#i love when people just admit they like someone

[himbodruid]

Crying Wolf

My take on the 105 affinity Secret Times audio 😏

Intended for 18+ readers ONLY. MINORS DNI

Sylus x Reader/You

Breeding kink (probably)-:- marking -:- possessive sex -:- soft sex -:- consent is hot -:- aftercare

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The soft plinking sounds of the silly game you were playing echoed in the otherwise vacant room. You’d awoken from disturbing dreams in your own bed at the base, and snuck into Sylus’s room. And now you were curled up on his bed and clutching one of his pillows to your chest. He wasn’t home yet and it was a day off for you, but you figured he wouldn’t mind you borrowing his space.

“What are you playing?”

His voice suddenly appearing right next to your ear startled you and made you jump. Your hand struck out on instinct, which he caught with a chuckle before it could connect with his face.

“Shit, Sylus, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Are you trying to scare me?” You settled back down, trying to calm your adrenaline.

“Am I trying to scare you? You’re overthinking it, love.” He chuckled again at your pout.

“Still rude to sneak up on people like that.”

“Meanwhile, Miss Hunter didn’t even notice me when I was this close.” He leaned in, sending your pulse racing again for a different reason. “Your lack of vigilance is worryin-“

With a scowl, you slapped your hand over his mouth to prevent him from finishing that sentence. He was right, but you wouldn’t willingly admit it. Could he hardly blame you for feeling safe in his space?

You felt him smile under your hand for a brief moment, before he pulled it away from his mouth and flashed you that devilish half smirk of his. “You’re that eager to shut me up? Oh, you’re gonna need more than just your hands, Kitten.”

The tension that had built in those few seconds was interrupted by the sound of your game ending. Your phone was still in your other hand, but it had been all but forgotten when you got lost in Sylus’s predatory gaze.

“Oops, guess you lost,” he rumbled without breaking eye contact with you. Amusement twinkled in his eye. “Sorry for interrupting your game.”

You cleared your throat and looked away from him. You hated how easily he could get under your skin, with just a simple look from those cat-like crimson eyes of his. You made to return to your game and start again.

“But I remember an hour ago, someone promised to go to bed early starting today.”

“Oh, so you did see my text,” you muttered under your breath. He pretended not to hear you though.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” The smile in his voice made you want to reach out and punch him. Instead, you reined in the impulse and restarted the game.

“I haven’t forgotten. This is a sleep aid game,” you said with a huff, pointedly ignoring his presence now.

“You…play a game to help you fall asleep. This is the first time I’ve heard of it.” He made a noise of suspicion and leaned in again. “Looks like someone’s trying to pull the wool over my eyes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and scooted over on his bed. He rose from the chair he’d been occupying and sat next to you at your beckoning, and raised a brow when you handed him your phone with a freshly started game.

“Why are you giving it to me? I’m not into these little games.” He said gruffly.

“Just try it,” you say. “I’m trying to prove my innocence here.”

With a chuckle, he accepted your phone. “Alright, we can do that. Scoot over.”

You shifted over some more, placing the pillow you’d been cuddling back against the headboard. He stretched out languidly beside you, resting against the pillow you’d just placed, and held out an arm to you.

“Come here, rest your head on my arm,” he commanded softly. You smiled and laid beside him, where his arm wrapped around your shoulder, and immediately his hand began tracing soft patterns against your arm.

“Now then. Shall we get started?” You explained basic concepts of the game to him and showed him what to do, trying not to zero in your focus on his deft fingers lazily brushing your skin. After three sheep appeared on screen, Sylus paused.

“So the whole point of this game is to count sheep?”

“I mean, I tried to tell you it was a sleep aid game, but you didn’t believe me,” you laughed. He smirked back.

“Well, it is boring enough to make anyone fall asleep.”

With a playful punch to his chest, you took up your phone again and continued playing. You were trying hard not to focus on all the points where your bodies touched, trying to cool the heat that was slowly settling into you as he continued to trail his hand on you. You were trying not to lose yourself in the smoky spice scent of him. You were pretty sure he could feel your racing heartbeat, maybe even hear it, so you threw your focus into the game and tried hard to ignore how much you wanted to straddle him at that moment.

“Hmm…how many have we counted?” His voice was rough, like he was distracted. It took all of your effort not to squirm against him.

“You’d know if you’d stay focused,” you replied, thankful that your voice was steady. You were entirely too conscious of the fact that his shirt was stretched taut across his chest, and the sleep pants were slung low enough on his hips you could almost see his v-line.

“It’s not that I’m unfocused. Your hair is tickling my neck,” he rumbled. You scowled at him again.

“Seriously?” Was all you could think to say. He chuckled.

“Yes, it tickles. Only a little, though. Do you need me to help you tame this unruly hair of yours?”

Before you could give him an answer, his hand reached up and brushed strands of hair away from your face. His palm lingered on your cheek for the briefest of moments before moving down your neck. The action in no way removed your hair from his vicinity, but his focus was solely on you in that moment. Your breath hitched as his palm traveled further and then flattened against your collar bone. His eyes followed the contour of your neck before resting on the dainty necklace that rested in the hollow of your throat. You could see hunger ignite in his eyes when he saw it.

“Hmmh. Isn’t this the collarbone necklace I gave you?” He murmured while fingering the pendant. “My taste is pretty good, I guess.”

“Yes,” you say almost dumbly. “I love it.”

“It is very pretty,” he murmured, leaning over you. You couldn’t tell if he meant the necklace or your neck as he buried his face there. You thought you could feel his lips ghosting over your skin and the soft gasp that escaped you was nearly involuntary.

“S-Sylus, what are you doing?” You questioned, hating how breathless your voice was. He took a moment before replying, not bothering to pull himself away from you.

“Nothing. I just thought,” he said, punctuating with a soft kiss to your collarbone, “this spot was very enticing.”

His mouth descended onto your collarbone once more, a full open-mouth kiss that you couldn’t hold back your gasp at. Teeth scraped against your skin and then he latched onto you in such a way that you knew would leave a mark. It hurt at first, the aggressive pull of his mouth, but then there was a zing of rapture that flowed through you when he released you. His breath tickled across your now-damp skin and you shivered.

“It tastes just as I imagined it to be,” he murmured. “I wonder what this will taste like.”

Sylus moved to the opposite side of your collarbone now, his hand cradling your head while he gave the same treatment to that side. You tried your hardest to calm your thundering heart, to quell the heat that raced through you, to soothe the blush that spread mercilessly from your face to your now nearly exposed chest. You felt embarrassed at how quickly and easily he was able to turn you on. The sounds of the game came back to you and you desperately tried to return your attention to it. This didn’t escape Sylus’s notice.

“What? How many sheep are there now?” He nuzzled into your neck. “You’re still concerned about them? Looks like I haven’t gotten your undivided attention yet.”

“S-Sy,” you started, unable to find words when your breath came short.

“I don’t like you being so far away from me,” he growled before rolling his bulk atop you. You dropped your phone onto the mattress, the game forgotten now. “Come closer, let’s cuddle.”

You knew your face was aflame as he leaned down to nuzzle and kiss your neck. In a desperate bid to escape embarrassment, you mutter the lamest excuse you could. “B-but Sylus, it’s too warm.”

“To be honest,” a kiss on your neck, full of tongue, interrupted his thought, “it…can get even warmer. Than. This.”

His mouth found yours then, and he coaxed you open to him so that his tongue could plunge in and tangle with yours. You inhaled sharply, unable to keep your hands from him any longer. You kissed him back in equal fervor, not entirely ignorant to the hard length of him resting against your belly. Your hands combed through his silk-soft hair, all but holding him to you.

A sudden plink from your discarded phone brought you back to your senses. You were kissing Sylus. The two of you had been intimate in other ways, but nothing nearly as far as this yet. Holding hands, quick pecks on the cheek, chaste kisses here and there. But nothing so all-consuming, so passionate.

“Hmm? Oh. We lost,” rumbled Sylus against your lips. You turned your head and looked at your phone.

“Hmm. Looks like a wolf snuck in because you weren’t focused on our sheep,” you admonished lightly.

“Yeah. All of them were eaten,” Sylus replied with a smug smirk. He returned to burying his face against your neck. “How do you think those sheep were eaten? Like…this?”

He raked his teeth against the slope of your neck. You didn’t even have the mind to feel embarrassed about the moan that slipped from you.

“Or…like this?” His lips moved to the other side. A heavy, charged sigh escaped from him as he all but worshipped your neck. Kisses, bites, even rolling his tongue against your pulse. You were unravelling beneath him, and then his hand had the audacity to add to the sensations by running down the length of you. Your breaths came in short gasps and you longed to completely wrap yourself around him.

“I take back what I said about the game. It does have some redeeming qualities.”

The comment was so sudden, you couldn’t muster a response. All you could do was watch him with eyes half-lidded by desire while he elaborated.

“For instance, it is very realistic.” He gave another one of those heated sighs, followed by a soft growl while his hand continued to roam your body. You were fully aware now of his cock resting heavy against you, still held by the prison of his sleep pants. Somewhere he had wedged a knee between your own and was slowly sliding his way fully between your thighs. You could feel the heat blazing in your face and looked away from his assessing and possessive gaze.

It just happened that your attention fell back to your phone.

“Where are your eyes going? Honestly, I don’t think you need to get your phone back.”

You looked back to him, and he hiked your leg up to hook around his hip. The length of him was now pressed against your core, hot and hard.

“If you need a sleep aid, then I can fulfill that role.”

You felt like your brain was going to short circuit. Out of a desperate attempt to hide your madly blushing face, you covered it with the comforter.

“A sheep can’t escape if it’s trapped under the covers,” he said, tugging them away. “So, is this little lamb prepared?”

Another moan escaped you unbidden as he pressed his hips into yours.

“A wolf is coming,” he growled into your ear.

Fuck, I sure hope he will, you thought.

His mouth found yours again, and his roaming hand slipped underneath the cotton tank top you were wearing. Like electricity on your skin, his touch sent shivers through you. His thumb found your breast first, and then the rest of his hand engulfed the mound of flesh. You couldn’t help but arch into his touch, releasing pleased gasps into his fierce kiss.

Next thing you knew, your shirt was pushed up above your breasts and his hot mouth moved to teasing them. His tongue swirled around the nipple of one, while his hand continued kneading the other.

“S-Sylus,” you moaned with a shuddering breath. His teeth scraped against the underside and your hands dug into his scalp at the sensation. Your back bowed, arching firmly into his touch until his mouth moved further down. A blazing trail of kisses and bites all the way down your torso until he came to the hem of your shorts. All the while he kept his crimson gaze locked on your face, thoroughly enjoying the reactions he elicited from you.

He tugged at the hem, offering a silent question to you and going no further until you nodded your consent and lifted your hips for him. He stripped shorts and underwear away in one swift motion, and suddenly you were bared so intimately, so lewdly for him. You tried to pin your knees together, but he was already there, mouth at your hip and drawing out a mark to match the ones on your collarbone.

“I think,” he said, detaching from your skin, “I might enjoy seeing my marks on you a little too much.”

Your gaze landed on the bruise-like mark he left on your hip and you had to agree with him. Something about seeing his smirking mouth hovering there and a hickey darkening was just absurdly hot.

You let your head fall back into the pillow, covering your face with an arm. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Sylus.”

“Is that so?” He chuckled. “If you permit me, I can easily give you a little death, as a treat.”

Somehow your face flamed hotter at his innuendo. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, as you felt his thumb brushing through the soft fringe at your core.

“Mmh,” he growled. “So wet for me already, Kitten.”

And then his tongue followed the touch, and you were lost. A moan escaped from you, your hands flying to tangle once again in his hair. If he hated that you were messing up said hair, he didn’t say a word. In fact, the action seemed to provoke him further and he soon added fingers curling into your cunt. He worked you hard until you spilled over the edge with his name falling from your lips like a chant.

He crawled back up your body, planting a soft kiss before pulling away. He caressed your cheek while he gave you the tenderest of looks. It appeared he wanted to say something, but held himself back. Instead, he opted to lean forward and kiss your forehead.

And then the infuriating man tugged the comforter over you and made to leave.

“Wait, what?” You panicked and grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving.

“It’s late, Kitten, and you need to sleep.”

“No! I-“ your words were cut off by his chuckle.

“As much as I want to, Kitten, I hadn’t really prepared for sex. I don’t have any protection.”

You eased your shoulders, secretly relieved that he wasn’t rejecting you per se.

“That’s simple, though,” you say, swinging your arm wide and showing him the tiniest of protrusions on the inner side of your arm. “The Association pays for all of us to get temporarily sterilized. Those of us that want it, anyway. It lasts for five years, and I got it put in a few months ago because-“

You cut your words off, completely aware that you were rambling and embarrassing yourself further. You looked away, hating how desperate you sounded. But it was true, after being with Sylus and getting to know him, you wanted to prepare for a ‘just in case’ kinda situation just like this one. When he didn’t move or respond, you began shuffling yourself back under the duvet in awkward self-consciousness.

His hand shot out to stop you, though. “I truly don’t deserve you.”

With that, you were stripped bare before him once again. The duvet was discarded, and his crimson gaze followed every curve and edge of your body. It was like he was trying to memorize the picture of you naked in his bed.

“So damn beautiful,” he growled before falling upon you once again. His kisses were needy and hungry, working to quickly reignite your every sense. Your hands worked to slide his own shirt from his body, discarding it alongside your own clothing. The valleys of his abs called to you and you were unable to resist touching. Your fingers traveled the dips and rise of his torso, earning you panting groans from him. Testing, you allowed one hand to go even further downward. When he didn’t stop you at the hem of his pants, boldness overtook you and you grasped at the prominent bulge over the fabric.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips jerking forward of their own volition. He let his head fall against your chest with rough kisses while you pressed and kneaded the length of him in wonder. He was very clearly a large man as he all but dwarfed your petite frame underneath him, but down there he was also exceptionally large.

“How in the world is this supposed to fit,” you wondered aloud while still stroking him. He chuckled darkly in your ear, rolling his hips into your touch.

“Why don’t we find out, Kitten.”

His mouth engulfed yours again while he worked to strip the pants from his body. His tongue swept into your mouth, undulating in a way that suggested he was about to do that to you with his cock. Finally his hips nestled between your thighs, and you could feel how big he was resting against your body. You opened as wide as you could for him while his hips continued rolling forward and back. While not penetrating, his cock still dragged deliciously against your folds, urging your heart to pick up pace in anticipation.

And then, gods, the moment he pierced you, you wanted to cum. His movement was infuriatingly slow as he allowed you time to become accustomed to his girth first, and then his length last. You let your head fall back into his pillows, his name tumbling from you as you clung to him desperately.

And then he stilled, though you could tell by his shaking that it took all of his effort to hold back.

“Fuck, you feel so good on me, Kitten,” he whined. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, ensuring that he couldn’t suddenly change his mind and pull away from you in that moment.

A slight tilt of your hips and a clenching of your walls, and he nearly collapsed atop you at the forceful pleasure that rocketed up his spine. His moan was deep, guttural, and damn near feral. It only goaded you into shifting your hips again to rattle him further. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and fuck the feel of him slamming so impossibly deep into you was almost enough to throw you over the edge.

“Sylus, please,” you whimpered to him. His gaze found yours and locked on as he so slowly pulled himself out, right to the tip. And then his hips rocketed forward and the force of him slamming into you all but ripped his name from you as a scream.

From there, the frenzied coupling reached a crescendo so quickly that neither of you were prepared for the full force of pleasure that toppled you over the edge. His cock was buried in you and responded in kind when your walls fluttered and milked him. You took every last bit he had to offer, and still he wasn’t done with you.

He shifted your legs so that the backs of your knees rested in his elbows, and he all but folded you in half while he pistoned into you. All you could do was cling to him, crying out in the pleasure he ripped so vehemently from you. The new position let him fuck into you even deeper somehow, and gods the way his cock dragged against your inner walls.

And the sounds he made only added fuel to the fire. Grunting moans, harsh whispers of praise, guttural growls. All of them possessed you, making you respond to him in kind between other cries of pleasure. His name became like a prayer with the frequency it tumbled from your lips, and gods when he growled out your name you were gone.

Climax swept through both of you again swiftly, more hot ropes of cum flooding you only to be used as lubricant while he continued to pound into you.

Three times he brought you over the edge and he jumped alongside you. Three times before he finally released your cramping legs and let them rest back around his hips. More marks dotted your body, and you added your own collection to his neck and chest.

Three times your body milked his, and yet he was still so impossibly hard inside you. You would be surprised if you weren’t leaking his cum for days after this.

“Fuck, Kitten, you feel so damn good. I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop fucking you,” he growled.

The pace of his thrusts slowed in reverent worship of your body. You could feel him more fully than the rapid driving of the last three rounds. You could feel how the scooped edge of the head caught and dragged along your walls, tugging and pushing electric shocks of pleasure that coursed through you. And gods the hard push of his hips when he buried fully to the hilt, the feel of his sac compressing against the slick of your combined cum. The sticky feel of it all when he pulls away with the obscene sounds echoing in the room with your twinned heavy breathing. The slow ascent of your pleasure was near infuriating, but you knew that the fall would be much sweeter, more intense.

“This is how I originally wanted to take you,” he murmured into your skin as he kissed the two marks on opposite ends of your collarbone. “But you feel too damn good, I couldn’t control myself.”

You could only respond with a moan as his cock continued to brush against that sweet spot inside you. Your legs slid up his body to bracket his torso, the slight shift just enough to give him even further access.

“Sylus, you feel so fucking good,” you whimpered to him, your nails digging into his back.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he said, nuzzling his face into your neck. He was doing that a lot, almost as if he was trying to absorb the scent of you.

“Yes,” you hissed. “Take me.”

“Come with me, Kitten.”

At his words and a final hard thrust of his hips, you shattered beneath him. Your body arched off the bed, limbs jerking with your head thrown back into the pillows. His name echoed into the room from your pleasured screams. This climax was the most intense one you’ve ever had, threatening your consciousness with black spots dancing at the edge of your vision. It was like Sylus had lit your entire body on fire with electricity. It crackled through you, your body’s convulsing no longer yours to control as you just tried to continue to cling to him.

You could feel his own orgasm steamroll through him as well. His hips jerked erratically as his cock twitched and pulsed inside you. His moans in your ear were punctuated by panting breaths and guttural growls. His sac grew taut and then he was spilling into you once more. He experienced full body trembling, quivering, spasming, and his desperate moans filled the room with yours.

His cock finally seemed to be through and he slipped from you. He left the bed without a word, coming back seconds later from the bathroom with a warm rag to help clean you up and a cool glass of water that you chugged. You were embarrassed but grateful at his care- though it was almost for naught as the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other in the shower. It seemed like there would be a never ending stream of cum flowing from your cunt with how many times he couldn’t resist burying himself in you.

After several more rounds in various positions, you were finally tucked against him and nodding off to the sleep you should have had at least six hours ago.

__

When you finally did wake, Sylus had stepped out with instructions to the twins to bring you breakfast and whatever else you wanted. Unfortunately for you, Sylus didn’t think about any kind of implications when he directed them to his room instead of your own. To make matters worse, you were bundled in his blankets, looking like you were still exhausted from a night of little to no sleep due to Sylus’s bullshit stamina.

The twins, though, were so obnoxiously delighted by the news that you “finally slept with the boss” that they kept trying to high five you whilst you were trying to fight them away out of embarrassment.

You got no peace that night or day, but it didn’t stop the contented grin that planted itself on your face.

[mysticmutants]

not a lot, just forever

summary: weddings were never logans thing. the sappy vows, hundreds of people watching two people profess their love for each other— so why was being at jean and scott’s wedding with you affecting him so much?

pairing: logan howlett x reader

word count: 1k

warnings: romcom themes, weddings, possibly ooc!logan

authors note: sooo this is my first fic! I have some plans for a much longer, chaptered fic but figured I should ease myself into this! please go easy on me! any tips or suggestions are welcomed. thank you if you read my loves ౨ৎ

logan had been here so long he began to question where he went wrong in his life to put him here. what primordial being he had wronged to place him where he was— sitting next to you, adjusting uncomfortably in a cheap folding chair. not only were his senses being ambushed, overwhelmed—the guests cheap perfumes, the soft classical music playing in the background, mixing with the chatter of excited guests— but being here with you, was triggering something inside of him. he wasn’t someone that enjoyed weddings. anyone who looked at him even for a fraction of a second could deduce that about him. too gruff, hardened, to enjoy such a sappy environment.

it was anxiety inducing, to say the least. he shifts in his seat, trying not to fidget too much as his eyes flick from you—sitting next to him, raving about how beautiful the venue was, how excited you were for your teammates— to his surroundings.

“not a wedding person, logan?”

you speak softly, eyes raking over his appearance as you note the way his brows pinch together a little more than usual—a telltale sign of what was going on in his mind. he shakes his head in response. “they should’ve just eloped. less hassle.” he mutters gruffly, earning a laugh from you. he feels you lean in, elbowing him gently. “be nice. it’s their big day, you know? a celebration of their love.” you exclaim, a warm grin adorning your plush lips. the sight nearly makes his heart leap out of his chest—yearning for its rightful owner, you. he huffs in response, arms crossed over his broad chest. he wants to stop talking about this, to think about anything other than this god forsaken wedding. at least when he got through the ceremony, there would be alcohol at the reception. you lean in once more, and he can smell your perfume. his breath hitches and he eyes you, hoping you didn’t catch it. “so, I’ll take it you don’t see yourself settling down, cowboy?” you inquire.

not unless it’s with you.

he doesn’t miss the way your eyes drift to his lips, and back up to his eyes, but he does brush it off as him seeing things; chalking it up to his old mind deteriorating. he scoffs, brow raising as he scans the room once more in a feeble attempt to avoid eye contact with you. “settle down? no. people like us rarely get to settle down, darlin’. you know that. wouldn’t want anyone to get tangled in my mess.” he remarks—his way of saying ‘I’m terrified to get close to anyone, for fear of them winding up kidnapped by enemies or worse; waking up with my claws in their stomach—your expression darkens at his words, lips pursed and nostrils flared.

you nod, a sheepish grin curving at your lips. “right, yeah. of course.” you chuckle. “people like us don’t get the chance at a life like that very often. all the more reason to be happy for these two.” you nod, gesturing to scott standing at the altar. “you’ll get it, too.” he grumbles, pulling at the tie on his neck. “any man would be lucky to have you. just a matter of finding the right person.” your eyes linger on him at the mention, before tearing away to gaze up at the altar again.

“well,” you start, sighing, “I don’t think that my person thinks that I’m their person. so I’m sort of at a standstill.” you admit, breathlessly. now you’ve got his attention.

he leans forward, palms on the top of his thighs. “oh? and who might this person be, doll? have you tried telling him how you feel?” he questions, trying—and failing—to come off as subtle. you grin, a small chuckle falling from your lips. “no, but only because I know better. why try when you know the answer, right? I mean.. I’ve tried, I suppose. dropped hints. but I’m beginning to question if he doesn’t realize, or if he doesn’t want to realize, you know?” you turn to him, confused on why he was suddenly so attentive; his anxiety from moments before gone. his brow raises, waiting for you to elaborate. his heart skips a beat as you lean in even closer, breath fanning across his face.

“well, my right person… he doesn’t let people in. not fully. he acts like it’s because he doesn’t care but… i think he’s scared. he wants to be loved so badly, and i can see it. he doesn’t want someone to get hurt because of him. not again.” you speak cautiously, looking at him. really looking at him.

his breath hitches in his throat as he meets your eyes. were you… talking about him? no way. he opens his mouth to speak, to counter, to confess, but he’s cut off by the wedding march beginning to play.

and he’s right back to cursing whatever god he could think of. he can’t help but grin, though, as he stands with all the other guests. his heart beats rapidly in his chest, filling it with warmth.

he turns to watch jean walk down the aisle, anticipating the end of the ceremony—wishing his mutation was to speed up time rather than his adamantium claws. for once, though, it wasn’t because he couldn’t wait to get this over with. to get to the fun part already—the part where he could drink. it was because he couldn’t wait to finally tell you how he felt. to face his fears.

maybe, for once, he didn’t mind weddings so much.

he just hoped the next one would be yours.

[helioooss]

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.

[urstruly-ghst]

i think he knows !

in which you're hiding two things from your friend, romantic feelings and the bunch of cupcakes you made for him. will he accept it?

wc: 1.7k (edited)

author's note: what if i told u im back?!! have a holly jolly christmas xoxo ghst

ace trappola

Ace was someone you fell for gradually. It was unexpected. You liked him as a friend, then it progressed so naturally. How could you not? He was undeniably a charmer and just… He had this aura, as Cater would say, “totes cutie throughout.” After coming to terms with your feelings for him, the next step was to confess– it didn't need a reciprocation. You just wanted some closure to your feelings. The grand plan was to be outright, give the cupcakes, and get an answer.

You enlisted the help of Deuce and Grim, though they don’t know why you needed help with baking. However, a bribe was never out of the question! The simple bribe was enough to grab their attention and cause havoc in your kitchen. 

Yet, in times like these, you wished you had asked for help from someone else; being covered in powdered sugar and two rascals fighting over the batter spoon was enough to deter you. Deuce and Grim quarreled as they had different objectives with said spoon. Honestly, why didn't you ask Trey for help?

However, even with the trouble, you can't help but smile. They knew of your feelings and didn't tease you… Instead, they immediately insulted your tastes in men. When you dropped the bomb, you liked Ace, and they had to do a complete stop.

“ACE? THAT ACE?!” Both yelled when you first admitted your true feelings for the other part of your friend group. Grim was faster to judge, and his paws slapped your face with disbelief. 

“You can't be serious?! Ace? There are plenty of people here, henchman! What about Jack? He’s literally right there?!” Grim groaned as he couldn't believe his henchman was dumb enough to fall for that redhead. There were plenty of suitable candidates, but they chose Ace, resident troublemaker?!

Deuce shook his head and tried to help you unclaw Grim from you, but he was no less judgemental. While he finds it cute that the two of his friends have fallen for each other, though you weren't aware, he still judges your taste. Ace? The man who has done nothing but tease and even get all of the group in trouble?!

“Grim, come on, you can't force a heart to love and choose who to love. That's why love is messy,” Deuce said as he tried to placate Grim so he would not slap you with his paws. You felt loved in that moment for your feelings to be accepted (exclude Grim; that little monster would come to terms with it). 

You sighed and sat on the floor, exhausted. Who knew baking with love was exhausting? Deuce sat next to you and smiled while patting your head for encouragement, which made you feel slightly energized. He gave you that classic “You got this” smile. It was his trademark, the classic encouraging Deuce Spade. Before you can thank him, the rapid knocking was on the door, followed by that painfully sweet voice.

“Prefect! Hellooo! I heard you invited Deuce?! The hell, you hang out with Juice without me now? Just say you hate me!” It was Ace, his whining reaching to the kitchen. You panicked and immediately hid the cupcakes and tried to look presentable. Deuce and Grim also helped, panicking as Ace couldn’t be patient; his knocking was about to break down your new door!

“In a bit!” You yell out, embarrassed as you see how messy you look. Why is Ace even here? You remember you asked Cater to distract him! Then again, Cater could be busy, too. You cursed the world as it couldn’t time things the way you wanted. 

“Fu-nya! Stop breaking down our door, Ace!” Grim yelled out, annoyed, and shot you a look. He was judging you. Deuce and Grim tidied up and finally opened the door for Ace. He was in his dorm uniform, with a glare and pout. He looked at Deuce and you before dramatically sighing.

“How could you do this? I thought we were OGs here! Is this the duo in a trio moment?!” Ace said as he plopped on the couch with a hand over his chest. You sighed and shook your head, laughing before hiding your face.

“I was bribing them to do my work, Ace. I knew I couldn’t bribe you, so I went with Deuce.” Pandering to his ego, Ace looked at you suspiciously. It made you sweat. Does he know what you plan to do? Ace was glaring before shrugging and showing off his signature smirk.

“Hell yeah! You can’t bribe me; Juice here can be bribed, though!” Ace points at Deuce, cracking his knuckles. He is ready to roundhouse Ace to the next dorm. Ace laughed at his threat before saying, “Hey, don’t look offended!” 

You can’t help but feel flushed as Ace's laughter fills the dorm lounge. How dare he make you feel this way? You want to say it now, but that felt rushed. While your friendship with Ace was an adventure, your feelings were not something you wanted to rush to; it felt right to take it slow. Amidst your thoughts, Ace looked at you, and you panicked. Oh, were you staring too much?

Unknown to everyone, Ace had an idea why you were hanging out with Deuce. (He doesn’t.)

“Anyways, I know why you guys hang out without me. Hurts, though.” Ace shrugs as Deuce, and you look confused. Though, your heart was in your stomach at the moment. You were cursing internally as Ace smirked.

“You and Deuce, you’re dating, huh?! Come on, the cat’s out the bag. Hey! I’m happy for you two!”

Oh, thank the Sevens. He’s an idiot. You thought as you paused, trying not to laugh. Deuce looked confused before shaking his head. Grim deadpanned at you and Ace, feeling the hopelessness seep in. 

“No. We really are just friends. There is no duo in a trio moment here, Ace,” you explain as Deuce shakes his head and Grim just sighs. Both can’t believe how you fell for Ace.

“Whaaa? Okay, darn, my vibes must be off.” Ace said as he groaned. He was so confident, hoping for some drama too. He sighed before shrugging and acting as he usually would. You sighed in relief as he dropped the topic, and Deuce and Grim whispered amongst themselves.

[Next Day; Lunch]

You sat anxiously on the table alone, and the other friends were leaving you alone because today was the day! Though, can’t Ace come to the table any sooner? He’s taking his sweet time on the lunch line. You were fidgeting, and you couldn’t help but glare as the rest of the group were cheering awkwardly on the sidelines.

Except for Sebek, he’s cheering as loud as he can. He was saluting and clapping while giving a thumbs-up, too. Ace returned to the table, confused, as you sat alone. He teased you, 

“Why are we alone? What? This a date?” Ace joked before looking away. Unknown to you, Ace was flushed at his own joke. Sevens knew that he was wishing it was a date. You stammer and try to make the atmosphere light. 

“I mean, could be?”

“Wha–?!” 

[Two Days Earlier…]

Ace was sulking in his room while sighing loudly as the night seemed to drawl. The hangout you 

had earlier went by too fast. Ace was longing to be in your presence. He knew why, and it scared him to admit that. His phone's bright screen annoyed Deuce, who was forced to room with Deuce for a night. Deuce woke up and glared.

“Dude, you’re being loud, and your phone is so bright!”

“Deuce, I need your advice,” Ace said thoughtfully as he looked at the disheveled boy. Deuce faltered and pinched his skin to knock him out of his dream state. Ace's tone was so sincere that Deuce momentarily doubted that he was still talking to his friend. He gaped at Ace and straightened himself before gesturing for Ace to continue whatever melodrama he was experiencing. 

“So, our dear friend. You know, [Name]? Yeah, so… Uh…” Ace stalls as Deuce tries to make sense of what Ace is implying. Deuce looked at him, encouraging him just to finish because there was no judgment here. Ace and Deuce are quite literally bonded for life at this point. 

“I like them. And not the “Oh, they’re cool” type of liking. Sevens… I want to date them, okay?! I need… Why am I even asking this from you? Ugh,” Ace grumbled as he hid in his pillow. He was flushed, the tip of his ears peaking with red, while his hands were shaky. Deuce never saw Ace this way. It was almost laughable/

“Ooh! Someone’s got a crush.” 

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Listen, man. There’s no hope for me here. [Name] is way too good for me!”

“Heh, you got that right,” Deuce joked as he looked at Ace, who was staring at the ceiling longingly. He never looked this vulnerable.

“Oi! I’m trying–! You know what, good night!” Ace glared as he flipped Deuce off. He grumbled as he tucked himself back into his blankets and glanced at Deuce, who was laughing.

“Wait, come on! I’m listening!” Deuce laughs as he tries to coax Ace to confess what he is about to say. Ace grumbled and threw a pillow at Deuce, resulting in a pillow fight.

[Present Day, Lunch Time]

“I said… This could be a date!” You find the courage to say it. Ace flushed deep red as he tried to play things cool. You finally brought out the cupcakes with a nervous smile. As you offered the baked goods, the proud look in your eyes made Ace tremble and melt.

“If you only knew how much trouble I went to making these,” You say as you laugh to make things less awkward. Ace was shaky as he accepted it; the usual smirk he did was gone. He looked so shy it made you wonder if you were still with the Ace Trappola.

Ace grabbed the small box and smiled, flaunting his charm, before closing his eyes to steady his heart. He winked at you before smiling.

“So, I’m guessing there will be a duo moment in a trio?” He joked, making you blush when you realized what he meant. Oh, Sevens, is he?? “I think I know what’s gonna happen next,” Ace whispered as he sat beside you.

[shizuturnspages]

Hi I have a request could you make a yandere gojo with a shy reader who doesn't care that he is a yandere because the reader was in toxic relationships and doesn't see yandere behavior as bad Thank you for reading me ^^

Oh. My. God. THAT IS SUCH AN IMPRESSIVE IDEA. I'm so down for this.

Gojo’s Ego Feeds Off Your Acceptance

❥ When Gojo realizes you don’t see his obsessive, possessive tendencies as a red flag, he feels invincible. Most people would run screaming if they caught a glimpse of the real Satoru, but you? You’re fine with it. That just confirms what he’s always believed—you’re meant for him.

❥ He sees your tolerance as proof of your love. In his mind, you’re basically giving him permission to be as controlling and overbearing as he wants. “You don’t mind, do you? Of course not. You’re perfect, and perfect people don’t need anyone else but me.”

Your Shyness Brings Out His Protective Side

❥ Gojo already sees himself as your protector, but your shy nature makes him feel even more responsible for your well-being. He’s constantly hovering, ready to step in if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way.

❥ He loves that you rely on him—whether it’s for emotional support or dealing with situations that make you uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got this. You don’t have to lift a finger.”

He Gets a Little… Territorial

❥ Gojo doesn’t like the idea of anyone else getting close to you, especially since you’ve been in toxic relationships before. He’s convinced that only he can keep you safe, so he goes out of his way to isolate you from potential threats (aka anyone who isn’t him).

❥ He’s not subtle about it, either. If someone from your past tries to reach out, they’ll regret it. “Oops. Looks like they had a little accident. Guess you’ll have to stick with me, huh?”

He Twists Your Past to His Advantage

❥ Gojo uses your history with toxic relationships to justify his behaviour. In his mind, he’s not being overbearing—he’s saving you from ever being hurt again.

❥ He’ll casually remind you of how much better he is than anyone else you’ve been with. “They didn’t deserve you. None of them did. But me? I’m different. I’ll take care of you, no matter what.”

A little scenario for having such a good idea <3

You’d barely settled into your seat at the small café when you felt it—the unmistakable prickle of someone watching you. Or rather, someone burning a hole into your soul with their gaze. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Gojo Satoru, with his signature sunglasses and that infuriatingly cocky smirk, was already making his way toward you.

“Hey, sweetheart!” His voice was as loud and unapologetic as ever, turning heads across the room. He dropped into the seat across from you without waiting for an invitation, leaning forward with an intensity that made your cheeks heat up.

“Satoru,” you mumbled, barely managing to meet his eyes. You were shy by nature, but something about Gojo made it even harder to hold your ground. He was overwhelming in every sense of the word.

“Miss me?” he teased, propping his chin on his hand.

You bit your lip, not sure how to respond. Of course, you’d missed him—it was impossible not to miss someone as magnetic as Gojo. But you also knew that admitting it would only feed his ego.

“Maybe,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The waitress approached with a nervous smile, clearly intimidated by Gojo’s presence. He ordered for both of you without consulting you, rattling off your favorite drink and a dessert you’d been craving lately. How he knew about the dessert was a mystery, but with Gojo, you’d learned not to question things.

As the waitress scurried off, Gojo turned his attention back to you. “So, how’s my favorite person doing today?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “I’m okay.”

“Just okay?” He frowned, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His touch was warm, almost too warm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Come on, you can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

You hesitated, but the truth slipped out before you could stop it. “I… I ran into someone I used to know.”

Gojo’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “Someone from your past, huh?” His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made your stomach churn.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “It wasn’t a big deal. They just wanted to talk.”

“And did you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I didn’t want to.”

His expression softened, but there was still a flicker of something dark in his eyes. “Good. You don’t need people like that in your life. You’ve got me now.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the genuine warmth in his voice. Gojo could be a lot to handle, but moments like this reminded you why you hadn’t pushed him away. He made you feel… safe.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of playful banter and stolen touches. Gojo was relentless in his affection, showering you with compliments and teasing remarks that left you blushing and stammering. By the time he walked you home, you were exhausted in the best way possible.

“Thanks for today,” you said softly as you unlocked your door.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

You nodded, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his voice. “I know.”

“Good.” He reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin. “Because I meant what I said earlier. You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

There was something about the way he said it that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t a threat, exactly, but it was close. Still, you found yourself nodding, unable to argue.

“Just you,” you murmured.

Gojo smiled, satisfied. “That’s my girl.”

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just made a deal with the devil. But if Gojo was the devil, then maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind being damned.

[fluff-lover]

Healing Touch | Chapter 4: Trauma

Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Story summary: You’re a new member of the X-Men. Your mutation allows you to heal other people: you can close any wound, and cure any sickness. You’re not a fighter at all, but you’re useful at the battle field when it comes to saving injured mutants.

Masterlist

It’s been three days since the incident and you’ve hardly left your room. No one in the mansion blamed you. You were still shaken up, so they took turns to bring you water and food. Ororo, Jean and Rogue would stayed to keep you company for a little bit every once in a while, just to make sure you were fine.

You were alive, that much was true, but you wouldn’t say you were fine.

Despite being an X-Men you never experienced much violence. You were a lover, not a fighter. So when you suddenly got stabbed -by your friend, no less- you were shocked. The memory haunted you: the way your blood ran down Logan’s arms and pooled in the couch, the searing pain of his claws, the choking sensation as your own blood filled your throat… That kind of trauma would change anyone. As much as it pained you to admit it, for a fleeting moment you had been afraid of him.

And Logan…

The pure horror in his eyes when he snapped open and saw you bleeding. You could still hear his anguished cry¡ies out for help as he held your limp body on the couch. You were the one wounded yet you wanted to comfort him, to reassure him you were fine and not mad at him.

But he had run.

You didn’t know how to feel about him running away. Was he scared? Wracked with guilt? Did he think you’d died?... The questions broke your heart. You wanted to see him, to talk to him, but at the same time you weren’t sure if you should be afraid of him or not. He never meant to hurt you, you knew that, but he did and you hoped someday you’d be able to move past it.That is, if you ever saw him again. He was nowhere to be found.

Curled up on your bed, your face buried in a tear-stained pillow, you could only think about him. Was he safe? He’d left with nothing, not even a bag. The uncertainty made you cry harder.

Not knowing made you cry more.

There was a soft knock on your door and then Jean stepped in.

“Hey hun.” She said sitting down on your bed next to you.

“Any news?” Your voice just above a whisper.

Jean smiled kindly and nodded.

“We got a location. Scott and some others are heading out.” She replied. Charles had been working extra hard with Cerebro to locate Logan.

“What if he doesn’t want to come back?” You asked and sniffled.

“I’m sure he will, once he knows you’re okay and miss him.” She reassured you. “They’ll find a way to bring him back, I’m sure of it.”

“You should go with them.” You said. “If there’s anyone that he would do anything for, it’s you.” You added. It was no secret that Logan would follow Jean to the end of the world if she asked.

A flicker of something crossed Jean’s eyes, and she quickly looked away. 

“It’s not like that.” the redhead said.

“He loves you.” You sobbed. “You know it, I know it, even your fiancé knows it.” 

Jean gave you a pitiful look and sighed, she knew how you felt about him. She didn’t need to read your mind to know you were head over heels for him. It was easy to open up to Jean, even if she was the cause of your jealousy and envy. Even if you wanted to hate her, you couldn’t. 

“He’s never gonna love me back, but I don’t care about that now… I just want to fix things. Do you think I’m stupid for loving him after what he did?” You asked shyly. It was a question that had been plaguing you lately.

Jean took a moment to think and then shook her head.

“Love makes us all do stupid things, but the act itself of loving someone is never stupid.” Jean said while rubbing your arm soothingly, like a mother comforting a frightened child.

“I feel like I should be scared of him.” You confessed. “But I’m more terrified of the idea of never seeing him again.”

“Logan’s life is filled with violence, but I can assure you he never meant to hurt you. And he’d hate for you to be afraid of him.” She reassured you.

“Please bring him home.” You pleaded.

“We will. And I promise we won’t come back without him.”

-

“I’m cutting you off.” The bartender said as he pushed Logan’s glass away.

“The hell you are!” Logan said, baring his teeth.

“You had enough. It’s time to go.” 

Logan let out a low snarl and dropped some money on the bartop. Usually he would put up a fight, but tonight he was exhausted. The last few days were nothing but hopping from one bar to the other to get fucked up until they either closed or kicked him out. The rest of his time he spent it in a small motel room. He didn’t get much sleep though, everytime he closed his eyes he had nightmares of you dying in his arms. Not only he remembered that moment over and over again, but each time it got worse, more violent, more desperate.

He stumbled out of the bar and made his way to his motel room, his mind clouded by guilt and alcohol. As he pulled out the key and fumbled with the keys, he realized he had to get his shit together. He would run out of money soon, his healing factor burned through liquor faster than his wallet could keep up. Logan mulled over his options. Maybe he could go back to cage fighting? or go back to Canada?...

Just as he stepped into the room, everything went black.

The next thing he knew he was inside a moving vehicle. He groaned, the back of his head hurting a lot.

“The fuck…?”

“I think he’s waking up.” A voice said. It took him a moment, but Logan recognized that voice.

“Rogue?” Logan sat up and looked around the large car, his vision clearing after a moment. He was in a car with Rogue and Colossus, Scott and Jean in the front seats. And of all things, they were riding in a ridiculously looking Honda Odyssey.

“How are you feeling? We were worried Colossus hittoo hard on you.” Rogue said.

“What the fuck happened?” Logan asked, confused. “Did you punch me?” He asked, this time specifically to Colossus. The other mutant had the decency of looking ashamed.

“We didn’t think you’d come willingly.” He explained.

“What the fuck is going on? Where are you taking me?” Logan pressed.

“Back to the mansion.” Jean replied.

“No, you’re fucking not.” Logan protested.

“Colossus, can you punch him again?” Scott asked.

“Hasn’t it occurred to you that I don’t want to go back to the mansion?”

“Logan, this is ridiculous.” Rogue said. “The mansion is your home, you belong there.” Logan looked away. The mansion was the first place he could remember feeling like home. After a moment he managed to clear his head and gather enough courage to talk again.

“I can’t go back… What about Angel? Is she… Is she okay?”

Rogue smiled softly and nodded her head.

“She’s fine. She healed right away, actually. Barely left a mark.”

The relief Logan felt in that moment was like taking a deep breath after minutes under water.

“She wants to see you.” Jean said, catching Logan’s attention. “She’s been miserable since you left.”

“Isn’t she afraid of me?” Logan asked almost shyly. “She should be.”

“No. She’s afraid of losing her friend, though.” Jean replied. 

Guilt filled Logan once again.

“I never meant to hurt her.” He grumbled.

“We know, and she knows it too.” Rogue reassured him. 

“But you did hurt her, so now you have to apologize and fix it.” Scott said. Jean rolled her eyes and turned to look at Logan over her seat.

“Listen, you belong with us, with the X-Men. You made a mistake and someone got hurt, but that doesn’t mean you have to leave. This is still your home. And Angel is still your friend. She made me promise we would find you and bring you back.”

“She did?” Logan asked incredulously and Jean nodded.

“Mhmm, like I said, she’s really sad, and she misses you. She hasn’t left her room since you left.”

Logan didn’t know what to say. The thought of you being sad because of his absence made something stir in his chest.

Once they arrived at their destination and got out of the car, Logan looked at the mansion with hesitation. He didn’t think he would be back here, let alone to face you.

“Just an advice…” Scott said as he walked past him. “Take a shower and put on some clean clothes, you look and smell like crap.”

Logan growled.

“Thank you, Summers.” He said sarcastically. 

Despite his annoyment, Logan did follow Scott’s advice and got himself presentable. He never took so long to get ready before but that’s because he was stalling. He didn’t know what he would say or do once he saw you. His hands shook as he buttoned up his shirt and he felt like a teenager before prom… but worse.

Logan could face lots of villains with infinite power, yet he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you. You. Little, sweet angelic you. His friend.

With a groan and nothing left to do, Logan stepped out of his room and headed to yours.

To his surprise you weren’t in your room. He knocked several times but no one answered. At first he thought you were ignoring him. 

Maybe Jean was wrong. Maybe you didn’t want to see him.

“She’s in the garden.” He heard Charles say. Quickly turning around he found the Professor with a knowing smile on his face

“Are you spying on her?” Logan arched his brow.

“No, I just saw her on my way back from my walk.” Charles continued down the hall. “Can you believe that? I go on walks now!” He joked.

Logan shook his head and smiled softly before heading out.

He wasn’t surprised when he found you on your usual bench. When you heard him coming and turned to look at him, Logan froze.

“Hey.” he hesitated, not knowing if he should walk closer or not.

“Hi.” You said softly. “You’re back.” There was relief in your voice. 

“Yeah… I pretty much got kidnapped.” He muttered, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets.

“You shouldn’t have left in the first place. But you’re here now, so let’s celebrate.” You turned to pick something up and when you turned back around Logan saw you were holding a bottle of champagne.

“I’m not much of a champagne type of guy, sweetheart…” He said a bit confused.

“Oh, no, you got me all wrong. This is for me. This…” you turned around and picked a bottle of whiskey. “...is for you.”

That got a laugh out of Logan. How did you always manage to make everything better?

“You know me so well.”

Once he sat down he took the bottles from you and opened them. When you took the bottle of champagne again your eyes locked in.

“Come, sit with me.” You said, and finally Logan found the courage to get close to you.

This was it, this was the moment he was dreading.

“I’m so sorry, Angel.” He said softly. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, Logan, I know. I don’t blame you for it.”

He raised his hand to stop you. 

“Please let me finish.”

You shut your mouth and nodded. Logan took a long swing of the whiskey, almost drinking half of the bottle in one go. Then he took a deep breath and looked back at you.

“Ever since I can remember, which isn’t long because most of my memory consists of scraps and broken parts, I’ve had really bad nightmares. I have bits and pieces of what happened to me when I was experimented on. And it was torture. It was insufferable pain. No matter how much I try to run away from that past, every night I find myself back in that room, with those needles and cables attached to me, the adamantium filling in…” He took a shaky breath in and then another swing of whiskey, trying to calm himself down.

You didn’t say anything, as expected, but you did place your hand on top of his, encouraging to go on.

“...I remember parts of wars I fought in, crimes I committed when I ran with the wrong crowd… people I’ve lost.” He closed his eyes and defeat. “I lost so many people. I can’t lose you too. So when I saw what I did to you, I didn’t know how to handle it, I couldn’t deal with it.”

“Oh, Logan…” You whispered, wiping a tear away from his cheek. Logan tilted his head on your hand, seeking your warmth.

“I won’t lie to you Logan. You did scare me that night.” You confessed, and Logan’s heart broke a little bit more. “But I think that is to be expected. Maybe for a moment there you lost yourself, but it wasn’t your fault. You’re dealing with so much trauma, and you’re doing it alone, there’s only so much you can do.”

“What’s the alternative?” He asked, sounding defeated.

“To let others help you.” You replied. “Let me help you.”

“How?” Logan asked, confused.

“I can try to use my powers to heal you, to heal your mind, your brain, whatever it is that needs healing.” You offered. “I can’t assure you it will work but it’s worth the try. And if it doesn’t then we’ll figure something out.”

Logan placed his free hand on top of yours. 

“You always help, Angel. It’s all you ever do, help others.”

“It’s what I do best.” You shrugged and smiled. 

“I will never be able to express how sorry I am for hurting you. Not just for physically hurting you, but also for leaving you when that was the last thing I should’ve done.”

“I forgave you already.” It was true. Before Logan came back your thoughts were all over the place, you didn’t know how to feel, or if you two would ever be friends again. But the second you saw him standing there, a look of shame and sadness on his face, every doubt flew away. You loved him, and even if you never got to be more than just friends, you couldn’t imagine a life without him in it.

“You’re way too good, sweetheart.” He shook his head in disbelief. “There has to be something I can do to make it up to you.”

You nodded your head.

“There is something! I want you to promise you’ll never run away from me again.”

Logan smiled softly.

“Only if you promise not to run away from me either.” You felt the weight of his words. He was asking you to stick around, even if you were ever afraid of him again.

“I haven’t gone anywhere so far, that’s gotta count for something, right?” you smiled. Logan nodded.

“You got yourself a deal, gorgeous.” He said, closing the deal. You smiled and blushed at the nickname. “So, where do we start?”

You pursed your lips, deep in thought.

“Let’s piece your memories back together. What’s the first thing you can remember? Do you remember anything from your childhood?”

Logan tilted his head.

“Alberta, Canada… I was a kid… I remember my father, he was a kind man. And then I remember running away, I was scared because suddenly I had claws…”

You listened closely and after a moment you raised the bottle of champagne.

“I guess we’re going to Canada…”

[lesbiancharliedalton]

I've been editing this write-up for literal weeks now and I still feel like I can't get in everything that I want to convey, but I'll try.

It's officially been one year since I stayed up ALL night (like, til 10-11 AM) editing this, my very first full-length music video. All in one sitting. To most, it's probably just a regular character edit or fan-made music video. To me, it's something else. It's catharsis, love and and an explosive expression of myself. To this day, I still can't quite explain what I went through when I was making this. I had just heard this song for the very first time about 24 hours prior and I immediately knew I had to make this music video. I listened to the song, and immediately thought of Charlie. I knew I had to make this. When it was done, I broke down crying and didn't stop for about 2 hours. I came to a lot of conclusions about myself and my life and I had never felt simultaneously more vulnerable and more accepting of myself.

I was crying, partially, because I realized that I was feeling real, genuine love for this fictional character who had been living quietly inside of me and influencing me for years and years. Which is an insane and crazy thing to say. And at first, I felt shame, because I knew it was crazy, and also because it made me realize I had never romantically loved another human being before, and certainly not to this extent. This revelation first made me feel scared, isolated and embarrassed. I thought it was really sad that I was only able to feel this way, feel this level of understanding and love for someone who would never exist and who could never hurt me. I thought I had matured past that way of thinking. It was embarrassing to know that I could spend hours upon hours crying and expelling all my emotional energy just trying to craft a love letter to someone who could never reciprocate because they quite literally have never existed.

But then I realized that it felt right. I had spent my life with all this pent-up energy and love and emotion and I kept putting it in all the wrong places. Nothing seemed to work for years and I felt disconnected from most of society. I realized that night that it was my own doing. I had been hurt and beat down so many times that I detached myself entirely. I repressed my passions that others dismissed as frivolous, I refused to acknowledge or show my feelings or admit to others how I felt about them and I lived a life that I was absolutely miserable in due to fear of being embarrassed, made fun of, or alienated.

In my fear of becoming alienated, I had alienated myself.

And for the first time in years, things made sense. Through rewatching this movie, through seeing this character again, my eyes were opened. I don't know why or how, but through loving Charlie I started the long and arduous process of loving myself. I saw parts of myself in him and his journey, parts that I had been repressing for years and years. And I saw parts of myself that I wanted to be in this character. I was seeing clearly for the first time.

And somehow, through this movie, this character, through crafting this love letter set to lyrics that I wish I could tell him to his face, I found myself. I realized I didn't need to pretend to be someone else anymore. I realized that by trying to be what everyone else wanted to be, I was making myself miserable and further isolating myself. I realized that I finally wanted to be myself, whoever that is, for the first time in years. It seems like an extremely obvious conclusion to make, but for some reason it took me seeing Charlie for the first time in ten years to really, truly realize it. It also made me realize that through the process of connecting with myself instead of running from it, it would become easier for me to connect with others around me too. I've become much more emotionally open and even braver when it comes to other people. I've done things I would have never done just a few years ago. I make connections with all sorts of new people constantly, and not online.

I still can't explain how sitting down and manically crafting a music video helped me come to all these conclusions that had been banging around in my head for a couple of months, but sometimes personal epiphanies come to us in unexpected ways I guess.

As ridiculous as it sounds, through Charlie Dalton, through loving him, I found and learned to love myself. And it doesn't matter that he isn't real, because the impact that he's had on me is very real, and personally I've stopped believing that it's cringe and now I think it's kind of beautiful. For years, I had convinced myself that I was incapable of love--giving and receiving. Through making this, I realized that I had plenty of love to give, I just didn't know where to put it. I poured all of it into this video. How beautiful to love something so much and have it change you.

Charlie Dalton - VIENNA

[midnightminx90writings]

Emmrich wasn’t lying to Rook when he said he doesn’t regret their relationship.

But he did have second thoughts about it, before the end. And those are the thoughts he regrets more than anything, because they could have cost him everything.

His whole life, all Emmrich has wanted is lasting love, something that will last into eternity. Someone to hold his hand, to sleep next to at night. A person that will sit next to him and read books, or work in a garden.

Someone who will say “I love you” in return and mean it.

Wanting is a scary thing. A terrifying thing, if he is to be honest with himself.

Because now he has found someone who wants him back, and while Rook flirts with him in return, and does so at frankly the strangest occasions, Emmrich is terrified this is just another fleeting thing.

But Rook takes his hand, takes his heart, takes all of him and turns those too large feelings into something slightly more manageable.

Parts are put into Manfred; into carefully guiding him to become more, to become someone who can take care of himself long after Emmrich is gone.

More than an assistant; now a prodigy. A son, as Rook says, and a part of Emmrich settles, a part he did not know needed settling, but there all the same.

Like the piece of a puzzle he never knew the scope of.

Then there’s Rook himself; calming and exciting in equal measures until Emmrich no longer knows which way is up.

Rook, who loves unconditionally and surprisingly, who turns Emmrich’s knees weak and holds him up with the same look in his eyes. Rook, who tells him gold is his favourite colour and in the next breath admits that Emmrich is his first in everything.

And how can a man respond to that?

By bewilderment, at first, then pure joy and pride over being chosen. And lastly, thoughts he would like to not admit to, calculating ones entailing how to best go about it, to show how good it can be with the right person. How right.

It feels selfish, Emmrich thinks, but shows an immense amount of trust.

He cannot say no to that. To hold that honour.

So he kisses Rook, shows him the merest hint of what he can look forward to, even as his own body screams at him to take it further but also to step away before he ruins something beautiful again.

He gives, in the end, helpless not to.

Emmrich knows the exact number of days that pass between Rook’s first expression of interest, to their first kiss, to their first time.

And he knows the exact number of days between that, and when Rook is taken from them. From him.

When Rook is taken, Emmrich is terrified.

His love is gone without a trace, after an argument between them that they did not resolve, and the loss of two of their dear friends.

Emmrich can see why people are driven to madness, to desperation, doing whatever it takes to get their loved one back. His books hold no aid for the first time in his life. He cannot return to the Necropolis because what if…

And so he cries and he rages and wears himself into exhaustion again and again, dreams filled with nightmares where Rook is never found and there is an empty grave next to those of his parents.

Even Manfred holds no comfort for him now, as hours turns into days, turn into weeks until finally, there is a hand in his, and he knows that hand unlike none other, and he thinks do not let go this time, clutch it as tight as you can until only eternity remains.

EDIT: now on AO3

[tiger333k]

there are a lot of people complaining about Arcane season 2, and yes, I get it, it is a bit rushed at times and it would do well if they did a little extra explaining on some parts but honestly it feels like people are just nitpicking sometimes

example: just saw a video about someone complaining about ep7 about Powder and Ekko getting together, and just, wtf??? yes, I know it's because of Ekko's tip that vi died and I know the characters should've it weird when Ekko woke up and just started pointing about things in the past that they really don't want to be reminded of... but if you found this a problem you really didn't watch the show. the main theme about this alternate universe is forgiveness, powder forgave Ekko (though tbh, it was really Vi's plan to go rob someone the whole time), vander and silco forgave each other etc etc. alt Ekko was slaving away at this project when Ekko (firelight) got thrust into his body. powder said it herself, genius and insanity go hand in hand, Ekko saying random things like this probably wasn't even a surprise. also saw a thumbnail where Ekko and powder were kissing and they put 'cheating' beside the image. hopefully I won't have to explain how stupid this is.

Ekko didnt just kiss powder and go 'I can fix jinx'. he doesn't want to change jinx into powder, he even admits that jinx has something good that powder doesn't, jinx's ideas can change the world. what Ekko learned from the alt universe and powder is forgiveness, to look at the past and move forward, leaving a few things behind, leaving behind hate, anger, for the present, for the future. he learned to forgive jinx, so they could build something new.

also adding the fact that it wasn't vi's death that changed everything, it was the act of a child, the fact that someone had been killed that points out how dangerous hextech is, and that's why it was never developed.

personal opinion here, I don't think it was just the death and the letter that changed everything, I think it was little details leading up to the moment silco forgave vander, the moment everything went right. it wasn't one spontaneous event that changed it. we don't know what happened in the alt universe, we don't know if the fight went differently, or if slico had done anything different... maybe he never developed shimmer, maybe he wasn't so set on revenge. we don't know, so maybe don't jump to conclusions so quickly?

another point: jinx didn't just magically lose her trauma because of Isha, dunno what you guys were thinking.

jinx in season one had obvious mental issues, and we always see her drowning out the noise with blaring music. the reason why she was like that was because of her internal conflict, of powder and jinx clashing. jinx was trying to forget the past, and powder was the one that kept remembering it. powder was the one that kept trying to insist it wasn't her fault. powder was the one that held on to everything, and jinx hated powder. and in S1E9 we see her let powder die.

she accepts that she is a jinx to people she loves. the voices stop calling her a jinx, because she already knows this. she accepts this. jinx ruin everything. jinx is a curse. it isn't a case where some kid comes in and changes everything, jinx isn't healed in season 2, she just accepts that she is a catastrophe.

the only thing Isha changes is that jinx learns to love powder through Isha, and maybe even lets a bit of powder come back through. and that's why, when Isha is thrown into Stillwater, the voices come back before jinx takes control again.

three: Caitlyn was done dirty, her entire character was ooc

no it was not. you just saw it through a different lens and decided you didn't like it.

like it or not, Cait has always been privileged. she goes where she wants, does what she likes because she has the kirramman family name to protect her. Marcus says it himself in S1, we just chose to ignore it because that's when cait was doing what we thought was right, investigating and helping Vi, although she was not an enforcer, had no right to be there, we liked it because, well, because we hate Marcus, and she was actually doing something right back then

till season 2, where she gasses Zaun, goes all hitler, and... acts exactly how she acted in S1. she does what she wants, goes where she likes, to achieve one thing: get revenge on jinx.

cait has never lost a parent, she has never learned to cope with such a loss, so she reacts in a wrong way, reacts so drastically that we feel is out of character, its not. we merely see her previous traits painted in a different light and y'all decided you hate it.

I could go on forever honestly, but these three points got on my nerves the most, so I decided to say something about it. there.

this is way too long, my god.

[thunderg]

Sweather Weather | Kim Taehyung x Reader

a/n: Hi! if you enjoy it, please like it, reblog it and comment, this helps me to keep going <3

Genre: Fluff, Normal au, Soulmates.

Warning: None...i think.

Wc: 1412

The store was quiet. It was noon, which meant there were no customers, allowing him to work with serenity and pay attention to the smallest details: the smell of the flowers, the soft ray of sunlight illuminating the room. He was in his element, so much so that he allowed himself to hum a song while preparing an order for one of his clients.

Taehyung had always loved flowers. He knew some considered it unmanly, but he didn’t care anymore, not when this job allowed him to be surrounded by beautiful things.

–Must be something~ –he sang as he placed the arrangement on the table.

Since he was a child, he had felt a special fascination with beautiful things. It wasn’t an obsession, but his appreciation was so evident that it was impossible to ignore. His mother often told him that in a past life, he had been an artist. Although said lightly, that statement always stirred up a strange feeling in him, a kind of nostalgia he couldn't quite understand.

He never wanted to investigate why he felt this way. He believed in cheesy things like fate, and hoped that someday, fate would clarify the doubt that tormented him. Yoongi, one of his older friends, had always thought his beliefs were stupid and childish. It wasn’t that the man was bad, he just... had very strong opinions. If you didn’t get along with him, you’d never earn his favor.

On more than one occasion, he had tried to convince him that things like love at first sight weren’t as pathetic as he thought. Of course, he had wasted an entire day of his life on the attempt. Fine, maybe he was a little stubborn on the subject, but who could blame him? His love for beautiful and cheesy things had grown so much that, by now, it was impossible to ignore—even for himself.

It was almost sad that, despite being someone well-versed in all the things women supposedly liked, he had never found the love of his life. Sure, he’d had a girlfriend or two, but nothing special, nothing that made him feel those butterflies in his stomach that everyone talked about. He longed to smile like an idiot just thinking about that special person.

Every day, he had to watch people get the things he longed for, with the bouquets he put so much effort into. Was he cursed? Was he so unpleasant to the female population? He sighed, defeated. It wasn’t worth thinking about, he tried to convince himself. However, this whole issue tormented him more than anyone would care to admit. Dying alone didn’t sound appealing at all.

The sound of the bell at the front door interrupted his train of thought. He lifted his head, almost gasping when he saw who entered the store. Damn, had he died or was he seeing an angel? The strangest part was that her face looked oddly familiar. Was she a model? It didn’t matter, his heart was racing, his hands were sweating, and his throat had dried up. How would he speak to her in this state?

The girl timidly approached the counter. At moments like these, he regretted not having hired someone to help him. She was so beautiful that it made him want to flee to the farthest corner of the room. He mentally prepared himself to be disappointed, to hear that she just wanted to order a bouquet for her cute, rich European boyfriend with golden retriever vibes. He almost scoffed at the thought.

–G-Good morning –she murmured, quickly correcting herself when she saw the clock on the wall–. Sorry, good afternoon.

Taehyung bit his lower lip, trying to hold back a smile. She was so adorable, embarrassed. It made him want to scream with joy. He took a deep breath and put on his commercial smile.

–How can I help you, miss?

The young woman nervously fiddled with the hem of her sweater.

–W-Well, I need a flower arrangement.

Here it comes –he thought–: "for my boyfriend." He was already ready to dismiss his fleeting crush.

–My friend’s boyfriend is having a dance recital, and she asked me to buy some flowers here.

He gave a soft clap, unable to contain himself. To his relief, it passed off as excitement to start working.

–What flowers do you need? Do you have something in mind?

She clumsily took out her phone, almost dropping it in the process.

–She needs lilies and pink peonies, with a card for a message… please –she said, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes.

Done. Now he was a puddle melted by this girl’s cuteness. How could someone be so beautiful and yet so adorable? It was unfair.

–Right away, miss.

As best as he could, he gathered the necessary flowers for the bouquet. He bit his lip; this bouquet had to be perfect. He didn’t want to look like a fool in front of her. He wanted to curse when he saw his hands trembling. This would make the task more difficult. He took a deep breath; he could do this, he had been doing this for years. He adjusted his glasses and continued. Once he managed to make something decent enough to justify the years he’d spent working, he took a card—small, discreet, just enough to be pretty. He grabbed a pencil and then looked at the girl.

–Alright, what should I write? –he asked.

She blushed furiously as she checked the order for her friend, avoiding his gaze in the process.

–G-Glad to have you by my side... –she swallowed nervously and whispered something more.

–Could you repeat that, miss? I didn’t catch it.

–I said… or have you on top of me, whichever you prefer.

She covered her face, letting her hair fall like a waterfall, as extra protection for her gaze, visibly embarrassed by her friend’s message. This time, he couldn’t contain his laughter.

–Wow, your friend is original –he smiled as he finished writing the card.

The girl stammered an apology, clearly embarrassed. He gently shook his head, amused by the situation, but when their hands brushed while he handed her the bouquet, a sensation hit him like lightning. Suddenly, images that didn’t seem his own but were terribly familiar formed in his mind: the sound of rain hitting the windows, a warm hug, a kiss that seemed to contain all the love in the world.

In that memory, he was hugging her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, where the soft sweater of the girl cushioned the contact. Her scent made him feel at home, and her presence filled him with a calm that made him drowsy. The gentle tapping of the rain accompanied the moment, while she, in silence, tenderly stroked his hands, enjoying both his company and the warmth he provided.

–I’m freezing, Tae. You shouldn’t hug me, you’ll get cold –she murmured, concerned.

–It doesn’t matter, I like being able to share my warmth with you –he responded with a calm smile. He loved knowing that, despite how old and worn-out his sweater was, it could still keep them both warm: him and the person he loved.

He took her chin and kissed her as if it were the last kiss they were going to share. And even if it were, Taehyung was sure of one thing: even if a thousand lives passed, he would make sure to find her in each and every one of them. His soul and his body belonged to her completely.

He regained his senses when he heard the girl shriek in surprise at the accidental contact.

–What was that? –she asked, stunned, while taking a step back.

He looked at her with a mix of amazement and happiness.

–We’ve found each other again, darling –he said with a soft laugh.

Suddenly, everything made sense. His purpose in life, all those inexplicable passions and desires. Everything clicked when he saw her again. He felt complete, as if the missing piece of his life had finally found its place. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, as if everything he had been searching for in his life had finally made sense. His heart was beating fast, but also with an unexpected calm, as if he were finally in the right place, with the right person. He would never be alone again, nor would he have to long for the ghost of a memory. She was there, in front of him, looking as unreal as the first time. And although he still didn’t know what would happen next, he was sure of one thing: he wasn’t going to let her go this time.

Masterlist

(Banners of @cafekitsune)

[glitter-stained]

On villains with tragic backstories

Sometimes I'm like "is it really psychophobic, maybe i'm reaching, the character did say that they're not actually crazy they just like killing people" and then the narrative will hit me with "some terrible, dark horrors have happened in your past and this is why you are killing people but it's not too late to get admitted in a psych ward" and I wanna throw the comic through the window and myself with it.

The "mentally ill villain" trope isn't just saying that the villain is crazy or giving them hallucinations. If you're giving a villain a tragic backstory, and that backstory has caused them severe suffering the memory of which is still painful to the day, and the story expects you to believe that the villain's horrible behaviour is explained by the fact that this suffering broke something in them... It's worth examining if you're not just vilifying or demonizing mental illness on accident.

The issue isn't that your villain can't have a tragic backstory, or that the tragic backstory can't explain their actions: the issue is when the suffering itself is treated as a sufficient cause for the behaviour. Say a character was raised and abused by a cult that taught them killing puppies is good and then they kill puppies: not psychophobic. Say a character who used to love puppies was kidnapped and tortured by some guy just for the fun of hurting someone, no brainwashing or anything just pain, and then they get out and kill puppies because of the torture: psychophobic. There's a missing link in the reasoning here, a question of "what about this event taught/brought the person to the conclusion that it was a good idea to kill puppies or gave them a desire to?" The psychophobia is insidious, hiding in the implication that the trauma (because this is what it's really all about) is what made them kill puppies. Sometimes, people with trauma kill puppies. But killing puppies (or exploding buildings with children in it, or shooting someone in the spine, or severing heads and putting them in a duffle bag, or, or, or) is not and has never been a symptom of ASD*, PTSD, CPTSD, BPD, DID, DDD or any other trauma-induced disorder. It's a good idea to verbalise the logic, emotions, needs and desire that motivate your villain and where they stem from, to avoid falling into the trap that thinking their trauma, because of the magnitude of the empathy it's meant to generate for the character, is enough of an explanation for their behaviour. A villain being sympathetic because of their backstory doesn't mean that their actions are necessarily coherent.

On top of that, it's important to take in account other factors such as the original background of the character, their vulnerabilities, their age (super important when writing childhood/teenage trauma/young villains!), but also their ethnicity, gender etc etc. This is important for realism and accuracy, because trauma is neither a magical button that creates heroes nor sociopaths, but also because psychophobia interacts so easily with other forms of discrimination slipping through the cracks. Now that you've identified that your woc character becoming a manipulative, sociopathic "crazy ex" because of her trauma was not just a consequence of her trauma but the interaction between the trauma and personal factors, what are those implicit factors that contribute to make her manipulative, obsessed with her ex, etc.? And now that you've extracted them explicitly, like a zip file, can you examine them to see how many of these personal characteristics have to do with her being a woman of colour?

I hope it's clear that I'm not telling you what to write- I think imposing the idea that villains can't be poc, or queer, or working class, or disabled, or mentally ill, etc. is harmful, because it reduces potential representation, it's based on the assumption that I know what you're gonna write and it's gonna be fundamentally ableist, and it puts this pressure on fictional characters to be perfect icons of representation rather than actual characters with depth and personality (kinda like thinking you can't write a female character who cries because it implies women are weak). This is just to encourage you to be mindful about what you're doing when writing that tragic backstory, because it's not necessarily what we think about when we talk about mental illness, and it's important to analyse what you're writing with a measure of introspection: why am I writing this? What does this imply about the character? What's my reasoning for this character's reasoning?

I have zero issue with a mentally ill character kicking a puppy as long as the narrative isn't trying to tell me that it's a symptom of mental illness to kick puppies. But of course, perhaps the story could also be a critique of those stories about mentally ill people kicking puppies, and the satyre is flying way over my head; or perhaps there will be a secret plot-twist that happens after I stopped reading that explained why the character was kicking puppies, perhaps the book was an attempt at guiding and manipulating the reader into realising the flaws in that reasoning on their own, or perhaps it was a metaphor for something else entirely, etc, etc. I don't know. The point is, write whatever you want; but write it self-aware.

*in this context, ASD meaning Acute Stress Disorder

Two examples of comics I think do it pretty well:

> Arkham Knight Genesis: for all its flaws (i didn't really like this one), I think it does a pretty decent job of getting us to understand how Jason got where he is, that it wasn't just "tortured until evil", all the reasons for his resentment, all the brainwashing and manipulation are pretty explicit. Kind of an "easy mode" because the plot revolves around brainwashing, but solid on that front.

> Red Hood Lost Days: this one I'm more mitigated because there's this whole "pit madness/the pit made him a psychopath" thing Winick introduced to limit the damage of previous runs (and rightfully so imo, Pit Madness is a much better explanation for some of Jason's most batshit ooc runs than just trauma), but there are some pretty solid elements, especially when you know earlier comics. I'm thinking specifically about when Jason says something around the lines of "you murder people; i put down a lizard", as a direct echo to Judy's "I put down a mad dog", that's one of my favourite comic lines ever, I cheered seeing that parallel like yes, I can see the reasoning, I understand where you learned the lesson and what the thought process is and I support it.

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 12: Industry Baby

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 4.9k

Chapter 12/15

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: another week

18+ Minors DNI (mature)

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

To say that Natasha was a partier would be a lie—a misjudgment of character. She could be sociable when the occasion demanded it, enjoyed good music and appreciated a decent drink. But industry parties? They were never her thing. She felt entirely out of place without the rest of the band there. The music was a little too loud, the conversations a little too shallow, and the people far more stiff than the whiskey in her cup.

No matter how familiar it had become, fame was still a funny concept to Natasha. It was fleeting, yet always looming in her foreview. She only wanted to make good music with her friends when she started. Now, her face was plastered on billboards, their songs dominated the charts, and she’d become someone people recognized in coffee shops and airports.

But none of that compared to you.

Being new to fame was one thing; being born into it was another beast entirely. Natasha had worked for every ounce of recognition, climbing to the top through sheer talent and determination. You, on the other hand, had grown up in this world. Spotlights didn’t faze you—they cradled you. Fame wasn’t just familiar; it was second nature.

Hollywood was a place that prided itself on being private and exclusive. If you were someone, then you knew people; if you didn't know someone, you weren't anyone at all, making it easier for her to stand at the bar and sip from her glass. Natasha sipped her whiskey, watching you from across the room. You stood in the center, effortlessly commanding attention, laughter bubbling around you like champagne. You weren’t just in your element—you were the element. She could see it now, just how polished you were. The ease with which you charmed people, how naturally the conversation flowed, and how the crowd gravitated toward you like moths to a flame.

And that’s when he approached her.

“Romanoff, right?” The man’s voice was smooth, confident—too confident.

Natasha turned to face him, her green eyes flicking over his sharp suit and easy smirk. “Depends who’s asking.”

“Matt,” he said, extending a hand. “Big fan of Velvet Rebellion. Love what you’re doing.”

She shook his hand, her expression neutral. “Appreciate it.”

“I’ll admit,” Matt said, leaning against the bar, “I didn’t peg you as the industry-party type.”

“You’re right,” Natasha replied, her tone dry.

He chuckled, clearly unfazed. “Fair enough. But I take it you’re here for her?” He gestured toward you, his smirk widening as he spoke.

Natasha followed his gaze, landing on you mid-laugh as you brushed the arm of some Hollywood actor she vaguely recognized.

“Yeah,” she said.

Matt’s grin grew. “She’s something else, isn’t she? Always had a way of working a room. Knows exactly how to keep people hooked.”

“She’s great,” Natasha said evenly, though her grip on her glass tightened.

“She’s more than great,” Matt continued, swirling the drink in his hand. “We used to run in the same circles back in the day. You know, just industry kids doing... industry things.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her expression unchanging. “That so?”

“Oh, nothing serious,” Matt said with a casual shrug, though the glint in his eye suggested otherwise. “Just... fun times. She’s always had that magic. It makes you feel like you’re the only one who matters.”

Her stomach turned, her mind racing through the implications of his words. She breathed deeply and exhaled through her nose, reminding herself to keep it together. She wouldn't bite. He was an asshole who was bored with his time.

"Matt, is it?" Natasha tilted her head. "I recognize you from something. Maybe some 90s sitcom."

He grinned as if being impressed with himself and not her for guessing. Natasha knew his type. Narcissistic and self-centered. He was playing into her hand.

"Have you worked on anything in this decade?" she feigned interest.

"No-no, not really," He cleared his throat. "I got married and had kids."

Natasha hummed. "That's too bad. Your career seems a bit stagnant. What are you, forty? It's never too late to get a good comeback gig."

"Uh, yeah," Matt coughed, his smile fading slightly.

“I mean it,” Natasha pressed, her expression perfectly neutral. “I could look into some opportunities for you if you’d like.”

“No, no, that’s quite alright,” Matt said quickly, his tone more subdued.

“Suit yourself.” Natasha lifted her glass in a mock toast before turning on her heel. “Excuse me.”

She made her way across the room with purpose, her eyes finding you immediately. The tension in her shoulders eased as she reached you, sliding a hand gently onto your back. She waited patiently for you to finish your conversation, her presence steady and reassuring.

When you turned and saw her, your face lit up. “Hey, there you are,” you said warmly, slipping an arm around her waist.

“Hey,” Natasha replied, her voice soft.

“I want you to meet some people,” you said, motioning toward the small group of women nearby. “Some of my good friends. Stacy Goldman, Kira Ryan, and Ashley Williams. We’ve known each other since forever.”

Natasha smiled politely, nodding at each of them in turn. “Nice to meet you all.”

“It’s about time, isn’t it?” Kira teased, nudging your shoulder. “We’ve been dying to meet her.”

“Yeah,” Stacy chimed in with a grin. “We were starting to think this was for PR.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “We’ve just been busy. You know how it is."

"So, Natasha, great album you have. Your single is fire," Ashley complimented. "Do you write on your own?"

"Well, I usually have Wanda to help," Natasha answered. " It's more of a cowriting situation."

The group nodded approvingly, and the conversation flowed easily for a moment. Then, Kira leaned forward, her tone light but purposeful.

“So, we’ve been planning this couple’s retreat thing,” she began, glancing at Stacy and Ashley, who nodded eagerly. “It’s upstate, really private—yoga, wine tastings, all that good stuff. We usually do it every year. Y/n can tell you—it’s amazing. You two should come.”

Natasha blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Oh, that sounds... interesting. Tell me more about it?”

“No, I think we’re good,” you interjected smoothly, your tone polite but firm. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but I don’t think we’ll have time. Things are pretty packed with Natasha’s schedule right now.”

“But I could make time,” Natasha said, glancing at you with a small smile.

“We’ll think about it,” you replied, patting Natasha’s back gently before steering the conversation toward another topic. Natasha opened her mouth to say more but closed it quickly, sensing this wasn’t the moment.

Before the conversation could linger, the group’s attention was pulled away as someone across the room gave an exaggerated cheer. Heads turned to see a familiar actor making a grand, attention-grabbing entrance, his laughter echoing above the music.

“Oh my God, is that Chris?” Stacy whispered, already moving toward the growing circle of admirers.

“I’m not missing this,” Kira said with a grin, grabbing Ashley’s arm as they followed Stacy.

As your friends drifted toward the excitement, you returned with Natasha, offering her an apologetic smile.

Natasha watched the trio weave through the crowd, then turned to you, her curiosity evident. “You shot that down pretty quickly. What’s the story there?”

“It’s just not our scene,” you said casually, but your tone didn’t quite match the ease of your words.

“Your scene, maybe,” Natasha countered softly, her green eyes searching yours. “It sounded like something you’ve done before.”

You hesitated, your polished exterior faltering for just a moment. "With Sam."

"Oh," Natasha nodded. "So does that mean you don't want to do it with me?"

"No, no, that's not it," You shook your head. "It's stupid, really."

"Nothing you could say is stupid," Natasha reassured. "Tell me what's up."

You sighed, glancing over to where your friends stood chatting with Chris. "It's a group of us that have all been friends since high school or before. It just wouldn't feel right."

Natasha hummed in response. "You hang out with the band all the time?"

"Yes, but that's different," You answered.

"Different how? Sounds like you don't want your friends to know me," Natasha shrugged.

"I can't tell you the last time they met any of my dates," You replied. "It's just weird, is all."

"Okay," Natasha nodded as she sipped from her cup.

"Please don't be angry," You grabbed her hand.

"I'm not," Natasha replied.

You searched her expression. She's being truthful.

"Are you enjoying the party otherwise?" You asked.

"Oh, definitely," Natasha nodded. "It's a real rager."

"We can leave early," You offered.

"No, I have to be the last one here," Natasha chuckled.

"Alright," You sighed.

"Let's just enjoy the night, and we'll talk later," Natasha said.

"Okay," You nodded, letting her lead you through the rest of the party.

The evening wore on, and the conversations stretched further into the night. The music grew louder, the drinks poured faster, and the air grew thicker with energy.

*******

The ride home was quiet, the hum of the car’s engine filling the silence between you. Natasha’s hands gripped the steering wheel; her knuckles pale under the faint glow of the streetlights. You glanced at her once or twice, but her expression was unreadable, her gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead.

When she finally pulled up to your driveway, she cut the engine. Natasha stepped out first, circling the car to open your door. You murmured a soft “thanks” as you stepped out, her hand briefly brushing your arm as she guided you toward the entrance.

"You're angry," You spoke as you dropped your house keys into the key dish. Bear greeted you with a soft whine, and you walked to the back door to let him out.

"No," Natasha said. "I'm just thinking."

"Okay, but about what?" You asked.

"Nothing." She waved you off.

"It's something, and I want to know," You pressed. "Something at that party ticked you off."

"Fine," Natasha sighed. "I want to know why it's so hard for you to introduce me to your friends. You won't even give me a chance."

"What? I've introduced you," You furrowed your brows. "We've hung out with Monica."

"Yeah, and that was fine," Natasha scoffed. "But I don't understand what's so different about this."

"Nothing is," You snapped, your tone sharpening with impatience.

"Well, it's not nothing, is it?" Natasha’s voice rose, frustration clear in her words. Your tone indicated something more. "You've been distant ever since I asked about it."

"I just want a moment," You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to calm the storm inside your chest. "Do you think I’m shutting you out of my life or something?"

"I didn’t say that," Natasha retorted, her jaw clenching as she fought to keep her composure.

"Okay, then what?" you asked, arms crossed tightly in defense. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to be honest with me," Natasha pressed, her voice softer now but still laced with tension. "I’m trying to understand what’s going on here."

"Nothing's going on," you said, exasperated, your hands falling to your sides. "It’s just a retreat, Nat. It doesn’t mean anything."

"You keep saying that, but I don’t think it is," Natasha argued. "You don't trust me."

"I trust you with everything," You fired back. "I think this is a stupid thing to argue over, really. I'm going to bed. Are you coming?"

Natasha stood in place.

"Fine, let Bear in when you're done pouting," You sighed.

Bear's claws clicked against the patio floor as he raced toward the back door. Natasha's expression softened at the sound of his paws, and she moved to let him inside. As the dog trotted into the foyer, Natasha shut the door behind him and followed him down the hall.

You were already seated on your vanity when she entered the bedroom. Bear settled at the foot of the bed, his head resting on his paws.

"I don't want to argue," Natasha began.

"Then let's not," You agreed. You were taking your time wiping the makeup from your face.

"There's a lot we don't know about each other," Natasha tried a different angle.

"You're right," You looked back at her. "But this is something I don't feel like getting into."

"Why not?" Natasha asked.

"Because it doesn't matter," You repeated, turning away again. "I know that's not the answer you want, but it's the truth."

"Okay," Natasha said quietly. She watched as you finished removing your makeup, her gaze thoughtful. She wanted to push, but the hurt in your voice stopped her. You moved across the room to climb into her lap.

"I'm sorry," Natasha wrapped her arms around your waist.

"Me too," You placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Are we okay?" Natasha asked.

"Always." You kissed her lips.

"I'm gonna get changed," Natasha stood with you.

"Okay," You smiled as she pecked your lips once more.

"Don't forget, we're going shopping tomorrow," You reminded her.

"Yeah," Natasha nodded.

As Natasha went to the bathroom, her mind replayed the conversation. The shower hissed to life as she stepped inside, the warm water hitting her skin, but it didn’t provide the release she hoped for. The steam filled the air, blurring the edges of her thoughts.

She had overreacted. The realization hit her like a cold splash, and she stood there for a long moment, letting the water flow over her, her mind drifting back to the beginning. Why had she reacted so strongly?

This was her first real disagreement with you about something trivial. She's met your parents. You introduced her every chance you got. You've told the world you're in love with her. Her defensiveness was instinctive, a knee-jerk reaction to the hurt she feared.

Natasha shut off the shower and wrapped a towel around her body, her mind clearer than before.

You were seated in bed, flipping through your phone when she returned. Bear was curled at the foot of the bed. Natasha padded over and slipped into the sheets beside you, her gaze softening as you smiled.

"Can I get a kiss?" Natasha asked.

"Of course," You sighed. Her lips were warm and gentle, and you hummed as she pulled away.

"I'm sorry for arguing with you," Natasha apologized.

"Thank you," You replied. "And I'm sorry for not giving you a straight answer."

"So there is something?"

"It's complicated, Nat," You said. "Lots of NDAs involved. Hollywood stuff. The retreat just isn't our scene."

"Ah," Natasha nodded.

"But it's not because I don't trust you," You explained. "If it were just me, I'd tell you anything."

"Okay," Natasha said softly. "I get that. You're just trying to protect your friends, too. And it's not always a bad thing."

"Thank you," You breathed, leaning into her. "If you want to meet all my friends, Isabella's birthday party is coming. Everyone will be there. You can invite the band."

"I'd like that," Natasha replied, kissing your forehead.

"I'd like to meet the people you care about, too," You suggested.

"Yeah, sure," Natasha nodded. "They'd probably be happy to meet you."

"Your mom and sister?"

"Especially them," Natasha said.

"We could plan a trip," You grinned. "You could show me where you grew up. Your childhood home."

"It's a little far," Natasha said. "Maybe after the tour is over."

"We'll figure it out," You reassured. "Let's sleep now."

"Goodnight," Natasha pecked your lips once more before settling beside you.

**********

The days following your argument were a blur. Between your packed schedules, Natasha's constant commitments, and your work, you barely had time to breathe, let alone sit down and spend time together. Photoshoots, video shoots, press conferences, and fan signings seemed like the whirlwind never stopped. It was overwhelming, but you found comfort in knowing Natasha would be there, even if only for brief moments.

That’s why you decided to go when you got the invite for another mall fan signing. It wasn’t just about being there for Natasha; it was also a way to spend time together in a low-key environment. She could handle the fan interactions, and you could catch up, even if it were just a few minutes in between.

You walked through the mall, maneuvering through the fans eagerly waiting to meet Natasha and the rest of the band. Sharon was already there, chatting with a few of the other band's friends, and she waved you over when she spotted you.

"Hey, glad you made it!" Sharon grinned, giving you a quick hug. "How’s everything going?"

"Not too bad," you shrugged. "Just a lot of stuff."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sharon laughed, shaking her head. "But I'm sure it'll slow down once the album drops next week."

"I hope so," you said, looking at the crowd. "So, what's the plan for today?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," Sharon said, gesturing to the line of fans. "They sign things. Answer a few questions. Fans eat it up, and then we go home."

"Sounds simple enough," You shrugged. "Who's idea was it to do an old-school fan signing?"

"That would be me," Mitch sidled up beside the two of you. She had a smug expression as she watched Bucky sign a teenage girl's autograph book.

"Mitch, you've outdone yourself," You complimented. "I was just telling Sharon how great this is."

"Thanks, hon," Mitch replied, her expression softening as she smiled at you. "I am good at what I do."

"Don't let it get to your head," Sharon joked.

"Oh honey, it's already there," She chuckled.

You enjoyed the fan singing and seeing Natasha interact with the rest of the crew until there was one particular woman. She was dressed in a low-cut top and jeans. It was a simple outfit. You could hear part of the conversation. She was a complete groupie and obsessed with Natasha.

"I love your last album," She said. "I'm Katrina. I want you to sign my breasts if that's alright?"

"That's not what these signings are about," Natasha chuckled nervously.

"I'm sure you've heard it before," Katrina continued. "You're so gorgeous and talented."

"Thank you," Natasha said.

"No, thank you," She gushed, leaning over the table. "You've inspired me."

"That's nice," Natasha grinned.

"I've brought my own Sharpie and everything," Katrina offered. "I know you have a steady hand. You won't slip."

"How about I sign something that won't get me sued," Natasha declined politely. She reached for one of the stock photos of the album cover.

"That's a good one, too," Katrina smiled.

You watched from the corner, secretly elated with how Natasha handled the situation. You were about to walk over when the girl turned the photo, noting a string of hearts on her photo. Natasha waved the girl off and greeted the next person. Surely enough, Katrina flirted with everyone in the band.

Typical groupie behavior. 

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

Another industry party. What a time to be alive. This time, it was for the band. Velvet Rebellion's new album Rebel's Anthem was set to release in precisely two days. The band's single Obvious had peaked at number two. The anticipation for a tour announcement was in the air.

The venue was a warehouse converted into a bar. The party was invited only to friends and family except for a few lucky influencers. As Tony hogged the mic, Natasha stood on the makeshift stage, ready to give a speech. He had pre-gamed before the party. His arm hung loosely around Wanda's shoulder as the woman glared at his heavy-handedness.

"No, seriously, no one works harder than these two," Tony slurred. "Natasha, we'd be nothing without you. I don't think many people understand how hard you work behind the scenes. You're our rock, man. We can't have a band without a rock."

"Get off the mic, Tony," Steve said, gently pulling his friend away.

"Oh, hi, everyone," Bucky said, taking the mic. "This is the part where I make a speech. Thank you for coming to our little gathering. I know our sophomore album is going to knock your socks off. And it's all thanks to Natasha."

"I had a few ideas," Natasha said jokingly.

"You have more than a few," Steve chimed in.

"You're a brilliant lyricist," Wanda added.

"Alright, alright," Natasha chuckled, taking the mic.

"Everyone give it up for Natasha Romanoff!" Tony cheered.

Natasha waved politely as the room erupted in applause.

"Well, this is unexpected," Natasha said, glancing at her speech. "We'll do some of the usual stuff and then have a few drinks. The first round is on us."

The crowd cheered.

"Our second album has been coming along," Natasha continued. "And I want to thank the fans for sticking with us through this journey. We put our blood, sweat, and tears into this album. Many people won't understand the direction we're going. But we have no regrets. We're happy. So, to all of you who support us, thank you."

You glanced at the people gathered around the stage, whispering excitedly. You rolled your eyes as one girl leaned against the edge of the stage, flashing her cleavage toward Natasha.

"Are you guys going to play a song?" A guy asked, his voice loud and demanding. "Live?"

"Maybe," Natasha shrugged. "If we're feeling up to it. For now, have fun and party hard."

The crowd clapped as the music picked up again, and the people slowly drifted back to the center of the room. Natasha hopped off the stage and made her way toward you.

"That was a great speech," You complimented.

"I was a little nervous," Natasha admitted.

"Well, it didn't show," You reassured, taking her hand. "I love you. You look great."

"Thanks," Natasha said. "It's probably this expensive ass jacket you bought me."

"It was nothing,"

"$7,500 being nothing to you will always amaze me," Natasha grinned.

"I wanted to spoil you," You shrugged.

"How sweet," She kissed your cheek. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," You smiled as she walked away.

Natasha was in her element. This was her space. She had her band here. She was surrounded by people who enjoyed her music. She moved around the room, talking and laughing with the guests. Her eyes sparkled as she listened to the conversations. The band chatted and posed for pictures, their excitement contagious. Eventually, Natasha pulled you over to her to be in the pictures.

"I have an amazing girlfriend," Natasha grinned, wrapping her arms around your waist.

"You sure do," You chuckled. "I don't have to be in your pictures. This is for you."

"Please," Natasha pouted. "For me?"

"Okay, but just one," You agreed.

"Thank you," She smiled. "Now, get closer."

You stood against Natasha, her arms tight around your waist, and smiled. The camera flashed.

"You smell good," Natasha whispered into your ear.

"Don't distract me," You teased.

"Can't help it," Natasha kissed your cheek.

The flashes were nonstop.

"Alright, alright," You stepped away, holding your hand up. "Enough. I need a drink."

"Me too," Natasha agreed.

"Let's see how much of this free booze you can drink," You challenged.

"Is that a dare?" Natasha smirked.

"Only if you're brave enough," You challenged.

"Oh, it's on," She grinned.

The two of you approached the bar, ordering the first round. Natasha was determined, and it didn't take long for her to outdrink the rest of the band. Even Bucky, who could hold his liquor well, eventually conceded defeat. This prompted endless dancing to one of their more upbeat songs, The Afterparty Anthem. You danced with Natasha, laughing and cheering her on.

"This is the best night," She shouted over the music.

"It is," You replied. "I'm glad you're having fun."

"You know what would make it better," Natasha smirked. She leaned closer to your ear. "Meet me in the bathroom."

For a moment, your dancing faltered. But the music kept playing. The crowd was thick. You were already having a great time. So why not?

"Fine," You relented.

"Great," Natasha pecked your lips before walking off.

"Hey, where are you going?" Steve asked.

"To freshen up," Natasha called out, disappearing through the crowd.

You followed a few minutes later, casually strolling toward the bathroom.

Natasha was leaning against the counter when you entered.

"What's up?" You asked.

"We're alone," She answered.

"So, what do you have planned?"

"A little bit of this," Natasha cupped your face, her lips touching yours passionately. She pushed you against the door, keeping you right where she wanted. You hummed, your hands falling to her waist.

"We can't do this here," You protested.

"Why not?" Natasha smirked. "We're in the bathroom."

"Nat," You whined as her lips traced along your jaw. "There's too many people here. Someone could walk in."

"That's why you lock the door," She reached behind your head for the lock. "Problem solved."

"I'm not doing this," You insisted.

"Really?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, her hands sliding beneath your dress. "You sure?"

"Positive," You replied.

"Seems like you really want it," Her fingers inched closer to your thigh.

"You're insufferable," You sighed, giving in to her.

"And you love it," She smiled, lifting your dress.

"Shut up," You muttered, kissing her hard. Her fingers slipped under your thong, sliding over your already slick folds. She was quick to tease you, her fingers tracing over your slit.

"God, you're so wet," Natasha groaned, her lips trailing along your neck.

"Stop teasing," You whined.

"Say please," She commanded.

"Fuck you,"

"Be a good girl," Natasha purred. "Just say please, and I'll give you what you want."

"Did you wash your hands?"

"You think so little of me," Natasha laughed. "I'm offended."

"Just checking," You sighed.

"Well, as a matter of fact," Natasha slid her fingers down to your entrance, sinking them deep inside. You gasped, your body responding instantly.

"How's that feel?" Natasha asked.

"Feels good," You replied, your arms winding around her shoulders.

"Want another?" She curled her fingers.

"Yes," You moaned.

"You have to say please," Natasha reminded.

"Please," You whimpered.

"Good girl," Natasha praised, her fingers finding a steady rhythm. She captured your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your moans. Her pace was fast and steady, and your knees grew weak as her fingers pumped into you.

You reached down to grab one of her hands, bringing it to your breast. She palmed you roughly, causing another moan to fall from your lips.

"You gonna cum?" Natasha breathed.

"Yeah," You gasped, arching against her.

"Then do it," Natasha said.

"I can't," You whined.

"You can, and you will," Natasha commanded.

"Faster," You pleaded.

"No," She smirked. "You cum when I say so."

"Nat," You whined the pressure building, threatening to burst.

"Come on, baby," She cooed, lips pressing against your ear. "I know you want to. Cum for me."

You came hard, gasping and shaking as the orgasm ripped through your body. Natasha's fingers didn't stop, working you through every wave of pleasure until the sensation was too much. Your head fell against the door with a thud.

"That's my girl," Natasha purred, kissing you tenderly.

"Fuck," You panted. In the distance, you could hear knocking. You were way too engrossed in Natasha's lips and the pumping she began to do with her fingers inside of you. You were too far gone to realize someone was banging on the door. "Nat, people need to use the bathroom."

"Then they have to wait," She said as she thrust harder into you.

"They're gonna think there's someone fucking in here," You gasped.

"Wouldn't that be scandalous?" Natasha chuckled. She moved to suck your bottom lip into her mouth. She pulled the top of your dress down to expose your breasts. Her thumb skated over your nipple.

"Please, don't do that," You whimpered.

"You sure?" She curled her fingers.

"Yes,"

"You're so beautiful," She complimented, placing another kiss on your lips. "I wanted to play with your pussy all day."

"Not here," You said.

"Why not? Let them hear how much you want it," Natasha kissed you again, swallowing another one of your moans. Her pace increased, her fingers working faster inside of you. "They're gonna know just by the sounds you're making."

"I'm so close," You whimpered.

"Cum for me, baby," She cooed.

You came with a muffled moan, burying your face into the crook of her neck.

"You did such a good job," Natasha praised. It's then you hear the sound of a mic. Someone was making an announcement.

"Velvet Rebellion will be going on tour this summer," Tony's voice echoed through the speakers. " Rebel Tour tickets go on sale next Friday."

"We gotta go," You said.

"We're not done here," Natasha replied, kissing you again.

"We can finish later," You said.

"I don't wanna," Natasha pouted.

"Too bad," You shrugged.

"At least let me fix your dress," She tugged the top of the dress up.

"Thank you," You sighed. "I just fucked a rockstar in a bathroom."

"Was it on your bucket list?" She teased.

"You're a dick," You rolled your eyes.

"But you still love me," Natasha said.

"Indeed I do," You said. It was time to face the music. 

----> next part

[thebaldursmouthgazette]

You didn’t prove anything, because literally ALL of your sources are propaganda that we know to be false propaganda meant to increase the gods’ influence. It would be like arguing Elgar’nan is actually the good guy because all the old tales say he is the loving and benevolent creator god. The old tales do say he is the loving and benevolent creator god, but that’s because the old tales are bullshit propaganda intended to gather worshippers.

Give me one single piece of evidence that it was Mythal who did the ritual (did the ritual. Not that she was involved. Not that it was her idea. Not that she ordered solas to do it. That she, personally, did the ritual), that is not filtered down through several thousand years of “Mythal the protector” propaganda that co existed with several thousand years of dread wolf propaganda. I’ll save you a trawl through the wiki: there isn’t any. You’ve proved nothing, because you don’t understand what your sources are. You don’t understand you are citing false propaganda written by an unreliable narrator. It’s not supposed to be read as historically accurate, yet you’re treating it like the absolute truth.

My evidence?

1) The initial memory: Solas says “it is awful, what we’re doing”. The dagger is created, but his job does not end there. He is not just giving the dagger to Mythal, he is continuing with the task of sundering the titans

2) the discussion: after the first memory, Emmrich mentions that they have all “experienced a memory”. While the player sees a shot of the mural and hears spoken dialogue, the actual characters have experienced the memory. Experienced Solas’ memory. So when they go on to discuss that solas did the actual sundering like it’s established fact, that is because it is. They’ve actually experienced the memory and do not need to dissect the specific wording. They actually know that solas went on to do the ritual.

3) Solas’ guilt: one of the revenants we see is the “slaughter of the pillars”, the pillars being the titans. The other two revenants are “betrayal of Felassan”, representing Solas murdering Felassan in his sleep, and “fall of the protector”, referencing solas killing Mythal at the end of inquisition. These two revenants are both direct actions that solas took. He did not get someone else to kill those people, he killed them with his own hands. The slaughter of the pillars revenant is the same. It would not make sense for this guilt to hold such a high place, among those he had killed with his own hands, had he not also sundered the titans with his own hands.

4) Solas’ reaction to being accused: during the banters before the final battle, Davrin and Harding both confront him for sundering the titans and causing the blight. He does not make excuses, as he almost always does. He does not find a loophole, as he almost always does. He does not find a way where he is technically not to blame, as he almost always does. If he had simply made the dagger and given it to Mythal, with the warning that she should not go through with her plan, he would mention it. He consistently takes any and every opportunity to make excuses for himself. This is one of the major parts of the plot, it is a major part of why he is unable to leave the regret prison. He finds any excuse he can to lessen his responsibility for his actions. If there was such an obvious way for him to do so, he would take it. He doesn’t, because it does not exist. Because he did not simply give the dagger to Mythal and advise against using it, he is the one who performed the ritual. And as it is, instead of trying to find, as neve puts it, “a pretty excuse”, he practically admits it.

5) yes, the art book: if it was just the art book alone then no, that would not be enough evidence. But it’s not the art book alone, and, importantly, I am not using the art book as a piece of canon. I am using it as proof that that was the writers intentions at least at some point in the process. There was a point, in the creation of veilguard, where they were intending for Solas to have been the one to do the ritual. And this was the case so late into production, that the art book was printed with that as fact. Even if they changed their mind, it shows that none of the sources from the previous games contradict solas being the one to have done the ritual, because at the very least it would be lore compatible for it to be solas, and more likely it would be because that was the plan in the pretty well planned out lore the entire time. And that they would have had to change their mind, because Mythal was not the original intention. With this insight into the production process in mind, it becomes clear that everything I have mentioned was written with the understanding that it was solas who did the ritual. Given that they wrote a lot of stuff pointing to it being solas, because the intention was that it was solas, and left it in the game and didn’t put anything in to suggest that it wasn’t solas, it stands to reason that that is because it was solas. They didn’t change it. It was solas.

You know in retrospect sundermount is a hell of a name for a mountain

[gloomskulls]

LIMERENCE PT 2 [tasm!peter parker x reader

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 1

warning(s): dub/non consensual (reader is drunk and drunk people cannot give consent), terribly written smut (i'm a virgin i'm sorry, I have no idea what goes on actually in the bed), oral (fem receiving), drinking, drunk reader, overstimulation, everyone is 18+ here lemme know if I missed any

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: I'm sorry this took a whole ass while, it's probs 90% story and 10% smut. Like it's probs shit, the smut's the reason why I couldn't finish this sooner because I had no idea where it was going. Also tried to write 2012 slang, idk if it even sounds right. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else I'm going to turn you into Victoria Heyes from terrifier ❤️🫶/srs

Peter shuffled in his sleep. Tossing and turning. Sleep never found him, how could it? He did something so unforgivable. Having an obsession with someone who barely acknowledges your existence is one thing, but sneaking into her house, completely crossing every single line, and then jerking off to the scent of your panties while imagining you on top of him, riding him as you creamed his cock with your cum.

The air felt heavy and there was an almost stifling silence in his small bedroom, while his mind worked in the manner of a broken machine, looping thoughts.

Every single thing about you — your laugh, the spark in your eyes when you spoke of something you loved, the way you uttered his name — his mind kept replaying like a broken record. Each one felt as fresh as if it had just taken place a moment ago, and each one pulled at something deep within his chest.

He had spent years arguing with himself about what he was doing. He told himself that viewing you from a distance was merely innocent fascination, a little crush. But that had been a lie. What he had done the night before, sneaking into your room was not a mistake; it was a deliberate decision.

Peter was filled with doubts, a regular person would call him lovesick, a creep even. Is she really worth it? Peter admits something he'd been avoiding for a while.

He wanted you.

Not as a classmate. Not as a partner for a stupid project. He wanted you in a way that was raw and desperate and consuming. Oh, he wanted you to look at him the way you look at the rest of the world with trust, with affection, with the same ease that made you laugh at his dumb jokes.

The realization hit him hard. The weight of it sank into his chest like a boulder, but there was a rush of something else too-something darker, more intoxicating.

Peter sat up abruptly, there's only one way or another, heart hammering as he snatched up his phone. Tapping out a quick message, he did so with trembling hands.

"Hey, u free 2nite? Was thinkin maybe we could finish the proj & grab dinner after. My treat. :)"

He stared at the screen, his thumb hovered over the send button. The fear crept back in, whispering in the back of his mind. What if she thought he was crazy? What if she rejected me outright? What if everything he'd built up in his head came crashing down?

Many thoughts crowded his mind, neither of them was good

As he stared at the text, his finger quivered. His stomach tightening in knots. The reply was already forming in his mind—would you say yes? Or perhaps he was weird for asking, for suggesting anything other than school?

But what if he didn't ask? What if he kept on pretending that this crush wasn't eating him up from the inside?

I've got to do this; he tried to steady his breath. This would never come again.

Deep breath and then Peter clicked "send."

Time seemed to stretch into eternity. His mind was racing, spinning out into the worst-case scenarios. You could just say no or even laugh it off and tell him it wasn't a good idea. It's a biology project, after all. That's what it was supposed to be—right?

That crumbled page of biology scraps lay on his desk as evidence of the project you both were working on. It was supposed to be a simple collaboration, probably will last for a few weeks if he was lucky, and then he'd just go back to being invisible to you.

But he didn't want to go back to being invisible.

He sat there at the edge of the bed, hunched over in an awkward position, his elbows rested on the stretched knees, and he stared his phone, convinced that at any moment it would leave his grip. He had typed the message, the own words glowing brighter as he waited.

He had redone it like at least a dozen times, but all versions felt way too casual to too formal. His current message was just right; friendly, innocent enough but still an invite.

What if you think it is strange? What if you don't even reply at all?

He shook his head to stabilize his breathing. It's alright, he told himself. His not asking for something crazy. It's only a dinner.

But it wasn't just a dinner. It was the convergence of years of quiet yearning, stolen glances, and missed opportunities. This was the first real step toward something more, if only he could find the courage to take it.

He shunned his phone flat on the bed thinking that might ease the tension in his chest, but it didn't. His heart raced as seconds ticked by on the clock, each second feeling like an eternally long wait.

What if you didn't reply?

What if you did?

His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as his phone buzzed.

He grabbed it with trembling hands.

"Sure! I'm totally in. Where r we meeting? 7?"

He read the message over and over again: You're saying yes. Relief was an actual weight that was just lifted as disbelief flooded him as he blinked at the screen, rereading the message to make sure it hadn't been imagined.

For a moment, he allowed himself to smile, but it quickly disappeared. Now that he got the answer, a different kind of panic struck.

What happens next?

"Yea 7’s cool, I’ll pick u up @ ur place"

He looked up at the clock-6:30. In thirty minutes, he needed to get ready. Thirty minutes within which he needed to figure out how not to screw this one up completely.

Peter fell out of his chair and quickly rifled through his closet for something fresh and unique that didn't look like it had just been thrown on five minutes ago. His room was strung out in a mess of hoodies and T-shirts that didn't do any good as he tried on piece after piece-each feeling wrong.

"Relax," he murmured at himself while gazing at his reflection in the mirror. Hi hair looked like he just crawled out from under the bed, his face was red, and no matter how many adjustments he attempted on the clothes, he still looked like the awkward kid he'd always been.

Peter raced around his pod-sized room in search of a shirt that didn't scream "high school loser." The bed was a battlefield littered with crumpled hoodies, a checkered flannel, even his Midtown Science Academy T-shirt.

"Peter?" Aunt May's curious sounding voice called out from the hallway.

"Yeah?" he shouted back while looking through his closet and listening.

"Why does it sound like a tornado hit your room? Are you okay in there?"

Peter groaned and threw another hoodie onto the pile he was amassing on the bed. "I'm fine!"

The creaky door slammed open a moment later, and Aunt May peeked her head in. Her sharp eyes traveled the disaster area that was his room, from the piles of clothes, and even down to the one sneaker he was wearing.

"Uh-huh. Fine." She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "What's all this about? A wardrobe crisis?"

He sighed at her and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing serious, okay? I just… I'm going out."

May raised an eyebrow as her lips twitched as if trying hard not to smile. "Going out? As in… on a date?"

"What? No!" Peter's voice shot up as he spun around, waving his hands. "It's not a date! It's just dinner. For a project. With a friend."

By now, she wasn't even trying to hide her grin. "A 'friend,' huh? Is this the same 'friend' you've been talking about nonstop since this biology project started?"

"I don't talk about her nonstop!" protested Peter, turning into a shade of tomato. "Oh, you definitely do," Uncle Ben countered from outside the hallway and into the room, sporting the knowing smirk of someone who has heard too much. "Half the time, it's, 'Oh, she's so smart,' and the other half is, 'She's so good at this lab thing.'" He said with a dreamy tone

"Okay, okay, so I get it!" he groaned while burying his face in his hands. "Can we not do this now?"

Ben laughed and slapped Peter on the shoulder. “Relax, kid. We are just teasing, and you've got this.”

May walked into the room and picked up one of the forgotten shirts from the bed. Holding it up, she said, "What is wrong with this? Nice but casual, not slobby."

Peter squinted at it. "It's too—I don't know; plain?"

"Plain is better than looking as if you are trying too hard," she said, tossing it to him.

Uncle Ben nodded sagely. "It's right." "You don't want to go full tuxedo on a first—uh, not a date," he added quickly, holding up his hands when Peter glared at him.

Peter huffed but pulled the shirt over his head anyway. "You two are the worst," he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

May smiled and reached out, smoothing the collar of his shirt. "We are not the worst. We are just proud of you. It's good to see you putting yourself out there."

"I'm not—," Peter began, but Ben cut him off.

"You are," Ben said firmly. "That's a good thing. Just be yourself, Pete. If she's as great as you say she is, she'll see what we see, a smart, kind, slightly awkward but very lovable kid."

Peter's face burned. "Yea, you really know how to give a pep talk."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Ben fired back with a grin.

May handed Peter his second sneaker. "Here. Don't forget this, unless you're planning to really impress her with your one-shoe look."

Peter rolled his eyes but could not quite hide the grin that crept onto his lips. "Thanks, Aunt May."

So Ben called after him as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "And remember, kid—Italian places usually give you breadsticks first. Don't fill up before the main course!"

Peter groaned loudly. "I'm going now! Bye!"

He was there, at your door, heart pounding heavily, as if wanting to burst out from the body. He lingered for a while, staring at the doorbell.

What if this is a mistake?

But before you could think otherwise, the button pressed his finger.

And then echoed the sound of the bell from inside, and Peter felt that the earth would open up and swallow him whole in an instance. He heard footsteps, and then the door opened.

There you were.

"Hey, Peter!" you said, smiling that effortless way that made his breath catch in his throat, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. "You're right on time, I just need a minute to grab my bag."

Peter managed a small smile and stepped in, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. "Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need."

You disappeared into another room, leaving Peter hanging awkwardly at your door, his eyes darting about. It was a very warm and inviting house, in harmony with the kind of person you were. The faint hum of a television in another room was muffled, someone talking, and he could hear that easily.

Your presence returned with your bag slung around your shoulder and you ignited the nerves again in Peter.

“So,” you said, smiling at him, “where to?”

Peter hesitated just a beat too long, his mind scrambling to come up with an answer. "Uh, I was thinking Italian? That okay with you?"

"Italian sounds great," you said easily as your smile widened.

Peter's heart raced as you stepped out the door, walking beside him toward the small restaurant a few blocks away. The night air was crisp, and for the first few minutes, he was too caught up in his own head to say much. But then you started talking, asking him about his day, about the project, and the sound of your voice eased some of his tension.

You made him feel like he belonged, even without having a word to say.

When the restaurant came in sight, Peter turned to you. Nerves still there but mixed with something else: a quiet and hopeful excitement.

Maybe just maybe, tonight will be the beginning of something real.

The walk to the restaurant was such a nerve-racking experience. Each step Peter Parker took beside you felt like a step closer to something he wasn't ready (or was actually hoping for). His hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, fingers curling and uncurling, while trying to keep steady pacing alongside you.

But you appeared to be at full ease. You talked about the cool evening, how the trees' leaves were beginning to rustle with the cold wind blowing, and even the faint smell of roasting chestnuts from a street vendor a few blocks away. Peter heard everything, nodded, and punctuated things now and then with the occasional "Yeah" or "Totally," but as for his thoughts, they were running wild within him.

This is well. This is the standard. This is alright, He didn't over hypothesize for the hundredth time.

As much as there was relief in now having something solid to focus on, Peter was panicked that it all became real at that moment.

He opened the door for you, his hand trembling slightly as he held it.

"Thanks," you said, giving him a swift smile before stepping inside.

"Uh, yeah. Of course," Peter mumbled as he hung his head and followed you in.

The hostess took you to a corner besides the glass window, a cozy little spot with a flickering candle in the middle of the table. Peter's hands trembled as he took the chair and gestured you to sit on it.

The menu in front of him could be in another language as he stared dumbly at it, words bringing into a blur while the thoughts buzzing in his head were getting harder to put to rest.

Don't be weird. Just be normal. What does "normal" even mean? Stop overthinking! You've got this!

"This place is nice," you commented as you scanned the menu. "How did you discover it?"

"Oh, um, my aunt used to like it here," Peter said, grateful he could answer such a question. "She says the lasagna is the best."

You grinned. "Aunt May has good taste. I will try that."

He nodded, yes, but could not stop the rush of nervous thoughts flooding his mind. He glanced at the menu as if studying it although he already knew what he would order. But his mind was instead filled with every possible thing he could screw up tonight.

Don't talk too much; don't laugh strangely; don't look like an idiot.

Here came the waiter, and you ordered effortlessly, laced with a polite smile as you handed him the menu. Peter stammered out his order and felt his palms sweat as he gave it. When the waiter walked away, Peter could feel your eyes on him, and it took everything he had to meet your gaze.

"So," you said, leaning in with elbows planted on the table, chin cradled in palm, "what's your thing, Peter?"

"My thing?" he said, taken aback. "Like, my thing?"

"Yeah, like… what do you do for fun? What are you really into doing when absolutely no one else is watching and judging?"

Peter blinked, trying to think of something that wouldn't sound lame. "Uh, well, I like photography," he said. "And science, I guess. Experiments, stuff like that."

You perked up. "Photography? That is cool. What kind of pictures do you take?"

"Mostly city stuff," he said, his voice gaining a bit of confidence. "You know, like weird angles, shadows, reflections. It's probably not that interesting to most people."

"I think it sounds interesting," you said. "I would love to see your pictures sometime."

Peter's heart was pounding so hard. "Really? Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you want."

That made the conversation flow more easily. You told him about your love-hate relationship with math, how sometimes you spent too long procrastinating by watching cooking shows instead of doing your homework, and how one time you tried to make crème brûlée and almost burned your stove.

“I had to open every window in the house,” you said, laughing. “My mom came home and thought I’d burned dinner. I didn’t tell her it was supposed to be dessert.”

Peter grinned, feeling just a little bit more at ease. “Maybe stick to cookies next time, huh?”

“Noted,” you said with a mock-serious nod.

Then it was time to eat. You both started digging into it while still keeping up your conversation. Peter quickly found himself becoming much more relaxed, finding it absolutely easy to talk to you when he didn't over-analyze every word. You burst into laughter each time his jokes finished, and whenever his eye fell into yours, everything around faded.

There was little doubt that he was doing this because he was desperate enough to strike a topic that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot; this was the reason why he asked, "You, uh, good with the whole project?"

You leaned back, fiddled with the napkin on the table, and said, "Yeah, it's actually been fun. Well, I mean, we work well together, and you're much smarter than I had thought."

Peter blinked. "Wait, you thought I wasn't smart?"

"No, I just-" You smirk, it's clear you're enjoying his reaction. "You always seem kinda… busy with stuff, you know? You're not exactly the loudest guy in the room."

"Well, I, uh…" Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm, uh, more of a behind-the-scenes guy. You know, less talk, more… action?"

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Peter felt himself get a little more relaxed. Maybe you weren't judging him.

'This place have wine?' you ask all of a sudden, not looking up from the menu.

Peter blinked. "Uh… I think so?"

You smirked and put your feet up on the table after throwing the menu on it. "Perfect. I could use a glass."

Peter was at a loss on how he should respond. It just didn't seem like the kind of person who would order wine to go with dinner-at least, not in his limited and admittedly romanticized view of you. But when the waiter came by, you ordered an entire bottle without hesitating, barely glancing at Peter for confirmation.

"Um, yeah, sounds good," Peter said weakly, even though the thought of drinking anything stronger than soda made him nervous.

The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in an awkward silence.

But the waiter was back again, this time with a bottle and two glasses, which he laid down with a polite smile. And before you knew it, the deep red liquid was already swirling around in your glass because you had poured it in haste from the bottle.

Want some? You asked, already halfway through your first sip.

“Uh, maybe later,” Peter said.

You shrugged and took another long drink before putting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Suit yourself.”

The most casual kind of conversation developed between you: you asked Peter about what he was interested in, and he managed to stumble along throwing together great lengthy descriptions about why he loved photography and science, and the words came out too fast for him to think them. It almost seemed like you were listening to him, however, because he went on to nod before even asking follow-up questions, which made him for the first time in a long time feel that he wasn't entirely invisible.

By that time, he was becoming aware, as the hours slipped away, that you were filling up your glass more and more often. The bottle was now half empty when the food came, and you were already sporting rosy cheeks when the alcohol was pouring into your system.

“This is good,” you said, hardly bothering with your plate in order to gesture with your fork at it. "I mean, really good. Good call, Parker.”

The smile that appeared on Peter's face was that of nervousness. "Thanks. I'm glad you like it."

Now you leaned back in your seat, holding your glass up to the light. "You know, I don't really do stuff like this. I've kind of never had dinner with classmates. It's just a little… weird, you know?"

Peter sank a little. "Weird, how?"

"Not bad weird," you said immediately by waving your hand. "Just… different. Like, generally, I would just be at home watching some lousy reality show and trying to forget how much homework I have to do."

Peter chuckled, even though he had no idea what to say next.

After a sip of wine, the boy looked up at Peter who immediately landed his gaze upon the bottle. You seem well into your first glass with a heightening sense of ease that you appeared to be at his home. Maybe it was because of the wine or perhaps how you were looking at him right now-not with judging spectatorship but with a strange kind of understanding that made him feel as if he were not really out of place.

It was only a count of seconds before the food arrived while you already had a second glass in hand. Peter's stomach flipped at that moment. This wasn't the way he was used to seeing you, all loosened up and speaking without that slight guard he usually saw when you were around. You appeared different tonight, and Peter couldn't quite figure it out if it was a good thing or not.

However, the conversation was still going on, only that as soon as you took a few more drinks, conversations shifted to more profound, much more personal things. Laughter spilled from your lips more freely, although Peter saw that smiles were now somewhat uncontrollable. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was just the ambience. In any case, he could feel something shifting, like you were letting him see this version of yourself you weren't sure he was supposed to see.

"Peter", you said, looking at him with wide eyes after a long sip. "What's your big dream? Like 20 years from now, what do you see yourself doing?"

He shifted around uneasily on his chair. And that question was sudden, a little more intense than he would have reckoned it to be. He was not used to being asked about his future like this.

"Honestly?" said Peter, leaning back a little and looking down at the half-finished plate in front of him. "I don't really know. I think- I think I want to do something with science, or photography. Maybe combine. Don't know really. Just like, I want to fix things, you know? Help make the world a little less broken.''

You were quiet for a moment, and Peter wasn't sure whether it was because he'd said something wrong or whether you were just thinking. But when you finally spoke, your voice was softer, almost quieter than before.

"I think that's really admirable, Peter."

That was it. That one simple sentence hit him harder than he expected. He wasn't used to compliments like that- not from you, not from anyone. The words were a strange dream, and for a second he just looked dumbfoundedly at you trying to really understand what you mean.

Peter had never imagined the night to go this way. Not even in a million years. But here he was, walking alongside you, swaying slightly on the sidewalk with less steadiness in your step than before. Surprisingly, the wine had hit you faster than he figured, and he wasn't so sure if he should be concerned or just chalk it up to the kind of night it had turned into.

"Hey, I'm-" You hiccupped, laughing lightly at your own clumsiness. "I'm fine, Peter. Really."

But Peter wasn't so sure. His instincts were whipping him into overdrive-the same ones that always made him want to leap into action when something was amiss. "Yeah, I don't think you are," he said, trying to keep it light. "Let me just walk you home, okay? Just to make sure you're good."

But you rolled your eyes, with an almost sheepish smile you gave in, "Fine, fine. I get it. You're worried about me."

"Yeah, I am," Peter said, his voice a little quieter than he intended. "But you're my responsibility right now, okay?"

You exhale a small laugh, and Peter can't help but take note of how completely giddy it sounded, a little like you weren't quite sure where you were or what you were doing. You leaned against him, and then Peter was surprised at how easily you let him help you with that.

The way home was otherwise silent except for the occasional trip and the muttered apologies from you. But Peter didn't mind it, sensing closeness, although strange. Everything was just weird tonight. The brushing of your hand against his as you reached for your keys. That laugh of yours that wouldn't leave his ears. The vulnerability you seemed to wear in your eyes at that moment.

So, then you reached your door, and you suddenly stopped and stood there, fumbling with the keys in your hand. Peter moved closer but silently offered to help. You shook your head.

"I've got this," you said, though your words were slurring just enough for Peter to catch the uncertainty behind them.

After much effort on your part, the door finally opened. You leaned in again, and Peter nearly lost his heart as he had to rush forward to steady you.

"Whoa, take it easy," Peter said catching you as you stumbled. "Let me help you."

You smiled up at him, glassy and unfocused. "I'm fine, Peter," you slurred. "Just a little…tipsy."

Peter chuckled and guided you up the walkway to your front door. "Tipsy, huh? Well, let's get you inside and safe, then."

As you both reached the front door, you fumbled with your keys and Peter had to gently take them from your hand and unlock the door himself. You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

After some time and a couple of tries, she got the door opened.

"Okay, inside," he said, his tone a little more powerful now. You did not resist him as he helped you through the door, but there was a strange sadness in your eyes that twisted Peter's stomach.

You moved slowly to the couch and finally sank down on it; the wine was exhausting. Peter stood near the door for a moment, wondering his next move. He wanted to shoot his shot, his thoughts wandered to somethings more inappropriate. Wasn't this all about getting you safe? Ensuring you did not end up passed out somewhere in a big, messy pile of sheets and regrets.

"Can you just… stay for a bit?" you asked quietly, with barely a whisper.

Peter hesitated. He didn't want to go too far, and he couldn't just leave you here, not looking so…fragile.

"Yes," he spoke softly, entering then into the living room. "I'll stay for a bit"

You nodded at him, gazing at him with tired eyes. "Thank you."

Peter perched on the edge of the couch; his hands awkwardly balanced on his knees. What a strange space there was between you two now, strange in that it was so very close, yet so far away. He wanted to be of some use and ensure you were okay, and yet the way the glance kept coming from you in that direction somehow felt… off. It was like walking on a fine line.

Peter looked at you longingly, you were so beautiful.

Too close and too perfect, he found himself sitting next to you, and Peter felt the pressure of so many things left uncommunicated fill his chest. He needed to do it. He needed to say it.

"Peter?" Your voice was a soft whisper, a little uncertain. Wine had aided this whole relaxing process, yet made almost everything feel slightly out of focus.

Peter swallowed, heart pounding in the chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the alcohol that has found narrate in your system, or if it was the raw honesty of the moment, but he knew very well it was now or never, the one chance to say all he had kept bottled up for months.

"Yeah?" he whispered, getting closer so that he was almost against you now.

"It's just that, I… I'm sorry if I've been too much tonight," you said, your words slightly slurring as you allowed your gaze to drift over his face. "I didn't mean to get that drunk."

Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. He could feel his palms sweating, his heart racing faster than ever. "I just… I just want to make sure you're okay."

You smiled up at him, but it was a little foggy, and Peter could tell that the wine had dulled your clarity. Still, you were so beautiful, standing there, looking at him with those eyes—eyes that made him feel like he mattered.

Peter took a sharp breath and let a sudden breath of air come out. It was as if a magnet was pulling them together, and he was drawn to it. "So, uh– I was thinking…" He hesitated for a moment, then recovered his composure, trying to calm the trembling in his hands. "I've been thinking about you for a long time. Like, longer than I should have."

His brows knitted further in confusion as Peter quickly realized that the rest of the sentence was failing miserably in getting through your mind, as if the actual words were swimming around in it, suspended in fog. He stepped closer, unable to stop himself.

"If I—" He let out a shaky breath. "You know, I've been loving you for so long now. And tonight, I couldn't hold it anymore and just… broke the dam."

Your expression shifted slightly. Confusion clouded your gaze. You blinked, trying to piece together his words. "Wait, what?"

Peter took a step closer, completely incapable of holding himself back. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he felt the heat between you intensify. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your arm. "I love you," he whispered again, barely able to breathe. "I love you so much, and I've been too scared to say it. I've watched you for so long, and I—" Peter stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, eyes looking like a lost puppy.

"You're so beautiful, so so beautiful" He leaned in, your face was so close to him, his lips brushed against yours. He held your face as he licked your lips.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin with just the proximity of Peter's face to yours, and the goosebumps it sent down your spine. Those eyes were filled deeply with a longing expression and captured yours as if drowning you in its depths. There was air that quite vibrated between the two of you, and the heat that seemed to take form could even be felt emanating from his body.

"I wanted to do that for so long," Peter whispered. His voice shuddered with desire. Gentle words falling like a caress to send shivers through you: "Wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss."

His lips brushed against yours when he spoke, making your body spark with electricity. You were pretty much melting into him, as if his very desire were consuming your human body. His lips, soft and gentle, just as firm and insistent. You tasted like wine.

"You're so beautiful" he said as his hands went underneath your dress, his hands inching close to your under garments. He touched your clothed core; he used his index finger to rub your clothed cover clit

You squirmed in his touch, "P-peter" You mewled in his mouth

This just seemed to fuel Peter even more, as he set aside your panties as his smooth fingers rubbed your now exposed core. Peter looked at you, he slowly kneeled as he spread your legs.

He looked at your wet core, as if it was a painting that he couldn't understand. Without warning he then sucked your glistening pearl; his tongue probed the inside of your gummy walls as his fingers rubbed your pearl. You cried out, your body arching up to meet him, and Peter felt a surge of excitement. He was in control now, and you were at his mercy.

He knew it was wrong, you were drunk after all, but he couldn't help it, this was his only chance.

He licked and sucked at your clit, his fingers plunging in and out of your dripping wet pussy, you cried out in ecstasy, your hands tugging at Peter's hair. But he didn't care, all he cared about was your dripping we cunt.

Anticipation dwells in the coiling mouth against your body, sending shivers along your spine. Every inch of you is lulled into stimulation by his gentle probing, drawing near to a soon-to-be-hidden insistent demand. You can feel that hot air glazing across your skin, soft scraping with teeth, and relentless pressure from his lips, all of which accompanies his tongue.

Your hands are clenched while he works, fingers digging into the sheets or perhaps his hair, holding him there. Your hips jerk primitively, as though to push him deeper and encourage more pressure, while your breathing makes raspy sounds mixed with soft mewls of pleasure.

One hand is busy at your hips, molding you solidly into place, while the other slips only up over the curve of your waist before settling over your breast.

You feel yourself immersing in the sensation as your focus is honed into one. The only critical thing is the feeling of his mouth on you. The whole room begins to fade away, and you're left with only the slushing wet sounds he makes and your breathless gasps, groans, and cries.

Peter on the other hand felt like he was in cloud nine, his mouth was now fully covered in your arousal, but he didn't care. He continued lapping at your cunt, accompanied with his middle finger thrusting in and out of you.

As the intensity rises, so do your frantic movements: the hips jerk and thrust as though reaching toward some ill-defined height. His mouth is a scythe-like blur of tongue lashing and probing until the pressure builds and you're all quivering trembling muscles, precariously balanced on a knife edge of release.

Your mouth is wide open, frozen in a silent scream on your lips, and your entire body starts quivering at the moment of release.

Then silence engulfs the outside world; its only inhabitants are trapped in a silent world of raw lust. His mouth is a furnace, raging, and threatening to engulf you completely, but you lean into the flames, thirsty for the intense heat that only he can provide. Your skin is slick with sweat, your heart thundering like a runaway train as your body builds toward the inevitable climax.

Your cries intensify as tension rises, a mournful cry into this frantic air, a scream savage, echoing off the walls as your body strains towards that release. Your muscles quivering.

Before you knew it, it almost hit you like rough wave of pleasure.

His cock twitched, his balls tightening with anticipation, as he felt the warmth of her your release in his mouth. That alone could make him cum his pants. He had never been this close to a woman before, and the thought of exploring your body was almost too much to bear. And here he was doing exactly just that.

You were beautiful to Peter, but you looked ungodly when you were in a state of release. The way your chest would heave up and down, how your mascara was running down your eyes, and your lipstick smudged on the side of your face.

"You're so beautiful" he said, barely even above a whisper.

"P-peter— OH MY GOD!"

He suddenly took a long slow stripe of your pussy, as if savoring everything, but then stopped when his tongue reached your clit. He sucked on your little pearl as if it was lollipop.

You moaned loudly as your back arched and your toes curled, "P-peter" You whimpered

The way he was sucking on your clit, along with his fingers that was thrusting deep inside you. It made it nearly unbearable. The last few moments or so almost sent you spiraling into one of those severe orgasms that made you see stars on your ceiling.

Loud moans slipped from your mouth, you wondered if your parents were at home, what if they see their sweet girl falling apart underneath the so-called weird kid of your school.

Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to ease the bittersweet pleasure he was giving you. "P-peter, oh god, stop, I c-can't take it anymore" you begged in a voice very nearly a whisper. Body trembling, your hands reached instinctively for his hair, holding him.

He continued his performance on your clit. A familiar knot kept building inside you. Suddenly, the moans turned into loud gasps, and your body began to shake uncontrollably. P-peter, I…I think I'm going to come again" you finally whisper. To that, he only sucked harder, licked harder, his fingers falling on a rhythm with his tongue swirling relentlessly on your sensitive spot, bringing you to sweet agony. Your back arched up, you gasp while screaming, "P-PETER!"

Heaving and shaking with each pulsing moan, you lay there with your body's hypersensitivity after such intense pleasure receding. Finally, Peter raised his head. That satisfied smile on his face was testimony to your ability to elicit such feelings from him. And with his eyes, he stared at you, every flicker of lust speaking volumes about what was crossing his mind. Then he kissed near the center of time in your inner thigh, his lips dragging softly, and then moving to lie with you at the side of the couch

Peter's smile slowly faded as he noticed your catch of breath, replaced with a show of real concern. He stroked your hair as he gazed into your eyes. "That was intense," Peter said. "You're shaking." His voice was tender, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "Time to get you to bed, all right?"

He managed a slowly rise from the couch while extending his hand forward towards you. You grasped onto it and found your balance shaky; nonetheless, Peter assisted you toward leaving the living room, down the hallway, and into your bedroom.

Peter opened your door slowly, revealing the bedroom from that night. Snap out of your thoughts Parker!

The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room. Peter placed you carefully at the edge of the bed. He knelt down to remove your shoes and started undressing you slowly and carefully. He threw the covers over you as you laid back in bed, tucking you in like a young child.

"Rest," he whispered as he brushed his lips against your forehead. "Sleep, I'll be here when you wake." He sat beside you, stroking your hair with his hand. Your eyelids began to feel heavier, and weariness, along with all the forms of pleasure, finally overtook you. Peter was the last person you remember as you slipped into slumber, where upon you felt the warmth beside you that offered the source of a much-needed sense of safety.

@gloomskulls 2024, DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE OF MY WORKS IN ANY OTHER WEBSITE. Photos don't belong to me

[supersexynerd]

“Can I be alone with you?”

Student!Nanami x Classmate!Reader

Summary; you always felt overwhelmed in the energised fast paced hang outs with the people of your year. Finding solace in a quiet part of the schools library, when someone finds you; someone who understands more than you might realise.

Warnings; fluff and that’s pretty much it, platonic but theres something forming

Currently not proofread

Joining Jujutsu High was probably one of the best things that had happened in your life. Life at home in the Zenin clan only came with imense pressure and never really feeling like you belonged anyways.

Here however; you had made amazing friends who you can be yourself around and focus on becoming a better sorcerer without the callouse critiquing from your elders.

As much as you loved your friends though there was one thing which still made you feel a little detached from them. While a lot of them always seemed filled to the brim with social energy (cough cough Gojo) you never had such a high social battery. Even Shoko who complains about the erratic white haired man still had a spring in her step to the Friday night hangouts that you often tried to avoid; it was by no means an insult to them you loved your friends! Just not necessarily the amount of overwhelming noise and stimulus that comes with hanging around with them- especially after a long week of schoolwork and missions.

So this is how you very happily spent your Friday night. Sat in the peace of the library on one of the sofas, book in hand with headphones in and some snack you ad been craving that day. You found the library a lot more peaceful than your own room, unlucky for you you shared a wall with the communal space in the dormitories that was the source of current events. No the quiet small dormitory Library downstairs suited you just fine.

“What are you doing here?” a monotone voice broke your concentration, causing you to startle looking up to see your tall emo looking friend.

Shuffling in the sofa to sit straight, you eyed him cautiously. Nanami is usually in the communal area talking with Haibara, how did he find you here? Was he even looking?

“It’s nothing on you guys, I just prefer a more… quiet way to unwind after a long week.” You admitted, face turning a little red as you closed your book, using a photo of you and Shoko as a bookmark.

Nanami sat down next to you, huffing “Gojo can be a bit too much on times can’t he?” he said seeing the subcontext of your explanation. In all honesty that was what drew Nanami to come find you. He was simply too tired to deal with Satoru’s immense bundles of energy despite every one of you getting ran through with missions and extra hard lessons this week. He always wondered where you went off, despite his universal expression making it seem like seeing you was simply a coincidence.

Nanami always took a liking to you. The way your snarky quips were the only thing to make Satoru shut up when he went on one of his stupid tangents. How you could outsmart Geto and always knew how to cheer Shoko up when she felt bad about her quirk being more on the utility side.

Not to mention you’re beauty but Nanami would never admit he thought of that.

“You like horror?” Nanami tried striking up conversation prodding at the scary looking cover of the book.

You just chuckled, rubbing your tired eyes from reading so much. “Don’t act like it’s something revolutionary” your usual sarcastic demeanour shining through your kind smile. “It’s actually really good” you looked over to the cover again, “it’s a four part series, I’m only on the first book, started it tonight actually”

Nanami let a small smile listening to you, not wanting you to stop talking, he asked for you to tell him more about what it was about.” Small red heat blanketing his cheeks as your eyes lit up with excitement, telling Nanami every detail of how you don’t entirely like one of the characters, you’re in love with one (who’s description seemed a little too close to himself), and how you were biting your nails all night at how on edge the book was.

It felt nice, you rarely had people to talk about this sort of thing with. Shoko refuses to listen about or watch anything horror as it scared the crap out of her. It was refreshing to have someone want to listen to you rant endlessly about different aspects.

You hadn’t meant to talk for so long, honestly you hadn’t, you were so carried away in your ramblings you saw your phone flash 11:43PM.

“I am so sorry!” You tried apologising profusely but Nanami just waved it off.

“Don’t be. I’ve enjoyed listening to you.” and you realise this whole time he’s been smiling, something you did not see often, especally not tis genuine. “On saying that though we should head back to our rooms.”

He was right and you knew it. You stood up wrapping your blanket over your shoulders as the pair of you walked back, sharing a comfortable silence only broken by soft yawns from both of you.

Another week had gone by, you couldn’t help but think about the evening when Nanami found you. It was a nice thing for someone to do, and you’d be lying if saying talking about your latest obsession didn’t make you feel giddy.

Another Friday night, another sofa that was taken by only you yet for the first time you felt a little sad it was just you. You shook it off, it was a once time thing, but then something catches your gaze as you get comfy under the blanket.

It was Nanami, in comfy clothes and glasses which he usually only wore during lesson.

“I know you like being alone, I was just wondering… Can I be alone with you?” Nanami said walking up to you nervously, hand massaging the back of his neck. Peering at his other arm you could see a book he was carrying in his palm “I brought my own too”

“Yes! Of course you can” you beamed before getting a little embarrassed at how excited you sounded, redness pouring over your face giving it away but Nanami just smiled softly as he took his place on the other side of the two person couch. “What book is that?” You investigated the cover as you offered him the other end of your very large blanket.

“It’s a mystery novel. I like reading them sometimes to see if I can figure it out before the big reveal. I’m about halfway through this one and it’s about this problematic rich family who’s haunted by this big secret of some sort. I have a feeling I know what it is but in a weird way that makes it more exciting for me; now I get to feel really smug if I’ve guessed it or, I’m astonished at how wrong I am” he finished with a chuckle.

This was a new side you were seeing to him, in a cringy cliche it was like you were seeing Kento, not Nanami. Your gaze softened as you listened to his rambles, your stomach fluttering in a way that caught you off guard.

“Come on then” you smirked “what do you think the big secret it?”

Kento smiles “well it’s definitely something surrounding the children I think, my money is on the mother had an affair and the twins aren’t really the fathers” he explained opening his book “I have half of it left, I’ll probably finish most of it tonight.”

“I look forward to finding out.” You smiled before you two both sat in another comfortable silence enjoying your own books. Stealing secret glances at each other every now and again, sometimes accidentally catching each other and hurriedly returning to your books cheeks flushed.

After a good two hours you saw Kento’s expression change to shock as he placed a hand over his mouth, reading a little more frantically. You look up amused, “what’s the matter?”

“They’re… Siblings” Kento says in astonishment.

“Well yeah they’re twins aren’t they?” You looked at him not quite understanding.

“No [Y/N], the parents. The mother and father are siblings”

“Ew!” You contorted your face.

“I know!” He exclaimed before you both burst into laughter.

The rest of the night was spent talking on both of your books, laughing at jokes and it was a refreshing change which both of you didn’t want to admit how much you loved.

Before you knew it it was starting to get late again, a solemnness draped across the pair of you while you walked back, not wanting it to end but knew there was a curfew you had to meet.

“Same time next Friday?” You asked as you two reached the dorms. A wide grin causing a glint in his eyes seeps into his face as he nods enthusiastically in agreement.

And so started your new routine. Every Friday, you and Nanami would sneak away to the library to meet. The first half always spent reading then the second half started out and just talking about what you had just seen but the more you two grew comfortable the more there was additions of trivial things such as gossip you had heard off of Shoko which Kento surprisingly loved hearing to, and adding! The conversation would even turn to deeper levels as the pair of you really started to feel something between you two.

The only problem was that the pair of you were too awkward or nervous to say anything.

One Friday after a particularly gruelling week, by 8PM which was usually the time you two would stop reading and begin talking, Nanami looked over to see you asleep.

He spent a few moments looking at you, not wanting to be a creep but found you so beautiful all relaxed and peaceful. He put the photo of you and Shoko in between the pages that were sandwiching your thumb while you were asleep, picking you up bridal style.

Blanket draping on the floor as he carried you back to your dorm, settling you down in bed. The whole time not startling once, making Nanami feel his heart swell knowing how comfortable and safe you felt in his presence.

Unconsciously, after settling you into bed with the covers over you now, slippers neatly placed on the floor near the edge of your bed, Nanami couldn’t help the small soft kiss he peppered onto your forehead. Earning a happy little hum from you still deep in sleep.

Kento didn’t have the courage to confess, but right now this moment was enough for now.

A/N: ahhhhh this was so cute to write. part of me is wondering if I should continue it??

[koalapastries-writes]

congrats on 250 again!!! i was just wondering if you could do drivers dating an pro athlete reader and what sport they would compete in (if that makes sense) :)

it does! i think especially because f1 has typically been seen as a very macho sport (somehow) that, if any of the drivers came out, people would assume that they'd end up dating a male model or singer or someone in a field more associated with 'femininity' (however stupidly). so when it comes out that their boyfriend is an athlete just like the driver ... it definitely causes some reevaluation.

kimi antonelli:

soccer/football

probably met when you were little kids and played together

maybe drifted apart when he got more into karting and then reunited later?

especially if you play in the epl bc he's now in england for mercedes

takes you on a hot lap and teases you so much

until you get him to try to score a goal and he misses by a mile

lance stroll:

hockey player

duh

probably in the nhl

if you play for montreal he will literally never be seen without at least one (1) piece of your merch on him

if you play for another team he's having an internal battle every time you play his home team bc he wants you to win but he doesn't want his team beaten

will still celebrate with you if you do beat montreal

logan sargeant:

judo olympian

gets all blushy when you make sure that everyone in his comments know that you can, in fact, fight

will never admit that it's kinda hot when you use a toss on him

you can tell anyway

absolutely loves to just casually mention that you're an olympic medalist even when it has fuck all to do with the conversation

he's a proud bf what can he say

mick schumacher:

pro surfer

like i can just imagine mick sitting on the beach watching you at a surfing competition?

he's so stressed if you're taking on big waves

(if you ask him to he may consider wearing a cheerleader outfit but only in private)

when you met he definitely pretended to have no idea how to surf just so you could teach him

oscar piastri:

cricketer

he has two interests: cars and cricket

i see him especially as being a childhood sweetheart person?

like ... you guys were best friends and started dating before he moved to europe for karting

extra sweet if he only got into cricket because he was watching your matches

sebastian vettel:

okay i've done a little text fic with this before but

rugby player!reader

probably been together for a long time

you might even be the captain of your country's team

depending on when you met, seb likes the same thing but for different reasons

if you met in his rb/ferrari days, he's mostly in peak feral twink era and he likes that you can throw him around (whether or not you're taller than him)

if you met in his aston/retirement days, he loves how warm and strong you are. he's spending afternoons daydreaming about you carrying a kid in each arm with ease, or about watching you do farm chores