sighing deeply. “Fine. But if this backfires, you owe me pancakes for a month.”

With a beaming smile, you agreed, “Deal.”

While Bucky was herded off to the janitor’s closet to change into the Santa suit, you slipped into the elf costume the group home staff handed you, laughing to yourself at how ridiculous you looked. It was a flared velvety red dress with an emerald green jacket with matching stockings. By the time you returned to the main room, the children were clearly growing restless. Your appearance was greeted with cheers and the kids crowded around you asking after Santa. You did your best to placate them, while craning your neck to the door where you expected Bucky to enter from. When he did eventually step out moments later, his transformation was complete. The red suit fit snugly over his broad frame, a snowy white beard, and his hat slightly askew. He looked every bit the part, though his face betrayed his unease.

His appearance was met with a solemn silence, multiple pairs of innocent eyes round as saucers as they took in the sight of him. Under the fake beard, you could see Bucky’s face, his expression frozen, bracing for a rejection. But then a tall girl who was standing at the back yelled loudly, “Santa’s here!” The room erupted into cheers, and before Bucky could blink, the kids were swarming him, tugging on his suit and pulling him toward the chair set up by the tree.

“See?” you smirked and whispered under your breath as he passed you. It wasn’t very loud but you knew he would hear you. “They love you already.”

He shot you a look that was equal parts gratitude and exasperation, then settled into the chair, letting out a hearty, if slightly awkward, “Ho, ho, ho!”

You approached the young teen who had stayed out of the way of the smaller children. “Not interested in getting your gift requests in?” you smiled at her, twirling a candy cane between your fingers.

“Too old for that stuff,” she said with a shrug, crossing her arms in a way that seemed more like a shield, keeping people at arm’s length. Her eyes darted over to the cluster of kids already clambering over Bucky, their laughter ringing through the room as he hoisted a little boy onto his lap with surprising ease. The corners of her mouth twitched upward briefly before she looked away, feigning indifference.

You tilted your head, watching her for a moment. “Doesn’t mean you can’t still believe in a little magic,” you said gently.

She snorted, her tough exterior cracking just a little. “Magic doesn’t do much when you grow up.”

“I don’t know,” you said, glancing toward Bucky, who was now dramatically pretending to wobble under the weight of three kids climbing on him. “Looks like there’s some magic happening over there. And if you ask me, you’re never too old to hope for something good… or to let someone surprise you.”

The girl hesitated, her eyes flicking to the crowd around Santa Bucky. After a long moment of silence, she huffed and uncrossed her arms. “Fine, Mrs. Claus,” she said sarcastically. “But I’m not sitting on his lap.”

You smiled, walking up to Bucky alongside her. “Deal. But he’s a pretty good listener. You might want to give him a shot.”

As she approached the group, you stayed back, watching as she lingered at the edge of the crowd. You decided to get the other childrens’ attention by shouting, “Who wants candy canes?”

Immediately you were attacked by hundreds of sticky fingers, leaving the teenage girl alone. Bucky spotted her almost immediately, his sharp blue eyes softening under the ridiculous fake beard. He gestured for her to come closer with a warm smile, and to your surprise, she did. She sat down beside him and you tried to listen in but you couldn’t hear anything over the din of the squeaky voices demanding candy. Whatever she said to him made Bucky’s expression grow serious, and he nodded, responding with a calm, steady voice that seemed to make her relax. By the time she stood up, there was a faint smile on her face, and she looked lighter somehow, like a weight had lifted.

When she passed you on her way to the snack table, you couldn’t help but ask, “So, what’d you tell him?”

She shrugged again, but this time there was a spark in her eyes. “Nothing much. Just stuff I don’t really talk about. He… he was nice about it.”

“Yeah, he’s good at that.” You glanced back at Bucky who was laughing as a boy placed a candy cane under his nose like a mustache. “I think it's my turn to sit in Santa’s lap. What do you think?”

The young teen stopped and rolled her eyes at you, but an amused smirk appeared on her face. “You? On Santa’s lap? Aren’t you a little old for that?” she said a little sarcastically.

“Hey!” you cried defensively. “There’s no age limit on wish-making.”

A little boy pushed past the teen, “Move Sophie! Quit hogging the candy lady!” he squeaked.

You placed candy canes in the little hands that tugged at your skirt. “Besides,” you continued your conversation with Sophia, “Someone’s gotta make sure he’s doing his job right.”

She chuckled and walked off, shaking her head as she left. She strode towards the other children who offered her their snacks willingly. You turned to Bucky, your hands full with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, the bell on your hat jangled loudly as you approached him. He was currently helping a small boy untangle a ribbon from his hair. As if sensing your gaze, he looked up, catching your eye with a questioning tilt of his head as his eyes roamed over your attire.

“Don’t laugh,” you warned, pointing at him.

“Not laughing,” he replied, but his grin betrays him. “You’re adorable.”

“And you’re the most rugged Santa I’ve ever seen,” you teased back.

“Rugged Santa? I’ll take it, as long as you don’t expect me to wrestle a polar bear or something.”

Bucky’s smirk softened as his eyes dropped to the little boy cradled against his chest, his small hand clutching the edge of the red coat. “Well, looks like I’ve got my excuse,” he murmured, nodding toward the sleeping child. “Can’t wrestle a polar bear while I’m on babysitting duty.”

You smiled, stepping closer and lowering your voice to match his gentle tone. “That’s okay. You’re doing something way tougher.”

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Being someone he feels safe enough to fall asleep on,” you said, you nodded your head towards the toddler in his lap.

Bucky’s expression faltered for just a second, the usual guardedness in his eyes giving way to something raw and soft.

“Guess I can handle that,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You sat down on the large chair beside Bucky and held out the glass of milk. Bucky looked around and lowered his beard slightly so he could take a surreptitious sip from the glass. You smirked at the milk mustache that was left behind.

“You’re really good at this,” you say quietly, handing him a napkin.

He wiped his upper lip, looking down at the little boy in his arms, who was now fast asleep. “I didn’t think I would be,” he admitted. “But... they don’t look at me like I’m some kind of monster. They just see Santa.”

You placed a hand on his arm. “Because you’re not a monster, Buck. You’re a good man. And these kids? They see what I see.”

Bucky looked at you like he didn’t quite believe it but he desperately wanted to. The toddler in his arms stirred slightly and Bucky looked down, rocking back and forth gently until the boy settled again.

The evening ended with the group home staff gathering the children around the large tree to sing Christmas carols, with you and Bucky joining in, albeit reluctantly. One of the older kids, a boy of about ten, tugged on Bucky’s sleeve and asked, “Are you coming back next year, Santa?”

Bucky looked at you for a moment, then back at the boy. “You know what, kid? I just might.”

When it was finally time to leave, Bucky said goodbye to the kids, before speaking back to the janitor’s closet to take off his costume. He handed the red coat and beard back to the staff and you tugged on your coats and scarves. Things felt different as you stepped outside into the snowy evening, huddling together against the frosty weather.

Bucky looked down at your hand, his gloved fingers brushing briefly against yours between linking his fingers between yours. The two of you walked in silence for a while, Bucky’s face set in a contemplative frown. The loudest sound was your feet crunching in the snow. When you came to a street crossing, you both stopped, waiting for the signal to change.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he said in a low tone.

You looked up at him, quizzically.

“Today.”

“You did something amazing today,” you said softly.

“Being there with those kids, seeing them look at me like that… they just saw me, not the person I was. It was... it was like I could actually do something good for once.”

“You’ve always done good things, Buck,” you responded, your voice filled with sincerity. “Even when you didn’t believe it yourself.”

Bucky sighed, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of your hand. “I guess I’ve been waiting for some kind of sign,” he shrugged. “Something to say that I’m more than… him.”

“Buck, you gave those kids something they’ll remember for a long time, something special. That’s who you are. They saw you, the real you. The person I’ve always known.”

“Maybe I can be that guy. Someone who makes a difference.”

“You already are, Buck,” you wrapped your hand around his arm. “You’ve always been that guy.”

You kept walking, hand in hand. “Do you think we could… go back next year?” he asked sheepishly.

You smiled, warmth blossoming in your chest at his tentative tone. “I think they’d love that,” you replied softly. “I think they’d be pretty disappointed if Santa didn’t make an appearance again. They’ll be fighting for your attention.”

Bucky chuckled and for once the sound of joy seemed genuine, making your heart swell. “Seeing their faces today...” he trailed off, shaking his head. “It felt right, you know? Like… maybe I can be something good for someone.”

“You already are,” you reminded him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re good for me. And for those kids, you were their hero today.”

He glanced sideways at you, his blue eyes soft under the glow of the Christmas lights strung along the street. “You really think so?” he whispered.

“I know so,” you said firmly. “And if we go back next year, you can be their hero all over again.”

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “in a way, I hope we don’t see all the same kids back at the home next year.”

You glanced up at him, surprised. “Oh?”

He nodded, his gaze distant as if he were picturing each of their faces. “Especially not Sophie,” he added after a moment, referring to the teenage girl. “She’s been through enough. She deserves more than a Santa suit and a few presents once a year.”

“She deserves a home,” you said gently, your heart aching at the thought. “A real home.”

Bucky nodded, his jaw tightening temporarily. “Yeah. A real family. People who’ll stick around, who’ll love her the way she deserves…” he paused and then sighed. “All of them do.”

“You really care about them, huh?” you smiled, your voice soft with admiration.

“How could I not?” he replied, his lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. “They remind me of... I don’t know… a feeling of being lost. Searching for something better.” He glanced down at you, his blue eyes shadowed but open. “If they can find it... well then, maybe there’s hope for me too.”

You stopped walking, pulling him gently to a halt so you could look at him fully. “There’s already hope for you, Bucky,” you said with quiet conviction.

He didn’t respond right away, just watched you, his expression unreadable but slowly softening at the edges. Then he nodded.

“Next year,” he said, his lips curving into a small smile. “But if Sophie’s not there, I’ll be okay with that.”

“So will I,” you agreed as you started walking again.

@lives-in-midgard @baw1066 @lomlbuckybarnes @woodinnn

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #a soldier's second chance

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mattsobvimyfav · 3 days ago

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roommates (matthew sturniolo)

pt 17 -

I woke up to a splitting headache and the faint light of the morning streaming through the curtains. My mouth was dry, my head pounding, and my stomach churned slightly from last night’s drinks. Groaning, I reached out to my bedside table and grabbed my phone, squinting at the screen.

The first thing I noticed was the barrage of notifications from Chris.

Chris: Whate the fuck y/n?

Chris: What you already find someone new.

Chris: Let me guess. Matt?

Chris: Your such a bitch.

Chris: When you wake up, come to my room.

I cringed, my thumb hovering over our conversation. I didn’t even remember what I’d sent him. My anxiety spiked as I scrolled up, of course my dumb drunk self texted him.

“Jesus,” I whispered to myself, dropping the phone onto my chest.

As I shifted in bed, my gaze flickered across the room to Matt. He was sprawled out on his bed, the blanket half hanging off his body, his chest rising and falling peacefully. For someone who was such a fucking dick, he looked completely unbothered.

I rolled my eyes, the memory of him in that stupid ghost face costume resurfacing. My head hurt too much to even unpack my feelings about that yet.

I turned back to my phone, rereading Chris’s last message: When you wake up, come to my room.

Sliding out of bed as quietly as I could, I grabbed some clothes and tiptoed to the bathroom. The last thing I wanted was to deal with Matt right now. After throwing on a pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie, I ran a brush through my hair and tied it back into a messy bun.

My reflection in the mirror screamed hungover mess, but I didn’t have the energy to do much about it. Satisfied enough, I slipped out of the dorm room, leaving Matt to his peaceful sleep.

My heart was racing as I made my way to Chris’s room. What did he want to talk about? What could he possibly say? And more importantly, why had I texted him?

Chris opened the door, his expression tense but composed. He stepped aside silently, letting me in without a word. I hesitated before walking into his dorm room, unsure how this conversation was going to go.

The door clicked shut behind me, and I turned to face him. He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, watching me carefully.

“You wanted to talk,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” he replied. “We need to clear the air, Y/N.”

I nodded and sat on the edge of his bed, my hands fidgeting in my lap. “Okay. So talk.”

Chris let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “What’s going on with you and Matt?” he asked, his tone firm.

My stomach sank at the question. I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “Chris, I…I don’t know, Nothing has happened between me and Matt since we started whatever we had” I admitted,

Chris tilted his head, his jaw tightening. “You don’t know,” he repeated, the words heavy with frustration and hurt.

I looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “No, I don’t,” I said quietly. “I liked you. I really did. But then I found out about you and that volleyball girl, and it just…killed whatever feelings I had.”

Chris took a step closer, his hands dropping to his sides. “I’m sorry for what I did,” he said, his voice softer now. “I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have been with her while I was with you. But, Y/N, let’s not pretend this was something it wasn’t.”

I frowned, finally looking up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I knew I was just a placeholder,” Chris said bluntly, though his voice wasn’t unkind. “I knew you had something for Matt, even if you didn't know it ,and I knew I was just…the guy you picked to distract yourself. And I let it happen because I liked you enough to take what I could get.”

“That’s not fair,” I said defensively,

“It’s the truth,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. “I wanted you to pick me, Y/N. I wanted you to choose me. But you never did. You were never all in.”

I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “Neither were you Chris,” I whispered.

“I know,” Chris said, his voice soft but firm.

The room fell silent, his words hanging heavy in the air. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, the weight of his honesty pressing down on me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking.

“I know,” Chris replied. “But this isn’t about me forgiving you. It’s about you figuring out what you want.”

I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I don’t know what I want,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Then figure it out,” Chris said gently but firmly. “For your sake, not mine or his.”

I stood up, wiping my tears away. “Thank you,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure what I was thanking him for.

Chris gave me a small, sad smile. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. Just…be honest with yourself.”

I nodded and walked to the door, before I could leave he pulled me back into a tight hug and just like times before I melted into his touch. I let go first and he did after, I turned towards the door walking out. As I stepped into the hallway, I realized I wasn’t just confused about my feelings. I was confused about everything.

When I got back to my dorm room, the door creaked as I pushed it open. Matt was awake, sitting up in bed with his phone in hand. His head turned toward me immediately, his brows furrowing as he noticed my puffy eyes and tear-streaked face.

“You’ve been crying,” he said bluntly, his voice softer than usual.

I hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the concern in his tone. “It’s nothing,” I said quickly, setting my bag down by the door. “I’m fine.”

Matt tilted his head, clearly not believing me, but he didn’t push. Instead, he shifted the conversation entirely. “Hey, I, uh…need help with statistics again,” he said, his voice casual but deliberate. “The last quiz was brutal, and I’m not trying to bomb this next one.”

I blinked at him, surprised by the sudden change in topic. For a moment, I thought about brushing him off, but something about his effort to distract me felt comforting.

“Sure,” I said after a beat, slipping my shoes off. “Let me grab my laptop.”

I sat on the couch while he grabbed his stuff sitting with me, his notebook and textbook already open. The tension in the room began to ease as we dove into the material, going over formulas and sample problems.

“Wait, wait,” Matt interrupted after I walked him through a particularly tricky problem. “How the fuck did you get that answer?”

I laughed lightly, “You didn’t follow what I just said?”

“Not even a little,” he admitted with a smirk, running a hand through his hair.

I shook my head, leaning over his notebook to point out the steps again. “Okay, look. You have to do this part first, or you’re going to mess up the whole equation.”

He watched me closely, nodding as I broke it down for him again. “You make this look so easy,” he muttered, scribbling notes in the margins.

“Maybe because it is easy,” I teased, my lips curving into a faint smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes but smiling back. “You’re a genius, and I’m just a dumbass. Got it.”

We worked through a few more problems, the atmosphere between us becoming lighter with each passing minute.

“Thanks for helping me,” Matt said after we finished the last problem.

“Anytime,” I replied, meeting his eyes briefly.

After finishing up the statistics work, Matt closed his notebook and leaned back on the couch,

“So, our YouTube channel is doing really well,” he said, almost casually.

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“We just hit 50,000 subscribers,” he said, so casually.

“Fifty thousand?” I repeated, impressed. “Why didn’t you tell me you guys were that big?”

Matt shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “I don’t know, it never came up.”

“That’s cool,” I said, genuinely intrigued. “What kind of videos do you guys make?”

“Mostly random stuff. challenges, Q&As, vlogs. Just us being us,” he explained.

“I want to see,” I said, leaning forward with excitement.

Matt grabbed his laptop from the coffee table and opened it up. After a few clicks, he pulled up their channel, which proudly displayed a banner with their name: Sturniolo Triplets. The thumbnails were vibrant and fun, featuring the three of them pulling goofy faces or posing mid-chaos.

“Here,” Matt said, clicking on a video titled ‘Matt bakes blindfolded!!’

As the video started, I couldn’t help but laugh. The energy between the three of them was infectious.

“You guys are hilarious,” I said, laughing.

“Thanks,” Matt said, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “It’s a lot of fun, honestly. We just mess around and somehow people like it.”

We watched a few more videos, each one funnier than the last. There was one where they attempted to chug challenge, which ended in chaos, and another where they tried not to laugh at each other’s ridiculous jokes.

By the time we finished, I was grinning ear to ear. “You guys are naturals,” I said. “I get why people love you. This is awesome, Matt.”

His face lit up at my reaction. “I’m glad you think so. Maybe one day we’ll hit a million subscribers, and we’ll all quit school to be full-time YouTubers.”

I laughed. “Well, when that happens, don’t forget about me.”

“I could never,” Matt said, his eyes meeting mine.

I stood up from the couch, stretching a little. “I’m starving,” I said,

He glanced up from his laptop, shrugging. “Wanna go get something?”

I blinked at him, slightly taken aback. “What’s going on with you?”

Matt leaned back, crossing his arms, his expression shifting in an instant. “What the fuck are you talking about”

“I mean,” I said carefully, “you’re not being a total asshole for once. Did I miss something?”

He scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t know why I even bothered trying to act normal with you.”

“Matt—”

“No, seriously,” he snapped, standing up abruptly. “Just…fuck off, alright? Go get food by yourself.”

I stared at him, my stomach twisting in frustration and confusion. “Wow. And here I thought maybe we were making fucking progress. Guess I was wrong.”

“Yeah, you were,” he muttered, sitting back down and turning his attention to his laptop like I wasn’t even there.

After storming out of the dorm, I sent a quick text to Charlie.

“You hungry? Let’s get out of here.”

She responded almost immediately. “Starving. Pick you up in ten?”

By the time she pulled up, I was already waiting outside. I hopped into the passenger seat, letting out a heavy sigh. “Denny’s?” she suggested.

“Breakfast for dinner? Absolutely,” I agreed.

At the diner, we ordered a ridiculous spread: pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, while Charlie went all out with a breakfast sampler. Between bites, she gave me her usual no-nonsense advice.

“You’re letting Matt take up too much space in your head,” she said, pointing her fork at me.

I rolled my eyes. “He’s impossible to figure out. One second he’s nice, the next he’s—”

“An asshole. Yeah, that sounds about right.”

We laughed, By the time we left Denny’s, It was time to get ready for the last night of halloweekend.

Back at Charlie’s dorm, we dove into Halloween prep. I pulled out my Raven costume: a deep purple cloak, a black body suit that stopped showing off my hipbones, and thigh-high boots. I added the signature red gems around my waist and painted my top lop black. Charlie, on the other hand, transformed into Belle, her golden dress flowing and stopping right at the bottom of her butt perfectly as she spun around dramatically.

“Okay, but why do you look hot as Belle?” I teased, adjusting the clasp of my waist.

“Because I am hot, thank you very much,” she retorted with a wink.

I laughed, but inside I was thrilled with how the costume turned out.

We grabbed our phones and started our trek to the hockey house, Red and orange lights bathed the room, casting eerie shadows that matched the Halloween theme. Charlie and I grabbed drinks and made our way through the crowd, going to sit on the couch I am all too familiar with.

Charlie nudged me. “We look fucking amazing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Fuck yeah we do.”

I was sitting with Charlie, both of us taking in the scene, when the door swung open, and in walked Matt and Chris.

Matt was dressed as Batman, complete with the black paint smeared around his eyes. His costume was spot-on, Chris followed closely behind, grinning in his Joker costume, his hair slicked back with green dye. They moved together, like they always did, a duo that didn’t need anyone else. They made their way straight to the kitchen, ignoring the crowd around them.

I didn’t want to be watching them. I didn’t want to care, but I couldn’t help it. Charlie noticed where my gaze was fixed and nudged me. “Don’t get worked up,” she warned quietly.

I ignored her and kept my eyes on them as they mingled for a while, talking and laughing. Then, to my dismay, they made their way back into the living room, a girl on each of their laps. I recognized the girl on Chris’ lap almost instantly—Katie. The same Katie he’d been fucking behind my back. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

I could feel the blood rush to my face, my hands clenched into fists by my sides. Charlie must’ve seen the change in my demeanor because she grabbed my wrist. “Y/N, don’t—”

But it was too late. My mouth was already moving before I could stop it. “So this is the whore you were sleeping with?” I scoffed loudly, the words leaving my lips before I could even think. “Not impressive.”

Charlie’s eyes went wide, and she quickly stepped in front of me, trying to calm me down. “Y/N, don’t,” she warned again, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

Chris and Matt both glanced up, their expressions surprised, but Katie’s face was full of anger as she glared at me. The tension in the room was palpable.

Matt’s expression hardened, and he turned to look at me. “What are you doing?” he snapped, his voice low.

Katie, still perched on Chris’ lap, shot me a smug look. “Maybe you should mind your business, bitch,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

The anger inside me was boiling over, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. My heart was pounding in my chest, my hands shaking with rage as I stood there, glaring at both of them.

“Mind my business?!” I spat, taking a step toward the couch where Matt and Chris sat, their smug expressions only making my blood pressure rise. “You’re the slut who was fucking my guy. Whats even worst is its not like we were a secret. You were perfectly fine being a side piece” I snapped, my voice rising. I turned to Chris “You knew exactly what you were doing, sneaking around with her behind my back. And you,” I turned to Matt, pointing at him, “you knew what was going on between us! Don’t act like you’re some innocent bystander in this whole mess. You sat behind the scene letting me get played”

The music almost drowned out by the tension. I could feel everyone watching, but I didn’t care anymore. I had to say what was on my mind.

Katie laughed condescendingly, clearly enjoying watching the drama unfold. “Oh, you’re so funny. It’s really fucking pathetic how bitter you are over this,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I snapped. My whole body was tense with fury as I turned to face her. “Pathetic?” I seethed, stepping closer to her. “You’re the one who’s pathetic. You’re just a placeholder for what he really wanted.” I looked back to Chris “Isn't that right?”

“You know what? I’m done with both of you,” I added, looking directly at Chris and Matt.

I spun on my heel, about to march out the door, but before I could make it, Katie stepped in front of me, smirking like she’d won some kind of battle. “Oh, look at you, acting big,” she sneered. “You’re just mad because Chris dumped you for someone who actually knows how to keep him entertained.” She looked me up and down

The words stung, but it was her tone that pushed me over the edge. I shoved her back with all my strength, but she came right back at me, shoving me hard.

Before I knew what was happening, my fist flew, and I connected with her mouth. She stumbled back, her hands flying to her lips in shock. The room was suddenly filled with chaos. People shouted in surprise, and Katie’s face twisted in fury as she lunged at me.

Charlie screamed, “Matt! Get her!” But it was too late—Katie and I were locked in a fight, tearing at each other, scratching, pulling at hair, and landing punches. The adrenaline coursed through me as my heart raced.

I could hear Charlie shouting, but nothing mattered. Not anymore.

Then, suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind, lifting me off the floor with ease. I kicked and struggled, but it was no use. I looked up to see Matt’s furious face, his arms strong as he threw me over his shoulder like a ragdoll.

“Matt, let me go!” I yelled, hitting his back with my fists, but he ignored me. He was livid.

“Stop it, Y/N,” he growled, his voice dark. He walked us out of the party and all the way back to our dorm, I tried arguing the entire time but it was no use.

Once we were inside Matt threw me off his shoulder onto the couch. “You think you can just do whatever you want, huh? Go back and forth between me and Chris like it’s all some game? You have no right to act like this.”

“You don’t get to tell me how to act,” I shot back, my voice full of defiance. “I don’t owe either of you anything. You’ve both fucked up!”

Matt paced in front of me, fuming. “You seriously think you can just walk in and out of my life whenever you want? You have no idea what it’s like, Y/N. You treat me like shit, then come back like nothing happened, and then act surprised when I get pissed. You’ve been a mess the whole time. Don’t act like you have some high ground here.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I was too stubborn to back down. “You were a mess too,” I hissed, my voice trembling with frustration. “You don’t get to play the victim here. You’ve made things so much worse between us.”

Matt’s anger flared up again, and he leaned in closer. “You can’t just do what you want and expect me to keep waiting for you. It doesn’t work like that.” He was standing over me now, his voice dropping low. “I’m done with the back and forth. If you want this with me, then fine. But if you’re not gonna take me seriously, then stay the hell away from me.”

My lip quivered, but I forced the words out. “You told me I was the mistake Matt, Im so fucking confused on what you want from me-”

He threw his head back putting his hands on his face “I wanted you this entire time, You immediately got with Chris. I get it I said you were a mistake. I didn't want to fix feelings with this but clearly there's not much I can do. So make a choice now. What do you want?” He stopped staring at me.

tag-

@ch0llies @namelesssav @christmastreecake

@chrisstopherfilmed @mattsturnii @sturnrc @larnieboox88

@tbfaptbfae @2muchofaslvt @sturnioloshottiekay

@rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @realuvrrr

#nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #roommates

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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 2 days ago

Text

chance of showers

pairing: leon x reader

cws: piss, p in v, pee in v, ddlg

a/n: yeah, it was bound to happen, wasn't it? the double sin of ddlg and piss

wc: 1.5k

These days, Leon bids you adieu in the threshold between your typical affection and your faux-innocence facade that comes with a side of fuck-me eyes. That’s when Daddy takes over.

When he comes home from work, he can sense the desperation threatening to boil over into teary-eyed, delirious begging so he gives you an offer you can’t refuse: he’ll be your chauffeur to the not-quite-luxurious sex-filled sanctuary of your shared bedroom. That is to say, he’ll carry you across the hall where he can fuck you stupid without all the back pain that a couch rendezvous would give him.

You greet him with a hug and a heart-eyed grin, immediately discarding all previous activities for his attention. You’ve been gorilla-glue stuck to the TV all day due to the once a week chance to watch all the High School Musical movies on cable — which Leon still pays for — one after the other. He can tell by your antsy legs, shifting from one foot to the other. It’s not nerves– daddy makes you relaxed. No, it’s a cute little pee-pee dance.

“Do you need to do something before we go have some fun together?”

“Uh-uh. I wanna have special time with daddy now.”

“Are you sure? If you need to go pee, daddy can wait for you.”

“I don’t need to go.”

Leon doesn’t need a polygraph test to know that’s a fucking lie.

But, you’re a big girl, or, at least, you’ve insisted that you are whenever Leon challenges that silly little ‘fact’ you’ve tried to manifest into reality.

The reality is: you need daddy’s help, particularly when you’re in this state.

Leon should take you by the hand and lead you to the bathroom, he should tell, not ask. But, it’s like letting your toddler touch the hot stove just once – they’ll learn their lesson and they’ll never do it again.

You’re an adult who has the reasoning skills to know that you should pee. Plus, it’s not like pissing yourself is anything more than an embarrassing moment and a bitch to clean up.

So, Leon doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he has you how he wants you. All fucked-out, your pussy stuffed so full you can see his dick in your abdomen and your brain completely empty of all thoughts (and your bladder so full he could make you burst if he pressed on your stomach with enough force).

As he often does, Leon makes you ride him because he thinks it’s cute to watch you struggle, and he inevitably takes over the job of gripping your hips and pulling them back down to meet his. Over and over again until you think you’re going to pass out.

Your eyes are screwed shut and your mouth is occupied with your constant moaning – until you have an ‘uh-oh’ moment. Leon can see it flash across your face.

“Daddy,” you manage through a shaky voice. “No more, no more.”

The thing is: No more isn’t your safe word. No more is usually what you say when everything feels so intense that you’re overwhelmed and need Leon’s reassurance. He rubs your back and showers you in praise while he continues to fuck you as the unwritten protocol says he should.

“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“No, no,” you protest, shaking your head vehemently. “Have to go pee, daddy.”

“Baby, we’ve been through this before, remember? The first time you squirted, you thought you were gonna pee, but you didn’t. You liked that feeling, right?”

It’s true. You were absolutely convinced you’d pee yourself the first time Leon made you squirt, but you both suspect this time is different.

“No, I’m really gonna pee this time.”

You’re clenching around him, he can feel it. Maybe you are going to squirt, he thinks.

Piss is hardly the worst thing Leon’s been covered in – he’s 40 years old, old enough to give up on giving a fuck about this kind of thing. And, God, he’ll take any chance to tease you.

“Didn’t Daddy ask you if you needed to go pee earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did you say?”

“No.”

“Was that a lie? Did you lie to Daddy?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, since you made your choice by yourself and didn’t want daddy’s help, you’re not gonna get it. You can hold it until I’m done with you.”

“No, I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.”

“Then, I guess you’ll just have to let it out.”

“No, no, no, no, no. I don’t want to. I wanna hold it.”

Go right ahead, he thinks, as he continues to fuck you, completely disregarding your desperation. He wants to see you break and at this point, you’re doing anything to hold back, on the verge of tears.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you start to cry as warm liquid trickles out of you, coating his cock little by little as pee continues to flow from you. You only leak a little in the grand scheme of things, but you’re humiliated, full-on crying to the point where it’s worrisome.

Finally, he slows his thrusts.

“Hey,” he rubs your back soothingly. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. I told you you could do it. I’m not mad at you.”

“It’s so embarrassing.”

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I bet it felt good to let go. Didn’t it?”

“A little bit… but I still have to go more.”

“Then, go, baby. Let it out.”

Because, one, it doesn’t matter at this point – he’ll have to change the sheets anyway. And, two, he finds the whole ordeal a bit more arousing than he suspected he would.

When you dare to make eye-contact, you’ve got doubt written all over you, like you think this is some sort of trap or a sacrifice of his comfort for yours.

“Go ahead. It’s gonna feel good.”

Nervous, but desperate, you have to let go.

Leon praises you as you finally allow yourself some relief, releasing short bursts and then a steady stream.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Let it all out.”

When the torrential downpour slows to a leaky faucet, his thumb finds its way to your clit and he resumes his thrusts, gaining momentum steadily.

Your next revelation is not an ‘uh-oh’, just an ‘oh’ in a series of incoherent moans.

“Daddy, daddy, I’m gonna-”

“I know you are.”

Neither of you can be sure if your next release is pee or squirt but what matters is that you came, squeezing Leon’s cock so perfectly that he’s barely hanging on by the time you’re coming down from your high.

Usually, he asks you where you want it, makes you beg for it inside, and he finally gives it to you, but now, his face is already buried in the crook of your shoulder as he’s given into the pleasure.

He fills you to the brim, ruins the bed a little more for the sake of a heavenly orgasm. It’s totally fucking worth it every time.

After a moment of silence, he pats you on the butt and says, “hop up, baby”.

“No,” you protest, wrapping your arms around him.

“Baby, I’ll come right back, but I gotta pee.”

He laughs a little at the irony. It feels cruel in a way to make you piss yourself while he gets a more dignified experience.

You’re ready to even out the score, quick to turn the tables.

“No,” you insist. “You can either hold it or wait until I’m done with you.”

Leon should’ve anticipated your smartass move.

“You really want me to piss inside you? ‘Cause that’s what’s gonna happen if you don’t let me get up.”

It’s a threat, it’s a promise, it’s a plea for you to let him go.

“It’s only fair,” you say.

“Fine,” he concedes, repositioning you so that you’re on your back. Yeah, he could get up, he could win now that he’s on top, but maybe there’s a part of him that wants to do this. To make you regret your attitude when you find out what it feels like for Leon to piss inside you, to prove something to you, to punish you – there are so many excuses, but the truth is: the idea excites him.

“You ready?” he asks – though the question is more directed at himself as stage fright begins to creep up inside him.

“You can do it, daddy,” you say, voice full of genuine encouragement rather than your previous taunting tone.

So, he does. The release is double the relief with your warmth surrounding him as he lets go. You look awfully curious, almost in awe of the fact that it’s happening, especially since you can’t exactly see it – at least, not yet. But Leon’s feeling the type of relaxation that less obstinate people get from meditation.

“All done,” he says, knowing that’s a fucking lie, but pulling out anyway, letting the last droplets hit you on the stomach.

“Daddy!” you say, amusement barely hidden behind your mild vexation.

“Sorry,” he says with a shrug and a smirk that says he’s anything but.

“I think it’s time for a trip to the bathroom. We really need to shower,” you say.

“Hey, I just gave you a little bit of a shower, baby. If you wanted more, you could’ve asked.”

But that kind of shower will have to wait until next time.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader

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luveline · 4 hours ago

Note

this request may be a bit of a long shot, but would you be willing to write a drabble for mouth of september? maybe she gives the boys a scare either by going out and then not coming home at the time she said she would or maybe she faints from not having eaten enough? totally okay if you don’t want to or if you want to use this as a prompt for something else, mos has just been one of your fic series that i think about pretty consistently even two-ish years later.

anyway have a great day and hope you’re doing well jadey <3 love u

I love you! me writing this actually did feel like a longshot but not cos I didn’t love it and not cos I don’t love u, I hope you enjoy it!! been so long since I wrote this !!🩵 fem! 4k words

cw suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation

It’s cold tonight.

You blow on your fingers, feeling them warm, stiffness lanced for precious few seconds. You didn’t mean to walk so far from the house, not while the wind is racing like this. The corner shop just seemed to move around while you weren’t looking. You should’ve asked Sirius to go with you, he has a better sense of direction, even if he would’ve complained the whole time about the shit weather.

Remus would’ve come and not complained, but he was sleeping at the time and waking him felt cruel. James would’ve come, racing around in Lily’s car, but then he would’ve followed you back into the house insisting on making you some supper or a cuppa or something, and what you’d wanted was to be alone. A bar of chocolate wouldn’t hurt either.

Stupid travelling corner shop, you think to yourself. Stupid me for fucking losing it. Should’ve just stayed home. Can’t even walk to the shop.

You take a deep breath. You give the streets a wretched, embarrassed glare and flop down onto the nearest bench. Fuck’s sake. Lost and freezing to death.

If Sirius were here, if he heard what you were thinking, he’d frown at you with that dark pinch to his eyes and tell you to Stop it, now.

He’s maybe half of the reason you’re out of the house tonight. Maybe all of it. It’s all complicated and horrible and everyone thinks it’s a bad idea but the thing is that Sirius himself isn’t complicated, he isn’t horrible. He’s kind to you in funny ways, and when you’re together Sirius makes you feel like you’re someone worth being kind too, which doesn’t happen often.

Your self annoyance fades to something more familiar soon enough. Everything goes quiet, leaving you there with your heart, quick and slow beating, can’t seem to choose, and your cold feet. Your socks feel too tight.

Your teeth start to chatter. You can’t sit here forever.

(But wouldn’t it be better? If you stayed? Caught cold?)

If you get poorly from the cold, you’ll feel miserable from the moment you wake up. You’ll be ill at work, which will make work worse. You’ll have to stay in your room so you don’t get one of the boys sick, and that really would ruin your week. Nothing means anything if you don’t get to see your best friends.

You gather yourself up and turn toward the street you’d just walked down, determined to retrace your steps.

In the distance, a familiar shape is jogging toward you.

“Y/N?” James shouts, sounding as though all the breath in the world has been sucked from his lungs. He doesn’t stop jogging until he gets a few feet from you, where he bends to catch his breath. “Fucking hell!” His head snaps up. “Fuck, shortcake, are you alright?”

You close the distance. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” He forces himself to stand, breathing hard as he grabs you by the wrist. “Are you okay? You scared me so badly.”

You grab his arm back. “I’m really fine, I’m fine, what’s wrong?”

“You’re what’s wrong, you aren’t home!” James swallows a lump. “You left a note, you’d be home by seven. It’s nearly ten. Remus rang me in a fit ‘cos he didn’t know where you’d gone, we thought��” James gives you an imploring look, though it’s so so sorry at the same time, you feel your stomach twist into a hard knot. “We thought you were having a bad night.”

“James.” Embarrassment makes you soft-toned. “I’m really sorry I scared you, but I got lost, that’s all.” You don’t really like to lie, only James seems to need to hear it. “I’m glad you found me. I was worried I wouldn’t get home.”

James gives a breathy laugh. “Oh, good.”

You’re pulled into a hug.

“Sorry,” you say.

“No, it’s okay.” He rubs your back with force. It feels more for him than you, though you don’t exactly mind it. You can pretend as much as you want that you don’t like it when the boys give you affection, but they know it’s not true, and they know it’s alright to give it to you most days. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine as long as you’re fine.”

“Fine,” you say.

He pulls away. “Oh, god. Alright, let’s go back to the house. It’s freezing, you’re not wearing a proper coat?”

“I didn’t plan on being out long.”

“No?”

He takes you by the shoulder to encourage you back the way you came. “Just wanted some chocolate,” you say.

“I’ll get you some.”

You both know it doesn’t add up. James doesn’t make you say much else, relieved you’re alright, and you fester in the guilt of worrying him so harshly.

“Where are your glasses?” you ask.

“I forgot them in the car.”

“Where is the car?”

“Remus thought you might’ve gone to the library, you were supposed to take that Sky-Fi back.”

“Sci-fi.”

“Right, the space books. He took it to see if you were walking home, I said I’d come this way, and Sirius…” James grimaces. “Not sure where he went. He was already out by the time I got to the house.”

“How are we gonna find him?”

“He’ll come back eventually.”

You stick close to James’ side, dodging crisped up leaves and following him down the dropped kerb and finally onto a familiar road. “Guess I’ve lived here so long, I should’ve known the way,” you say.

“It’s alright.”

You bite your cheek for a second. “I’m really sorry, James, I– I didn’t– is it really ten?”

“…Aren’t you cold?” he asks softly.

“I didn’t think about it.”

“I wish you would.” He pokes his tongue against his cheek. “I want to know if you’re having a bad night. It’s alright if you were. If you need more time, more help, it’s okay.”

“It’s not like that… not all of it. I was walking to the shops, I swear. Just feel so,” —your voice slips into a colour of shame you despise— “weird sometimes. I’m sorry I made you worry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.”

“Is this a common occurrence?”

“Not the walk, just. Just this. Making you worry. I didn’t mean to make everybody worry.”

“Well, I am worried. When you disappear for a couple more hours than you say you will, it’s scary.” James gives you a shrug. “I love you, I’m gonna wonder where you are.”

“But–”

“I worry about Sirius when he goes to the pub until who knows when, worry about Lils when she does too many hours at work. I worry about Remus every day, his eyes are worse than mine ‘cos all he does is read,” he says with a laugh. “It’s fine.”

“I worry about you too,” you say.

“About what?” he asks, stricken.

“Remus told me you can pop your knee out from your kneecap when you weight lift. I know you think it’s fun and stuff, but that’s scary.”

“I’m getting fit!” He rolls his eyes. “Lily likes my abs.”

“Well I liked you when you were soft.”

James cackles at your poor fake-flirting. “I’ve never been soft, take that back! You know being captain made me solid as a rock.”

“James?” a voice calls.

You look up at the same time. Sirius is sitting on the wall in front of the house smoking; he takes a harsh, quick drag and stabs it out so hard that ash sullies his fingers as he stands.

“Oh,” he says, blowing the smoke from his mouth quickly, his breath a ragged thing as he bounds across the road to hug you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get what he’s sorry for. “It’s okay.”

He smells so strongly of smoke it’s like he’s blowing it under your nose, but he’s not so sharp to the touch. You falter at being touched kindly, feeling tension in his back as you curl an arm around him.

Sirius digs his face into your neck.

“Hey?” you ask quietly.

He steps back suddenly, an accusing fist held between your two abdomens. “Where have you been?” he asks, and there’s the sharpness to match his smell, scowl turning his grey-blue eyes to pitch, lashes in a furious tangle. “You can’t do that. You can’t just disappear for hours.”

“I’m sorry–”

“It’s not okay.”

“She said she’s sorry,” James interjects, “maybe let’s leave it?”

“Being sorry doesn’t erase the last two hours of us panicking, though, does it?”

“She got lost–”

“James, it’s okay, it’s–” You shake your head. “Maybe you should go inside to warm up? You’re not wearing a coat either.”

“I was in a rush.” James gives Sirius a warning look. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. Five minutes and I’m coming back out.”

James trudges up the garden path to the house. You twist your hands together, staring into Sirius’ face, wanting to see every bit of his anger, keeping tabs on all of it so as not to be surprised. You should’ve known he’d run out of patience with you eventually. He’s had to deal with your awful moods more than anyone else.

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you realise how scary it is to worry you’ve hurt yourself?” Sirius asks starkly.

You flinch. “It doesn’t exactly feel great for me, either.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Still, he softens. You feel like you’ve cheated. “I don’t understand. You got lost? How far away from the house were you?”

“I don’t know, I was trying to go to Del’s.”

“You’re not being honest with me, or any of us. It’s not fair. My heart is like a fucking racehorse,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest, fingertips smudgy with ash, “’cos all I’ve thought tonight is that you’d gone off and jumped off of a bridge or something. I know you wouldn’t.” He lets his hand fall. He quietens. It is almost apologetic, how he slows. “I know you wouldn’t. I knew you’d come home. But please don’t make me think about it.”

He’s gone pale in the cold, his hair in twists and tucked haphazard behind his ears. In his thick bomber jacket and his jeans, he could’ve just hopped of the bike, windswept as he is, but it’s the mark of worried hands having pushed his hair back repetitively rather than the weather, though the longer you stand there in the wind, the more tangled it becomes. “I dont get why you’re so determined to be alone,” he says.

You don’t want to talk about it. When do you ever? More than ever, you’d like to stalk past him and slam your bedroom door, let him know you’re fine by yourself and seething, let him stay ignorant to you as you squirm in a bed you’ve come to hate. How often do you lay there wishing you could be alone forever? It’s not fair to anyone. It doesn’t make sense. They all love you and you feel sorry for them, ‘cos you tricked them, ‘cos you’re nothing worth thinking about for long.

Sirius won’t stop frowning at you. It makes the drowning feeling worse.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, hoping this time it’ll stick. “I don’t know what happened, I just wasn’t thinking. I don’t feel very well.”

“I know.” He scoffs to himself. You relax at the hint of self-deprecation. “It’s not your fault. I’m fucking furious with you but I know you can’t help it.”

“Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. For saying you’d jumped off a bridge, that’s horrible, but you really fucking worry me sometimes and I’m so relieved that you’re okay that it’s making me horrible.”

“You’re not horrible.”

“I’m mean.”

“You’re not.”

“No, I am. You’re the only person who doesn’t see it. Or at least doesn’t say it.” Sirius rubs his face, scraping a stray hair from his nose. “Sorry for shouting. Here,” —he holds out his arm— “let’s have a proper one.”

He hugs you nicely, no force to it, less lingering smoke. The scratch of his cheek catches yours, his hand at the bottom of your back, your jacket and shirt rising with every sweep of his touch. You press your closed eye to his hair.

“Why didn’t you come and sit with me or– we could’ve talked. Could’ve just led in bed, doesn’t matter, I would’ve gone to the shop with you.” He squeezes you, pressing his nose to your shoulder. “I can be morbid. We can be two miserable layabouts together.”

“I didn’t…” You cringe. “Sirius, it’s not on purpose, I swear. I didn’t do it to make you worry.”

“I know that, Jesus.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re home.”

You pull apart as a car turns onto the street. That’ll be Remus. Another for your troupe of worry.

“What do you think, is he mad at me too?” you ask.

“Remus?” Sirius gives you another half hug. “‘Course not.”

And true to form, Remus climbs out of the car with a fond smile. “Hey, where have you been?” His hair ruffles in the wind, scars turned palest purple in the cold. “You need to learn how to tell time.”

You let him hug you. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright, let’s go inside though. Have some tea. Did you eat much today?”

You ignore the question. “Tea,” you say.

“Yeah.”

Remus ushers you down the path to the house, Sirius on your other side like bodyguards.

“Thanks for, uh, looking for me.”

Remus takes you by the forearm. “We’ll always look for you. But next time, wake me up first.”

You nod gratefully. “Uh, okay. Thank you.”

“Stop saying thanks. It’s alright, Y/N. It’s fine.”

That’s what you’ve all said, but it doesn’t make it true.

—

James goes home, though he doesn’t want to. “I can stay,” he says over the rim of his mug, half-pleading, wanting you to ask him to. “We can have a sleepover.”

You insist that you’re really fine, he has work tomorrow, it’s late. When he doesn’t move, you say, “I feel bad enough that you were out looking for me in the cold.”

Your voice is pathetic and scratchy and he can tell you’re going to cry, they all can, so he doesn’t push it anymore than that. He goes home, and you go to bed, and Remus follows you up a little bit later with a glass of juice and some thick, buttered slices of teacake.

“You okay?” he asks, climbing into bed next to you where you’re laying down.

“Fine.”

“Didn’t eat much today?”

“No.”

“Have the juice, at least.”

You take the glass.

Between your sorry sips, Remus picks at one of the slices of cake, steals looks at you, though he doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing.

“Sorry about today. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You can stop saying sorry.” Remus lets his head tip from one side to another. “I can hear it in your voice that you don’t want to say it. Not that I don’t believe that you’re really, actually sorry. But you keep repeating it because you’re worried I want you to do that, and I don’t.”

“It’s what I should say.”

“Well, you’ve said it.” Remus turns to you, all bookish and rakish at once, lovely but tired, and he must be giving you a similar appraisal. “I wanted to be your friend the second I first talked to you. It wasn’t guilt.” He shakes his head. Wasn’t ’cos they’d played that prank on you with the shoe-eating goo, spied on you crying in a school hallway, overwhelmed. “I just liked you, and that was without any sort of knowledge of what you’re like. Now that I know you, I couldn’t be rid of you. Truly. I love you, you know that?” He smiles gently. “Even when you need time and you disappear. Please… don’t really go anywhere though, will you?”

“I won’t.” You decided a long time ago that ending your life wasn’t in the cards. There are terrifying moments, numb ones, blink-and-it’s over ones, where you feel like it’s the only option you have. But it ends eventually, or it sinks into a background to be forgotten until the next time it aches.

“Are you eating properly?” he asks.

“Remus–” You shake your head as he brings a hand to your forehead, like he might stroke your hair. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You don’t like answering, that’s all.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I’ve made you talk much more than you would’ve liked to, tonight.”

“I like talking to you. To all of you.” You rest your head on his thigh. “You really are my favourite people in the world, Remus. I wouldn’t… wouldn't give you up.”

“Good,” he says, stroking your forehead just a few times. “‘Cos we can’t be without you.”

Sirius finds you collapsing in on one another a little later and rounds the bed to lay on your other side. He doesn’t bother sitting as Remus did, pulling the blankets up and slipping in beside you without worrying about what parts of you are touching parts of him, nor the slip of your back where your shirt’s riding up, nor how warm it is under the quilt. He grabs the end of your t-shirt and pulls it flat over your stomach, before his hand spreads out there, and you realise half-heartedly that he’s hugging you from behind. The room is barely seeable. Remus is nearly sleeping. Your tea cake went uneaten, left stodgy and dark on the nightstand.

“This okay?” Sirius asks.

“Yeah.”

He burrows nearer, rubbing his nose against the back of your neck, then taking a long breath of you.

“Are you mad?” you ask.

“Not anymore.”

You can’t believe that any of them could love you so much as to look for you. That James would want to stay the night, and that he’d let you turn him away. If you had any energy left in you tonight you would’ve done the same to Remus, and then Sirius. James won’t be happy when he finds out they’d slept in the bed with you and left him out, but he’ll forgive it eventually. None of them should care so much about you, what’s special about you? What’s even really good? What’s worth it?

Sirius breathes behind you. He doesn’t seem scared to touch you, not worried to lay as close to you as your bodies will allow. His heat sinks into you.

“Know any poems?” he asks, letting you shift into his back as he pushes an arm beneath you, curling, really holding you to him, a spoon of a hug.

“What kind did you want to hear?”

Sirius doesn’t answer. You hold still as his hand begins looping over your stomach.

“I can’t remember anything right.”

“Can you guess at one for me?” he asks.

You stare at Remus’ falling chest. You’re lucky to have good friends.

“I read one a few days ago, a couple of times, it was only a few lines.” You wait. Sirius doesn’t say anything, so you start to relay the poem slowly, stringing the words together as they come. “The world was a… nautilus shell... And the world was a grain of sand.” Your voice is odd, but the lines come to you regardless. “The world was a honeycomb… And the world was a strip of tender bark.”

Sirius lets his lips warm your neck, asking softly, more touch than sound, “That was the whole poem?”

You take his hand where it’s against you. “That’s it.”

He nods.

The world was a nautilus shell. And the world was a grain of sand. The world was a honeycomb. And the world was a strip of tender bark. You run through the poem again, three times, tripping over strip and tender and bark as Sirius’ breath warms your nape.

“Please don’t do that again,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to–” You force yourself to stay still. “I would never do something like that to scare you.”

“Nobody in this room or out of it believes that you went on your walk tonight to scare them.” His nose tips down your neck. His hand spreads wider over your stomach. It feels so weird, so warm and rigid. It’s the best touch you’ve ever been given, and it doesn’t matter because you’re so ashamed of yourself —you went on your stupid little walk with at least some bad intent, and your friends noticed because they love you when they shouldn’t bother. This is a stain now, something you’ll remember. “But I can’t take it. Do you get that? I can’t take it. James found you two hours ago and I still feel like I don’t know where you are.”

“Didn’t mean to.”

“I know, love.” He actually does kiss your neck then, quiet smack of a real kiss. “I know. I know.” His forehead presses to your shoulder as he settles in. “You’re okay. I’m not mad.”

“Me neither,” Remus croaks.

You let yourself relax enough to feel tired. Warmth from either side of you threatens to bowl you over.

“How are you feeling now?” Sirius asks.

“Fine.” Always fine. They deserve better honesty. “I didn’t want to hurt myself. Jus’… I needed to move, like, go, and I hate this part. I don’t think it should matter that I’m not– that I don’t feel well.”

“Don’t get upset,” Sirius says quietly.

“I’m not.” You sound tight. “When I want to be somewhere, it doesn’t make sense that it matters. In the moment, I don’t remember that you…”

“Love you?” Sirius asks.

“I know why you were worried, I promise. I don’t live in a bubble. I know I’m selfish.”

“Not selfish.”

“It was, though.”

“You’re thinking about it like we have a problem with what you did, and it’s my fault because I got so mad, but it’s not really that you did it.” His hand curls shy of your breastbone. “I was mad, but– darling,” —you squeeze your eyes shut— “you’re not on trial. You don’t have to prove your way out of this, all we need to know is if you’re alright now.”

“Not really.”

Remus gives a half-sleeping mumble.

Sirius sits up in bed to look at both of you. “We love you. We,” —he gestures between you and Remus emphatically— “aren’t going to stop. No matter how many walks you go on, how many scares you give me.” He frowns at you sympathetically. “We’re not getting any further, are we?”

“Sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” He grimaces, dark around the eyes. “I’m a right prick and I’ve made a right mess of everything.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, chancing a touch, terrified you’ll be reprimanded for it but knowing, as you know he loves you, that you’re allowed. The tips of your fingers touch his collarbone. Sharp thing.

He pulls a jib, lips all up and thinned like a smirk gone wrong. “Love you.”

You must’ve petrified him. He’s never so open with his feelings, even when it’s half-joking like this.

“I love you, too.”

He makes another face. Good enough, it says.

“Make me hot chocolate?” you whisper.

“Mm, come on.” He pulls you from the bed by your wrists. “Don’t complain when it’s gritty. I’m not skilled as Remus.”

“Quite right,” Remus mumbles.

You hug him quickly before you leave.

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