#and it's undergrad not grad he's talking about

[lockeswoodss]

The Crimson Glow: Chapter 1

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!MDNI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You had long given up on meeting your soulmates. At 33, you felt like you'd miss the window. Pathetic off white pink strings, that had only darkened twice, were your only claim to them. That was until you started your across-state journey from Philly to P-burgh. Feeling brash after a recent breakup you threw caution to the wind and applied for a job across your home state. To your surprise, you were hired. With the encouragement of your close friends and brother, you committed to the new experience. For once, you were excited for adventure, that was until your strings began to darken.

CW: none? I guess cursing? If you see something please let me know 💛

A/N: While this chapter does not include smut there will be some in future chapters; it's a slow burn. Smut chapters will be labeled

Taglist: @nocturnalrorobin (also the requester of this prompt ^-^)

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It would be an understatement to say that you’ve grown pessimistic when it comes to your soulmates. I mean fuck you were in your early thirties and your soul link of red strings had only changed from a pale pink twice in your life before going back to the default light pink. Yes, strings plural. You were part of the 2% of Americans who are estimated to have more than one soulmate. Despite this occurring in 1 in 50 people, your parents were from a generation where those who had more than one soulmate were ostracized. In turn, they had trained you since you were able to talk to only refer to one string. It had been ingrained in you to the extent that even now, as an adult, you had only told less than five people outside of your family about having two soulmates. Two of which were close friends, and the other two were past long-term relationships. Fuck what you wouldn’t give for a quote of your first words, or a countdown timer. Anything other than this off-white string that had been hanging over your head since childhood.

You knew that you could only be mad at fate to a certain extent. You had chosen to be career driven and bet on sure things rather than chasing after strings that had been stagnant for almost your whole life. In a way, you wish you could be as carefree as your twin brother. Benjamin, ever the romantic, took what was supposed to be a gap year from undergrad to grad school to find his mate. He headed east to Europe and backpacked across the entire continent before finding his soulmate, now husband, in Sicily. He ended up settling in London with his soulmate, Dante, eleven years ago and never looked back. Your parents’ reaction to his “lifestyle choices” was the final nail in the coffin before you both went no contact. You were the only thing left trying him to the US. You visited him at least once a year and talked regularly. You always wished you could be as carefree as he was. Despite your own situation, you were beyond happy for your brother. If not a bit envious, which led you to now, you pulled off at a rest station off of Route 76 on the verge of a panic attack.

You had just passed Harrisburg, two hours into your journey west from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh. For the first time ever both your strings were red, overlapped and darkening as you got closer to Pittsburgh. You didn’t know what to do or how to process this new information. Your strings had been overlapped for about two years now, and you had dealt with and accepted the fact that your soulmates had most likely found each other.  No, it was the darkening that threw you for a loop. This had only happened twice, the first time the string had gone from off-white to red only to turn back light pink within a few hours. That same string, pointing east across the Atlantic, had briefly turned black to grey back to light pink. You’d never forget that day one of your soulmates had almost died. Your sting had gone black for a minute and 57 seconds.

You shook your head, dismissing that thought; you were already stressed as it was.

You don’t know how Benji and your friend, a Pittsburgh native, had convinced you to take life by the reins and be impulsive. Between your recent breakup and a job opportunity across the state, you had made the improbable choice. You quit your job and got an apartment on the other side of the state. You regret it now, dread building in your gut. You weren’t spontaneous, no, you were practical and thorough. You didn’t take these kinds of risks.

Fuck, you felt like you were going to throw up. You quickly exited your maps app. Your thumb was over your brother’s contact info when your call screen suddenly took over displaying an incoming call from him. You picked up before the first ring had ended.

“You’re okay,” Ben’s voice rang out before you even had the chance to greet him. The wails of your nephew faint in the background.

“I-” You started, voice shaky, you paused before taking a breath.

“It’s okay,” he said once again, voice level.

“They’re red Ben, like properly red, like the ones in the movies.” You responded, you somehow managed to get the words out evenly, before taking another deep breath.

“Sis, that’s a good thing,” he responded, smile clear in his voice.

“No, I don’t know what to do,” you sighed, pressing your forehead flush with the top of the steering wheel, “I always know what to do Ben.”

“It’s okay to not know what’s to come, most people don’t know what’s going to happen before they meet their soulmate. You just have to lean on fate for a bit before going back to being a know-it-all,” he joked, hoping to lighten your mood.

“Okay,” you sighed, breathing going back to normal. “But what if I’m not what they’re expecting?”

“Then they’ll be pleasantly surprised,” He responded,

“What if it’s a bad time? Or if I meet them before making it to Pittsburgh?” You ask.

“There’s no perfect time to meet your mates, and if you meet them before Pittsburgh, you’ll figure it out. Like you always do.” He said comfortingly,

“What if-what if they don’t want me?” you said, finally voicing your deepest concern.

“Sis,” he replied softly, his voice just loud enough to register on his phone’s mic.

“I’m just-Fuck, I’m a mess, I start at my new job in less than two days, my apartment isn’t set up, and I definitely needed to do a everything shower this morning, but gaslighted myself into not washing my hair.” You sighed, “Just,” you breathed, “What if I’m not good enough?” Your voice wavered.

“Hey, watch your tone, I know you’re not bad mouthing my sister. Not the one that put herself through college, a master’s program, and a licensing process to become an art therapist. Not the woman who devotes everything to her patients within boundaries. Not the one who worked pro bono at a grief summer camp because of a staffing shortage. Or on top of everything is an amazing artist. Cuz she’s an empathetic badass, who is way too smart to say any of that shit.” Ben responded.

“Ben,” you said, sniffled, eyes watering.

“You’re going to be okay. They are lucky to be blessed with your presence and happy to meet you. If not, I’ll fuck them up.”

You let out a wet laugh, a single tear escaping each of your eyes as you blinked.

“Thanks,” you sniffled, a soft smile on your lips.

“No problem. What are big brothers for?” he asked, jokingly.

“Just cuz you cut in line does not make you older.” You responded to a lifelong debate with an eyeroll he’d never see, “Sorry for falling apart on you.”

“Sis, I’m sleep training a five-month-old, who is on what I hope is the tail end of colic. You were a much-needed break.”

“Tell Atlas his auntie loves him.” You said, taking one last deep breath. The weight gone from your chest.

“I will.” You could hear the softness in his voice shift, Atlas most likely finally calming down for Dante in the other room, “If you need anything, feel free to call.”

“I will, love you,” you reply.

“Love you too,” he responded before you clicked off the call.

You took a deep breath; you plugged your phone back into its charging port and clicked on maps and cued up a hip-hop mix. You shifted from park to drive and merged back onto I-76. You took one last stop two hours in, but it just made you more tired. You white knuckled it until you got to the parking garage adjacent to your building. Your strings continued to darken, color plateaued when you drove into the city’s limits. They weren’t overlapping anymore. On was pointing up, something you’d never seen before, and the other was pointing off to the right as you face your apartment building. You texted Ben and your friend who lived in the city that you got in safely. You unloaded your backpack and a single suitcase that held all your valuables. For the first time, you found yourself liking the annoying squeaks of its broken wheel. It was something familiar.

After you locked your car, the next half hour was a blur. You signed the final paperwork at the office and got your keys. You boarded the elevator and clicked on the tenth floor.

Your breath caught in your throat as the red string that was pointing upward started to move laterally down, while the other started to point down. The above one kept moving downward until it was back to the height of your palm. Was this it? Were you about to meet your soulmate? Despite bitching about not meeting them for the better part of thirty years you felt wildly unprepared. The ding of your floor snapped you out of your daze.

Were they living on the same floor as you?

You shook your head, turning left as the building manager had directed you. You slowly made your way down the hall; your suitcase’s broken wheel squeaking was the only noise. Your head snapped down as you passed the last apartment on the right before yours. The string was bright crimson, bolder than you had ever seen before. As you walked on, the string went through you, through the wall into that apartment.

You paused. But then there was nothing? Maybe they were asleep? It was four in the afternoon, but you weren’t really one to judge; you always loved a good nap. That or maybe they worked nights? After waiting for a beat, you slowly walked down to your apartment door, keeping an eye on the door as you opened yours.

Maybe this was okay? While you were desperate to meet them, you also had just completed an over five-hour drive, and you felt and you’re sure, looked like hot garbage. You gave yourself no time to take in the apartment before crossing through the sea of reusable boxes to your bedroom. You quickly tossed your backpack on the sheetless mattress resting on a built bed frame. You pulled out the lounge wear you packed along with a towel and washcloth from one of the totes before rushing to the bathroom. If you were gonna meet them today you were gonna have clean hair god dammit. You turned on the water as you stripped, your string remaining solitary to the one spot in your neighbor’s apartment. You unpacked your toiletries onto the shower’s ledges before jumping in. Your nerves got to you again, loitering in the shower as long as you could justify. After drying off, you did your full extended post-shower routine; eyes never straying far from the solitaire string.

While you tried to start to unpack, you couldn’t help but stare at the string. Should you just go and knock on their door? Before you could scheme any further, your stomach grumbled. It was already five and you hadn’t eaten since the last rest stop. Maybe going to grab something to eat wasn’t the worst idea ever. It’d get you out of your current impasse of staring at a wall. You picked a well-rated Thai restaurant around the corner, ordering way too much for a single person. The entire trip lasted about a half-hour, but it was a nice break. You got some fresh air and were able to stretch your legs as you took in the neighborhood. When you got back to the lobby, your other string started to darken quickly, like it was speeding towards you. You debated waiting for it or going back upstairs so that you could all be together. You opted for the latter and retreated back to your apartment. The string on your floor remained still, only starting to move as you closed your door.

Your heart began to hammer in your chest as you placed the food down on your kitchen counter. You were about to check in with Ben before a loud knock sounded off. Hesitantly, you approached the door, strings bright red, almost glowing. They formed a “V” shape as you wrapped your hand around the door handle.

This was it

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A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read! I am in the last month of my semester, so I don't have an update schedule as of now. Will hopefully be more consistent after mid-May. Hope you're doing well whenever you are 💛

[roseband]

...

[dreadfutures]

almost cried as my advisor introduced my talk and emphasized my dedication to science communication, community and coalition building, and broadening participation in stem alongside all my scientific achievements 😭 kept a brave face but I'm crying now tho

[qqweebird]

i love my major i love geology/geologineering and paleontology but i hate how… loosey goosey this field is about precision… like obviously they are good diligent scientists but most applications of this study are so large scale that like, decimal points either arent going to make a difference or you literally *cant* in good conscience claim a result to that precision. and when i was mapping in wyoming last summer so much of my job was “just write down what you think is true to your best logical conclusion and if someone disagrees they can go climb the mountain themselves”

[stinkyies]

THE TOP WENT TO UR SCHOOL???????? THIS IS INSANE

its my #onlyatgw moment 🥰🥰

[mangoisms]

so the plan is to Briefly pause my work on the nikolai fic and turn around to finish those oneshots i was talking about. Have been talking about for the past. two weeks. id LIKE to finish them today but i have no idea if that’s possible. realistically i suppose today and tomorrow i’ll work on them. id like to finish them today just bc i do have stuff to do tomorrow (see: reading that 90 page article for an assignment due on wednesday) and it would definitely be After i did that. so. we’ll see

[thoughtssvt]

adventures of sugar daddy nanami kento and his frugal sugar baby [ pt. 2 ]

nanami kento x reader ; fluff & humor ; nsfw joke | [ pt. 1 ]

MDNI — 18+ interactions only

A/N : it's implied that reader is still attending school, whether that be college undergrad or grad is up to you; tldr: reader is over the age of 18

"darling, are you busy right now?" kento's voice dripped from the speaker of your phone like thick honey.

"nope, go ahead," you confirm that you have time to talk as you wipe the sweat off your brow, the summer sun and scalding water making your body temperature rise.

you could practically hear kento's brows furrow, "are you sure? you sound a distance away and I can hear the water running," he said suspiciously.

you cringed, holding your breath as you slowly slid the plate onto the rack only to cringe at the sharp hiss of ceramic skidding against metal.

"I thought you started using the dish washer," kento sighed, the creak of his office chair putting the image of a disappointed kento leaning back in his chair in your head.

"I don't trust it, kento!" you cried dramatically. you would've clutched at your heart if your hands weren't soaking, sparkling glasses weeping on the rack at the mere thought of being thrown in satan's machine.

a staccato sigh and your muffled chuckles filled the kitchen. "anyway," kento continued, "I was wondering if you had the energy for something public." he asked, always considerate of your social battery.

you blotted your hands against the hand towel that hung from the oven door's handle, humming happily as you reached for the nice hand lotion kento had gotten for you, worried about the state of your hands considering the temperature of the water you habitually used. "why? is this some secret exhibition sex club thing that you rich people have?" you teased.

"I want to treat you to an outing since you refuse to do it yourself," kento poked back, speeding passed your joke, already used to your antics.

"oh, not denying it? does it actually exist?" your eyes widened in feigned suspicion, a weak attempt at changing the subject.

"do you know why I started looking for a sugar baby?" kento continued. you sucked in a breath only to be cut off, "nevermind... don't answer that." kento sighed, making you chuckle. "I wanted someone to enjoy spending my money. I lost that kind of excitement a long time ago, so you don't have to hold back. you can ask me for anything that will make you happy, okay?" he explained, sincerity oozing from his voice.

you nodded as you listened, ears perking up towards the end. "anything?" you parroted drawn out and timid.

౨ৎ

kento scrubbed his hands against his scalp, blond locks effectively spiking in every direction. you were both sat next to each other at the dining table, crowding around your laptop-- the one you'd refused to replace, deadset on it lasting you at least another four years despite the volume the fans worked being loud enough to wake kento from his sleep. kento sat defeated, chin digging into his palm as he stared into the abyss while you wore a gleaming smile on your face, excitedly knocking against the table as you waited for your prehistoric machine to load.

once the confirmation screen popped up you wrapped your arm around kento's, pulling him in close. "you were right, kento! spending all this money is fun!" you chimed, wiggling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

kento stared at you with glassy eyes. "I don't know what to do to make you understand," he croaked. "was this really fun for you?" he softened as he took in your features and how much more energized you seemed after just a few clicks.

when he got home from work you'd dragged him to the table, pulling up the tragic student loan debt page, eagerly asking him if it was really okay to spend this much all at once. he'd paid off your loans and the remaining balance of your current semester. you felt like you were floating, to say the least.

kento was more than happy to pay these debts off, but he'd assumed that if you had any they would've been your first priority, not a scrubdaddy and a dish rack. he deflated once again at the mere memory.

you chuckled fondly at the display, reaching to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "fine, fine. let's go."

his brows knit tightly as you input the address into his phone, sticking it to the dash before securing your seatbelt. you had him park a bit away from a 7-eleven. he followed you hesitantly, watching as you hummed quietly to yourself, a bounce in our step as the two of you took a short walk down to akihabara station. you stopped with your arms spread in a grandiose gesture, the wall behind you stacked floor to ceiling with gashapon machines.

"i've always wanted to try one of these, but the probability that I would get what I wanted on my first try was always slim." you explained as your eyes scanned the wall for a specific capsule series. you held your palm open asking for coins which kento handed to you with a gentle smile.

he watched you for who knows how long. the capsules kept coming, countless duplicates filling his arms. and it was worth it to see your smile, bright and unashamed, every time you popped a capsule open.

"ah, finally!" you cheered as you turned to kento, a small plastic sandwich in the palm of your hand, the same sandwich he got everyday for lunch.

his heart overflowed, spreading heat across his chest. you'd gone through all that work just to get his sandwich. even given the opportunity to do something for yourself you still thought of others, but you were happy and that was enough for him.

"come, come! I think I saw one that had a desk like the one in your office." you beamed, eyes busy searching for the machine with every intention to set these figures up in the corner of your own desk. somewhere along the way kento left you for a moment just to stop by a store for a bag, dumping all your gachas in it until you got exactly what you were looking for. a smile plastered on his face as you continuously loaded coins into the machine.

he rests a hand on your thigh on the drive home, pinching it just enough to grab your attention. "thank you," he whispers, bringing your hand to his face to kiss at your knuckles. thank you for showing him all the small happiness the world had. he had a lot to learn from you.

part 1 | sugar daddy kento masterlist | jjk men x reader masterlist

divider by @tyuniwa

tag list : @that-goth-bisexual @yannauauau

[gomtangii]

can't keep my hands to myself

minors and ageless dni professor!caleb x grad student TA fem!reader wc: 1.9k cw: caleb's in his late 20s (like 28-29 maybe) while reader is around 23-25, stalker caleb KINDA, not a lot of foreplay just making out mostly, penetration, unprotected sex, lmk if there's anything im missing :3

the youngest and hottest professor at skyhaven skyline university and you get to be his teacher assistant (TA). how lucky. you've been blessed ever since you started university—you got to take professor xia's class despite so many other people coveting for a spot and camping course request for days, you get accepted back to your alma mater for grad school a year after undergrad, and professor xia chose you to be his TA. every other person that applied is probably seething with jealousy, but little do you know how calculated this is.

it all started during your senior year of undergrad when you sat not too close to the front, but still close enough to make proper eye contact with him on the first day of class. caleb was nervous, it was his first class that he was teaching as a professor after all. he was hiding it well, but his mind was racing until he saw you. it's not like you calmed it down or anything, but rather you gave him something to be distracted from his nervousness: lust. the moment he saw you stirred an unquenchable thirst in him and he doesn't know why. your rosy cheeks, glossy lips, crossed legs in that pink plaid skirt, and bright eyes that said you were ready to learn. how cute.

and just like that, the semester flies by and all you did was tempt him with your cute little skirts and dresses every time you showed up to class. it was a shame he let you get away... except he really didn't. there's no way caleb would've let you go without keeping tabs on you the entire time through your well-used social media. he'd save his favorite photos for his personal use even though you never posted anything risqué because caleb was truly depraved. he could probably jack off to a photo of you smiling in a simple sundress because that's all it took, that's how much you drive him insane.

but now you're back in the palm of his hands. he couldn't believe his perfect girl wanted to be his TA, it was like a dream come true. when you walked in with that blush on your face, a pleated skirt and tweed jacket, he wanted to bend you over his desk, but he held back, made you wait for a day or two, then emailed you that you got the position.

first day of classes and you were excited to learn that you two would be sharing the same office. although your office hours were different, you'd still be working closely with him and that made you even more giddy. you began to foster a sort of friendship with the professor. you would get each other coffee, eat lunch, talk about stuff pertaining to classes, etc. you felt comfortable with him. even if he did touch your bare knee occasionally, or pass by you with a hand on your waist, or tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, you didn't mind! in fact, you kind of liked it. err... you really liked it. so much so that you would stay for his office hours just to be with him.

one day you tried to stay during his office hours, but he actually turns you away, telling you that he's really busy and has to send something in by the end of the day. you offer to help like the good girl you are and he can't refuse your cute pout, so he lets you. and drags it out until it gets dark so that he can offer you a ride home that he knows you'll take. as you arrive at your apartment, you're holding onto the hem of your dress, looking at him nervously.

"um... do you... want to come in for a bit...?" you ask softly, fiddling with your thumbs when you realize that might've been weird, "j-just for a cup of coffee! because, y'know, youworkedsohardandit'slateandidon'twantyoutobetiredwhenyoudrivebackh—"

"i would like that a lot," he chuckles at your blabbering, smiling at you affectionately.

you lead him inside, suddenly feeling conscious about the decor of your apartment. will he think you have bad taste? is it too minimal? too messy? unkept? or—

"it's cute, really resembles you," his eyes crinkle at the corners as he says that, tucking a hair behind your ear. you blush, looking at your feet, not noticing him leaning in. his lips are a breadth away from yours as he looks into your eyes, mirroring your hesitance.

“is—is this okay?” he whispers, his eyes looking at your lips for a moment before returning his gaze to you. you lightly nod, but he just shakes his head.

“words, pretty girl. need you to say it for me,” and you melt.

“yes.”

in that instant, he kisses you, it’s soft and brief, as if he doesn’t want to hurt you or scare you away, but it’s not enough. you pull him back to you, your lips melding on his. he freezes only for a moment before pulling you flush against his body, his hands flying to your waist. your arms are wrapped around his neck as he picks you up and places you on the countertop, both of you never breaking the kiss.

“fuck, i’ve wanted this for so long and i—” he nips your ear, “i just like you so much, i always have.”

“i like you too, i’ve liked you for so long, but i didn’t know how—i didn’t know if this… this was okay.” you confess. even now, you still have your own reservations about making out with your professor. you weren’t sure if he really liked you either or if he was just playing around.

“it’s okay with me. i don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he explains, looking for any hint of doubt, trying to ease them, “i’m in love with you.”

your cheeks flush as you lean your head against his chest.

“say it again.”

“i’m in love with you?” he chuckles, repeating himself.

“again.”

“i love you.”

“...i love you too.” you kiss for the millionth time that night, his lips trailing from your lips, to your cheek, ears, and neck. you moan softly and he’s already addicted. he teases you again, nipping at your collarbone when you whine, asking him to carry you both to your room upstairs. he holds you with one arm as he leads the way and you’ve never realized how… buff he is. you knew he worked out, he had told you that he goes on runs in the morning and goes to the gym after his classes, but you didn’t think he’d be this strong!

he gently lays you on your bed, hovering over you when you paw at his shirt. his heart squeezes from how cute you are and he just can’t help but oblige. he strips off his shirt in one swift motion and you press your thighs together at the sight, the motion doesn’t go unseen. he slowly unbuttons your shirt and you let him, making eye contact the entire time. he stares at your body as if he’s searing it into his mind. he presses kisses against your collarbone, not wanting to leave marks as to not inconvenience you, but starts trailing towards your cleavage. he cups your breasts through your bra, burying his face between them, savoring them. he lets them spill out from the cups and he groans. everything about you is beautiful, he just wants to worship you.

he’s careful not to leave marks, he doesn’t want to inconvenience you, but you don’t seem to share the same sentiment. you pause him in his tracks, pushing him onto the bed instead as you straddle his lap. he cocks an eyebrow, but lets you do what you want. you kiss his neck and he grips your hips tightly, grinding against you with soft groans. you mark him up, hickeys, bites, and lipstick stains his neck and chest, and he loves it. yeah he’s going to have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow in the middle of Spring, but he doesn’t mind. he continues to grind against you, rolling his hips up when you yelp when he hits a certain spot, and he snaps. he manhandles you into a new position and giggle as he’s desperate to get into your pants. he fumbles with your zipper so you help him, placing your hands on top of his and leading him slowly through it. he doesn’t even take off your pants all the way before unbuckling his belt and lowering his own just enough for his cock to flop out. he’s in such a rush, only pulling your panties aside when he teases you with his tip, letting it get coated in your slick.

“princess, you’re so wet,” he smirks, dipping his tip in before popping it back out, eliciting a whine from you.

“professor xia—”

“caleb. call me caleb.”

“c-caleb, please, stop teasing, i’m wet enough, i can take it—” you gasp when he pushes his cock in, the stretch bigger than you expected. he goes as slow as he can to not overwhelm you, but your eyes are still rolling back. when he finally bottoms out, he just stays there, his body against yours as he savors your warmth and tightness. you beg for him to move in a cute, needy voice, and he can’t resist you. he can’t deny you when you’re asking so sweetly, can he?

so he does just as you asked for. he lets his cock drag against your walls as he pulls out, taking all the time in the world, before thrusting back in quickly. you gasp again when sets a brutal pace, rutting into you like a mad man because his fantasies for the past two years are finally coming true.

“princess, you’re so t-tight,” he groans, his balls slapping against your clit and his tip kissing your cervix.

“no, y-you’re too big,” you retort, moaning uncontrollably as you hold onto his shoulders.

he curses for the first time as he grabs your pants, yanking them off along with your panties so that he can have full access to your cunt. he grips your thighs and pushes you back so they lay against your chest, reaching even deeper than before. he thumbs your clit while fucking you rougher than he would’ve liked for your first time together, but he can’t help himself. you’re so delicious. there’s so many things he wanted to do with you, but he couldn’t hold himself back. he wanted to finger you and eat you out for hours, to edge you and overstimulate you at the same time, worship your body from head to toe, but the moment he heard you moan, he lost all reason.

his thrusts are getting sloppy as your moans are getting louder when you finally snap, cumming and squeezing his cock oh, so good, making him reach his peak as well. he spills his cum into you, groaning against your shoulder, biting down softly as you hold him close, not letting him go or pull out. when you both come down from your highs, he kisses your temple, but his cock is still hard.

“ah, one more round? or did you want that coffee break?”

oh god. am i ovulating? cuz why did a video of caleb in glasses captioned with "professor caleb" make me run to tumblr

[shadow-bender]

If you're thinking about grad school im begging you to get into contact with grad students both in the department and lab you're considering applying to. Or your advisors, other/former grad students. Ask for a zoom meeting or to meet up in person (if you live close) so you can talk privately and not leave any paper trails if they have negative things to say about the department/advisor.

Im so serious. I haven't been paid since June. My advisor is hardpressed to show up on time if he shows up at all. 2 new people have joined our lab and I'm just sitting here like 😬😬😬

Im not even joking I've told undergrads not to go to grad school here. Grad school is difficult on its own but it's worse when you don't get paid on time, your bills are piling up and you're forced to come to terms with the fact that not only does your advisor not give a shit about your research he actively doesn't even know what your research is about.

Im so serious please, be careful in choosing a grad program/advisor especially if you're from a marginalized community. I ignored alot of red flags, bc i wanted to be at a university close to my Tribe and area of study and im now realizing just how much i was only accepted into this lab bc having a token Native working on decolonial science makes you look good even if you can't be bothered to know what any of it means

[chimcess]

Bittersweet || myg (2)

Pairing: Yoongi x ReaderOther Tags: Grad Student!Yoongi, Undergrad!Reader, Grad Student!Hoseok, Uncle!Namjoon, Doctor!Namjoon, Grad Student!Jimin, Fuckboy!Jungkook, GradStudent!Jungkook, Boss!Seokjin, Yoongi POV Genre: College!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, kinda Student/Teacher but not really, Older!Yoongi, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut Word Count: 19.9k+ Summary: When a cynical graduate student meets an overly enthusiastic undergraduate, the air crackles with tension—though not all of it is good. Warnings: Mean!Yoongi, bitter grad student to the max, strong language, Jimin is still a snitch, possible wrong science information (i'm sorry i'm not perfect), sexual tension, Yoongi pining and being in love for almost 20k words, kissing at work, almost caught, graphic s*x scenes, non-descriptive smut as well, Jealous!Yoongi, i'm sorry but this JK is kind of a slime ball, Reader knows what she's doing, they're adorable, lots of bickering, drunk Yoon, drunk texting, they're both the biggest dorks on the planet, reader sleep talks, multiple sex scenes, oral (m&f receiveing), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, handjobs, all things considered these two are very vanilla, some dirty talk, reader mostly takes charge, public sex, sex at work, shower sex, again they're still dorks even when they're in bed, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Here's the second (and final) installment of this little two-shot. Thanks for reading!

Prev

I decided not to make a fuss about the stupid recruitment party. It was just a way for them to shove fresh-faced recruits down our throats, anyway. Instead of hitching a ride with Hoseok and Serena, I opted to walk alone, letting the cool night air wash over me. The campus felt both familiar and alien in the twilight, the shadows stretching long and eerie across the cracked pavement. Walking had always been my way of clearing my head, but tonight it felt like a futile exercise.

As soon as I stepped inside the venue, the noise slammed into me—laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses mingling into a chaotic symphony of youthful energy. I scanned the room, and when my eyes landed on her, I couldn’t help but groan. Y/N was there, and she was wearing those jeans—God, they looked painted on, hugging her curves in a way that sent my pulse racing. Her legs stretched endlessly, accentuated by those unforgiving black heels that screamed danger. My throat tightened with the realization: she was wearing fuck-me heels.

Fuck me indeed…

I shook my head, forcing myself to look away, as if her mere presence was some twisted magnet pulling me closer. I made my way to the bar at the back, seeking refuge against the wall while I nursed a drink, pretending to be absorbed in the chaos around me. But it didn’t take long before my eyes betrayed me, drawn back to her like a moth to a flame. She was laughing with a group of kids—probably this year’s recruits—her smile radiant and infectious.

Then, like a bad omen, Jungkook sauntered in, drink in hand, striding over to her with that cocky grin of his.

“Yoongi’s here! Let the party begin!” Serena’s voice cut through my thoughts, grating like nails on a chalkboard. I grimaced.

“What took you so long? Had trouble matching that sweater?” Hoseok appeared behind her, donning a tie that screamed ‘pretentious.’

I shot Serena a look, raising an eyebrow, and she responded with a smirk, clearly reveling in my discomfort.

“Yeah… not all of us have the privilege of being dressed by our girlfriends,” I muttered, bitterness creeping into my tone.

“Come on… I kid, I kid,” Hoseok laughed, draping an arm over my shoulder.

“I’ll leave you two to your bromance,” Serena rolled her eyes, tossing her hair back. “I better go suck up to my P.I.”

“How are you?” Hoseok’s tone shifted, sensing the dark cloud hanging over me.

“I’m peachy,” I replied, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

“I see…” He glanced in Y/N’s direction. “Oh… I see.”

“Yeah, well, Jungkook’s trying to get her drunk,” I hissed through clenched teeth, watching as he leaned in closer.

“Right. Jeon’s all over your zygote’s business,” he replied, a knowing smirk on his lips.

I groaned into my beer, bitterness churning in my stomach.

“C’mon! More drinking, less brooding!” He smacked my back playfully, but it only deepened the pit of resentment growing inside me.

An hour later, I was still a wallflower, slouched against my corner, shamelessly staring at Y/N as she flitted around the room. Jungkook kept swooping in like a hawk, but she brushed him off, her laughter echoing like a melody in the air. That was a relief, at least. Yet, reality settled in like a thick fog: she hadn’t even noticed me yet.

Then, our eyes locked. Time seemed to freeze, and I swear I involuntarily smiled. She walked toward me, a small grin dancing on her lips, and I was struck by how her hair flowed over her shoulders, the softness of it almost intoxicating. “Is that a new sweater?” she asked, her voice sweet and melodic.

“Are you making fun of me?” I shot back lightly.

“No…” she chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “You look good.”

“You look good too,” I replied, the words feeling flat against the brilliance of her presence. Well, that was an understatement—she looked stunning.

“You shouldn’t be drinking,” I said, gesturing to the beer in her hand, feeling an unexpected rush of protectiveness.

“Why not?” She brought the bottle to her mouth, her lips wrapping around it like an invitation.

Focus, Min!

“Are you twenty-one yet?” I blurted out, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Are you the party police?”

“Very funny,” I deadpanned, annoyance creeping in as I waited for her answer.

“If you must know, I am twenty-one already, thank you very much.”

“You are?” I was genuinely surprised. She didn’t seem old enough to be a senior, not with that wide-eyed enthusiasm.

“Yep, I missed a year in junior high. No biggie.” She shrugged, casual as ever.

“Oh…” The admission surprised me, stirring questions in my mind. What could have caused someone as smart and driven as her to miss a year?

My distraction drifted away as my gaze returned to her shoulders, delicate freckles dusting her skin, catching the fading light.

“Oh! I haven’t met that one!” Y/N quipped, spotting another recruit. “Be right back.”

I was entranced, eyes glued to her as she walked away, her hips swaying like a pendulum, counting down the moments until she returned. I was royally screwed. Somewhere along the way, I’d transformed from oblivious to hyper-aware, every single action of hers magnified under the microscope of my attention. How could I go back to not seeing her when each new thing I noticed sent heat flooding through me?

Y/N returned, all smiles, clutching another beer bottle that she’d snatched from Jungkook. “Why are you so angry?” she asked, leaning against the wall next to me.

“Y/N, I’m not angry. I’m having fun.” I tried to sound calm, but my voice cracked like thin ice.

“This is you having fun?” she countered, gesturing to my slumped posture with her beer.

“Yes,” I insisted, though my gaze lingered on the constellation of freckles scattered across her nose.

“Standing in the corner, looking at everyone like you’re a bodyguard, or an undercover cop—that’s you having fun?”

“Yes.” I shrugged, clinging to some semblance of composure.

“You’re angry.” She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in playful challenge.

“I’m not angry!” But deep down, the heat was rising inside me.

She laughed, the sound bubbling up like a mountain spring. “You’re frowning.”

“Because you’re driving me insane!” I inhaled deeply, trying to relax, but she was intoxicating.

“Why?” She stepped closer, her presence an electric charge in the air.

“Because you’re too happy.” And adorable…

“What’s wrong with being happy?” she retorted, her hand perched on her hip, radiating defiance.

My eyes drifted back to her, tracing the curve of her hip accentuated by those devilish pants. I closed my eyes, taking another deep breath to steady myself. “It’s extremely annoying.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” Her smile morphed into a giggle, and I groaned, feeling the weight of my frustration. “Do I really annoy you so much?”

She peered at me, eyebrows knitting together, a small frown blossoming on her face. I resisted the urge to look at her lips, afraid that if I did, I might just pull her in and kiss her right there.

“Yes,” I groaned, hoping my eyes conveyed that my answer was really “no.”

She held my gaze, and it felt like we were suspended in time, the world around us fading into insignificance. My fingers tightened around the neck of my beer bottle, anxiety coiling in my stomach. With a sigh, she shook her head and walked away again, leaving me alone with my turbulent thoughts.

Honestly, Y/N’s unyielding happiness, her enthusiasm, and all that radiance—it wasn’t annoying at all. It was refreshing, endearing, and it inspired me in ways I hadn’t felt in years. I couldn’t help but remember the excitement I once felt about starting this journey, how my heart raced at the thought of diving into research. What had changed? What did success even mean if there was no one to share it with?

So yes, Y/N’s happiness was far from annoying.

What was truly infuriating was that she made it impossible for me to keep my hands to myself.

“Jungkook offered to walk me home,” Y/N said, her voice slicing through the murmur of the crowd like a knife. I kept my gaze fixed on the throng, avoiding her bright eyes, filled with something I couldn’t quite decipher. “But I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

When I finally turned to look at her, a smile tugged at her lips, a spark of mischief lighting her features. “I think you might be right about him—he is kind of a tool.”

A snort escaped me, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. “Plus I don’t trust him.”

“I don’t trust him either, Y/N,” I admitted, feeling the weight of my own words. It was the only reason I was here, shadowing her like a ghost.

“Can I lie and tell him you’re walking me home instead?”

Her gaze catches mine, and I’m momentarily swept away in the depths of her beautiful eyes, glowing softly under the dim lights, as if they’re hiding secrets just waiting to be uncovered. 

“You don’t have to lie, Y/N. I’ll walk you home myself,” I say, my voice dripping with sincerity I didn’t know I had. She looks down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, an unintentional cue for me to look away.

When she finally says she’s ready to leave, we exchange goodbyes, and she pauses at the door, rummaging through her bag. I can’t help but smile when she pulls out a pair of black Chucks. As she grips my arm to slide off her high heels, I catch a flicker of discomfort flash across her face.

“Are you okay?” I ask, concern bubbling up.

“Yeah, my feet are killing me,” she replies, a hint of laughter in her voice.

“I could go get my car.”

“Nonsense. It’s just ten minutes away,” she insists, slipping her shoes back on, and we begin our trek.

As we walk toward her building, she animatedly recounts stories about prospective students, her voice weaving a vibrant tapestry that pulls us closer together. It’s no wonder she’s so well-liked; anyone would be a fool not to adore her. 

“Can you hold these?” she asks, passing me her heels as we reach her building. A twinge of envy strikes me at the sight of those dainty straps that had just hugged her ankles.

She digs through her purse, clearly on a mission. 

“Shit…” Frustration laces her voice. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have my keys… I must have left them inside, in my other bag.”

“Oh…” I glance at the time. It’s past two in the morning. 

Should I offer her a place to stay? That’s what any decent person would do, right? But what if… what if I couldn’t keep my hands to myself?

“I’m so stupid!” she exclaims, smacking her forehead with the heel of her hand.

“Hey, relax… um… I have a bed. I mean, a couch.” 

She looks up at me, skepticism dancing across her features.

“Really, it’s no problem.” I shrug, trying to keep my tone casual, as if it’s just a simple offer rather than an opportunity for something more.

Her expression remains doubtful.

“That’s what graduate student mentors are for, right?”

A small grin appears on her lips, and I can’t help but smile back. If all else fails, maybe I could find a way to make her smile like that—nothing would make me happier.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah… it’s not like it’d be awkward or anything,” I tease, and her laughter lifts the tension in the air.

It takes us about twenty minutes to reach my apartment. Y/N talks a mile a minute, and I barely manage to squeeze a word in, but I don’t mind; her voice wraps around me like a warm blanket on a chilly night.

As we climb the steps of my building, I notice her wince again, gripping the railing for support.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Worry creeps in; she looks genuinely pained.

She takes a deep breath, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Y/N, please, just tell me what’s wrong.” I reach for her hand, desperate to ease whatever discomfort she’s feeling.

“Can we just go inside?” She clutches my hand tighter. “I’ll tell you, I promise.”

I help her inside and guide her to the couch. She collapses onto it with a shaky breath, extending her legs and rubbing her thighs—a gesture that sends a pang of concern through me.

“It’s not a big deal,” she begins, trying to sound lighthearted. “Sometimes I get pain in my legs from an old injury.”

“Oh… can I get you something for it?”

“Just water is fine.” She digs through her bag and pulls out a bottle of ibuprofen, shaking it at me with a smile.

As I rush to the kitchen, unease coils in my stomach. She had been walking the whole time, and I hadn’t even noticed she was in pain. I pour two glasses of water, my hands trembling slightly as I hand one to her and settle down beside her.

“You should’ve told me you were hurting, Y/N. I would have gotten the car.”

“I’m all right.” She gives me a soft smile, glancing around my sparsely decorated apartment. “Your place is nice.”

Nice? It’s barren—like a forgotten room in an old house where laughter used to echo. I turn the glass of water in my hands, my mind racing. “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

She meets my gaze as I take a sip. “If you’re wondering if I’m a virgin, the answer is no.”

I choke on the water, caught off guard by her sudden candor. “Jesus Christ, woman, how drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk at all. I’m just messing with you. What were you going to ask?”

I look at her, heat rising in my cheeks as the tension coils between us. “I was just curious about how you got injured,” I admit, my thoughts drifting to the whirlwind of emotions churning inside me.

“Oh, well… My mom and I were in a car accident. I broke my hip and both my legs.” She says it so casually, as if she’s recounting a minor scrape.

“What?”

“Yeah… it was okay, though. After rehab, I was as good as new!” She beams, her enthusiasm a stark contrast to the weight of her words.

“How long was rehab?”

“Long enough.” 

I remember something she mentioned earlier. “Long enough to make you miss a year in school?”

She responds with a grin and a nonchalant shrug. “Shit, Y/N. That sucks. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’m actually glad it happened.” Her gaze drifts down to her legs, fingers tracing an invisible path over her thighs. “It brought my parents back together, just as they were meant to be.”

Her eyes return to mine, and the intensity of her words fills the air. “My parents got divorced when I was little, and my mom and I moved to Florida. But after the accident, my dad came to help, and they just… clicked, I guess. They’ve been together ever since.” She smiles proudly, and I sit there, stunned.

A strand of hair falls across her face, and I can’t resist the urge to tuck it behind her ear—an excuse to bridge the distance between us. With every detail she shares, I feel myself drawn closer, tangled in her life, as if I’m getting lost in her depths.

“Okay…” I set my glass down on the coffee table, the clink echoing like a heartbeat in the stillness. “I think you deserve the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Why?”

“Because I just made you walk—”

“It’s not your fault. I locked myself out.”

“Y/N, please…”

“Okay, okay… don’t get all grumpy on me.” She stands, and I hover over her, uncertain how to help, torn between the urge to support her and the instinct to maintain some distance.

“Hey, stop it.” She steadies herself with a hand on my arm. “I’m fine. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I lead her to my bedroom, showing her where the bathroom is. I offer her some of my clothes to change into, but she declines, insisting it wouldn’t be the first time she slept in jeans.

She sits on the bed, and just as I’m about to leave, she calls out, “Yoongi?”

I turn, and she gestures for me to sit beside her, lying back on the comforter, vulnerability etched into her features.

I swallow hard as I lower myself next to her, the proximity amplifying the tension crackling in the air.

“I’m glad you don’t hate me anymore.”

I stare awkwardly at her, afraid to move and wake her up. Leaning back against the headboard, I let the silence linger, my mind racing with all the things I want to say. I want to know her—really know her—not just as the emotionally unavailable guy I’ve been until now.

Hoseok was right—I've got it bad for Y/N Y/L/N.

I think I preferred it when Y/N was just a blurry thought in my mind, hidden behind a blindfold I’d created to shield my heart. Back then, I didn’t have to wrestle with the urge to kiss her or feel the tempting softness of her hair against my fingers. But now, the blindfold has slipped away, and so has my common sense. Here I am, a hopeless observer, lurking in the shadows as she sleeps, feeling like a total creep.

Her face is peaceful, like a canvas painted with serenity, only occasionally disturbed by the flutter of her lashes. Her lips form a perfect little "o," and the way her bangs fall delicately over her forehead sends my heart racing. I long to reach out, to push them aside, to bury my hands in her hair like I did before. Slowly, I lift my hand, inching it closer to her face, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

“Jack!” Y/N suddenly cries out, her voice slicing through the silence like glass. My heart jumps. “There’s a boat, Jack!” The frown that creases her brow twists her serene expression into something frantic, as if she’s caught in a storm of dreams.

What is happening? Is she having a nightmare? Who’s Jack? 

Just as quickly, her face smooths over again, tranquility restored as if the storm has passed, leaving only a gentle breeze behind.

Isn’t it just my luck? Y/N talks in her sleep, and apparently, she’s got a soft spot for someone named Jack—maybe a sailor too. 

I could rent a boat. We could go sailing if she wanted. Maybe I could learn to sail. If Jack can do it, how hard could it be? Does she even like sailing? I’ll ask her tomorrow.

What am I even thinking? No, I’m not going to ask her tomorrow, because we aren’t going sailing. She can go with Jack for all I care.

I groan, burying my face in my hands, frustration and disbelief washing over me. I’ve seriously lost it. This is ridiculous.

“Fucking Jess ate my Chobani again,” Y/N mutters, jolting me from my thoughts. Jess? Who the hell is that? And what even is a Chobani?

I should go. I shouldn’t be here, lurking in the shadows, eavesdropping on this craziness.

“Jonah Rodgers thinks I’m sexy…” 

For the love of God! Is she trying to drive me mad?

Jonah Rodgers? The name sounds familiar. Do I know him? Is he that jerk who used to stalk her? 

The stalker. Damn it. If I were still T.A.-ing, I’d fail him for disrespecting Y/N in this way.

I can’t take this anymore. If she mentions another guy, I swear I’m going to lose it. I sit at the edge of the bed, ready to leave, but before I can move, Y/N speaks again.

“Does Yoongi think I’m sexy?” 

I do, I do, I do…

“Hmm… my Grumpy.” 

Her soft moan sends a jolt of electricity coursing through me, and I’m utterly unprepared—shredded, breathless, completely undone. 

Does she mean me? She called me Grumpy once, right? Said I was the only Grumpy she knew. Am I her Grumpy?

Shit, shit, shit!

I slump back against the headboard, the realization both thrilling and terrifying. 

Is Y/N dreaming about me? Is it wrong that this feels so right? That my heart is swelling with excitement at the thought of being part of her dreams?

I turn to look at her again. She’s frowning now, exaggerated and cute, her lips pouting in a way that tugs at my heart.

“Do not touch my samples, Becca!” Her voice is low and raspy. “Don’t be so happy, Becca!” And then she smiles, as if a hidden joke just crossed her mind. “Run, Becca! Run!” 

Oh, she’s definitely dreaming about me, just not in the way I had hoped.

She’s making fun of me—in her dreams.

Wonderful.

I groan, letting my head thud back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling as disappointment settles over me like a heavy shroud. I shouldn’t be wishing for Y/N to dream about me; it would only complicate things. We can’t be together; this will never work.

In a year, I’ll graduate, and then it’ll be New York City, and Estelle all over again. Estelle and I had been together for four years when we graduated from Cornell. She wanted me to get a “real” job, to move with her to New York. She wanted me to abandon the chance for grad school at UW, to work at one of the top cancer research centers in the country. She made me choose, and I chose research.

And you know what? I have no regrets. Even though she didn’t know everything about my parents, she knew it mattered to me—she shouldn’t have made me choose. So when she said, “If you leave, we’re done,” I left. I figured I was better off alone, or as she put it, “end up alone and rot in lab hell.” It didn’t seem like such a sacrifice then—my relationship with Estelle was mediocre at best.

So, I dove headfirst into grad school and landed in one of the best labs in the program. I didn’t let any woman get in my way. I was focused, determined—until I woke up four years later, an angry, bitter shell of a man, nursing my bruised pride.

What a wake-up call that was! Suddenly, I started noticing everything—the things I fought so hard to ignore. I had worn blinders for so long, and I missed so much.

Honestly, I never expected to feel so unfulfilled.

Isn’t this what I wanted when I chose to leave Estelle? What am I missing? Why am I not enjoying my work anymore?

I glance at Y/N again. Her expression is peaceful once more, an angelic mask that makes me ache with longing. I can see myself falling for her easily—if I’m lucky, she might fall for me too. But then what? 

Then I’ll have to choose: my work, my life, what I owe to my parents, over her. She’ll make me choose, and I’ll choose science—cancer research—and it will shatter us both. This time, it would be the greatest sacrifice I’d ever have to make. And honestly, I’m not even sure I’d be strong enough to make that decision. If Y/N were to love me back, how could I hurt her like that?

I sigh, dragging a hand down my face, the weight of my thoughts pressing heavily on my chest.

Y/N is smiling now, giggling softly, her laughter a haunting melody in the quiet room. How someone can giggle in her sleep is beyond me. After a while, she calms, her breathing slowing even more. With a sigh, I close my eyes and wait, holding my breath for what she might say next.

I wake with a start, my neck and back screaming in protest from the unforgiving embrace of the headboard. I must’ve slept in the same awkward position all night, unmoving. Stretching my arms, I blink against the morning light, squinting at my watch. Seven o’clock. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut—Y/N is gone.

Rubbing my sore neck, I drag myself out of bed and around the apartment, searching for any sign of her. Her bag and heels are missing. An uneasy feeling churns in my stomach as I plod back to the bed, my mind racing with questions about where she could have gone so early. That’s when I notice the slip of paper on the nightstand.

Morning, Grumpy!   I had to leave to get my keys from the landlord.   Thanks for letting me crash last night.   Sorry for your sore neck.   Y/N. :)

I face-plant onto the bed with a groan, trying to drown out the hollow emptiness she left behind. Her scent lingers on the pillows, sweet and intoxicating, wrapping around me like a vise. I inhale deeply, the fragrance filling my lungs, but instead of comfort, it brings a gnawing ache. Grumpy... I’m her Grumpy. The thought claws at me, relentless and unyielding.

Monday drags in like a slow, inevitable doom. I sit silently in the lunchroom with Hoseok, who prattles on about the success of the recruitment party. His voice is background noise, barely penetrating my thoughts. Thankfully, he hasn’t asked about Y/N yet.

“So, is Yoonji coming this weekend?” he asks, mid-chew of his sandwich.

“Yes. Friday,” I mutter, my mind elsewhere.

“Awesome! Oh man…” He swallows, excitement clear in his voice. “I can’t wait for next week! Spring Break: no undergrads, the gyms and bars all to ourselves!”

“Is it Spring Break next week?” My voice cracks, surprise jolting me back to reality. I had completely forgotten.

“Yeah!”

Great. My stomach twists with dread. Is Y/N leaving for Spring Break? She probably is, isn’t she? The uneasy feeling intensifies, so I shove a forkful of macaroni into my mouth, trying to silence it.

“What’s up your ass?” Hoseok asks suddenly, narrowing his eyes at me.

I shake my head, dismissing him

. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Seriously?” His disbelief is palpable. “You look like you just downed a bottle of aspirin. Come on, tell me what’s wrong.” 

His eyes are kind, but they only intensify the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. 

I stare down at my plate, willing the irritation to simmer down. He’s my best friend—he deserves to know. But how can I explain this mess? The whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me? 

“Y/N…” I finally murmur, the name tasting foreign on my tongue. 

“Y/N? The girl you were with at the party? What about her?”

“Uh…she crashed here last night. She left this morning to get her keys from the landlord.” I avoid his gaze, my cheeks warming at the admission.

“Dude, that’s awesome!” he grins, elbowing me lightly. “So, you guys are getting serious?”

I scoff, shaking my head. “I don’t know about that.”

Hoseok’s smile falters. “What do you mean? You like her, right?”

“Of course I do!” The admission bursts out before I can stop myself, surprising both of us. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the tide of emotions swelling within me. “But it can’t go anywhere. She’s leaving, Hoseok. She’s probably going to some fancy college or… some fancy job.”

“So? You guys can make it work! Do you want to make it work?”

“I don’t know! I don’t want to hurt her. I can’t…” I trail off, frustration bubbling back to the surface. “I can’t let myself get caught up in this. I’ve worked too hard for my future to throw it all away for her.”

“Wait, what? Throw it all away? You really think you can’t have both? That you can’t just have fun while also focusing on your studies?”

I’m silent, my insides twisting again, a potent mix of anger and sadness at the thought of losing Y/N. “It’s not that simple,” I finally reply.

“Why not? You just told me she crashed here last night! You can’t pretend this doesn’t matter! You can’t keep running from it forever, Yoongi!” His voice rises, frustration spilling over.

“Why are you getting so worked up over this?” I snap, staring at him with incredulity.

“Because I’m sick of seeing you sulk, man!” His hands fly up in exasperation. “You can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t matter! Just tell her how you feel, for fuck’s sake!”

I shake my head, the weight of his words crashing down around me, the walls closing in. I feel suffocated, cornered. “What if she’s not interested? What if I scare her away?”

“Then at least you’ll know! At least you’ll have closure, and you can move on!” 

His voice rings in my ears, echoing through the tangled web of my thoughts. I look down, realizing he’s right. 

I take a deep breath, steadiness creeping back in. “You’re right.” I want to scream. “You’re so right.” But the truth sits heavy on my chest. 

But what if I’m not strong enough to risk everything again? What if I lose her before I ever get to really have her? 

When I get back to the lab, my phone beeps with a new email.

From: Y/N Y/L/N, ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu   Sent: Monday, March 21, 2024, 1:18 PM   To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu

Hey Yoongi,

Is it okay if I miss lab on Tuesday and Wednesday? I have midterms this week before Spring Break, but I promise I’ll make up for the lost time afterward.

Y/N

She’s leaving.

The thought crashes over me like a tidal wave, pulling me under, swirling with anxiety and dread. She won’t even be here this week. The uncertainty gnaws at my insides, promising nothing but torture ahead.

From: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu   Sent: Monday, March 21, 2024, 1:20 PM   To: Y/N Y/L/N, ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu

Fine.

Yoongi Min   PhD Candidate   Kim Lab   Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center   1100 Fairview Avenue North   Seattle, WA 98109-1024

It’s official: I fucking hate Spring Break.

As soon as I get home, desperation drives me to call Yoonji. I tell myself it’s to find out when Y/N will be back, but really, I need to spill everything—the kiss, the night Y/N slept in my bed, the haunting thought of her heading to Cabo for Spring Break.

“Yoongi, I just don’t understand,” Yoonji says, her voice cutting through the fog in my mind. I’m sprawled on the couch, head tilted back, an arm draped over my eyes like a shield against reality.

“To be honest, I think what you’re doing is stupid,” she continues, her frustration palpable. “You’re miserable. I can feel it. Why won’t you give yourself a chance to—”

“To what, Yoonji? You remember what happened with Estelle.”

“Please, Estelle was an unsupportive bitch.”

“I don’t even know Y/N that well!” I blurt out, my voice sharper than I intended. The fear of history repeating itself looms over me like a dark cloud.

“Y/N won’t make you choose, Yoongi.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You said she’s incredibly determined, that she loves research even more than you used to. That doesn’t sound like someone who would oppose you continuing on this path.”

“I don’t know, Yoonji.” I sigh, running my hands over my face, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily on my shoulders.

“Give yourself the opportunity to get to know her. Don’t deny yourself the chance to be with her just because you’re afraid to feel something.”

“I’m not afraid of feeling anything,” I snap, though the truth is, I’m drowning in emotions already. “But I’ll be done with the program in a year.”

“So what? A lot can happen in a year. You know that better than anyone.”

I groan, conceding. She’s right. She’s always right.

“You’re hurting. You care about her, Yoongi. Why do you have to be so blind?” Yoonji’s frustration seeps through the phone, and I can almost picture her pacing, running a hand through her hair.

“What do you suggest I do? Ask her out?” I retort, the idea weighing heavily on my mind. “She’s my undergrad! I don’t even know if she’s interested in me.”

“Didn’t you say she kissed you back?”

“Yes. But she also said she didn’t want to jeopardize her experience in the lab.”

“That means she’s smart. You shouldn’t let your feelings affect your work, especially if she’s under you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a relationship outside of lab.”

The thought of being with Y/N outside those sterile walls sends my heart racing. I lean back against the couch, releasing a shaky breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Have you talked about it again? Have you told her how you feel?” Yoonji presses, her voice softening.

“No. I decided to pretend it never happened.”

“Geez, Yoongi. For such a smart guy, you can be so dense.” Her exasperated sigh echoes in my ears, and I remain silent, letting her words sink in. “You need to talk to her, tell her what’s going on. See what she wants. Tell her what you want.”

Staring at the ceiling, I weigh the possibility of confessing my feelings to Y/N. The prospect terrifies me, yet the urge to be honest gnaws at my insides.

“Yoongi, do you know what you want?” she asks gently.

“Yes. I want to go to sleep.” 

Her frustrated sigh tells me she senses I’m closing off again.

“Do you want to be with her?” she probes softly.

“I’ve never wanted anyone more.”

The truth spills out, raw and unfiltered. Her squeal of excitement on the other end makes me rub my hands on my thighs, trying to contain my nerves.

“Then do yourself a favor and talk to her. I’d bet good money she’s already crazy about you.” Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself considering it more seriously.

We end the call, but sleep eludes me. Images of Y/N in a bikini invade my mind, and there’s no chance of me sleeping tonight.

When I step back into the lab on Thursday after lunch, I’m completely unprepared for the sight of Y/N. She’s there, smiling, and it catches me off guard, my heart racing like it’s just run a marathon. I thought she’d be gone by now, off to live her Spring Break fantasies. My mind has been a battlefield all week, flooded with images of her carefree adventures. Googling “Spring Break activities” had been a catastrophic mistake.

She’s not in her usual lab coat today; instead, she’s wearing a fitted sweater that hugs her figure just right, the V-neck revealing a tantalizing hint of her collarbones. The dark fabric contrasts beautifully with her pale skin, and my imagination betrays me, picturing that skin in a bikini. All I can see is red.

Thankfully, Jimin is nowhere in sight.

“I thought you had better things to do this week,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended as I walk past her, heading toward my desk.

“What do you mean?” Her smile vanishes, replaced by confusion.

“I didn’t know you were coming today. I don’t have time for this.” I wave my hand dismissively, trying to suppress the storm brewing inside me.

“For what? I—I don’t understand.”

These lies spill from my mouth uncontrollably. “Honestly, Y/N, sometimes I think you’re just here for the credits. This isn’t how science works. You need to be consistent.” My voice rises, and I see her flinch.

“Why are you yelling at me? Is this because I missed two days? I’m sorry, Yoongi. I had to study. I promise I’ll make up for it.”

I rub my forehead, frustration clawing at my insides. I know this isn’t her fault, but the anger bubbles over. “Have fun on Spring Break,” I grit out as I storm past her, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Yoongi?” she calls after me, but I keep walking, desperate for fresh air. The cool spring breeze feels like a lifeline, and I gulp it in, trying to calm the chaos inside me. I can’t keep doing this. This is madness.

I don’t get far before I hear Y/N’s voice again, breathless and firm. “Yoongi, what’s the matter with you?” I hadn’t realized she’d followed me. I turn around, and there she is—confused, hurt, and heartbreakingly beautiful.

There’s no point in pretending anymore. I can’t keep up the facade. “I don’t think you really want to know, Y/N.” I run a hand down my face, trying to keep my composure.

She crosses her arms, waiting, an expectant look in her eyes.

“I fucking hate Spring Break, okay? I hate the thought of you parading around with some frat losers, being young, drunk, and reckless. I hate it. I hate all of it.”

Her expression shifts from confusion to understanding, and she relaxes, placing her hands on her hips. A corner of her mouth quirks up. “What are you talking about?”

Is she seriously smirking?

“I’m talking about you going to Cabo San Lucas for Spring Break.”

“Who said I was going to Cabo?” Now she’s fully smiling.

“I don’t know, I just assumed… aren’t you all?” I mumble, embarrassed.

“You have some serious misconceptions about undergrads, Yoongi. We’re not all the same. And that’s not me at all.”

“So you’re not going away for Spring Break?” I ask, still staring at my feet, not wanting to look her in the eye.

“No, I’m not. I was actually looking forward to spending more time in the lab, making up for this week.”

Relief floods through me, but it’s tangled with a crushing sense of shame. “You’re not going away? You’re staying here?” My voice is barely a whisper.

“Yes. That’s what I said.”

I stagger back, feeling like an idiot. I can’t believe I snapped at her like that. As my anger fades, embarrassment rushes in, making my knees feel weak. I might seriously pass out.

“Yoongi? Are you all right?”

I let out a humorless laugh. No, I’m not all right. This is too much.

She steps closer, and I know I won’t be able to resist kissing her if she comes any nearer. I lift my hand in warning and take another step back.

“Yoongi?” Ignoring my gesture, she moves closer and stands right in front of me.

I close my eyes, the truth spilling out uncontrollably. “All I could think about was some punk with his shirt off, a baseball cap on backward, shoving beer down your throat... and it made me want to murder someone.” My hand clutches my chest, heart racing.

She giggles—at my agony? My eyes snap open, and her smile fades under my intense stare. “These past few days have been torture,” I continue. “I can’t get you out of my mind. All I can think about is you—your lips on mine, your legs around my waist. You drive me insane, Y/N. I can’t think straight.”

Y/N’s eyes shine with emotion, and she closes the distance between us, resting her head against my chest. My hand instinctively finds its way to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. She pulls away slightly, and I lift her chin with two fingers, forcing her to meet my gaze. Her eyes glisten, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

When our lips touch, the electric current between us is undeniable. I close my eyes, exhaling through my nose, and cup her face, my thumb brushing her ear, fingers caressing her neck. Y/N grips my shirt, pulling herself closer. When my tongue slips into her mouth, a moan escapes me at the sweetness of her taste.

I can’t stay away from her anymore. I’m not strong enough.

Y/N wraps a hand around my neck, pulling me even closer. My hand travels down her back, wrapping tightly around her waist. I know she can feel my arousal pressing against her, but I don’t care. When she whimpers against my mouth, I know she feels the same.

Is it possible she’s been yearning for this as much as I have? 

Tell her what you want, Min.

“Y/N, wait.” I gently push her back, keeping one hand on her face. She stumbles slightly, holding onto my arm, looking dazed. “I don’t want this to be another kiss you regret. I don’t want you to be swept away by the moment. I want… I want more.”

She gapes at me, panting.

“I’m sorry I’m being so blunt, but I can’t hide this anymore.” I drop my hands to my sides and step back.

“What are you trying to say, Yoongi?” Her confusion is evident.

“What I’m trying to say is that I want to see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I-I think I can come in the afternoon between classes.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N! Would you listen to me? I don’t need you to come to the lab. I want to see you outside of the lab.”

I pinch my nose, trying to calm down, afraid my intensity will scare her away.

“Oh…”

“My cousin is coming to visit. We’re all going out for drinks. Do you want to come with me?”

She looks at me, and then she nods. “Okay.”

Okay… she said yes. Oh my god, she said yes.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that.”

“I know,” she replies, giving me a small grin that weakens my knees. My hand reaches for her face again, addicted to the softness of her skin as I brush her hair behind her ear and stroke her cheek. She stares into my eyes, cheeks burning, and I’m debating whether to kiss her again when I see Jin’s car pull into the parking lot, and I drop my hand immediately.

Shit…

Y/N glances back and sees Jin getting out of his car.

“I should go study, then…” She looks back at me, and I nod, feeling a mix of regret and anticipation. “I’ll catch you later. Call me about tomorrow.” She brushes a timid finger down my arm before turning to leave.

I stay outside for a few more minutes, gathering my thoughts and waiting for my heart to calm down. 

I did it. I asked Y/N out... sort of.

Now what?

Yoonji had turned into a shadow in my apartment, trailing me as I prepared for what felt like the most important night of my life. “Have you been using that stubble trimmer I got you?” she asked, her fingers grazing my jaw as if she were assessing a work of art. 

I nodded, feeling uneasy under her watchful gaze. Deep down, I was already regretting the group date we had planned. The thought of going out with Y/N sent my heart racing; adding my cousin and a few friends into the mix felt like a cosmic joke, and I was definitely the punchline. 

As I rifled through my chaotic closet, I tried to tune her out, running my fingers through my damp hair in a futile attempt to calm my nerves. 

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Leave it to Yoonji to treat every moment like a Broadway performance. I shot her a glare, barely suppressing my frustration as I swept past her in search of my jacket. 

“You’re wearing a polo shirt?” she challenged, disbelief lacing her tone. 

“What’s wrong with a polo shirt?” I snapped, slapping my hands against my thighs in exasperation. The anxiety gnawed at me, and her judgment only fueled the fire. 

Yoonji stepped closer, her expression softening. “Yoongi, my oblivious cousin, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that polo shirt. As long as it doesn’t have holes in it.” 

Relief washed over me like a tide, momentarily pushing my worries aside. I had never cared much for her opinion on my wardrobe; that had never mattered before. But tonight? It wasn’t Yoonji’s approval I craved—it was Y/N’s. I wanted to be more than the cynical grad student she saw in class.

“You look great,” Yoonji said, her smile coaxing a small, reluctant grin from me in return. “If just thinking about her has you acting like this nervous mess, I already know I’m going to love her.”

Yoonji had made it clear she’d ride with Hoseok and Serena so I could pick up Y/N alone. Now, I found myself parked outside her building, panic clawing at my insides. My palms felt clammy as I smoothed them over my thighs, my heart thumping violently against my ribs, and my mouth was desert-dry. It had been ages since I’d done anything like this. Estelle and I had never ventured out much together; I had buried myself in my studies while she lived her own life, leaving me utterly out of practice.

Despite the storm of anxiety raging within me, excitement bubbled up as I thought of Yoonji, Hoseok, and even Serena meeting Y/N. They needed to see how extraordinary she was—smart, caring, and hilariously funny. What thrilled me most was the prospect of spending time with Y/N outside the sterile confines of our lab, engaging with her as something more than just colleagues.

I banged my head against the steering wheel a few times, trying to settle my frayed nerves. My heart leaped when a knock on the window broke through my spiraling thoughts. There she was—Y/N, standing outside with that bright smile and a wave. I quickly unlocked the door, feeling like an utter fool. 

“Hey…” she said as she slid into the car. 

“I’m sorry. I was going to get you. Just… got distracted,” I admitted, feeling like an idiot for letting her down.

“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “Better this way anyway. I didn’t want Jess to see us.”

“Jess?” The name floated through my mind, familiar yet vague—wasn’t she the one from Y/N’s sleep ramblings? The one with the boat?

“Jessica, my roommate,” she explained. “She was in your class last year, and she knows I’m working in your lab… so I don’t want any rumors spreading, you know?”

“My class?” I felt disbelief surge within me. How could this be?

“Intro to Micro. Last Fall. You were our T.A.,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What?” 

“We were both in your class,” she added, unfazed by my shock.

“I was your T.A. last year?”

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure it was me?” I grasped at straws. How could I have overlooked her?

She turned toward me, eyebrow raised in that cute way she had. “Oh, I’m sure.” 

“I’m so sorry,” I blurted out. How could I have forgotten her? 

“It’s okay. You keep to yourself. I get it.” 

“Do we know each other from anywhere else?” My worry twisted into a knot. Had I brushed past her countless times, completely blind to her presence? 

So much time wasted. How incredibly foolish of me.

“Just that class in the fall. Unless you count all the times I waved at you at the gym or smiled at you every Saturday as you passed by my table at the library after getting your coffee.” 

She had been right there all along, and I had missed her completely.

“Shit, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I’ve been such an idiot!” I pounded the heel of my hand against my forehead a few times, embarrassment crashing over me.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Y/N reached for my hand, gently pulling it away from my face.

“No, it’s not. I was completely blind… and I feel like I’ve wasted so much time.” 

“Well, I’m here now…” She smiled, releasing my hand.

“You are.” 

“And you can see me now, right?” 

“You’re all I see now…” The truth swelled in my chest, echoing through me. Y/N was all that mattered, the only one who could unravel this tangled mess of a heart I had. 

“You see?” she said, clasping her hands over her lap. “When you say stuff like that, it makes it really hard to believe you can be such a grump.” She smiled, a shy yet bold thing, and my instinct was to lean in and kiss her, but I tamped down my urge for the sake of the group date.

“Well, no need to worry. I’m still very much a grump.” I offered a wry smile, taking a deep breath. “Shall we do this?” 

Y/N nodded, and I started the car. 

I didn’t mind being a grump, as long as I could be her grump.

When we pulled up to the bar, I rushed to open Y/N's door, but of course, she was already climbing out by the time I reached her side. My gaze landed on the exposed skin of her collarbones, the freckles scattered across her chest—how had I missed them in the car?

Her white top hung loosely on her frame, the neckline dipping low enough to reveal just a hint too much. Luckily, she wore something underneath, but the sheer fabric let me catch glimpses of her silhouette. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who noticed—some guy outside was staring at her like she was the last meal on earth. My hand found her lower back as I guided her inside, urgency propelling me forward.

Hoseok, Yoonji, and Serena were already at a table, and when Yoonji spotted us, her face lit up like it was Christmas morning. I half-expected her to pull out a camera.

“Y/N, this is my cousin, Yoonji. Yoonji, this is Y/N.” Before I could finish my introduction, Yoonji sprang to her feet.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed, pulling Y/N into an enthusiastic embrace. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she cast me a cheeky grin. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Yoonji, calm down,” I thought, but I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. 

“Nice to meet you too, Yoonji,” Y/N replied, her sweetness radiating like a warm glow.

“And you’ve already met Hoseok and Serena.” I gestured to the other two goofballs, who were now staring at Y/N like she was some kind of celestial being.

“Hi, Y/N! How’s life in the undergraduate world?” Hoseok teased as I pulled out a chair for her.

“Lotta drinking, lotta partying… you know, same old, same old.” Y/N shrugged, grinning, and I could see she had already charmed Hoseok.

“So… let’s get to the important stuff.” Hoseok waved a hand at me, a smirk growing on his face. I knew it wouldn’t take long for the teasing to kick in. I rolled my eyes.

“Oh! I know! Yoongi is wearing a polo shirt,” Serena piped up.

“I guess hell froze over, baby,” Hoseok snorted.

“I completely approve, by the way,” Yoonji chimed in, not even bothering to glance my way.

Here we go. I was about to shoot them all a glare when Y/N’s gentle touch on my thigh sent my heart soaring. My eyes darted to hers—she wore a smile that made everything else fade away.

“The cologne… maybe a tad too much?” I heard Serena say.

“Hey, I suggested that!” Yoonji shot back.

The banter continued, but I was lost in Y/N’s gaze, enchanted by the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled at me. The world around us dimmed; it was just her fingers entwined with mine, brushing softly against my palm, the gentle caress of her thumb sending shivers down my spine.

A moment too soon, Y/N turned to address the others. “Why do you guys talk about him like he’s not in the room?” Her words hung in the air, stunning everyone into silence.

I couldn’t believe it. In less than an hour, she had managed to charm my friends while cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

“Well, you’re with him now,” Yoonji finally said, a sly smile creeping across her face. “It’s our job to protect you.”

I would have preferred they protect me from their embarrassing stories, but Y/N seemed to revel in it.

“Protect me from what?” she asked, laughter bubbling in her voice.

“His awful sense of humor,” Serena said, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“Okay, I’m warning you,” I said, grinning back. “You may want to turn around and leave right now.”

Y/N giggled, clearly enjoying herself.

“Hey, if you leave me now, I’m going to assume you’re all crazy,” she said, her smile wide and infectious. 

I couldn’t help but smile back, knowing this night was going to be unforgettable.

As night settled over us, the world transformed into a playground of laughter and playful banter, wrapped in a soft, velvety blanket. The drinks flowed like a tide, and my heart raced with the electric thrill of the evening. I watched Y/N mingle with my friends, and in that moment, something inside me sparked to life, hinting at possibilities I had yet to explore.

I leaned closer, our shoulders brushing, a daring move that sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “What are you doing to me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Just being me,” she replied, her tone light, but the glimmer in her eyes suggested deeper currents.

“Can I hold your hand?” The request slipped from my lips, fragile as a moth's wing.

Surprise flickered across her face as she weighed my words. “Yes.”

The moment our fingers intertwined, warmth rushed through me, narrowing my focus to the electric connection between us. In the distance, Hoseok's teasing banter continued, and Yoonji was lost in conversation with Serena, but they faded into the background. All that mattered was Y/N and the magnetic pull that bound us together.

Yoonji’s voice broke through my reverie. "I'm staying with Em and Serena tonight," she whispered in my ear.

“Yoonji, you don’t need to—”

“Nonsense!” she insisted, her grin stretching wide. “I love her,” she mouthed as she walked away, and I couldn’t help but smile, glancing down at Y/N.

“Oh, you’re not coming with us?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Nope! I need to help Serena pick an outfit for tomorrow. It was really nice to meet you, Y/N. I hope to see you soon!” Yoonji hugged her again, whispering something I couldn’t catch.

Before long, Y/N and I were walking toward my car. I opened the door for her, and she smiled as she slid in. As I drove to her apartment, she asked about Yoonji and our bond. I shared how I moved in with them when I was thirteen, how we’d become like siblings, grateful she didn’t pry into the reasons behind it. Tonight wasn’t the time for shadows of my past.

A comfortable silence fell between us, an unspoken acknowledgment of the fleeting moments we shared. Soon, we arrived in front of her building, and reality crashed in—I was running out of time.

“Can I be honest?” she asked, her voice breaking the silence like a warm breeze.

“Please… always.”

“I don’t want to go home just yet.” She looked at me through her lashes, and my heart raced, a wild beat echoing in my chest.

“Can I be honest too?” I asked, inching closer.

She nodded, biting her lip.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” I leaned in slightly.

Her breath hitched, and she let out a soft sigh. “Can I? Kiss you?” My voice was barely audible, filled with anticipation.

She nodded once, a small smile lighting up her face. I reached for her, brushing her hair back before gently cupping the nape of her neck and pulling her closer.

Our kiss started softly, exploring each other with tentative tenderness. But it quickly grew desperate, fueled by a hunger we could no longer deny. Her hand gripped my shirt, pulling me closer—just as eager. I let my hands roam, one resting on her thigh while the other tangled in her hair, my heart racing with every heartbeat.

“Y/N…” I breathed against her neck, fighting to maintain control. “You need to go inside now, or I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go.”

“Why don’t you come inside with me?” She pulled my face from her neck, her eyes shimmering with mischief and warmth. “Jessica should be gone by now. It’s Spring Break, remember? I might be the only undergrad left.”

The invitation hung in the air, electric and intoxicating. She wanted me to come home with her. Alone. My mind raced as I followed her into her cozy apartment, a space filled with personal touches and the inviting scent of vanilla.

“Welcome to Casa de Jess and Y/N!” she announced, her excitement infectious. “Do you want a tour, Mister?”

I grinned at her playful spirit. “If you’d be so kind, Madam.”

With exaggerated politeness, she led me through her apartment, showing off each room like a proud hostess. “And this is my bedroom.” When she opened the door, my breath caught. It looked like a whimsical explosion of color—pink and feathers everywhere, a bright pink comforter proclaiming “Little Princess” in white letters.

“Oh dear God…” I muttered, glancing around.

“What do you think?” she asked, a hint of seriousness in her tone.

I scratched my neck, searching for the right words. “Um… well… interesting choice of colors, Y/N.”

She burst into laughter, the sound bright and carefree, and I looked at her, puzzled.

“Oh my God! Your face! Priceless!” she exclaimed, doubling over in giggles. “This is Jessica's room!” She laughed so hard she had to lean against the doorframe for support.

“Oh thank God…” I exhaled in relief. “I don’t think I could sleep in here without having nightmares.” I leaned against the doorframe, smiling at the chaos.

But then, her expression shifted from playful to serious as she stepped closer. “Do you expect to be sleeping in my bed anytime soon, Mr. Min?”

“Shit… no… I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” I ran a hand through my hair, mortified.

“Hey…” She stepped between my legs, her hand resting on my chest. “I was joking.” She smiled up at me, and my heart raced. I wanted her, needed her, craved her.

I traced her lip with my thumb. “You know what’s the first thing I noticed about you, Y/N?” She shook her head, her gaze locked on mine. “Your smile… It’s beautiful.”

Her smile widened. “When you smile, you get all gummy and your face softens. Your teeth are small, too. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable? Here I am, telling you I love your smile, and you tell me mine is imperfect. I’m hurt,” I joked, placing a hand over my heart.

“It’s not imperfect. It’s crooked and mind-blowingly sexy.” She giggled, and I couldn’t help but snort.

“See? There it is.” She framed my face with her hands and pulled me into a kiss. Her lips were soft, and I tried to crouch down to level us, but it felt awkward. Instead, I lifted her by the waist, her legs wrapping around my hips. Y/N’s arms encircled my neck as she deepened the kiss. When her tongue slipped into my mouth, I moaned, pressing her against the doorframe where laughter had just echoed.

My breath came in desperate gasps as I pulled away, kissing along her neck, but the fire ignited within me burned too bright to resist. Her whimpers drove me wild, and there was only so much I could take.

“Next door to the left,” she whispered in my ear.

Holy shit…

I carried her to her bedroom, still wrapped around me. As soon as I opened the door, her scent enveloped me, divine and overwhelming. Trying to stay composed, I ended up slumping onto the bed with her. She squealed and giggled, pulling off my polo shirt. Her hand traced patterns on my chest, making me shudder.

Every cell in my body was on high alert, every touch amplified.

"Y/N…" I groaned when her fingers traced the button-fly of my jeans. "You make me feel like a fucking teenager."

She giggled as my lips found hers. Her hand slipped into my boxers, and when she grasped me, I groaned loudly into her lips. She stroked me tentatively, softly but firmly. After a few strokes, it was too much.

"Y/N, stop… please," I begged, panting into her neck. "I’m going to cum in your hand. I need to slow down."

"Sorry." She released me, sighing. "Too much… too soon?"

"Yes… No… I-I just need a minute." I pressed my forehead into her neck, trying to regain control.

"Okay," she whispered, her hand returning to my hair.

My hands found their way under her shirt, pulling it off. The sight of her, arms stretched above her head, devilish smile on her lips, took my breath away.

"Polkadots?" I teased as her hands flew to my neck, pulling me back into a kiss. Her kisses were eager, biting and pulling at my lip, straining my self-control.

I kissed her neck, my hand slipping under her back. "God, you are so beautiful…" I whispered, unclasping her bra.

Her bra off, I trailed kisses from her neck to her chest, my hands cupping her breasts. Y/N squirmed under me, her moans driving me crazy.

"Can I touch you now?" Her voice was raspy with desire.

"Not yet," I whispered, unbuttoning her jeans.

"Not fair…" she moaned as my fingers dipped into her panties.

My fingers found nothing but wetness, silkiness, and smoothness, a tantalizing blend that drove me wild with anticipation. My dick throbbed painfully as I ground against her leg, barely able to contain myself any longer.

“God, Y/N…” I murmured, my voice a strained whisper.

She whimpered beneath me, her body trembling as my fingers traced circles to pleasure her. I slipped one finger inside, then another, and her scream of my name filled the room, echoing in my ears like a symphony of ecstasy. The sheer joy of her response made me want to cry into her neck.

“Yoongi, please…” she panted, her hands pulling at my hair, desperate. “I want to touch you… please… I need to feel you.”

God…

In one swift move, I had Y/N completely naked beneath me, her chest heaving with gasps. I fumbled for the condom in my wallet, and in mere seconds, I was naked too, hovering over her. Wrapping her wrist in my hand, I guided her to touch me—every inch of me.

Her hand clasped around me, guiding me to her entrance, spreading her wetness. I kept one hand on her breast, the other gripping the blanket next to her face, my control slipping with every passing second. Our eyes locked, the intensity between us palpable.

“Yoongi, what are we doing?” Her hand still gripped me, her voice a mix of wonder and worry.

“God… I don’t know…” I panted, my forehead resting on her neck.

“Is this wrong?”

“Feels right to me.” I groaned into her shoulder as she increased the pressure with her hand.

“I mean… isn’t this against the rules?”

How could she be coherent right now? I was on the brink of losing it, and I wasn’t even inside her yet!

“I-I don’t know, Y/N… Honestly, the rules are very blurry right now.”

“I want you,” she whispered huskily into my ear.

“God, Y/N. I want you too… so fucking much.”

“Would we get in trouble for this?” Her voice held a clear note of worry.

I lifted my head to meet her gaze. “I don’t know… I don’t care… Do you?”

Please, please, please, don’t ask me to stop now. Please…

She shook her head, pulling my face closer to hers in a kiss, positioning herself for me to enter her.

Thank you, God.

Our eyes stayed locked as our bodies connected, the sensation of being surrounded by her utterly mind-blowing. I needed a moment to adjust, Y/N’s moans and the arch of her back driving me insane as I slowly reached the deepest part of her.

I pulled out as slowly as I could manage, then pushed back in. My eyes rolled back, hands gripping her hips, a moan escaping through my clenched jaw. Nothing in my life had ever compared to this, to being with her. No one came even close.

Our bodies moved in sync, and a new terror gripped me: the fear of not lasting long enough to satisfy her. I sought distractions in her breasts, her neck, her lips, but every part of her only turned me on more.

So, I distracted myself mentally, reciting the first thing that came to mind:

There’s antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium… And hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium... And nickel, neodymium, neptunium, germanium… And iron, americium, ruthenium, uranium…

The words spun through my mind, a desperate attempt to hold onto control, as I plunged deeper into the intoxicating feeling of her.

It's Tuesday morning, and the sun hasn't even thought about rising yet. The lab calls out to me with its endless list of tasks, each one promising that today won't be long enough to tackle them all. I feel exhausted, bone-deep weary from days that have been both draining and, honestly, the best of my life.

Y/N and I spent the weekend wrapped up in each other, mostly on her bed or the couch. It’s a novel experience for me—taking a break from work on a weekend—but I still managed to squeeze in some research: exploring every inch of Y/N’s body, learning her curves, her soft spots, and the way she sighs when she’s lost in the moment. I’m hopelessly addicted, and I doubt I’ll ever get enough.

In between those moments of passion, she opened up about her family, her childhood, and the accident that changed everything. I kept my past hidden, deflecting the conversation back to her with more questions. I learned that I influenced her decision to join Jin’s lab; she remembered me from my time as her oblivious T.A. I teased her about being a little stalker, but the truth is, I loved hearing her talk.

Y/N could chatter for hours, and more surprisingly, I found that I could listen willingly and happily. She’s an amazing cook, and with each passing day, she feels more and more like a miracle. I kept adding to my mental list of quirky Y/N facts: her underwear is never a solid color—always striped or patterned, like the bra with little pineapples. She re-watches movies until she knows the dialogue by heart. When she made me watch a film about the Titanic, I laughed when I thought it was a documentary. After that, I decided against any sailing plans.

But Monday brought a harsh return to reality. Seeing her in the lab, just out of reach, was torture—pun intended. She wanted to dive into her experiments, and since I skipped the lab all weekend, I had a mountain of work to tackle. We managed to keep things professional, but the tension in the air was thick. Monday nights were reserved for her family’s Skype calls, leaving me alone, tossing and turning in my bed, missing her like crazy.

As I trudged through the hallways, still groggy, I spotted Y/N sitting by the lab door. With her earphones in, she was bobbing her head, lost in her own world. The moment she saw me, she pulled them out, a broad smile lighting up her face.

I swear I’ll never tire of that smile…

“God, Y/N. What are you doing here so early?” I grumble, struggling to match her morning cheer.

“I couldn’t sleep! I’m dying to see if the experiment worked!” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes.

Of course…

“Mhm” I mumble, fumbling for the keys. 

“It’s nerve-racking! A whole day of work, then waiting sixteen hours—sixteen hours!—to see the results?” 

The key sticks in the lock, and I jiggle it impatiently. 

“C’mon, c’mon…” she chants, practically bouncing.

“Y/N…” I groan, turning to her. “I haven’t had coffee yet. Would you calm down?”

Finally, the door clicks open, and she bolts inside, nearly tripping over me. She rushes straight to the incubator, while I drag myself to my desk, her excited chants of “YES! YES! YES!” echoing behind me.

I can’t help but snort. I guess her experiment worked.

She sets the petri dishes on the bench, and her squeal of delight fills the room. “They worked!” she cries, launching herself at me. I barely catch her as she wraps her legs around my waist.

How does she have this much energy? It’s not even eight yet!

“Jesus Christ, woman! What are you on this morning?” 

Her arms encircle my neck, and she beams at me, making my own lips twitch upward.

“Hi, Grumpy.” She runs a hand through my hair.

“Hi…”

“Good morning.”

“Morning, Y/N.”

Her lips find mine, and I’m a goner. I moan into her mouth as she tugs at my hair, ready to take her right there on the bench, on the floor—anywhere. But we’re in the lab.

“Y/N…” I whisper, kissing her neck.

“Hmmm?”

“Someone might come in.” I nibble her earlobe, making her squirm.

“It’s early,” she whispers, her voice husky as she pulls at my hair. 

God…

I set her down on the bench, clumsily knocking over some plates. “Shit... sorry.” I try to pick them up, but she’s pulling at my jeans, pressing herself against me, and I make a bigger mess.

“Did you touch my samples?” she asks, feigning anger, echoing my words from when I snapped at her earlier.

I smile, but the way she bites her lip and the hooded look in her eyes snaps my resolve. My lips crash into hers, and my hands slide under her shirt as I press her back onto the bench, scattering more plates.

Fuck, I’m going to ruin her experiment.

I lift her, her legs locking around my waist. I mean to move her to the unused bench behind me, but her grinding against me messes with my balance. I knock over a chair, slamming my back against the corner of the bench. Groaning in pain, I secure her in my arms.

“Are you okay?” 

The pain clears my head. Reality rushes back, and I realize what we’re about to do—in the lab, on a Tuesday morning, when anyone could walk in.

Just then, I hear rattling keys from the hallway.

Fuck…

I set Y/N down, and she stumbles. I steady her, stepping back just as Jimin walks in.

Y/N smooths her shirt, picking up plates, her face a vivid crimson. I run a hand through my hair, rubbing my sore back with the other. The pain is nothing compared to the throbbing in my pants, but there’s no fixing that now.

Jimin looks at us, eyebrows raised, then heads to his desk. I let out a sigh, glancing at Y/N—she’s still picking up plates, cheeks burning.

Could we be any more obvious?

Y/N and I were deep in conversation about her results, our voices low enough that Jimin, across the lab, pretended not to be listening. Y/N’s work was nothing short of exceptional, and while pride swelled within me, I needed to keep it grounded in reality. Success like this was rare; she needed to understand its value, to cherish it, but also to brace for the inevitable setbacks.

“Are you familiar with Murphy’s Law?” I asked as she finished jotting down her notes.

“Of course,” she replied, turning to face me, her eyes sparkling. “Did you know his first name was Edward?”

“What? No.” Murphy, as far as I was concerned, was just Murphy.

“Yep. Edward Murphy,” she said, her face serious as she began tidying up her workspace.

“You’re kidding,” I said, moving closer, disbelief evident in my voice.

“Nope.”

“How do you know that?”

“I watch Jeopardy a lot.” A small, embarrassed smile tugged at her lips as our eyes met.

“Why am I not surprised?” I muttered, watching her shrug off her lab coat. Her movements were effortlessly captivating.

“Were you going to say something about Murphy?” she asked, snapping me out of my daze.

“Yeah, right,” I said, shaking off the distraction. “Murphy’s Law applies to the lab too.”

“Oh, I know. ‘Everything that can go wrong will go wrong,’” she recited, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Exactly.” I nodded, impressed.

“But I don’t believe in that,” she said firmly, a spark of defiance lighting her features.

“Of course you don’t.” I had inched closer, almost beside her now.

She gestured toward her successful experiment, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. “Murphy was just a pessimist.”

“And you’re a glass-half-full kind of person?” I probed, towering over her with a teasing grin.

“Technically, the glass is always full. Half with water, half with air.” Her eyes crinkled with mischief.

“Are you trying to be a smart ass?” I leaned my elbow on the bench, bringing us face to face.

“That depends,” she said, her voice dropping, locking her gaze onto mine. 

“On what?”

“Do you like smart asses?” She traced a finger along my forearm, sending an electric jolt through my body.

I staggered back, giving her a warning look. She couldn’t be doing this to me—not now.

“Anyway,” she continued, taking a deep breath, “how many of Murphy’s laws do you know?”

Classic Y/N—always one step ahead. I sighed, admitting, “Just the one.”

“That’s it?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“‘Left to themselves, things tend to go from bad to worse,’” she recited proudly, and I found her knowledge oddly attractive.

A glance at the clock reminded me of the work ahead. How inconvenient.

“That’s a good one. And it’s true,” I said.

“‘Matter will be damaged in direct proportion to its value,’” she continued.

I chuckled. “Also true.”

“Yoongi, you’re one of the grumpiest, most pessimistic people I know, and you don’t know any of these?” She placed her hands on her hips, teasing me with that playful spark in her eyes.

That was it. I straightened from the bench, glaring at her. She was provoking me, and God, did I want her.

“Last one, I promise,” she said with a smile. “’Hot glass looks exactly the same as cold glass.’ Learned that one the hard way.”

Our laughter mingled until Jimin cleared his throat behind us. “Can you keep it down? I’m trying to do science here.”

I rolled my eyes at Jimin, then turned back to Y/N, who was smoothing her ponytail, giggles subsiding. Her happiness was infectious, and I got lost in her eyes.

“Y/N,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even, “we should check on that gel.”

“What gel?” she asked, puzzled.

“The gel, Y/N.” I stared at her, hoping she’d understand.

“Oh… right,” she said, her smile turning knowing.

I followed her to the dark room, anticipation thrumming in my veins. Once inside, I switched off the lights, activating the IN USE signal. Y/N took a sharp breath, her excitement palpable.

“Are you trying to drive me mad?” I whispered, reaching for her face in the darkness.

“Maybe,” she whispered back, her breath warm against my skin.

My hands traveled to her neck, fingers sliding under her ponytail to release her hair. “Y/N… this isn’t smart. We could get caught.” I lifted her onto the counter, the cold bench pressing into my back.

“Not smart,” she agreed, her breath hitching against my neck.

“Do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off you when you provoke me?” My hand slipped under her shirt, cupping her breast. She gasped, and I pressed myself closer, making my point clear.

“Oh, it’s hard all right,” she giggled, wrapping her legs around me.

“You drive me insane, Y/N,” I murmured, biting her lip. She moaned softly, fisting my hair. “Please… can I?”

“Oh God, yes… Yoongi, please.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. I lifted her with one hand, fumbling with the buttons of her jeans with the other. In seconds, I was inside her, stifling my moans into her shoulder.

God bless a dark room.

The weeks drift by in a blur of lab work and secret rendezvous. Y/N is a constant distraction—she teases me, contradicts me, drives me mad, excites me, motivates me, and challenges me all at once. I’ve never felt happier. Having her in my life has transformed my days from monotonous routines into a whirlwind of laughter and unexpected joy. I catch myself cracking jokes that aren’t laced with sarcasm, and I genuinely enjoy explaining new techniques to her, savoring our discussions and her insightful challenges. I never imagined mentoring could be so thrilling—or so fulfilling. Y/N pushes me to be better, to be happier, to have fun.

The lab buzzes with the unspoken tension of our secret. I’m sure everyone suspects something, but we maintain a facade of professionalism. Our attempts to date outside the lab are constantly thwarted by inconvenient encounters with colleagues. It’s frustrating as hell. I don’t care what people think, but the risk of getting into trouble with Jin or Y/N losing her chance to work in the lab keeps us cautious. So, we play the game, keeping up appearances, even though we’ve stolen away to the dark room eight times… not that I’m counting.

As the semester winds down, it becomes harder to heed Yoonji’s advice not to overthink the future. Y/N hopes to land a summer internship in the lab, but I haven’t had the heart to tell her how unlikely that is. Jin has never offered an internship after just one semester. I could vouch for her, but she’s adamant about not wanting special treatment. The thought of her securing an internship elsewhere, leaving for the summer, gnaws at me. The impending separation looms like a dark cloud, promising a long and miserable summer.

Tonight, Jin is hosting the department's end-of-semester party. I sit in my car, ready to drive Y/N there, trying to suppress my annoyance at having to pretend all night. We’re picking up Hoseok and Serena too, a cover to avoid suspicion. Waiting in the car like some kind of creep, I watch the building's entrance.

Then I see her, and all my irritation dissipates. Thank God for May weather—Y/N is wearing a skirt. She smiles at me through the window, and as she gets in, her lips meet mine, her hands finding their way to my neck. I encircle her waist, breathing in deeply, savoring her scent. Even after two months, my need for her is as urgent as ever.

“Hi…” she breathes as she pulls back, her fingers tracing patterns in my hair. I close my eyes, enjoying her touch.

“Hi…” I murmur, resting my forehead against hers. “You’re wearing a skirt.” I groan, my hand sliding down from her waist, over her thigh, and under the soft fabric.

“I am,” she says, her lips brushing my neck. I tease her inner thigh, each stroke inching closer to where I want my fingers to be. “What are you doing?” she whispers in my ear.

“I don’t want to go to this thing.” I nibble her earlobe. “Can we just stay here?” My fingers hover over her panties, but she traps my hand between her thighs.

“No…” she breathes, her voice shaky. “You promised we’d go. Jin invited me personally. Please.”

Her plea makes me relent, and I move back, our foreheads still touching. “But you’re wearing a skirt. You know what that does to me?” I caress her thigh again, unable to resist.

“I have an idea,” she giggles.

“I’m going to be hard and uncomfortable the whole time,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.

“I’ll take care of it afterward,” she promises. I groan again, starting the car.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

As I drive, Y/N fumbles with the radio, displeased with the music.

“Oh, I know!” She reaches for the glove box. “Can we listen to this?” She holds up my mom’s Carpenters CD.

My chest tightens, but I try to smile. I haven’t told her about my parents, and while she knows I moved in with my aunt and uncle as a kid, she hasn’t pried. She’s giving me time, waiting for me to open up.

“Not a chance,” I snap, slipping into our usual banter.

“C’mon, I want to listen to it.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Why have a Carpenters CD if you don’t like them?”

“Y/N…”

I really don’t want to get into it tonight.

“Just one song, please?” Her eager eyes and smile make it impossible to refuse. I nod, focusing on the road. She opens the case and sees my mom’s note, and my chest tightens again.

“Oh…” she says softly. “You didn’t want me to see this.” She closes the case. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. Just put the CD on. It’s fine.”

“No, Yoongi. This obviously has sentimental value. I’m sorry.” Concern etches her features.

“Hey, don’t be upset.” I reach for her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. “Let’s forget it. I’ll tell you about the note another time. Okay?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, eyes locked on mine.

“It’s fine.” I smile, pushing thoughts of my parents away. I grab my iPod, knowing exactly what will cheer her up. When The Police starts playing, her smile returns, and all feels right in the world.

I place my hand over hers on her thigh, the sensation of the skirt fabric under our intertwined fingers reminding me of the night ahead.

Oh God, the skirt, the party… this is going to be hell.

“Hey, Y/N! Ready to mingle with the senior citizens?” Hoseok’s voice cuts through the chatter as he hops into the car and settles behind me.

“So, what’s the plan?” Serena chimes in, sliding into the backseat beside Y/N.

“Can we please keep this low-key? We’re just giving Y/N a ride, nothing more,” I say, trying to keep the irritation from seeping into my tone. Of course, they ignore me.

“Y/N, how about you and I walk in first? The boys can follow behind us,” Serena suggests, leaning forward to prop herself between our seats like a self-appointed traffic cop.

“Or… I could stroll in with Y/N, my arm around her shoulders. You know, start some fun rumors,” Hoseok pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Ow!” He yelps as Serena gives him a swift elbow to the ribs. “Come on, babe! I was just joking!”

“Seriously, Hoseok. That dog act is getting old,” I mutter, catching Serena’s annoyed glare in the rearview mirror.

“How is this not a big deal?” I groan under my breath.

“How about we all walk in holding hands? All four of us!” Y/N suggests, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I turn to scowl at her. “You too?” She flashes me a grin, scrunching her nose playfully.

We finally pull up to Jin's house, and as we pile out of the car, I notice Y/N walking ahead, chatting with Serena. I fall back next to Hoseok, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. 

Inside, Y/N glances back at me, then disappears into the crowd. I greet Jin and grab a drink, then find a spot by the back wall. Familiar faces from the lab are scattered around, some with their families. I find myself chatting with a few of them, even playing with a little kid in a sweater that says “Future Scientist.” I snort at the irony—here's hoping he grows up to be an engineer instead.

To my surprise, I’m not hating this night. I lean against the wall, stealing glances at Y/N as she lights up while talking to Prof. Tanner, one of the few female professors in our department. I’ve heard she can be a total nightmare, but she’s all smiles for Y/N. What gives? 

As Y/N mingles, I can’t help but wonder if there’s anyone who wouldn’t be drawn to her charm. Just then, Jungkook appears out of nowhere, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. My heart races, and I shoot up from my chair.

“She’s got it under control,” Serena whispers, her grip firm on my elbow as we watch Y/N step away from Jungkook, saying something before he wanders off. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, sinking back down in my seat. Y/N glances my way, her eyes briefly meeting mine before she moves on.

“Yoongi, you need to get it together. You’re staring at her like some creepy stalker,” Serena says, finally releasing my elbow.

I sigh, knowing she’s right. We bicker a lot, but beneath her icy exterior, she really does look out for me.

Hoseok appears, holding another round of drinks, and I begin to feel a little lighter. But when I find Y/N again, she’s deep in conversation with Jin. I can see the passion in her gestures, the way she lights up as she talks about her project. It fills me with pride to see how far she’s come this semester, how confident she is now.

Jin glances at me a couple of times during their conversation. I try to focus on my drink, but the curiosity gnaws at me. Is he proud of her? Does he see what I see?

“Dude, Jimin is giving you a death stare,” Hoseok whispers, snapping me out of my thoughts. I follow his gaze and meet Jimin’s dark brown eyes. He quickly looks away, a slight frown on his face.

I shrug, trying to shake off the feeling of unease. “He has a weird stare. You think he suspects something?”

“Probably,” Hoseok says. “I don’t know how much longer you can keep this charade up. It’s torture.” I rub my chest, where a tightness has been growing since Y/N walked away.

“Jeon can’t take a hint, huh?” Hoseok mutters, and I see Y/N accepting a drink from Jungkook.

Are you kidding me?

My hand tightens into a fist on my thigh as I down the rest of my drink, a wave of frustration crashing over me. Y/N smiles at Jungkook, and while I’m somewhat relieved to see it doesn’t reach her eyes like when she smiles at me, it still makes my blood boil. I want her by my side, to claim her as mine. I want Jungkook to back off.

“Dude, calm down,” Hoseok says, placing a hand on my shoulder. I turn to him, exhaling sharply through my nose.

My night is crumbling, and I feel on the verge of snapping.

“I can’t, okay? I’m going to take a breather.” I stand abruptly, forcing myself not to look for Y/N again. I know if I see her with him, I might lose it and drag her away like some caveman.

“Want me to come with you?” Hoseok asks, his concern evident.

“No, I’m fine,” I reply, but my tone lacks conviction.

I storm into Jin’s sprawling backyard, seeking solace in the shadows. I need to figure out what’s happening inside my head. Why does this pressure in my chest hurt so much? It’s ridiculous—I shouldn’t be feeling like this over someone. I should be rational. 

Sinking onto a bench, I rest my head in my hands. 

God, I’m losing my mind. Or maybe I’m turning into a hypochondriac… or both.

I just want Y/N. I need her. I miss her. I love her.

My head falls back against the bench. 

Is this what love feels like? 

Suddenly, I hear a soft voice. “Hey… what’s wrong?” 

I didn’t even notice Y/N coming outside. I lift my head and lean back, letting out a deep sigh.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I say, but the anger slips through despite my best efforts.

“Yoongi…” She sits beside me and takes my hand in hers.

“This party sucks!” I snap, but she doesn’t flinch. She never does. Y/N knows me too well, understands my rough edges. I never want to take my frustration out on her.

“What sucks?” Her voice is steady, soothing. How does she do it?

“This stupid party…” I trail off, staring at our hands.

She laughs lightly. “Are you drunk?”

“No! I’m not!” Realizing I raised my voice again, I groan and try to regain my composure. “I want you beside me. I want to tell Jungkook to back off because you’re mine. I want to hold your hand, put my arm around you, keep you warm. I don’t want to hide this anymore.”

“I know…” Y/N reaches for my face, her fingers brushing my hair behind my ear. I lean into her touch, closing my eyes as her words unravel me. “I want to be beside you too,” she whispers, and it feels like the world has shifted. “But right now, it’s not smart for us. The semester is almost over. I’ll find an internship in a different lab, and then we won’t have to hide anymore.”

So I’m screwed either way. If she finds a different lab, we won’t have to keep this secret, but I won’t get to see her every day. And if she stays, we’ll be stuck in this limbo.

“Can we go soon?” I plead, my frustration boiling over. I want to escape this place, take Y/N somewhere safe where I can finally let myself be with her.

“We just got here,” she giggles, trying to lighten the mood. “Stop being so grumpy and let’s get back inside.” She rises, but I grip her hand tightly.

“You know I hate when you call me grumpy.”

“No, you don’t. You love it,” she counters with a bright smile.

I do love it. And I love you.

The words sit heavy on my tongue, burning to be spoken, but I hold them back.

I pulled her gently between my legs, my hand finding its way to her cheek as I brought our lips together. She kissed me back, soft and tentative, but then, with a push against my chest, she pulled away.

I groaned, rising from the bench. “I’ll go in first. You follow in a few minutes, okay?” I needed a moment to gather my thoughts, and the warmth of her fingers lingering on my chest felt like a whisper of reassurance.

“Yeah…” I breathed out, almost a whine.

“And try to have some fun.” She shot me a playful smile that sent a flutter through my chest.

“Yeeees…” I groaned again, turning to walk away.

“You’re being a big baby, you know that, right?” Her teasing tone made me roll my eyes.

“Y/N, don’t provoke me,” I sighed, tugging at the hair on the back of my neck.

“Okay, okay.” She giggled, her laughter lightening the air between us. “I promise to sit by you for a bit.” With that, she let me head inside alone.

I lingered outside for a few more moments, trying to cool off and collect my thoughts before re-entering the fray.

Just as I was about to step back in, Jimin stumbled outside, looking a bit worse for wear. “Yoongi! There you are,” he said, plopping down on the bench next to me.

“Jimin,” I greeted, not really in the mood for small talk.

“So… are you like social now?” he asked, his words slurred from the alcohol he’d consumed.

“What do you mean?” I feigned interest, though I really didn’t care.

“You never used to come to these things,” he pointed out, sounding suspicious, as if I’d committed some sort of crime.

I shrugged and stood up, feeling the urge to escape. “Are you sleeping with your undergrad?” he blurted, trying to whisper but failing miserably.

A glare shot across my face as I realized he suspected something. Jimin was definitely too drunk for this conversation. “Jimin, I think you should stop drinking,” I advised, and when he just stared blankly, I added, “I better get back inside before Hoseok thinks I left without him.” I didn’t wait for his reply as I headed back in.

Y/N was sitting with Hoseok and Serena when I walked over, and the moment she smiled at me, my chest tightened with a mix of longing and pride. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her hand or leg, but I managed to sit back, trying to play it cool. 

I was surprisingly glad I’d come. I’d anticipated a dull evening, but it turned out to be quite enjoyable. Watching Y/N all dolled up, chatting with everyone, filled me with a sense of pride. 

Then, as Jin started playing Nelly, the atmosphere shifted. Seeing Dr. Amun-Kebi, bow tie and all, dancing to “Hot in Here” was an image that would be burned in my memory forever.

Later, Y/N paced nervously through my room in her underwear, her damp hair leaving a faint mist in the air. I watched her, my heart pounding at the sight of her anxious movements as she rummaged through her bag. The tension felt heavy, almost suffocating.

“Y/N, you’re going to do great,” I said, my voice still laced with sleep as I tried to offer her some comfort.

“You don’t know that,” she replied tightly, finally finding what she was looking for. 

“You know this stuff better than anyone else in that room,” I said, propping myself up on my elbows to catch her gaze.

“That’s not true. You’ll be there too.” She faced me, comb in hand, her worry evident as she began to untangle her wet hair.

“Exactly! So, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” I flashed her a reassuring smile, but it felt weak against her rising anxiety.

“I stutter when I’m nervous,” she admitted, her voice wavering as she pulled out her clothes and bent over, her vulnerability stark against the backdrop of my cluttered room.

“Then try to relax,” I said, taking a deep breath. “You’ve put in so much work, and you know your project inside and out. You’ll do amazing, Y/N.”

“What if Jin asks me something I don’t know?” Panic danced in her eyes as she placed her hands on her hips.

“You don’t have to know everything. I’ll be there too—this is my project too. Remember, it’s not a test. The point is to discuss the results together, nothing more.”

Slowly, her frown faded, replaced by a tentative grin. She climbed back onto the bed, straddling me, her wet hair dripping onto my shoulder. The scent of her filled the air, intoxicating, as she leaned in to kiss me softly.

I lay back, tracing the strap of her bra with my finger. “I know how to get you to relax,” I teased.

“Not a chance, Grumpy. We’d be late,” she shot back, rubbing against me just enough to send a bolt of desire through my body.

“Y/N, you’re such a tease,” I groaned, dropping my head back in exasperation.

“And you have a foul mouth, Min,” she replied, disappearing into the bathroom, her voice echoing playfully.

“Which, coincidentally, you love,” I called after her.

She poked her head out, toothbrush in her mouth. “That… I do.”

With a lazy stretch, I got up from the bed, dragging my feet toward the bathroom. She stood by the sink, brushing her teeth in her adorable smiley-face underwear, making me ache with need. “You’re going to pay for my blue balls tonight,” I murmured into her neck, eliciting a giggle as my stubble brushed against her soft skin. 

She bent over to rinse her mouth, pressing her behind into the growing bulge in my boxers, causing a deep groan to escape my lips. I playfully smacked her ass as she squealed, darting out of the bathroom.

“Don’t take forever, Grumpy. I want to be early to set things up!”

Y/N and I stood in the seminar room, preparing everything for the presentation. The space was cozy, just big enough for the nine of us in our group, including Jin. After confirming that all the slides displayed correctly, I shot Y/N an encouraging smile and took a seat toward the back, keeping a close eye on her.

I could see the nerves bubbling beneath her composed exterior. We had gone over every detail last night, and I knew she was ready for this moment.

Jin kicked things off with some lab business, and then it was Y/N’s turn to shine. As she started her talk, she stumbled over her words just once at the beginning, but quickly found her rhythm, her confidence blossoming with every passing second. My heart swelled with pride as I watched her speak; she was absolutely incredible.

Jin seemed impressed too, prompting her to elaborate on a few points, which she handled flawlessly. But then Jimin jumped in with questions that felt a bit off-base, probing into unrelated techniques and approaches. Y/N stumbled over a couple of his inquiries, but she made educated guesses, maintaining her poise. Still, I could feel my irritation rising. What the hell was Jimin’s problem?

“That was all nice… uh… Y/N?” Jimin hesitated, clearly relishing the moment as he mispronounced her name. My blood boiled at his deliberate slight. 

“I just don’t see the point.”

“The p-point?” Y/N stuttered again, and it took everything in me to keep my temper in check. I wanted to tear Jimin apart for being such a jerk.

“Yeah, I mean… so you found two new toxin genes. How is that going to help anything?” Jimin shrugged dismissively, and I could feel my frustration reaching a boiling point.

Before Y/N could respond, I jumped in, my voice sharper than I intended. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jimin. Are you questioning the impact of my research?”

Jimin turned to face me, a smug expression creeping across his face.

“Yoongi…” Jin’s warning gaze made it clear I needed to rein it in.

“No, seriously. Please, tell me if you are,” I shot back, my eyes locking onto Jimin's, daring him to continue.

“Actually,” Y/N interjected softly from the front of the room, pulling our attention back to her. “I think I might be able to answer that question.” She glanced at me for permission, and I nodded, stepping back to let her take the spotlight.

“Please, go ahead,” Jin encouraged her, his tone supportive.

“Well… if these two toxins are, as we’ve shown, involved in the cancerous growth of stomach epithelium cells, then studying their protein structure and interaction will provide insight into the anomalous stomach pathology caused by H. pylori… and its possible cure.”

I couldn’t have put it better myself. My heart swelled with pride and something deeper. Marry me?

“Marvelous!” Jin exclaimed, while Jimin huffed, sinking into his chair in defeat. My annoyance at Jimin evaporated, replaced by overwhelming joy. I couldn’t take my eyes off Y/N as she smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears. I wanted to run to her, scoop her up in my arms, and kiss her senseless, but I managed to stay seated, a wide grin plastered on my face.

As the room emptied, I lingered behind with Y/N, pretending to help pack up the projector and laptop. It was just an excuse to stay close to her, to contain the waves of emotions crashing inside me. Jin congratulated her one last time before leaving, and I counted his steps, waiting until he was far enough away. My heart raced, and when I could wait no longer, I dropped everything and rushed to Y/N, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her desperately.

“You did amazing!” I said, my voice breathless with excitement.

“I was so nervous!” she admitted, her eyes wide.

“I know, but you nailed it!” I kissed her again, unable to get enough of her.

Still holding her face, I searched her eyes. “Geez, Y/N… you’re incredible. I—” I leaned closer, resting my hands on the table behind her, my lips trying to convey everything words couldn’t. It was more than just her success or my pride as a scientist; it was so much deeper than that.

“I want to cook you dinner tonight,” I said, pulling her into a tight embrace.

She smiled up at me. “You do?”

“Yes. We’re having a celebration date at my place.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” I kissed the top of her head, reluctantly letting her go as we gathered our things to head back to the lab. My heart was full, my mind racing with excitement and a twinge of fear. I’d never been happier in my life.

Now the only question was: what on earth was I going to cook for Y/N?

We returned to the lab, the earlier tension between Y/N and me fading as we wrapped up our tasks. Her eyes sparkled with determination as she headed off for her final exam, and we agreed to meet at my apartment for dinner later. Just as I was about to slip out early to prepare, an email notification pinged in my inbox.

From: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org   Sent: Friday, May 13, 2024, 4:27 PM   To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu  

Yoongi,

We need to talk about your undergrad. Please stop by my office.

Jin

-

Dr. Seokjin Kim   Member, Division of Basic Sciences   Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center   1100 Fairview Avenue North   Seattle, WA 98109-1024  

Shit. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Jin had never summoned me to his office like this before. He usually came down to the lab if he wanted to talk. The email's terse tone sent a chill racing down my spine. There was only one reason he’d call me in like this—he knew about Y/N and me. 

That jerk, Jimin, must have said something. 

No point speculating now; I had to face Jin. My heart raced as I imagined the worst. He’d tell me Y/N and I couldn’t be together, that she wouldn’t be able to work in the lab anymore. The thought twisted my gut with regret. I should have been more careful, kept my feelings in check.

Shit.

I knocked on Jin’s door and stepped inside. He was facing his computer, barely glancing at me as I sank into the chair across from him. 

“Hello, Yoongi. Take a seat,” he said, his voice calm but layered with an undercurrent I couldn’t quite place. “Let me just finish this email.”

I watched him type, the sound of the keys echoing like a death knell. Finally, he turned, a smile dancing on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. I nodded, trying to mask my nerves, my hands gripping the chair arms.

“I have to say, I was very impressed with Y/N’s seminar. She showed a broad knowledge of the project, answered questions confidently, and gathered an impressive amount of data for just one semester.”

“She is incredible,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Nice, Yoongi. Way to keep it cool.

Jin raised an eyebrow, nodding. “She does seem very mature, dedicated, and hardworking.”

“She is.” I couldn’t help but think of all the moments we’d shared, both in the lab and out.

“So, I called you in here for two things. First, I want to offer Y/N a position as a summer intern. What do you think?” 

My heart leaped. Jin had never offered an undergrad a position after just one semester. This was amazing! Y/N was going to be thrilled. 

“That’s… um… that’s great! She completely deserves it, and it would be an incredible opportunity for her. She wants to apply to grad school next fall, so summer research would be really beneficial.”

“I see… so you approve?” Jin asked, tilting his head.

The way he looked at me made my blood run cold. He didn’t need my approval. Something was off.

“O-of course,” I stammered, my instincts telling me there was more to this conversation.

“Well, that leads to the second thing I wanted to discuss.” He shifted in his chair, crossing his legs as if he were settling in for a serious talk. 

Here we go…

“It seems you have a very close relationship with Y/N. You seem very… protective of her.”

I knew it! Jimin must have spilled the beans. My fists clenched at the thought.

“Now, I understand it’s in your nature—her being under your care and all—to be protective. But there’s something else,” Jin continued, tapping his finger against his lips thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed the change she’s brought about in you. It’s fascinating.”

Geez… Jin and his fascination.

Before I could respond, he went on. “Of course, I would never ask if there’s something unprofessional going on because that would be tactless. However, you should know that involving yourself in a romantic relationship with an undergrad—especially if she’ll be getting paid for the summer—is completely unacceptable.”

Fucking shit.

My hands gripped the chair so tightly that my knuckles turned white. I couldn’t do this. Hiding my feelings for Y/N felt impossible, but I’d have to—for her sake. This was an incredible opportunity. We’d have to keep it up until she graduated. Damn, that was a whole year! Maybe I could graduate sooner, find a job in another lab…

Jin was staring at me, eyebrows raised, when suddenly he burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the small office.

“I’m just messing with you, kid.” He slapped his thighs as his laughter subsided. “Your personal life outside this lab is none of my business. As long as it doesn’t affect your work or hers, I have no problem with it.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Did he just say what I thought he said?

“You know, when I met Mrs. Kim, she was a post-doc in this lab.”

“I didn’t know that…” I exhaled, the tension draining from my body.

“Well, now that this is settled, I’ll offer Y/N the position.”

“O-okay.”

Still in shock, I left Jin’s office. Before I even reached the lab, my phone rang—Y/N, squealing about Jin’s offer. I didn’t mention my conversation with him; I’d save that for tonight during our celebration dinner.

Our celebration dinner… Oh God. What was I thinking? I couldn’t cook!

I definitely needed to stop at the grocery store unless I wanted to serve Y/N mac and cheese for dinner. Sighing, I realized I had no idea what to prepare. Time to turn to my all-knowing best friend: Google.

Search: What to cook for your girlfriend? Search Results: 5 Easy Meals To Cook For Her – AskMen.com

AskMen.com? Seriously? 

Chipotle Shrimp Kabobs…

What the actual fuck?

Sautéed Lemon Garlic Chicken…

Really, AskMen? Really? 

I groaned, frustration bubbling up. This was not going well. Maybe I should try again.

Search: Easy dinner for two Search Results: Cooking for Two Recipes – Allrecipes.com

Allrecipes.com? I think I’ve heard Yoonji mention this site before. 

Salmon with Raspberry Ginger Glaze…

Holy shit! And these are the easy ones?

I slammed my forehead against the desk repeatedly. Okay, maybe I should stick to something I already knew how to make… like grilled cheese. Or pasta! I could whip up some pasta sauce.

Search: Easy Pasta Sauce Search Results: Easy Vodka Sauce – Allrecipes.com

Now we’re talking. 

I jotted down all the ingredients and headed to the store, feeling a flicker of hope.

I was chopping onions into tiny squares when my phone buzzed with a text from Y/N.

Undergrad: I’m done with the semester! Woot! Woot! Do you want me to come early to help with dinner?

Yes… please… no!

C’mon, I can handle this. How hard could it be? Just follow the protocol, Min.

Me: What? No faith in me, Y/L/N?

I typed quickly, trying not to let the onion juice splatter all over my cell. 

Shit…

Undergrad: I would prefer not to get food poisoning. I have an internship this summer! :)”

I couldn’t help but smile at the screen.

Me: You’re distracting me. See you here at 7. P.S. Smiley faces are lame.”

Undergrad: And you, my Grumpy, are adorable!

I chuckled, my heart racing with excitement. Maybe I could do this after all. Just as long as I didn’t burn the kitchen down.

When Y/N knocked at the door, it was only a quarter to seven. I had the garlic bread in the oven, and the sauce still needed another thirty minutes to simmer. I’d hoped to squeeze in a quick shower before she arrived, but clearly, that plan was a bust.

I opened the door to find Y/N standing there, a bright smile lighting up her face. “Did you wrestle the tomatoes?” she giggled, tiptoeing in for a quick kiss. “Hi…”

I wanted nothing more than to pull her close, but I was covered in tomato juice and splatters from head to toe. “Give me a sec,” I said, retreating to my bedroom to change.

When I returned, she was by the sink, eyes wide as she surveyed the chaos I’d created. “Geez, Yoongi. How many things are you making?” She gestured dramatically to the pile of pots and utensils stacked high.

“Just the one dish, Y/N,” I replied, trying to sound casual while stirring the bubbling sauce.

“Did you feel the need to use every pot in the kitchen? Were you trying them all out?” She raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her lips.

“Okay, Y/L/N. You’re getting on my nerves. I’m trying to cook here.” I continued mixing, trying to ignore her playful jabs.

“You should use a wooden spoon,” she advised, inching closer with a wooden spoon in hand. “The metal one makes the sauce acidic. The metal reacts with the pH of the tomatoes—”

I shot her a glare. “I didn’t even know I owned a wooden spoon,” I grumbled, taking it from her. “I almost have a PhD, you know.”

“Okay… okay… Mr. PhD.” She waved her hands in mock surrender. “Can I play some music?” She reached for my laptop on the counter and gasped, laughter bubbling out. “Oh my gosh… you googled the meaning of sautéed?”

“Okay, that’s it, Y/L/N.” I pretended to drop the wooden spoon over the counter dramatically. “No dinner for you.” I pointed a finger at her, struggling to keep a straight face.

“I’m sorry!” she laughed, and I stepped closer, cornering her against the counter. “It does smell delicious,” she whispered, running a finger down my chest.

“And I haven’t even showered yet.” I dropped kisses along her neck, my hand sliding beneath the hem of her shirt.

“You do smell delicious too,” she said in a husky whisper.

“Liar. I stink of onions.”

“Only a little bit.” She giggled into my neck as I lifted her up onto the counter. “Thanks for making me dinner.”

“My pleasure,” I murmured, nuzzling her neck. She smelled amazing—like warmth and sunshine. I pulled back to look into her eyes. “Congratulations on your internship, Y/N. You absolutely earned it.”

“Yeah… about that,” she said, a nervous giggle escaping her lips. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

“Why not?” I asked, confusion painting my features.

“Well, I have to think about it.”

“Y/N, it’s an incredible opportunity. Jin has never offered an internship to a student after only one semester of work.”

“I know… but…” She bit her lip, trailing off.

“What is it?” I cupped her cheek with my hand, rubbing my thumb along her skin.

“Well… are we going to be okay if I join the lab for the summer? We’ll have to keep hiding this, and I know it’s been getting… um… difficult… for both of us.”

I sighed in relief, a smile creeping onto my face. It was sweet of her to include herself, especially when I’d been the one making everything complicated. The thought of her giving up this chance for us made my heart swell. “Yeah… about that…” I echoed her earlier words. She looked at me expectantly. “I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult about the whole thing… but it turns out, we don’t need to hide anymore. I mean, we should still keep things professional in the lab and all, but… Jin sort of knows.”

“WHAT?” She pushed me back with a hand on my chest, her eyes wide.

“I think it was becoming obvious, Y/N. He didn’t ask me directly, but he said our personal life had nothing to do with our work. As long as it didn’t affect our performance, he didn’t care.”

“He doesn’t care?” Her voice was still high-pitched with surprise.

“Apparently, his wife worked for him once too…” I shrugged, returning my attention to dinner. I stirred the sauce and tossed a pinch of salt into the boiling water before adding the spaghetti.

“That… that changes things,” she said slowly, her brow furrowed.

I stepped back between her legs, looking into her eyes. “What is it?”

“So, um… do you want me to take the internship? You won’t get tired of me?”

“What kind of question is that, Y/N?” I shook my head, feeling a pang in my chest. “I’ve been aching, physically hurting, thinking about you taking an internship somewhere else and leaving me for the whole summer.”

Her smile was radiant, brightening the dim kitchen. “You have?”

“Yes…”

“Well, it looks like I won’t be going anywhere,” she declared.

“Good. Because I have a lot of work to do, and I could really use an overachieving undergrad with some pretty amazing skills at the bench.”

“I’d say my skills go beyond the bench. Wouldn’t you agree?” she asked, a teasing smirk playing on her lips.

“I would…” I pointed the wooden spoon at her playfully. “But don’t distract me now, or I’ll burn your dinner.”

Dinner turned out surprisingly well. We ate as she excitedly recounted her classes, finals, classmates, and professors. I sat back, just soaking in the sight of her—how her eyes lit up when she spoke, how her mouth curved into a smile, the way her eyebrows danced with every emotion. Watching her enjoy life, so passionate and full of energy, felt like a precious gift I never wanted to take for granted.

Y/N was drying the last few dishes, the rhythmic swish of the towel against porcelain filling the quiet kitchen with a comforting cadence. I approached her from behind, the warmth of her body radiating toward me as I leaned in to kiss her neck. The familiar flutter of anticipation twisted in my stomach. “You want to show off some of those non-bench skills of yours?”

She turned to me, a playful smile on her lips. As I leaned on the counter, I caught a whiff of my own odor wafting up. “God, I stink…”

Her laughter bubbled up, light and teasing. “It’s fine.”

“Do you mind if I take a quick shower?” I asked, a hopeful lilt creeping into my voice.

“Can I join you?” 

A grin broke across my face, and I took her hand, leading us toward the bathroom. The air between us crackled with a tension that felt electric, urging me to shed my shirt and pants before we even reached the shower.

She kicked off her shoes, her fingers deftly unbuttoning her jeans while I turned the water on, steam swirling like ethereal ghosts in the dim light. “May I?” I asked, wrapping my fingers around her wrist. She nodded, her eyes shimmering with mischief.

With practiced ease, I unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them down to her ankles. As I knelt to kiss her calves, then her knees, and finally her thighs, her giggles rang out like music, lifting the weight of the world off my shoulders. “Your scruff tickles,” she said, her voice bright and breathy.

I lifted her shirt over her head, tracing my fingers along the delicate straps of her bra. Once our underwear was discarded like forgotten memories, I pulled her close, feeling her warmth envelop me as her legs wrapped around my waist. Our differing heights made this an all-too-familiar arrangement, a perfect fit for everything we were about to share.

She squealed as I jumped into the shower, icy water hitting us both and sending shockwaves of heat through my body. Her lips found mine, soft and insistent, and I pressed her back against the cool tiles, the world outside fading away.

“Put me down,” she murmured hoarsely into my ear.

I obliged, feeling the rush of her kisses trailing down my chest as she sank to her knees, a wicked smile playing on her lips. 

“Y/N…” I breathed, leaning against the slick wall for support, knowing what was coming. This was one of her non-bench skills—a skill I’d come to appreciate in ways I couldn’t quite articulate. The water cascaded over us, hot and cold, our bodies entwined in a dance as old as time.

She began slowly, teasing, her hands wrapping around me, her tongue swirling around my tip, and I groaned, the sound swallowed by the rushing water. My instincts told me to hold back, but the pleasure was too sweet, too intoxicating. 

“Y/N…” I rasped, the words spilling out like a confession, “I’m… shit…”

But she didn’t relent. No, she tightened her grip and quickened her pace, and as my knees weakened beneath me, I surrendered to the waves of ecstasy crashing over me. I grabbed at the shower curtain rod, but it shook under my weight. I couldn’t hold on anymore.

With a final, desperate groan, I let go, surrendering to the moment, the pleasure consuming me entirely. She rose from her knees, licking her lips, that look in her eyes making my heart race. “You are one talented woman,” I murmured against her neck, panting.

Still wrapped around me, I stumbled into the bedroom, a tangle of limbs and laughter. I collapsed onto the bed, her body beneath me, and kissed her everywhere, exploring the soft curves that felt like home.

I knelt beside the bed, pulling her legs over my shoulders, my hands wandering over her hips as I feasted on the sweetness before me. The taste of her was electric, sending jolts of desire straight to my core. 

“God, Y/N, you taste even better than you smell,” I groaned, losing myself in her as she writhed beneath my touch, her moans filling the air like a siren’s song. 

It was then that I realized bringing her pleasure was no longer just a thrill; it was my favorite pastime, a dance of intimacy that bound us closer than any words could express. I placed soft kisses along her body, the world outside fading into obscurity, leaving only us—lost in our own private paradise. 

“Mmmmmm… Yoongi…” she sighed, fingers tangling in my hair. “Very… talented… yourself.”

I chuckled, planting another kiss on her lips, affection bubbling up like a tide. I love you, I love you, I love you…

“Inside… now,” she commanded, breathless and eager.

“Yes, ma’am,” I grinned, knowing this night would linger in our memories long after the water had dried.

“Y/N?” I gently comb my fingers through her damp hair, the strands clinging to my chest like the remnants of a storm.

“Hmm?” Her voice is soft, almost dreamy, as if she’s still wrapped up in the warmth of the moment.

“I… I want to tell you about my parents.” As I speak, she lifts her head, folding her arms over my chest, resting her chin there like it’s a pillow—a sanctuary amid the chaos of my memories.

A tiny grin dances on her lips, and she nods, encouraging me to continue.

“You probably guessed that they’re dead, right?”

She nods again, her gaze steady. “I know they’re not part of your life now… I figured something must have happened.”

“My dad died when I was four,” I say, the words tumbling out bluntly, like the beginning of a ghost story. 

“I’m sorry…” Her voice is small, fragile.

“I don’t remember him, except for pictures.” I shrug, trying to shake off the weight of the past. “He had pretty aggressive colon cancer—killed him in two months.”

“Oh my God, Yoongi… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I attempt a smile, but it probably comes out crooked and imperfect, like an old photograph faded by time. “So it was just my mom and me for a while… but when I was eleven, she was diagnosed with breast cancer.”

Her eyes widen, a shadow of understanding crossing her face as she starts rubbing gentle circles on my chest with her fingers, an attempt to soothe the pain I’m dredging up.

“She was so strong, though. She fought it for almost two years, with the most eager and positive attitude you can imagine. Kind of like you, in a way.” I flash her another smile, hoping to lighten the moment, but Y/N’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and she remains silent, letting me spill my heart.

“When she started getting worse, we moved in with my aunt, uncle, and Yoonji. My dad’s brother, Namjoon, is one of the best oncologists on the West Coast. But after metastasis, there was pretty much nothing else he could do.” 

“And that’s why you do cancer research,” she says, piecing it all together.

“It was Namjoon’s idea, really. He talked about how frustrating it was, being an oncologist, waiting for new therapies, new drugs, and discoveries. I figured it made sense to devote my life to that.”

“It does…” she replies, her tone soft but firm, a steady anchor in my turbulent sea of memories.

“I know it’s not a very profitable career…” I pause, the weight of Estelle’s words echoing in my mind, the sting of her judgment lingering like a bad dream—wasting my time.

“Profitable?” Her disbelief catches me off guard, pulling me from my thoughts. “What do you need so much money for anyway? You’re doing something you love. Something meaningful. That’s so much more important.”

Y/N renders me speechless with her insight, her understanding washing over me like a wave, leaving me breathless. I kiss the top of her head, the moment stretching between us until I decide to share the last piece of my story, the promise I made her before.

“My mom… um… she loved The Carpenters. She would make me sing their songs to her all the time. At the end—when she was breathing through a tube and couldn’t speak anymore—she wrote that note you saw on the CD.”

“‘I’ll be with Daddy soon’?” Y/N remembers, her voice barely a whisper, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“Yes…” I run a hand through my hair, staring at the ceiling as if the white paint might offer me some solace. I try to breathe through the lump in my throat. “I still miss her… so much.” I keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling, willing them not to fill with tears, blaming the onions and their cruel sulfenic acids when they finally betray me.

After a few deep breaths, I turn to face Y/N, who is sniffling, her hands trembling slightly.

“Y/N, don’t cry. Please.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just so sad. I’m so sorry.” She cries over my chest, and I run my hand over her hair, creating a soothing rhythm in the storm of emotions.

“I know. But I’m okay. I’m happy now.”

“You are?”

“Yes, because of you.”

Her sniffles dissolve into giggles, a beautiful mix of laughter and tears, and she never ceases to amaze me with her resilience.

“I love you, Y/N.” The words burn in my throat, raw and true, echoing in the empty spaces of my heart.

She lifts her head, staring at me through her wet eyelashes, and I know she can feel how my heart pounds beneath her. I’m overwhelmed by emotions, but I’ve never spoken truer words. After a moment, Y/N’s hand reaches behind my neck, and her lips collide with mine in a passionate kiss, her tears mingling with mine.

“And I love you…” she breathes in between kisses, her voice trembling with sincerity. “So… so… so much.”

We fall asleep like that, her warm body over my chest, the world fading away. I feel a profound relief, a weight lifting as she gets to know me in ways no one ever has. And even though shadows of uncertainty linger about our future, I realize I don’t have to solve everything right now. Like Y/N said, I would savor my time—my time with her, my time in school. As long as she was by my side, nothing else mattered. I was doing what I loved, and the person I loved was right there with me. It couldn’t possibly get any better than this.

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[phoenixyfriend]

I had a very long Star Wars dream last night. Baffling level of narrative coherency for a dream.

Started out with Obi-Wan Kenobi, our bespectacled thirty-something, going to a university for a Grad Student thing. He's been working for nonprofits for some time, and wants to get a degree to further his work.

He gets to an advisor's office, (which is a Generic Salt-And-Pepper White Man buuuuuut we could probably swap out for an actual AU, maybe make it Mace?) who walks him through the courses and prereqs and so on. Great. All going good. He goes out to some kind of program meeting with his fellow grad students (some straight out of undergrad, some his age) and a sort of team lead person who is… Anakin Skywalker.

And it is. Tense. Like 'everyone can feel it' tense. Anakin's doing something Doctoral, whatever, and his purpose right now is to Program Manage these grad students in another department (Anakin does some analytics and database stuff for the department), and one of those students is Obi-Wan Kenobi and nobody can figure out what the damage is.

They attempt professionalism. They are… cordial. They avoid each other otherwise.

Several weeks in, there's a "we should talk confrontation" and Anakin blows up because the time to talk was years ago, Obi-Wan! Like five to ten years ago! When shit went down!

FLASHBACK TIME: These two were doing crime. It was a team of seven. I don't remember all of whom were involved but it was definitely them two, Rex and Cody, maybe Quinlan? and a few other people. (Not Ahsoka, she was excluded for safety because teenager).

They were probably doing some kind of Leverage stuff but also possibly some domestic terrorism. A job went bad, Cody died, and they all kinda split to do their own things. Partly this was to dodge law enforcement, but partly it was because they were all fucked up and grieving.

Obi-Wan wanted to take some time to himself to grieve, which Anakin was upset about because they're not just brothers in arms, they're basically brothers, at least in Anakin's eyes, and they had a huge blow-up fight about it. They haven't spoken since.

(Rex is in Anakin's life again. He acts as an Uncle figure to the twins. He is also… not in the best mental space, considering his own dead brother.)

Obi-Wan ends up getting pulled aside to talk to someone, probably Mace or Yoda, and a no-criminal-activity version of the story spills out. And it's very 'well what the fuck am I supposed to do with that' because the person pulling him aside was thinking it was like… they had a one-night stand before the program started and now they don't know how to navigate the power dynamic, not grief and distance and family bullshit.

IDK where it was gonna go from there, I think they were still circling each other like feral cats trying to decide what to do when I woke up.

(There was a sideplot about Padme and the twins doing fun things in the basement, but the fun things included a well that they'd use to act out Alice in Wonderland and other insane stuff. Which they loved but was weird. Why do you have a well that's at least ten feet deep in your basement, Padme. Why are you putting your kids in there. Also I had to run away from a bunch of wasps into a pool.)

Rex and Cody! Are just! Background Grief Bullshit! But it hovers over the entire fic.

I think Quinlan should bully his way back into Obi-Wan's life before the plot starts.

And he's the one that angles Obi-Wan into going to This Specific University. That Anakin's at.

He didn't expect them to be that close contact, just wanted them to run into each other in the hall and make amends. In my mind, the timeline is that the crime group broke up for opsec, then a year or two later Quinlan shows up on Obi-Wan's doorstep with intent to Friendship.

Obi-Wan would have done the same with Anakin but their fight was so big and horrible that he doesn't think he'd be welcome.

NGL even in the dream I was like "wow this seems like a really intense Obikin fic concept," but every time I thought about it, the dream would hammer in on the BROTHERS thing again.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Petard (Part II)

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/31/the-blood-speech/#dudeface-from-chiapas

Biden's FCC unanimously passed a rules banning landlords from accepting kickbacks to force all their tenants to use one ISP as a rental condition. Last week, Trump's FCC boss Brendan Carr (who voted for the rule just last year) killed it, saying that he was sticking up for tenants, who would somehow save money from this sleazy arrangement:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2025/01/fcc-chair-nixes-plan-to-boost-broadband-competition-in-apartment-buildings/

In some ways, this is to be expected. The Trump agenda is about trussing and plating working people so rich sociopaths can conveniently devour them whole. On the other hand, this move lays bare the long-run historical phenomena that led to this moment. Case in point: back in 2013, I wrote a sf story about this very subject, Petard, which was published in MIT Tech Review's 2014 anthology Twelve Tomorrows, edited by Bruce Sterling:

https://mitpress.mit.edu/9780262535595/twelve-tomorrows-2014/

I love that story, and upon re-reading it, I realized that it was extremely timely. So timely, in fact, that I decided to serialize it over four days on my newsletter. If you're feeling impatient, you can tune into a four-part podcast version from 2014 and 2018:

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_278

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_292

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_293

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_294_-_Petard_04

Here's part one of the story:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/30/landlord-telco-industrial-complex/#part-one

And now, onto part two!

My advisor is named Andronicus Andronicus Niyazov, and her parents had a sense of humor, clearly. She founded the Networks That Change lab three years ago after she fled Kazakhstan one step ahead of Gulnara's death-squad, but they say that she still provides material aid to the army of babushkas that underwent forced sterilization under old man Karimov's brutal regime. Her husband, Arzu, lost an eye in Gezi. They're kind of a twitter uprising power-couple.

I'm the only undergrad in the lab, and the grad students were slathering at the thought of having a bottle-washing dogsbody in residence. Someone to clean out the spam filters, lexically normalize the grant proposals, deworm the Internet of Things, get the limescale out of the espresso machine, and defragment the lab's prodigious store of detritus, kipple and moop.

Two days after telling them all where they could stick it, I got a meeting in AA's cube.

"Sit down, Lukasz," she said. My birth certificate read "Lucas," but I relished the extra consonants. I perched on a tensegrity chair that had been someone grad student's laser-cutter thesis project. It creaked like a haunted attic and its white acrylic struts were grubby as a snowbank a day after the salting trucks. AA's chair was patched with steeltape, huge black cocoony gobs of it. And it still creaked.

I waited patiently. My drop was in my overalls' marsupial pouch, and I stuffed my hands in there, curling my fingers around it and kneading it. It comforted me. AA closed the door.

"Do you know why my lab doesn't have any undergrads?" she asked.

I gave it another moment to test for rhetoricalness, timed out, then gave it a shot. "You don't want to screw around with getting someone up to speed. You want to get the wo rk done."

"Don't be stupid. Grad students need as much hand-holding as undergrads. No, it's because undergrads are full of the dramas. And the dramas are not good for getting the work done."

"Andronicus," I said, "I'm not the one you should be talking to –" I felt a flush creeping up my neck — "they –"

She fixed me with a look that froze my tongue and dried the spit in my mouth. "I spent four years in Dolinka prison in Kazakhstan. Three of my cellmates committed suicide. One of them bled out on me from the top bunk while I slept. I woke covered in her blood.." She looked at her screen, snagged her attention on it, ignored me for a minute while she typed furiously. Turned back. "What did your labmates do, Lukasz, that you would like to talk to me about?"

"Nothing," I mumbled. I hated being dismissed like this. Of course she could trump anything I was inclined to complain about. But it was so… invalidating.

"Never forget that there is blood in the world's veins, Lukasz. You've done something clever with your years on this planet. You're here to see if you can figure out how to do something important, now. We want to systematize the struggle here, figure out how to automate it, but eventually there will always be blood. You need to learn to be dispassionate about the interpersonal conflicts, to save your anger for the people who deserve it, and to channel that anger into a theory of action that leads to change. Otherwise, you will be an undergraduate who worries about being picked on."

"I know –" I said. "I know. Sorry."

She held out a hand to stop me fleeing. "Lukasz, there is change to be had out there. It waits for us to discover its fulcrums. That's the research project here. But the reason for the research is the change. It's to be the bag of blood in the streets or the board-room or the prison. That's what you're learning to do here."

I didn't say anything. She turned back to her screen. Her fingers beat the keyboard. I left.

I pretended not to notice three of AA's grad students hastily switching off their infrared laser-pointers as I opened her glass door and walked back out to the lab. Everyone, including AA, knew that they'd been listening in, but the formal characteristics of our academic kabuki required us all to pretend that I'd just had a private conversation.

I pulled my laptop out of my bag and uncrumpled its bent corners. I'd only made it a week before and I didn't have time or energy to fold up another one. It was getting pretty battered in my bag, though, the waxed cardboard shell getting more worn and creased in less time than ever before. Not even my most extreme couch-surfing voyages had been this hard on my essential equipment. The worst part was that the keyboard surface had gotten really smashed — I think I'd closed up the box with a sharpie trapped inside it — so the camera that watched my fingers as they typed on the letters printed on the cardboard sheet was having a hard time getting the registration right. I'd mashed the spot where the backspace was drawn so many times that I'd worn the ink off and had to redraw it (more sharpie — a cardboard laptop owner's best friend).

Now the screen was starting to go, the little short-throw projector attached to the pinhead-sized computer taped inside the back of the box was misreading the geometry of the mirror it bounced the screen image off of, which keystoned and painted the image on the rice-paper scrim set into the laptop's top half. The image was only off by about 10 degrees, but it was enough to screw up the touchscreen registration and give me a mild headache after only a couple hours of staring at it. I'd noticed that a lot of the MIT kids carried big plastic and metal and glass laptops, which had seemed like some kind of weird retro affectation. But campus life was more of an off-road experience than I'd suspected.

But I'd never go glass-and-plastic. AA thought that the way to win a war was to shed your blood. I have a limited supply of blood. There's a lot more cardboard out there. Why fight with meat and blood when you can use free infrastructure and good code to organize a resistance. You'll never win a war of atoms against the Powers That Be. They'll always have more lethal atoms. When they're hitting you with a baton, your glass-and-plastic number will crumple just as surely as a cardboard laptop. The best way to beat a policeman's baton was to be somewhere else when he was swinging it.

I spent fifteen minutes unfolding the laser-cut cardboard and smoothing out the creases, re-sticking everything with fiber-tape from an office-supply table in the middle of the lab, and then running through the registration and diagnostics built into the OS until the computer was in a usable state again. The whole time, I was hotly conscious of the grad students' sneaky gaze on me, the weird clacking noise of their fingers on real mechanical keyboards — seriously, who used a keyboard that was made of pieces anymore? Was I really going to have to do that? — as their chatted about me.

Yes, about me. It's not (just) ego: I could tell. I can prove it. I was barely back up and running and answering all my social telephones when some dudeface from Chiapas sat down conspicuously next to me and said, "It's Lukasz, right?" He held out his hand.

I looked at it for a moment, just to make the point, then shook. "Yeah. You're Juanca, right?" Of course he was Juanca. He'd been burned in effigy by Zetas every year for four years, and his entire family, all the way to third cousins, were either stateside or in Guatemala or El Salvador, hiding out from narcoterrorists who were still pissed about Juanca's anonymizer, a mixmaster that was the number one go-to source of convictable evidence against Zeta members whose cases went to trial. If it wasn't for the fact that Juanca's network had also busted an assload of corrupt cops, prosecutors, judges, government ministers, regional governors and one Secretary of State, they'd have given him a ministerial posting and a medal. As it was, he was in exile. Famous. Loved. It helped that he was rakishly handsome — which I am not, for the record — and that he had a bounty on his head and had been unsuccessfully kidnapped on the T, getting away through some badass parkour that got captured in CCTV jittercam that made him look like he was moving in a series of short teleports.

"Yeah. You got the blood speech, huh?"

I nodded.

"It's a good one," he said. I didn't think so. I thought it was bullshit. I didn't say so.

We stared at each other. "Welp," he said. "Take it easy."

[djarinbabysnotes]

Prologue Preview: Self-Indulgence

Pair: College Matt Murdock x Female Reader (she/her pronouns)

Tags: ANGST, friends to potential lovers, insane yearning to the point of miscommunication, (requited) unrequited love, meet-cute, slow-burn, jealousy, somewhat follows most of canon, eventual smut

Word count: 942 words

Authors note: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE accept my apology for not writing a fic since 2023. Times got tough but I finally got my diploma and it's been sitting on my kitchen counter since. Who cares, right? But fanfiction writing is back on my arsenal, and so is Daredevil. College Matt, you've had my heart from the beginning.

I've had this fanfic idea for so long about Matt Murdock falling in love with a singer??? I'm a huge swiftie and I think Matt Murdock's stupidity lines up with several Taylor Swift songs. My self-sabotage king. Anyway, most of this will be based off of Taylor Swift songs and I've curated this Spotify playlist a long time ago to map out the plot. So here we are. Concrit is appreciated, and please do reblog.

Coming to your nearest Ao3: "Self-Indulgence"

For the rest of my works, please do take the time to visit my Ao3 masterlist. Thank you!

Law school.

It was a metaphorical ditch.

Matt often found her words poetic, almost optimistic with a level of sadness that lingered deep within; like a heartbeat that faltered every few hundred seconds, unsteady, and maybe he was always the cause of it.

She wasn't just some girl from college or grad school, no— The coeds from Columbia flirted with him until he politely declined, and Foggy would send him a subtle kick to the back of his shoes in disappointment, and a split second of indecision would go through his head until he would backtrack and shyly ask the girl to join him for a drink. The cheap Irish whiskey would linger on his lips until it got smudged with the chemical taste of said girl's lipstick. A sock on his and Foggy's door would stay until the early hours of the morning, until said girl found her way out of his life for another one to step in.

Those girls were easy to talk to, or at least it was for him.

When Matt Murdock met her in Columbia, one semester into his undergrad, it was nothing short of a lucid blur; She had the kind of heartbeat that stood out from the crowd as she weaved through the footsteps of students that didn't even spare her a glance. In a way, he felt unique to notice her, special even. She mistakenly dropped a book in front of his feet and he had to pretend to trip over it— And just like that, she fell into his trap. And he was somewhat delusional for it.

An accountancy undergrad, spoonfed by her parents who had plenty of wealth on their belts that he could only imagine a portion of. She wasn't the type to complain often, but she wasn't the biggest fan of having to go to law school by force. He knew half of his criminal law class were bored out of their minds and only wanted to pass each final for bragging rights to their Wall Street parents who originally wanted their children to go off to Harvard, Yale, or Stanford, but didn't make the cut. He knew he was one of the few who'd actually pursue law after passing the bar, and he was doing everything that he could to make it happen.

It was smart of him, of course, to keep two people in his corner to keep him in check every time he felt like he was slacking. The two, of course, were often the opposite of being responsible; Foggy Nelson kept his optimism every time he'd come back to the dorms with a hidden stash of cheap tequila in his back pack, and she— of all people who shouldn't be in love with cheap alcohol— was a big fan of avoiding extra credit. In a way, their own ways of loosening up kept him busy in trying to get the three of them back on track, and the system worked.

She found her way past the uptight dorm hall marshalls every time, flashing them a polite smile and subtly holding up her advanced law books while holding onto his or Foggy's arm. The ruse of a study session always ended up with a new addition to Foggy's glass bottle graveyard on top of a dresser, mingling with the colorful miniature dinosaurs they they once bought with a dollar for a pack after one of their drunken nights. The dorm room wasn't luxurious, but it felt homely even with the smell of Foggy's cheap body spray and the bin that had always smelled of Chinese takeout leftovers. Sometimes, the smell of her empty energy drink cans would also linger in the room for days until the trash gets emptied out, and if he focused hard enough, her perfume would also linger on the walls.

It was stupid. Crushes were for high schoolers, and he was past the age of yearning for a girl who occasionally called him dude with a displeased tone every time he'd say a lame joke. Her faux disappointment with his humor would always end with a slight chuckle falling from her lips, and that was usually a sign of his victory. He knew she was pretty based on the skipping heartbeats from some of the undergrads that would pass by on campus grounds, and she wasn't opposed to flirting with all kinds of people. It was only flirting for her, and nothing more. She didn't sleep around, which was a relief for her safety around campus, but her affinity to find the nearest stash of alcohol at every party was almost a talent. She didn't, however, fail to hand him a drink as well. Thoughtful of her to not leave him hanging, but thoughtless after her fifth glass of anything with a suspicious scent to it.

He found it endearing.

On the walk back to the dorms, she'd have both arms occupied with holding onto him and Foggy while singing some tune that almost made her sound like an angel. She was full of talent, that much he knew of, and she definitely had several options in the entertainment industry to fall back on if law didn't pan out. Foggy was one to encourage the drunken hymns by joining in with a less graceful rendition, and Matt— he'd be the one giggling through his inebriated state until he found the comfort of his own bed.

In short, the path to law school would fall into the list of things he wasn't particularly fond of, but some if it was easy— Having his friends made it feel easy.

Even if he wasn't sure of how it would all turn out.

[bowie-boy]

what about your trans Wilson headcanons pretty please? 👀👀

An excuse to talk about my beloved, trans Wilson…this is an amazing day

(Def me projecting but) Wilson was one of those kids who always knew. Growing up with two brothers, he didn’t really get as a kid that he was different from them and got confused when his parents treated him differently

His first early sign of being trans was when he tried to pee standing up and pissed all over the floor (he assumed he would just grow a penis as he got older) (also me projecting dw abt it)

Once he realized he was technically “a girl,” he went along with it but never really felt connected to being female at all, which led to him feeling really displaced and unattached to people around him all the time

He found out that being a trans dude was a thing sometime in undergrad from one of those 80s talk shows and felt like the world exploded beneath him

Definitely went through an extensive questioning period (even though he definitely knew he was trans) where he would make really long lists of reasons why he was trans, why he couldn’t be trans, pros, cons, etc. and mull over them excessively because he was terrified of making a mistake (me projecting bc OCD Wilson is real and true to me but that’s another post)

Part of this phase involved going to gay bars and finding trans people and basically giving them the verbal equivalent of an “Am I really trans?” Reddit post until they told him he probably was and to stfu

Wilson came out and started transitioning between undergrad and grad

His parents weren’t super accepting at first and didn’t offer to help him pay for anything, nor did they gender him correctly at all, which took top surgery off the table for a long time

The only family member of Wilson’s that was accepting from the get-go was Danny (sad)

Wilson always looked pretty masc so once he started T he passed easily almost immediately but even to this day he’s still paranoid to no end that people somehow Know he’s not cis

Wilson really leaned into dating women once he started transitioning (he’d fooled around with people of both genders in the past while extremely drunk but dysphoria had pretty much taken any kind of sexuality exploration off the table for him)

Got married to Sam way too fast bc he assumed no one else would ever accept him for being trans (Sam’s version of acceptance was like. Never bringing it up)

In my perfect beautiful T4T hilson world, House was Wilson’s first ever trans friend and was his connect for getting top surgery

In an equally real world, Wilson being trans was the one personal detail House never found out until Wilson revealed it at some point in small waves purely to drive House insane

Stealing from @occultbooks but Wilson’s McGill sweater is 1000% his dysphoria sweater

Wilson and Chase go so many years at PPTH with no idea that the other is trans

Wilson’s comphet goes crazy until at some point post season one when his doctor ups his T dose and his sex drive gets completely thrown out of wack and he starts being attracted to House in a way he cannot ignore

Wilson learns from the Internet that starting testosterone can make you gayer and briefly considers dialing his dose back but the dysphoria is too strong so he decides to accept it as a “side effect”

Anyway eventually he realizes he was gay along and is just lowkey super repressed and maybe a little stupid

Amber never made Wilson feel awful about being trans from the get-go and was so supportive and curious and interested and that’s part of why Wilson loved her so so much

In non-T4T-verse, House pretends to be a chaser and is like wow Wilson it’s so hot that you’re trans it turns me on but actually he’s just hiding from vulnerability bc he really is just obsessed with Wilson and his body no matter what

Wilson is always afraid that his STP looks like a boner in his pants and House takes advantage of this paranoia by making as many jokes about it as possible bc he’s evil

Wilson never got a hysterectomy bc expensive but he still gets insanely awful cramps once a month that sometimes suck so bad he needs to stay home from work (this makes him hella dysphoric)

Wilson doesn’t like his top surgery scars but House thinks they’re the hottest thing ever which Wilson uses to make House feel better abt his leg scar

Wilson’s guilty pleasure is man spreading to a horrendous degree bc it helps his dysphoria a fuck ton

The reason why he wears those old man matching pajama sets is because that was his ultimate transition goal as a kid

On really bad days House does Wilson’s T shot for him (the catch is that House insists on doing the shot in Wilson’s ass)

This lowkey got extremely long my apologies but I could actually talk abt this forever

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

A Good Fit**

Brother's best friend trope! I'm really, really happy with this one! I was inspired by the picture above. I was also stoned when I started this so it’s very horny 🫠

Warnings: Cheating, female masturbation, age gap (7yrs), dirty talk, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, choking/breathplay, slight degradation, size kink.

WC: 8.3K

Unfortunately for Harry it wasn’t uncommon that you show up at his place after you’ve had a fight with your boyfriend. So when he heard the knocks on the door he knew it was you from the call you had made earlier from a random number and you asked him if he could send you an uber since your phone was dead. He hurried over and let you in. And as he took your appearance in you didn’t look sad you just looked angry.

“Hey, you alright?” He asked and you exhaled sharply and nodded.

“I am now. Just…needed to get out of there.” You said and he nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“After? I just need to think for a bit. Do you mind if I shower and borrow something to sleep in?”

“Not at all, come on.” He said and guided you through his apartment, “F’you need anything else just shout for me.”

“Yeah, thank you Har.”

“Course.” He hummed before he shut the door to the bathroom and headed off to the kitchen to make some tea.

Harry knew your family because of your older brother. When he did an exchange program during his undergrad years Harry’s family was his host family and they quickly became friends. Then, Harry came to the states for grad school and to work so he was roommates with your brother for about 4 years, which is when you and your family met him. And well that leads to the present! At the end of your 3rd year of university you got offered a spot in a very lucrative and once-in-a-lifetime international cohort and internship opportunity for your final year, and that’s why you moved to London last July. The only reason your parents even allowed you to do this was because they knew someone in London now, that was Harry. He had just turned 30, like your brother, and well your parents knew that you guys got along and that he was a nice guy so they felt comfortable letting you go alone knowing that he was nearby. 

Harry was a really cool guy, but despite that you intended to steer as far away from his as possible because you didn’t need a babysitter. You were 23, soon to be 24! But when the homesickness started to hit you sought him out and he was always so welcoming and comforting and sweet. He knew this shop where they’d sell American treats, he’d take you there sometimes even though it was quite far away, since he had a car. And when you’d be sick or feeling under the weather he’d make you food and bring you medicine…he looked after you and soon you started to spend more time with him. He was actually the reason why you even started dating your boyfriend, Charlie. Charlie was 31, handsome, mature, had a great job…he was really romantic and detail oriented, he just did anything he could to make you happy and for a while things were really, really good. But over the last few months he has been so awful, picking fights for no reason, starting to get aggressive out of no where, flaking on you or just going unheard of for days at a time. The party tonight was a colleague’s birthday party and he had invited you to make up for a fight you’d had earlier in the week over some naked pictures he had recently saved of some girl on his phone. You had a feeling that he was cheating or that something big was off for a while so tonight, when you caught a glimpse of him slipping into a room with that girl from the pictures on his phone you just decided to leave.

You had just finished explaining this to Harry as you sat across from him at his kitchen island in his big, baggy t-shirt and a pair of striped briefs. You hadn’t even touched your tea as you ranted about how awful he had been all week.

“Date older! They said…they’re more mature…s’a bunch of BS.” You finished with a huff.

“Yeah, unfortunately older doesn’t necessarily mean wiser…” he said softly, “I’m sorry all that happened. You do deserve better.”

“I know I do, that’s why I’m not gonna cry about it.” 

“Well if you feel like crying you should.” He said and you smiled and shook your head.

“No, I don’t feel sad. That’s the weird thing, like I just feel…stupid I guess for not…snapping out of this sooner.” You explained, “Like…” you stoped to lick over your lips and snigger, “I’ve praised this guy up and down as if he fucking hung up the sun and moon and bragged about him to my parents and when they come for graduation in 2 weeks he’s not even gonna be around!” You sniggered with embarrassment, “God, I’m such a fucking mess.” You groaned as you covered your face with your palms and he huffed.

“Hey, none of that. You’re not stupid and you’re not a mess. You’re just…young.” He said with a little shrug and you pouted a bit.

“OK why do you say it in a condescending manner though?” You asked and he sighed.

“Y/N, I’m not. I’m just saying that…when you’re young you don’t…you just don’t have any foresight sometimes. Like your brain isn’t even fully developed yet!” He argued factually and you crossed your arms with a scoff.

“So you are saying I’m stupid.”

“No! God, stop putting words in my mouth!” He said back with a flustered laugh and you were not sure what was so amusing about this, you were getting upset at him now.

“I’m not! I’m just trying to figure out what it is you’re implying by telling me that I’m just young and have an underdeveloped brain!” You nearly shouted and he sighed.

“Keep it down, please. I have neighbors.” He warned and you looked at him expectantly and he tutted, “I’m just trying to say that you’re a little…naive.” He finished and you looked at him like he was insane.

“I’m not naive, Harry.” You said and he looked at you like you had grown another head, “I’m not naive!” You said louder.

“Raising your voice doesn’t make what you’re saying correct.” He said calmly and you were boiling over with rage. You knew he wasn’t being smug about it or anything but he clearly was about to school you if you kept pushing this argument. But you were also very certain that he had you all wrong. 

“Then stop calling me naive!”

“I don’t know why you think that’s such an awful thing, Y/N. You’re young, you’re supposed to be naive like…I don’t see the problem.”

“The problem is that naïveté implies that someone is clueless! And I’m not clueless!”

“Not about everything, but there are just things that you do that…show your age.” Is all he said and you pouted.

“OK, like what?”

“Like you dating an older man because he’s gonna be “more mature”, like please, Y/N! Age really is just a number.” He stated with a dry and obvious tone and you scoffed at him, “Or like a few weeks ago when he asked you for money and you gave him, a grown ass man, your money and then had to ask me for rides because you couldn’t reload your tube pass!” He said.

“His car got towed and he lost his wallet!” You defended.

“What kind of mature, responsible man gets so fucking shit faced that he looses his car and his wallet?” Harry asked and you just bit the inside of your cheek as you glared at him, “And you found naked pictures on his phone a few days ago and didn’t end it then?” He questioned.

“Maybe I misinterpreted things or-”

“Or maybe you just turn a blind eye to logic and go against your better judgement because you’re too caught up in whatever illusion he’s weaved for you that you doubt your instincts. That proves that you are naive and imprudent and that, more than anything else, just shows how young you are.” He said. The way you were looking at him kind of blankly made him nervous, maybe he had taken this too far, but it just frustrated him that you chose these things for yourself when you were far more intelligent than that. You pushed reason aside for fun sometimes and it was getting you hurt, which was very imprudent of you, and he wanted that to stop. He wanted you to stop doing this to yourself.

“God, why couldn’t you have told me this sooner!” You groaned with irritation as you crumbled up the napkin he laid out for you and tossed it at his chest. He glanced down at where you hit him with the paper and then back to you with a relieved smile.

“I just…didn’t want to overstep. Like what you choose to do is not my business to meddle in you know. And I get that some people just…learn the hard way. Like when I was younger the last thing I wanted was for someone slightly older to try and give me advice or something when like…experiences will help you learn too and-”

“Jut because you were like that when you were young it doesn’t mean I am.” You interrupted him with a smug smile and he smiled as well.

“Yeah, I…can see that now.” He said softly and you bit your lip as he just looked in your eyes for a bit more. It was making you feel concerned and small under his scrutiny but then he just looked away and shook his head, “Well, I’m gonna get back to bed, but if you need anything just knock or intrude or whatever.” He said and you just nodded dumbly as he started to leave the kitchen. 

As soon as he left you shifted in your seat and then froze at the feeling of you completely drenched in his briefs. Yes, Harry was so nice to look at but you had always kind of seen him as like another older brother. Yeah, you’d had a saucy dream or two of him, but it’d never been more than that, it had never been whatever was suddenly going on in your panties. You shifted a bit in your seat and pressed your hips down and your bit your lip at the friction of the rounded edge of the high stool rubbing right against your slit. You wriggled around a bit to try and get some friction right on your clit and right when you found the position you couldn’t help the soft gasp that left your mouth as you started to hump against it a little harder. One of your hands was gripping the counter and then other the edge of the stool as you ground yourself against it a bit more, your eyes screwed shut as you focused on the feeling of the material of Harry’s briefs starting to stick to your pussy the more you humped against the stool. You started to grunt breathily as the pleasure inside of you started to build and blossom. Suddenly you felt two big hands on your hips, stopping your movements and you gasped in surprise.

“Imprudent.” Harry’s husky voice tickled at the shell of your ear, “See. You don’t have any foresight. You don’t think of the consequences of your actions.” He said and you swallowed thickly, “I mean, did you even stop to think that you’re in my flat? Humping your little pussy on my furniture?” He questioned and you shook your head, “Didn’t think so.” He said, “What’s got you so worked up anyway that you didn’t even have the decency to wait to get into bed?”

“I don’t know. After you left I w-was gonna put this in the sink and I…I was so wet.” You confessed. Mentally you were begging that he’d do something to you. Anything, you’d take anything. Harry smirked at your confession.

“A little degradation kink perhaps…” he said and your arms became covered in goosebumps, “Did you even know until now?” He asked and you shook your head.

“No. I didn’t even think that I would-”

“Get so wet while I insulted your intelligence?” He asked and you nodded and swallowed thickly. He didn’t ask, you just suddenly felt his hand release your hip only for him to  wedge it between your legs. You sighed in relief as he felt how soaked in your arousal the thin material of his briefs were, “Fuck.” He groaned, “If there’s anything good about being young it’s this.” He said as he rubbed your sticky mess into you, you were holding as still as possible, still in shock that this was happening, “Young pussy get’s so fucking wet.” He sighed as he nipped at your earlobe, you were covered in goosebumps, “It keeps getting wetter and wetter the more you play with it.” He hummed in amusement, “Should I keep playing with it?” He asked and you nodded quickly and he smirked, “Tell me then.” You huffed.

“Harry-”

“Don’t whine. Tell me you want me to touch and play with your pussy.” He breathed out and you whimpered, “Please, babygirl. I need to hear you say it, been dying to hear you say it for ages.” He breathed out hard against you.

“Please, touch my pussy. I need you to touch me.” You whimpered and he sighed in relief before turning you around hoisting you up onto the counter. His eyes met yours and the look in them was dark, his pupils were enlarged, and his breathing ragged.

“You’re sure about this?” He asked and you shook your head with a smile.

“No. Are you?” You whispered as his hands ran up and down your thighs and he smiled back.

“No. But I…want to. It’s just…your brother would kill me. Like I’m totally betraying his trust.” He said and you smiled.

“Yeah, he’d be pretty pissed. I like to piss him off though, it’s fun.” You said and bit your lip as he shook his head at your antics, “Don’t give me that, you’re the baby brother, you know how gratifying it is to get under your sibling’s skin.” You said.

“Yeah when I was a child.” He emphasized with a grin and you hummed.

“Then…do it for yourself. After all, you’ve been waiting to play with my pussy for ages, right?” You asked coyly and he chuckled nervously, “How long, hmm?” You asked softly as you draped your arms over his shoulders to minimize the space between you two. He let it diminish as he glanced up in your eyes, “How long, Harry?” You asked again, more pointedly this time and he sighed as his fingers dug into your thighs.

“At mine and your brother’s graduation party. I went inside to get more pool towels and when I passed by the laundry room I heard you and your boyfriend in there. You didn’t fully close the door and I…saw him, very briefly, fingering you.” He said as you smirked, “You sounded so pretty, I just wanted to get in there and make you feel a lot better. Knew I could’ve made you feel better than him.” He confessed and you smiled, you didn’t even remember that happening until he brought it up. You had just finished your first year of college then.

“Really think you could’ve done a better job?” You asked and he almost looked at you in offense.

“I know so. Also know that prick Charlie wouldn’t stand a chance against me.” He stated confidently and you smiled as you just took him in. He really was gorgeous, you’d talked yourself out of crushing on him a lot, especially when you were younger…but now with him so close to you…with his hand having been between your legs…with the very obvious bulge of his boner grazing your right inner thigh everything you had done to not have those feelings for him was completely ruined. You wanted him, you wanted him so fucking bad.

“Show me then.” You said and he looked over your eyes again, “I know we probably shouldn’t but I need it. I need you so badly.” You said softly and he hummed in contemplation. He wanted this too, so badly…his cock was so hard for you. He wanted to show you what he could do; he wanted you to think about it and him between your legs and to get drenched like you were now every time the memory resurfaced, which he would make sure was a lot. This was his one and only chance…

“Just this once.” He decided and you nodded.

“Yeah, just once.”

“Here or in my bedroom?” He asked and you nodded.

“The room if that’s OK. I’ll even go to the guest bedroom after, I promise.” You said and he didn’t wait another moment before he pulled your face in and kissed you. It was sloppy and needy and so fucking desperate that it was making your body even more aroused for him. You loved how big his hands felt on you. You knew he was strong and he could do anything he wanted to you and something about that gave you relief. 

“Hold on tight.” He muttered before picking you up and carrying you the short distance to his bedroom. He kicked the door shut once he made it through the threshold and carefully dropped you onto his bed. You almost moaned just from feeling the bed beneath you, it was so big and soft and cuddly. You never wanted to get up! “Get naked.” He said and you sat up in the dark and tore off his shirt and his briefs, you then hugged your legs to your chest to cover yourself a bit as you waited for him. You could barely make him out standing at the side of the bed, suddenly the side lamp flicked on, “I need to see, want to remember you.” He said as he turned to you again, “Show me your body.” He said softly and you slowly let go and then laid down on his bed. His eyes took in your face, your chest, your stomach, your hips, your labia… but he wanted more, “Open your legs f’me, spread them. Show me your little pussy.” He instructed and you nervously started to part your legs as he started to kneel. He wanted to be face level with your pussy, “Fuck, look at you. Such a pretty little thing.” He huffed and your skin rose with goosebumps, “Can already see you dripping.” He chuckled breathily.

“M’so wet for you, Harry.” You whispered and he hummed.

“I know, babygirl. Show it all to me, hold yourself open for me.” He said as he glanced up into your eyes and you felt your fingers tense, you were feeling nervous and timid, “Go on, babygirl. You can’t be shy about this if you weren’t shy about humping my stool in the open kitchen.” He said and you groaned.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down are you?” You asked breathily.

“Nope.” He confirmed smugly. He was very pleased with you when you brought your hands down between your legs and held your labia apart. He couldn’t help but lick his lips and salivate at the sight of your exposed and spread pussy. It was small and cute, your little clit was swollen and he was aching to suck on it. Then your tight little entrance…it was making him feral. His cock would definitely stretch you open and leave you with a memorable ache; an ache he knew you wanted. He watched your little hole pulsing in perfect time with his heartbeat. He couldn’t help himself as he delved into your pussy tongue first.

“H-harry!” You gasped as he groaned against you and stuffed his tongue inside of you as far as he could. You were squirming until he held your thighs open and started thrusting his tongue in and out of your entrance. You were so sensitive right there and it made you whimper when he started to just lick at and over your hole.

“Hold yourself open for me.” He mumbled as he reared back and then he spat against your pussy. You dropped your head back into the bed as he started to lick you up from top to bottom, he was avoiding your clit though and it was making you go insane. Every part of your pussy was being toyed with except where you were desperate for his touch. He knew what he was doing though as he chuckled and said something about it throbbing. You didn’t need to see it to believe it, you could feel it throbbing steadily.

“Harry, please! Please make me come!” You keened, “Please, please, please, please.” You whimpered as he continued to suck and slurp and lave all over you until finally, he started to mercilessly flick at your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your legs almost immediately started to shake and you dug your fingers into his hair, “Oh fuck!” You cried out. But as soon as he started to suck at your clit you lost all ability to speak. All you could do was gasp and shriek and mutter incoherent nonsense as each little slurp and suckle pulled you closer and closer into orgasmic bliss. When you started to wind up you tugged hard on Harry’s hair and he groaned against you.

“More.” He grunted and so you did it again, harder and his moans only added to your pleasure. He was so consistent, staying at the perfect pace until you started to come undone. Your back arched as you tried to kick him away with your shaking legs, but he was holding them down harshly and sucking and licking you until you had completely withered.

“Oh shit…” you sighed in contentment and just as you had begun to relax your body tensed back up when he nipped at your clit. He held you down as the stimulation continued until you were trembling and coming beneath him and crying out for him to stop. But he didn’t stop yet. It was hard to breathe and your head was spinning as he pulled you through yet another orgasm, you felt so out of sorts as your legs twitched and you hiccuped for a proper breath.

“Fuck…y’just taste so good, babygirl.” His words vibrated against your throbbing cunt and made you wince, “S’alright. I know it’s sensitive.” He hummed before kissing your inner thighs and then working his way up your body. His hands explored your dips and curves expertly and you raised your body to follow the movements of his hands along your skin. When he got to your breasts he was teasing with his mouth, winding you up until your already fucked out pussy was thrusting up, searching for his big bulge to rub against. You thought you were spent, but you needed so much more. Your lust for him kept growing and growing, it was consuming you entirely. 

When his lips finally met yours again and his center aligned with yours you felt relief; he felt big, you had yet to see his cock but he was heavy against you and it was exhilarating. He ground himself against you, working himself up. There would surely be a big wet spot on his sweats but something told you he wouldn’t mind it. The way he was kissing you was communicating very clearly that he had indeed been waiting for a long time to have this opportunity with you. 

“Please, Harry just do it.” You whined breathily, so impatient and eager to feel him.

“You were just begging me to stop. Make it make sense, baby.” He said with a smug grin and you wanted to slap it off his face but the way he looked in your eyes playfully and called you ‘baby’ made you reconsider. So instead of firing back some bratty retort you stayed quiet despite an evident pout overwhelming your features. “Don’t look at me like that, I’ll give it to you, just waiting a little bit.”

“For what?” You asked.

“Don’t you get so overwhelmed that you go a little numb? Read that can happen.” He asked with raised brows and you nodded.

“Yeah, a little bit…” you said as you thought about it.

“Don’t want to be doing things just for the heck of it, want you to actually feel good when I…you know?” He said more timidly and you smirked at him.

“When you what?” You asked.

“What?” He questioned you.

“You said you want it to feel good when you…and then you trailed off into something else.” You teased and he shook his head with a bashful smile.

“You know very well what.”

“Oh come on, just say it. You can’t be all shy about it when you’re about to… you know?” You mimicked him with a grin and he rolled his eyes, “This isn’t instilling a lot of confidence in me…” you hummed.

“Oh please, you nearly passed out from my oral.” Harry countered and your facade broke as you nodded.

“True…excellent oral, by the way… probably the best I’ve ever received.” You mused and he smirked.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah actually, I’d never lie to you about that.”

“About my oral skills?” He asked with a smile and you nodded, “Well, I really enjoyed doing that to you too…probably also one of my favorite times.”

“Probably?” You asked in mock offense and he shrugged.

“Well I can’t tell you the truth! Knowing you, it’ll go straight to your head, s’already too big.” He said with a smile and you hummed.

“Speaking of big heads…” you said with a grin as you rubbed up against him and he chuckled through the little shock of pleasure he received when you ground up against his stiff and aching cock. “Can I touch you while we wait for the numbness to wear off?” You asked as you slowly let your fingers slither down his chest and then circle where you knew his butterfly tattoo was.

“Absolutely not.” He said and you glanced up into his eyes with a frown.

“Harry-”

“I will blow my fucking load in like 30 seconds, OK? I just need to calm down a little bit before I get inside of you.” He confessed and you smirked.

“Oh…”

“None of that smug shit.” He scolded.

“That’s all you do to me! Just be smug and clever and shit!” You reminded with a giggle and he smiled.

“You take it well, I don’t.” He pointed and you hummed smugly.

“Yeah, I take a lot of things well…” you slipped in a little innuendo just for the fun of it and he smiled down at you with a “really?” Look painted across his very handsome and chiseled face. “Well let’s talk about something not sexy to calm you down then.” You said and he hummed in agreement as he then laid beside you and you turned to face him. Your legs trapped one of his in between them and he looked a little concerned, “Don’t worry, I’m not like…trying to make this sentimental or anything I just like how like…how your body hair feels against me. Like it tickles and it’s just a sensory thing I suppose.” You shrugged and he hummed in understanding as you ran one of your legs along his. He kinda had a similar thing he supposed because he wanted to run his hands all over your legs, they were so soft and smooth under his touch.

“What were you gonna talk about before you got distracted by my leg hair?” He asked with a smile and you sniggered as you looked into his eyes.

“If you’ve wanted this for a while why haven’t you tried before?” You asked and he shrugged.

“I just figured that when I felt that way for you it was because you like looked hot that day or something, I never really gave my horny fantasies much weight, you know? But ummm… I think with you being around more and us getting better acquainted like…I’ve realized that I am actually physically attracted to you.” He admitted and you nodded in understanding, “Have you…wanted this before?”

“Ummm…no? I don’t know, really… I’ve always thought you were hot. And I’ve had a couple sex dreams about you though. So clearly, subconsciously, you’ve been on my “to do” list.” You smirked at your pun and he sniggered and shook his head.

“Are these recent dreams?”

“One of them, yeah.” You said and he hummed as he brought a hand to your hip and he let his fingers trace a little further back to your ass as he caressed you, “Oh, I think I’m having a deja vu.” You said and he chuckled.

“Really?” He asked and out of nowhere he smacked your ass hard and you laughed through a surprised shriek, “Liar. You didn’t see that coming did you?” He chuckled.

“Admittedly no. But do you want to know who I did see coming?” You asked with a teasing grin, “Rather prematurely, I must s-” you were cut off by your own laughter as Harry rolled on top of you and started to tickle your sides as you writhed around laughing and gasping for air until he stopped. It was then that you both noticed that one of his hands was laying on your sternum, limiting your intake of oxygen.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright I don’t mind that…I mean it’s not typically where it goes but-”

“Is that better?” He cut you off as his hand slid up to your throat and squeezed at the sides just a little bit and you nodded as best as you could. You loved that slightly floaty feeling that came when you were choked. It made everything feel better, you came for longer, and way harder, “I like this too.” He hummed as he lowered himself now and then kissed you deeply. Your world was spinning as your mouths met eagerly and sloppily, you just wanted to taste any part of him that you could. You could tell that he wanted that too, but he was holding back somehow, you could just feel it inside that there was so much more to explore, “Fuck it if it’s fast, you’ll come. I promise you will.” He grunted and you grabbed his face.

“Also remember, I already came three times so asking for a fourth might be a little much.” You said realistically and he shook his head.

“I want you to come around my cock, Y/N. Need to feel you coming around me.” He said huskily and something told you that whether you intended to or not, you would be coming around his cock and that made you all the more excited. He hadn’t stretched you out at all and so the prospect of getting stretched around his cock was extremely arousing. 

Harry rolled off of the bed to strip his top off and peel his sweats off of his body and your mouth watered at the look and size of him; of course he had a beautiful cock. Yeah, he was on the bigger end of things lengthwise, but what you knew would make it good was the girth of it. His cock was thick and heavy; it probably even looked bigger because of how lean and toned he was, but that didn’t bother you in the slightest. Your mouth watered as you watched him grab himself and stroke back his foreskin to expose the already leaking tip of his cock. After a few more strokes he pulled open the bedside drawer and before he could even search you reached out and stopped his hand.

“I have the shot and I’m clean.” You said and he glanced to you. “I am too and it’s not that I don’t trust you, we just really should use protection.” He said and you did look a bit disappointed at this but nodded.

“You’re right. Sorry if I-”

“It’s alright. Why don’t you want to?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Just wanted to really feel it all, you know? But it is reckless and-”

“Why don’t you want to use a condom, Y/N?” He asked you again more firmly but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I just told you!”

“Tell the truth.” he said and you swallowed thickly as he climbed back over your body and ground against you and you whimpered at his precum making your clit all sticky as it beaded out of his tip. 

“I want to feel you come inside me.” You said softly, “It was in my dream and I just remembered that when you went to grab a condom.” You admitted and he grunted lowly as his eyes closed for a second, just processing the information.

“I can’t finish inside of you, Y/N.”

“I know.” You said with a huff and he mulled over his desires in his head.

“I’ll go bare but I’m gonna pull out though, OK?” He compromised and you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You agreed and he glanced down to where his cock rested over your core. He pushed through your folds once again and you both moaned softly at the wet sounds of your arousal-soaked skin gliding together. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch this as well, you never wanted to forget this, not a single detail of it. You were so wet for him it was unreal. As soon as you positioned yourself to watch him tease your little cunt he stopped watching himself and just watched your face. You were hanging on by the thread. He started to guide himself down to your entrance and rubbed his tip against you, not pressing with enough pressure to try and stretch you open, but just to tease you and himself. Fuck, you were gonna be a snug fit, “D-do you think it’ll actually fit?” You asked as you glanced up at him and swallowed thickly. You asked because just feeling his head against your entrance made you question it because he hadn’t even stretched you out.

“It’ll fit.” He assured you, trying his best not to get too carried away that you thought his cock was so big it wouldn’t fit inside of you, “If not, we’ll make it fit.” He said as he looked at you and you bit your lip in response as a wave of excitement rushed through your body, “Does that turn you on?” He asked and you nodded, “Good babygirl, want you all bent out of shape for my cock.” He said lowly as he started to press his cock against your entrance and you whimpered as your entrance started to stretch around him to accommodate his size. You couldn’t look away as he gently prodded himself against you, coaxing your little hole open for him. It was driving you insane, you wanted him to just push it in, you could take it, you just needed to feel him inside.

“Har, just get it in.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t care if it hurts, it’ll be fine after a little bit and-”

“I care if it hurts you.” He said and you huffed, “Patience, yeah?” He chuckled and you huffed and nodded as you just laid back instead. Watching him take his time was making you absolutely impatient.

“Yeah.” You said and he smiled. He loved how desperate you were for him, but also how he could reel you back in. You seemed to give in to him with such ease and it made him wonder if you were always like this or if this was just his effect on you. He could sleep with you again and verify…but this was a one time thing so he got that thought out of his mind immediately. After a few more goes you started to open up enough for him to push just the tip in.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” You whispered and pressed yourself up again to watch it happen. It absolutely filled him with lust. He bit his lip hard as he added more pressure and your little hole parted and sucked him in, “Oh fuck!” You moaned and then glanced up at him to see his eyes already on yours. 

Harry’s own mouth was hung open now as he struggled to breathe. You were so fucking warm and tight and wet for him. He was reeling as he started to shallowly thrust his tip into you over and over again. His abs were already tightening up. When you started to rub at your clit he groaned because you started to squeeze him.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby. Oh fuck…” he moaned lowly.

“More, please. I need more.” You whined as you fell back into the mattress and he nodded and started pushing more in, feeling you adjust as he went in deeper. This was even better than his first time, maybe because he had wanted this with you for so long, “Ohmygod.” You slurred your words and squeezed your eyes shut. You felt so stretched and full that you thought you might explode.

“Just a little more, babygirl. Just a little more and you’ll have it all inside.” He encouraged you softly with his words as he gently thrust in and out, coaxing you open around his cock with each slow but determined thrust. “Fuck yeah…” he grunted when he bottomed out without a warning and you gasped in shock at how your body just opened up, “Shit such a tight little cunt around my big cock. Told you I’d fit.” He moaned as he dipped down to hover over your face. Something about him acknowledging how big he was turned you on, “Fuuuck…such a good fit.” He panted with pleasure.

You were speechless, mind drawn a blank of everything except him and the pleasure of his cock consistently thrusting in and out of you. It was almost an out of body experience as you continued rubbing your clit as he collided with parts of you that you didn’t even know could make you feel good. It was making your breathing hitch and your legs squeeze around his hips.

“Faster?” He asked after you seemed to get used to the feeling of him and you nodded.

“And harder. Please, just a little harder.” You requested and he obliged immediately and a smile spread across your face as you tipped your head back in ecstasy, “Oh fuck, just like that, Harry!” You moaned and he chuckled, loving the sound of his name in the tone of your voice. His hips snapped harder into yours, the obscene sounds of your bodies meeting were so perfectly synched with the little grunts he’d let out when your centers collided. When you brought the fingers you’d been rubbing your clit with up to his mouth he opened up and sucked on them, wetting them some more before you put them back.

“Shit baby, you feel so good,” He smiled as he placed a hand on your throat and you smiled, “But it’s time to make you come.” He said and you nodded.

“Please make me come.” You whispered breathily and he snapped at your feeble request and started pounding into you like that was his only purpose in life. You squeaked out in surprise at the sudden burst of intensity, but you easily succumbed to the pleasure that started to spread from deep in your belly and to the rest of your body. Harry was overwhelmed with just how perfect you were for him, even into the same things he was into so far. He needed to make sure that he ruined you for anyone else. Selfishly, he wanted to be the man you compared everyone else to. He knew that boys your age couldn’t even compare and that got him off.

“Gonna ruin this little pussy.” He groaned and you moaned in response, “Want you dripping for me every time we see each other. Want you to have more dreams about me and my cock now that you’ve had it.” His words were muffled as he pressed his lips to your forehead. You were all his for tonight, just this one night and he was going to take full advantage of that. “Fuck babygirl, y’just feel so fucking good.” He groaned and started going harder. You moaned each time his cock buried itself inside of you until your legs were trembling, he started to squeeze around your throat and your head started to get all fuzzy as your eyes welled up with tears of pleasure.

“M’close! So close!” You gasped pitifully as you rubbed your clit faster.

“Yeah, I can feel it, babygirl.” He panted, “Come for me. All over my cock, need to feel it.” He muttered desperately. Your body started to tense up even more and your other hand scratched down his back in a desperate attempt to be a bit more grounded as your orgasm started to burst through you; you were squirting. This had never happened to you like this and it was otherworldly. You felt like you were transcending and your vision was going splotchy as you gasped for air that you didn’t have access to. Every part of you was tingling and as soon as you felt your core tighten up for the last time an involuntary and broken cry left your throat as you started to come. You were just moaning, no words were being formed, just sounds as the waves of pleasure started to ripple through you endlessly so it seemed. Harry removed his hand from your throat and bored his face against it, kissing you, tasting you there, milking the pleasure before he had to pull out of you.

“Fuck. Oh fuck…” he moaned lowly as he started to thrust faster, chasing his own released. Your legs crossed around his hips and pulled him deeper, which made you wince but he moaned into your throat at the hot and spongey spot that his tip was kissing with each desperate thrust.

“Please come inside me.” You whimpered and he practically whined against your sweaty skin.

“Baby-”

“Please, I want it so bad. Give it to me, please.” You begged. He really wanted to come inside of you. Make you his in every sense. He kissed your lips messily and nodded.

“Shit babygirl, I’ll give you my cum.” He panted and his steady rhythm started to falter and his breathing started to hitch, “Oh fuck, take it, babygirl. Take all my fucking cum.” He moaned desperately against your mouth as he started to unravel. You moaned as you felt each twitch of his cock inside of you. The wet sounds got louder and his thrusts got slower but rougher as he shot his load deep in your pussy, like you had asked. Your hands came up, one to his hair and the other to smooth over his back as he worked himself through it until his weight was slumped over you. 

A silence overcame you both for several moments, you could not believe how incredible this had all been. You were reeling still, trying to recall little details that would be very useful for you in the future. You smiled dopily at the thought that Harry had done just what he’d set out to do, ruin you for anyone else. You felt him shift and then press himself up to be able to look at you.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly and you nodded before smiling.

“I’m very alright. Are you?” You asked and he grinned.

“Yeah. Never been better.” He assured and you giggled, “That was…really good. Wasn’t it?”

“Too good…” you said with a chuckle and he hummed as he looked you over once more and then looked away from your eyes timidly.

“Yeah…ummm, let me…get out.” He said and you laughed softly, “Just, squeeze a bit f’you can? I…cum a lot.” He said glancing up to you again.

“Of course you do…” you sighed before biting your lip and tightening up. You whimpered as he started to slip out.

“Oh shit.” He said and rushed off of the bed to grab his t-shirt from the floor and quickly   placed it over your vagina, presumably to avoid getting it all on the bedding.

“You’re gonna have to change this anyway, I’ve already…you know.” You said timidly as he glanced up while cleaning you up a bit.

“You can’t possibly be all shy about anything while I’m literally collecting my sperm out of you.” He said and you giggled and just laid your head back down. You wanted him to lick you clean and well, he was thinking the same thing, but this was supposed to be a one time thing. If he tasted himself and you mixed together this way he would surely end up putting another load in your pussy, “OK, I think that’s all of it.” He said as he stood by with the t-shirt just in case. 

“I’ll just go sit in the bathroom for a bit, should probably pee.” You said as you sat up and he nodded.

“Right.” He agreed as he moved to let you get off of the bed. You glanced at the ground to locate the shirt he had given you earlier, but you realized it was the one he had used to clean you up.

“Ummm, I’m gonna grab this one since that one’s-”

“Yeah, go for it.” He assured.

“And your sweats too since the briefs are…”

“Way too wet.” 

“Right!” You said as you picked that up as well and covered your naked body as you started to walk towards his bedroom door, “Thank you for that. But also fuck you for that because, you know that was…unreal sex.” You chuckled as you opened the door and he grinned.

“Yeah. Fuck you too.” He said and you giggled before slipping out and closing the door. 

You rushed into the bathroom when you felt more of his cum start to come out slowly with your movements. So you locked yourself in there and cleaned yourself up a bit more before sitting down to pee. You were panicking now as you thought of everything that had transpired. You ended up taking another body shower because you were sweaty. And as you rinsed off once again there were a lot of thoughts happening. But there was one huge and harrowing thought plaguing you and it was that there was no way this was the only time you guys could sleep together. That wouldn’t be fair, it was way too spectacular to be a one and done. Just the thought of it made you throb as you pulled his sweats up your body. You got the t-shirt on next and then sighed as you turned to the door and had another thought just as you swung it open to see him leaning on the wall directly across from the bathroom door; he was waiting for you.

“I have a boyfriend.” You verbalized your thought to him and Harry stepped up to you and grabbed your face in his hands with a grin.

“Fuck your boyfriend.” He said lowly, “And fuck the one time only thing. And fuck condoms. And fuck your brother’s rule. And fuck sleeping in the guest room.” You smirked at him and he was smirking right back at you, “Are you cool with that?” He asked.

“Yeah. Fuck all that.” You agreed quietly. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t.

“Let’s get to bed then.” He said instead and you nodded and he led you back into his bedroom. There was a new bedcover over some presumably fresh sheets and you both settled in and you smiled as he pulled your body against his. You had both fallen silent, just relaxing and getting used to whatever this was about to be and then his phone dinged loudly from his bedside table. “God damnit.” He huffed and let you go as he sat up and reached over you to grab it and silence it. But when he saw the text on the screen he almost laughed. “It’s him.” He said into the darkness and you sighed. He unlocked his phone and looked at the text, “He says: Hey man, just wanna know if you've heard from Y/N? Her phone is off? Or do you have any idea of where she might be?” He finished reading the message and you smirked.

“Gimme that.” You said and he gave you his phone, assuming you’d send him a message to throw him off that you two were together. But then you pressed on the little camera icon and he couldn’t help the satisfaction he felt seeping into every fiber of his body, “Say cheese.” You sang.

“Fuck that, just take it.” He said and you giggled and threw up a peace sign before snapping the picture and smiling at the result. He looked mad and threatening, which was perfect. Harry grabbed his phone back with a grin and then texted: Yeah man, she’s with me and it’s over with you. “How’s that?”

“Perfect.” You assured and he hummed as he sent it and then blocked his number before handing you his phone to put it back on the nightstand. You hummed happily as he wrapped his arm around you again. As you let his warmth envelope you, you smiled as you started to think about all of the great things that would surely come of this because Harry was absolutely right before, you two were a good fit.

[violetsiren90]

New Rules | Don't pick up the phone.

Table of Contents: Teaser (Prologue); Don't pick up the phone; Don't let him in

Pairing: f*ck boi!Jisung x f!Reader; Jisung x Minho

Genre: choose your own adventure; drabble/vignette series; angst and smut; f*ck buddies; college/post grad

Summary: Jisung has had you wrapped around his finger for the last half-decade. You know good and well that it's time to move on…but you can never seem to follow your own rules long enough to shake him.

*Based on the lyrics of "New Rules" by Dua Lipa

Content warnings: 18+ (minors, dni) Explicit smut; toxic relationship; partying (alcohol and marijuana usage); characters commit sexual acts while partaking in controlled substances; sexual frustration; masturbation; fantasizing; flashbacks/backstory; lust and resentment; possessive Minho; dom Minho/sub Jisung if you squint; voyeurism; hand job; orgasm

Word Count: ~1600

Author's Note: Well, here we go! This is gonna get messy. Thanks to your poll responses (thank you so much for voting!!) we have a Minsung plot line. The next poll will be at the end of the drabble. I hope you enjoy this sinful little indulgence! ❤🔥

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

You know he's only calling 'cause he's drunk and alone.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you watch your phone buzz beside the stove. A groan escapes your lips as you let your head sag between your arms, outstretched to clutch the cheap, white tile of your kitchen countertop.

You’re wet just from seeing his name scroll across the caller ID.

Pushing away from where the device continues to ring out, you press your fingers to your temples and screw your eyes shut.

No. This has to stop.

The sudden phantom sensation of a pussy drunk tongue laving lazily over your swollen clit has you shuddering violently. As your eyes snap back open you shake yourself, stripping off your sweatshirt, suddenly hot.

The phone begins to buzz again, but you retreat into your bedroom, shutting the door as you lay against the cool softness of your comforter. You know what needs to be done…or rather, you know who absolutely cannot be, and your dominant hand has already begun to breach the the waistband of your leggings. You can feel him, smell him, taste him. You chest heaves.

You hold the onslaught of unholy memories at bay as your fingers brush over your mound.

Unfocused gaze aimed at the blades of the ceiling fan as they cycle hypnotically, your mind reaches for an image you’ve recalled and pushed away countless times. Your lips part as your fingers find your warmth. It was the moment that had sentenced you to the madness, an erotic and hollow awakening. You could see it now, as if three years hadn’t passed.

…Jisung.

Han Jisung was a fruit that hung from the tree in the center of the garden. One that many thirsted to taste. You ran in very different circles when you first met, sophomore year of undergrad. He was living life in the fast lane and you were diligently working your way through a six-year education plan. And yet, you became something like friends in the minutes between two and three pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He would drop by the student success center for assistance with business economics, though you rarely talked about that, and amongst the textbooks and index cards and vending machine nourishment, you discovered him.

You found him to be different than he presented in a crowd, especially his typical one. He was shy and sweet and silly with an unbelievable amount of intelligence that he carried around like a key he hadn’t found the lock for - something that kept him awake at night and brought his nails between his teeth. When he wasn’t subdued by a quiet reserve, he wielded his boyish good looks and a charisma that could be harnessed at will with nearly total recklessness, and you fell no less a victim to his cheeky charm than the rest of the student body.

Of course, you’d known of him before he’d sat down at your tutoring desk that first day. Everyone did - and not a few in a way that had earned him a specific brand of notoriety. You’d seen them time and again, the passersby who waved and giggled with their friends at the recollection of a mouthful of his cock.

And you’d taken it for another part of his restlessness, the promiscuity - an easy outlet for all of that vibrating, frenetic energy. Until that night.

Jisung was in a punk rock group, and a good one for being so amateur. The five of them, The Maniacs, had established a fair amount of celebrity on campus. He was close with his bandmates, especially one in particular who you’d taken for his best friend - Minho. He talked about him constantly.

Lee Minho was another fruit on the tree in the center of the garden. Devastatingly handsome, his eyes and lips held a kind of cold cruelty that only seemed to sharpen his beauty, and he sang with the voice of a fallen angel. The senior was The Maniacs' front man and walking lingerie department, considering the sheer number of lacy underthings that had been tossed in his direction. Jisung worshiped him, and it wasn’t unusual to see the pair sharing a cigarette in a grassy corner of the quad, casually draped over one another like two cats in the sun.

Jisung lived in his world, and you in yours. Your circles turned with earth and the moon, intersecting and deviating in natural course. And then, on the Thursday before spring break that year, he did something he’d never done before - he invited you to one of his gigs. It was a house party at the vacation home of an old-money alum. You surprised yourself by saying you’d go. Uncharacteristic of you. You didn’t expect to know a soul aside from Jisung, and it meant calling out of your shift at work…but recently, you’d begun to fantasize.

You’d begun to dabble in dangerous and preposterous daydreams in moments between your encounters, and created a little monster he’d fed just enough with the invitation. You were a sensible person as a rule, and tonight you felt like being reckless. Like being indulgent. So you went.

You dressed the part. Did yourself up. Drenched yourself in your roommate’s perfume.

You showed up on the late side, and the band had already been playing when you arrived. He looked glorious strapped to a guitar in a fitted tank top and distressed skinny jeans, glinting silver hoops catching the light at his ears. You smiled at him when he found you in the crowd and he waved. Then, after the set, he found you, handed you a joint, and told you with a wink to save it for after the show.

Your heart pounded the rest of the night.

You watched him tear up the room with the rest of the band. You cheered uproariously. You danced with your drink raised over your head. If it was a dream, you were sleepwalking for all you cared. The more buzzed you became the fuzzier the lines between reality and fantasy began to appear.

You stayed late into the night, as you’d promised. And sometime after midnight, when the majority of the guests had dispersed and those who remained were locked in bedrooms or passed out on cushioned furniture, he found you. He took your hand and tugged you towards the backyard.

From the couch in the sitting room, sprawled out and sweating with smoke wisping from his lips, Minho watched.

Jisung led you out to the pool, and you both sat on the edge - you with your calves dipped into the cool water as he sat cross-legged beside you. He lit the joint, and you passed it back and forth as you talked. You talked like you always did, but with something new hanging in the air, an energy that had you humming with anticipation beside him. He was so relaxed. You wondered if it was the weed. You hoped it was you. And then he looked at you like he did in your daydreams and his eyes dropped to your lips.

Then his phone chimed.

Glancing at it he sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he stood and told you he’d be back in a minute. So you waited. And waited. Then you pulled your feet out of the pool, picked up your heels, and went to find him.

You didn’t have to look far.

The moonlight was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the wall facing the expanse of the yard and across the sitting room, casting the bodies of sleeping party-goers draped over chairs and loveseats in the cool marble of its illumination. Everything was silent and still - so the soft, desperate groan from the couch on the far side of the space was enough to pull your eyes to its source.

You sucked in a breath, your lips parting and mouth going dry as the scene before you seared itself onto your retinas like an obscene tattoo.

Minho was seated low on the cushions, the black leather of his shapely legs splayed wide to accommodate Jisung. The younger man sat in his lap, his back to Minho’s chest, skinny jeans pushed down his thighs while the older man methodically stroked his exposed cock. Jisung’s eyes were screwed shut, his features contorted in ecstasy - mouth hanging open as he whimpered and gasped.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away…and then you saw his. Minho’s. 

Gleaming and dark and full of a lustful wickedness, they locked you in their gaze over Jisung’s shoulder. As he watched you he began to twirl his wrist, tugging Jisung’s cock in torturous circles as he twisted and pumped so that it began to weep from its tip. Minho’s lips curled up in a sensuous sneer.

You should have run. You should have turned around and shut the door on everything. But you were hazy on weed and liquor and you swayed, frozen where you stood, as you felt a sticky dampness gathering at the gusset of your panties. It was the most arousing and gutting thing you had ever seen.

Minho’s left hand raised to snake around Jisung’s throat, two lithe fingers pressing at his pulse point. Jisung jerked and twitched over him, as if trying to restrain himself from writhing under the ministrations of Minho’s fist. It was intensely lewd, how naked he looked in all his clothes with his belly and cock and the tops of his thighs exposed to Minho’s touch. The zipper on the sleeve of the singer’s leather jacket kept time like a tinkling pornographic metronome as he jerked his bandmate closer and closer to oblivion.

Your pulse pounded in your pussy as you watched your friend’s face twist in carnal euphoria, hips jerking erratically as his white cum surged over Minho’s hand to drip over his bared tummy and hips.

You watched Jisung. Minho watched you.

Your eyes snap open and you pull your sticky fingers from your folds, crying out in frustration as your climax eludes you. Rolling over, you rip open your nightstand drawer to grasp for a vibrator.

The toy buzzes you brutally over the edge.

Your phone has stopped buzzing in the kitchen.

~To be continued~