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helioooss · 10 days ago

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my favourite ex

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

w/c: roughly 9.5k+

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

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

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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

at least, that’s what you told yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that felt like a lifetime ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

as if you could forget.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hot,” beomgyu interjected.

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

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

your chest ached.

god, you missed her so much it hurt.

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

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

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

unfortunately, it didn’t go unnoticed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you alright?” she asked quietly.

“fine,” you mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she frowned. “don’t say that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

aeri, however, noticed immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“who?” beomgyu asked, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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

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

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

too quiet.

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

but the uneasy feeling lingered.

the second day was harder.

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

not a sight of you.

again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you didn’t matter.

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

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

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

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

“i’m bored of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

except you didn’t hate her.

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

it drove her insane.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

direct. circumstantial. hearsay.

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

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

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

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

what the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the thought didn’t stop the sting.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your grip tightened around your pen.

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

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

he doesn’t know her. he doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yeji frowned. “okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you couldn’t breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she was paying attention.

“are you sure —“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she hated how it made her feel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

minjeong stiffened. “what about her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“minjeong!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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

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

then the rumour started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ryujin raised an eyebrow. “you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“okay,” they were clearly unconvinced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“okay.”

you frowned, shaking your head. “okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what are you studying for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nodded hesitantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“anytime,” she answered, her voice soft.

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

“why?” she asked, tilting her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what?” you asked, frowning slightly.

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

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

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

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

you deserve better.

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

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

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

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

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

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

hopefully.

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

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

“y/n l/n and kim minjeong.”

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

you’ve got to be fucking kidding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was during your third meeting that everything went sideways.

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

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

“minjeong!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

sungchan’s gaze darted between you and minjeong, his grin faltering just a little. “huh, weird pair. but then again…” he trailed off, his smirk returning. “you two used to date, didn’t you?”

her jaw tightened, but she didn’t say anything. you, on the other hand, just rolled your eyes. “what’s your point?”

“nothing,” he replied, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms. “just funny how things work out, isn’t it? i mean, you’re stuck working with her, and she —”

“sungchan,” minjeong interrupted, her voice sharp. “stop.”

he blinked, clearly caught off guard by her tone. then he laughed, shaking his head. “fine, fine. i’ll stop. but, you know, it’s interesting —”

“sungchan,” she repeated, firmer this. “leave. we’re busy.”

he didn’t leave. instead, he looked at her, then at you and back again. and then, with a smug grin, he said, “wait minjeong, i thought you said you never liked her.”

the words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to explode. your stomach twisted, heart dropping into your chest as you stared at minjeong. she froze, her eyes widening slightly as she opened her mouth to respond.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you spoke for her, your voice low but sharp as you glared at sungchan.

“i’m just saying,” sungchan replied with a shrug, clearly oblivious to the tension he’d just created. “she told me she never really liked you. thought you’d have figured that out by now. why are you still sticking around?”

“sungchan,” minjeong snapped, her voice colder than ice now. “leave. now — before i knock your fucking teeth out of you.”

he finally seemed to realise he’d crossed a line, his grin faltering as he stood up. “jeez, okay. no need to bite my head off,” he set the coffee and croissant down on the table, muttering, “enjoy your project,” before walking off.

the silence that followed was deafening.

“did you really say that?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling just enough to betray how much it hurt.

she looked at you, her expression panicked for a split second before she forced herself to remain calm. “no,” she said firmly. “he’s lying. why would i do that?”

“so he just made that up?” you shot back, your tone harsher now. “out of nowhere?”

“yes,” she said, her voice steady but strained. “i never said that. i —” she hesitated, her gaze dropping to the table. “i wouldn’t say that about you, ever.”

you scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “great, so now i’m supposed to believe that, what? he’s just running around making up lies about you?”

“i don’t know,” she mumbled, her voice quieter now. “but i didn’t say it. you have to believe me.”

you stared at her for a long moment, searching her face for any hint of insincerity but she looked genuinely upset, her usual mask of indifference cracking just enough for you to see the guilt and frustration beneath it.

“whatever,” you muttered finally, looking away. “let’s just finish this stupid project.”

minjeong opened her mouth to respond, but then she closed it again, her shoulders slumping slightly. for the rest of the session, neither of you spoke unless it was directly about the project.

the air between you was heavier than ever, weighed down by everything that had been said — and left unsaid.

finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. you slammed your pen down on the table, the sharp sound cutting through the library’s quiet hum.

“do you think this is funny?” you snapped, your voice low but furious as you glared at her. “is this all just some game to you?”

she looked up, startled by your sudden outburst. “what are you talking about?”

“you,” you hissed, your chest heaving as your emotions boiled over. “you dump me in front of everyone, act like i don’t exist for months and now you’re back in my life, acting like you care? and on top of that, sungchan shows up and says you never liked me? are you fucking kidding me, minjeong?”

for once, she looked genuinely at a loss, her usual composure completely shattered.

“do you even realise how humiliating this is for me?” you continued, your voice trembling with anger. “i have been trying to move on, to forget about you and every time i feel like i’m getting somewhere, you show up and remind me of how much of an idiot i am for still caring about you!”

“you’re not an idiot,” she said quickly, her voice soft but desperate. “y/n, i —”

“then why?” you demanded, leaning forward, your eyes burning into hers. “why did you break up with me like that? why do you keep showing up, acting like you care and then pulling shit like this?”

minjeong stared at you, her jaw tight, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. for a moment, you thought she wouldn’t answer. then, she exhaled shakily, running a hand through her hair.

“because i’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “i was scared then and i’m scared now.”

you blinked, thrown off by her sudden vulnerability. “scared of what?”

“of how much you mean to me,” she said, her gaze dropping to the table. “of how much you’ve always meant to me. y/n, when we were together, you…you saw right through me. you knew me better than anyone else ever has and it terrified me. because if you could do that, if you could get that close, then you could hurt me in ways no one else ever could.”

her voice cracked slightly, and she swallowed hard before continuing. “so i pushed you away. i thought if i ended it, if i made you hate me, then i could protect myself but all i did was hurt you, and i hate myself for that.”

you stared at her, your anger fading into something closer to disbelief. “you broke up with me in front of everyone.”

“i know,” she trembled. “i know and it was cruel and i’ll never forgive myself for it. but i didn’t mean it. i didn’t mean any of it. i thought if i made it loud, if i made it final, then i’d stop feeling the way i do about you. but it didn’t work.”

you shook your head, trying to process her words. “then why did you let sungchan say all that crap? why didn’t you stop him?”

“because i didn’t know how,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “i didn’t know how to fix this, how to tell you everything i’ve been feeling. i thought it was too late.”

“it is too late,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “you can’t just come back into my life and expect me to forgive you for everything. it doesn’t work like that.”

minjeong nodded, her expression crumpling slightly. “i know. i don’t expect you to forgive me. but i need you to know that i never stopped caring about you. not for a second.”

her words hung in the air, heavy and raw. you looked at her, at the way her usual calm had completely unraveled and you didn’t know what to say.

part of you wanted to scream at her, to tell her that her feelings didn’t matter anymore.

“i don’t know if i can do this,” you said finally, your voice quieter now but no less firm. “i don’t know if i can trust you again.”

“i understand,” she looked down, fidgeting with the hem of shirt. “but i’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that i mean it. i’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

you didn’t say anything — you didn’t need to for now. instead, you turned your attention back to your notes, your chest tight with a mixture of anger and sadness. the girl across from you stayed silent after that, giving you the space you needed, but you could feel her presence beside you, heavy and unrelenting.

she had said all the things you’d once wanted to hear — things you’d longed for when she left you shattered in the middle of that hallway.

“y/n,” minjeong’s voice was quiet, hesitant. “please say something.”

you didn’t look at her. “there’s nothing to say.”

“you don’t believe me,” she said softly, more a statement than a question.

“no,” you admitted, your tone clipped. “i don’t.”

the words hung between you like a final nail in the coffin. minjeong opened her mouth to respond, but you were already standing, gathering your things with deliberate precision.

“where are you going?” she asked, panic flickering in her voice.

“home,” you said shortly. “i need to think.”

“what about the project?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.

you hesitated for a fraction of a second, then put your bag over your shoulder. “figure it out.”

��･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

for the next few days, you avoided her like the plague. you skipped the library sessions, ignored her texts and avoided her in class. when professor diaz asked about your progress on the project, you lied, saying you were working on it separately.

ryujin cornered you in the courtyard one afternoon, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed.

“what’s going on with you?” she demanded. “you’ve been weird all week.”

“nothing,” you replied, looking away.

“bullshit,” she snapped. “this is about minjeong, isn’t it?”

you didn’t answer, but your silence was enough.

“y/n,” she sighed, her tone softening. “you can’t keep running from this. i know she screwed up, okay? we all know that. but you need to deal with it instead of shutting everyone out.”

“i’m not shutting everyone out,” you defended yourself.”

“you’ve been avoiding her, skipping the library and now you’re lying to the professor about the project,” she listed off. “sounds like shutting everyone out to me.”

“it’s none of your business,” you muttered, brushing past her.

“actually, it is,” a new voice chimed in. you turned to see beomgyu and yeji approaching, both looking equally concerned. “because now we have to deal with mopey minjeong asking about you.”

“she’s not —” you started, but beomgyu cut you off.

“oh, she is,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “she asked me yesterday if you’d said anything about her. looked like a kicked puppy when i told her no.”

“you’re being dramatic,” you muttered, but your resolve was weakening.

“he’s not,” yeji said firmly. “and honestly, y/n, it’s exhausting watching you both avoid each other when clearly there’s so much unresolved.”

“i’m done with her,” you admitted, though the words felt hollow even to you.

“are you?” ryujin challenged, her eyes narrowing. “because you don’t look done. you look hurt. and if you keep bottling this up, it’s only going to get worse.”

on the other side of campus, minjeong was facing her own intervention. her friends had dragged her to the gazebo, refusing to let her leave until they got answers.

“spill,” jimin demanded, leaning forward with her arms crossed. “what’s going on with you and y/n?”

“nothing,” minjeong muttered, staring at the ground.

“oh, please,” aeri rolled her eyes. “you’ve been moping around like someone stole your dog. what happened?”

minjeong sighed, running a hand through her hair. “i…told her how i felt.”

“and?” yizhuo prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“and she doesn’t believe me,” she admitted, her voice small.

jimin groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “well, can you blame her? you broke her heart in front of the entire university, minjeong, and when she chased you around, you ran faster.”

“and you’ve been cold and distant ever since,” aeri added. “what did you expect? that she’d just fall back into your arms the moment you said you cared?”

“i wasn’t expecting anything,” minjeong said defensively. “i just…i wanted her to know the truth.”

“okay, so you told her,” yizhuo shrugged. “now what?”

“she’s avoiding me,” minjeong responded, her voice cracking slightly. “she won’t answer my texts or show up for the project. i don’t know what to do.”

“maybe start by actually communicating,” jimin suggested dryly. “you know, instead of expecting her to read your mind.”

“and stop being so passive,” aeri chimed in. “if you want her to believe you, you need to show her. actions, not just words.”

“but what if it’s too late?” minjeong asked, her voice trembling. “what if she doesn’t want me anymore?”

jimin sighed, her expression softening. “then you’ll have to accept that. but at least you’ll know you tried.”

“i’m just going to drink my heart out.”

the sun was just beginning to set, casting a soft orange glow over the campus as you made your way toward the stairs that led home. the day had been long and all you wanted was to collapse into bed. as you reached the top of the stairs, you spotted jimin, aeri and yizhuo waiting for you like a trio of judgmental guardians.

“great,” you muttered under your breath, already preparing for whatever nonsense they were about to throw your way.

“y/n,” jimin said, stepping forward with a raised eyebrow, “we need to talk.”

“can’t it wait?” you asked, brushing past her, but aeri stepped in your way, blocking your path with her arms crossed.

“it’s about minjeong,” aeri said flatly, her piercing gaze locking on yours.

that stopped you in your tracks. you didn’t look at them, but your stomach twisted in knots. “what about her?”

yizhuo sighed dramatically, leaning against the stone railing. “she’s at joe’s juice joint. drinking.”

“on a tuesday night,” jimin added, mirroring aeri’s stance. “because word has it that a certain someone has been avoiding her.”

you scoffed. “i don’t care what she does.”

“she’s been there since this afternoon,” aeri said, raising an eyebrow. “she’s refusing to leave and we’ve had her guards attempt to pick her up.”

“because of you,” yizhuo chimed in, her voice unusually serious. “she thinks you’re done with her.”

you rolled your eyes, clutching the strap of your bag tighter. “she brought this on herself.”

“she did,” jimin agreed, stepping closer. “but she’s still hurting. and whether you want to admit it or not, you care about her.”

“why don’t you pick her up then?” you shot back, but your voice wavered slightly, betraying your frustration.

“because,” yizhuo shook her head. “it’s not us she’s been crying about. trust me, we’ve tried.”

that stung.

the three of them watched you expectantly, their expressions a mixture of smugness and concern.

finally, you let out a defeated sigh. “fine, i’ll go and talk to her.”

“thank you,” aeri smiled, stepping aside. “and while you’re at it, remind her that drowning her sorrows in alcohol isn’t a personality trait.”

✧･ﾟ: *��･ﾟ:*

the bar was dimly lit, the scent of citrus and wood polish thick in the air. it wasn’t crowded, but the familiar hum of chatter and soft music filled the space. you scanned the room quickly, your heart sinking when you spotted her in the far corner.

minjeong sat slouched in her chair, one arm resting lazily on the table while the other clutched a half-empty glass of whiskey. her blazer hung off her shoulders, her usually neat blonde hair slightly disheveled.

she looked up as you approached, her eyes widening briefly before she looked away, taking a long sip from her drink.

“minjeong,” you called out, voice firm. “what are you doing here?”

she didn’t answer right away, swirling the liquid in her glass. “drinking.”

“on a tuesday night?” you pressed, sitting down across from her. “this isn’t like you.”

she snorted, the sound bitter. “maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

“cut the bullshit, minjeong,” you said sharply. “why are you here?”

she set her glass down with a thud, her lips trembling slightly. “because you won’t talk to me,” she said, her voice cracking. “because i miss you, y/n. i miss you so much and it hurts.”

her words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you refused to let your guard down. her usually cold demeanour was gone, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

“you don’t get to say that,” you clenched your jaw. “you don’t get to sit here and cry about how much you miss me after what you did.”

she winced, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “i know, y/n. and i hate myself for it. i hate that i hurt you, that i pushed you away. but i didn’t know what else to do.”

“so you thought breaking my heart in front of everyone was the solution?” you snapped, your voice trembling. “you made me feel like i didn’t matter to you, minjeong. like i was nothing.”

“you were everything,” she said, her voice desperate. “that’s what scared me. i thought…if i ended it, i’d protect myself. but all i did was destroy the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“winter —” you started, but she cut you off, her eyes finally meeting yours.

“you have every reason to hate me,” she said, her voice breaking. “but i can’t stop thinking about you. i don’t want anyone else. i just want you, for the rest of my life, i’m certain i want you.”

her confession left you stunned, the sincerity in her voice breaking down the walls you’d so carefully built. you didn’t realise how much you’d needed to hear those words until now.

“you really hurt me,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t know if i can trust you again.”

“let me earn it,” she said, her eyes pleading. “please, y/n. give me another chance. i’ll do whatever it takes.”

her words lingered in the air, and for a moment, you hesitated; part of you wanted to walk away and protect yourself from getting hurt again.

but you loved her.

“fine,” you said finally, your voice soft. “but you’re going to have to work for it. and right now, we’re getting you out of here.”

to your surprise, she didn’t hesitate. she grabbed her blazer, threw it over her shoulders and clung to your arm as you guided her out of the bar, her grip firm as if she was afraid you’d let go.

“you don’t have to do this,” she mumbled, her voice slurred. “you don’t owe me anything.”

“you’re right,” you said, guiding her through the door. “but someone has to make sure you don’t end up passed out on the sidewalk.”

she let out a weak laugh, her fingers tightening around your arm. “you’re too good to me.”

“don’t push it,” you muttered, but the corners of your lips twitched.

when you reached the car, she refused to let go of your hand. even as you opened the door for her, she tugged you closer, pressing soft, clumsy kisses to your knuckles.

“minjeong,” you said, your voice tinged with exasperation. “get in the car.”

“i don’t deserve you,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your skin. “but i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you this time.”

you sighed, your heart twisting as you gently pried her hands off yours and helped her into the passenger seat.

the ride to her mansion was cloaked in a heavy silence, save for the occasional sniffle from her. her head rested gently on your shoulder, her fingers entwined with yours.

the gesture felt intimate, almost too much for the charged air between you, but you didn’t pull away. you weren’t sure if it was to comfort her or yourself.

“i missed you,” she began, planting another gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “i wish i told you sooner.”

you hummed, nodding as you pulled up to the gates of her mansion. “i wish you did too.”

minjeong didn’t move. her gaze was fixed on your joined hands, her thumb absentmindedly tracing circles over your skin. she let out a shaky breath, her lips parting as if to speak but no words came.

“winter?” you prompted softly, your brows knitting together in concern.

she finally looked up at you, her eyes glossy and filled with something raw, vulnerable. “i don’t want to go inside,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

you tilted your head. “why not?”

“because…” she hesitated, her grip on your hand tightening slightly. “because i don’t want to be alone.”

her words hit you square in the chest, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. her eyes searched yours and then, hesitantly, she leaned forward just slightly, her breath warm against your lips.

she stopped, hovering close, her needy voice barely audible. “can i kiss you? please?”

the question made your heart stutter. the vulnerability in her voice; you could see how much this moment mattered to her, how much she was holding herself back, waiting for your permission.

“minjeong,” you let out a shaky breath; unsure. “you’ve been drinking. you’re not sober and i don’t want to take advantage of you.”

she shook her head quickly, her fingers tightening around yours. “it’s not like that,” she pleaded, her voice cracking slightly. “i know what i’m asking. this isn’t the alcohol talking. it’s me — your winter, remember?”

you stared at her, your chest tightening as her words settled over you. “are you sure?”

“please,” she whispered, leaning just a little closer. “just one kiss. i need you to know how much you mean to me.”

then you nodded, your voice barely audible as you said, “okay.”

the relief on her face was instant. she leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. her warm lips brushed against yours softly, hesitantly, as if she was afraid of pushing too far. her hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin in a gentle, almost praising way.

her tongue darted out to meet yours, hesitant at first but growing bolder as the kiss grew more intense. your tongues danced together, a rhythm of unspoken words and emotions too overwhelming to say aloud.

her fingers moved to cup your face, thumbs brushing against your skin as if she was trying to memorise the feel of you.

she wasn’t just kissing you — she was apologising, pleading and pouring every unspoken word into the way her lips moved against yours.

you hummed softly against her lips, your hands finding their way to her waist and pulling her closer. she smiled when your skin pressed against hers letting your arm snake around her body.

and once minjeong was no longer content with just that, she shifted in her seat, climbing over the console until she was straddling you in the driver’s seat. her knees pressed against the sides of the chair, her body fitting perfectly against yours as her hands tangled in your hair.

the kiss turned hungrier, more desperate, as if she was afraid this moment might slip away. her fingers pulled your hair slightly as her lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your heart race.

your hands slid up her back, pressing her closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

“minjeong,” you murmured against her lips, your voice breathless but she silenced you with another kiss, her lips capturing yours in a way that made your head spin. “this isn’t one kiss.”

“please don’t push me away,” she whispered between kisses, her voice trembling. “i’ll prove it to you, y/n. i’ll prove that i can be better. just…don’t let me go.”

your hands gripped her waist, anchoring her to you. “i’m not pushing you away,” you replied softly, your lips brushing against hers. “but this doesn’t fix everything.”

“i know,” she mumbled quickly, her forehead resting against yours. “but i miss you, i’m sorry.”

you kissed her again, slower this time, more deliberate. your tongues moved together in the same rhythm, her hands trailing down to your shoulders, her touch lingering as if she was afraid you might vanish.

when you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads still pressed together. her eyes fluttered open and she looked at you with so much adoration in her eyes.

“come inside,” she whispered, her voice soft but insistent. “please, stay with me tonight.”

“okay,” you pressed a kiss against her cheek, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “let’s go.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end.

#kpop x reader #aespa x reader #aespa #aespa imagines #winter x reader #kim minjeong #minjeong x reader #kpop gg #kpop imagines

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jsluvtzu · 1 year ago

Text

location

im nayeon x fem!reader

summary: there’s no point in hiding, she already knows.

cw: hs!au, smuttt, mentions of killing, cursing, nayeon is soso jealous, men dni

wc: 2.7k

a/n: this took forever to come out i’m sorry!! but jealous/possessive/toxic nayeon.. i need you…

“wait, so you’ve never gone anywhere without letting her know first?”, your friend was appalled at hearing how nayeon kept tabs on you at all times.

“no, never. i always have to call her first and tell her exactly where i’m going and when i’m gonna be back home. it’s fucking ridiculous.”

you were beyond frustrated with your girlfriend’s possessive nature and borderline stalking.

“well.. except for today.”

“holy shit?? she doesn’t know you’re here? what if she kills you..” your friend’s eyes widen at her sudden realization, “what if she kills me??”, she points at herself and watches as you smack your forehead and lean back against her couch, cackling at her ridiculous question.

“mia, she’s not gonna kill you, relax. she’s just a little protective.”

honestly you were trying to convince both her and yourself. there was always a small possibility that your girlfriend could actually kill somebody.

you knew how carried away she got when it came to you.

—

nayeon was the captain of the cheer team. the popular superstar who ran the social scene at school. she was always getting hit on by random boys and no matter how many times she rejected them, they always came back desperate for more.

people basically kissed the ground she walked on, willing to do anything to please her and make her fall for them. it was an honor to get even a second of im nayeon’s attention.

you however, couldn’t care less even if she was in the same class as you.

in your 6th period physics class, being able to have nayeon as a lab partner was like a dream come true. boys would swarm her desk like bees immediately at the mention of a partner lab, but you never understood the big deal behind it.

of course you thought nayeon was pretty.

her daily pinked-out outfits, perfectly styled hair, not too heavy makeup, and the skin-tight cheer uniform she wore every friday. everything she wore accentuated her proportions insanely.

she was beautiful, but losing your mind over her like everyone else was just pointless to you.

you had one person you were willing to be friends with out of the whole class. mia.

she was just like you. normal and not nayeon obsessed. the two of you always stayed towards the back of the room and kept to yourselves. nayeon noticed that.

well more specifically, nayeon noticed you.

she noticed the way your hair was always a little messy, your oversized shirts always had a little wrinkle to them, your pants were always too baggy, and your worn out converse were caked in with dirt and childhood memories.

she could fix you.

when nayeon first approached you about her overdue homework in the halls, you acted as if she was bothering you instead of granting you the privilege of her presence. it wasn’t the usual interaction she would have with somebody.

unlike the rest of the school, you were the only one able to make eye contact with her and not fold in half.

for the first time, nayeon could have a genuine conversation with someone without being treated like a celebrity.

you were special to her. and she wanted you all to herself.

when you two started dating, word spread around like wildfire. everyone wanted you dead.

the football team threatened you everyday, calling you a lowlife loser and confidently describing the ways they would steal nayeon away from you.

it’s not like you were worried about nayeon being “stolen” from you. it was bound to happen given her popularity. but nobody knew that it was actually nayeon who was worried about you being stolen from her.

she was terrified of losing the one person who could actually love her for who she is and not just what she looks like.

nayeon was worried about one person in particular. your friend, mia. you were always oblivious to the fact that she had a slight thing for you.

the subtle touches here and there, the way she complimented you, the way she looked at you. it was all just platonic to you, but to nayeon, she was a threat.

now imagine how she feels when she finds out you’re suddenly at mia’s house. alone with her.

—

there was a random movie playing in the background while you both sat on the couch sharing a blanket, talking about your girl problems.

mia listened to you with a heavy heart, knowing she could definitely treat you better than nayeon can.

“is she just protective or is she crazy..? i mean you deserve to go places without her knowing your whereabouts 24/7 right? it’s your life, you can do whatever you want. if i was your girlfriend, i wouldn’t be so fucking insane.”, mia was disappointed at how long you’ve had to put up with this.

“hey, she’s not insane okay, it’s all just new to her.. the whole authenticity thing with another person. she doesn’t know how to handle it yet.”

you were slightly offended at mia’s harsh words about your girlfriend, but you agreed with her nonetheless. it was draining having to constantly tell nayeon where you were all the time.

a sudden buzz on your phone made you jump and freeze at the fear of facing your reality.

nayeonie 🎀 1m ago i’m outside.

“what is it, y/n?” mia asked with a hint of concern in her tone, seeing how your demeanor changed.

“she’s.. outside.”, your heart dropped reading your girlfriend’s text, scrambling your brain together to figure out how she tracked you down.

“what do you mean she’s outside??”

“i don’t fucking know, mia. okay?! she just found out somehow, and now she’s fucking here.”, you didn’t mean to yell at her, but your anxiety overtook you.

“i have to go.”

you threw the knitted blanket off your legs and grabbed your bag, racing out the door without saying another word.

nayeon’s car was parked along the curb and her almost illegally tinted windows blocked you from seeing her face.

you slowly walked towards her car, clutching your belongings tightly. a weak attempt at stopping your heart from beating out of your chest.

when nayeon was angry, it was like a flipped switch. she became explosive and aggressive.

but surprisingly, when you opened the door, nayeon kept her eyes straight ahead. she didn’t say a word to you. she had her left arm hanging loosely over the top of the steering wheel, and her right hand gripping the gearshift, fingers tapping a frantic beat.

you were afraid to break the silence. the atmosphere was suffocating and filled with nayeon’s concealed, but obvious irritation.

“how.. how did you know where i was?”, your leg bouncing restlessly and your voice hoarse from nervousness.

nayeon didn’t respond and that only worried you even more. usually she would be screaming in your face about something like this, but today? pure silence.

“nay.. answer me? please?”, you turned to look at your girlfriend and saw her stoic expression. you hated this. you would rather just hear her go off on you instead.

“i’m sorry for not telling you, okay? i just needed some space.”

nayeon slammed down on the brakes and your whole body jerked forward. your mouth fell open, shocked and unable to form any words. you were just glad it was a secluded road with no cars behind.

“space? you just needed some fucking space?”

nayeon stared daggers into your soul, her eyes darkened by her jealousy.

she pulled over to the gravelly side of the road, taking her key out and clicking off her seatbelt.

somehow she appeared on your right side in the blink of an eye, yanking the door open and forcefully grasping your arm.

nayeon peeled you out of the seat, simultaneously opening the backseat door with one hand. she guided you forward until you reached the perfect spot for her to shove you down into the hard leather.

you winced at her roughness and caressed your head in pain, composing yourself enough to sit up and scoot yourself back against the window.

“thought you could just go to some other bitch’s house and i wouldn’t find out hm?” nayeon slid into the seat behind the passenger’s and slammed her car door shut.

she was smiling like an absolute psychopath. her face contrasted her words drastically between her soft tone and bared teeth.

“was the ‘space’ you needed in her bed? huh? needed some space between your fucking legs?”

nayeon surveyed the skimpy clothes you wore, messing with the thin fabric of your skirt.

“you even dressed up all nice and pretty for her baby. you were tempting her weren’t you? hm? just wanted her to see all your pretty parts?”

nayeon rubbed her warm hands along the length of your legs to the insides of your thighs, squeezing them lightly on the way up.

“please can we just talk about this, nay. i don’t wanna fuck right now.”, you were trying so hard to fight back the urge to give in when you felt your girlfriend’s hand get dangerously close to your clit.

nayeon hummed and moved her hands up to your waist, rubbing her thumbs over whatever was exposed from your tight crop top.

“but there’s nothing to talk about, is there, pretty girl? you knew this would happen. you knew i would find you.”

nayeon moved to the middle of the seat and grabbed your legs, pulling you over to straddle her lap. her hands flew to your ass, rubbing and grabbing at your flesh under your skirt, making you whine.

“nayeon, i’m serious. i’ve never told you mia’s address before, you’re fucking scaring me.”, your hands wrapped freely around her neck, feeling her warmth radiating against your fingertips. your faces were impossibly close together in her cramped car and your lips grazed each other faintly.

she smiled at you again. “i have my ways, sweetheart.”, nayeon leaned in to kiss you, but you pulled away.

“i’m not giving you anything until you talk to me.”

you weren’t going to deny the fact that you were unbelievably horny right now, you just wanted to clear the air beforehand.

“i don’t think you have much of a choice in this position, angel.”

throwing your head back in annoyance was a bad idea.

nayeon took that opportunity to attack your pulse point with her soft lips and wet tongue.

her arms held your body tight against her, locking you in with no escape.

your whiny moans only gave nayeon the primal urge to nip and suck on your perfume soaked skin.

she kissed her way down your throat to bite the point of your shoulder and ran her tongue back up to your ear, whispering in a deep, raspy voice that sent chills down your spine.

“g’na mark you all up for that desperate little bitch to see exactly who you belong to.”

bruises and bite marks immediately formed on every inch of your neck, evidence of your girlfriend’s sadistic message to mia.

nayeon shifted her hand underneath your skirt and palmed your pussy through the damp fabric of your cotton panties, cooing and mocking you for being turned on by her teasing.

she kept one arm wrapped around your lower back, her middle finger tracing circles lightly around your clothed clit.

soft moans escaped your lips and you found yourself subconsciously grinding against nayeon’s hand.

“aw, is my pretty baby getting all needy for me? does she need me to fuck her that bad?”

you nodded your head and whined in nayeon’s ear, trying your best to sound as sweet as possible.

nayeon’s lips made contact with your neck again, sinking her teeth into your flesh, driving you absolutely crazy.

she quickly moved your panties to the side, giving herself free reign to make you feel good.

she ran her fingers through your slit a couple times before inserting herself inside you slowly.

nayeon’s fingers were long. everytime you compared hand sizes, the length of them next to yours triggered the most sinful thoughts in your mind. the way she could palm your full asscheek with one grab drove you crazy with need.

the tips of her two fingers kissed the deepest part of your cervix when she bottomed out inside of you. she kept her movements still and allowed you some time to adjust to her length.

you let out a drawn out moan and brought your own hand down to grab at nayeon’s wrist.

nayeon pulled out of you slowly, staring at you with nothing but lust in her eyes.

when she left your pussy feeling empty, you mewled and gave her your best puppy eyes, pleading for her to continue fucking you with her stupidly long fingers.

“please.. just fuck me already, please baby, ‘need you..”, your hips chased her fingers in search of your own pleasure, but to no avail. nayeon just tsked at you and gripped your hip to stop you from squirming.

“you know what i want, sweet girl.”

it took you a moment to realize what she was asking for, but you quickly remembered how much nayeon liked to watch you fuck yourself on her fingers.

you nodded and sank yourself down slowly onto nayeon’s digits, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. you forced your eyes to stay open, letting out short, breathy moans.

“that’s it baby, that’s my girl.”, nayeon praised you as you moved your hips in a rhythm, riding her fingers and pressing your forehead against hers.

“just keep looking pretty like this for me. fuck.. all for me. you’re all mine, right baby?”

your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could tell that nayeon’s gaze never left yours. her tongue running across her lips, licking them to keep herself together.

she helped you out by thrusting her fingers in sync with your movements, matching your pace. your clit landed perfectly on her flexed palm every time you lowered your core back down.

“yes, fuck- ‘m all yours nay- only yours.”

nayeon could tell you were getting close when she felt your walls tightening around her and your pace getting sloppier.

“yeah? you mean that?”

“mhm, fuck- nobody else can fuck me like this. god, you feel too good-“

you were so, so close to cumming. the built up pleasure in you was ready to release, but nayeon had a different idea in mind.

hearing you reaffirm that you were hers made it incredibly hard for her to control the urge to just fuck you senseless, but she didn’t want you to have that sweet release. not after the stunt you pulled. you were just lucky she was even touching you right now.

nayeon snatched her fingers out just when you were at the edge of your high, steadying you with both hands back at your waist.

“aw, did my dumb little baby really think she was gonna cum after she tried to be sneaky like that? poor thing..”, she was taunting you now by slapping your clit harshly, knowing it would make you finish anyways.

you gripped at nayeon’s shoulders, bunching up the sleeves of her shirt in your hands and hiding your face in the crook of her neck, mumbling out small apologies in between choked whimpers.

nayeon heard another alert ring on your phone. you were too fucked out and tired to be aware of it, so she hugged you with one arm and leaned forward to reach for your phone in the cup holder up front.

she typed in your password and went to your messages to see a text from her.

mia 🧸 2m ago u good?? hope ur gf didn’t get jealous or wtv lmao

your “gf” laughed at mia’s audacity, tapping the camera icon next to the message bar.

“smile for the camera, baby.”

nayeon lifted your head off her shoulder and adjusted the strands of hair that stuck to your forehead with sweat, angling the phone to capture every freshly purple mark she left on your neck and your cutely flushed face.

you heard the sound of the photo being sent and looked down to see nayeon with a big smile on her face, typing something along with it.

“ 'd you really have to do that, nay?”, you shook your head at her while wiping the sweat off your top lip.

“it’s either this, or i kill her and her whole family.”

and she meant every word.

#twice imagines #twice x reader #twice smut #kpop x reader #kpop gg #nayeon x reader #nayeon smut #im nayeon

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winxanity-ii · 3 months ago

Text

RESONANCE

ship: various!bnha x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 5.5k a/n: just wanted to spit out a lil one-shot, not sure if I'll make a full fic from this but who knows lolol; tell me what y'all think…

★·.·´🇲‌🇾‌ 🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇴‌ 🇦‌🇨‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌🇲‌🇮‌🇦‌/🇧‌🇳‌🇭‌🇦‌/🇲‌🇭‌🇦‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

All your life, people gravitated to you.

It was something that felt almost like gravity—a pull that made others orbit around you, with secrets and vulnerabilities spilling out like some cracked, overflowing dam.

They couldn't help it, and it wasn't something you actively tried to do either.

Your Quirk, Confidant, was a force of its own, turning you into an unwitting confessional booth for whoever happened to cross your path. Whether you were ready for it or not, they opened up.

There had been days when you tried to keep it off, to put up the wall and protect yourself from the sheer emotional weight that others dumped at your feet. But it took too much effort, too much focus to constantly repel that need in others.

If someone came to you, tearing up over a breakup or raging about the stress of everyday life, you'd let them; it was just easier to let it run its course.

And, sure, there weren't any physical drawback—no energy drained or migraines induced. But to you, there was a burden no one else seemed to recognize: the reboot.

Once someone started talking, your mind went into what you had nicknamed "short-reboot mode." It was like something within you flipped a switch, and suddenly, every part of you worked to cater to them.

Your eyes would track every shift in their expression, your ears catching every wobble in their voice. You'd analyze, break down every cue, every breath, until your responses flowed with practiced ease—the words that person needed to hear, the exact tone that made them relax.

Sometimes, you'd offer a soft, comforting touch. Other times, you'd say nothing at all, just be a presence there to anchor them.

When it was over, and they'd leave—well, that was when things got weird.

Not for them; no, for them it was almost as if a fog rolled over their memory of the whole thing. A protective influence that made the event seem far-off, unimportant, a comforting haze to keep them from fixating on you.

For you, though? You'd collapse in bed later on, mind swimming with everything you'd absorbed, while the Quirk worked behind the scenes to sort and compartmentalize every scrap of information.

It all got stored away—permanently—so you'd never forget.

And because of that, you hated it.

You hated how your brain worked on autopilot for everyone else, how every emotional exchange was something you'd retain forever while the small, everyday things slipped right through the cracks.

You'd put down your phone and lose it within minutes, or take things into a room one by one when you could easily grab everything at once. Your grandfather loved to tease you about it, always laughing as he cackled out, "Book sense, not a lick of common sense!"

Today, it was no different.

You groaned as you walked down the stairs from your bedroom, a yawn escaping your lips as you shuffled along.

You looked every bit as tired as you felt—oversized hoodie hanging loosely from your shoulders, the fabric wrinkled and slightly twisted, and your oversized socks pooling around your ankles.

Your clothes were a patchwork of dark shades, clinging to you in a way that made it clear you'd grabbed whatever was closest without a second thought. Your hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail, secured with a shoelace of all things, because you couldn't find a single rubber band.

You sucked your teeth at the thought, recalling how bit by bit, you had given away every one of your hairbands over the last few weeks to others who needed them. "I just bought that bulk pack," you muttered under your breath, feeling the mild frustration bubble up as you ambled into the kitchen.

The moment you stepped into the bright atmosphere of the kitchen, it felt like you were walking into another world. The colors, the light, the very mood—all of it was the opposite of you. The kitchen was warm, sunlight pouring in through the curtains, highlighting the cheery yellow walls.

Your mother was already bustling around, her cotton candy pink hair tied neatly at the base of her neck, her slender form moving with practiced grace as she prepared breakfast.

Her skin was a deep, rich shade of brown, and her eyes were bright yellow, almost glowing, with small opal-like moles at the corners that caught the morning light. She looked like something from a storybook, too perfect for the mundane scene unfolding around her.

The moment she noticed you shuffling over, she gasped softly, a bright smile blooming across her face. "Good morning, ____~," she sang, her voice lilting and sweet. "Did you have a good rest?"

You grunted in response, barely managing to pull the chair out before plopping down into it, your face half-hidden by the hood of your sweatshirt.

"That's great, sweetie~," she chirped, entirely unfazed by your lack of enthusiasm. She set a plate of food in front of you, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your cheek. "Eat up. Your big brother will be taking you to school soon—you know how he gets about wanting you to be on time." She gave you one last gentle pat before twirling away, humming to herself, lost in her own vibrant little world.

It wasn't long before the rest of your family joined you. Your father and brother came down the stairs only seconds later, both of them just as bright and awake as your mother.

Your brother's footsteps were loud and purposeful as he approached, his hand ruffling your hair as he passed by. "Morning, sis," he said, his voice cheerful, a bright grin lighting up his face.

"Morning," you mumbled, barely looking up.

Your father followed, his broad shoulders taking up the space in the doorway for a moment as he stepped into the kitchen. His blue hair was tousled but neat, the same shade as the sky on a crisp morning. His green eyes were sharp but softened when he looked at you, a smile spreading across his face.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Good morning, little love," he said, his voice deep and warm, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

You sighed softly, nodding in response as they settled at the table.

Your mother moved between them, setting their plates down before finally taking a seat herself, her smile unwavering as she looked at all of you.

The scene was perfect, almost unreal in its harmony—the three of them chatting easily over breakfast, their voices blending together with the soft sound of birds chirping outside the window.

Even though it was a regular, cloudy day, the kitchen seemed filled with sunshine, the warmth radiating from your family like a beacon. Everything about the morning—the bright voices, the gentle smiles—made it feel mythical, as if you were living in a fairytale.

It was always like this: your family's moods almost too perfect, too light. How could they not be, though, when they had you? Built-in therapist, problem solver, always there to smooth over any tension, any hint of unease.

They could always be at their best because you carried the weight for them.

As everyone finished up, your brother stood, gathering the dishes and taking them to the sink. Your mother got up as well, moving to grab everyone's packed lunches for the day.

Your father turned to you, his gaze softening as he addressed you. "____," he started, his voice gentle but with a hint of something else—hesitation, maybe? "Could you come by my agency later after school? We've got a case... or, well, a patient. I could use your help again."

You hummed, a small sound of acknowledgment as you poked at the last bit of food on your plate. "Sure," you said, though the idea of it made your shoulders droop a little. It wasn't that you didn't want to help, but the thought of more people, more emotions, more weight, felt heavy already.

Your father's smile brightened, and he reached over, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, little love. You know it means a lot to me." He worked as a hero, and it wasn't uncommon for him to ask for your help.

He ran an agency called Constellation, and his quirk, Record, a photographic memory that worked both by touch and mentally, made him one of the best at what he did. He primarily worked with police and undercover heroes, solving cases that required an eye for detail that few others had.

Ever since you'd gained your quirk, he'd relied on you for the more delicate matters—the emotional weight of things that even he couldn't quite process alone.

A few seconds later, your brother returned, his grin blinding as he held out your backpack and lunch. "C'mon, sleepyhead," he said, his eyes bright with excitement. "I got your stuff. Let's go catch the train."

You pushed your chair back, standing up with a stretch. "Yeah, yeah," you muttered, taking the bag from him. You turned to your parents, waving lazily over your shoulder. Your mother and father stood side by side, your father's arm wrapped around your mother's waist. She towered over him with her lithe frame, his head just reaching her collarbones. "Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad."

"Bye, sweetheart!" your mother called, her voice as sunny as ever.

"Have a good day, little love," your father added, giving you one last smile before you followed your brother out the door.

The cool morning air hit you as your brother led the way down the sidewalk, his usual confident stride carrying you both towards the train station.

You glanced over at him, watching as he talked animatedly, his hands moving to emphasize whatever point he was making. He was always like this—full of energy, especially in the mornings, unlike you, who was still trying to wake up.

As you both settled into your seats on the train, your brother continued to talk, his voice carrying over the quiet hum of the train. He was telling you all about his third year at Shiketsu High, his eyes sparkling as he described how different and fast-paced everything was compared to the previous year.

He even started rambling about his work-study with Fatgum, who he mentioned was an alumnus of Shiketsu High, and his fellow collegues, some guys named Suneater and Red Riot.

You glanced at your brother as he spoke, taking in his features. He looked like a perfect mix of both your parents.

His hair was a blend of your mother's bright pink and your father's deep blue, swirling together like cotton candy, giving him a vibrant and almost ethereal look.

His eyes were a mesmerizing combination of green and yellow—a galaxy of colors that seemed to shift with his mood, as if reflecting the emotions he felt around him.

Scattered across the bridge of his nose were luminescent, opal-like freckles, glowing faintly in the light as he spoke. They weren't just decorative; they were part of his Quirk, Emotilink—which was inherited from your mother—would glow and shift in color depending on the emotions of those he touched, allowing him to feel the emotions of others.

Together, their abilities made them almost like human mood rings, their markings betraying the emotional states of anyone in their vicinity.

Your brother was tall and broad-shouldered, his husky build making him seem both strong and comforting. His skin tone was a perfect, ambiguous shade—not quite pale, not quite dark—striking a balance that made him stand out without fitting neatly into any one category.

He carried himself with a confidence that only seemed to amplify the presence of his quirk, his luminescent markings always a glowing reminder of what he could do.

You, on the other hand, looked nothing like the rest of your family.

When you were younger, you'd had your mother's yellow eyes and your father's blue hair. But after your Quirk had manifested, everything about you seemed to change.

Your features had shifted, becoming more subdued, less distinct, until you were left with an appearance that could only be described as forgettable. Your hair had dulled to a mousy brown, and your eyes had lost their vibrancy, now a muted shade that seemed to blend in with the rest of you.

Sometimes you wished your Quirk was just that—forgettableness. Maybe then you wouldn't feel the weight of everyone else's emotions pressing down on you.

You were pulled from your thoughts when your brother grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but gentle as he pulled you up from your seat. "Let's go," he said, his voice filled with his usual enthusiasm.

You barely had time to react before he was practically dragging you out of the train and towards the school.

It was a routine you were used to by now—your brother carrying you along, making sure you got where you needed to be without any issue.

He didn't even break a sweat as he deposited you in front of the school gates, his hands moving to smooth out your clothes and pat down your hair, completely uncaring of the looks you both were getting from the other students.

"Aaand... there!" he said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. He handed you your backpack, his grin widening. "Alright, sleepyhead, I'll meet you here after school to take you to Dad's agency, okay?"

You nodded, adjusting the straps of your backpack. "Yeah, okay," you replied, your voice barely louder than a mumble.

He bent down, staring you right in the face with a grin. "Have a great day, alright?" he said, his eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. He reached out, ruffling your hair one last time before turning to head towards his own school. "See ya later!"

You watched him go, a sigh escaping your lips as you turned to face the school. You never really understood why he insisted on taking you to school every morning, especially when his own school was a twenty-minute walk in the opposite direction.

But then again, he'd managed to maintain perfect attendance for the past two years, so he must have been doing something right.

With another sigh, you pulled out your headphones, hoping that maybe—just maybe—they would be enough to keep people away today. You knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

As you walked through the gates and into the bustling courtyard, you could already feel the familiar pull—the curious eyes, the hesitant glances, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

You pushed your headphones over your ears, the music drowning out the noise around you, but it wasn't enough.

It never was.

You stayed behind in the classroom during lunch, deciding to give yourself a break from the constant buzz of students. The cafeteria was always too loud, too busy, and you needed a moment to just be alone.

You pulled out a packet of fries you had bought earlier, munching on them absentmindedly while staring out of the window. The clouds rolled lazily across the sky, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to drift off, letting the quiet calm your racing mind.

You were jolted out of your thoughts when you heard your name being called. You turned, startled, to see your homeroom teacher hovering near the doorway. "____," she called again, her voice soft but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Your teacher, Ms. Hachiko, was hard to miss. She had a distinctly bee-like appearance, with large, round eyes that shimmered like polished onyx, and her entire body was covered in soft, fuzzy yellow fur.

Two delicate antennae sprouted from her forehead, and her long hair was pinned back into a neat bun. She floated a few inches off the ground, her wings fluttering quietly behind her.

But it wasn't just her that caught your attention. Standing behind her, with his shoulders slouched and an unmistakable frown etched across his face, was none other than Aizawa Shouta—the underground hero, Eraserhead.

You felt your eyes widen, and you choked on the fry you had just been eating, your throat seizing in shock. You coughed, hitting your chest several times as tears welled up in your eyes.

Both adults stood there, awkwardly waiting as you hacked out a few more coughs. When you finally managed to catch your breath, Ms. Hachiko gave you an apologetic smile. "____, you need to speak with Eraserhead here," she said, her antennae twitching slightly. "I'll leave you two to it," she added before fluttering out of the room, her wings buzzing softly.

You were left alone with Aizawa, who ambled over to the desk beside you and dropped himself into the seat, his tired eyes fixed on you.

He was wearing his hero uniform, his capture weapon loosely wrapped around his neck, and his dark hair hung messily around his face. He looked exhausted, deep lines etched beneath his eyes, but even then, there was something undeniably striking about him. He had an air of quiet authority that demanded respect, no matter how disheveled he appeared.

He stared at you for a moment before finally speaking. "Look, kid, I'm not sure why Nezu sent me here," he began, his tone blunt, "but apparently, you're needed for something. Honestly, you're a child, and you shouldn't even be involved in this. But here we are."

You blinked at him, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that thee Eraserhead was sitting in front of you, talking to you. He let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Have you heard about the recent villain attack on the UA first-year training camp?"

You nodded slowly, recalling the news you had heard about it weeks ago. You remembered hearing that it was the same group of first-year students that had already had a run-in with villains at the USJ. "Yeah, I heard about it," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "They got some crappy luck..."

Aizawa gave a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, it's been rough on them, that's for sure. The thing is, my boss, Principal Nezu, wants you to help the students who were most affected by the attack—Class 1-A. The other students have been able to get help from their assigned therapists, but Class 1-A... they're different. They've built a wall around themselves so thick that not even the best world-renowned therapists can break through. They think this is just part of being a hero, that they have to suck it up and move on."

You frowned, a slight pang of pity tugging at you as you listened. You knew what he was asking before he even finished explaining. It wasn't like you had a choice anyway. If Nezu, the head of UA, was asking, then your small, out-of-the-way school, Okiyama Municipal High, wasn't exactly in a position to say no.

With a heavy sigh, you slumped back in your chair, dropping your half-eaten packet of fries onto the desk. "Will I be back before school is over?"

Aizawa rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed with your lack of enthusiasm. "Yes, you'll be back before the end of the day. Nezu already spoke with your parents. One of your father's sidekicks will pick you up from UA bring you straight to his agency. It shouldn't take too long—you're just meeting them and getting a quick assessment."

Shoulders slouching, you could already picture the long, draining night ahead of you. With a resigned sigh, you pushed yourself out of your seat, nodding reluctantly. "Alright, fine," you muttered, gesturing for Aizawa to lead the way. "Let's get this over with, then."

Aizawa gave you a curt nod, standing up as well. You followed him down the hallway, the silence between you two heavy but not uncomfortable.

It wasn't long before you were out of your small school building and on your way to UA, sitting beside the underground hero in a rather unremarkable car, driven by a UA staff member.

You were about to meet the students who had faced villains twice now, and you knew that whatever you were walking into, it wasn't going to be easy.

When you arrived at UA, the sight that greeted you was different from what you remembered. You had been to UA before, a few years ago when your brother brought you along during his campus tour while deciding where to attend high school.

Back then, UA had been impressive, sure, but now it looked almost like a university campus—new dormitories and additional buildings scattered across the grounds, giving it the appearance of a bustling college rather than just a high school.

Noticing your confused expression, Aizawa spoke up, his voice gruff but explanatory. "After the training camp attack, UA opened up dormitories to house students. Villains have become more audacious lately, targeting students even outside school grounds. The dorms are an extra precaution, meant to keep them safe."

You nodded, taking in the new structures as Aizawa led you through the campus. It made sense, given how much had happened to these students already. You felt a small pang of sympathy for them—it couldn't be easy, constantly looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next attack.

Eventually, you arrived at one of the dorm buildings, and Aizawa opened the door, ushering you inside.

You stepped into a spacious common area, expecting to see a dozen traumatized, weary teens gathered together. Instead, there were just two people sitting on the couch, their attention fixed on the television in front of them.

The room was warm and cozy, a stark contrast to the tension you felt brewing inside you.

The moment the door opened, both heads snapped towards you, their bodies relaxing slightly when they realized it was Aizawa. The redhead sitting closest to the door smiled brightly, while the blonde beside him scowled, his eyes narrowing.

"Kirishima," Aizawa grunted, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation, "where is everyone?"

The redhead—Kirishima, you assumed—grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, some of them went out shopping, Sensei. And Deku and Shoto are out training."

Aizawa let out a long-suffering sigh, rubbing his forehead as if trying to stave off a headache. "I thought I told you all to stay put because you had an important visitor coming."

The blonde on the sofa snorted, his voice dripping with irritation. "What important guest, Sensei? Don't tell me it's that pipsqueak over there," he said, jerking his head in your direction.

You blinked, taken aback for a moment before letting out an affronted scoff. "Pipsqueak? I have you know, I'm taller than average," you sniffed, crossing your arms defensively.

The blonde gave you a withering look, scoffing again. "In what? Middle schoolers?"

Before you could retort, Aizawa intervened, his tired eyes narrowing at the blonde. "Bakugo, stop," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned back to you, his expression softening slightly. "I was told to bring you here, so even though not all of them are here, you've got two clients. Have fun," he said, giving you a small wave over his shoulder as he left the room.

You stared after him, your stomach sinking slightly. "Clients?" Kirishima asked, tilting his head in confusion as he looked at you.

You forced a smile, feeling awkward under their curious gazes. "Uh, yeah. I'm here to... help you guys. I guess you could say I'm kind of like a counselor," you explained, scratching the back of your head.

Kirishima's eyes widened in surprise before his expression broke out into a wide grin. He jumped up from the couch, crossing the room in a few quick strides to extend his hand to you. "Well, that's super manly! So young, yet already helping people like this. I'm Kirishima Eijiro," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

You took his hand, shaking it a bit hesitantly. His grip was strong but friendly, and you couldn't help but notice the small details about him—his bright red spiky hair, the way his eyes seemed so genuine and open, the muscular build that made it clear he took his training seriously.

There was an energy about him that reminded you of your brother—that same relentless positivity.

Lord, it seemed you had found someone who could give your brother a run for his money.

"I'm Hanabira ____," you replied, your voice a bit more steady now.

The moment your name left your mouth, Eijiro's eyes widened even further, and he let out a gasp. "No way! You’re The Emotional Hero: Emberpulse's sibling?!"

You blinked, taken aback. "Uh, yeah?"

Eijiro's grin grew impossibly wider as he continued, "Your brother talks about you all the time! It's like I practically know you already. He says you're always helping people out, even when it's not easy, and that you have this way of making everyone feel better just by being around."

You raised an eyebrow, a bit skeptical. "How did you even know? Our last name isn't exactly unique, and we don't look alike at all."

Eijiro blinked, then broke out into another grin, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know, honestly. Your brother just said you gave off this aura of immediate kindness. Like, you just have this energy that makes people feel safe, you know? So when you introduced yourself, it kind of clicked."

A gruff voice cut in before you could respond. "Only you would make such a dumbass connection, Shitty-Hair," the blonde from earlier muttered, standing up from the couch. He turned to face you, his intense eyes boring into yours.

He had a scowl permanently etched onto his face, his posture confident and almost confrontational. His blond hair was unruly, and you couldn't help but notice the small, almost imperceptible twitches of annoyance in his expression—like he was constantly teetering on the edge of irritation.

Eijiro just laughed, seemingly unaffected by the insult. "That's Bakugo Katsuki, my best friend," he said, gesturing to the blonde. Katsuki sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes but not bothering to say anything further.

Eijiro turned back to you, his expression softening slightly. "So, uh, what exactly are you here for?"

You sighed, holding your hands up. "Like Aizawa-san said, I'm here to help, but it's not exactly like I'm a therapist or anything. I didn't ask to be here either," you said, your tone a bit defensive.

Katsuki scoffed, crossing his arms. "We don't need a damn therapist," he muttered, clearly unimpressed.

You gave him a flat look, deciding not to engage in an argument. Eijiro, sensing the tension, quickly stepped in. "Hey, don't mind him. He's just... like that," he said, scratching his head awkwardly. "Uh, would you like to join us? We were just watching a movie."

You shrugged, figuring you might as well. "Sure," you said, trying to sound casual.

Internally, you figured it was better to stay and at least try to connect with them, given that the rest of the students weren't even there. Plus, Katsuki seemed like he'd be impossible to talk to seriously right now.

The three of you settled on the couch, and Eijiro quickly started chatting again, asking you questions about your brother, your Quirk, and your school. He leaned in a bit closer whenever you answered, his eyes bright with curiosity and genuine interest.

You could tell he was trying to understand you better, his questions growing more specific as the conversation progressed.

At one point, he asked about your brother's favorite hobby, sharing how they had bonded during training sessions over their shared love of working out.

"You know, your brother's kind of like a legend," Eijiro said, his eyes wide with admiration. "I know I already told you, but he always talks about you, and I was really excited to finally meet you. He says you're his biggest inspiration."

You felt a warmth spread across your chest—a mix of pride and embarrassment. You gave a small smile, shrugging. "He always exaggerates. I'm really not that special."

Eijiro shook his head vigorously, his red hair bouncing slightly. "No way! I can totally see it. You've got this calming vibe. It's like... you make everything seem a little less scary, you know?" His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and you could feel a slight buzz in the back of your mind—a familiar haze that signaled your Quirk almost activating.

You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of your body language, realizing that your posture had subtly shifted to mirror Eijiro's, your smile matching his intensity.

Quickly, you broke eye contact, focusing on Katsuki instead, who was watching the interaction with an annoyed expression.

He caught your gaze, and his scowl deepened. "Don't let Shitty-Hair butter you up. He's got a habit of getting all sentimental," Katsuki muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Eijiro laughed, giving Katsuki a playful nudge. "Aw, come on, Bakugo. Just trying to make our guest feel welcome."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite behind his irritation. "Yeah, whatever. Just don't go crying on us, idiot."

The conversation shifted, and Eijiro asked more about your school life. You found yourself relaxing again, the haze receding as you focused on answering his questions.

He seemed genuinely fascinated by even the mundane details—how you spent your days, what subjects you liked, even your least favorite lunch options. There was a warmth in his attention, a genuine desire to know you, that made it easy to keep talking.

Time seemed to pass quicker than you expected, and even Katsuki, though gruff and standoffish, eventually chimed in with a few sarcastic comments.

You noticed that, despite his harsh words, he never actually dismissed anything you said. It was as if he begrudgingly accepted your presence, though he made sure to keep up his rough exterior.

At one point, Eijiro nudged you lightly with his elbow, a grin on his face. "You know, I think you and Bakugo would get along great if you gave it a shot. He acts tough, but he's got a good heart. Right, Explosion Boy?"

Katsuki's glare could have cut glass. "Don't drag me into your dumb ideas, Shitty-Hair," he snapped, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks, barely noticeable.

Eijiro just laughed again, unbothered, and you couldn't help but smile. It was strange, but you found yourself feeling a sense of comfort in their dynamic—like, despite their differences, they had a bond that was hard to break.

After what felt like a couple of hours or so, there was a knock at the dorm door. Aizawa entered, followed by one of your father's sidekicks, who gave you a nod. "Time to go," the sidekick said, their voice gentle but firm.

You stood up, giving Eijiro a small wave. "I guess I’ll see you around," you said.

Eijiro grinned, giving you a thumbs-up. "For sure! And thanks for coming by, ____. It was... nice."

You nodded, turning to follow Aizawa and the sidekick out of the dorms.

The ride to your father's agency was quiet, your mind still replaying the interactions you had just had. You found yourself mentally sorting through the profiles you had unconsciously built on both Eijiro and Katsuki so far.

Eijiro was enthusiastic, open, and incredibly genuine—his positivity seemed almost endless, and you could tell he was the kind of person who made it his mission to uplift others.

He had this earnestness that made you feel at ease, like he genuinely cared about the people around him. He was always leaning in, listening intently, and his questions showed just how interested he was in knowing you.

There was something infectious about his energy, and it reminded you so much of your brother—the way they both could fill a room with warmth just by being themselves.

Katsuki, on the other hand, was more of a closed book. He was gruff, blunt, and had an intensity that made it hard to know what he was really thinking.

Yet, underneath all of that, you could see small glimpses of something else—his scowl wasn't always as sharp as he wanted it to be, and he had moments where it felt like he begrudgingly accepted your presence.

He never outright dismissed you, and while his comments were sarcastic, they didn't carry the kind of malice you might have expected.

It was almost like he was challenging you to see past the tough exterior, to prove that you could handle being around him.

When you arrived, your father was waiting for you, his expression stern.

He grabbed your arm, his eyes serious as he looked at you. "Listen carefully," he said, his voice low. "The villain you're about to interact with is dangerous. He was part of the Vanguard Action Squad—Mustard. He's unpredictable, so I need you to be cautious. Understand?"

You swallowed, nodding. "Got it, Dad."

He gave you a small, almost reluctant smile, his grip on your arm loosening. "Good. Just... be careful, alright, little love?"

You nodded again, feeling the weight of what was about to come settle heavily in your chest.

This was just another part of your Quirk, another responsibility you had to shoulder—whether you wanted to or not.

A/N: so what's the verdit? will it be good as a fic or just do a one-shot series???

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balrogballs · 9 days ago

Text

The Clean Break

a little take on Aragorn and Elrond’s final meeting, a removed scene from Cast in Stone (no context required; it’s canon compliant) that I liked too much to toss.

Aragorn was Estel when he broke his wrist, somewhere between five and six years old. It was a perfectly ordinary break, which happened for a perfectly ordinary reason: he had been running about on a wet floor, slipped, and crashed over a threshold. Elladan and Elrohir had come running at his wails, picked him up and took him to Elrond.

He remembers how Elrond explained to him that it was a clean break, and a very small one — it would stop hurting in a few days if he kept it still. The twins, those ardent connoisseurs of broken bones, had kept up a steady stream of joking patter to distract him whilst their father slowly applied a pain-relieving poultice and began to wrap up the wound.

Estel had been sobbing and sobbing, regardless of how mild the injury truly was. He was only five years old, and was more frightened than hurt, because he had never broken a bone in his life and he did not understand what everyone was doing, did not understand why his arm was being covered in white cloth, and it did hurt quite a lot, so he wailed.

And at some point in the process, he remembers looking up and realising that his father was crying too. Elrond hadn't made a sound, but his cheeks were awash in silent, indecipherable tears. Aragorn remembers how his expression didn't change at all, blank and beautiful in the white afternoon light: wrought from stone like a weeping statue, a quiet miracle, a promise of faith.

He remembers Elladan's tense, barked-out "Ada! What is it? What is wrong? You said it’s a clean break!"

And Aragorn remembers how Elrond had sat back on his heels and smiled, the motion pulling his features back into familiar lines. He remembers sitting silently, watching the last tears fall down the marble face, as Elrond said: "hush, my boy, you will scare Estel. Nothing is wrong, it is only a clean break. He will be fine tomorrow."

"Then why are you in tears?" Elrohir had asked, equally worried.

"Oh dear, am I? Aha, I am. Truly, it is only because he is," Elrond admitted sheepishly, sniffing. He had stroked a lock of hair back from Estel's face, laughing self-consciously, and his voice shook only a little. "I hate seeing him in pain. It breaks my heart seeing him cry so ceaselessly, even for such a small cause. It is only that, Elrohir, do not worry."

At the time, the twins had laughed, teased their father for his softness as they often did, made so many jokes about it that even little Estel, who didn't really understand the fuss and at the time had just probably assumed Elrond had a broken wrist too, was laughing alongside the three of them for absolutely no reason at all. It was casual, domestic, completely ordinary and commonplace as far as his childhood went: there were funnier incidents, sadder scenes, happier conversations.

But for some reason, this one is Aragorn's first real memory. The day he broke his wrist is the scaffolding he built his life atop, the day he looked at his father and found something sacred within him.

________

"I thought for a very long time," Aragorn says, on the tallest tower in Minas Tirith, their final meeting. "About what I could give you as a parting gift."

"If it is anything extravagant," Elrond warns him, raising a finger. "You know as well as I that I will take it to mean you are offering me a bride price, and I will take deep offence."

Aragorn grins, winks: "it's actually less than worthless, financially speaking" and cackles at how Elrond actually looks somehow more offended at that option.

"And what is this less than worthless thing you are donating to the one who raised you all your life?" he raises his eyebrows, a smile playing on his lips. "What castoff hand-me-down do you deign to bestow me with?”

"I know you must be weary of rings," Aragorn gestures at Vilya, winking away on Elrond's finger. "But perhaps this one may restore your faith in them."

"I am of a race that thinks nothing: jewels, lives, wars, is eternal," he continues, hair drifting over his face. "Of an old jewelry box my mother had, many trinkets were lost to time, some earrings were without a pair. And such loss of heirlooms never grieved us. After all, they were not ours to grieve."

"The oddest thing in the box was an old, battered golden ring. When I was first given the collection, I was only twenty yet already that ring was far too small for me. I thought that it belonged to a petite woman, perhaps a sister or a mother. Yet more recently, I was thinking of it and it confused me — why would a noblewoman own a cheap, plain ring? The other stones in the box were all precious, valuable, true heirlooms. When my mother died, she told me to pass them on to my children, and I will: but with this ring, I intend to disobey her."

"It was only some weeks ago, as Arwen showed me her own rings, that I realised something," said Aragorn, fishing around in his collar. "That this trinket I carry was no woman's ring, it was made to be worn by a child. You had given me one of these too, if you recall, as per tradition — on my sixth begetting day, a flat gold ring like this with my name carved into the inside. That was when I looked closer at this one, at the inscription on the inside of its hollow."

He unfastens the clasp on the chain, slips a small ring into Elrond's palm. He watches as all the blood leaves the elf's face only to be replaced by a harsh, terrible expression.

"Nothing is eternal, Ada," repeats Aragorn. "But some things should be."

"You are — you are giving me this?" Elrond's voice is strangled, eyes wide. "It —"

"I am. It is not mine to grieve."

Elrond does not say a word, does not even look at Aragorn, instead turning away and walking towards the far side of the balcony where he stood silently, ring clutched tightly in a shaking fist. Aragorn allows him to hold on to dignity.

Dignity, and a small, burnished gold ring.

It was rather battered, some of the plating rubbed off, a groove carved into it from all the times its owner tied it to a string and used it to tease cats with. It had a small dent in the frame, warping it slightly, and if you looked closely you could make out a little tooth mark, as though someone had a habit of gnawing at it. It was less valuable heirloom, more solid proof that the ancient king Elros Tar-Minyatur of Numenor, had once been a messy, careless little boy.

A few minutes pass, in which neither of them speak.

"I had nothing of him," Elrond tells him quietly after a while. "All my life, I had nothing of him at all. It had felt wrong, you see, sailing off to Numenor and demanding his possessions from his grieving children. So for five thousand years, I had nothing of him."

"But I never told you of him," Elrond's voice is searching, harsh and confused, trying to find a justification for the gift. "I had never told you of him, and yes, you had known of him from your lessons but I had tried so hard never to speak of him to you lest you, for one second, thought that I only loved you because you were the heir of Elros. You had no reason to know how I loved him, how fiercely I missed him, how I had nothing of him at all."

Elrond sounds almost angry, wrenching the words through gritted teeth like a scolding, his back still turned to Aragorn: "who made you so kind, Estel? Who made you so selfless — that you — that you give me this without ever being told — that you thought of it — who made you, boy?"

Elrond is breathing in deep, clarifying breaths and Aragorn stands there silently. He does not answer any of the fevered questions. It was Elrond, after all, who once told him over a chalkboard: stupid questions did not deserve answers.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Ada," says Aragorn at last, when only a sliver of sun is left behind in the sky. "Not for a moment. That is why I had… I had… that is why I had hoped we could have a clean break. I just didn't want to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," Elrond says, half-smiling as he turns back, composed again yet not entirely unruffled. "But I would rather it hurt in such a way, than it not hurt at all."

"Would you?"

"Of course," Elrond tells him, unconsciously running a finger across the flat, golden surface of the ring he had slid onto his smallest finger. "After all, the most treasured things in the world are only so valued because of how debilitatingly painful it would be to lose them."

Aragorn cannot speak. He has dawdled and delayed, pushed this parting to a cliff-edge, given gifts and made jokes, all the while waiting for a clean break that would never come for those who love like the two of them. He walks forward in a daze, and Elrond takes him into his arms and Aragorn is five again — building a life atop the scaffolding of the heart Elrond offered to him.

"I do not know what divinity made you this way," his father's voice is rough as he repeats his earlier question, but it does not break. "I do not know which of the Valar wielded the knife that carved you out of kindness. But I am glad, Estel, so glad that I know you."

Aragorn stays pressed in that embrace, shaking. He fights a sudden, absurd urge to laugh and roll his eyes, to say don't ask stupid questions, to say who made me kind? oh, I don't know, perhaps the one who loved me so wholly that he beheld a five year old's silly, childish tears, and wept that I shed them at all.

Still, he does not move: he does not want to see Elrond's face, does not want to see his own, not at this moment. Time passes, strains like molasses through linen, slowly and with great reluctance. At last, the king draws away and takes in this final image, the one who raised him standing before his son with an inscrutable expression on his face.

When he was younger, Aragorn used to think it might make it easier for his father to bend with the marred world if he learned how to be as cruel as it was, instead of taking each slap in the face as a surprise. But he understands now that whilst he wasn't looking, the marred world had bent itself to Elrond's gentleness; that it is a strength, an honest one, to be kind when the world not only abides by cruelty but insists upon it.

Aragorn cannot bring himself to turn and leave, wanting to brand Elrond’s face into the back of his eyelids with knife-hot tears. It is anything but a clean break.

“I cannot bring myself to turn,” he admits, the moonlight limning the silver in his hair. “Because when I turn, you'll be gone, and it will be the end of everything. Is this the end of everything now, Ada? Are we done now, you and I?"

Elrond smiles, looking at Aragorn in the same way he had always looked at him, every day since the moment he was put in his arms: eyes bright with unconditional adoration, unashamed pride, and a constant, total faith in him. He shakes his head.

"You and I will never be done,” he says softly; resolute. It is the only oath he ever makes.

#lord of the rings #elrond #aragorn #lotr #tolkien #lotr fic

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walkingaftermidnight07 · 1 year ago

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the scene in the marvels where they were rounding up the flerken kittens and putting them in escape pods and eating all of the people was quite silly, but it was just the right amount of silly that had me and my best friend cackling and giggling and kicking our feet

especially the fact that it was overlayed WITH MEMORY FROM CATS???

Like, that is comedic gold. I'm sorry. It is.

#the marvels #the marvels spoilers #carol danvers #captain marvel #ms marvel #kamala khan #monica rambeau

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fictionadventurer · 6 months ago

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Figured if I was going to go on the Snow White rant, I needed to actually rewatch the Disney movie.

The opening credits are much more interesting when you know some of the names. The only women who got on the list were Dorothy and Hazel, but it was nice to see their names at least and know who they were.

That book is gorgeous. All the details of the calligraphy and illustrations and binding.

Wow, the Queen is so much creepier than I remember. The fact that using the magic mirror involves summoning a "slave" trapped in the mirror? Don't like that.

That peacock behind her throne, though? Stunning, fantastic, no notes.

I kind of love how the Queen forces Snow White to be a maid, and Snow White just...doesn't care at all. She's just scrubbing a floor and totally fine. Queen's obsessed with Snow White every minute of the day and Snow White doesn't think about her at all.

Sorry, I don't buy the romance at all. I know it's a fairy tale, but one song does not a life-changing romance make. (There was a version of the scene where the prince was going to rejoice over the fact that she loved him, which might have been too much, but it at least would have helped sell it.)

The scene of Snow running through the forest and then collapsing in tears did make me feel for her.

It seems like Snow White and the Queen are from a completely different movie from the dwarfs. They've got this whole high fantasy feud going on, meanwhile these guys are living in a sitcom.

The dwarfs were the best part. Forgot how cute those guys could be.

There was not enough story here. 75% of the running time is them trying to stretch this paper-thin story to feature length. There's a big long cleaning sequence. A big long sequence of the dwarfs figuring out who invaded their cottage. A big long introduction sequence. A big long washing-up sequence. Multiple extended gags involving a fly. All fun to animate, I'm sure, but not at all up to modern pacing standards.

(I'd kind of like to compare this to other escapist '30s musicals--is this kind of structure common for movies where the point is just to show up and escape the Depression for 90 minutes?)

As a kid, I had one of those sing-a-long videos with a bunch of Disney songs, and I did not realize that I had a deep emotional connection to it until "Heigh-Ho" made me instantly happy and the Silly Song unearthed memories I didn't even know I had.

A lot of the other songs kind of stink, ngl. There's a reason the washing-up song is not in the public consciousness.

Kind of out-of-line for Snow White to just show up at their house and treat them like misbehaving children.

The skeleton in the dungeon reaching for the water pitcher? Can't believe the movie went there.

(Then they drew too much attention to it and kind of wrecked it. But wow.)

I like that they give a valid reason that the Queen thought True Love's Kiss wasn't going to be a problem.

But the queen cackling over the fact that Snow White's going to be buried alive? When it comes to showing this movie to children, I'm not hesitating about Snow White as a female role model, I'm hesitating because it's dark.

(But also--why not just poison her? I get that living death/buried alive is a worse fate than just plain death, but if she's not actually dead, how does the Queen count as fairest in the land? Especially since she magically made herself as ugly as possible?)

They carved her name in the coffin! Just like the bed! They finally get to make her a bed and it's to lay her to rest! It's almost enough to make me tear up.

The castle in the clouds makes me think of heaven/resurrection imagery, which ties in interestingly to my take on it.

There is so much potential to flesh out this story in a live-action version. Since you can't fill up the runtime with comedy dwarf antics, there's so much space to flesh out the relationship between the prince and Snow White, and give texture to the feud between the Queen and Snow White, and to dig deep into Snow's sweet character and how it affects the dwarfs, which is why it stinks that they're going for just another Not Like Other Girls update.

#disney #snow white and the seven dwarfs #snow white #fairy tale retellings

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xxkissesforchanniexx · 8 months ago

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𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐏𝐭 𝟐

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒂 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆... 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

Pairing: Merman!Hyunjin x Human!fem!reader Genre: Angst kinda, Fluff🥰💖, Smut🔥❤️ Word Count: 6k Warnings: Blood, Hyunjin is missing, JYPEeeEe KING OF DA SEEEEAAAAA, challenges for king, memories of sexual scenes >.>, Hyunjin AND the kid have hallucinations, kidnapping..., RANDOM MERMAID CRAP I THOUGHT WAS COOL (heart of the sea, coral palace, etc), reunions, chan becomes king of the sea... i think that's it... sweet sex (not entirely soft...), possessive Hyunjin, JYP dies.... forgive me its for plot.

A/N: Based on this TikTok link to pt 1 AHHHHH THE LONG AWAITED PART 2 i hope you like it <3 changing the formatting of my work and page again soon >.>

"I'm trusting you to take care of them, at least until I get back..."

Chan stared at his friend, "And if you don't?"

Hyunjin sucked in a breath and looked over his shoulder at Chan, "Let her... Make her... Forget me."

"Mommy what's 2 x 2?"

"Why are you worried about multiplication right now? Sugar you can't even add your hundreds place yet." You sighed.

"Uncle Ji said it's important to start early." You child pouted.

"Uncle Ji doesn't know much about math either." You chuckled.

"I second that." Chan laughed.

"Uncle Chan." She looked at the dark haired man, "What's 2 x 2?"

You gave Chan a look.

"I'll teach you another time we should work on addition first, y'know?" The man smiled.

You smiled and looked back at your work, you had been studying a certain type of guppy for just about a month now. A type of guppy that always lingered around Hyunjin's home...

You clenched for fists as you thought about that man, his beautiful sea green eyes, his gorgeous smile, the way he held you.

The doorbell made you look up. "Chan, can you get that?"

"I got it." Chan opened the door to Changbin.

"UNCLE BINNIE!" Your child ran to the short man's arms.

He them up and spun them. "Look at my favorite kid." He smiled, "You ready to go?"

Your child grabbed her bag and dragged it to the door, waving goodbye, "I'll see you in two days Mommy. Bye bye!"

You laughed lightly and waved. "Take came of her Changbin."

"I will." He called back.

You were positive she would be fine when you heard Minho's "I'll watch them both."

You kept to your work until Chan tapped your shoulder, "You're going to die of work. Go out and do something."

"Who are you my dad?" You laughed lightly. "Fine."

You picked up your computer but Chan took it from you. "Go relax... Go for a drive, go out to eat, get your nails done. SOMETHING!"

"FINE!" You huffed, muttering a you put on your shoes and grabbed your car keys.

You drove around town for a bit, looking out at the sea, you parked by the beach and walked to the shore, taking off your shoes and sitting there on the sand.

You watched as the water lapped around your bare feet, remembering sitting here with Hyunjin, who seemed shocked that crabs could be so mean when he didn't appear like a merman. You smiled and gripped the sand between your fingers before reaching up and playing with your sun charm.

You lie back on the sand as you remembered the day you and Hyunjin sat on the beach at night, the moon was full and he was talking about his parents.

"And apparently, my dad was the most romantic guy ever. But I can't be so sure about that now."

You giggled. "Do you think I'll meet your parents?"

He looked at you. "Maybe..."

"Maybe?" You tilted your head at him.

"I'd have to make you my mate first." He smirked.

"You'd bite me?" You laughed. "Like a werewolf?"

He made a face and grabbed your face. "I'd present you to the Mother of the Sea and beg for her blessing. I'd give you all my air..." he looked into your eyes and you felt your face get hot. "And then..." He leaned in close so his lips brushed against your jaw. "I'd give you my seed."

You shoved his face and hid yours in embarrassment as he cackled.

"Is it so bad to you???!" He laughed.

"No just..." You looked at him. "You've already done 1 of those things."

He smirked. "Then let me do it again.." he took your hand into his and kissed your wrist then your arm before moving to your neck.

You blushed deeply as your remember how he'd practically dragged you under the water and done... jiendsjiok Y/n. Focus..."Hyune... Where are you?"

Uncle Changbin and Uncle Minho had taken me around all day, we went to the mall, to the park, then we went to go eat, when we finally got to Minho's place and I went to bed I smiled slightly to myself. Mommy never let me go out often.

It was late, I was staring up at the ceiling, I wonder what Daddy's doing right now... the thought of my father made me smile, I still remembered his pretty face. Mommy used to smile more then. It's been two years if I've done my math right.

I hugged my narwal plushie that he bought me the last time we went to the aquarium together. I closed my eyes and whispered softly, "Mother of Sea... bring my daddy back." And I fell asleep.

Mommy says I got my hyper awareness from Daddy. The soft sound of steps woke me up and I froze. The steps weren't near the door or in the hall. They were in the room.

My eyes focused into the darkness and I glanced around without rolling over. I tried to look like I was sleeping as the steps grew closer, was it a monster? was it the boogey man my friends at school talked about...

"Jazz hands and flash." Daddy's voice came to my mind, I was 4 then and he told me to be careful when I flared my hands out because my claws would appear...

The steps grew closer and I swallowed, should I scream for Uncle Changbin...

I should scream..

The steps were beside my bed now.

The shadow stretched over my bed, moonlight from the window pouring in.

I saw the hand reaching for me.

One...

"Deep breaths.." I sucked in a slow, steady breath.

Two...

"Jazz hands..."

Three...

"FLASH!"

I flared my hands out and my claws connected with a hard substance that made me cry out in pain and pull my hands back. The person grabbed me suddenly and I shrieked.

The door burst open and Uncle Changbin was lunging claws out. Another person flew and slammed him hard into the wall just as Uncle Minho ran for me.

My gaze locked on the corner of the room. There was a woman who looked like my mommy dressed differently, like the olden days.. I was pulled out of my window as my uncles shouted.

Something pricked my arm and then the world went dark.

It was so hot... so hot he couldn't move. The heat crushing him place almost.. He looked up as he heard the door to the chamber open.

"Time to eat." the maid said as she set the food in front of Hyunjin.

He stared at it for a long time and as he reached for it he heard a voice.

It's the food...

And he pulled back, smacking the food away with his tail and shouting. "LET ME GO!"

The maid looked at him for a moment, before she shook her head and walked away.

I struggled for a moment before I heard the voice.. her voice... "Hyunjin... it's almost time."

You stood there in shock. Chan was very quiet. Changbin winced as Jeongin dabbed at the wounds on his neck.

"It was the royal guard." Minho said softly.

You looked at the floor, squeezing your necklace...

"Why would they take her.." Chan finally spoke.

Yongbok twirled his thumbs. "How did they even know she existed?!"

Seungmin sighed. "If it's the royal guard it had to have been a roayl decree."

"HOW WOULD KING JINYOUNG HAVE EVEN KNOWN ABOUT HER THOUGH?!" Jisung shouted. "THEY COULD KILL HER!"

The boys went quiet and Chan said softly. "He's been king for a long time."

The others looked at him.

"Chan what are you thinking.." Seungmin whispered.

Chan sat up straight. "I guess I owe you all an explanation."

If there was ever a merboy King Jinyoung put effort into. That boy would be Chan. That boy who was made to be a model king, his parents were impossibly proud of him for being so close to the king. It was when he was thirteen the king really took him in. Fight like this. Kill humans like that. Humans are evil because of this.

It was when Chan met his friends things became a little different, he was freer, the group following him around as it grew, and Hyunjin... Hyunjin who told Chan first where he got his necklace... who told Chan first he felt drawn to you.. who told Chan first that the child was his.. who trusted his love and daughter to Chan.

And Chan gradually slipped away from the king of the sea. But everyone knew.. from the Arctic to the southern most sea, and all the way back again they all knew the next king of the sea was going to be Chan.

And Chan neglected his duty.

"If we're going to get her," Jisung stared at you. "You need to blend into the sea."

You pursed your lips. "Huh-"

Seungmin hummed and circled you. "An octopus or a sea horse..."

"I think she'd make a good shark woman personally." Minho said.

"I agree." Jeongin seconded.

You made a face. "Why can't I be a pretty mermaid like you guys?"

"Because," Yongbok huffed, "Not all of us look the same." He cleared his throat and glanced at Changbin, "First girlfriend had tentacles."

Changbin shouted. "SHE WAS REALLY PRETTY THOUGH!"

They all shrugged.

"Don't listen to them." Chan sighed. "I have something ready already."

They all looked at Chan.

"Watch him make her some ugly black thing-"

"Betta cross." Chan said, looking you over, "Y/N would look good as a Betta fish with a mix of mandarin... Don't you all agree?"

The boys tilted their heads at you.

"Yes." Minho said.

"Definitely." Changbin smiled.

"She'd look gorgegous." Jisung jumped.

"Stunning." Felix nodded.

Seungmin shrugged.

"I think she'd look really pretty." Jeongin agreed.

"What on earth-" You started but the men practically dragged you to your car and put you in the drivers seat, before crowding in your van.

"Drive." Chan said. "We're going to the beach."

for yall who are wondering this is a betta fish (siamese fighting fish).

Chan stared at the shore. "This brings back memories..." He exhaled slowly.

"It's now or never." Jeongin huffed, taking off his expensive human trinkets and leaving them in your car.

You stared at the sea. "If they hurt my baby. I'll dump plastic."

The boys all blinked at you in shock.

"Gimme the pill." You huffed.

Chan cleared his throat and put the pill in your hand.

The boys jumped into the water one by one and you watched as they swam away, clothes washing up to the shore.

You looked at Chan who tilted his head to the water, "After you."

You sucked in a breath and jumped into the water, shoving the pill into your mouth and gasping, watching the bubbles float to the surface before you tried to move you legs. You looked down and shrieked.

Jisung and Seungmin snickered at your reaction.

Yongbok swam around happily. "YOU'RE SO PRETTY!"

You looked at them. Chan dove into the water and you turned away as his legs became one and when you looked back, there was a dark blue tail.

He smiled. "The look suits you..."

You looked down at the big tail, sparkling scales and pretty frills waving and wafting in the current. Hyunjin would've thought it was so gorgeous..

You exhaled. "Lets go."

You followed the boys deep into the water, the coral grew larger, then you saw another merman swim by. Your eyes widened at the sight of a more merpeople, the boys weren't lying, they were all built differently. Some with octopus arms and others with shark teeth.

You pursed your lips as a merman with a striped tail in gold, brown, and black like a lionfish..

Jeongin nudged you. "He's venomous.."

You blinked a few times and nodded. "Noted."

You felt like the merpeople you passed were staring at you and suddenly you forgot how to work your tail. Could they tell you were human..?

Jisung turned and grabbed you, dragging you after the rest of the group. "You're pretty, like.. top tier mermaid princess kind of pretty.." He smiled. "It's natural for them to stare. They'd think the mother of the sea blessed you with her beauty."

You tried to assure yourself that they couldn't tell you were human.

Chan swam towards a huge rock structure and smiled at you. "The person in here is trustworthy." He motioned for you to enter.

You saw a very pretty mermaid with big black eyes her tail was gold and yellow with black spots and there was spines all over it.

"Chan... who is this pretty girl and why is this the first time I'm meeting her?" She circled you a few times and her tail swished happily. "Is she a model for me?"

"Rin-" Chan started but the mermaid lifted your arms and started using a length of something to measure you.

"Rin she's-" Seungmin tried.

"I have just the thing for you darling!" She started running off to get something but Chan grabbed her arm and dragged her back.

"She's human!" He whispered shouted.

Rin's eyes widened. "This is Hyunjin's.."

The boys nodded.

She smiled at you, much calmer than before. "I'm Rin, I'm glad to finally meet you."

"Rin." Yongbok said, "Did the royal guard bring a little human girl through?"

"They did actually." She sighed. "While you were gone King Jinyoung said he'd found the Heart of the Sea."

Chan's eyes widened. "What?"

"It's encased in something, they say the girl is the key to opening it." She looked at you. "That girl is your daughter isn't she?"

You nodded and took a few breaths trying to collect yourself.

Changbin took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Can you keep her h-"

"No!" You snapped, pulling away from Changbin. "I'm not staying when some 500 year old man kidnapped my daughter! No! I'm going with you!"

Chan pursed his lips. "Please... Y/N-"

"I'm going and you can't stop me." You touched your face as something behind your ears flared.

Minho hummed. "She's still pretty while she's angry."

"Fine." Chan sighed. "Hands up."

You put your hands up and he flared his hands before baring his nails at you. You jumped back on instinct as his claws appeared.

"Do it." He glared at you. "If you can't, you can't come with us."

You shrank under his condescending gaze.

"Well?" Chan raised a brow at you.

Rin swam between you two. "You're scaring her Chan."

"Stay." He told you.

"Chan that isn't fair to her-" Rin started.

"Yea-" Jeongin started.

The appendages behind Chan's ears flared and he shouted. "She stays. That's final."

The boys and Rin all went quiet.

"Let's go." Chan huffed, swimming out.

The boys looked at you and swam after him, Yongbok smiled at you. "We'll get her back.."

Hyunjin tugged at the chains. He pulled and pulled until his wrists went raw.

"Food time." the maid entered and the heat from the bubbling hydrothermal vents calmed somewhat.

Hyunjin looked at her. "What's happening up there... It's loud."

"The king has found the key to the Heart of the Sea. The sacrifice is in two days time." She said as she set the food down. "I suggest you stop struggling, by the time you get out that half human brat will be dead."

Hyunjin's eyes widened. "If you scum touch her-" Hyunjin tuggd at his chains with all his might and he felt them shift in the sand.

"What will you do?" a voice said behind the maid.

She quickly bowed and excused herself.

Jinyoung stared down at Hyunjin. "I'm going to restore the Merman empire. And when I do, merpeople like you will stop existing."

Hyunjin's eyes narrowed. "You're a monster."

"A monster who cares for his people. And if I have to kill a few humans to reach my goal... So be it."

Hyunjin tore from his chains and vaulted for Jinyoung.

The older merman was stronger than he looked, throwing Hyunjin hard against the rock of the dungeon.

Hyunjin's vision blurred as he slumped to the floor. He saw a luminescent something before he felt the sting and his vision went dark.

Jinyoung stared at the almost diamond casing of the heart of the sea. He looked at the child sleeping in the bubble, it resembled Hyunjin so much.

He held the dagger Chan and his friends had recovered. This was for his people..

"Your highness." a servant entered and bowed, "Chan is here."

"Send him in." Jinyoung covered the child with the seaweed curtains and turned as Chan entered the room.

"My king." Chan bowed.

"Chan, please."

Chan looked up and locked eyes with him. "It's been almost two years since Hyunjin disappeared..."

"A tragedy really." Jinyoung swam to the wall of his study and traced the shelf.

"He had a lover." Chan said softly. "A lover I promised to protect.. and he had a child a child I'd give my life for."

Jinyoung turned eyes wide, the appendages behind his ears flaring. "That half human bastard child!"

"She is not a bastard child!" Chan's eyes narrowed. "In 2 days the moon will be full and at its strongest, the tides low, the fish will move for the coast. The Coral Palace will be accessible. If we have the Heart of the Sea."

"So what?" Jinyoung glared at Chan... This boy can't read through me.

"The Mother of the Sea blesses one. One person to harness the Heart of the Sea." Chan looked at the seaweed curtain, "And Hyunjin's daughter is missing."

"What' the point of all this? You want me to search for a mista-"

"No." Chan moved so fast, Jinyoung barely saw him before Chan's claws were at his throat. "I challenge you."

"Chan!" Minho and Yongbok came around the corner just in time to see it. Their eyes went wide.

"Park Jinyoung. I, Bang Christopher Chan, challenge you to be King of the Sea." Chan said coldly.

Jinyoung stared at him for a long moment. "I accept.."

You sat with Rin talking about the quality of her clothes.

"But really..." she sighed looking at you. "You shouldn't mind it."

"Don't mind what?" You raised a brow.

"How Chan talks to you..."

You looked at her. "Of course I shou-"

"Chan is going to be the next king one day. Simply by being in contact with you, he's risking his future." She said quietly. "By hiding the secret about your daughter for so long... He's risking his life."

Your eyes widened slightly. "So.."

"He's mean sometimes but it's because he cares.." she smiled, "So don't let that get to you."

You nodded, looking at your hands. "I'm just worried about C/n.. and Hyunjin.."

Rin smiled and took your hand in hers. "It'll be okay..."

She spoke too soon.

"RIN!" Minho entered the coral building with such speed he was dragging bubbled behind him, eyes wide and frantic with fear. "Chan challenged the king!"

He opened his eyes again... he felt so tired.. His sea green eyes looked over the hydrothermal vents and he tugged at his chains. He'd broken free before.. why couldn't he now?

He felt something.. something.

Turn. Hyunjin turn your damn head. He turned his head with so much effort and he saw it. The jellyfish that had stung him. He sucked in a breath and exhaled, how the hell did he let this happen.

"SHIT!" He shouted as he realized what would happen. He pulled at his chains. Y/N, C/N, Chan, Changbin, Yongbok, Jeongin EVERYONE!

Hyunjin pulled at the chains one last time before giving up.

He sank to the floor and grit his teeth as he remembered the last time he'd seen you.

"You'll come back right?" You looked up at him with the saddest look in your eyes.

"Of course I'll come back.. when haven't I?"

And how you'd kissed him as if it was the last time you ever would.

Hyunjin screamed and pulled at the chains again, he looked up at a little ball of light in the distance and somehow he saw you... No.. not you.. but you.. dressed in something so much like the old days hundreds of years ago.

"The Heart of the Sea is here... it's been waiting on you."

By the time you got to the arena area Chan was in the sand, the man he was fighting, who you assumed was Jinyoung, was beating the crap out of him. The other people watched with sad expressions as Chan got punched again..

You swam to the closest place you could to see. "CHAN!"

Minho tried to move over the coral railing as King Jinyoung's claws emerged, but Changbin held him back.

"He's going to kill him!" You shouted.

Jisung grabbed you around your waist and held you back. "That's how the challenge works... the one who lives is king..."

You stared with wide scared eyes as blood swirled into the water. "Chan.."

You tried to pull away from Jisung as Jinyoung released Chan and stood straight. Chan lie there in the sand, blood curling up into the water. Was he dead... Chan... dead?

Something in you snapped and you tore from Jisung's arms with alarming force.

This man. This King of the Sea. He'd kidnapped your daughter. He'd destroyed your peace. He'd forced Hyunjin to go back to the ocean. He'd hurt Chan.

You tore through the water, seeing red, you felt numb. There was nothing but this Jinyoung. This monster.

You raised your hands on instinct and felt your nails shifting on your skin before you really saw red. Your barbed claws buried themselves in Jinyoung's chest just as the royal guards swam for you, just as Chan sprung back up, just as the crowd screamed and a messenger shouted over the arena... "THE SEA DEVIL IS FREE!"

Hyunjin woke up in a bed. It wasn't soft by any means but he wasn't complaining, a familiar warmth was pressed to his chest and he smiled as he held her tighter pressing his nose against he head, the familiar scent filled his nostrils.

He opened his an eye and smiled at you. He barely noticed the sheets looked different.. how strange they felt, he heard something and tensed.

"What is it?" You looked up at him.

"Nothing.." He lied. "Go back to sleep." He got up from the bed, and stepped on to wood flooring. His brows furrowed as he realized... this floor wasn't the one in your house.

He went to the door and felt something looming over it as he opened the door and walked into the hall, the chairs in different rooms looked old... and he saw it... a baby crib... His eyes widened, that wasn't..

The sound of the front door opening made him turn with such speed he could have cracked his neck.

"The oceanic beast is here!" Someone shouted.

Hyunjin turned to run back to your bedroom but someone grabbed him and he shouted, "Y/N!"

He heard you scream as you were dragged from your bedroom.

Hyunjin saw red and before he could stop himself he spun from the people holding him and slashed their throats, Lunging for the men holding you. Heavy metal chains fell around him and he was pulled back baring his claws.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

And Hyunjin stopped struggling.

He let the people drag him away...

From where he was chained in the village square he'd seen you multiple times, but you were always with someone, they always kept you away... and one night he heard something and looked up.

The moon was full and he saw his people storming the village..

You came running to him, and as you tried to unshackle his chains he stared with wide eyes as a long dagger, tore through you. "Y/N!"

Your grip on his chains slackened and Hyunjin tore away from where he was held about to lunge for the person but he froze. It was a boy... a merboy, no older than 16.

"Human devils and Sea devils are the banes of this world. You should die!" The boy shouted.

And as he opened his mouth to shout a human sword ran him through.

"You can't let the past repeat itself..."

He looked up at you. Or what looked like you.

"You have to go now..."

"But-"

"Hyunjin..." You leaned to him and kissed him gently. "Give me your air."

Hyunjin screamed and tore his chains from the ground, swimming to the stalactite edge of his enclosure and pounding on it before he slammed into it and the rock crumpled. He swam up frantically towards light, and surfaced in the remnants of the Coral Palace.

He stared around for a long time. Then his ear appendages twitched and he turned in the direction of the New Palace.

Jinyoung held his chest and stumbled back. His eyes widening at the sight of you. "HUMAN!"

The crowd gasped and Chan stood in front of you, defensively, "She's trustworthy-"

"NO HUMAN IS TRUSTWORTHY! ARREST HER!"

"Your highness, the moon-" A frantic servant tried to say but Jinyoung pushed him aside and swam for the palace.

Guards circled you and Chan as the others tried to get to you and the crowd began to panic.

"UP!" Chan grabbed you and slammed his tail hard, sending you shooting upwards before he released you and began to swim as fast as he could.

You followed before you looked back. "I can't.."

Chan looked at you. "Y/n! We need to go!"

"Chan..." You breathed before turning back to the palace. "She's all I have."

Before he could stop you, you swam around the guards and followed Jinyoung into the palace. You followed the merman as he swerved through the palace and then you finally caught up to him as he stopped in front of a seaweed curtain.

"JINYOUNG!"

He pulled out a bubbled and turned to you. Inside the bubble was.. your daughter..

The artifact Hyunjin had stolen from the museum in his other hand. "With this dagger... Mother of the Sea... Bless the Heart! And devour Man."

You screamed as he raised the dagger. "NO!" You swam for him but something was faster, grabbing Jinyoung and slashing his face. He dropped the bubble and you dove for it. Looking up, you stared in shock at the familiar figure. "Hyunjin.."

"You want the heart..." he said lowly, raking his claw over his palm, blood coiled from the wound into the water as Hyunjin grabbed a crystal locked object.

You stared at it. Jin-young sprang up to attack Hyunjin but something slowed him...

Hyunjin gripped the crystal and shouted. "COME GET IT!"

And it shattered.

Jin-young stared at him. "This can't be... You're not- You can't- You... You love that HUMAN! You're not one of us! TRAITOR! LIAR! DEVIL!"

Hyunjin tossed the crystal to the ground before staring a beautiful blue pearl.

"This... is for 500 years ago." Hyunjin grabbed the dagger from the floor and stabbed the pearl.

Jin-young screamed and lunged for him but Chan swam past you and grabbed the shrieking king. "Your dynasty is over."

Hyunjin's brows furrowed before he swam and covered your eyes. And yet you couldn't mistake the sound of Jin-young's neck breaking.

It took several hours to get everything handled with your daughter as she couldn't believe Hyunjin was back. Chan was going to recover and the planning of a formal coronation was under way. It was early the next morning, when you finally got home, settling your daughter into bed. But now you had questions.

"Where were you.." you whispered as you returned your home.

Hyunjin looked at you. "Jinyoung ordered me to return and kept me when I tried to leave. He... he imprisoned me in the Coral Palace and I saw... you..."

You looked into his eyes. "You were gone. I thought you-"

Hyunjin remembered what he begged Chan to do and bit his plump lip.

"I thought you left us." You whispered.

Hyunjin fell from the couch on his knees in front of you. "No... Jagiya no..." he breathed. "I would never."

You felt the tears welling in your eyes as he took your hands in his. "I'm sorry... you've been struggling and I just-"

"No. Don't apologize. I.. I should've figured out something-"

"You were in a dungeon, I was just here and-" the tears started streaming down your face before you could stop them. "C/n would ask where you were and I wouldn't know what to say.."

Hyunjin took your face in his hands and shushed you, wiping your tears. "You did amazing..." He whispered. "You are amazing.."

You looked into his pretty green eyes as you tried to control your tears. "I missed you.."

He smiled gently and leaned to press his forehead against yours. "I'm here... I'm finally back... And I'm never going to go again.."

You kissed him softly. He held you against him, pushing his tongue past your lips and sighing as he tasted you for the first time in so long. "Let me..." He breathed.

"What..." You exhaled.

"Make you mine. I want you to meet my parents." He muttered. "But first-"

You didn't let him finish his sentence before you pounced on him.

Your lips were molded to his in a desperate heated kiss as you ran your fingers through his long hair. He muttered against your lips "I love you so much..." as he lifted you, hands firmly on your butt with your legs wrapped around his waist.

He carried you to your bedroom, lip never leaving yours as he set you down on the bed, leaning into you, pulling your shirt over your head as you worked at his pants. He smiled against your lips after he pulled the shirt off you, "Shit, I missed this.."

You gasped as his lips moved to your throat and he bit gently at the skin before kissing and licking at your chest as you mewled softly.

He lifted you and unclipped your bra before taking your of your nipples into his mouth. He groaned as you pulled off his pants just enough to palm at his cock through his boxers. He moved lower kissing at your stomach before kneeling as he pulled your pants and panties off, looking up at you past your breasts. His eyes met yours, pupils blown wide with desire.

His green eyes trailed to your pussy before he leaned in and kissed your clit gently before giving it gentle licks.

You whined and grabbed at his hair.

"Shh.." He hummed, "I've got you pretty thing." He took one of your hands in his and your fingers intertwined as he began licking and sucking at your clit.

You tugged at his hair and gasped, "Hyunjin-"

He groaned into your womanhood, the vibrations sending sparks down your spine before he pushed a long finger into you. You moaned at the stretch and Hyunjin hummed.

"You missed me filling your pretty pussy?" he whispered as he moved his finger in and out green eyes admiring the way your slick coated the digit, before he pushed in another.

You gasped as he curled his fingers to rub your g-spot. He fingered you faster, grinding his palm against your clit, you moaned louder as you felt the familiar knot tightening in you gut. Hyunjin moved up and kissed you moaning as you pulled his hair.

Hyunjin released your hand and took his hand to your clit, rubbing in figure 8 motions as you moaned.

"Cum for me, baby.." He whispered.

And the knot inside you snapped, you jerked as your vision went white and Hyunjin continued fingering you stretching your orgasm thin.

He pulled away and drew his fingers out slowly, admiring your slick as he licked his fingers clean, groaning at your taste. He pulled his shirt and pants off, dragging the boxers as well before grabbing your legs and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He looked down in you eyes as he took his shaft into his hand, rubbing the tip against you slit and slapping it against your clit. You whimpered and he smiled as he pushed into you before leaning over you.

You both moaned as he sank into your tight heat.

"I love you so much..." he breathed, kissing you as he pulled out. He pushed in slowly and the kiss swallowed your moans as he repeated the motion, pushing into you over and over. He pulled away to look into your eyes before he stood to his full height and grabbed your hips.

You gasped as he began fucking into you roughly, desperately, even, as if you might disappear, as if he were dreaming. You moaned as his cock reached deep inside you, brushing your cervix.

"I missed you so much... I thought you'd forgotten me... moved on.. given yourself to someone else." He groaned and and wrapped your legs around his waist, moving you up on the bed and slowing his thrusts. "This is mine.." He kissed your hand,"mine." he kissed your stomach, "mine..." he the valley between your breasts, "mine.." he kissed your lips, "mine. You are mine.." He slammed into you so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs and the bed creaked.

"Hyunjn-" You reached to hold onto him and he took your hand again, kissing your palm as he started pounding into you again, his eyes glazed over and distant but at the same time so focused on you and only you.

You the human he learned to trust. You the girl he used to think about all the time. You the girl who seemed to be everywhere he was. You the only woman he would ever love. You his human.. the mother of his child.. his savior.. you.. the Heart of the Sea.

"I'm not leaving you again... never.." he breathed as he moved faster. "'M going to stay for our little family.. for you." He leaned down and kissed you, muffling your cries as he picked up the pace. "I'm going to cum..."

You gasped and whined as you felt the knot building in you again. "Me too.."

He licked two fingers and brought them to your clit. "Come on jagiya, you can give me one more baby..." He rubbed furiously. "Please he whined and you came again, pussy clenching tightly on Hyunjin.

He moaned and grit his teeth as he came as well. His hips bucked to yours as he released load after load into you before falling over you, holding himself up with his forearms.

You pulled him down to you, his head resting on your bare chest, sweat slicked bodies pressed together and you whispered, running your hand through his damp hair, "I love you, Hyune... Welcome home.."

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mariaofdoranelle · 2 months ago

Text

Stage Kiss

Written for Throne of Glass Microfics

This accidentally ended up the size of two microfics but I’m tagging you if you’ll still have me @throneofglassmicrofics

Prompts: mainly indulge but I ended up using mayhem too

Warning: teenagers

Words: 1,9k 🫣

1st run

Today, at 3:30 p.m., Rowan would kiss Aelin Galathynius on the cheek.

Pathetically enough, this little knowledge was on the forefront of his mind all day. Not his classes, no. Just Aelin’s ivory—occasionally rosy—cheek.

“Whitethorn!” Fenrys shouted in the hallway several steps behind, forcing him to turn and stop so his friend could catch up. “Looking good,” Fen said, playfully slapping the back of his hand against Rowan’s bicep.

Rowan rolled his eyes. He thought that going to the gym every day—plus taking supplements behind his mom’s back—would magically make him more confident. It didn’t. The only difference was that he looked slightly less thin, so now Fenrys occasionally catcalls him and reacts to his IG stories with the flame emoji.

Even worse, Remelle Wiselheade was now hitting on him. His plan to get Aelin’s attention absolutely backfired.

As if he was a mind-reader, Fenrys said, “And how does it feel to be Aelin’s husband?”

Rowan blinked. “Uh…”

“I mean in the play!” Fenrys threw his head back and cackled, then urged them towards the school theater. “Bro, you’re—“

“I obviously knew that!” Rowan said, defensive.

He was just taking theater classes because his mom thought it’d help him with the shyness. But Aelin? Aelin Galathynius could give Margot Robbie a good run for her money—in both talent and beauty.

If enduring his crush on her during classes wasn’t enough, they were acting as husband and wife for this play.

And it required him to kiss her on the cheek.

He was glad that Mr. Emrys, their drama teacher, had a no-kids-kissing-on-stage policy. Rowan was half a lip virgin—that thing with Lyria didn’t count—and while having an almost first kiss with Aelin would’ve been great, he wasn’t looking forward to a very public cardiovascular malfunction.

Once inside, he quickly found her by a wall with Nehemia. Aelin didn’t see him at first, but he slowed his pace to look at her better, making Fenrys—who was right behind him—trip and take Rowan down with him. Not down, since both recovered before falling face-first on the floor, but the whole thing was loud enough that now he had Aelin’s attention. At the worst moment imaginable.

She smiled at him and sent a tiny wave, and by the poorly hidden smirk on Nehemia’s face—very similar to Fenrys’—she must’ve figured out his crush on Aelin. She had to. Nehemia Ytger was one of the smartest people he knew, he just hoped she’d keep her mouth shut for now.

Once everyone gathered around Mr. Emrys and he gave them directions for today, the first rehearsal for Hamlet began.

It passed like a blur until the scene arrived.

[Modified Act 1, Scene 2]

The court gathers. Claudius stands before the throne—simple practice chairs, actually—with Gertrude at his side. Hamlet watches from a distance, looking somber and disapproving.

Rowan didn’t want to read too much into why he learned even the narration. He turned to his “court” and said:

Though my dear brother’s death is fresh in memory, we must also move forward.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Gently holding Aelin’s hand, Rowan swallowed and almost froze when it was time, but her encouraging smile propelled him further.

He might’ve just dipped in and out, but feeling her skin under his lips was the quickest yet longest second of his life.

His cheek kiss was followed by deafening silence. For a second Rowan thought he’d embarrassed himself somehow, until he found everyone staring at Fenrys, waiting for Hamlet.

His friend looked like a deer in the headlights.

“I forgot.”

“A little more than kin, and less than kind, Moonbeam.” Mr. Emrys took a calming breath. “Let’s do another run of this scene, shall we?”

2nd run

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan took Aelin’s hand again. Both experience and her open expression made him kiss her cheek more confidently this time, and he was calm enough to enjoy the moment.

The same awkward silence again.

“Mr. E, I have ADHD,” Fenrys protested, though the twitch in the corners of his mouth betrayed the seriousness. “Don’t you think it’s a bit fascist of you to make me learn all these lines in medieval?”

It’s called ‘Early Modern Common Tongue’, Moonbeam. You’ll learn with practice.” Mr. Emrys settled back into his seat. “Let’s do another run.”

4th run

By now, Rowan was very well practiced in kissing Aelin’s cheek.

Because of the political nature of their characters’ marriage, a greater actor would make Claudius give Gertrude a triumphant look rather than a fond one, but if Mr. Emrys wanted a great actor, he should’ve thought twice before casting Rowan.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

As practiced, he reverently took Aelin’s hand and leaned in for the cheek kiss.

But she turned her head. The spot on her cheek that he focused on became a blur, and before he could grasp the situation, he felt the softness of her lips in his.

An awkward miscalculation on her part.

Or was it?

The way Rowan jerked back in surprise made their peck quicker than the other kisses.

“Whitethorn!” Mr. Emrys called, one finger pointed at him. “That was supposed to be on the cheek, mister.”

He froze, glancing wide-eyed between the teacher and Aelin’s mischievous look. He could protest and clarify that she was the one to incite the kiss, but that would just be loser—worse, virgin—behavior.

Rowan may be both, but he sure wasn’t acting like it.

With the snickers that came from the students, their teacher’s stance relaxed. He slowly shook his head and muttered, “Teenagers,” as a chuckle escaped him.

5th run

Rowan was determined to return Aelin’s peck, which meant that now stakes were higher. This time, he was even more nervous than before the rehearsal started.

She is cute. Rowan really likes her. And she kissed him first.

And this self-pep talk was shit at calming him down.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Instead of holding her hand, Rowan held her jaw instead. By their silent exchange, she had an inkling of what was coming, and her expression seemed welcoming. A quick brush of his thumb as another warning, and he leaned in.

Pillowy soft lips briefly against his was a brief shoot to the skies and back.

It was quick. It was glorious. The sweet, sticky feel of her lipgloss was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“A little more than kind, and—“

“Gods, Fenrys, it’s kin!” Nehemia shouted from the sidelines, distracting the teacher enough to forget about the kiss.

After this, Mr. Emrys stopped complaining—he had bigger battles to fight.

7th run

After their third kiss—plus four on the cheek—Rowan began to wonder if it was too soon for a “What are we?” conversation.

Maybe he should ask her out.

Scratch that, he was absolutely asking her out. If he got rejected, life would go on—after he changed schools.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan stroke her cheek with his thumb and leaned in once again for their peck, but once he did, Aelin threaded her fingers through his hair and kept him there, tilted her head. She waited a second for his response, then retreated once it didn’t come.

Shit. Was this—

With hawk-like speed, Rowan grasped her face with both hands before she could draw back and… well, it was too much of a whirlwind inside his head to make sense of what was going on. All he knew was exploring tongues and her hands on his neck and his heart that threatened to leap out of his throat to interrupt the kiss.

He couldn’t believe he was kissing Aelin Galathynius, and she felt so soft. Soft lips, soft skin, a soft sigh that he felt in areas he’d rather forget to not embarrass himself.

“A little more than kin, and—HOLY SHIT”

The absolute silence turned into mayhem once Fenrys abruptly addressed what was going on. Once he did, the students howled and whistled at them.

However, the only reaction he cared about was Aelin’s, who stared at him with flushed cheeks and wide turquoise eyes that sparkled with something he couldn’t quite place. She giggled and hid it behind her hand, and the sight of her nervous excitement brought a funny feeling to his stomach.

“Okay, that’s enough,” their teacher said to interrupt everyone’s shouts and cheers. “Moonbeam, you’ll arrive with your lines fully memorized next time—this is not a request. Everyone’s dismissed except for Whitethorn and Galathynius.”

The mood immediately sobered as students grabbed their things between whispers. It didn’t affect him like people thought it would, though. Rowan had just kissed Aelin—with tongue. Mr. Emrys could put him in detention ‘til eternity, he didn’t give a fuck.

They got ready to leave along with everyone else, but gathered around the chair their teacher was still on once the theater was empty.

A twitch of Mr. Emry’s lips into a firm line told them he was trying to get into ‘stern teacher’ mode. He’s not really the authoritative type, but they broke the rules, and it was in the job description that he plays a role for discipline’s sake.

“In the script, it says ‘kiss on the cheek’, and I need my actors to do exactly as scripted, okay?”

Rowan and Aelin both muttered their agreements.

“Great. If that—“ Mr. Emrys pointed at the spot their kiss happened. “happens again, I’ll have to take measures all three of us won’t like.”

“We understand.”

“Great.” He said in an upbeat mode, without his ‘stern teacher’ frown, switching back to ‘nice teacher’ mode. “Glad that’s settled. You can go now, but I want you in your best behavior from now on.”

The thing about Mr. Emrys is that he’s a really cool dude. He rarely gets angry at his students, most times it’s an odd sort of fond exasperation. It worked on their favor this time, but Rowan wouldn’t take it for granted.

Outside, Aelin stopped once the door was closed. So did he. The playful flirtation they had during rehearsal was gone, and Rowan was unsure on how to make a move in this awkward silence.

It was now or never, though.

Aelin chuckled and went her way down the hall, which he followed beside her.

“So, that happened.”

He gave her a brief, close-lipped smile. “I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” She swiftly looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Doyouwannagooutsometime?”

Rowan hoped the blood rushing into his cheeks wasn’t visible from outer space.

Aelin had both hands gripping the shoulder straps of her backpack as she fought the corners of her lips from quirking up.

“Sure,” she said. “Do you have something in mind? Because there’s this movie I really wanna watch—”

“We can watch it.”

Aelin bit her bottom lip, eyes brimming with amusement. “I haven’t told you which movie it is yet.”

He tilted his head, silently urging her to give the information.

Please, anything but that gorey demon one he saw last weekend.

“Do you wanna go see Healers vs. Demons?”

“Sounds great,” Rowan half-lied.

Any movie sounded great if it was on his first date with Aelin.

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anonymousewrites · 10 months ago

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Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Six

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Six: Memories of Life and Death

Summary: Everyone says the wrong thing, and (Y/N)'s mental health pays the price.

(Y/N) closed their eyes and put their hands over their ears as Angel’s show-and-tell video played. It was, of course, nothing short of one of his acting scenes with more of him than (Y/N) ever wanted or needed to see.

“Ya know, this performance won me a ‘Sex-x-x-i’ award,” said Angel proudly.

“It’s, uh, very…honest?” Charlie averted her face.

“Ew,” said Vaggie. “Okay, enough of that! Angel, what the fuck?”

“What? You said it was Show n’ Tell day!” said Angel. “I’m showin’ you my best film, and I’m tellin’ you that it scored me a win over that bitch, Tiffany Titfucker.”

“Ya know, that’s not a very convincing interrogation scene,” said Husk from the bar as he cleaned glasses.

“Alright, dickhead, what makes you think you have any right to insult my work to my fuckin’ face?” said Angel.

“You’re really gonna sit there and act like these scripts ain’t hot garbage?” said Husk, raising a brow.

“Fuck you,” said Angel. “This is classy art!” He pointed at the screen on an incredibly inappropriate scene.

Pentious covered his eyes with his head flaps, and Niffty grinned happily as she watched.

“That’s bullshit,” said Husk. “You get drunk and bitch about them all the time. Everyone likes to bitch to the bartender. I know everything about you and these motherfuckers at this point.” Angel rolled his eyes, and Husk decided to make a point. “That one.” He pointed at Pentious. “That one is an insecure buffoon whose lonely ass watches you idiots sleep. Princess is a bleeding heart who wants to solve everyone else’s problems ‘cept her own.”

“What? No, I—Pfft, no, no,” denied Charlie nervously.

Husk just continued on to Vaggie. “This one judges everyone and everything because she hates herself.”

“Aargh!” Vaggie hated how accurate it was.

“That one.” Husk moved on to (Y/N), whose flowers flinched nervously. “Is sick and tired of being thought of as some innocent kid by everyone here and might go crazy if anyone tries to put that role onto them.”

(Y/N) smiled sheepishly. Unfortunately, they really did feel like that.

“And Niffty.” Husk made a face. “You don’t even wanna know what her deal is.”

Angel cackled. “You weren’t kidding. Haha, wow! Kitten’s got claws! Meow~” He grabbed Husk’s face teasingly.

“And you!” Husk pushed Angel back. “Don’t get me started. I see right through you and all this bullshit and how fake you are.”

“Oh, me? Fake?” challenged Angel. “Wow. I had no idea. Guess that’s why I’m an actor. Dumbass. And—” His phone went off, and Angel’s face fell before he grabbed it. “Hold that thought.” He walked a few paces away. “Hello? Uh, yeah, I’m-I’m…” His entire attitude had changed, growing nervous and hesitant, completely unlike the usual Angel Dust the hotel dealt with. “No, no, I just, I—No, I’m not, but, uh, yeah…I’ll be right there.”

He turned off his phone and looked back at the group. (Y/N) furrowed their brow in concern as they saw a familiarly fake smile spread across his face. They had worn that smile themself. It had weighed more than a thousand tons on their shoulders.

“Well, uh, looks like Val needs me for an, uh, emergency shoot,” said Angel, trying to seem excited and eager.

“Uhuh, sure,” said Husk, seeing through it.

“You know what?” snapped Angel. “Fuck you! I don’t give a shit what a drunk ass bartender thinks a’ me! So why don’t you just crawl back to whatever cave you came out of, porn critic.” He gave Husk the middle finger and walked towards the door.

“Angel, you can’t leave yet!” said Charlie. “We haven’t finished our exercises for the day.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage without me,” said Angel.

I don’t think he can say no to Valentino, thought (Y/N), frowning.

They knew Angel had a contract with Valentino, and they saw the exhaustion in him whenever he returned to the hotel. They knew that if he could, Angel would rest more often. But he couldn’t. And (Y/N) really wished they could do something about it. After all, if there was one thing they despised more than anything else in this whole Hell and Heaven and Earth and everything, it was those that took advantage of others. The very thought summoned a murderous rage (Y/N).

They knew what it felt like to be used and abused.

The roses on (Y/N)’s head quivered and wilted as they felt themself on the verge of really, truly remembering (reliving) what they had gone through in life, and (Y/N)’s chest tightened.

“There isn’t much time left for the hotel to prove itself,” said Charlie, her words drawing (Y/N) out of their mind successfully.

“Dollface, it’s my job,” said Angel forcefully. “I know you want to fix everything, but unless you can fix my boss, there’s nothing you can do.” He slammed the door shut and was gone.

“Uuuuugh, why is this so haaaard?” groaned Charlie, curling up in front of the door. “What am I doing wrong?”

“I don’t think Valentino wants Angel to be redeemed, even if it’s possible,” said (Y/N), frowning.

“But I do,” said Charlie. “And I really believe in him! But he always has to go to work and can never really commit…What do I do?”

“Well, I mean, you’re the princess of Hell,” said Vaggie.

“So?” said Charlie.

“So, you don’t really use the power that comes with that, which I love about you, but maybe you can…I don’t know, command a little more authority?” suggested Vaggie, smiling encouragingly.

�� “But that’s so mean!” said Charlie.

“I don’t know much about the Vees, but I’m sure they’d deserve it,” said (Y/N), and Husk nodded in firm agreement.

“It’s not mean, exactly,” said Vaggie, trying to get through to Charlie in a way she’d understand. “It’s, uh, aggressive kindness!”

Wow. (Y/N) and Husk looked at each other, unimpressed by that “persuasion.”

“Okay!” Charlie brightened, apparently having been convinced by the idea of “aggressive kindness.” “I could be so aggressively kind to Angel’s boss that I convince to let Angel spend more time at the hotel!”

“Sure, whatever gets you there, babe,” said Vaggie, smiling at Charlie as she walked out the door happily.

“Is killing Overlords not on the table?” murmured (Y/N).

“No,” said Husk. “At least, not for you.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll do it another time,” said (Y/N).

Husk shrugged. “As long as you know you’ll win, go for it.” He didn’t care if Valentino got what was coming to him.

“Do not encourage them to kill people!” said Vaggie.

“It’s not people. It would be Valentino,” said Husk, and (Y/N) nodded in agreement.

Vaggie sighed, but she couldn’t disagree.

When Angel returned, (Y/N)’s anger returned full force. He was clearly exhausted and uncomfortable, and whatever he had to film, it was long and, possibly (likely), painful.

“Eugh, I need a drink,” said Angel, slumping across the bar counter. “The hardest you can make.”

“Hm. You look like shit,” said Husk, putting a glass down and pouring a drink.

Angel straightened and put on his overconfident act. “Pfft. Not possible. Just a long shoot, nothin’ new.”

“Are you alright, Angel?” asked (Y/N), frowning.

“Of course!” said Angel, but he quickly chugged the drink Husk had made him. He slammed the glass down. “I said a strong one.”

“Excuse me,” scoffed Husk. “Didn’t realize this was a ‘drinking to forget’ kind of night.”

“Oh, I forgot. You’re the wise old bartender who’s seen it all!” Angel spoke confidently, but the look on his face was clearly not. “Get the fuck over yourself and pour me a real drink.”

“Look, if you got a problem, you’re not going to find the solution at the bottom of a bottle,” said Husk. “I should know, I’ve been looking there a long time.”

“Oh, sure, and where should I look, huh?” said Angel, scoffing. He wiggled his eyebrows. “In your bedroom, maybe? Under the covers? Maybe we can go and look together.”

“Angel, we’re actually worried,” said (Y/N), walking over. “We want to make sure you’re okay and take care of yourself.”

“I’m fine,” snapped Angel. “I don’t need any help.”

“Cut the act,” said Husk. “We can both see through it. You’re just lying to yourself and being fake.”

“Call me a fake one more time, motherfuckers!” Angel snapped, leaning forward towards (Y/N) and Husk angrily.

“Angel—” began (Y/N), reaching out slightly.

“Just leave me alone!” snapped Angel. He slapped their hand away. “Ya know what?! Ya’re all fucking lucky to be talkin’ to me! And you—” he glared at Husk “—would be lucky to fuck me! Ya know how much I’m worth?!” He was clearly spiraling. “Ya know how many people would kill to have Angel Dust come onto them?! Fuck you!” He spun on (Y/N), who flinched back. “And you! Just leave me alone! Stop trying the nice act on me! Acting like you’re innocent and nice when you’re just as much a sinner as us! Just fucking stop!”

(Y/N) flinched back as Angel stormed out. Their chest constricted, and they were overwhelmed as words from their past came to the surface. (Y/N) stumbled back even as Vaggie came around the corner. They could vaguely hear Vaggie asking Husk what had happened, but everything was faraway, like (Y/N) was underwater.

(Y/N) pulled away from the group, and as the edges of their vision blurred, they stumbled away, farther into the hotel.

Away. Need to get away.

(Y/N) collapsed in a darkened corner of the hotel.

“Don’t act innocent. You’re a filthy sinner, and if you don’t start obeying me, you’re going straight to Hell.”

(Y/N) curled up, putting their hands around their knees. Unbidden, roses and briars bloomed around them, creating a protective barrier that couldn’t hide (Y/N) from the words echoing in their mind.

“I saw you in Church. You weren’t paying attention. Can’t you do anything right? Do you want to burn for all eternity?”

(Y/N) squeezed their eyes shut and put their hands over their ears, but nothing could block out their memories.

“You’ve brought this on yourself. You refuse to atone for your sins, so I must deliver you from yourself.”

(Y/N) flinched, and phantom pain blossomed on their back.

“You are a sinner! You bring sin into this household! You must atone!”

(Y/N) curled farther in on themself.

I’m fine. I’m free. None of them can hurt me again. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

“I’m fine. They can’t hurt me. I won. I won. I won.”

“Sinner. Filthy. Dirty.”

“No, no, no, you were the filthy one. You hurt me.” (Y/N) murmured. “They hurt me, and I punished them.”

“Wrong. Mistake. Abomination.”

“I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did the right thing.”

“You have to atone.”

“Can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt me.”

(Y/N) tried to breathe as their entire body ran hot, lungs too tight, the air too stuffy.

And then something cool wrapped around them. (Y/N) tensed, but they were too exhausted to open their eyes, too scared to see the people they were so desperately trying to block out. So they just let the comforting temperature wrap around them, settling around them. It stilled their thoughts, delivering them from their own mental hell.

(Y/N) let out a tired breath and held themself tightly. Whatever was settling around them felt like no enemy, and (Y/N) would take any bit of comfort they could find.

They had never gotten any before.

Alastor lurked within the shadows of the hotel, gazing over (Y/N)’s small, protective barrier. He loomed above, perfectly able to act as he wished, ready as ever to drive fear into all. Instead, Alastor let the shadows rise and settle around (Y/N)’s shoulders. Their breathing calmed, and Alastor pulled back farther into the shadows, satisfied.

He could’ve frightened them. He could’ve driven them farther into their own madness. He could’ve pushed them and their magic to the brink to see if they had the strength to survive.

But Alastor hadn’t. He’d heard the same words he’d spoken to himself so, so long ago. And he’d done what, perhaps, a different, faint version of himself would have wanted.

Perhaps (Y/N) and he were not as different as he assumed.

Instantly, Alastor retreated into the shadows. He would prefer to think over that new realization on his own. It presented quite a few considerations Alastor had so far avoided in his life.

Much, much later in the evening, (Y/N) braved a return to the lobby to attempt to steal a drink before retreating to their room again.

“Hey, kid?”

(Y/N) froze and turned. Angel was standing across from them, rubbing his arm nervously.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

“Listen, kid.” Angel stepped forward. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry. For earlier. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. I was being stupid. You’re a good kid. And even if you’re in Hell, you’re betta than most of the sinners in the Hellhole.”

“It’s okay,” said (Y/N), shifting uneasily. “You weren’t feeling well. I’m sorry for pushing.”

“You, uh, cared,” said Angel. “It was nice of you. So thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Angel smiled slightly. “Are we okay?”

(Y/N) nodded. “We are.” Angel wasn’t who (Y/N) had escaped. He was their friend.

And whoever had helped them was their friend, too.

Taglist:

@kyalov

@pandaquick

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@jaytheaceenby

@paastaboi

@bettybabys

@gxdoesstuff

@grippleback-galaxy

@just-here-reading

@dmitrytherat

@a-small-tyrant

@marxo5

@rory-cakes

@andsoigotabutterfly

@theblueslytherin

@romyoia

@ray-rook

@thereeallink

@pandaquick

@funkyexistence

@theyaremorethanjustfictional

@lanxianschoenheit

@justyourfriendlyneighbourhood1

@ringsofpersonti

@futureittomainn

@enderpearltv

@oo0lady-mad0oo

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ofcrowsanddragons · 1 month ago

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This was Rook's purpose, she reminded herself. Her heart was pounding like mad as Lucanis smiled, explaining that he was bringing Neve some real coffee. Rook's job was to be the boss, to be supportive but maybe a step removed. It wouldn't help the world if she made her friends uncomfortable.

When Neve entered the room and Rook watched as they smiled at each other, the only thing she could think about was how gorgeous they were as their eyes lit up when they got close to each other. They looked so damned happy.

Rook was happy for them.

She tried to ignore the feeling in her chest as something withered and died. Rook plastered on a smile that had served her so well in her investigations across Thedas, and she babbled something that she hoped was sufficiently supportive before leaving the couple alone.

---

Neve always thought that falling asleep in the Lighthouse was less weird than dealing with it in waking life. In the Fade, buildings were supposed to float in an aimless void. Things were supposed to appear when you needed them—or disappear when it was inconvenient.

Which was all to say, really, that the portion of the Fade that she was dropped in when she dreamed of the Lighthouse was not that much different than the Lighthouse itself.

She pushed herself up from her cot and looked at where Spite was engaged in some kind of game with the wisps. She ignored him, and he leered at her unconvincingly.

It wasn't a problem. She and Spite had an agreement, but she chose not to bargain with demons while asleep in the Fade. It set a bad precedent.

The dream had her wandering through the halls of the Lighthouse. The kitchen was empty, but the main area was full of almost human (or elf)-shaped spirits, talking to each other like this was a lively day in a stronghold full to bursting with families.

It probably had been, once.

Neve's feet took her to the library, where she lingered among the books for a small age. Something drew her onward. She felt a chill as she walked by the infirmary, but carried on down the long hallway that led to Rook's meditation room.

The door was open.

She let out a small sigh as she leaned back on the doorframe. Demons and their games.

Spite's cackle appeared next to her. She waved away the feeling of his breath ghosting on her ear, and looked back at the demon as he bodily appeared just behind her.

"I'm not sure what you're on about, here," Neve said quietly. "Do you want to disturb them?"

On the far side of the room, leaning against the glass wall of the window (surrounded by empty fog), Lucanis and Rook were twisted up in each other's arms. Rook was pressed gently into the corner, and Lucanis held her with one hand on her hip, and another on her ribcage. She could see Rook more clearly, and Rook was talking (Rook always had the right words), and gently tucked a lock of Lucanis's hair behind his ear. She leaned in close, and the two of them were kissing.

Spite's glee ended abruptly. He stepped into her space to look at her more closely. "You see. The cut. But it doesn't bleed?" He leaned in, smelling her hair. Or her in general.

He reeled back, and then cackled again. "Warm sunshine and cold nights by the fire," said Spite in a knowing tone. "You. Want them both."

Neve stared straight ahead, unwilling to look at Spite and potentially wanting to commit the scene to memory.

"Adults," she said with a bored tone, as if she was talking to the air and not to a Mage's nightmare whose full attention she held, "Are capable of choosing which impulses they act on."

She released a thrum of power into the raw Fade, exactly as she had learned to in the circle. "Now, release me, demon."

Spite grumbled, but Neve felt the dream fade around her.

Graciously, she said, "And if someone wanted to find me in the waking world, I might be willing to answer his questions."

"Maybe she. Wants to know whose dream this was."

But Neve forgot Spite's words as she turned to haggle with a merchant in Dock Town's bustling market.

#jealousy #fic snippets #fic ideas #my writing #female rook for something different #veilguard spoilers #blink and you'll miss it ending spoilers #neve x rook #neve x lucanis #veilguard fic #neve gallus #lucanis dellamorte #spite dragon age #crow thoughts #neve x lucanis x rook

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 2 years ago

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The Arcana HCs: M6 administering first aid when it's their fault MC is slightly hurt

~ this idea has been sitting in my drafts for forever and I got an ask or two for something similar, enjoy the fluff! - brainrot ~

Part 2 is here:

- to set the scene -

It was evening time, and the two of you were in your shared space getting ready to decompress after a long week of work. You had just finished your bath and were drying your hair, but you couldn't find your comb. You glance across the room to where your beloved is and notice that it's right next to them.

"Darling, could you toss me my hair comb?"

They smile, pick it up, and toss it gently in your direction. Except that it flies faster than they expect it to. And they put a little more push and spin into it than they meant to. And when the comb smacks you in the face, one of the prongs manages to nick your eyebrow. You only feel a slight sting, but it's when your fingers come away from your face with a slight smear of blood that you notice the horror on your beloved's face. Oh dear.

Julian

Torn between the deep despair of what he's just done and his doctor's instinct to FIX IT, FIX IT NOW

Scrambling to find something to disinfect it with and clean it up, berating himself the whole time and concocting a thousand harebrained schemes to earn your forgiveness

During his search the memory of your little scratch is multiplying tenfold, what if you need stitches, what if you're permanently scarred across the face -

- until he sits you down and passes the clean rag across your face and oh, it's already stopped bleeding. It doesn't even need a bandage

The sheer relief has him cackling hysterically with tiny tears in his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder and asking for your forgiveness between sobs of laughter

It's also the stress of a long week getting to him, once five minutes have passed and he's still shaking you go pour a glass of something strong for the two of you to share and take your mind off of things

Asra

Both hands clasped over their mouth, eyes wide with horror

You can see tears threatening to pool in his eyes, he hurt you, how could he hurt you

As soon as you make a move towards them they are dashing to your side and brushing a shaky hand across your face to get a better look at it

Using healing magic as soon as you give him permission and then double and triple checking that there's no mark leftover

You're able to pull them out of their little spiral by asking them to kiss it better

That makes him laugh, and then he's pulling you closer and covering your face with smiling kisses

Will apologize for hurting you, and then for not giving you more credit to handle it

They'll stop feeling bad about it if you get the elephant out if the room by teasing him about it

"Yeah, you say you like my face, and then you go slicing it up with a hair comb, call me crazy but I'm getting mixed signals here..."

Hides his face in shame with the prettiest blush each time, "I said I was sorry, MC!"

Nadia

Utterly horrified. How could she. You asked her to do the simplest thing and she injured you instead

Completely at a loss on how to respond. She doesn't know first aid, she thinks one is supposed to elevate the injured area, but it's on your face and you're already standing up

It's on your face. She's officially responsible for scarring the greatest living work of art in the world, she'll never forgive herself

Her facial expression is the kind you'd expect to see on the kid who broke the cookie jar, not the Countess of Vesuvia

You're making your way across the room, holding in a giggle at the unusual look on her face, trying to tell her that you're fine without laughing

She's not convinced until you take a damp handkerchief and dab away the little drop of blood, showing a barely visible scratch underneath

"... oh." *recomposes herself* "well I suppose you didn't defeat the Devil for nothing."

You can see the little smile playing at the corners of her mouth and you know exactly how to make it blossom

"You have quite the arm, my lady."

Muriel

Be kind to him, he has trauma and from his perspective the sight of blood is all he needs to think that his worst fear is coming true

The first thing you do is use the edge of your towel to wipe off your face so there's only the scratch left

Then you're pulling him by the hand to sit down while Inanna climbs in his lap to ground him

Right about now he's realizing that technically someone could say he's overreacting so now he's flushing red and embarrassed and thinking about ways to hide

Obviously you're not going to let him hide or belittle himself, a trigger is a trigger regardless of how small it may seem to an outsider

Once he's taken a few deep breaths he'll steel himself to look at you before you even plan to work towards that and assess the damage

Oh, it really is just a scratch. There's not even any blood visible anymore

You're not going to tease him about it but Inanna will

Portia

She's laughing before you can even process what just happened

Her preferred method of sisterly comfort is a fist to the gut, mostly she's impressed at the fact that she could throw a comb that dangerously

She's also got her handkerchief in hand, pressing it to your forehead while you both giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation

She'll put a little bandaid on it too

The rest of the evening will be "injured warrior" themed

"Oh no, my dear MC, you have returned from war with a most horrible disfigurement! Whatever shall I do!"

She's doing this with her version of a posh Vesuvian accent, which layers hilariously over her natural Nevivon pronunciation

She'll comb your hair for you as her version of an apology

Can and will threaten you, Pepi, and Ilya with the hair comb in the future

"You leave me no choice. You laugh now, but if you do not help me wash the dishes I will remind you what these prongs are truly capable of!"

Lucio

"Oopsie."

The irony hits you that for once this is the completely appropriate response for him to make to his mistake

He can tell almost immediately that you're fine, he knows what major head wounds can look like and this ain't that

Grabbing a discarded shirt and tiptoeing across the room to you Captain Jack Sparrow style, he's dabbing the blood away gingerly and squinting at the scratch leftover like it's offended him

"We should get rid of that comb. It's weirdly shaped so it can't be aimed."

He's honestly not that bothered. He knows you're made of tough stuff, he knows you both got worse scratches than this earlier walking through a thorny patch of underbrush

If you decide to give him grief for it he'll suggest you throw the comb back at him, just so you're even

If you do and he doesn't duck and it does successfully scratch him too he'll be very proud of your matching battle wounds

"You aren't actually mad at me though, right?"

#the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #lucio morgasson #muriel of the kokhuri #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #portia the arcana #muriel the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana shitpost #the arcana fluff #ask arcana brainrot

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lurkingshan · 1 year ago

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10 Things I Love About Ossan's Love Returns

Y’all. Y'ALL. I am stunned right now. I am verklempt. I never thought I would end up here. But here I am.

I bounced hard off the original Ossan's Love. Like, hard. I DNF'd and immediately memory holed just about everything I knew about it. But people I trust (namely @isaksbestpillow and @twig-tea) said this new series was an improvement on the original, and that I didn't have to go back and try rewatching the first series to dive into this one. So of course I, a jbl devotee, had to give it the old college try.

AND TO MY SHOCK AND AWE, I LOVE IT. This show is excellent. This is Japanese media at its absolute best, showcasing the precision in writing, directing, editing, and acting that they can reach when they are firing on all cylinders. This is the kind of comedy only a Japanese production can get right, because it requires a mastery of all these elements that you just can't get in less mature filmmaking industries. This is the best example I have ever seen of this kind of broad comedic style grounded in real stakes.

So let me tell you why this show, which is available for the international audience on Gaga (and with subs coming from Sirii, as well!), is worth your time:

This is a story about an established relationship between adult characters. Y'all know how I feel about the dearth of this we get in drama! Maki and Haruta have been long distance for four years and are moving in together to start their married life as this show begins.

The writing is unbelievably strong. Everything that happens matters, the characters always make sense, and the jokes are genuinely so fucking funny.

Kurosawa, or Chief, as I refer to him, is one of the funniest characters of all time, in any drama. The way this man had me laughing out loud in every scene! I felt like I got a workout.

This show is a feat of editing. I have been watching a string of shows recently that are getting hamstrung by bad editing, so let me tell you, it was a true pleasure to watch a drama that executes editing tricks so deftly and with such an eye toward sharpening its story and enhancing its jokes.

It has excellent female side characters. We have Chizu, my favorite lady bestie who is here to whip Haruta into shape at all times, and Chuoko, an actual archer who also has her own little romance going, and Haruta's mom, an unbothered legend who just wants to eat her food and get to her dates with her boyfriend.

There's a mystery! Next door to Haruta and Maki are two creepy mfers (brothers?) who are Up To Something. Or not! I don't know but I’ll find out!

We are getting an actual dialogue about gay marriage. Haruta and Maki consider themselves married, but have no legally binding contract and have not yet had a wedding, and they talk about this and their feelings about it often as they are negotiating their lives together.

We may have some aroace rep happening?? This is still pending but my radar is pinging hard for Takegawa to join the incredibly shortlist of explicitly aro and/or ace characters in bl.

DID I MENTION THIS SHOW IS FUCKING HILARIOUS. I cannot overstate the number of times this drama had me straight cackling in three short episodes. I had to get up and do some laps to walk it off.

The show is extremely well paced and I trust it not to waste my time. No small thing in these bl streets! The odd episode order (9) and tight pacing of each of the first three episodes tells me the creators of this show know exactly what they are doing and how much time they need to execute their vision.

This show is airing live for the next six weeks and I strongly encourage you to watch it and come join the fun with us!

#ossan's love returns #ossan's love #japanese bl #shan recommends #10 things #shan shouts into the void

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disastercyborgecho · 6 months ago

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SOBB Week #4 [Both Prompts]

I made myself cry with this one boys

@summer-of-bad-batch

Prompt: Cadets

Prompt: “You really think you’re going without me? Not going to happen.”

CW: Death (the gentle, soft kind, that we all hope awaits us)

One of my favorite lines from this:

'But he and his brothers were collared beasts no longer. They were standing on shaking new legs, reborn as something gentler, with teeth never meant to rip and tear and hurt. All learning to walk together.'

Something about those dog metaphors ruins me every time. I wanted to explore the depression that Echo struggles with, and how that looks when someone doesn't have a name for it, but still faces it head on every day. How it looks with a found family that you didn't necessarily ask for, not at first. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Comments/constructive criticism welcome :)

***

No Longer a Biting Beast

Song Listened to while writing: Half-Return by Adrianne Lenker

Echo knew that the Bad Batch considered him family. He understood that logically, emotionally, what have you. But deep down, just under his heart where his body was still his and not machine, he felt as though he was an outsider to a group of people that knew each other in a way he would never understand.

They were cadets together. Boys together, for however short it had been.

Before Order 66, before everything had gotten worse and gotten better all at once, Echo could not help step into the role of observer easily aboard the Marauder.

He would watch Hunter and Wrecker play-fight while he settled down in the cockpit, cackling and wrestling each other to the floor with juvenile energy, laughing as they held each other down, Wrecker tugging Hunter’s bandana into his eyes and shouting with glee and Hunter claiming “That’s still cheating, you know! Doesn’t matter we’re not tubies anymore!”

As they shared rations before bunking down, he would watch the way Crosshair and Tech would pick apart the food they didn’t like, passing it back and forth wordlessly until both ended up with a full meal of something they actually enjoyed. It was practiced and calm, something done even running on little to no sleep because the same thing had been done since they were only 5 years out of the tube. Echo would eat his own rations, dry on his tongue, and have to look away, because the person that he used to share with was gone forever.

It wasn’t as though Echo was trying to be an outsider. He had joined CF 99 because he was one already in his old battalion. He saw it on Rex’s face, eyes so tired for someone so young still, watching regs that used to be Echo’s brothers sneer at him or avoid him as best they could. Rex didn’t approve, but there was only so much one man could do, and both he and Echo knew it. It was war, and if Echo didn’t fit, then he would go somewhere where he could keep fighting. It was all any of them knew.

In battle, Echo didn’t feel separated from his new brothers, not anymore anyway. They had practiced their formations, their plans, everything, until he was just another cog in a perfect bloody machine. He pretended like he didn’t crave that feeling of anonymity, just another face among identical faces, in every other moment of his life.

But inevitably, he would find himself back in the cockpit of the Marauder, watching a scene play out in front of him that drove home how long these men had known each other. An inside joke, a reference to a battle he wasn’t there for, and memories of cadet training that Echo would never understand. It was bitter in his mouth alongside rations he couldn’t share.

When Omega joined them, when Crosshair left, he was too busy to stick his fingers in the hole left in his chest by trauma and isolation. He had to keep Omega safe. Keep his brothers safe.

And with Cross gone, everyone was feeling out a new space in a family that suddenly, painfully, looked very different. But then Cross was back, and everything was different. And everything was the same. Because these men had been cadets together, and that would never change, and Hunter and Wrecker were still too used to only one other man to wrestle with to ask Echo to join, and Tech and Cross only exchanged food with one another. Because every little thing that was a happy moment from their ‘childhood’ they guarded like feral dogs, latching onto it and shaking it to make sure it would stay with them forever. Echo couldn’t blame them.

Echo thinks that perhaps this is why he left to join Rex in the end. Because he was a dog too, his teeth blunt from gnawing on something long rotten, and he craved something new to rip into. He craved the familiar meat of identical faces and identical voices and a language passed down and taught in secret to those coming after them, holding onto anything that they could call their own besides their names.

But too soon, sooner than others because of metal veins and gears in his heart, Echo became an old dog, teeth gone and fur patchy. He wanted to keep fighting, keep chasing something to fill up that hole in his chest, but Rex placed a heavy calloused hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, handprint warm where it was once painted onto armor, and he pressed their foreheads together. They both had more wrinkles now, but Echo could remember when they were both young, moving through the ranks. When they were cadets, too.

“Go home, vod’ika,” Rex whispered. “It’s okay to rest. It’s time.”

So Echo went home.

Pabu was the same as when he had last seen it, but more faces there looked like his own had when he was with the 501st, when he was still whole. And there were the faces that he knew so well now, too, waiting for him.

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed them until the moment that he saw them all there, curled up in the sun, faces tanned and relaxed. Happy.

Omega glanced up, and when she saw him she squealed in happiness and sprinted toward him as though a string pulled her there uncontrollably. Echo scooped her up without hesitation, laughing with her, tears in his eyes, before pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m home, vod’ika,” he whispered to her. “I’m home.”

His brothers joined them, pulled to him just as Omega had, and the hole in his chest didn’t feel like it was so big.

It was still there as he carved out a space for himself on Pabu. It would probably never leave. But he and his brothers were collared beasts no longer. They were standing on shaking new legs, reborn as something gentler, with teeth never meant to rip and tear and hurt. All learning to walk together.

Slowly, painfully sometimes, Echo stitched a patch over the hole.

The threads were made of his brothers, of his sister. Of Cross’s shaking hand, of Tech’s pink scars still raw and new, of Wrecker’s fishing lures strung through their kitchen, and Hunter’s jackets left draped over the couch in their living room. Of Omega and her friends leaving dirty boots by their doorstep and falling asleep tangled up together in Echo’s bed as he told them stories of his own days as a cadet, tangled up with his brothers telling their own. Winding together until they were indistinguishable.

In this way, he aged. Grey hair, crow’s feet from laughter, the whole nine yards. And so did his brothers. They may not have been boys together, but they made their final home together. They grew old together. It was not something any of them had believed could happen, but here they were. On their porch in Pabu, watching the sun set over the water, rocking gently in chairs woven and built by Wrecker and Tech, painted bright yellows and blues by Crosshair. Tech was asleep on Cross’ shoulder, and Hunter held a soft smile on his face as the sun warmed the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. Wrecker was drawing something in a notebook, the familiar scratches of his pencil on paper a soft lullaby. Echo looked out at the sun, at his home, and then back at his family. And he realized that he felt like he fit. That he was going to join the stars among people that loved him most. He sighed, and leaned his head back in his chair. He was not scared, as the darkness approached. He welcomed it, after all this time. And as he had one foot on one side of the veil and one on the other, he saw him.

Fives was standing next to his chair, a hand on his shoulder, but he did not look like Echo remembered him. He was old too. His hair had grayed, his beard grown out, and smile lines settled deep on his face. He looked down at Echo and grinned, and that was still the same. He beckoned Echo toward the light, and Echo stood to follow. Then he felt something tug at his other shoulder. He looked behind him, and saw his brothers.

They were still in their chairs as the sun slowly set on the bad batch, but they also stood with him, and Hunter, who had stopped him, smiled.

“You really think you’re going without us? Not going to happen.”

His family nodded.

“We’re going together.” Crosshair added, determined as always.

And Echo couldn’t ask for anything else.

As they followed Fives into the stars, their bodies left warm and asleep in the fading sun, they became young again.

Six cadets made their way to the next life, laughing and stumbling over one another as they looked forward to their next adventure. One they would face together.

***

AO3 Link

#star wars #clone wars #clone troopers #bad batch #clone force 99 #the bad batch #arc trooper echo #echo #ct 1409 #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #summerofbadbatch2024 #clone trooper angst #cryptids writing

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pursuitseternal · 6 months ago

Text

“Our Blood: Into the Fire” 🔥 The Battle for Avernus🔥

Astarion x Cordehlia (Tav) | E | 5K

Summary: Arriving in Avernus, Cordehlia and Astarion reunite with old friends to stand with them along side Raphael. Facing Zariel, Mizora, and her legions is no small task, but they are an indomitable force, side by side (by side)

CW: canon typical battle gore, minor character deaths, decapitations, Wyll/Karlach flirty tension, Astarion and Cordy are that make out couple in every group, Raphael’s Ascended Fiend Form, Kill Your Abuser x 2

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The air was thick with blood and rife with soot. Cordehlia breathed it in and cringed. Too many times had she inhaled the same stink and been coated with the crimson droplets and smeared with black ash before. This wasn’t some skirmish against Cultists, not some half-brained attempt to save the realms with her closest companions. This was war. These were enemy lines soaked in gore and graves. A familiar scene for the Bone Picker, she shrugged off those memories quickly once she felt his gauntleted hand in her own.

Astarion cocked one hip, surveying the lands where they arrived from the portal. “Well,” he crooned, tone rippling with judgment, “you’d think the stink of sulphuric gas would cover the general rot of corpses. Guess I was wrong…”

Cordehlia’s lips pressed in a smile, her brows arching in pure sarcastic delight. “It's quite a sight,” she hummed in mock approval as she heard the devil’s footsteps draw along the other side of her. “Perhaps it is the most impressive battlefield I’ve ever surveyed.”

“A high compliment to come from my beloved, Bone Picker,” Raphael’s rumbling tones sounded right in her ear.

Astarion drew up beside her, rigid in stance. His armor gleamed in the infernal glow—the silver elven set they had found on their journeys. It was the armor he most trusted to protect his life, to guard him as he guarded her.

Raphael’s rumbling chuckle nearly caught him off-guard as the devil rounded behind them both. “Easy, Lord Astarion,” he drawled out that title. “Your consort needs only to draw on her peerless skills in combat, and then you two can go back on your merry way,” his thick brow arched, watching as his words only made the Vampire Lord hold himself all the more tensely. More fiercely. And he laughed louder still. “Just think, a few dead devils and cambions, and you can go right back to bed.”

The meaning was not lost on either of them. And Cordehlia only grew all the more determined. “Enough,” she snapped. “Battlefields are for silencing breath, not wasting it.”

Two sets of brows raised in surprise, one dark set and one silver. “Yes, my Lady,” and “Yes, my darling,” were both crooned out in response.

“I need battle plans and details on your enemy, how many imps, where have you last spotted them, how great is the strength of our foe.” She began her list of demands, making for the grand sprawling battle tents of Raphael’s camp.

That was when an old scream of joy sounded, the only warning Cordehlia got before two strong, red arms clutched for her and braced her against a warm armored chest. “For fucks sake, Cordy!” Karlach burst into cackling laughter. “I’d ask ‘what in the hells are you doing here?’ but I fear your hubby would bite me at that humor.”

Asrarion scoffed, even as he grinned from ear to ear, fangs on full display. “You’ve somehow managed to get worse at humor, Karlach,” he teased with a smirk.

“Most likely my fault,” a warm voice chimed in as Wyll approached, horns and all. “I am not known for the sharpness of my wit, only my blade.”

“Ha, ha,” Astarion pretended to chortle, a good show, despite the actual crinkling lines at his eyes that Cordehlia noticed, a true tell that he was happy to see their old friends. “You’re always such a good influence on people, Wyll.”

“Not on you, Lord Astarion,” Wyll smiles wide. “But regardless, we will see those Ascendant powers put to use once more in battle, and for that I’m glad. Zariel won’t be an easy foe to take down.”

“Zareil?” both vampires scoff, nearly identical in disbelief.

“That’s right, bitches,” Karlach’s chest flamed searingly bright, punching one fist into her own palm, a grin on her red face that was truly diabolical with joy. “It’s payback time, and there is no one else I’d rather have here for it than you two.”

Cordehlia’s vision went red, her body brimming with blinding rage. Rage at Raphael for hiding the identity of their foe, even more rage at him for bringing Karlach and Wyll under his thumb and service without informing her. Her jaw locked, her hands fisted, Cordehlia marched off on her long legs towards the grandest tent of the encampment. Astarion called after her, his own body leaning forward as he hurried after her with all his vampiric speed.

But her rage was too great to wait for him.

Arm flinging open the flap to the largest vermillion tent she had ever seen, she burst into its flame-lit shadow. “Fuck you, Raphael,” she snarled, unnanounced and uninvited.

The devil rounded, his own golden helldusk armor glinting in the flickering torch light. His swarthy face drew into a leering smirk. “Well, if you insist my beloved Bone Picker,” he crooned as he looked down his nose.

Cordehlia let the insinuation slide, too furious for such games. Before she could stop herself, that shining dagger steadied her palm, pressing against the little skin of his neck still visible. “Zariel?” she hissed, enraged and feral. “You brought us here for the Archduchess herself, not some mild-mannered gang of imps.”

Raphael’s rumbling laughter vibrated down the steel of her blade. “And isn’t she a foe worthy of your illustrious reputation, my lady?”

She pressed the blade just a little harder, enough to draw blood to the surface without breaking his skin. “I want to know your game, Raphael, not more deals or tricks or secrets between us.”

“For you, my favorite harbinger of death, I’ll give it to you, and I’ll give it to you straight,” the devil smirked, his lips drawn to reveal his flawlessly white teeth.

“Well,” that silken voice purred from the entryway behind her, “seems you’ve earned yourself a knife to the throat, devil.” Astarion drew up right beside his love. “Not many men earn that right, let alone survive it. In fact, I almost say I’m jealous…” He ran his gloved hand down Cordehlia’s pale, smirking cheek, and she shivered. “You never threaten me at knifepoint anymore, darling.”

“You’ve earned more than a knife against your body as incentive, my love,” Cordehlia purred right back, melting under that single brush of his finger as she resheathed her blade. Then she nipped at his chin with her own glittering fangs, just ostentatiously enough to make Raphael’s breath quicken. “Now tell me the truth of why we are here,” she honed her own scarlet gaze at the devil, “and you tell the exact details of your contracts with my other companions, or so help me, I’ll feed your balls to the next Orthon I find.”

Astarion chuckled, marveling at her brutality.

And so did Raphael. He eased his stance, fidgeting with the clasps of his armor. “There are no contracts for your dear Hellion and her beloved Blade,” his replied, his tone sweet like honey in its confidence. “They work for me for pay, a nice little livelihood and budding romance between them, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Don’t lie,” Cordehlia hissed.

The devil merely glanced at her as he wriggled his breastplate over the expanse of his chest. “And why would I ever offend you by lying, my bloodthirsty lady? I might be guilty of omitting details, or downplaying certain aspects of our relations, but I have never once lied.”

Those feminine eyes narrowed at him, assessing him. “Fine,” she replied. “Then no omissions or diminutions. What is your plan, what is your endgame for my lord and me?”

“It’s simple,” Raphael drew back to face them both, the Ascendant and his Consort. “It’s a small matter of balance. I helped you, Astarion, gain the power for which you longed, power to free you from your old master and to make your long-lost betrothed your eternal bride. I merely ask for your help in returning the favor ever so slightly. I want your blades in the final fight against Zariel, aiding me on my way to ruling Avernus for my own.”

His voice rang with greater ambition, and Cordehlia sensed so much more to those plans that laid beyond merely ruling Avernus. It made her fiery hair stand on end.

But it was Astarion’s silken purr that grounded her back in the present. “This is it, devil, our final act to free us from our debt to your favors.”

Raphael gave that deep, rolling chuckle. “Oh, I’m aware just how important freedom, true freedom is to you, Lord Astarion,” he taunted back. “You aid me against the Archduchess and I swear, all further deals will start anew, and they will be entirely mutually… satisfactory.”

“And our friends?” Astarion casually rolled his shoulders, letting his elegant elven armor clank. “We merely want to ensure even their roles in your court and employ are mutually… satisfactory,” he drolled out the same words in a mimicking tone.

The meaning was clear, the warning given that they were under his protection. And hers. Raphael’s eyes darted between the two undead warriors, that same old confident mask on his face. “I promise you, hand to your undead, beating, Ascendant heart that they are free to leave my employ when they wish, and that until such time, they enjoy my protection and my patronage.” He scoffed a laugh. “Do I really fall so short from your favor in your crimson eyes?”

Neither replied, but that tension between them snapped into place, that way their eyes flickered at one another a sign of their mental bond sending all sorts of silent commentary and secrets.

“Very well,” Cordehlia replied, a cold smile on her lips and a hardness at the corner of her eyes, “show us your battle plans, and we will help you conquer Avernus for your own.”

Pleased, his smile broadened, and Raphael gave that bass-toned chuckle. “It’s so refreshing to hear it put so bluntly, my lady. Thank you.”

“If there is one thing I am familiar with, devil, it’s recognizing the power of ambition,” Cordehlia appraised him, a brow arched, a hip cocked. “Whether it is an ambition to serve us or be check, that remains to be seen…”

“Oh, but don’t you know by now I live to serve you… Bone Picker,” he crooned. “You have nothing to fear in Avernus from me, my lady. But I can’t say the same of our enemies.” He gestured to the war table behind him, a massive circular table heaven-laden with maps and massive. “Shall we?”

Fire and blood in the air, a smile on her face, Cordehlia sliced through another imp as it flew straight for her face. Karlach’s hyena-laugh at her side as she took down five in one swing of her greataxe made Cordehlia’s heart soar. The hot air kept her battle braids off her face, letting the warrior-elf turn her head easily to see her companions.

“Never a dull moment,” she smiled, all fangs and teeth as she watched Wyll darting just beyond the Tiefling.

“Gods… I thought I was done hearing your little quips at every turn of our adventures,” Astarion’s voice panted at her right hand. His pale skin spattered already beyond recognition, blood blooming over his white curls. Making Cordehlia truly hunger for blood.

She just licked her blade clean in the brief breath of respite they had now between waves of foes. “My love, I thought you loved to… ‘go turn someone inside out…’” she taunted, another lick along the other side of her dagger.

His wry, humored look made her chuckle. “Seems someone is feeling vicious and nostalgic, hmm?” He laughed breathlessly, quickly spinning to dispatch another small imp as it curved toward them. One arrow through the infernal air from his bow, and it landed with a thud. Astarion gave a dark-humored grin. “And yes, my dear, before you can make the comment, yes, that… is… blood.”

Oh, the playful yet withering glare she gave him was delicious, so much so, he couldn’t resist pulling her into an armor-clacking kiss right there on the battlefield. Her mouth tasted of the burning brine of imp blood, but gods, it felt good. “I missed this…” he whispered against her fangs and tongue.

“Hey-o!” Karlach’s boisterous voice and presence drew near. “I forgot how much they locked lips on the battlefield. How ‘bout you Wyll?”

“I didn’t forget,” Wyll replied, panting and drawing closer to their Tiefling friend. His voice was strangely sweet like honey, given the rivers of blood under their feet and the stink of sulphur around them. “Makes you almost think they’re on to something…”

Cordehlia shoved herself away, nearly certain she was about to watch them kiss for themselves…

“Get your hands off each other and back on your blades, imbeciles,” that heated voice crooned from above. The beating of leather wings a portent of Raphael’s arrival again; he landed in the middle of them with a thud. He glared around, an icy stare in those fiery black and yellow cambion eyes. “If you are quite finished fraternizing with one another, we do have an Archduchess to overthrow.”

His wings folded in aggressively, sending a blast of stinging hot air in their faces.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, we’ve broken through their flanks, just as you suggested, my dear…” Astarion raised Cordehlia’s bloodied and gauntleted hand to his lips. “So where, devil, do we find your foe to overthrow and the stinking, volcanic ledge from which to throw her over?”

Raphael leered, unamused at the jest. “Your humor is not as razor sharp as it once was, Ascendant. Let’s hope your blades still are.”

Cordehlia had to turn her head and ignore the pointed look Karlach was throwing her, if only to preserve her love’s pride.

Suddenly, fire swirled, the black, molten form of a devil started to form. Big navy wings, a lithe and curvaceous figure, bright orange hair… “Well, if it isn’t the pests Zariel has sent me to exterminate…”

“Mizora,” Wyll snapped, as close to enraged and feral as he could be.

The cambion looked fearsome, decked in her silver chain link mail, spikes of black, dripping blood lining her armor in rows. “Oh, Wyll, pet, it’s good to see you. But, for as much as I’ve missed you since your pact ended, I’m here to put you down for good, you and your pesky little friends…” She eyed Raphael, his own winged form bristling in her presence. “You too, hungry little cat, trying to take what isn’t yours with your greedy little claws…”

“This cat will devour all nine layers of the hells once I’m through,” Raphael snarled, his tail twitching. “Until then, I’ll have to sate myself on the blood of you and your mistress.” He flapped his great wings to rush in attack, but Mizora only cackled as she flew just as fast.

“Raphael!” Cordehlia screamed after him, making the devil draw up suddenly short in the air. “You can’t let her lead us off our quarry.” She drew out her blade. “We need you to face Zariel, not her minion.”

“I’ll take Mizora,” Wyll panted, his grip tight on his rapier. “It’s about time I made her pay for all her abuse. But I’ll need another at my side…” his mismatched eyes looked towards Karlach.

“Not me, Blade, I’ve got my own asshole to slay. If Zariel’s going to bleed, I’m going to be the one to see what color her blood runs.”

“I’ll go, Wyll,” Astarion clapped a hand on the Blade of Avernus’ shoulder. “Besides, Mizora tried to sleep with my Bride back in our adventuring days.” He raised his brow in wicked delight at the slightest taste of revenge. “And I’m not one to forget…”

“Who would dare?” Raphael leered again.

“Well, a better question is, who would dare to seek that without me, honestly. What an idiot.” Astarion pulled Cordehlia close. Nuzzling her neck, he took a shallow little bite, licking the small trickle of blood that flowed. “See you once it’s through my love,” he whispered.

She bit his neck and did the same, a small taste of him before they parted. “Yes, you will, my love.”

One more glance at one another, and the Blade and the Ascendant bolted off across the hellscape.

“Well, my Hellion and my Bone Picker, let’s go get us an archdevil,” Raphael grinned his pointy-toothed smile.

Scorching, volcanic air rushed around them as the Wyll and Astarion raced after Zariel’s right hand. Mizora dove and weaved around the field, making for the stinking waters of the Styx. At last, Wyll spotted an outcrop of black rock, running for it to leap off its sharp edge, reaching his blade just as she swooped in reach. “This ends now, for my father and for me,” Wyll shouted, his blade cutting down Mizora, steel slicing through the pink membrane of her wing. Three arrows struck into her with heavy thwacks, Astarion grinned savagely, delighting in his dexterous accuracy. Each arrow grouped right where a devil’s heart should be. The cambion tumbled awkwardly from the red skies, her wings thrashing with loud gusts of wind before her body crash landed on the ground.

“You maggots, think you can beat me?” Mizora flailed as she clambered to her feet. “You think your efforts in Raphael’s name won’t go unpunished by the rest of the hells? Zariel will wear your fangs as earrings, little Ascendant.”

“Oh, not if my Bride finds her first,” Astarion hissed, quicker than the eye could catch, he launched another arrow into the base of her blue-columned neck. Enough to maim, but not to keep her from talking. “But that’s why you tried to claim her for your own, isn’t it? Couldn’t resist my own little hellcat, my darling spitfire.” Two strong, pale hands held up her head by her horns. “No one takes what’s mine from me,” he hissed through fangs, “and no one entraps my dearest companions without facing retribution. Isn’t that right, Wyll?”

Astarion’s crimson eyes scanned his friend, the fearless Blade, only to notice his hand shaking on the hilt of his faithful weapon. Heart aching, he knew that look, had felt it before as he clung to Rhapsody’s hilt to carve the marching ruins in his own abuser’s back. “Do it now, Wyll,” he said, steady and sure, as if he could give Wyll the resolve for which he was searching. “End this, do it for those years you lost to her torment.”

Wyll’s mismatched eyes just glared wider, flickering between Astarion’s blood-spattered face and Mizora as each breath she drew grew weaker.

“Make her suffer your sting, once and for all,” Astarion smirked, yanking those horns harder, the stink of her blood’s acid making his stomach curl.

Fingers regripped around Wyll’s hilt, one swing of his rapier, and it was done. One cambion head hung in the vampire’s hands, one body fell at their feet with a heavy thud. And Wyll laughed— a deep, inane, rolling belly laugh, the kind Astarion had never heard before. His bloodied glove clapped on top of Astarion’s shoulder. “Vampire Ascendant, I, for one, am grateful to have not been a good influence on you. That felt….”

Astarion smiled, catching his own breath, “Really fucking good, right?”

“Yeah,” Wyll laughed again, more of his usual breathy chuckle as he took Mizora’s head by the horn in his own hand. “Really… fucking… good.”

Black stone walls echoed with the drag of his claws, their boney points scraping as he sauntered down the halls towards Zariel’s throne room. His throne room now. Raphael laughed from his distorted; deformed maw, his Ascended fiendish laugh like boulders crushed together. The only sound louder was the metallic dragging of his quarry behind him, Zariel’s armor torn asunder by his claws and his magic. He gave another bone-grinding laugh as he crouched his form low enough to enter the doors. Blood ran beneath his feet, red and hot and stinking, as his own chosen warriors decimated the remainders of her private guard. Their death cries were music to his fiendish ears.

He smiled, shaking his enormous, skin-tight abomination of a head, feeling inspired… words of glory coming to his tongue. He tossed Zariel’s half-mangled body to the foot of her dais, her human form crunching some more frail bones as she landed with a thud.

“To hells allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!

I dare damnation. To this point I stand

That both the worlds I give to negligence.

Let come what comes…”

A wall of fire consumed him as he shrunk back in size but never in power, that swarthy face of man gloating unscathed down at his nemesis.

“…only I’ll be revenged.”

His arm extended, magic coursed through the air, hot and consuming, pulling the Archduchess taut by her appendages. Stretching her on the rack of his mighty power.

Barely more now than a bald head and pure hate, Zariel writhed in the tendrils of Raphael’s magic. “Mephistopheles’ outcast halfbreed, you won’t live to enjoy your victory. I can guarantee it; that’s the way of the hells.”

Raphael merely closed his fist tighter, stretching the Archduchess’ limbs taut as his warriors sliced their way through the last of her fiends. Every step they took splashed in blood, more steaming as it flowed with every swipe of greataxe and dagger blades. Breathless and grinning with glee, Karlach and Cordehlia flanked their devil commander, both their faces now reddened afresh with blood-spatter and gore.

“You’re lucky, Archduchess, as the first to bear witness to my own ascension to power. With Avernus as mine to rule, it will be a matter of time before all the others fall to the same fate as you, Zariel. How fortunate you get to serve as the example. Your bald head will sit nicely on the gates of this palace.” Raphael turned his wry, delighted grin towards the Tiefling, her infernal engine thumping and grinning faster with her magnificent bloodlust and rage. “Wouldn’t you agree, Karlach?”

“Yeah, but only after I get to piss on it a few times,” she scowled, her vocal chords frayed and strained from her battle cries.

Raphael gestured with pure gallantry to the Hellion. “She’s yours, my dear. Unleash that heat of rage once and for all…”

Kalach’s fire flared, sparks dancing from her hair and skin as she shifted her axe over her shoulder. With a twirl of his fingers, Zariel’s body bent to kneel in the pools of blood, her arms behind her back, her head bent low…

…As it should be before him, Raphael gloated.

“My delightful Bone Picker, do make certain our friend doesn’t struggle so,” Raphael crooned at the vampiress, the blood coating her armor and skin matching the bloodlust glinting in her blood red eyes. A look of delight on her face, she sheathed her sword and dagger, entering into the tendrils of infernal magic. The sole of her boot kicked square in the middle of her back, a laugh rippling from her fanged smile. With all her vampiric might, she kept their foe pinned beneath her heel, and a single nod to Karlach was permission enough.

Flames burst, a flare of vengeance and heat, and Karlach gripped her weapon. Chest heaving, eyes wide, it took only one barbaric scream and one fell swing of her axe to end it all—her life of torture, her source of horror, and the day’s battle. Her axe slung back over her shoulder, Karlach reached for her trophy and tossed it at Raphael. “Hope you’re a better Archdevil,” she commented casually.

“I have every intent on being far superior,” Raphael crowed in reply, taking his trophy in hand. He gave his most pleasant smile, and relished the way his Tiefling commander with an engine for a heart seemed to bristle less than usual as he gave it.

A figure of almost pure red approached, her fangs were the only part of her face left free from blood, most likely because she had already licked them clean. Cordehlia glided over, coated in a fresh spray of archduchess blood. “Well, Raphael, congratulations are in order. Crownless, and yet Avernus is yours,” she refused to bow her head, but her eyes flickered with approval.

Raphael grinned despite the potential slight in decorum. In fact, he’d be disappointed if she had bowed to him or bent a knee. “No small thanks to my favorite, bloodied warrior of this and every age, my lady,” he replied, those velvet tones unable to convey just how much he meant them.

Cordehlia tipped her head back, surveying the damage wrought around them. “Well, the day is ours, and a rest and a feast are well overdue.”

“Say no more, my lady,” Raphael chuckled, snapping his fingers to swirl them in smoke. The throne room faded, instantly replaced with the heart of Raphael’s war camp.

Two feet back under her, and Cordehlia couldn’t wait to rest, her body ached in places it hadn’t for almost a year, not since those final battles against the armies of the Absolute. The stick of congealed blood grew thick, and while she wanted to rest and bathe, she first wanted… no, needed her feast.

She needed to taste him.

She could hear his heart beating across the crowd, its familiar thumbing making her hunger flame higher. Molten need, to touch him, to make sure he was unharmed and victorious, it drove her to race past cambions and other infernal beings as she shoved them out of her way.

“My love,” she purred the second they locked eyes. He was just as covered in gore-filth as she, the red spattered elegantly over his silver waves of hair still, even if he had washed his face. He grinned at her hungrily the second he saw her at last. Crashing and clanging, their armor slammed together as they embraced, their kiss all tongue and fangs and breaths to be reunited again. His fingers clutched around her chin, bringing her cheek against his mouth, his warm tongue swiping a lick up her pale skin.

“Darling, you are as messy a murderer as I am an eater. Just look at the state of you, tch.” He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, gathering the blood from her chin before he sucked that digit clean.

Cordehlia’s face twisted into a mocking grin, grabbing him by the collar and pulling his taunting lips to hers. “We deserve a feast, my love,” she murmured against his lips, “and you’re the one who’s going to join me in it.”

“Mmm,” he purred, “I do rather like that, you know.” A playful growl in his throat, and he nipped that bottom lip of hers.

“Gods, you two have only gotten worse, haven’t you,” Karlach boomed her teasing laugh.

“You have no idea,” Astarion replied, his eyes still locked on that beloved bloodspattered countenance as he caressed her.

Giving Karlach a bump from his shoulder to hers, Wyll chortled. “Oh, we have some ideas. It’s not like we didn’t spend weeks having to share camp and common rooms at the Elfsong with you.” He shook his great horned head. “Not like we didn't have to stop in streets and battlefields so you two could kiss.”

Mischief flashed in Cordehlia’s scarlet eyes as she impishly snapped her fangs in the air in front of Astarion’s face.

“Ah, how sweet to see that your bonds of friendship haven’t withered over time,” that velvet baritone broke the camaraderie, making the easy company they kept with one another stiffen back to formality as Raphael approached. He swaggered in slowly into their midst, his helldusk armor still spattered from combat as well. A cambion servant followed in tow with a silver tray to wine chalices ready for consumption.

“A toast to the victors?” he crooned, handing a cup to Wyll first. “First, to the Blade of Avernus, a powerful weapon I’m glad to have in my magnanimous employ.”

Wyll tipped his horned head. “It’s been… refreshing to find a devil who did not demand soul nor contract.”

“I do what I can for those who eliminated the Illithid threat from your realm and mine,” Raphael smirked, raising his cup.

“Bullshit,” Karlach barked a laugh as she grabbed her own chalice from the tray. “You’re just soft on us because we conveniently freed the crown of Karsus from the Dead Three,” she barely stopped talking to down the wine to its dregs in one go. “That and you want to keep your Bone Picker on your good side, eh?”

Raphael arched a single thick, dark brow. “What kind of devil would I be if I didn’t ensure the faithfulness of allies of renown, so bloodsoaked and deadly. You all had your hands in a feat of great and mighty valor. I’d be a fool to let our longstanding connection slip from my claws.” His gaze settled square on the Tiefling. “That reminds me, Advocatus Diaboli. You’ll be Advocatus no longer, Karlach. Legatus Legionis, the title and position are yours. My commander in the field, my arm in matters of politics beyond the hells.” Raphael nodded in Wyll’s direction as Karlach’s face beamed with joy. “Perhaps a return to Baldur’s Gate to escort the next Duke Ravenguard to his proper place, now that Avernus is mine. You’ll need to be as effective in the politics of the material plane as you are in battle, my Hellion, so…”

“YOU’RE GONNA FIX MY HEART?” Karlach screamed at full volume, giddy and bouncing like a child.

Raphael’s rolling, rumbling chuckle sounded almost genuine to see her gratitude and mirth. “You’ll need it if you’re going to be my conduit of influence to our Duke of Baldur’s Gate, the Vampire Ascendant and his mighty Bone Picker…”. He turned to find the allies in question, two cups of a different sort of red liquid as its contents awaiting them on the tray. “To our victory, again,” the new Archdevil proclaimed, dulcet tone befitting his new status. Allies and an army and a circle of hell at his command…. Not much was missing, he grinned as they all downed their drinks.

“You know, that was fun,” Karlach added, a wide incorrigible grin on her face. Her heavy hand came squarely down on the devil's shoulder. “Thanks for a good time, Claws.”

Raphael’s brown arched, his swarthy face drawing into a grin that showed amusement and warning. “Claws?”

Karlach gaped at him, almost sloshing her wine as she huffed with her whole body. “Oh, come on! You know, like when we first met you… down came the…. Is your memory that bad?”

A sardonic sneer on his face, Raphael started to walk away, snapping his fingers to refill their chalices to near bursting.

“Am I still your Legal Whatever-it-was?” she called after him.

That easy camaraderie returned, laughter and claps on the back all around. “Don’t worry, I think he likes it,” Astairon grinned, nodding his head in twisted delight.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

A/N: Raphael has a… soft spot… for Cordehlia, one that maybe clouds his usually twisted manipulative plans with wanting to earn her good will. His generosity towards Karlach and Wyll is maybe more a means of ensuring Cordhelia’s favor than any form of kindness.

And… just maybe… he’s going to cash in that favor in our next update. 🦇 x 🐦‍⬛ x 😈

2nd A/N: I stole from The Bard for my evil devil Bard. Raphael’s poem of victory is from Laertes in “Hamlet” 💀

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