#and then convinced my professor to like it enough to show it in class

[gyuswhore]

Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

kim mingyu x reader

word count: 21k

contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]

words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD

synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [read here!!!], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!

I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey 🥹 I love u guys

Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much 🤍

on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333

masterlist

Monday

A normal person would’ve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it. 

But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feel…nothing. 

You could’ve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative. 

Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught. 

Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope you’ll hold back from spitting in your professor’s coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.

You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did.  

Which was little to none. 

That was a lie—on your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe. 

Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room. 

He’s wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. There’s pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters. 

This man that’s pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath. 

“I have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.”

He’s talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any you’ve had to bully yourself through. 

“All I can say is to read through the feedback I’ve given and try a little harder next time.” His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing ‘?’’s and ‘no’’s with zero further explanation. He could say more, but you’ve learned that he simply chooses to not. 

Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, there’s another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. He’s hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand. 

The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. He’s crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were today’s worksheets. 

“...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.”

The poor TA looks like he thought he’d have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before he’s flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. There’s a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks. 

You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables. 

“Pass it down, please… pass it down, please…”

There’s a voice that calls from one of the front seats, “What formula is the sheet talking about?”

Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one you’d have to figure out yourself).

 The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased. 

By the time you’ve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.

Sure enough, there’s a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker. 

Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around. 

There’s one person that’s zipping back and forth, just like there always is. 

You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else. 

There’s a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasn’t going to help.

Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation. 

Tuesday

Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did. 

So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building. 

You’ve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you don’t dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again. 

Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door. 

Nothing. 

You knock again.

Silence. 

You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the room…empty.

The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professor’s desk has been occupied this entire time. 

Except he’s asleep.

No, that’s not the professor. 

Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But there’s none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.

You don’t need to see his face to know it’s the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you aren’t quite sure what to do. 

Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek. 

It’s his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesn’t take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance. 

Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you he’s actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit. 

“Um, excuse me.” He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. “Excuse me.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a snore. 

Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. “Excuse me!”

There’s a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire back’s worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.

“Wh–ow!” The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other. 

“W–what’re you doing here?” he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. There’s a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you can’t decipher.

“Um, it’s office—”

His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something. 

“I have to go,” he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag. 

“Wait, isn’t it still office hours?” you call out as he whizzes past you. 

He’s swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, “Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“But—”

“It’s on the portal.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it—” he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. “I’ll double check. But it’s Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.”

“How—”

A loud slam! of the door. 

“—long…” 

You’re left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room. 

He said he’d be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now. 

Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back. 

The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. It’s another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class. 

She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, “Am I in the right room?”

“Uh, yes! I was just leaving,” you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately. 

You’re halfway out the door when you hear another call of an “Excuse me!”

“Are these your papers?” The professor’s full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table. 

The No is ready on your lips. Until it isn’t. 

Later on, you’d consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How you’d ducked under the table to ensure you’d gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face. 

But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that you’d committed.

And nothing of the hourglass you’d just turned over. 

Wednesday

In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.

I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. I’m aware it’s on the portal but I’d like to reconfirm. 

Regards, YN

Dear YN,

Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.

Kim Mingyu, T.A. 

So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath. 

The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professor’s desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen. 

The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isn’t too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early you’ve swooped in. 

There’s a brief consideration whether this was in the TA’s job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found. 

The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait. 

You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain. 

People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is they’re doing, too busy to notice your blank stares. 

The faces are familiar, none of which are people you’ve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. There’s a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume there’s one thing in common the both of you weren’t doing. 

Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room. 

Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebody’s already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the first’s intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves. 

Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. There’s multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyone’s time management. 

Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didn’t want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls you’d noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table. 

Once again, the TA doesn’t seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation. 

It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. It’s then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you. 

“Are you here to see him?”

You don’t expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. “Pardon?” 

“Are you here to see him? Mingyu?”

“Uh—” Wasn’t everybody? “Yeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.”

The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, “God, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.”

“Yeah he’s a bit…unorthodox.”

“He’s unorthodox too.” She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. “A face like that is rare.”

It wasn’t that she was wrong, it didn’t take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people you’d meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a very…overwrought… suggestion wherever he went. 

It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be. 

But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool you’d sound if you admitted to anything other than such. 

“It is. His willpower’s somehow even rarer,” you add. “Don’t know how he does it.”

“God, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.” Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory. 

Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores. 

There’s a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and it’s like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head. 

You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldn’t hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics. 

Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind. 

Alas, you don’t tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat. 

You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you. 

Suddenly, the girl looks startled as she’s told to wait. 

“She’s been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you don’t mind,” you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him. 

For whatever reason, you had no thought that he might’ve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when he’d spoken to you, perhaps he might’ve thought he dreamt it. Or he’d just forgotten it altogether. 

The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality. 

“Thank you.”

It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student. 

“You can come right after her,” he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading. 

Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables. 

You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin. 

Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason. 

It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising you’d forgotten your bag in your seat. 

Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an “Oh!” as you spring back up immediately. It’s easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat. 

The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like she’s trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat. 

Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once you’ve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do. 

“Right. How can I help you?”

Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him. 

One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page. 

“It’s a 37,” you inform him like he couldn’t see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell. 

“Do you think you deserved a better grade?” he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know. 

It stumps you regardless.

“Well…I know I can do better, at least,” you decide to answer. 

“You’re here, which means you’re at least willing to try. That’s a start,” he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.”

“You marked them?”

He raises his brow, “I hope that wasn’t an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.”

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

“He’s…supposed to.” There’s a forced reservedness in his voice. “I mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But I’m not sure you’d fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.”

Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise you’re at a loss for words. 

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You don’t have an explanation, but it’s somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man that’s meant to help you. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. “We’ll work through it.”

He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand. 

Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.

“Lab reports can be quite tricky if you aren’t sure what you’re doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?”

You mean the one that did nothing to help? “Yes.”

“You got those bits right, format and whatnot. But—”

“It was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,” you say plainly.

Mingyu lips are in a tight line. “Well, yes, but it helps—”

“I know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I don’t need a PDF to tell me that,” you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. “I want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

“He can’t even mark his own papers. I’m quite sure that’s not in your job description. It’s supposed to be him here. Not you.”

It’s silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyu’s fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger. 

“And yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.” He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. “And, better that I’m here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.”

Help, he did. 

Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag. 

You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.

“I almost forgot,” you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him. 

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue. 

“You left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,” you say, before quickly adding, “There was a class right after you left. I took them off the professor’s hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.”

“I’ve been looking all over for these,” he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. “Thank you.”

You flush for some reason, “O–of course, couldn’t just leave them there.”

Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. “Maybe don’t run out of rooms still half asleep.”

By the grace of God, he laughs, “No, you’re right. I should be careful.”

It isn’t till you’re pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. “You can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He’s stood up as well. “I have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.” 

Feet planted on the ground, there’s not much you can do but stare. “Um, sure. I can come in a little early.”

He nods casually, “Thanks again for the papers. And the watch.”

You smile, “No problem.”

Thursday

True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.

Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.

“I don’t know if I can make time for that—no, I understand, sir,”

Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt he’s entirely comfortable with. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“Light on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,” he startles when he notices you. 

Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. “Sorry.”

You know it’s invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. “Important call?”

“Uh, yeah, um, just work stuff,” he states, shaking his head swiftly like he���s trying to shake the thought out of his mind. 

There’s a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more. 

“It was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,” he says. “As always.” 

“Does he do anything other than show up to class?” you ask through a snort. 

“Of course he does. He cusses out every article he doesn’t agree with, is anything but objective and…the occasional relay of blatant misinformation.” 

For the record, you’d never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months he’d been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear. 

The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation. 

Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable. 

That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professor—it was something you couldn’t quite believe he was capable of. 

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, “Anything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, he’s done a lot for the area, can’t discredit him entirely.”

With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh. 

Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, “I’m stuck.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. “I am too. Help.”

Help, he does.

Monday

Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday. 

The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch. 

Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you don’t tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, “Make that two, please.”

It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early. 

Something isn’t right. 

Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job. 

It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction you’ve had with him. 

He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. “‘Morning!” 

“...Morning.”

“You’re early,” he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach. 

“Figured we both needed this,” you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. “It’s a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.”

“O–oh, thank you. And you’re right I did need this.”

Now that you’re closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer. 

To Do:

Call mom

Shoot myself

“You, um—” It’s alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lil’ something on your face.

But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know. 

There’s a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. “For fuck’s sake.”

“It’s okay! I wanna…shoot myself too sometimes.” 

What the fuck?

“I mean!” you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. “It’s okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.”

It’s all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesn’t try to sabotage your education. 

“Good thing it was just you. Yeah.”

Just you.

“Anyways, I think I’m done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?” 

“Have you seen the time?” 

“Not a morning person?”

“Nope!”

“And yet it’s 7:40 on a Monday morning and you’re absurdly early.” His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you. 

“Do you want the coffee or not?” you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself. 

The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair. 

He gives you a crooked grin,“I apologise.”

“To be fair,” he continues. “I’m not much of a morning person either.”

You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, “I’m starting to think no money’s worth this job.”

Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, “You’re right. Not sure why I’m still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.”

“And that isn’t happening because…?”

Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. “I like Dr. Cho.”

“You—”

“I know,” he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. “I know. I sound like a lunatic.”

“I don’t know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.”

“Another would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.” 

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Excuse me for doing my job.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, “No, but really. I can’t imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.”

Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. “When I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.”

“PSYCH101?”

“That’s the one. I’d never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Cho’s studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything he’d published, some of ‘em before any of us were even born.” 

“Oh. So you’re a fan.”

“Everyone tells you to never meet your idols,” he snickers. “He’s done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.”

“I’m sorry it had to be you,” you half joke. 

Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, “That might also be my own fault.” 

“Don’t tell me you offered.”

“I might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was just…plain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true. He was always emailing me extra resources which…I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.” 

He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, “I guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know I’m getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.”

“Did he…have a TA when you were in his class?” 

“Four.”

“Four?!”

“Two at a time. All of ‘em quit at some point. Said they didn’t want the recommendation or the pay.”

“Would he…not give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.”

Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, “He’s a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If you’ve impressed him, you’ve impressed everyone.”

You take a moment to really absorb everything you’ve just learned. “That’s a sucky position you’re in.”

“Tell me about it. But it’s okay. Three—three and a half more months to go? This isn’t even the worst of it, I’m just dreading study week when I’m gonna have to handle all the crying.”

You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept you’d be alright with this class. 

“I know you’re not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.”

“Ever heard of barriers to entry? I’d be ruined if I wanted a career in this.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “All I’m saying is I’ve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months I’ve spent cursing this very lecture hall.”

If you weren’t lying to yourself, you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you can’t help but bite back your own smile. 

“If I can help you then it’s worth losing myself.”

Your heart is in your fucking throat.

“I’m glad when students tell me that,” he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re—” you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. “You’re doing more than just something right. You’re saving us therapy and an extra semester.”

He laughs at that, and you wish he’d let you breathe. 

“Feels like I’m doing something wrong sometimes,” he huffs. “My friend’s a TA too and he’s got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else he’s got going on.” 

He goes on, “Do you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuck’s sake—”

Mingyu is cut off because you’re laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. “W–what?”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just…It sounds like you don’t know what you look like.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” he frowns.

“Nothing!” you exclaim. “But that’s the problem isn’t it.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.

“Can’t possibly be enough to distract people,” he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he can’t get through to. 

“Majority of the class would beg to differ.”

There’s a pause as he registers what you imply. 

After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, “Would… you also—”

There’s a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, he’s already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned. 

“That’s our cue,” you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professor’s desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu who’s suddenly frantic. 

Of course you realise there’s people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.

But you feel the soft of Mingyu’s shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is. 

“Relax,” you whisper. “You’ll be better off without all the panic.”

You don’t see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyu’s face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes. 

Thursday

Midterm season is nothing you’ve ever really had to worry about. 

Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons. 

Except this class isn’t ordinary, and it’s all you’re able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full. 

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re more ready than anyone else in class.”

“How do you know that?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly, “If I don’t know that, then who else does?”

You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time you’ve teared up in front of him, but also because you’re in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return. 

“But I don’t feel like I’m ready,” you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book. 

“You’ll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,” he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up. 

Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, “You only feel that way because I’ve been giving you harder problems to work on. You’re past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, you’re more than prepared.”

“But—”

“Listen,” he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. “It’s only the midterm—”

“Only the—”

“If this goes wrong, I’m just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it won��t go wrong because I said so.”

You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard. 

“I’m assuming…” you start. 

“Hm?” he looks over to you.

“I’m assuming you can’t hint at what’s on the paper.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, “You assume correct. I’m not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.”

“But it’s just the midterm,” you mumble, not even close to remotely audible. 

“What did you say?” Mingyu smirks. 

“Nothing,” you huff.

“You know, I’m a little offended you don’t trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t.”

“Well then, stop being such a worrywart.”

There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind. 

He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. “I made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know you’re gonna be fine.”

In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you don’t see it illuminate anything other than the man before you. 

Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you don’t take anything into account as you note Mingyu’s eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone you’d ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know you’d feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend. 

He’d given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you. 

You sniffle. 

His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal. 

You know he’s real. And you don’t know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.

Monday

You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.

It’s midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow you’d have to perform for today.

It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater. 

Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you. 

“Morning, champ,” he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest. 

Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?” he huffs in one long, rapid question. 

“Um, I mean,” you stare at his shirt that’s backwards. And inside out. “I can’t tell if that’s a choice or a mistake.”

Looking down at his front, he looks back up, “What?”

“Your collar is…not at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirt’s inside out.”

Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. He’s immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like it’d all disappear if he keeps them like that. 

“Wait!” you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. “Do you wanna strip for the CCTVs?”

You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him. 

You’ve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, he’s blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes. 

It’s hard for you to listen to him when you’re more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasn’t a breathing corpse. 

“Mingyu…did you sleep at all?”

“Hm?” His eyes are glazed over and unfocused. 

“Sleep? Rest?”

“Oh,” he frowns. “Not really. I had emails coming in all night.”

“And you were replying?”

“It's the midterm today,” he responds flatly, like it should’ve been enough explanation. 

You almost don’t believe him. “Doesn’t mean you stay up to answer something that should’ve been cleared out beforehand!”

“Couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves,” he dramatises. 

“Yes, you could!” Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what he’s doing to himself. “You barely look human and it’s only the midterm.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I don’t know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.”

Mingyu’s jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. “I can’t get anywhere if I don’t—”

“Mingyu, please. This isn’t good for you.”

He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. “If you think this job isn’t worth it then you just don’t know.”

“Mingyu—”

“No, you don’t, because I’ve seen how good of a job I’ve been doing.”

“You have, you’ve been amazing but—”

Mingyu’s own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!”

And then he’s getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, “Why on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if I‘m doing my job?” 

It might’ve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger. 

Why on earth do you care so much?

Right. Why do you? 

“Are you asking me that?”

“What?”

“Are you asking me why I care?” 

Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before. 

His eyes are bloodshot. 

“I have to get the exam pack.”

Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, you’re left with a feeling that’s right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professor’s desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin. 

There’s a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. It’s like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.

Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.

Everything you’d subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didn’t fit where the laws wouldn’t allow it. 

The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.

Monday

Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch. 

It wasn’t broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didn’t work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again. 

You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.

Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to ‘shut down’ when overwhelmed or stressed. 

It’s happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when you’d neglect food or water on busier days, or when you’d stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday. 

Regardless, you’d found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset. 

Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldn’t work, just like how the latch wouldn’t fit when you’d do the same with your beloved old box. So you’d take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click. 

On the morning of your midterm, when you’d ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones you’ll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself. 

Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, you’d seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to. 

Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you. 

“Pass it on, please…pass it on, please.”

The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong. 

You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most. 

That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again. 

Because it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t hate him. 

As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you don’t. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom. 

Throughout your years of living, you’d learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it. 

Everything. You tried everything. 

But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.

It’s Wednesday. 

You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; it’s safe and you know you’ll like it. 

Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone else’s cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash. 

It’s 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. It’s strange. It feels like you’re missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements. 

The papers are the same. But you read them anyway. 

Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another. 

It’s accursed the way the universe won’t let you live. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect. 

Estimation cannot be perfect. 

[_]

It’s Thursday

Class. Eat. Drink. Work.

Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!

[_]

It’s Friday

Eat. Drink. Work.

Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out

[_]

It’s Saturday

Eat. Drink. Work.

P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)

              ——————

                     P(B)

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

 it gets less complicated

 promise :/ 

[_]

It’s Sunday.

Eat. Drink. Work.

The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

you’ve got this!!! < 3

You give up.

It’s Monday.

8:14 AM. 

You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Cho’s outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least that’s what the twinkle from up here looks like. 

He’s insulting another author, the man’s ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal. 

There’s another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds. 

An hour later, you’re staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language. 

Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note. 

Bright pink sticky note. 

You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that. 

9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag. 

Dr. Cho doesn’t even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.

In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours. 

It’s Tuesday.

You’ve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are. 

They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better. 

It’s silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it. 

Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely. 

The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf. 

Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.

It’s Wednesday.

After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.

It’s Thursday. 

Walking out of class, your mind is empty. You’re still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears. 

This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something you’ve learned to appreciate. 

With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway. 

It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.

You freeze like you’ve been caught. 

The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed “Hey!” knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension. 

You’re off centre. But it’s fine. 

It’s Monday.

“Midterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions I’ll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, either’s fine.”

Dr. Cho isn’t here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour. 

You want to leave, not caring about how strange it’d look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you don’t understand but more familiar than anything else. 

Mingyu’s voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference. 

It’s Tuesday.

Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.

—  92/100

It’s Wednesday. 

4:10 PM. It’s almost too much for you. Almost. 

The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handle’s rebound even more so. The room doesn’t so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things. 

The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up. 

It’s ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months you’ve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, he’s breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view. 

“Did you feel bad?” you spit.

“What?” he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, “Can we talk? Please.”

“Answer the question, Mingyu,” you snap. You don’t care there’s a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. “Did you feel so bad you had to give me something I didn’t earn?”

He’s stood up now, half confused. “Is this about the midterm—”

“I did not get a ninety two, I know I didn’t,” you grit. “Whatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?” you announce, louder than before. 

The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyu’s face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage you’ve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense. 

Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning. 

There’s a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes. 

A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.

“Here. It was all you, if you can’t believe me.”

It’s a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two. 

Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason it’s only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You don’t open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages. 

Because you know you’ve lost.

It’s Thursday. And it’s full of regret. 

There’s a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. It’s in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live. 

There’s a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you aren’t waking up from this one. 

In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true. 

In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad that’s been sleeping with you every night. 

If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, you’ve crossed it with the resentment you’ve now fostered for yourself. 

Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet. 

It’s Friday.

At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial. 

Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. You’re crying over Bayesian inference and it’s somehow more pressing than any other emotion you’ve ever felt. 

Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a fool’s game altogether. 

Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth. 

[Mingyu]: switch to bF10 

[Mingyu]: you’ve been pulling numbers from bF01

It’s immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01. 

With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with. 

Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. It’s stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before. 

Do you not miss me?

Do you not want me around?

Talk to me

I miss you

Please talk to me

“I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true.”

Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine he’s helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing you’d make blunders out of. 

The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knife’s twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything he’s bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place. 

There’s a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. 

It’s Saturday. 

Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same. 

The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too. 

“Latte, please,” you voice. “Iced.”

“We have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?” The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice. 

“Um, no thank you. Just one, please.”

She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldn’t bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand. 

You’re plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name. 

“...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.” 

“He has time to hook up?”

“I remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.” 

“A ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.”

“Whatever, at least we know he’ll entertain you if he likes you enough. I’m just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.”

There’s an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further. 

“Unless he flirts in variables.”

“All is forgiven when you’re born with a face like that.” 

Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual. 

Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls. 

There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily. 

She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition. 

Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesn’t look as menacing as you feel. You don’t wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.

It’s Sunday.

It seems every sip of water you’ve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears you’ve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.

Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. It’s another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle. 

Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesn’t make sense, the commands you’ve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page. 

Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator. 

With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved it wasn’t that particular snag. 

The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear she’s playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work. 

The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. You’re going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and  disappearing before going back to normal. 

Bayesian inference…z scores…null hypothesis…

Wait. 

It’s like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone else’s dark blue on your notes.

no null hypothesis in bayesian approach

Bayesian approaches don’t use null hypotheses. And z scores are in…

“Oh my god, this is a t test,” you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, you’re scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set. 

And there it was…a clear 0.067 under the p value. 

In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely. 

It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you can’t help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library. 

When the initial adrenaline fades and you’ve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students. 

The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click. 

There’s an attached file in the email you draft. 

The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version. 

Regards, YN

It’s almost like you’re trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact. 

You don’t need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own. 

But you don’t email him, backspacing till it’s empty once again. 

Dr. Cho’s email sits in that place instead, a first for you. 

SEND.

You don’t expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you aren’t sure if he’s going to respond at all. You’ve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. You’re forced to consider. 

Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well? 

A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrow’s class when you’d have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week. 

Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox. 

There’s a new email in your sent box after you’re done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar. 

Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. You’re out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this. 

You’re afraid if you put a hand to your stomach it’d be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox. 

Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop. 

The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. There’s no way to tell if you’re shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen. 

RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, it’s almost funny you expected any different from him. 

The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and it’s like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift. 

Clicking on the notification, the email opens. 

Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. I’ll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

There was no way he didn’t have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and you’re sure he knew you’d realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes. 

But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building you’d once considered a second home. 

You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly. 

Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. It’s strange, you’ve never seen it wide open before. 

Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professor’s desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward. 

Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. It’s warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather. 

The desk up front is occupied, as it always is. 

Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend. 

It wasn’t that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, you’d done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.

 Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.

If that was the case, you would’ve been right. There’s a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed. 

Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. There’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, “‘Morning.”

You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. “‘Morning.”

You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both. 

It’s so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do. 

“I, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.” There’s an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now. 

He clears his throat when you don’t respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you. 

“Thanks,” you hoarse. It’s the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course you’d recognise his handwriting. 

“I didn’t have time to print one out right now. I’ll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,” he explains. 

“That’s alright.” You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. “Thanks again. I’ll…get going.” 

Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. You’re already halfway to the door though, and your pride’s already deemed it too late. 

Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop me—

There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice. 

Turning back around is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. 

Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasn’t expecting you to turn back. “Can we talk?” 

And then he’s pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, “Please?”

So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man that’s haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in. 

“I guess I should start with an apology,” he’s fidgeting with his own fingers. “I don’t need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion because…”

He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that when you didn’t deserve it.” 

For about the millionth time, you realise you’re tearing up again. He continues. “And then…right before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didn’t touch those numbers.”

He really didn’t, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.

“I thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldn’t find you, and then you were gone right after. I didn’t text or call because I was sure I’d fucked it all up.” 

“I’m sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. “I really hope you didn’t get into any trouble.” 

“I–no, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I promise I didn’t.” He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping you’d believe him. You nod slowly. 

“It wasn’t even that bad, what you said,” you sniffled. 

He scoffs at that, “I’d beg to differ.”

“I would’ve gotten over it,” you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something you’ve had trouble admitting to yourself. “I should’ve gotten over it. I don’t know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I haven’t been acting like normal ever since, and I’m sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didn’t need to turn into…this!”

“You were hurt because I hurt you.”

“People have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I should’ve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. But…yeah.”

There’s a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. “I just want us to go back to normal. I’ve missed you. Alot.”

“Me too. The go back to normal bit. And the…missed you bit.”

Mingyu’s half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. “I’d thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, that’d be admitting defeat. That you’d think I…couldn’t do it.” 

Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears. 

You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasn’t what he meant.“Since when are we on caring terms?” 

Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."

It’s hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words. 

“Oh well I’d hope you’d care, since you’re my TA and all.”

“Not in a TA way.”

“Tutor way.”

“Um.”

“Friend way? A human way?” 

“No.”

You both know you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you aren’t sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm. 

“You know what?” he rasps. 

“What?”

Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. You’re not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyu’s lap. 

And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own. 

You’re stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom. 

It’s short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. “Does that clear things up?”

There’s nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. “Hm.”

He laughs at your half dazed state. It’s a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. “Maybe one more time. To make sure.”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. There’s more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close. 

The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good you’re already half faint. 

His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you can’t believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasn’t some too vivid fever dream. 

He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours. 

“For the record,” he pants. “I love that you care. And I hope you’ll keep caring. Because I don’t think I can handle it if you walk away after this.”

Mouth back on his own, you decide there’s only one way to convince him you weren’t going anywhere without dragging him with you. 

MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected. 

Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch. 

Like you would run away if he didn’t, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head.  

You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks you’ve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself. 

“I went to a frat party,” Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. “For Halloween.”

The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, “You went to a frat party?”

He snorts, “Dressed up for it too.”

“Oh my god,” you voice in mild horror. “Do I wanna know?” 

“Wonwoo and I matched,” he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. “I was Mario, he was Luigi.”

“How adorable.”

He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they aren’t wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition. 

“Thing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,” he informs. 

“That might’ve been a little better.”

“What’s wrong with Mario?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing. But I do hope you weren’t sporting an Italian accent throughout that.” 

“I was,” he pushes. “A horrible one too.”

You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll. 

“You could’ve gone as Peach. We could’ve matched.” 

“I don’t know if I’d wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.” You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October. 

“Maybe in private,” he says with an insufferable smile on his face. 

Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. “I’m not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.” 

“Who?”

“You and Wonwoo, you’re practically married.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own that’s stuck to him. “Not with whatever he has going on with his girl.”

“Oh right,” you frown in remembrance. “What happened to not understanding how he does it?” 

“Hm?”

“He’s a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didn’t know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.”

His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. “I may owe him an apology.”

“Do you?”

Mingyu frowns, “Actually no I don’t. I don’t think he and his lady are doing too well right now. He’s been insufferable lately.”

“Is it because of the TA-ing?”

“I never know with those two,” he sighs.

There’s silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like he’s trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you. 

“Do you…know about us?” There’s hesitancy in the way you ask. But you can’t help but ask anyway.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. “I know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know I’m in it for the long run.”

“I’m glad you’re smarter than your husband,” you smile.

He only rolls his eyes, “He’s only good at one kind of chemistry.” 

“D’you think they’ll be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he assures. “They’re just going through a…rough patch.”

“Like we did?”

“If you’re asking me, I’d say they’re being a little more stupid about it.”

The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, “They’ll be okay though.”

“I hope so. I’d like to go on double dates with my boyfriend’s husband’s girlfriend.” You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice. 

“This is getting weird,” Mingyu breathes. 

You only hum against his mouth, “Do I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?”

“For fuck’s sake.” 

You’re both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you can’t help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you. 

“I did the sticky note thing again too,” Mingyu says into the silence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again. 

“Said something worse this time,” he continues as you laugh into his chest. “Accept that you’ll die alone or some other shit like that.” 

There’s comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary you’ve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click. 

Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend. 

MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling you’ve grown dangerously accustomed to. 

It isn’t that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply aren’t on you enough. 

The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You weren’t avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both. 

You don’t even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students. 

The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place. 

You’re barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as you’re catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you. 

Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyu’s slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you aren’t escaping the iron grip he’s got on your face. 

Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way. 

“You aren’t actually paying attention in class anyway,” he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. “So why don’t you sit in the back where you don’t distract me.”

“Who says I’m not paying attention.” You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead. 

“You’re paying attention to me.”

“It was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.”

He’s all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, “Was letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed he’d been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man you’ve been accustomed to. The fact that he’s whispering directly into your ears isn’t helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine. 

It lands with precision, right at your core. You’re too hot to tell, but there isn’t a doubt you’ve begun to pool. 

There’s a ding in the background. 

He’s suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether. 

Another ding. 

He’s reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like he’s testing the waters.

Ding. 

Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt. 

His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached wit’s end. 

“Gyu…” you whisper. 

“Ignore it,” he growls. The ringing has stopped. 

He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso. 

His phone begins to ring again. 

Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you weren’t sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now. 

He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily. 

The ringing stops. 

Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you can’t quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage. 

There’s a ding. 

“Mingyu, I really think—”

His phone begins to ring again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest. 

“You should answer.” 

He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Cho’s name on the screen. “It’s eleven O’clock.” 

“It might be important.”

“The last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,” he grunts as he silences his phone. 

You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyu’s hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up. 

Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, “Nooooo, I’m gonna ignore him.”

“He’s not going to leave you alone,” you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear. 

As if to prove your point, Mingyu’s phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect. 

“Go on.”

He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, “Hello?”

His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out what’s being said on the other line. “Where have you been?”

“It’s nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.”

“My flash drive won’t open up on my computer.”

You have to stifle a snort. 

“Is it…plugged in?”

“Of course it is, I’m not an idiot.”

“Is it showing up on your files?”

“Disk…is not…formatted.”

“Erm, it might be corrupted.”

“How did that happen?”

“Did you download something off the internet onto it?”

“Hardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!”

Your fingers are massaging Mingyu’s temples as you feel him tense on top of you. 

“Your attendance sheet is on the teacher’s portal,” Mingyu grits before adding, “sir.”

“...I have other things on there too.”

Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. “This sounds like something tech support could help with.”

“Why can’t you help?” he asks sharply. 

“I…I don’t know how, sir.”

There’s a noise of indignation from the other end, and you can’t help but keep from laughing. 

Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. “I’ll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And I’ll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesday’s classes.”

The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professor’s hung up as soon as the words left Mingyu’s mouth. 

“Wow,” you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyu’s head heavier on your chest. “Not even a thank you.”

“Absent father behaviour,” Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt. 

It’s a bad joke, but you laugh anyway. 

“Will I be an asshole if I say I’m not in the mood anymore?” he murmurs. 

“Absolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.”

“Gross,” he comments, but he’s laughing too. 

“Should we call it a night?” he asks, rearing his head. 

Nodding, you rise with him. By the time you’ve reached the bedroom, you’ve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice. 

“I need a shower.”

Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt. 

“Do you wanna come in too?” 

Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. You’ve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment. 

THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season. 

Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed. 

You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he “doesn’t move to insanity”. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.

Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyu’s chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer. 

It was a Friday night, you’re alone at Mingyu’s place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this week’s tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head. 

Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldn’t ask him for a thing. 

Tired was a look on Mingyu you’d gotten quite used to, so you’ve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight. 

His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth. 

Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. “Did you finish the tutorial paper?”

You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. “Not yet. One last question and I’m done.”

He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan he’s pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“I can figure it out myself, Gyu.”

“You would’ve been done by now if you could,” he answers. It’s annoying that he says it but he’s also right. 

Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didn’t look an inch from passing out. 

He mumbles the question as he reads, “It’s nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and you’re done.”

The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table. 

“Did you get everything else?” he asks in earnest. 

“Hm? I think so.” 

“Good.” And then he’s throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly. 

He’s in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throat—clean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but it’s only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea. 

Besides, it’s a Friday night. No reason to not. 

“Gyu,” you shuffle closer. 

Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, “Yeah?” 

You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. “D’you think…d’you think you can go over post hoc tests again?”

“Post hoc?” He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. It’s an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in. 

Not that you care what he thinks right now, he’d figure out why you were asking anyway. 

“Post hoc, um,” he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory. 

Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it. 

“Analysis tool after you’ve already run the data,” he begins. 

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear. 

“Results have to be…they have to be…” He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach. 

“Hm? Has to be what?”

“Statistically significant,” he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. “To run a post hoc test.”

His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something you’re both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. “Results of what, baby?”

“For the love of—”

“Go on,” you whisper in his ear. “Please.”

One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. “ANOVA.” 

“What’s that again?”

“You little shit.”

You move your mouth forward to kiss him.

“Analysis of variance.” 

You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, that’s all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length. 

“What’s it for though? We already got our results.” Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where he’s most sensitive. 

“Ugh, fuck, for um,” he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks. 

“For…for…” His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach. 

Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. “For? Keep talking, baby.”

“For…To identify groups,” he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. “Identify…the differences, shit, hmph.”

He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, “Identify which groups actually differ, oh my god.”

The bit of him that you can’t fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.

“How many groups?” you ask, before diving back in. 

“Three,” he chokes out. “Three or more, oh I’m gonna cum, fuck don’t stop, holy shit.”

Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure it’s coarse enough to get the reaction you want. 

You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place. 

You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue. 

When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room. 

Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where he’s most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth. 

You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyu’s hoarse protests. He’s almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time you’ve hauled his tired ass into bed, you’re just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you. 

Mingyu’s face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him. 

“I might love you,” he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear. 

You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch. 

I might love you too. 

You hide that as well. For now. 

Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.

“Feel free.”

[Mingyu]: class ended early 

[Mingyu]: be there in 5 

[You]: ???

[You]: wdym ended early

[You]: kim did u end class early to come home

Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. You’d stayed the night at his place, knowing you didn’t have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics. 

He’d left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyu’s already overflowing plate now, you couldn’t deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not. 

A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyu’s pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.

As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost. 

He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. “You’re getting too comfortable with this job.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.”

You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. “How’s the congestion?”

“Bad,” you respond nasally. “I can’t find my Afrin.”

“It’s on the bedside table, baby.”

“No, it’s not.”

Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.

“I’m not awake enough to navigate,” you sniff.

“I’ve got you,” he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly. 

The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray. 

You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. “Told you.”

Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it. 

“Good thing I came back early, hm?” 

“Shut up.”

He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.

There’s nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that. 

“Are you gonna keep doing this till finals?” you ask throatily, shifting under the covers. 

“Teaching during class time is just extended office hours, I’m gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. Or…once more if I feel it.”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?” 

Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets. 

It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, you’ve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.

“Ugh, not this week. Do not have the patience.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland. 

“Thank you, I do think I’ve been very brave.” Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest. 

“What’s that for?!”

You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. “You’ve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. I’m proud of you.”

You’re too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you. 

MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round he’s smart enough to not tell you. 

It’s the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend. 

There’s a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification. 

It’s Wonwoo’s (actual) girlfriend, and she’s sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwoo’s living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions. 

It’s a pillow fort.

Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husband’s living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while he’s actively meant to be available for office hours.

You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isn’t that you’re upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer he’d time them a little better. 

Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself. 

[You]: where are you

[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?

[You]: office hours?

[Mingyu]: mhm

[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house

You imagine him sending Wonwoo’s girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction. 

[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME

You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you won’t be tempted to look. 

Besides, it wasn’t long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling. 

“Whatever for?”

“For lying.” 

You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, “Might wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.”

Mingyu’s head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. “God.”

“Him too.”

In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where you’re sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown. 

“Rumour has it,” he starts. 

You make a face. “Now you’ve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.”

He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good. 

“That a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.”

Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming. 

“Take a hike, Kim.”

“...Sorry.”

NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone. 

Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest it’s been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you. 

The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes. 

“Well?” he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth. 

You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns. 

“For the record I didn’t want some of the questions on there,” he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. “Hard ones weren’t mine. I promise I’m not a sadist.”

Then, in an un-CCTV’d corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds you’ve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss. 

In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge you’d gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you. 

Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. There’s a smile on your face. “It went great.”

A strong tug against your waist and you’re suddenly pressed into Mingyu’s all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach. 

There wasn’t much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors. 

In true Mingyu fashion, he’s begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You haven’t been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time. 

It isn’t remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyu’s hands haven’t been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed. 

He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.

His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. It’s marvellous, even more so as you realise he won’t stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop. 

Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. You’re sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him. 

By the time he’s relented, you’re sure you won’t feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long. 

But as you’re finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasn’t exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man. 

Mingyu was beautiful either way. 

“Are you okay?” he asks you, his fingers tracing your features. 

The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there. 

“More than okay,” you mumble. 

“Good. Thought I lost you there.”

Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. “You’re not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devil’s module.”

“Is that all it takes? Make sure you don’t fail?”

“And give head like that.” It’s a half joke. “But also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.”

He mimics you between a breathy laugh, “Comma TA. Not anymore, I guess.”

“How happy are you?”

“Still have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.”

“The recommendation? You deserve it.”

“That, and not having to be in Dr. Cho’s presence every other day. And you.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Look at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.”

“Not just yet.”

“You’ll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.”

Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and there’s comfort in the air it penetrates.

“I only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.” He’s smiling. 

“Girlfriend duties,” you quote solemnly. 

“I mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didn’t wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.”

You cup his face and pout, “Oh, my damsel in distress.”

“Hm, my knight in shining armour,” he giggles. “Galloped in and saved me from myself.”

“You saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.” 

“I’ll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.” 

You can only grumble in mild annoyance. 

“I’m glad I asked you to come in early that day,” he says.

“I’m glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.” You grin.

Mingyu leans in and kisses you. It’s soft, slow, and drips of the romance he’s trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss. 

It’s almost scary how easily you’ve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly he’s placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. It’s terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting. 

But it’s true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyu’s limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know. 

“I think I might love you too.” 

[peterman-spideyparker]

Stolen Glances (College!Matt Murdock x College!Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I've been on a writing hiatus after feeling uninspired after a long while, and I think it's kind of helped reset my creative juices. I'm entering my busy season at work, so I don't know how much time I'll have for writing in the future, but I'm back to feeling more like myself. I figured one of the best ways to return to writing was with some College Matt! Enjoy! :)

Summary: Your best friend convinces you to go out with her to a bar to celebrate the start of spring break, and to your surprise, the night takes an unexpected turn for the better when your friend calls over two people she knows from her law classes—one of whom you just so happen to have a huge crush on.

Warnings: Flirting, swearing, reader nickname (not-name specific) drinking, kissing, getting caught in the rain, smut (oral-f!receiving, Matt's mouth being a menace, praise kink, Matt being a lil' tiny touch possessive, Matt lightly biting at Reader's shoulder, p in v protected sex, aftercare)

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, OFCs

Word Count: 6,084

“Stop staring,” Amy says as she sips her drink. 

“I’m not,” you murmur as you roll your beer bottle absentmindedly on the sticky bar counter of Josie’s. How Amy even got you out tonight is beyond you. You don’t go to bars. You’re not even a big fan of going out in general. But tonight, you caved, and followed her in the rain to a dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen for cheep beer, gossip, and people watching. And it’s people watching that lead your eyes to land on one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. Matt Murdock—enter frantically smitten swoon here. He’s a law student with a voice like honey, a smile that could light up a room, and the best ass in the entire world.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you had to stumble into the one that he was in.

“You are,” Amy counters. 

“Not.”

“Are.” 

“Fine,” you sigh. “Glancing. Let me have this.”

“He’s single, you know. Broke up with the girl he was dating all last year.”

“Which means he’s not looking for anyone.”

“Or he rebounds fast and wants to get under someone. Er, have someone get under him. Hell, I don’t know what he’s in to.”

“Ames.”

“What? I’m just speculating. Just like you are ogling him.”

“Again, not ogling. Glancing. Besides, he’s way out of my league. And you know what? This, right here, is a perfect situation for me—it’s a crowded bar, he’s blind, no one here knows me or cares about me and won’t think twice of me looking in that direction. This is the only time I can pine after someone and not get flustered and weird if he looks in my direction or watch Cindy from my Brontë’s class try to show off her cleavage to get his attention. And she totally would, event to the one guy that literally can’t see it. Which brings me back exactly to my point—he can’t see us here or the undoubtedly big heart shapes my eyes are in.”

“What if his friend does?”

“He has his back to us, he won’t—.”

“FOGGY!”

“You are a major asshole, you know that?” you hiss as you whip your head around to scowl at her.

“Well, now, you can glance up close, see the finer details. Maybe accidentally touch his big arms?” she says with an innocent smile and delightfully raised eyebrows. “Or something else big.”

“Be nice.”

“I’m always nice. Besides, they’re my friends. You survive Professor Murphy’s class together, you’re blood brothers for life—Hey, Fog! Murdock!”

“I didn’t know you guys came to Josie’s,” Foggy smiles as they get close enough to where the two of you sit. “If I had, I would’ve invited you to some of our post-test outings.”

“Well, Kitty here is a lightweight, so it’s not often I get to bring her to bars. I think I finally convinced her because it’s the Friday before spring break and she doesn’t have to do homework right this moment,” Amy hums. She so knows what she is doing, and you don’t know if you should kick her in the shins or be eternally grateful for how Matt turns his head to you next. 

“Kitty?” Matt smiles, and it makes your cheeks burn. He wets his lips lightly as he turns his body toward you, and you can’t help but duck your gaze and shrink in on yourself a bit. 

“An unfortunate nickname that has followed me since I was four and can’t seem to shake,” you explain. “Now that I’m not four, (Y/N) just fine.”

“It’s cute, though. Maybe you’ll tell me the story.”

Fuck, why’d he have to say it like that? You’d tell him absolutely anything he’d want if he spoke to you like that again.

“Maybe,” you breathe. “Maybe not.”

The smile he flashes you is soft, dreamy, and alluring. “Someday it is, then.”

“Why don’t you two take a seat with us?” Amy asks as she swallows the last of her drink. “Have a few rounds with us. I mean, you guys know me, but let’s include (Y/N) into the fold. Probably good that you two legal goobers befriend an English major. Help you guys avoid being duped in a contract or something because of semantics or syntax or something.”

“Offense,” Foggy scoffs.

“(Y/N)’s worst is still better than your best, and you know it.”

“Down, Ames,” you chuckle, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Remember what I said about being nice?”

“Amy? Nice?” Matt smirks. “I’m afraid we haven’t earned that privilege.”

“So, how long have you known Amy?” Foggy asks as he waves Josie over for another round. 

“Too long,” you chuckle, earning you a playful kick under the bar.

“Harsh,” Matt hums.

“For someone who’s basically my sister? Nah. We’ve been friends since we could toddle around,” Amy shrugs. “You two should understand that one—I mean, roommates for two years and essentially an identical course load? You’re as good as brothers.”

“Very true,” Foggy smiles as he opens his next beer. “I mean, sure, Matt got all the good looks, but I have the boyish wit and knack for sarcastic comments.”

“Seems like a pretty perfect pairing to me,” you add. 

Foggy claps Matt’s back with a big smile. “See that, pal? Even the people that just meet us can see we’re a perfect match! Murdock and Nelson, taking New York City law by storm! Rolling in the money, the biggest of the bigs wanting us on retainer!”

“A real life Harvey Spector and Mike Ross,” Amy says with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Take it from a blind man, Nelson and Murdock has a better ring to it,” Matt hums as he sips his beer. “And while money is nice, there’s still something really nice about saving the world.“

“Matty the Martyr,” he sighs. “You know, (Y/N), my parents wanted me to be a butcher.”

“Fog, please, not the butcher story!” Matt begs. 

“Yeah, please,” Amy seconds. “(Y/N) doesn’t need to hear it.”

“Ugh, tough crowd tonight,” he sighs. “You’ll hear about it, (Y/N) . . . someday.”

“Mildly ominous. Definitely non-threatening,” you grin before everyone starts to laugh. “So, what brings you guys out? Is this a post-test outing?”

“Nah, just a Friday night,” Matt smiles. 

“Well,” Amy says, holding up her new drink. “To just a Friday night.”

You all clink the necks of the bottles together before you drink, chatting briefly before Amy playfully insults Foggy’s pool playing skills. The two of them down their drinks before they make their way to the pool table to prove one another wrong.

“I don’t know how those two are friends, sometimes,” Matt chuckles. 

“Well, Amy has three brothers,” you hum. “She loves pushing people’s buttons like that.”

“And Foggy doesn’t back down from challenges like that. Although, I agree that Amy could wipe the floor with Fog at pool.”

You laugh, biting your lip from laughing too loud in the bar. “I won’t tell him you said that.”

“Eh,” he squeaks. “I think he knows where I stand on his pool skills. I mean, a blind guy can beat him.”

You feel your face grow hot with the attention he’s giving you, but it’s all very welcome as you both begin to chat about whatever comes to your minds. For how pretty he is and how flustered you get talking into to people you find attractive, conversation comes so easily with Matt. You feel like you could tell him anything. But that’s the dangerous thing—there’s no way this could work, as a friend or for whatever your brain could dream up. He’s too . . . magnetic. You’d misread something, and in the end, you’d be the one getting hurt. Besides, if you’ve learned anything from Amy, part of being an attorney is learning how to charm the pants off of whomever you’re talking to. And unfortunately for you, you’re just the girl at the bar he’s trying to schmooze only to never see again.

“(Y/N)?” he asks, trying to catch your attention.

“Hm?” you hum, snapping out of it. 

His face is soft, but definitely concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter. “I was just thinking of something.” 

He raises his eyebrows, silently asking if you want to talk about it, but a small pang in your chest makes you want to run away and hide in a corner. 

“I don’t think pool is supposed to take that long,” you say, changing the subject and craning your neck around the bar to try and spot your friends. “I have absolutely no idea where Amy went. It looks like Foggy’s gone, too.”

Matt lets out a small, breathy laugh with a knowing grin.

“Do you want to share the joke with the class?”

“Fog’s been on my case lately about meeting new people. I wouldn’t be surprised if he conspired with Amy.”

“You know, I’d say that’s impossible, but Amy is always trying to set me up and calling me Hermit Homebody.”

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like 'Kitty'.”

“It’s more alliterative, though.”

“So,” he hums, turning his body toward yours. “What’s the story behind Kitty?”

“You’re gonna judge.”

He holds out his pinky to you. “No judgement. Promise.”

You lick your lips before you move your hand to lock your pinky with his. 

“I really loved Hello Kitty when I was little. I basically wanted to be Hello Kitty. Like, absolutely obsessed—alarm clock, bedsheets, plushies, the whole shebang. I even dressed like Hello Kitty. Yellow shirt, blue overalls or an overall dress, and a red bow in my hair, and I had Hello Kitty socks to wear with my sneakers or little Mary Jane’s. It made getting dressed easy, but it definitely annoyed my mom after a bit.”

“That’s really cute.”

“It’s really not,” you chuckle.

“It is, trust me. And, if it makes you feel any better, a lot of free public domain braille texts were legal documents; after the accident that blinded me, that’s all my dad could really get me between hospital bills, trauma therapy and recovery, and our regular bills. I read a lot of Frederick Douglas while he did boxing practice. Between reading those and my dad’s hope for me to get a good job and use my brain instead of my fists, that’s what drove me to be a lawyer. I’m not sure I would have applied to law school if not for that.”

“Wow. That’s . . . amazing. Honestly.”

His brows furrow slightly as he tilts his head down slightly. “I like to think that I’m making him proud. But I’m afraid that I’ll end up letting him down eventually. He . . . He gave me so much, he gave up so much. For me.”

You place your hand on his that’s resting atop of the bar, giving it a squeeze. “The fact that you know the extent of your dad’s sacrifices and you’re worried about letting him down means that you couldn’t possibly disappoint him.”

Matt nods and you see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows hard. You could swear that you see a tear roll down his cheek, but you’re distracted when he turns his hand over to hold onto yours better, lacing his fingers in yours. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, taking a deep breath. “Hearing that . . . it means a lot.”

“It’s just the truth as I see it.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Matt hums as he turns his head toward you. “We could grab a bite, just walk around.”

“No ulterior motives?”

“Not unless you want me to have ulterior motives.”

You look at him, your heart beating so loudly in your chest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Okay,” he breathes. “Then no ulterior motives.”

“I’m not opposed to stopping at the soft pretzel cart that’s a few blocks over, though.”

He gives you a small smile.

“Something funny?”

“Beer and pretzels,” he hums. 

“Har har.”

“C’mon,” he says with a little jerk of his head. “Lead the way.”

Putting some money on the counter to cover your drinks, you slide off of the barstool, your hand still in Matt’s as he mimics your movement before unfurling his cane. You both walk in comfortable silence, recalling little anecdotes from your childhoods as you stroll along the route. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you laugh.

“I’m not,” he says with a big smile. “I got so much hell from the nuns for it. Father Lantom put on a little show and was a little mad about it, yeah, but the ‘talking to’ that he gave me was about the Yankees game. In fairness, I honestly did worse when I was younger—probably took years off of all of their lives. Probably still do, when they think too hard about it.”

“Gosh,” you say with another laugh. “You’re such a daredevil.”

“Hey, I’ve turned out just fine. For the most part.” 

“Yeah, you’ve got a point. You seem pretty alright.”

“Pretty alright?” he croons. “I’ll take it. Any pointers for how I can increase my ranking, though?”

“Well, if I told you, it’d be too easy,” you smirk as you approach your destination. “Heya, Boyd.”

“Kitty!” he beams. “Long time no see! You’re usual?”

“That’d be great. School’s been busy.”

“You know she’s in Columbia?” he starts to tell Matt. “Smartest girl I know.”

“She is amazing,” Matt says, and you feel your cheeks burn hot.

“Matt’s one of my classmates,” you explain. 

“Ah, so you’re a smart one, too. Kitty here is one of a kind—don’t do anything stupid to loose this one.”

“I’ll do my best not to,” he smiles.

“D’you want anything with yours?”

“Mustard, please.”

Boyd hands Matt his pretzel, but puts his hand up when you try to pay. 

“Not tonight, Kitty,” he says. “My treat.”

“Don’t be silly, Boyd,” you counter. “You know our rule, only on birthdays.”

“Yeah, but you included me on your date. I feel real special. All warm and fuzzy like.”

Your cheeks burn even hotter when he says “date”— you appreciate that Boyd thinks you’re in the same league. 

“Please?” you try.

“Alright. But you’re getting your change back. This one, she always tries to scurry away before I can give her her change back!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t escape,” Matt chuckles, his hand resting on your waist, the gentle touch sending goosebumps up your spine.

“Atta boy. You know, I like this one. He ain’t that bad. Here, Kitty. Have a nice night, you two!”

“Night, Boyd!” you smile. 

“Nice to meet you,” Matt adds. Once you’re out of earshot, he asks, “How come he can call you Kitty?”

“Because Boyd has known me since I was six,” I chuckle before I take another bite of my pretzel. “You’ve gotta earn it.”

“Oh, so now you’ll let me earn the chance to call you Kitty?”

“If you play your cards right.”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“You seem like the kind of guy that likes challenges.”

He grins and raises his eyebrows as if conceding to your point before taking a bite of is pretzel, licking up the mustard at the corner of his mouth. The absolutely obscene thoughts that cross your mind when he does that would even make a sinner in church blush—but also appreciate the sentiment. You finish your pretzels quickly, continue to walk aimlessly around and talk about whatever comes to your mind.

“Wow,” you hum as you look at a clock on the other side of the park we’re walking through.

“What?” he hums. 

“It’s almost three.”

“Seriously? No.” You feel Matt’s arms shift, and you watch his fingers slide over the face of his watch. “Shit. It’s almost three. I didn’t think we were talking for that long.”

“Me either. Not that I’m complaining about it.”

“Neither am I.”

“Maybe we’re just really slow walkers?”

Matt laughs. “It is a really nice night.”

There’s a comfortable silence before you speak next. “I don’t do this, normally. Go out—go out to a bar, no less—walk with guys aimlessly around the city.”

“Tell people the story of your nickname? Or bring them to meet your pretzel godfather?” he teases gently, and you chuckle softly and nod. 

“Definitely not either of those.” You take in a deep breath before you continue. “Something feels different tonight, though, and I like it. And I only started liking it when you and Foggy joined us at our table.”

“Yeah?” he says so softly you almost don’t hear it.

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I like it, too.”

Your gaits slow before Matt turns into you, a relaxed, dreamy look on his face. It’s not a face you’ve seen him flash the girls on campus—the cocky, over-confident swagger that’s usually there replaced with something almost dreamy and entirely genuine. Your heart starts to race as he leans in, but you both freeze in place when the sky opens up and you get caught in a sudden downpour. You squeak and he lets out a soft grunt before Matt hand grabs yours, and you rush toward the sidewalk. You raise your hand to wave down an oncoming taxi, and as you both slide in, Matt gives his address to the cabbie. 

The ride is short, but it’s definitely better than making the trip in the pouring rain. When the cabbie pulls to the curb, Matt hands him the fare and the tip, opening the door and sliding out first, waiting for you to follow. He uses his large frame to try and shield you from the rain as you run into the lobby of his dorm, tracking in puddles into the elevator. 

“Would Foggy mind if I crash here for the night? I mean, what’s left of it,” you ask, your arms hugging yourself as you shiver in front of his door. 

“You don’t need to worry about him. He’s staying with his family for the first half of break,” Matt says as he slides the key into the lock, leading you into the very nice dorm apartment. “It’s just us here.”

“Ah,” you hum softly, looking around the space. “I wish my dorm looked like this. I think I chose the wrong major.”

Matt chuckles softly as he moves about the space. “Well, each year we get better housing choices, and the ADA complaint dorms were updated a few years ago. Foggy just reaps the rewards of being my friend.”

“Well, it is very nice. Definitely decorated by boys, though.”

Matt chuckles softly, walking into what you assume is his room before coming back out in pajamas, a folded set of clothes in his extended hand. 

“Thanks,” you smile as you take the sweatshirt and sweatpants out of his hands.

“Can’t have you be chilly,” he hums. “Let’s face it—Amy would kill me if I let you catch a cold.”

“You, Foggy, and then me. In that order,” you laugh. “You know, I honestly thought it was done raining for the night.”

“I’m just glad we caught a cab. And that you let me pay.”

“Well, you gave them the address to your dorm. Seemed right that you foot the bill.”

Matt chuckles as you turn to side off your wet clothes and put on his fluffy sweater and sweats. Yes, it feels a little odd to change in front of him, but it’s not like he can see you in your underwear, and you need to get these wet clothes off. And if tonight has taught you anything, Matt is someone you feel comfortable and safe around.

“Let’s hope these dry by the morning,” you say, folding your soaked clothes and putting them over the stool in the kitchen area. 

“You can keep them as long as you need. Something tells me I’ll get them back eventually.”

You blush deeply. “In a timely manner. Promise.”

“I’m not gonna force you out when the sun comes up, you know,” Matt continues. “We can go down and throw your clothes into the dryer in the morning. Maybe go grab breakfast after they’re out.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Want to go to the living room?”

“No ulterior motives?” you smirk. 

He laughs, and you swear you just made him to blush. “No. Not unless you want there to be,” he responds. 

“I don’t think I’d be opposed to some.”

Matt slides off his glasses, placing them on the kitchen table. His eyes sparkle in the moonlight coming through the window, taking a half step forward and placing his hands on your waist. You lean in to help close the space between your bodies, and when his lips finally meet yours, you feel your heart skip a beat as electricity shoots through your veins. You slide your hands up his body to cradle is face as he pulls you in even closer. The kiss is passionate, tender, and everything that a kiss should be. When he pulls back, you’re breathless and dizzy in all the best ways. His forehead rests on yours, and you desperately wish he’d lean in for another kiss. 

“Are those acceptable motives?” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours.

“Mm,” you hum. “Very.”

He smiles, leaning in for another kiss, the force of the embrace knocking the back of your legs against the sofa. You pull him into you, knocking the pair of you down on the couch, his body crushing yours in the most glorious of ways for a moment until he can position himself better on the furniture. His hands have a firm grip on your body, sending wave after wave of chills up your spine as you chase his lips for more kisses. One of his large hands cradles the back of your head, holding you closer so he can gain better access to the kiss, and you realize his glasses aren’t perched on his face anymore. You don’t even know when he would’ve have a chance to take them off. But do you really care? 

No. No you don’t.

As you make out, Matt slides you onto his lap, giving you a bit more leverage as you embrace. You lips mirror one another’s, curving up into smiles. You take in a sharp breath as you feel his hands slide under the sweater and up your back, the simple action sending goosebumps up your spine. You moan into the embrace and lean forward to deepen it, accidentally nipping his lower lip between yours. It elicits a strong response from Matt, his fingers digging into your skin, sure to leave little bruises as souvenirs before moving up to tug at the hair at the nape of your neck. His fingers should have their own insurance policy, because wherever they trace on your body feels like a million dollars—the warmth, the strength, the grip—goes straight to the apex of your thighs. Firm, relaxing, and downright sinful.

You pull back from the kiss, Matt’s swollen lips chasing yours as you lean away, turning your head to yawn. 

“Am I putting you to sleep, sweetheart?” he smirks, softly kissing your neck before moving so his face points toward yours. 

“You’re definitely relaxing me, that’s for sure,” you tell him as you look back at his face. “It’s just been a really long week.”

“We can stop if you want.”

“You stop, and I’m telling Amy and Foggy.”

“Oh, well, we can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t.”

With more smiles, you lean back into the kiss. Matt’s grip is firm on your waist before sliding his hands down and over the globes of your ass, moving to your upper thighs before lifting you up. You’re too focused on his lips to try and watch where he’s taking you, even though you have a good idea. You moan into his mouth as you feel Matt lay you down on his mattress.

“At least if you get a little too tired to keep going, you can fall asleep in a bed,” he whispers before he starts to kiss your neck.

“So kind of you.”

“I try.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Can I keep going?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

Matt flashes you a devilish grin before leaning back in, his hands sliding up under the borrowed sweatshirt tracing the curves of your body.

“You can take it off, you know,” you murmur against his lips. “It’s your shirt, after all.”

He hums in delight, doing as you ask and ridding the fabric from your body and pushing it to the side. “You’re chilly now,” he hums kissing all over the exposed skin, pulling soft moans from your throat. 

It’s your turn to slither your hands up against his rock-hard body under his clothes, lightly raking your fingernails along his skin. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“Then show me.”

Matt’s lips slot back over yours, tasting every ounce of your mouth that he can. He pulls back, whipping his shirt off. You’re unable to prevent your jaw from dropping when you see his exposed chest, a little wooden cross hanging from a cord around his neck a strong contrast from his fair skin and rippling muscles. It doesn’t hang too long, the space between the two of you closed just as swiftly as it was created before his hands deftly undoes your bra. Matt’s hands slide the straps down your arms, tossing it to the side before his large hands palm at the fleshy mounds, his hips inadvertently beginning to roll against your legs. 

“Mm,” you hum as you start to mark his neck. “I’d say we’re moving fast, but, I like where we’re moving. Seems like you do, too.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Let me lay you down and make you feel good, angel.”

“Mm, ‘angel’,” you smirk as you pull him on top of you. “Sounds better than ‘Kitty’. Better not be calling any other girls that.”

“It’ll be just for you. Swear.”

“Good.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna try and stop earning the right to call you Kitty, though.”

“Consider it earned. Can even call me Kitten. Now, please tell me you have some condoms here.”

“Mm, I do. But, the thing is, that pretzel left me hungry, angel. I need to eat a little more.”

Your brows furrow before Matt holds your face in his hands, kissing you deeply. He trails his kisses down the column of your neck, moving lower with each embrace, down your chest and torso until his lips reach where your skin and his sweatpants meet. 

“Is it okay if I pull these down, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing feather-soft kisses on your stomach. “Can I kiss you there? Can I taste you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathe a little too quickly, moving your fingers into his soft hair. “Please.”

He smiles, kissing your belly button before curling his fingers round the waistband of the sweats and underwear and sliding them down your legs. His strong hands gently part your legs, exposing yourself to him, his soft, pouty lips kissing back and forth along your inner thighs until his nose brushes the slick folds. A soft moan escapes your throat, so quiet that you almost don’t hear it. As soon as it leaves your lips, you swear you hear Matt growl a little before diving in between your legs. This time, you moan louder, your back arching off of the bed and your fingers clutching the sheets. 

“Matt!” you squeak. His hands are firm on your hips, keeping his face buried in your core, tasting and savoring you like you’re the sweetest of desserts. Your chest heaves as you squirm against him, but each movement of your body only spurs him on to hold you tighter. He hums into your pussy, the vibrations working all the way up your body. 

“M-Matt,” you stutter, feeling yourself get wound tightly as he works diligently between your legs. “Matt, I—oh, fuck!”

Matt just hums, keeping pace and enjoying the taste of you on his tongue. You continue to whimper, whine, and squirm, biting your lip harder as you get closer to your release. You suck in a sharp breath when you feel Matt pull away from you, his face in your direction, his mouth and chin shiny with your slick.

“Don’t hold back, angel. I’ve got you,” he pants. “Make those pretty noises for me. It’s just you and me, okay? Don’t worry about if anyone else can hear. It’s just you and me.”

“Okay,” you say breathily with a frantic nod. “Okay.”

“Good girl.”

You could cum with those two words, and the quick twitch at the corner of his mouth tells me that he knows it, too. With a lick of his lips, he dives back down without missing a beat, sliding two thick fingers into you, gently pumping them and curling his fingers to squish against the perfect spot that makes your vision go spotty. You let out your loudest cry of the night, the sheer volume hurting your throat a little. It elicits a deep growl from Matt, and with one more lick, you’re quaking and unraveling on his face. Little tremors continue to jolt through your body as Matt works to lick up every last drop of you before pressing a soft kiss on your swollen nub and kissing his way back up your body. 

You lean up and crash your lips into his, desperate for him. Matt eagerly kisses you back, letting you taste yourself, exploring how you mix with him. 

“Are you up for more?” he pants as he pulls back, trying to smooth down your tousled hair. 

“Please,” you say, the faintest hint of a whine in your voice. “I’m ready.”

Matt smiles, pecking your lips quickly before leaning back and taking his sweats off. Your eyes involuntarily widen when you see just how big he is. If tonight with Matt hasn’t ruined other men for you yet, the feeling of him inside you and how it will undoubtedly linger for days will.

“You okay?” he pants as he works to slide on the condom.

“I’m doing great,” you swallow, trying to remain coherent through the bliss. 

His laugh is like warm tea with honey.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

With the condom firmly on, he leans forward to kiss you slowly. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Matt kisses you again, adjusting the pillows behind you as he lines himself up with your entrance. He places his hands on you gently, forehead resting on yours, before carefully starting to slide in. You bite your lip as your eyes flutter shut, your head suddenly becoming too heavy as you let it roll to the side and rest against his neck. 

“Matt,” you breathe.

“Prefect,” he pants as he slowly pushes forward. “Perfect.”

“M-Matt,” you whimper as you stretch around him. “Big.”

“Do you need me to stop?” he whispers. “Does it hurt?”

“N-No. ’s great. So great.”

“Say the word if you need me to stop, okay? If it’s too much?”

“Okay.”

Your faces turn toward one another, and for the briefest of moments, Matt’s eyes lock onto yours. You feel your heart skip a beat and jump up right into your throat. This is ridiculous—tonight is the first time you’ve actually met him rather than stare at him and wish from a distance, and it’s like your entire universe is on its head. Matt tenderly leans forward, his lips on yours, fueled with a softer passion than what has dictated your embraces for the night. The roll of his hips is slow, and you feel everything ten times over. You hold onto Matt as if your life depends on it, and you let him work as he marks up your neck and shoulder with little bites. 

“Don’t stop,” you plea. “Don’t stop. Matt, please don’t stop!”

Your pleas and whimpers spur Matt to pick up his pace. As he does so, his own soft moans grow louder in your ear, and it drives you wild. The springs of the mattress move from a quiet creak to an all consuming squeak, perfectly punctuated by the headboard hitting the wall.

“Matt!” you cry out, pulling probably harder than you should at his hair. 

“Such a good pussy,” he grunts. “All for me. You’re so good for me, angel. Feel so perfect.”

“Please!”

“Hm?”

“Fuck, Matt! You’re—oooohhhh!”

“Perfect f’me, angel. Such a good girl. My good girl.”

The sound of your slapping skin adds to the erotic symphony in the room, sweat quickly lining your bodies. You whimper as you nuzzle into him, muttering incoherent sentences as his pelvis rubs against your sensitive core, building you up to knock you over with intense pleasure. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders and pull a deep growl from the back of his throat. He nips at the sensitive skin behind your ear before slotting his lips over yours.

“Matt,” you whimper, really drawing out the vowel in his name. “Matt, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Let it out,” he encourages. “Cum for me. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good. Let me hear you, angel.”

Matt kisses the sweet spot on your neck and pulls a needy whine from you. A stuttered whine pulls from your lips as your eyes pinch shut and you claw your fingers into Matt’s back. You cry out at the top of your lungs as a second wave of pleasure washes over you. With Matt in you, dragging against every right spot, it feels so much better than with his mouth. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, and you cry out in pleasure even louder. The pace of Matt’s hips move even faster, albeit at a more unsteady rhythm with an increased sense of urgency as he tries to soothe the sting of his teeth. His moans turn into grunts, a delight to your ears. 

“Harder,” you beg. “Harder, Matt.”

You feel Matt nod his head against yours, doing as you ask, his lips brushing faint kisses against your cheek. You cry out once more, Matt’s hips pulling one more orgasm from you as he hits his high, spilling into his condom with punctuated thrusts.

Your breathing is heavy as your bodies still, sweat clinging to your skin and soaking the sheets. You chuckle softly as Matt places gentle kisses along your neck, his nose tickling you just so before pulling himself off of you and sliding out. He does it slowly, and you moan softly from the sensitivity and the loss of him. He ties off the condom, shuffling out of bed to throw it away. Matt briefly rounds the corner, coming back with a towel in hand. Without a single word, he carefully spreads your legs, gently cleaning the mess between your thighs. His lips softly kiss your knees and thighs has he works, and you can’t help but smile. He tosses the cloth to the side, it landing perfectly on the edge of his hamper. Matt slides back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and letting you adjust in his hold, kissing your forehead.

“What?” he whispers so softly you want to melt.

“You have freckles,” you whisper back just as quietly as you look up at him. “They’re a little hard to see, but they’re there.”

“Yeah?” he says with a tender smile.

“Mm.” Carefully, you move your fingers against the skin on his cheek, tracing over the faint constellation on his fair skin. 

“What?” he whispers again with a little smirk. 

“How do you know I’m thinking?”

“Call it a hunch.”

You smile softly. “It’s just . . . I wasn’t planning on coming out tonight. I don’t go out. I don’t go to bars. I don’t do this. Any of this.”

“I think you mentioned that earlier,” he hums with a cheeky smile. God, his voice is like a warm blanket that you just want to snuggle up in. 

“It just felt right, with you. I’m really glad I came out tonight.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?” You give him a hum in response. He pulls you closer and presses a long, slow kiss to your lips. “I’m really, really glad you came out, too.”

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[moonchild1]

min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅵ)

she's back bet you didn't think i'd post another list this quick but since they've been building so much i figured why not soooo this week is yoongs and next week with be taehyung i've been reading alot lately so i wanted to share them asap so before my week gets hectic again i thought i'd post it, i honestly loved these ones i am exploring a little bit for with certain genres and i must say it like a whole new world i'm enjoying it and i hope you like them too. remember too always show lots of love and support to these amazing writers they dedicated so much time to writing these fics and they are absolute geniuses and deserve the world for sharing them with us so please follow them and take a look at their masterlists cause i will 100% guarantee that you will find your very own favourites there as well, leave the a little comment i know they will appreciate it so much and send them all the love in the world... i will reblog these through out the week and as usual minors do not interact i will block those who do.... happy reading everyone see you next week with taehyung's list and if you have anything you would like to share with me or you just wanna ramble about a fic you loved my asks are always open i love hearing from you🖤✨

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

stalemate by @shina913 f s a

↬"The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."

oh, my darling by @yoongiofmine f s a

↬ starting your second semester at one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you've held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that you’re forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isn’t as one sided as you thought?

little bit of your heart by @/yoongiofmine f s a ft. jjk

↬You had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with Min Yoongi. You knew you and Yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything Yoongi couldn’t. Will Jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten Yoongi enough to do something about it? 

sinful lust by @oddinary4bts s a ft. jjk

↬ in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...

after hours by @archivedkookie f s a

↬ staying after hours with Yoongi for months proves to be a mistake when your heart falls for him.

Vows by @hamsterclaw f s a

↬ You're five years into your arranged marriage with Min Yoongi, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.

sutures by @farfromsugafanfic f s a

↬ There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

and so it goes by @prodagustd f s a

↬ You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it.

collateral by @theharrowing f s a ft. jjk & knj

↬ Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

till death do us part by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Marital bliss isn't always a guarantee, especially when you find yourself marrying into the family responsible for your own family's demise. Sometimes, marriage is just a game of kill or be killed. Even when there is love involved, bullets still hurt.

grey area by @blushoseoks s a ft. jhs

↬ you spent the days staring at your wrist and tracing the skin where your soulmate’s name would one day appear. the nights were for telling your wrist about your day, as if the person whose name would one day stain itself there, like red wine to a dress, could possibly hear you. for years you thought up countless scenarios, imagined numerous possibilities, formulated conversations and rehearsed them over and over, until your mouth ran dry. outcomes and conclusions performed in your head on a repetitive loop. but out of everything you thought up, out of all of the time spent towards thinking about your soulmate, about what could possibly occur, none of it could ever prepare you for what would actually end up being. none of it ever came close to the way it happened when you finally met him. and now, after it’s all been said and done, you were left asking yourself one thing, and one thing only: “was it really worth all of this in the end?”

isn't it romantic by @jeonqkooks f s a

↬ Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

Flux by @yoonia f s a ft. jjk

↬ One of them is your longtime secret crush, while the other is the man with whom you had shared many heated nights filled with lust and forbidden desire, forever kept as your biggest secret of all time. You had sworn that those sinful nights would end, and that your secret crush would remain a secret. (poly au)

mean yoongi by @jjkpls f s

↬ Min Yoongi asks you to take care of his plants when he’s gone. It doesn’t go as planned and well, he has to deal with your misbehaving ass.

pretend by @gimmesumsuga s a

↬ “You know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?” idol au infidelity

naughty little kitten by @jungkooksxo s a ft ksj

↬ Jin figures out that you’re super into the idea of Yoongi listening in on you two having sex. Yoongi is super into listening to you and Jin having sex. Jin invites Yoongi to come play with his naughty little kitten.

babydoll by @jungcock s a

↬ Your childhood crush, now famous and successful, comes to visit you while you’re drunk and have a lot to prove.

eleven months by @bratkook f s a

↬ it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what's coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

pause by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

darksided by @eoieopda f s a

↬ It all started with a bad joke and a bottle of Tanqueray.

three squeezes by @nomnomsik s a ft jhs

↬ Yoongi is notorious for his grumpy and emotionless behavior as director of an upcoming company. Yet, it’s a mystery to everyone how manager Hoseok always seems to soften him up. The truth is that the two are actually engaged. Unknown to this fact, you happen to take an interest in Hoseok… and he does too. 

one-shot

bad decisions by @jjungkookislife f s

↬ Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. He’ll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin?  

breakfast in bed by @joonbird f s

↬ “Min Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee, is wondering who you are and why exactly you’re sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea.”

Tricks of the Trade by @stutterfly f s a

↬ The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.

threads by @yoonia s a ft. knj

 ↬ Life is full of surprises, just like how people are full of secrets. Just when you had thought you have been lucky enough to have your life figured out, life decides to throw you a curve ball when you least expect it. And there is nothing you could do to avoid it, except to hope that you could hold your secrets as tightly as you possibly could before everything blows up into smithereens.

under the willow tree by @orchidyoonkook f a

↬ The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?

mami by kithtaehyung s ft. knj

↬ you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date.

the devil wears valentino by @orchidyoonkook f s a

↬ Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 

angel by @sailoryooons f s

↬ Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences

a boy like you by @cinnaminsvga f

↬ for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you. {or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

last nite by @tayegi s a

↬ This is a zombie apocalypse AU based on The Walking Dead, The Stand, World War Z, and elements of Attack of Titan

zombie bites by @luffles424 f s a

↬ Your friends have always been willing to assist you when you need a model to practice makeup on. And with the upcoming zombie film on campus is no difference. But something feels different this time, can a zombie movie be more than just a zombie movie? 

heaven's winter by @jksangelic f s a

↬ your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.

heavy sugar by @kinktae s

↬ The Roaring Twenties were a time of great economic wealth and social change. But beneath the jazz music and colorful speakeasies were mafia led organized crimes and bloodstained cash. You knew this well, but try as you might, you just couldn’t ignore the dark and enigmatic gangster whose eyes lingered on you from across the room.

all that holly, jolly shit by @daechwitatamic f s

↬You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

calling the shots by @chans-room f

↬ College basketball captain Yoongi

until death by @kpopfanfictrash s a

↬ Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan.  When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds you’ve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.

whatta catch by @aredheadedmess f a

↬ One, two, three strikes you’re out. When opposing opinions find you roughing it up with the university’s star pitcher, he makes it his mission to show that you’re wrong about college sports—and maybe your feelings about the player himself.

shatter me, embrace me by @95rkives s

↬you longed for him, yearning for love, yet all that awaited you was heartbreak.

you're losing me by @/archivedkookie a

↬ ❝ He’s losing you, and yet, he lets the flower die in front of his eyes instead of doing everything to save it. Alternatively, Yoongi and you are losing your love toward each other. ��

spotlight by @back2bluesidex f a

↬ No matter how much you run away from Yoongi, Yoongi always comes right back to you.

all the wrong places by @mrworldwideshoulders f a

↬ After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.

now we reign by @/oddinary4bts f s a

↬ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

stay by sugarwithtea f s a

↬ what happens when you get stranded in a remote town with no place to live except for a lodge owned by a dangerously handsome but annoying man? yeah, a lot.

when the stars align by @itskimtaehyung f

↬ With cuffing season approaching its end, you thought you had escaped the pressures of finding a boyfriend for the holidays. That is, until your friends set you up on a blind date that goes horribly wrong. This prompts you to enlist the help of your roommate, Yoongi, to fake a relationship so your friends will stop meddling in your love life. And it turns out Yoongi is a lot better at this romance thing than you originally thought...

egotstic by @pasteljeon s a ft. knj

↬ The timing was never right. He loved you when you were kids, knees scraped and cheeks red. You loved him when pimples bloomed across his skin, voice cracking and he found solace in the scribbled lines in his notebook. The stars never seemed to align for the two of you, but perhaps it was because you were meant for someone else.

on the court by @centerhaechan f

↬ As captain of your school's winning women's basketball team, it is only understood that you despise the men's basketball team and their captain. Your main rival, Min Yoongi, enjoys testing your patience while he attempts to lead his own team to a championship victory. Your coaches believe you both have problems with teamwork, and insist that working together will produce a promising solution.

sugar by @zehakoo f s

↬ desperately in need of sugar to make coffee in order to ease down your headache, you find yourself knocking on a strangers door who happens to be your best friend’s friend and the finest man you’ve ever encountered.

from the ashes by @fortunexkookie s a

↬ Someone is sobbing ugly, wrecked sounds that shatter the silence in the room. You need them to stop; it’s distracting and you need to focus. You need to clean the ash from his skin. You need to comb the knots from his hair. You need to dress his beautiful body in something befitting the king you know he is… but the sobbing is too loud, and your vision is blurry. It takes Yoongi wiping your tears away for you to realize that the gasping cries echoing off the stone are coming from you.

the dark by @/bratkook s

↬ your small town thrives on the occult, luring tourists in with endless themed festivities, but the only place you’re determined to see is the mysterious club that comes to life the week before Halloween. what makes The Dark so exclusive, and what secrets are they hiding behind closed doors?

Triplicity by @kainks ft. jhs

↬ Distance is a cruel thing, and when you find yourself going astray, they are there to help remind you of just where exactly you belong.

fermata by @jeongi f s

↬ fer·ma·ta: from fermare, it means to stay or to stop. min yoongi teaches you exactly how to let go.

private lessons by @dntaewithluv f s

↬ Your little sister finds it odd how you’ve been taking private lessons from her piano teacher for over a month now, but she hasn’t heard you actually play even once…

first love by @geniuslab f s a

↬You learn a lot of new things in your first year of university, including what it feels like to fall in love.

↬looking for other myg fics or the other bts members check out my library

[10yrratiolover]

giving my thoughts and ideas on Ratio's character stories

I wouldn't call this much of an analysis but we'll see how it goes

Starting out with his first character story, most of it is Professor Rond's recommendation letter.

I'd like to start by sharing my thoughts about Ratio and Rond first before actually getting into dissecting the letter itself.

So, firstly, I'd like to mention that (to my knowledge) we have never heard of or from Ratio's parents. I find that ironic considering what a big shot he is, I doubt that his parents would ever willingly shut up about their son.

Reading that Rond had a 'significant influence on Ratio's upbringing' particularly stands out to me because, at least at the time of the original letter being written, Ratio was in secondary school (Grade 9-12, though some of the wording in the letter lead me to believe he was likely on the lower end of that range).

Now, a high school teacher having a 'significant influence' on someone's upbringing isn't necessarily uncommon, nor are old teachers proud of their past students becoming extremely successful. However these points, alongside the fact that Ratio's parents are nowhere to be seen in canon, lead me to believe that there was some sort of familial relationship between them, especially seeing Rond's reaction to being asked about Ratio as well as how he had kept the original letter.

Moving on to the actual letter.

Grade skipping is a pretty common practice where I'm from, as it allows learning at the appropriate/needed level (ignoring the fact that the school system is in shambles).

However, the way this is phrased is as if Rond were trying to convince him to be able to skip grades. If he were in grade 11 or 12 I feel like it would not have been phrased this way, which is what leads me to believe he was likely younger, possibly fresh out of middle school.

The highlight on creativity is just because it makes me smile honestly, also it ties into one of my earlier posts about how I think Ratio would adore the subject of art.

I would like to return to my point of Rond being a potential parental figure to Ratio, seeing as he seems to know his daily routine well enough to confidently write about it in his letter of recommendation.

On to his second character story, which is mostly online posts in a thread-like format.

It wasn't until his eighth doctoral degree that he was awarded with First Class Honors, also since he is the first person to receive such in two amber eras it means he was likely the only one on stage at that time.

It also states that at the time he was already a prominent figure in society, which doesn't surprise me given the accomplishments listed by Rond in the letter despite him being in high school at the time it was written. However, he would most likely be an adult by the time he finished his eighth doctorate.

No real comment on this I found it funny that they put etc instead of continuing to list fields.

I also just find these funny and wanted to share them, but the disagreement on the last comment shows how much people admire him. I feel like that's a topic that's rather watered down in the fandom, but people genuinely admire Ratio a lot and there's plenty of reason for them to.

full-time university teachers tend to teach about 5 courses per academic year, meaning Ratio has been teaching for about 10 years.

Moving onto the third story, which is a statement from a former assistant of his about his desire to join the genius society.

I find this to be an interesting point, it seems like joining the Genius Society would be an obvious next step for a man with so many accomplishments but it's stated not once, but twice that he has never spoken about the subject (to the public at least).

I am a believer in the theory that Ratio hasn't been allowed into the Genius Society due to his humanity/compassion and his desire to spread knowledge to everyone, and I feel like this specification that he's never spoken about the topic could add to this theory.

This paragraph never fails to break my heart, but I do want to talk about the mention of an anti-planetary weapon. I feel like this Anti-planetary weapon that he spent years perfecting was a final attempt at proving to Nous that he wasn't too compassionate or too humane to receive their gaze. I remember reading about this idea more in detail elsewhere and if I can find the analyzation then I'll link it here.

Also, I feel like deep down he always knew that he wouldn't be accepted into the Genius Society, but this day, as Margaret states, was the day he finally realized it, or, fully swallowed that pill.

I find these comments to be interesting as well since they specify the narrow-mindedness of the society however, there is this comment from the Data Bank;

This comment I admittedly stumbled across when looking for something else, but I feel like it perfectly encapsulates Ratio's entire dilemma with the Genius Society, maybe not to Ratio himself but it certainly applies to everyone who comments on his achievements being worthy of Nous' approval.

I am also quite curious about who exactly wrote the 'Decoding Dr. Ratio' that we have read from in all of his character stories. They seem to have a lot of connections for someone who would typically be seen as just another paparazzi or media interviewer, I'm surprised the people listed in his stories would agree to an interview.

Onto his final story, which is about his personality and methods of sharing knowledge.

I mentioned this comment in my character notes post but I find it extremely charming that Ratio remains the same and refuses to change himself or his personality to satisfy those around him.

It is also commented in his second character story by a previous professor of his that his honesty and straightforwardness were a 'Breath of fresh air' at the University.

I love the implication that either; nobody in the entire room had any questions (unlikely), or that they were simply too scared to ask them.

I also find the comment that 'Whenever someone agrees with me, I feel like I must be wrong.' Perhaps he's gotten used to being the only one thinking the way he is or the possibility that people only agree with him so they sound intelligent themselves and weren't truly listening or understanding.

I find these comments interesting as well, a majority of the fandom mischaracterizes Ratio as mean or rude although he literally explains his viewpoints where anyone can access it (which does honestly prove his point about how knowledge is not for everyone.)

[jasonswh0rre]

The Psychological Analysis of Jason Todd

I am a psych major, and my professor is allowing us to make an analysis of any character of our choice, so I figured who better to write then Jason Todd. This was very fun to write and I very much enjoyed rewatching Batman: Arkham Knight. Please enjoy. ☁️ Warning(s): Trigger Warning for Trauma, Mental Health Content, Violence, Graphic Imagery, Spoiler(s)☁️ Word Count: 2.6k ☁️: Authors Note: I am working on fanfics, more headcanons for Arkham Jason, unfortunately I am busy with classes, assignments and deadlines. I will try to be punctual but it may take time. Thank you for your understanding.

Introduction 

Jason Todd is the secondary villain in Batman: Arkham Knight, which has the same moniker. He is the second Robin and Bruce Wayne's adoptive son.

Jason Peter Todd was born in the slums of Gotham City to two drug-addicted parents, who would eventually try to settle a debt they had by giving Jason away when he was a baby. Jason received no parental figure to help guide him, leading him to petty crimes such as theft to nourish his survival. Jason is a character who takes what he needs if it means prolonging his survival; his lack of a parental figure leads him to an identity crisis between longing for a parental figure and convincing himself he is better off without one. When the simple truth is that every human needs a mother and a father, we respond positively to a nurturing environment, and through early adolescence, our brains crave the structure needed to build us into well-rounded adults. 

At fifteen, Jason inadvertently met Batman while committing robbery when Batman was fighting Gotham's notorious supervillain, The Joker. Believing Batman is in trouble, Jason jumps between pushing the hero from harm's way. Despite life's misfortunes, Jason possesses a remarkable code of morality enough to want to save someone. Jason, attempting to rid Joker of his breath, aims a pistol at the clown and, before firing, is knocked out of his hands by Batman's batarang. Unfortunately for him, Joker would leave Jason with a cryptic message, one for the young man to head.

Jason would later be apprehended and taken into custody in the back of a police car by Batman after Batman retrieved his gun and stolen money. However, rather than being charged, Jason receives a blessing through a Wayne Industries project that helped troubled teens; through the program, Jason was able to turn his life around. All attract the man who helped Jason find a new purpose: Bruce Wayne. Months after being released, Batman appeared in Jason's dorm, again offering Jason another opportunity. 

2nd Robin and Kidnapping

Taking Jason in as his ward as well as dubbing him Robin after Dick Grayson, Jason sought justice and enjoyed being a hero. Like the previous Robin, he showed a keen aptitude for it; unlike his predecessor, he possessed a fiery temper and willingness for more lethal force. While Jason's temper is directed towards the criminals that harm the innocents, Batman views this as inexcusable, fearing the day that Jason will kill instead of reprimanding. 

In the most twisted sense of irony, Jason's morality inevitably becomes his downfall. The Joker has blown up a school with kindergarteners; this leads to Jason's resolve that Joker needs to die. Knowing that Bruce would try to stop him, Jason abandons his comms and tracker so he can kill Joker. However, it is a trap, and Joker ambushes Jason. Jason was kept in a wheelchair, bonded by barbed wire that kept Jason leaning hunched over in excruciating pain. Throughout his pain, Jason's mind remained still; he was confident that Batman would find him; his sheer will at the beginning of his torture is, with all honesty, remarkable as Joker has been known for his mental abuse and mind games he plays with his victims including his sidekick, Harley Quinn. 

In the six months of his torture, Jason's unwavering mental resolve was slowly crippling as Joker had wanted; throughout the game, Jason's voice mixed with crippling fear and small doubts about Batman coming. The Joker feeds into his doubts by showing him a photo of Batman with his replacement, Tim Drake. This leaves Jason troubled as he slowly loses hope for Batman. 

The last act of Jason's torture involved a video sent to Batman via The Joker of Jason, who has undergone all his brainwashing; in the video, Jason is sitting down in a chair; he is not chained, barbed, handcuffed, or kept sitting still in any way by all means Jason could easily walk away. This is a significant and crucial part of Jason's torture as it symbolizes just how much mental anguish and emotional exhaustion Jason went through to the point that he no longer had a yearning for freedom—making him downright timid and submissive towards Joker enough to out Batman's identity when asked by the latter. This results in Joker shooting Jason point-blank in the chest, as Joker "never could stand a tattletale." However, this was only a ploy to make Batman believe Jason is genuinely dead.

On the contrary, Jason was kept alive for another year, endeavoring more torture, mistreatment, and malnourishment. Harley Quinn did the final touches of Jason's emotional and mental brainwashing; a former psychiatrist who manipulated Jason into believing that Batman was the cause of his anguish and his pain was his doing; she did this long enough, even punishing Jason by waterboarding him and electrocuting him when he refused to say Batman, indicating he still had some level of awareness of who was torturing him. 

However, once Harley could get Jason to say Batman's name, Jason was drugged and beaten by two prisoners dressed like Batman; he was given a gun by The Joker and was ordered to kill them. Jason's resolve and humanity were a cord, still entrenched in him before Harley convinced him further, snapping his humanity and getting him to shoot the two dressed-up prisoners dead.

During the riots of Arkham Asylum, The Joker paid mercenary Deathstroke to keep Jason there and shoot him if he escaped. However, Jason convinces Deathstroke that Joker will not keep his promise and that if he helps, Jason will triple whatever Joker plans to pay. Accepting the offer, Deathstroke assists Jason in escaping, stealing a helicopter, and flying to Wayne Industries. Jason steals millions of dollars from his former guardian. Ironically, crossing paths with Tim Drake, who assumes Todd to be Deathstroke's sidekick, when Jason's ankle is caught between Tim's grappling hook, Jason cuts the cord, allowing Tim to fall when suggested by Deathstroke that killing Robin would bode well for them with the Dark Knight. Jason Coldy says that if he dies in a fall like that, Batman needs to pick his sidekicks better. 

Jason's psyche has been torn and scattered, leaving him a hollowed carving with a mocking J branding etched onto his face, from birth his eyes were already met with darkness, born to parents who never showed him recognition, let alone love, and through the Wayne Industries Project and his adoption by Bruce his eyes were wide, and remarkably hopeful, to be free of the weight of Gotham's misfortunes finally; those eyes that looked with gleam forced shut until he saw nothing but blackness.

Arkham Knight's Birth

Jason adopts a new persona built on the pain and suffering in the wake of his escape from Joker. He feels betrayed by the one person he only had in the world and wants vengeance. Jason works alongside Scarecrow, one of Batman's enemies. The two begin a plan on Halloween to take Gotham and Batman's legacy along with it. Jason gathers all Batman's enemies to join, assembling a militia with Deathstroke. While working with each other, Scarecrow "tests" his fear toxin on the young man, sending him on a psychological spiral. One of his more apparent fears is the Joker, who can be found near, in the background, or standing right in front of him laughing and mocking him, but beyond the clown prince of crime's appearance, Jason also sees his replacement, Tim Drake, and "fights" him.

The fight has Jason severely outnumbered in the beginning, with Tim succeeding, even using his staff to choke Jason, forcing him to the ground as the Jokers around him laugh. Further into the fear toxin, Jason appears in front of Wayne Manor, where he throws down his helmet and says the following: "Someplace warm, someplace safe, someplace where I'm needed, someplace where I'm loved," Joker once again appears in front of him laughing and mocking him on whether he even deserves it, this is Jason's internal struggle in a manifested form of the person who caused him harm, of the person who convinced him from the start that he was alone and would not be saved. Jason is mischaracterized as always being angry or standoffish, but anger has more truth than any lie detector can scoop. Jason feels this anger is not just because of some personality trait; anger is his cry out, and he's shouting to be seen and loved. This is most likely due to being tortured at 15 or so, which, despite the fact that at the time of Arkham Knight, he was in his early 20s, his mental age was regressed to the age when he was captured. This makes Jason appear at first glance as someone emotional, cocky, and arrogant. He values safety and love; he doesn't want to be on his guard 24/7, but he's grown up in an environment where letting your guard down gets you killed. He follows Joker into Wayne Manor, where he sees Bruce; suddenly, several versions of Batman appear in the room. They beat him and told him they never wanted a partner or even a son. This is a conflict that has always waged war in Jason's mind. Jason's biological father attempted to give him up and then belittled him when he explained that Jason's worth was so low that he couldn't even leave him; he has low self-esteem that he internalizes into rage in the way that he fights to prove his strength. 

This is why Jason has a strong attachment to Bruce/Batman it maybe due to an underlying desire to seek his approval especially by the time when he adopts him. Bruce gives him everything he could ask for and anything he could think of, and Batman gives him a purpose. Ironically, this is still the case despite Bruce himself having an avoidant attachment style. 

Conclusion and Diagnosis

Jason Todd's character in "Batman: Arkham Knight" exhibits a complex interplay of psychological factors that align with the diagnostic criteria for Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). One prominent feature of BPD is emotional dysregulation, characterized by intense and rapidly shifting emotions. Jason displays various emotions throughout the game, from anger and hostility to vulnerability and despair. His reactions often appear exaggerated or disproportionate to the situation, indicating difficulty regulating his emotional responses.

Furthermore, Jason's sense of identity is notably unstable, which is another hallmark feature of BPD. Having grown up in a dysfunctional environment with absent parents, Jason lacks a stable sense of self and struggles to define his identity. This is evident in his adoption of various personas, including Robin, the Arkham Knight, and, later, the Red Hood. His shifting identities reflect a profound inner conflict and a desperate search for validation and purpose. Jason's interpersonal relationships also reflect the interpersonal instability characteristic of BPD. He forms intense and unstable attachments to figures such as Batman, vacillating between admiration and resentment. His interactions with other characters are marked by rapid shifts in perception, alternating between idealization and devaluation. For example, while Jason initially idolizes Batman as a mentor and father figure, his feelings of betrayal and abandonment lead to resentment and hostility towards him.

Moreover, Jason exhibits self-destructive behaviors as a coping mechanism for his emotional pain, another hallmark of BPD. He engages in reckless actions, disregarding his safety to seek vengeance against those he perceives as enemies. His confrontations with adversaries are often fueled by a desire for self-assertion and control, masking more profound feelings of emptiness and despair.

Underlying Jason's behaviors is a pervasive fear of abandonment, stemming from his traumatic upbringing and experiences of betrayal. This fear drives his desperate attempts to maintain connections with others, even as he pushes them away with his volatile and unpredictable behavior. Jason's fear of abandonment manifests in his interactions with Batman and the Bat family, where he oscillates between seeking their approval and rejecting their authority.

Jason Todd's character in "Batman: Arkham Knight" embodies many of the core features of Borderline Personality Disorder, including emotional dysregulation, identity disturbance, interpersonal instability, self-destructive behaviors, and a fear of abandonment. By analyzing his actions, relationships, and psychological struggles within the context of the game's narrative, it becomes apparent that Jason's character aligns closely with the diagnostic criteria for BPD, providing a compelling framework for understanding his complex and multifaceted personality.

Besides indicating various symptoms of BPD, I would also consider diagnosing Jason with Complex Post post-traumatic stress Disorder (C-PTSD). Given Jason's background of severe trauma, including childhood abuse, neglect, and prolonged torture at the hands of the Joker, it's worth considering Complex PTSD. C-PTSD typically develops in response to chronic trauma and is characterized by symptoms such as emotional dysregulation, disturbed self-concept, difficulties in relationships, and a persistent sense of threat. I would include diagnosing Jason with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD): Jason's experiences of profound loss, trauma, and betrayal may contribute to symptoms of depression, such as feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness, and a loss of interest in activities. His struggles with emotional regulation and chronic feelings of emptiness could also align with depressive symptoms. Following my diagnosis, I am also inclined to believe he suffers from attachment disorders; given Jason's tumultuous upbringing and experiences and a multitude of parental figures involving neglect and abandonment, it's possible that he may have developed attachment-related difficulties. This could manifest in insecure attachment styles, fear of abandonment, and challenges in forming and maintaining healthy relationships. 

Furthermore, I would consider Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD): While Jason displays empathy and compassion at times, his willingness to engage in morally questionable or violent behavior, as well as his disregard for societal norms and rules, may align with some features of ASPD. However, his capacity for genuine care and loyalty makes this disorder out of sorts with his character.

Lastly, Post-Traumatic Embitterment Disorder (PTED): PTED is a proposed diagnostic category characterized by intense feelings of injustice, betrayal, and embitterment following a traumatic event or series of events. Jason's experiences of betrayal and abandonment, particularly by Batman and the Joker, may resonate with the symptoms of PTED. 

In conclusion, the character of Jason Todd in "Batman: Arkham Knight" presents a compelling portrayal of psychological complexity shaped by a tumultuous history of trauma, betrayal, and profound loss. Through a comprehensive analysis of his experiences and behaviors throughout the game, it becomes evident that Jason embodies many psychological struggles, warranting consideration for various diagnostic possibilities. Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) emerges as a primary candidate, given Jason's emotional volatility, identity disturbances, and interpersonal difficulties. His tumultuous relationships, intense fear of abandonment, and self-destructive tendencies align closely with the diagnostic criteria for BPD. Furthermore, Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD) offers another lens through which to understand Jason's psychological profile, considering his history of chronic trauma and its pervasive impact on his functioning.

Additionally, Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) may contribute to Jason's experiences of profound despair, hopelessness, and emotional emptiness. His struggles with attachment-related difficulties suggest the possibility of underlying attachment disorders stemming from his early experiences of neglect and abandonment.

While Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) and Post-Traumatic Embitterment Disorder (PTED) offer alternative perspectives, they may not fully capture the complexity of Jason's character, given his capacity for empathy and genuine care, despite his propensity for morally questionable behavior.

In essence, Jason Todd's character in "Batman: Arkham Knight" is a poignant exploration of the human psyche's intricacies, illustrating the profound impact of trauma on identity, relationships, and emotional well-being. By delving into his psychological struggles within the context of the game's narrative, we gain valuable insights into the complexities of mental health and the enduring resilience of the human spirit.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

an old friend, a new start part iii {r. lupin}

plot: Fourteen years after graduating Hogwarts, you’re offered a job to be the new Muggle Music Professor. Funnily enough, your old friend, Remus Lupin, is also offered a new job at Hogwarts that year.

in this chapter: remus tries to make amends

character: remus lupin x female reader

PART ONE, PART TWO

Days had passed since the full moon - since you had confided your feelings in Remus and he had rejected you - and you had been hiding away in your office for the last two days. To be perfectly truthful, you were hideously embarrassed. You had put your heart on the line and Remus had crushed it far too easily.

At first, you'd been angry. You'd been so angry, hating how cowardly he was, hating how Snape had been right about him, hating that he didn't mirror your feelings. Soon, that anger turned to shame. Then shame turned to sadness. Had you just lost your best friend? Had you just thrown your oldest friendship away? Sadness turned to quiet denial. Maybe Remus was right. Maybe you had let yourself get carried away in a childhood crush and being here, being back in Hogwarts with him... Maybe he was right.

You didn't really know where to go from here. You didn't know if you could show your face in front of Snape or even worse, Remus. What would you say? Oh hi Remus, yeah I'm just fantastic after I poured my heart out to you and you just tore up my heart like it was paper! I'm great. You wondered if he would even speak to you. The things he'd said... You'd put it down as false words but the more you repeated his words in your head the more you started to believe them.

"We are colleagues. Nothing more."

Was he right?

It was on Monday morning that you had to be a little bit braver, you had classes after all. You went down for breakfast at 6.30am on the dot. You'd even went so far as to bring a small basket. Not wanting to risk an awkward run in, you thought it best to fill your basket and take it back to your class to eat before lessons began.

You hadn't been counting on Remus already being in the Great Hall though.

Your heart skipped a beat. There were a few handfuls of students but as for adults it was just you and Remus. You avoided his gaze as you walked towards the teachers table, jaw clenched as you tried you absolute hardest to be nonchalant but from the way your eyes darted to him every few steps and your racing heart, it was obvious that you weren't doing as good a job as you wanted. No, he wasn't right and how dare he convince you that he was! You weren't just colleagues. Anger bubbled in your stomach as you drew closer and closer to him.

"Good morning, Professor Lupin," you said tightly with a forced smile as you began to pluck some breakfast pastries from the teacher's table and put them in your basket.

As much as you tried to hide it, he noticed the tremble of nervousness in your hand and the feathering in your clenched jaw. Lupin's heart ached, "(y/n)..." The sound of his voice made you tense up, frozen in place as your heart thudded in your chest, "I- We need to talk. I-" He swallowed, "I didn't mean what I said."

There was the anger again. You scoffed, "Well you said it, didn't you? Must've been some truth behind it."

Your anger was to be expected. Remus was actually surprised that you hadn't hexed him, "Please let me explain, come we'll take breakfast and go to my classroom and I'll explain. Please."

"Oh I hardly think that's appropriate for colleagues, Professor Lupin," your voice dripped with venom like a snake puncturing right through to his heart, "we wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression or have them think that we're acting like children, now would we?"

You didn't give him a chance to explain as you turned on your heels and sped away, the croissant in your hand squished and crumbling due to your anger. You shoved it in your basket then shoved right past Snape who had witnessed from afar your tense exchange with Remus. He had a smirk which screamed 'I told you so' but you pushed past and hurried back to your class.

Remus watched you go and released a long breath, "Oh, Prongs," he whispered hopelessly, "how do I fix this?" He knew that if James were here, he would've sorted him out but alone... Remus had no idea what to do. Would he really rather lose you completely as opposed to letting you in?

Severus breezed past him, "I see that went well," he muttered as he sat a few seats down from Remus who turned on him with narrowed eyes, "Your other half seems rather upset with you Remus... Something wrong?"

"What do you know?"

Severus shrugged but the smirk on his face said it all, "I know only that you are a coward. I told Professor (y/l/n) that too but obviously, she didn't heed my advice." Remus growled and without another word, he stood abruptly and stormed out of the Great Hall.

Severus smiled as he took a sip of his tea.

For the next week, all you felt was anger. You were so unbelievably annoyed at him. You couldn't understand why or how he could say such horrible things to you. You were his best friend and all of a sudden because he got a little uncomfortable with adult feelings he had just pushed you away? It just didn't make sense to you.

Of course, you'd told Minerva all about over a cup of chamomile tea as she could tell you needed all the calming remedies you could get, "So how long has it been since you spoke to him?"

"A week."

"And you've not heard his side of the story?"

You frowned, "His side?!" You exclaimed, "Minerva, come on!"

Minerva rolled her eyes, "I think, my dear, what you need is some tough love." You blinked, "Yes, what he did was wrong and hurtful and your anger is certainly justified-"

"Thank you."

"But-"

"But?!"

Minerva gave you a pointed look which you knew to be a warning to stop interrupting her, "But," she continued, "have you ever considered his perspective of things?" You were silent and she smirked slightly, "He lost everyone he cared about, including you when your friendship fizzled. He had no one after that. He barely got by and he didn't form any sort of relationship or friendship with anyone else. For twelve years, whilst you lived your life probably experienced love and lots of friendships am I right?-" you gave a small nod, "he didn't. So how hard do you think it would be for you if after twelve years of pure isolation you were thrust back together with a former friend? Despite how he feels, this is all so new again to him, it's a new and unnatural and..." She trailed off, expecting you to finish the sentence.

Your facial expression had softened significantly and McGonagall sat back in her chair taking a long sip of tea as she smiled triumphantly, "He's scared."

McGonagall hummed as she swallowed her tea, "Wouldn't you be?" Her voice was soft, "So yes, while he is indeed in the wrong for saying those things to you, it came from a place of fear not hatred. He's protecting himself and protecting you... I think he deserves to say his piece to you, do you not agree?"

You sighed, "Yeah... I... I hadn't thought about that." It was true, you'd been wrapped in your bubble of anger, furious that he did this but not trying to understand why, "You're right, Minerva. I need to go talk to him. Talk not shout."

As you left Minerva's office, your stomach flipped uncomfortably. You hated being wrong, you hated having to swallow your pride it just wasn't a pleasant experience. You checked your watch for the time and realised that Lupin would be teaching his third years soon so you hurried along and up various staircases to get to his classroom. You didn't know what you were going to say but you knew that you were going to listen.

Remus was inside his classroom shuffling through various essays his students had written him when you knocked on his door. He didn't hide his surprise at all, "(y/n)," he said, voice quiet, "What are you doing here?" He truly thought that you would never speak to him again.

"I wanted to apologise for-"

He cut you off, "You have nothing to apologise for. I was so out of order and so monstrous to you. I apologise. I am so deeply, truly sorry. I never meant it." He was being sincere, you could tell by his eyes, "I-" he had so much that he wanted to say but the clock chimed and he knew students would be arriving soon. He cursed which made you smile slightly, "I've got a lesson just now," he thought for a second then suggested, "why don't you stay for it? It's just my third years and we're just going to be fighting a Boggart." He gestured over to the wardrobe that stood in the middle of the class, "It shouldn't take too long. We can speak afterwards-" because I have so much I want to tell you, he thought.

You nodded, "Okay," you agreed quietly.

As students began to filter in, you smiled as various greeted you. Harry, Hermione and Ron all seemed positively happy that you were here. You let Remus tell his class what they'd be doing, teaching them how to use the Riddikulus spell to change the Boggart. You were perched on a stool to the side of the class, watching him with curious eyes. He was a natural at this. He was so good at teaching, at holding the attention of the young students. He was so clever and he was using that for good; to teach and help students learn. You caught yourself smiling like a schoolgirl at him and quickly forced yourself to remain straight faced but as you looked at the students you saw Hermione look at you with a knowing smile.

"Okay, ready and-" Remus opened the wardrobe door brandishing... Snape?

Your head whipped to who's Boggart it was and you understood. Poor Neville Longbottom. You'd heard first hand how cruel Snape could be to the quiet boy so his fear was understood. Neville used the Riddikulus to transform Snape's robes into his grandmother's clothing. It was you who gave the loudest laugh in that classroom. Neville grinned at you. Ron Weasley was up next turning a spider to a spider on skates. The class continued until it got to Harry and you stood up realising what his worst fear could be. Would it be Voldemort? If so, that wasn't something you wished the class would see. The Boggart twisted to become a large dark Dementor, floating towards him, its bony fingers extended to him. It truly was a wretched thing. Harry blanched and you moved forwards-

But Remus was quicker.

He slid in front of Harry with ease and the Dementor twisted and transformed into...

The whole class gasped.

It was you. You on the ground dead beneath a large white full moon. Your hand covered your mouth, breath trembling beneath them as your heart thudded in your chest. You dying was Remus's worst fear. You put the puzzle together Remus's true worst fear was killing you on a full moon. He did care for you.

Remus snapped a loud, "Riddikulus!" and the moon blew up like a balloon, your image fading from view, and then began to release all of the air from it, flying around the room until Remus used his wand to throw it back inside the wardrobe. You were still staring at the space where your body had been lying. Remus's cheeks were scarlet as he quickly muttered a dismissal to his students but they were unmoving and when you looked at them, you found them all staring back at you. They were all shocked minus one Hermione Granger who was smiling.

"I said class dismissed!" Remus exclaimed, "Out with you all, go!" There was a tenseness to his voice that rarely appeared so upon hearing it, the class scampered. The whispers and murmurs were loud as they all left and then, there was silence.

Remus had his back turned to you, breathing deeply, and you could see that his ears were still scarlet. For a moment, neither of you moved. It was you who broke the silence by stepping forwards and saying quietly, "We'll be the talk of the school now..." It was a pathetic attempt at a joke.

Remus swallowed, "I suppose you might believe that I truly didn't mean anything I said that night now."

"I always knew," you said, "I just didn't understand why you said then in the first place but I do now."

His shoulders sagged and he turned to you, cheeks still a rosy pink, "And what do you think?" He eyed you curiously.

"You're scared. I thought it before I entered this class and now I know it to be true. You're scared to let me in... You're scared in case you hurt me." He gave a barely noticeable nod. You were right, "I understand how isolated you've been over the last twelve years and I know that it's hard to trust other people and yourself. I know how difficult it is to open yourself up to the possibility of getting hurt or in your case, getting someone else hurt but... I trust you, Remus. I always have. Do you think you could trust yourself too?"

"It's not quite as easy as that, (y/n)."

"Remus..." You wanted so desperately to cry but that would achieve nothing so instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to tell him just how much you cared for him, "who was the one person you confided being a wolf to? The rest of the boys figured it out themselves but you... you told me. Why was that? Why for six months was I the only one who knew?"

"I have something to tell you; something that kills me every day of my life. I'm so ashamed of it and I swore to never tell anyone but- but I feel safe with you. I trust you and I trust that you won't judge me as harshly as others might. You're the one person I truly trust, (y/n)."

Remus faltered, "Because... You were and you remain the one person I trust so wholly and completely." It was the truth.

"You've noticed that I get sick every month. I disappear for a few days and come back a very pale, exhausted version of myself... You always ask why, always concerned about me and I brush it off. There's a reason for that. There's a reason for it all."

A small smile pulled your lips upwards, "You know I trust you the same, too. I've never thought for a moment that you were a monster." Remus looked down, "You have never been a monster and you never will be, despite your condition and flaws and all. You're Remus. You're my Remus." You stepped closed to him and gently, so gently, your fingertips traced the long scar over his face, "My beautiful, silly Remus."

"I'm a werewolf, (y/n)." He couldn't look at you and instead focused on his hands which were clenched together in his lap, "That's what the scars are. I was attacked when I was younger and... every month, I turn."

You could see his jaw clench, the muscles feathering, as he swallowed hard, "Why won't you let yourself be happy, Rem?" You whispered. The way you looked up at him, doe eyed and lips pink and plump.

His eyes were closed, his heart hammering in his chest, as he waited for you to say something but all he heard was a shuffling sound. His heart sank thinking that you'd gotten up and left but he gasped when he felt your hands slide over and into his, slowly prying his fists open to hold his trembling hands.

To be honest, he didn't actually know why this was a hurdle that he couldn't get over. He didn't know why he found it so impossible to let the one person he loved into his life. He had a good reason to but you were here, offering your love to him... so why did he not want it?

"I trust you, Remus Lupin. I trust you first and forever."

A pained expression flashed over Remus's face. He was torn. Despite not meaning any of what he said because you weren't just colleagues, you were more, you had always been more. Remus Lupin was in love with you and he always had been but was he ready to admit that to you? Was he ready to fully admit it to himself? He didn't trust himself, didn't trust his condition and Remus thought so lowly of himself that he didn't understand how someone, especially someone like you, could love him. For the last twelve years, he hadn't let anyone else in. He hadn't trusted anyone, not even himself. He had long since forgotten what it was like to let someone in - fully in - and it terrified him. Remus's mouth opened as though he were going to tell you and god, as he stared into your eyes he really wanted to tell you but there was something in the way. Himself.

"(y/n)..." The way he spoke, the tone alone told you the answer. Quickly, you straightened and stepped back as your own walls built right back up, "I... I don't know what to say."

You forced a smile, shaking your head, "You don't have to say anything, Rem. It's fine." Your voice was too light, too breezy for the heaviness of the conversation.

Remus stepped closer but you stepped away immediately. You were pulling away from him, "I'm just- I'm not ready." It was the truth, he simply just wasn't ready yet and it broke your heart.

"I know," you nodded, giving him another smile yet this one was sad, "it's okay, seriously. I- Just- do you believe me when I say that I trust you and when I tell you that I- that I love you?"

Remus blinked, "I... I know that you care and you trust me somewhat but I don't think you realise the full potential of my-"

"Can I have a go?" You asked, sweeping past him as you gestured to the wardrobe which held the Boggart. Remus gave a confused nod. You opened the door and stepped back, allowing the Boggart the space to transform into... Remus Lupin dead on the floor. Remus took a deep breath, "It's been my boggart since we were in fourth year," you told him as you stared at the lifeless image of him on the floor. You swallowed hard, "it was during your transformation that we had the lesson. I threatened to hex the boys if they dared to tell you... Riddikulus!" The Boggart was forced back into the wardrobe.

"Why... Why did you show me?" Remus's voice was small.

You cleared your throat, "Because I need you to know how deeply I care about you. I need you to know that there is still one person alive on this Earth who thinks the world of you and always has. I need you to know that there is hope still left for you despite the loneliness. I'm not begging you to be with me, that's your choice and I'll respect it... I just need you to know that I am here and I am all in if you are. I..." You couldn't find the words and you desperately needed to prove to him that you were speaking the truth so you did the only thing you could think to do.

You kissed him.

It was soft and only lasted a second or two but it got the message across. With trembling hands, you pulled back and straightened your robes. Judging from the way a red hue crept up Remus's neck to his face and ears, you presumed the message got across. You whispered a goodbye before you left the classroom, heart racing and head spinning. It was your last chance to prove to him that you loved him, that you cared enough to have him flaws and all.

Remus sank into a chair after you'd gone, eyes focused on the spot where the Boggart had transformed into his dead body as his fingertips brushed his lips gently.

The handful of times that you'd seen Remus in the following week, the atmosphere was rather tense and awkward. Despite the two of you agreeing to just be friends, there always seemed to be an elephant in the room; unspoken words always on the tip of your tongue. So honestly, the two of you had been avoiding each other just a little bit.

That was, until, Harry Potter asked Remus if he could learn more about his parents again.

"Can I have another look at the photos you have, Professor?" Harry asked you as he sat forwards on his seat.

You already had it looked out, it was in your desk drawer so you pulled it out and handed it to him. For a few minutes, there was silence as Harry looked through the photo album. You evaded your eyes from the photo of you and Remus as Harry flicked by it. Remus glanced over at you, taking notice that your eyes were set on staring out of the window and not at anything that reminded you of him. His heart panged. It was all his fault and he just wanted to make everything okay again.

"What was he like?" Harry asked curiously.

"Your father was-"

The boy cut Remus off, "No, not my dad... Black. Sirius Black. What was he like before he went dark?"

It was you who answered. Remus was rather shocked by the question, unable to answer or even comprehend an answer, "Harry, I don't want to upset you or make you feel a certain type of way because when we were at Hogwarts, Sirius and your father were the absolute best of friends. I think hearing the good things about Sirius might upset you more than you realise."

Harry frowned, "I just..." He shook his head, "I don't understand how his supposed best friend could betray them, it just doesn't make sense to me."

"Nor us," Remus agreed softly, "Believe me, Harry, I've gone over it again and again in my head. I've thought of our seven years at Hogwarts searching for the slightest glimmer of darkness but... I've never found any."

Harry looked to you, hopeful that you could give him something but you shook your head, "For twelve years, Harry, I've been trying to figure it out."

Harry thought for a moment before sighing, "Well, what was he like anyway?" You asked if he was sure to which he nodded.

"He was the thing that kept us all together, I think. From the word 'go' him and James were the best of friends, thick as thieves. If there was trouble, oh you just knew it started with James and Sirius and ended with me and Remus cleaning up the pieces with Peter running behind us." Remus smiled slightly at your words, "I am so sorry that I can't give you the answer as to why he turned bad, Harry."

"Do you hate him?" Harry asked all of a sudden, "I hate him. I hate him for how he betrayed them. And all the while being my godfather!"

Your eyes widened, "Who told you that?"

Remus frowned at the boy who realised that he'd said too much and slunk back into his seat, "I overheard Professor McGonagall and Fudge talking about it." Harry admitted, "It's true then?"

Remus nodded, "Yes... Sirius Black is your godfather, Harry, and that's why Dementors are here and why Dumbledore's inflicted a strict curfew. They think Black's back to kill you, finish the Potter bloodline once and for all."

He repeated the question, eyes boring into yours for some reason, "Professor (y/n), do you hate him?"

Your stomach flipped uncomfortably. This was something you'd wrestled with for years, "I love the version of Sirius that I knew. The boy who could always make me laugh, who was fiercely protective of his friends - he hexed the first boy who broke my heart you know - the boy who would pull me up to dance around the Common Room. He was brilliant. I love those memories I have of him... But the Sirius Black that I knew would never do what he did to James, Lily, Peter and yourself. That's... That's not my Sirius Black. I don't know what happened to my - our Sirius," you gave Remus a look, "but I hate what he became. I hate that he did that to his best friends. I hate him for what he did, yes."

Harry seemed satisfied with your answer, "Can I hang onto this for a while?" He asked, referring to the photo album, "I don't have many photos or anything of them and it would be-"

"Of course," you said with a soft smile, "I heard what happened at your Quidditch match on Saturday, how are you feeling?" You hadn't attended the match but it was the talk of the school. There had been a Dementor on the Quidditch pitch and it had caused Harry to fall from his broom. Dumbledore had made sure he landed safely but it didn't mean he was completely unhurt.

Harry nodded, "I'm alright. I just... I don't know why Dementors affect me so much. I wish there was a way to stop them."

Remus opened his mouth and you looked to him with a smile, "Well, Harry, there is a spell that casts them away," Remus said softly, "and I would be more than happy to teach you it."

Harry beamed, "Really?"

"He's the best teacher for it," you said to Harry with a warm smile.

"It's not the easiest of spells to conjure so it will take a lot of practice." Harry agreed eagerly with everything Remus was telling him, "And I think it best to not tell anyone about learning it, you know how people can be, I think we keep it between us." Again, Harry nodded, "Why don't you come to my office tomorrow after your last class before dinner, we can practice then?"

"Thank you, Professor."

Harry asked a few more questions about parents, things that no one else would be able to tell him. What was my dad's favourite subject? Did my mum get good grades? What was the wedding like? Was my dad good at Quidditch? What did they want to work as? And after another twenty minutes, you bid goodnight to Harry who scampered off clutching the photo album with everything he had.

Remus hovered in your office as you washed the teacups in the kitchen next door. He noticed you had another photo album laying on the table. Curiously, he picked it up and started to flick through it. It was photos of your life after Hogwarts, after James and Lily's deaths, after Peter's death and Sirius's imprisonment... after him. There were various faces, none of which he knew or recognised, but he with every turn of the page his curiosity only grew larger. Photos of you posing at monuments, photos of you laughing with a dark haired woman and blonde woman, photos of you drinking Firewhisky and then he stopped turning when he hit the next section, photos of you with a dark haired very handsome man. There were lots of photos of you and him. Photos where he smiled at you, eyes full of love, photos of you laughing with him, head thrown back as you grinned at the sky, photos of the two of you dancing in the moonlight... a photo of you kissing him and pulling away to grin at the camera. It hurt him knowing how much of a good life you had that he wasn't a part of. He didn't know why it hurt so much to see you happy, to see you living; to see you in love. But my god, it felt like his insides were being torn out through his chest. He hadn't been a part of your life for so long and it hurt knowing that. It hurt knowing that for a decade, you had moved on. You had loved.

You walked through from the kitchen and back to your office where you saw him, photo album in his hands. You raised your eyebrows, surprised that he was going through it but not upset or annoyed. You walked over, seeing the photos he was on, "That was from a rather... odd time in my life."

Remus looked up slightly startled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

You shook your head, sitting on the edge of the desk beside him, "That's Ren," you said, pointing at the man who you had seemed so happy with, "I met him through..." you flipped a few pages back and pointed at the dark haired girl in your photos, "Rei. I met her about two years after we lost contact. I had gone travelling around the world to try and force myself to forget about James and Lily. I met Rei and Grace the other girl in the photo. The three of us travelled together for a few months and then Ren joined us, he's Rei's twin brother. They were all Muggles, never knew anything about wizards or magic and I never told them."

Remus's jaw clenched. Somehow knowing his name, personifying him made him feel so much worse.

"Our relationship developed really quickly. He was going back home in two months so the two of us wanted to experience as much as we could together. It all happened very quickly, very heavy... He asked me to come back home with him, move with him, told me that he loved me, he wanted to marry me."

"And- And you didn't want to?"

You shook your head, "I was running from my past. I was caught up in this dream. When he told me that he loved me, the illusion shattered." Remus asked what you meant, "For two years, I jumped from thing to thing to distract myself from the loss of our friends and that's what I'd been doing. Travelling with barely any money, taking up odd jobs here and there to make enough to get me to a new city, making random friends and travelling with them for a while. When I met Ren, he was... fun. He was safe, you know? He made me feel good about myself but... I was using him to forget about everything else in my life. I had lied about everything, who I was, where I came from, what I did for a living... The only true thing I told him was my name. The next day, I came home. Moved back in with my parents. Got a job in a pub and tried to heal."

Remus's face softened.

"It took a while for me to save up enough to move out. I worked in the pub and did tutoring for all sorts of instruments on the side. Took years for me to have a decent night's sleep without dreaming about Sirius, James and Lily..." You plucked another photo album from your desk, "This album was the subsequent years until now." You flicked through it, "I tried to focus on finding joy again." You pointed to a picture, "Bought a shop, turned it into a music shop. Tutoring on the side still, offerings lessons in-shop as well."

Remus was fascinated. He wasn't jealous or angry now knowing the real story of what happened with Ren, now he was just curious.

"Built that up. Still have it, I have someone running it for me just now whilst I'm here. When I saw the advertisement for a Muggle Music teacher here... I jumped at the chance. I'm sure you did the same. I had removed myself from the Wizarding World pretty much because again it was all too painful but when I saw the job come back, I thought that coming back would be the final step in my healing journey."

"And has it been?"

You frowned, taking the two photo albums and tucking them away, "I don't think the healing process is ever truly done. Seeing you again, being back in Hogwarts with you again... it's done a lot of good for me, honestly but that doesn't mean it's been easy. Healing isn't linear... might not ever be done healing."

"Do you regret coming back?"

You shook your head, "Not at all. I reconnected with my best friend and I get to spend time with James's son... Absolutely no regrets."

Remus felt rather ashamed that he'd gotten so jealous over looking at your photos with a former lover. It hurt him in ways it shouldn't because you were here, you'd been offering him the chance of happiness and he had rejected you multiple times so truly, he had no right to be jealous over it.

"I..." He frowned, unsure where to start, "After James and Lily, I pulled away from you when I should've clung to you. I was scared, honestly. Scared of losing the last person I loved... I tried to slot into the Muggle world too but it wasn't too kind to me. I couldn't keep steady employment when you know of my condition. After a few months of me steadily phoning in sick for a week at a time every four weeks, I usually ended up being sacked. I barely had enough money for my rent and for food so I had no chance of making Wolfsbane to aid me... My mother had passed but I didn't dare go back home to my father despite how happy he was to see me. I couldn't endanger him so my only choice was to take odd jobs. Jobs that were far below my level of skill and expertise but I had to."

He clicked his tongue, "Sometimes I'd pop into Diagon Alley and would find some Wizards who needed help clearing out a Boggart or things like that so would do that but most of the time it was jobs like cleaning a pub, helping out at a farm, deliveries... Mostly that sort of thing... I had seen the Defence post being advertised each year and it was Dumbledore himself actually who sought me out this year. He convinced me to come... There were a lot of times where I hadn't enough money for the basic necessities. I still don't, as you can see by my clothes and belongings. Everything I own is second hand and in tatters." He felt ashamed again. Shame burned hot on his face and in the pit of his stomach. Poor, penniless Remus his mind taunted, "In twelve years, you seem to have accomplished a lot and I have accomplished very little." Remus continued, "That's part of the reason I cannot be with you. Aside from being a werewolf, I have nothing to my name. I'm poor and I can't give you the life you deserve... that and I could maul you at any full moon." The last part was said with some form of bitter humour.

Your heart ached for him, "Just because you have less that a person does not mean that you are less than them," you reminded him gently, taking his cold hand and grasping it tightly in your own, "Penniless or not, Rem, that's not why I care the way I do about you." For a moment, hope surged inside him warming the coldest cockles of his heart but quickly, he extinguished that hope, sliding his hand from yours. You tried not to let the action hurt you or - at the very lease - try not make it obvious that it did.

The two of you had experienced completely different experiences in the last twelve years. One had gone off, making a better life for themselves and in some respects had been rather successful and the other had suffered, barely skimming by. Yet neither of you were entirely different people. Yes, Remus's face was tired with more lines and a weary look in his eye. He wasn't as brave as he once was, he was isolated but you knew that your Remus was still in there, you would often catch glimpses of him every so often. You were just as outspoken as you once were though you were angrier, less happy. Remus noticed that when you concentrated on something you always frowned whereas before your eyebrows would raise in wonder. Different but not completely. Partly a stranger, partly familiar. It was a weird sort of limbo the two of you were caught in.

Remus swallowed and cleared his throat after a few minutes of silence, "I should go." You let him go and once he was gone, you found yourself closing your eyes, fingertips dancing over your other palm as you tried your hardest to retain the details of how his hand felt in yours.

Remus stood outside your classroom, heart beating like a drum. Remus had always been a very level-headed person, always listening to his head and never to his heart but tonight was different. His mind whirred with ideas, questions, thoughts and fantasies that he couldn't stamp down. The light tendrils of hope that he had thought he extinguished reached out wrapping themselves around his heart and squeezing until it was almost all covered. His head fell back against the door of your classroom as he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to fight his own compulsion.

"Bugger it to all Hell."

And then in not Remus Lupin fashion, he threw open your classroom door and marched towards your office with determined stomps. He didn't hesitate.

"You hesitate, Moony," James said with a shake of the head, "Every time there's an opportunity to tell Ghost, you hesitate!"

"What's wrong with hesitating?"

"You hesitate and it means you think and your brain is its own worst enemy! Don't hesitate, don't think... just do."

Remus opened your office door and found you were still perched on the edge of the desk, staring intently down at your hands with an unreadable expression. It took until Remus was halfway to you to realise that he was there.

"Rem?" You asked confused as you looked up at him, "What are you-"

Just do.

His hands, steady and warm, planted themselves on your cheeks and you barely had time to register the fact he was holding your face when he was kissing you. It was a bold, brave kiss and fireworks seemed to explode in your stomach. He was here. Your Remus. You melded into his touch, hands finding themselves clasping his shirt, you could feel his chest beneath it, feel his heart beating wildly under your fingers. The kiss was deep and passionate and Remus's body moved into yours, his leg between yours but the need for air was too great and all too soon, Remus had detached his lips from yours leaving you both breathless and rather flushed. His forehead fell to yours, pressing against it gently as you panted and then he pulled away slightly. His pupils were dilated and his skin had a rather healthy rosiness to it.

He opened his mouth and then he... hesitated and he began to think, "Goodnight, (y/n)," he whispered, breath fanning over your face before he completely pulled himself away from you leaving your office and your classroom rather hurriedly. You stayed staring at the place where his face had been, happy and rosy, as your fingers moved to your lips feeling the ghost of his on yours as you tried to comprehend what had just happened.

Remus's face burned scarlet the whole walk two floors down to his classroom and when he got there, he cast the locking charm so that no one could bother him. He went straight to his office and through to the adjoining bedroom where he collapsed onto the bed, hands over his face as he tried to calm his drumming heart.

It took a long time for you to wrap your head around the events of the last few minutes with Remus. Yes, you had kissed him the previous week but this was different. This was Remus kissing you. This was Remus finally allowing himself to feel for you, letting his heart take over for a change. This was entirely different. Your hands shook with excitement as you got dressed for bed and when you finally settled beneath the duvet, your mind reeled with questions of what would be.

Remus stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep, as his mind berated him over and over. He felt stupid. He felt silly for letting his heart take over. With a loud groan, he stood up, dressing back into his outdoor clothes. A walk, he decided firmly, a walk to calm the nerves. Memories of ghosts past continued to creep up on him.

"Moony, you seriously have got to stop thinking!" Sirius hissed to him as he joined the two boys by the fireplace in the Common Room, "You just have to tell her how you feel."

"What if she doesn't feel the same?" Remus asked with a pointed look to James who threw himself back dramatically with his arms in the air in an exasperated show, "I'm-"

"I'll hex you if the next word to leave your mouth is 'dangerous' or 'a monster'," James snarled before his face softened, "Moony, we know for a fact she likes you."

"(y/n)'s bloody told us before you dolt!" Sirius scowled, "You're a Gryffindor, Moony, use some of that lion courage and tell her."

Remus's mind was made up and he slunk into the red armchair, "But I'm not a lion, am I? I'm a wolf."

His two best friends exchanged tired looks, "But if you never tell her, if you never take the chance... Will you ever be truly happy?" It was James who spoke, "Will she ever be truly happy if the boy she adores never makes a move?"

"No, I suppose you're right," Remus said softly, "but... she'd be safe."

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[cursedonyx]

Hello, sorry to bother you, but I've had a little brainrot idea for hogwarts legacy for a hot minute, but I don't have the time to sit down and write it. The idea is that mc has a baby or toddler little sibling (male or female), and since they're both orphans, mc has to raise their siblings while in hogwarts and dealing with all the events of the game. And then the absolutely shocked faces and storylines of the people around them seeing mc beat goblins with a baby strapped to their back. Sorry if it's unrealistic, but I had to raise my neice and nephew practically by myself at 15 so I would love to see it happen in game.

Hi, what an interesting concept! I decided to do this Reactions style as it seemed it would be easier to fit in all the characters I could think of – hope you like it!

Asks are open ~ send me anything ✨

Sebastian Sallow: It was certainly a shock to see the new student march through the Great Hall later than everyone else, the rumours already circling about their arrival. Even more surprising was the fact that this fifth-year had a… a baby of all things strapped to their back! Was it theirs? Were they a teenage parent? Was it a cousin, a sibling, or some waif they’d picked up along the way?

Sebastian learns quickly enough the new student’s baby is in fact their sibling, and is always with them. Even in class. And when Professor Hecat suggests they duel, MC doesn’t even think about unstrapping the infant from their shoulders, despite Hecat’s protestations. He’d go easy on them, for the sake of the baby.

That was his mistake. MC proved to be a formidable opponent, kicking his arse seven ways to Sunday without even breaking a sweat as the baby watched curiously from over their shoulder and the rest of the class cheered them on. And as the weeks and months went by, the baby joined them in their adventures, merely shrieking with glee as MC dived and rolled out of the way of goblin attacks and clapping their hands as MC torched inferi, as if it was all some sort of game. Sebastian made sure to be extra careful in protecting MC, for the baby’s sake. Just the baby. Of course it was. It had nothing to do with the fact he admired MC more than perhaps even his own parents.

Ominis Gaunt: Ominis has never liked children, especially babies. They’re noisy, smelly, sticky, and he’s convinced if he holds one, it’ll throw up on him. It takes him a moment or ten to warm up to MC and even longer to warm up to MC’s baby, especially when he catches both of them coming out of the Undercroft, smelling like Confringo. Even so, he reins in his temper as he scolds MC, not wanting to upset the baby and cause a ruckus at this time of night. He can’t help but be concerned for the little one as MC accepts their tongue-lashing with humility and skulks away. Casting Confringo around a child surely isn’t a good idea.

His concern grows when he’s foraging for ingredients along the edge of the Forbidden Forest one day and hears MC and the baby go into the Forest itself, whistling happily as the baby burbles on their shoulders. He follows, wondering if they know how dangerous it is and planning to keep them safe from a distance when a spider attacks. MC dispatches it with ease before he can even aim his wand. He rushes over, intending to scold them again, only to find MC nonchalantly passing the baby a severed spider leg to play with. The baby promptly hits Ominis about the head with it and screams with laughter.

He smiles, and begins to spend more time with the toughest pair of people he thinks he’s ever met.

Garreth Weasley – Potions class is where he has the most fun, even though his experiments tend to cause fires, explosions, extra limbs and the occasional change of hair colour, all of which result in detention. That was until MC showed up to class with their sibling in tow, the little mite grasping handfuls of their hair as they brewed their potions. Damn it all, he’d really wanted to try adding doxy eggs to his brew to see what happened. He couldn’t do that with a baby in the classroom. He didn’t mind singeing his fellow students, that was the risk they all took as wizards and witches around such volatile concoctions, and if he was going to be the best potioneer the world had ever seen, well…

But he couldn’t risk hurting a baby. He loved babies. They were cute and fat with pudgy tummies and made adorable little faces with their great big eyes and drooling mouths, fascinated by everything around them.

So Garreth started behaving. He saved his experiments for outside the classroom, and though it occasionally still landed him in detention, it certainly granted him more free time, and he began to appreciate the finer rules of potion-making, leading his experiments to become more successful as time went by. He changed his cauldron station to one next to MC once Sharp determined he wouldn’t be a health hazard, and got to know them both a little better. He was stunned by all MC had been through, raising such a precious little bean all by themselves. Every time they shared a class, he had a cake or two to share, a bit of homework he’d already written for them, offering to go to Hogsmeade on their behalf to get anything they needed. Maybe one day, if MC was willing, he could be another parental figure in this cute little thing’s life. He’d always wanted a big, happy family.

Leander Prewett – There’s not much Leander really understands, though he tries very hard to pretend otherwise. One of the big things he just doesn’t get are babies. He’s never been around them, and after noticing MC has their baby with them all the time, he’s not overly keen on getting too involved and doing or saying something stupid that would make him look like an idiot.

But one day, the baby has been grizzling all day long, with MC walking them up and down all through the castle, trying to settle them, but the baby’s just not having it. He spots them coming out of the main doors to where he’s trying to get a little flying practice in, and they seem to be making a beeline for him. Merlin, if there was ever a time for someone to grace him with flight skills, it was now. He attempts to kick off from the ground and merely ends up turning head over heels four or five times before tumbling to the ground with a yelp.

Wincing, he looks up, expecting people to be laughing at him. Someone certainly is, the high-pitched, free laughter soaring over their heads. Glowering a little, he stands up and tries to preserve a little of his dignity, turning to see MC beside him, bouncing the baby in their arms. The baby is no longer grizzling, but is laughing helplessly, waving its fat little fists in glee.

MC thanks him earnestly for making her little sibling laugh, and offers to buy him a butterbeer for his trouble. On the way, Leander makes sure whenever the little one looks like it might start crying to take a pratfall or walk into a low-hanging tree branch, grinning as each time makes the baby scream with laughter.

As they talk, he learns about all MC has gone through, and his admiration for them goes through the roof. He makes sure to seek them out daily to fall down the stairs or do a silly dance to get the baby laughing. It makes MC laugh too, and he loves the way they smile when he does it.

Amit Thakkar – Amit steals up to the astronomy tower one evening to get in an extra few hours of stargazing, hoping his diligence to the subject will ingratiate him with the notoriously cold Professor Shah. But when he gets there, he sees MC leaning on the railing, dandling their sibling on their hip, pointing up at the celestial heavens and murmuring some twee nonsense about the twinkly dots. He goes quietly to his telescope, trying not to disturb them, when he overhears MC talk about the stars being the souls of those departed, and how ‘mummy and daddy are up there.’

It just about breaks his heart. He’d read about tragedy, of course, it was a staple in many of his adventure books, but learning that one of his fellow students had suffered something that made him cry when he read about made-up people enduring it, well. He leaves his telescope and moves over, leaning on the railing as well and speaking in a soft voice about the cosmos, pointing out the stars and naming them until MC lays a hand on his arm.

The baby has gone to sleep, soothed by his voice. MC thanks him, telling him the baby has been having trouble sleeping since their parents died, they both have, in fact. The baby stirs, and Amit pulls out one of his favourite books and a blanket, wrapping them both up in it and settling down nearby, reading to them both until they fall asleep.

It becomes a regular thing, and Amit smiles every time he looks up from the pages to see them cuddled up together, holding each other and sound asleep. It's nice to feel useful, and he appreciates being able to do some small thing for them when they’ve already been through so much.

Natsai Onai – While initially anxious about asking for MC’s help in dealing with Rookwood and Harlow, Natsai soon learns how capable MC is from her fellow students. When they go to rescue Highwing, Natsai almost begs her to leave their sibling in the castle, but MC refuses. Not only does the baby seem to understand the danger they are in and keeps quiet, but it seems to actually enjoy it when MC Depulso’s an arrogant Ashwinder off the edge of a tower, chuckling heartily. The baby shrieks with joy as they fly on their rescued Hippogriffs, waving their hands in the air as MC and Natsai whoop and cheer. The baby really feels like a member of the team, even though it didn’t actually do anything, sort of like a mascot.

Natsai’s fears for the baby decrease with every adventure and MC proves time and time again they’re not just a hell of a warrior, but a damn good parental figure too. She delights in the quieter moments they share, often begging MC to let her look after the baby to give MC a much deserved break. Though initially reluctant, MC agrees for a few hours one evening, saying they needs to speak with Sebastian and Ominis. They return, looking a little tired and somewhat stressed (can she blame them after hanging out with a Gaunt?), and happily takes the little one back, thanking Natsai for her help. She lets Natty look after the little one more often, and Natsai teaches them both some nursery rhymes from Matabeleland.

Poppy Sweeting – To Poppy, MC having a baby is no skin off her nose. It's almost like having a pet that’s going to be able to talk one day and clean up its own poop. Bonus! But right now, like all baby beasts, this one is adorable and she takes every moment she can to spend time with MC and their sibling, fussing over them both and insisting she cuts up their dinner for them, even if they’re in different houses.

When Poppy asks MC for help with the poachers, it’s not a decision she’s made lightly. She knows how vulnerable babies are, even baby dragons, and to bring a baby into a poacher den could signal trouble for everyone. MC insists on their sibling coming with them, and Poppy needs the help. Poppy soon learns she didn’t need to worry, watching MC absolutely decimate the poachers without breaking a sweat, the baby on her shoulders waving their own little hand as if they were casting spells as well, going ‘wheeeeeeee’ when MC rolls out of the way of a hex, and burbling happily when the dragoness stares them down.

Poppy makes a point to introduce MC and the little one to some safer beasts, enjoying a cup of tea with MC as they watch the baby roll around with the Poffle of Puffskeins Professor Howin has in the pens by the Beasts classroom. She makes a point to join Natsai when babysitting.

Professor Sharp – While initially concerned about there being a baby in his class (with Garreth, FFS) he soon learns MC is more than capable of being a responsible carer, and his admiration for them grows as he watches them soldier on with classwork, homework, babywork and, if the rumours are to be believed, their rather dangerous extra-curriculars. He makes sure to slip some Soothing Solution into MC’s bag for those difficult nights, and lets the baby chew on his auror badge the few times MC lands detention with him. He won’t give them any leeway to be a cheeky little shit in his classes, baby or no. Besides, it’s nice to watch them grow up.

Professor Garlick – She’s alarmed when MC marches into her class, baby in tow, worried the baby will be eaten by a venomous tentacula or Chinese chomping cabbage, but her concern vanishes when MC proves to have the awareness of five highly-caffeinated people, keeping the baby safe during her classes. She offers to help where she can, and MC gratefully accepts dummies with essence of dittany on them to soothe the baby’s teething.

Professor Black – Most people are convinced he doesn’t even know what a baby is, despite the fact he’s got five children. He’s aloof most of the time, barely paying anyone any attention, least of all MC and the baby. But after a particularly trying day when the baby just wouldn’t settle, MC watches with apprehension as Black strides towards them, scowling. Expecting a scolding (and a detention for the attitude they prepare to give back in return) MC is surprised when Black holds out a tiny plush doll in the shape of a kneazle without a word, then stalks off like he didn’t just give their sibling a teddy.

Professor Fig – Having seen all MC can do, even with a baby on their back at all times, he can’t help but admire them, though he desperately wishes they didn’t have to do so much alone. As such, he takes on the role of not just mentor, but father and grandfather figure to the pair. When things get too tough, he happily encourages MC to take a nap in his office, rocking the baby to sleep as MC snoozes on the sofa, cooking for the three of them and making sure to help MC with their homework. Towards the middle of the year, MC bursts into his office, holding the little one aloft.

“Say it again, baby!” MC cries.

The baby grins, chewing its own pudgy fist. Around a mouthful of their own hand, they speak their first word.

“Fig,” they say.

It’s the proudest moment of his life.

[electra-jolts-magnetism]

...or...or reverse adopt

Griselda: Why did the girls give me a mother's Day card?

Griffin: I got a step-mom card.

Faragonda: I got a mother's Day card too.

All three: ...

Griselda: Did the girls really just adopt us as mother figures?

Winx: We did it in first year actually!

This reminds me of a post I reblogged 😂 It said:

Yes it's sweet when your fave adopts the plucky child they've just met, but the best trope is when the child finds the tallest, gruffest old man they can find and says 'yeah, I'm gonna be his problem now'.

The Winx spend more time with Faragonda and Griselda than their parents at this point, and those girls know something is going on between them and Griffin. They’ve been calling them their Moms for years (In the beginning, The three of them always chalked it up to an accident as it wasn’t unusual for students to call them “mom.”)

After graduation, The Winx realize that this could become confusing and decide that their Birth Mothers (& Vanessa) would be “Mom”; Faragonda would be “Mama”; Griselda would be ”Mother or Ma”; Griffin would be “Step-Mom or Wicked Stepmother” (because they think it's hilarious); and that Faragonda, Griselda & Griffin would be their “Bonus-Moms”. However, when referring to All of them, the Winx call them their “Moms”. And yes, the specialists are aware.

[Most of these take place after graduation, but some can take place before]

===== Bloom =====

Person A: What’s it like having two moms?

Bloom, looking through her phone: Five.

Person A: What?

Bloom, holds up her phone and shows them a picture of Vanessa, Marion, Faragonda, Griselda & Griffin having tea: Five moms, and It’s pretty nice.

Bloom, counting on her fingers as she lists them off: When I experience culture clashes, I talk about it to my adoptive mom because she can understand my point of view. (Vanessa)

Bloom: I’m able to get to know my birth mom and learn how similar we are despite not being raised by her. (Marion)

Bloom: Mama is always willing to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on and offer advice. And when she has time for tea, she will tell all sorts of stories about my other moms, especially the embarrassing ones. She also gives the best hugs. (Faragonda)

Bloom: When I was falling asleep during my classes, the professors eventually stopped waking me up; I later learned Mother told them to let me sleep. She would then go over everything I missed one-on-one during detention or let me sleep through detention if I was in there for another reason. Now, she lets my friends and I nap in her office and will make time for us in her absurdly busy schedule if we need her. She also gives surprisingly good hugs if you’re brave enough to ask. (Griselda)

Bloom: And if the Winx and I are ever in trouble or end up in jail, our Step-mom will bail us out and not tell any of our other Moms. (Griffin)

===== Stella =====

Stella, hears someone talking shit about Faragonda: Keep my Mama’s name out of your fucking mouth.

–––

Stella, hears someone talking shit about Griselda: Keep my Mother’s name out of your fucking mouth.

–––

Stella, hears someone talking shit about Griffin: Keep my Step-mom’s name out of your fucking mouth.

(This one, in particular, has led several people to wonder when Griffin married one of her parents; Luna is the usual assumption)

===== Flora =====

Helia, over the Phone: The guys and I are wondering if you and the girls are free this weekend?

Flora: I’m so sorry, but we all have plans.

Helia, a little curious: Really? What are you all doing?

Flora: Well, Mama’s taking Bloom and me to that new Botanical Garden that recently opened.

Flora: Mother got tickets to a Ballet that Musa and Aisha have been talking about for months and is taking them both.

Flora: And Stella and Tecna are going to watch a Meteor Shower with our Step-mom.

Helia: That sounds incredible. I hope you all have fun!

Flora: We will!

===== Musa =====

Some Asshole to Musa: Well, at least I have a Mom!

Musa, without missing a beat: Actually, I have three, and each of them could kick your mom’s ass!

===== Tecna =====

Timmy, staring at the device on the table in disbelief: Where did you get this?

Tecna, speaking casually as she typed away on a laptop that wasn’t even available for purchase yet: Mother made some calls. It turns out a lot of people owe her favors.

===== Aisha =====

Nabu or Nex: Hey, Aisha, can I ask you some quick questions?

Aisha: Sure, what’s up?

Nabu or Nex: Why do you have a dagger strapped to your leg? Where in the Magic Dimension did you get it? Do you even know how to use it? If so, who taught you? And do your parents know?

Aisha: My Bonus-Moms firmly believe you should never go anywhere without a knife.

Aisha: It was a gift from my Step-mom.

Aisha: Yes, I do. Mother taught me, and she wouldn’t let me go anywhere with it until she was confident that I knew how to use it.

Aisha, Smirking: Mama asked, and they said No.

[fanfics4all]

Pure-Blood Potter: Chapter 21

Request: Yes / No  This was requested by @loxbbg​

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Potter!Reader (Eventually)

James Potter x OC Arabella Renaud

Harry Potter x Half-sister!Reader

Word count: 3105

Warnings: Mentions of depression

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

I walked into Defence Against the Dark Arts and all the desks were gone. Everyone’s things were off to the side and they were standing around. There was a large wardrobe towards the front of the classroom and I was confused. 

“Y/N!” I looked over and saw Harry waving me over to him and Ron. I walked over and smiled at the two. 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked and I nodded. 

“I’m fine.” I said and the two didn’t look convinced. 

“So, do you know what we’re learning today?” I asked, quickly changing the subject. 

“No idea, but could be anything in this bloody class.” Ron said and I giggled slightly. The cabinet started shaking and everyone went quiet. We all looked at the wardrobe, some whispered wondering what could be inside. 

“Intriguing, isn’t it?” Professor Lupin said from behind us. 

“Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what is inside?” He asked as he made his way to the front. 

“That’s a boggart, that is.” Dean answered. 

“Very good, Mr. Thomas.” He said and my eyes went sightly wide. The wardrobe shook again and a few of us jumped slightly. 

“Now, can anybody tell me what a boggart looks like?” Professor Lupin asked. 

“No one knows.” Hermione said and we looked at her confused. She most definitely wasn’t next to us before. 

“When’d she get here?” Ron asked. 

“Boggarts are shape-shifters They take the shape of whatever a particular person fears the most. That’s what makes them so…” 

“So terrifying. Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” Professor Lupin finished her sentence. The cabinet continued to shake as he made his way next to it. 

“Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart.” He continued and the shaking got a bit more intense. I jumped back slightly and Harry placed his hand on my arm. I gave him a small smile, which he returned. 

“Let’s practice it now. Uh, without wands, please.” Professor Lupin said. 

“After me, Riddikulus!” He said. 

“Riddikulus!” We all repeated. 

“Very good. A little louder and very clear. Listen, Riddukulus!” Professor Lupin pronounced the spell clearer and louder. 

“Riddikulus!” We all said louder than before. 

“This class is ridiculous.” I heard Draco mutter. I looked over at him and he sent me a small smile. I smiled back at him and noticed Pasny wasn’t standing next to him like she usually would. 

“Very good! Well, so much for the easy part.” Professor Lupin said and I turned back to face him. 

“You see, the incantion alone is not enough. What really finished a boggart is… laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing. Let me explain. Uh, Neville.” He picked out. 

“Will you join me, please?” He asked. The wardrobe shook again and Neville looked truely scared. 

“Come on. Don’t be shy. Come on. Come on.” Professor Lupin gently coaxed him to the front of the group. 

“Hello. Neville, what frightens you most of all?” He asked the boy gently. Neville mumbled his answer under his breath, poor boy probably doesn’t want to get made fun of. 

“Sorry?” Professor Lupin asked. 

“Professor Snape.” Neville answered louder and clearer this time. Some students started to laugh and I rolled my eyes at them. 

“Professor Snape? Yes…” Professor Lupin also chuckled slightly. 

“Frightens all. And I believe you live with your grandmother.” He said. 

“Y-Yes, but I don’t want that boggart to turn into her either.” Neville answered and the students laughed again. 

“No.” Professor Lupin shook his head and looked back at the shaking wardrobe. 

“It won’t.” He added. 

“I want you to picture her clothes- only her clothes- very clearly, in your mind.” He said. 

“She carries a red handbag.” Neville started, but the professor shook his head. 

“We don’t need to hear. As long as you see it, we’ll see it. Now, when I open that wardrobe, here’s what I want you to do. Excuse me.” Professor Lupin said and walked night next to Neville. He whispered something in his ear and Neville looked at him in shock. 

“Can you do that?” Professor Lupin asked. The cabinet shook again and the Professor started taking out his wand. 

“Yes. Wand at the ready.” He said and Neville held his up. 

“One… two… three.” He said and unlocked the wardrobe. The door creecked open and Professor Snape walked out, looking as angry as ever. 

“Think, Neville, think.” Professor Lupin encouraged. The door shut behind the creature and he was standing in front of Neville. 

“Riddikulus!” Neville shouted and pointed his wand at the fake Professor Snape. He quickly was put in some old woman clothes that looked ridiculous. Everyone, including Professor Lupin started laughing at the boggart. 

“Wonderful, Neville! Wonderful! Incredible. Okay. To the back Neville. Everyone form a line!” Professor Lupin said. Everyone quickly started getting into a line and pushed and shoved each other. 

“Form a line! I want everyone to picture the thing they fear the very most and turn it into something… funny.” He said as he put on some music. 

“Next! Ron!” He said and Ron stepped up. 

“Concintrate. Face your fear. Be brave!” Professor Lupin said. Ron’s boggart turned into a giant spider. Ron whimpered and he pulled out his wand. 

“Come on, wand at the ready, Ron. Wand at the ready.” Professor Lupin said. He finally pulled it out of his robe and pointed it at the boggart. 

“Riddikulus!” He said and the spider was now wearing rollerskates. Everyone started to laugh as the spider struggled at stand up. 

“Yes! You see? Very good! Very good! Marvelous! Absolutely very, very enjoyable. Parvati! Next! Parvati.” Professor Lupin said as he laughed along with us. 

Parvati’s fear was a giant snake. She turned her boggart into a jack-in-the-box, which was quite funny looking. I was up next and I took a deep breath. I knew what my fear was and I really didn’t want to face it. I didn’t want anyone to see it. I didn’t want Harry to see it. I stepped up to the jack-in-the-box and watched it turn into my Father. Everyone was deadly silent as he took a step closer to me. 

“Why would I ever love you when you were just to get my parents off my back? You were only born to restore your Mother’s statue. I left to the family I truely loved, Harry will always mean more to me than you. A muggle-born will always mean more to me than you. You are nothing to me. Just a means to an end.” The boggart hissed at me. I felt tears well in my eyes and I didn’t even try to hold them back. Hearing my Father, my true Father say such things to me when I never really knew him broke my heart. I felt small and worthless. I felt someone pull me back slightly and looked up to see Harry now stood in front of me. The boggart quickly turned into a dementor and Harry stood just as frozen as I was. It was coming closer to the both of us and Professor Lupin quickly slid in front of Harry. 

“Here!” He shouted. His boggart turned into the full moon behind some clouds. 

“Riddikulus!” He said and the moon turned into a balloon. He opened the wardrobe and the boggart was now locked behind the door once again. 

“Right, well, sorry about that. Uh, that’s enough for today.” He said, Harry and I were both still frozen in place. I still had tears running down my face and I felt awful. 

“If you’d all like to collect your books from the back of the class, that’s the end of the lesson. Thank you.” He said and the students groaned, but gathered their things anyway. 

“Sorry, sorry, go on. You can have too much of a good thing.” He said. Once most of the students were already out of the classroom I snapped out of my frozen state. I quickly gathered my things and tried to wipe the tears that were still falling. 

“Love, are you alright?” Draco asked, gently grabbing my arm. I hid my face behind my hair and nodded. 

“F-Fine, Draco…” I whispered. Draco grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. He looked so worried and gently wiped a tear that was near his thumb. 

“Talk to me, love.” He whispered and I pulled away. 

“I-I said I was f-fine…” I sniffled.

“Miss. Potter, would you mind joining me in my office?” Professor Lupin asked, before Draco could say anything. I looked up and him and nodded. 

“Meet me in the common room as soon as you’re finished with him.” Draco said, making me look at him again. I could tell he wouldn’t take no for an answer and I smiled slightly, he was acting like my Draco again. 

“O-Okay…” I whispered. He sighed and gently kissed my forehead. I blushed slightly and followed Professor Lupin into his office. 

“Would you like a cup of tea?” He asked as he motioned for me to take a seat. I gave a small nod and he smiled at me. He silently made us each a up and took a seat behind his desk. 

“I’m not sure if your Mother told you about me and your Father, but-” 

“You were friends with my Father. You, Black, which I’m guessing is Sirius Black, Pettigrew, and my Father always got into trouble.” I said and he nodded with a small smile. 

“Mother said you were the most responsible one.” I said and he laughed. 

“That’s true, James, and Sirius specifically were always getting into trouble. They loved playing tricks on people and I tried to keep them in line, but I partaked as well.” He said with a fond smile. He gently shook his head and lent forward on his desk. 

“I’d like you to know that your Father would never say anything the boggart said to you.” I said and I felt a tear escape my left eye. 

“Y/N, when your Father told us that Arabella was pregnate with you, he was so happy and excited. We were all equally happy for him, but then he told us that he’d never be able to see you. I’ve never seen James so heartbroken in his life.” He said and I nodded. 

“I know… Mother gave me the letter he wrote…” I whispered. 

“Then you must know that James would absolutely never say any of those things to you. He loved you more than you could possibly know and he very much wanted to meet you.” Professor Lupin said and gently placed his hand over mine. 

“He said that in the letter…” I said and let the tears fall. 

“James wanted to be apart of your life so badly, Y/N. Lilly was hoping that Arabella would give in a let him see you. Your Mother was trying to protect you.” He said and I looked into Professor Lupin’s eyes. 

“Did he truely want to see me?” I asked, my voice quiet because I felt like I was about to break. 

“I promise you, he wanted to see you more than anything.” He answered and I smiled a bit. 

“Thank you, Professor.” I said and wiped my tears away. 

“Of course, my dear. My door is always open if you need to talk.” He said and I smiled a bit brighter. 

“D-Do you think you could tell me about my Father one day?” I asked and he smiled at me. 

“I would love to, dear.” He said and I smiled brightly. 

“Really? Mother’s told me some things, but I knew they weren’t friends in school.” I said and he chuckled. 

“Oh no, but James never really bothered her, Sirius on the other hand…” He laughed and shook his head. 

“How can you talk so fondly about a man that escaped Azkaban?” I asked, confused. 

“It’s a long story, that I’m sure you’ll find out about at a later date.” He said with a sigh and stood up. 

“Right, well I have another class in a few and I’m sure you have classes you need to get to.” He said with a smile. I nodded and stood up. He opened the door for me and I smiled at him. 

“Thank you again, Professor, I needed to hear that.” I said and he smiled fondly at me. 

“No need to thank me, Y/N.” He said and I left his office. 

I held my books to my chest and smiled slightly to myself. Professor Lupin really did know how to make me feel better, unless he put something in that tea, but I doubt he’d do that. I can see why my Father was friends with him. I walked through the halls and down to the dungeons. I felt my stomach tighten slightly as I made it closer to the Slytherin common room. They all saw me crying. They all heard what the boggart said to me… I quickly dropped my head and hopped that they weren’t just sitting around the common room. I mumbled the password and the wall opened up. I made my way into the room and saw them all sitting around. Draco and Pansy were sitting next to each other, Blaise was sitting on one of the lone chairs, Vincent and Gregory were sitting on the couch opposite Draco and Pansy. Of course they were all sitting there waiting… I quickly looked down and tried to make my way to the girl’s dorms without being noticed. 

“Y/N! Come hang out with us.” Pansy called and I froze in place. 

“Actually I have a lot of studying to do and I’m feeling a bit tired… I’m just gonna go up to the dorm.” I said with a small smile. I turned to go towards the stairs again, but Pansy made her way quickly in front of me. 

“You’ve hardly hung out with us anymore.” She said with her arms crossed and a frown. 

“I’ve just been busy with classes.” I lied. Pansy narrowed her eyes and pointed at me. 

“But you have time to hang out with those bloody Gryffindors and that stupid Hufflepuff of yours?” She asked as she poked my chest. 

“Pansy, lay off.” Blaise said. 

“Why are you always coming to her rescue? She’s been ignoring us!” Pansy said, glaring at Blaise. 

“I’m not rescuing her.” Blaise rolled his eyes. 

“Maybe she’s ignoring us because you and Malfoy are ignoring her.” Gregory said and Pansy turned her glare to him. 

“Excuse me? Draco and I aren’t ignoring her, she’s ignoring us!” Pansy hissed. 

“You two are too obsessed with each other to even notice she’s hurting.” Blaise said and my eyes widened. 

“Hurting? I know when she’s hurting.” Draco growled at him. 

“Oh really? Is that why you ignored her all through her birthday party and didn’t notice that her little Hufflepuff broke up with her that night?” Blaise asked with a raise of his brow. “Blaise!” I hissed. Draco’s head shot over to me and I quickly looked down. I felt the tears returning and I really didn’t want to be here anymore… I heard footsteps coming closer and they lifted my head up to face them. Draco looked at me, searching my eyes to see if Blaise was telling the truth or not. 

“Is it true?” He whispered. 

“Draco…” I whispered and let a tear fall. 

“Did that bloody idiot break up with you on your birthday?” He asked with a growl. 

“Yes…” I answered quietly. I saw Draco tense and he grabbed my hand. He pulled me with him to his dorm room and shut the door. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, not facing me. 

“I-I wanted to…” I answered. 

“Then why didn’t you!? I’m you’re best friend, Y/N! Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” He shouted and I looked at him with wide eyes. He looked angry, upset, and hurt all at once. 

“Beacuse you were with your new bloody girlfriend! You and Pansy have been all over each other since my birthday! I was so excited to spend time with you at my party, but you were all over her! I came back in after he broke up with me and you were with her! Blaise was there and he’s the one that made my birthday better. He’s the one that helped me forget about it for the night. All because my blood best friend was busy with his new girlfriend!” I shouted at him and he looked at me with wide eyes. The two of us were quiet and I turned around, I couldn’t look at him right now. I heard Draco walk closer to me and gently placed a hand on my shoulder. He turned me to look at him and he looked so sad and guilty. He gently wiped away my tears. 

“Pansy and I aren’t dating.” He said and I furrowed my brows at him. 

“W-What?” I asked. 

“It was her stupid idea and I was an idiot to think it would work.” He said and I was even more confused. 

“What are you talking about?” I asked. Draco sighed and caressed my cheek. 

“Pansy said if we pretended to date then you would get jealous and you’d break up with that stupid Hufflepuff.” He answered and my eyes widened slightly. 

“W-Why would you want me to be jealous?” I whispered. 

“Because I was losing you to those stupid Gryffindores and that bloody Hufflepuff, and I… I wanted my Y/N back.” He said, slightly hesitant. 

“I felt like I was losing you, Dray…” I said, choosing to ignore his hesitation for now. 

“I’m so sorry, love. I should have been there for you…” He said, resting his forehead on mine. I hugged him tightly and took a deep breath. His smell is still so comforting to me. 

“Please come back to me, love.” He whispered. 

“You’ve always had me, Dray…” I whispered back. Draco clung to me tightly. We stayed like that for a moment before moving to lay on his bed. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked and I shook my head. 

“I’m bloody exhausted, Dray, can we just lay here, please?” I asked and he smiled. 

“Of course, love, whatever you want.” He said and kissed my forehead. I smiled and snuggled into him. This is just what I needed. I felt my eyes slowly start to close and felt the most relaxed I’ve felt in months. I guess I just needed my Draco back.

Tag list: @psamathegoesrawr @kkmstblog @nox-ceur @nighttimemoonlover @aactuaaltraash @solacestyles @smoooore @wonderstruks @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @in-slytherin-we-trust @accio-rogers @sambucky8 @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @vanessa-kom-skaikru @impulse-anchor @psamathegoesrawr @nighttimemoonlover @liz-owl @dracoswhvre​

[allycat319]

Unlikely Affection Chapter 13: What Just Happened?**

I ran down the empty corridor, slowing only when I had reached Severus. “Professor Snape.” I panted and he stopped walking and glanced over his shoulder at me. “Could I have a word with you?” I asked as seriously as I could while trying to catch my breath.

Severus looked around the hallway, making sure there were no people in sight. “Do you not think you have said enough?” He was flat as he spoke and I couldn't blame him with how I acted earlier.

“I’m not asking as your…whatever. I am asking as your student assistant.” I whispered and he nodded in the direction of the spiral staircase leading down to the dungeons “After you.” I thanked him and made my way to his office door.

After he opened it, I stepped in and he followed. Swishing his wand to close the door at the same time as he took a seat at his desk.

“What is it that you would like to discuss, Miss Astrill?” I looked at him a bit confused by him using formalities while we were alone and I think he must have seen my demeanor change and he spoke up again. “Are we not having this meeting in the capacity of teacher/student?” I nodded and he gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

I took a seat and inhaled deeply, “Firstly, I want to apologize for my conduct this afternoon. I was frustrated and I know that is no excuse but I should not have spoken to you in that manner both as my professor and my…companion?.” His face showed no emotion so I decided to continue speaking. “While I was meeting with Professor McGonagall earlier, she said it might be possible for you to take my job as your assistant into account, and that may get you to reconsider your decision.” He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow.

“Are you quite finished?” He spoke firmly and my heart sunk, mentally preparing myself for him to tell me no…again.

I nodded and he huffed. “I spoke with Minerva at dinner. She has also asked me to reconsider my decision…She seems to think you are capable of the strenuous coursework. So I have decided to reconsider… If, and only if you make perfect marks on every test until the end of term…Will I allow you into my N.E.W.T class.” My heart skipped a beat and I smiled at him, we only had three tests left and I knew with my study habits, I would ace them with no problem.

I was more than happy with the fact that he was willing to let me into the class, but I had to just make sure that he wasn’t changing his mind because of the fact we are sleeping together. “Not that I am not incredibly grateful that you chose to reconsider, because of course, I am…But I can't help but to ask, this isn't because of us, is it?” I waved my hand between the two of us, “That decision would not cause any problem with us… at least on my part, even though I was angry earlier…It was more at you as my teacher than as my…you know.”

“Well, that's a relief.” I sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Could we stop speaking so professionally now?” I asked and he smiled for the first time.

He scoffed “No, that decision had nothing to do with our relationship. Minerva convinced me to reconsider, it had nothing to do with this conversation in the slightest. I had already made my decision before you insisted on this ‘meeting’.”

Severus stood from his chair and walked around his desk, stopping when he was standing in front of me. He held out his hand and when I took it, he pulled me from my chair and held me close to him. I relaxed into his embrace and wrapped my arms around his middle, squeezing him slightly. “I am sorry for how I acted this afternoon,” I mumbled into his chest. He kissed the top of my head,

“You are very predictable Little Star, I knew you would be angry with me after your meeting with Minerva…It was just a matter of when you would burst through my door.”

“Would you let me make it up to you?” I asked, looking up at him through my eyelashes.

He raised an eyebrow, “And how exactly do you intend to do that?”

I played with the buttons of his cassock and raised myself on my toes so I could whisper in his ear, “Sit down at the desk and I’ll show you.” I finished my statement by nibbling gently on his earlobe.

He groaned but complied and walked over to his chair, taking a seat and staring at me.

I walked over to him and knelt down so I was situated between his legs. His head fell back when I ran my hands from his knees to his thighs, squeezing his growing hardness through his trousers.

“I've thought about this, you know.” I winked at Severus as I pulled him out of the confines of his dark woolen trousers. “Hiding under your desk while you grade parchments, relieves some of your…stress.” I wiggled my eyebrows and licked a long stripe from the base of him to the tip. His thighs tensed and his teeth pressed together with a hiss.

“You are going to be the death of me–.” Whatever he was going to say was cut off when I took him fully into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks and sucking him like my life depended on it. His hand flew to my hair and he tangled his fingers through my dark tresses. I knew that Severus being as closed off as he was, this would probably not going to be a regular occurrence so I decided to completely blow his mind while I had the chance.

I continued to suck him, his quiet groans were the most erotic thing I have ever heard. His hand tightened around my hair and I could tell by the way he was thrusting his hips up to meet my mouth that he was close so I doubled down my efforts. I took him so deeply into my mouth that his tip hit the back of my throat and I moaned around him, creating a sexy vibration around his cock.

“So close.” He muttered, “Good girl, don’t stop…” He trailed off with a groan. It only took a few more passes up and down his manhood before he gripped my hair tightly and exploded down my throat with a low growl. I, of course, swallowed every last drop and pulled away, smiling up at him.

“Consider yourself forgiven.” He smirked once he caught his breath.

***The Final Task***

“Jellybean!” My grandfather yelled in my direction as I tried and failed to pass the section of stands where the teachers and ministry officials were seated.

I gripped Edwins' arm tightly, “He is just going to yell it again…It is best that you just go sit with him.” He whispered and I groaned, looking towards the stands where my grandfather was sitting. My heart leaped when I noticed who he was sitting beside…My dungeon bat.

Edwin and I broke away and I walked up the wooden stands to greet my grandfather. “There is my Jellybean!” He enveloped me in his large arms. When he finally released me he gestured to the seat beside Severus. “Sit! Before the festivities start, tell me about your exams!”

I sat down in the empty seat beside Severus and my grandfather took his seat on the other side of me. “Exams went well…O’s and E’s all around.” I smiled at my grandfather and his face lit up with pride. I always did revel in that as a child. When I would do something that made him proud, his chubby, bearded face swelled with the biggest smile and his eyes lit up as though I was the most special thing in the world.

I was continuing my talk with my grandfather and trying my best not to acknowledge Severus beside me. However, the fact that Granddad was insisting on using my childhood nickname so much was starting to embarrass me to no end. “I don’t want to hear a word about this later,” I said mentally, hoping my lover was listening in on my thoughts which he was because he smirked subtly.

After a few moments of catching up, it was time for the task to start. The crowds cheered for their favorite champions until Dumbledore amplified his voice with his wand, encouraging us all to be silent. After explaining the task, the cannon was shot and the champions began their trek into the dark maze.

Granddad spent most of the time we were sitting around waiting for one of the champions to appear talking to the Minister for Magic about the annual summer gala we would be throwing. I sat in silence, every once in a while sending Severus a message in my head, and in return, he would throw me acknowledgments to whatever I said that were so subtle anyone else would miss them.

We sat for almost two hours until something happened…Harry appeared and the crowds erupted with cheers which were killed quickly when everyone realized that Harry wasn't alone. He had apparated back with the body of Cedric Diggory.

My grandfather stood quickly, rushing down the stairs to the landing where Harry was clutching Cedric’s body and sobbing hysterically. I was already standing when I felt Severus’ hand on my arm, applying enough pressure, I knew he wanted me to stay where I was.

Edwin ran over to me through the sea of people, he looked pale and terrified. “What happened?” I asked when he released me from the hug. “Harry said ‘you know who’ is back…That he is the one that killed Cedric and Harry escaped.”

My grandfather ran to me, enveloping me in a bone-crushing hug. “Granddad, is it true? Is he back?” I asked and he just shushed me quietly. He pulled away and kissed my forehead, “I will explain everything when you are home and safe. For now, go back to the castle where it is safe.” I nodded

Edwin and I walked to the castle together, the realization that ‘He who must not be named’ was back and now the possibility of a second wizarding war being on the horizon had everyone shaken and the walk to the back to the castle was silent even with the multitude of students traveling at the same time…eerily silent.

Edwin and I made our way down the stands. I knew I needed to talk to Severus, I looked for him as the stands started to clear but he was nowhere to be found. I decided that I would go to him in the morning, he would probably be in Dumbledore’s office all night discussing what to do since a student died.

[dreamingofep]

Strangers in the Crowd pt. 7

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No, just another one of my delusional tantasies.

Prompt: You and your best friend are on are annual girls trip and go to see Elvis at the International.

Little did you know this would be a show you'll never forget. Fem!Reader

TW: SMUTTT, cussing, fingering (f. receiving) teasing/ tension, use of handcuffs, the usual really dirty stuff.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: Hi lovlies! We’re moving along with these two and it’s heating up 🤭 Thanks for all the love this story has gotten. Next part of going to get a bit more serious so enjoy the fun now😝 Sorry for any spelling mistakes or overall goofs.

Feel free to message me or comment what you think!

The week couldn't drag on any slower even if it tried. All you could think about was getting to see Elvis and be in his arms again. Throughout the week, you planned your outfits for each day down to the most minuscule detail. You knew how much Elvis loved to dress to the nines no matter the occasion and you didn’t want to disappoint him in any way.

You tried on all the outfits in front of Cicily and she helped you veto some of them out of contention. She was so excited for you and a bit jealous too. She hadn’t heard a word from Jerry this entire time and it was ticking her off. But she tried to not let her bitterness towards him ruin the excitement of your trip.

She helped you pack everything in your suitcase and her eyes widened when she noticed all the sheer, lacy nightgowns you snuck in there. You turn beet red when she sees them and teases you that you probably won’t even have enough time to even put one on for him with how sexually needy you both are.

Friday finally came and you had to convince your professor that you had a family emergency to attend to and needed to miss class Friday morning. He graciously understood and gave you that day's work early to complete and turn in early. Around 10 am, a car pulled up in front of your apartment and it was Jerry driving. You rush out and meet him on the sidewalk. It was great seeing such a familiar face and he pulls you in for a hug. He gives you an uncertain face, “uh… is Cicily home?” He asks shakily. You scoff at him, “you’re lucky she’s not. She’s pissed at you,” you jab. He presses his hand to his forehead and mutters something to himself.

“I’ll fix this. But in the meantime, you ready to go?”

The biggest smile you can possibly give grows across your face and nod you your head. Jerry opens the car door for you and you both we off.

*

The car gets to the airport and a small charter jet is standing on the runway waiting for you. You buckle into your seat and try to calm your restless nerves. It was only an hour and a half flight from Dallas to Memphis but it felt like a lifetime you were on that plane. Finally, you land and get chauffeured into another luxurious car to drive to the gates of Graceland.

Pulling up to the iconic music note front gates, you’re in awe. You had only ever seen pictures but the way the gates looked you knew there was no one else living here but the king of rock and roll. The car taxis along the long winding driveway until it stops right in front of the Corinthian columns and the two lion statues guarding the steps leading to the house.

The sight of it takes your breath away and then, you see it. The tall, perfect, greek like sculpture of a man standing in the doorway with the biggest smile on his face. The teal button up shirt he has on makes his eyes pop, and the multicolored silk scarf hanging from his neck has you plotting how you’re gonna rip it off of him and suck on that beautiful neck. Your heart gallops as the car finally comes to a stop and you rush out of the car, up the steps, and into his arms.

You squeal when you brace into him and sink into his warm body. The woodsy scent of him lingers in your nose and you sigh at how much you missed it. Suddenly, he picks you up underneath your arms and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. He places one hand on the nape of your neck and the other on your ass, not caring who might be watching this spectacle. He presses his soft plump lips to yours and they crash over and over into each other like waves meeting the sand. The amount of energy coming off of Elvis is dizzying, and your hands tangle in his fluffy hair, trying to pull yourself back down on earth.

You let out a sigh as you feel his tongue enter your mouth and swirl around yours. He bites your lip softly as he starts to break away and looks at you in awe. He placed his hand on your face and rubs his thumb there.

“God I’ve missed you,” He whispers. You smile coyly at him and place a kiss on his nose.

“Let’s get inside honey. Let me show you around.” He gently places you down on the ground and opens the door behind him.

The first sight of the foyer takes your breath away again. The blue carpet and the white staircase leading to the upstairs look like something out of a dream. It’s all too perfect, every detail from the floor to ceiling was all so intentional and one hundred percent Elvis. One of his maids greets you at the door asking if you’d like to take off your jacket. You graciously accept and let the warm trench coat slip off your shoulders.

You suddenly get a chill that runs down along your spine and realize you only get these keen feelings when Elvis is looking at you intensely. You turn around as you slip the other sleeve off of your arm and see Elvis giving you fire eyes. His eyes roam along your shoulders, down to your breasts, and back up to your face, almost as if he’s making a mental note of how your dress conforms to every curve and dip on your body and tattooing it in his brain. You dart your eyes away, unable to handle how fierce his eyes look, and don’t want to crumble at his feet right here.

You look back up at him and raise your eyebrows at him, “whatcha lookin' at hmm?” He hums softly and roughly pushes you against him with his hand on your lower back.

“Just lookin’ at my next meal,” he growls. You stare at him shocked, knowing his maid heard him as she walked away to hang up your coat.

“You are everything but subtle hmm?” You tease.

“This is my house I can do and say whatever I want,” he says mused, “like this,” and you feel his hand smack your ass hard. The sound of the slap was probably heard through the bottom floor of the house and your cheeks instantly turn red.

“Oh my god! You are insane! ” You squeal followed by uncontrollable laughter.

He laughs too at your shock and overall innocence. He grabs your hand and takes you to the living room and shows you his home. He’s like a little boy with his excitement pointing out all his awards and all the special mementos he’s collected throughout the years. The house is buzzing with activity and guys that work for him are running around the house or just hanging out. You wonder if it’s always this busy in the house or if it’s because Elvis is back home and on break from Vegas.

He takes you outside and shows you the rest of the property. His land was beautiful and the trees made it feel like you were somewhere off into the countryside and not in Memphis. He convinces you to ride the horses with him around the yard and you love it. You both ride all around the property and race each other. Elvis of course won every race, but that’s only because you let him. Another day you’ll show him how you actually know how to ride a horse and never lose a race.

The sun starts to set and you both go back inside the house. There’s one room he hasn’t shown you yet; his bedroom. You were nervous and excited to be in the most private spaces that belonged to him.

“Can I go see your bedroom?” You ask bluntly.

He nods his head and leads you up the staircase. At the top of the staircase to the right, is two double doors and he opens the door. The room is completely dark until he puts on the light, just like his suite in Vegas.

You step in and the entire space is cozy and warm. The large king-sized bed takes up a huge chunk of the room. Your fingertips run along the velvety blanket placed on the bed and shiver. Every fixture is gold-plated and gleams each time you look at them.

Elvis places his hand on your shoulder and you reach up for a kiss. Your body suddenly craves him in such a way that you're not sure what has come over you. You press your hips into him, making you groan at the needed contact. His hands roam freely along your body, soaking up every bit of you. He pauses and looks at you, “you’re so needy aren’t you?” He grins pleased with himself.

“Yes honey, please,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Hmm, I know baby I know. But it’s time for dinner. You’re gonna have to wait a little bit longer,” he teases and spanks you on the ass again.

You let out a disappointed sigh and plead for him.

“Please, I can’t wait much longer. I’ve been waiting for weeks,” you whine as you place his hand on your throbbing core.

He makes a low hum, feeling the heat coming off of you.

“I know you can. You’ll be good and listen. If you can make it through dinner and wait patiently, I promise to get you back up here and fuck you senseless.”

You squeeze your eyes closed and agree with his antics.

Elvis leads you back downstairs to the dining room where everyone is sitting down waiting for him to arrive. The food laid out on the table could be confused for a Thanksgiving day meal. Every side dish would imaginable was made and a roasted ham was in the center of the table. Everyone greets Elvis and Jerry to the right of the head of the table and he pulls out the chair for him. You scan the rest of the table and not another seat is left empty.

Where am I gonna sit, you think.

In a flash, Elvis sits down and pulls you onto his lap and you let out a yelp. Everyone at the table looks away trying not to stare at the scene he’s making and try not to make it uncomfortable for you. You squirm slightly as he has a tight grip on your hips.

“Guess you’ll have to sit with me,” he jokes and everyone around the table laughs with him. “Be a good girl and sit still,” he coos devilishly into your ear. Goosebumps form on your arms and you adjust one last time on his lap getting comfortable. His hand scrunches up the back of your dress and lifts it from underneath you so you’re no longer sitting it and pools loosely around your hips and down his leg.

You grab your place setting and put the cloth napkin over your lap. Your eyes wander and look at how Elvis is sitting; legs spread wide apart, almost straddling the chair and showing a sense of dominance and claim to the whole room. You; sitting on his right leg keeping your legs crossed and holding back the urge to grind on his big strong thigh right here and now. You feel the need for him grow inside you and feel your panties getting wet.

His cook served you and Elvis a plate and you start to nibble at the delicious food that was prepared. Elvis places his napkin on his left leg and picks up his fork and starts to eat too, never taking his hand off your hip. Everyone was carrying conversation around the table and you were trying to engage in each topic. Some of the guys would ask you questions and ask for your takes on things. They were all really nice and inviting and you didn’t feel as awkward as you thought being surrounded by a bunch of guys.

Halfway through eating, some of the table disperses leaving only a few left at the end of the table and you and Elvis at the front of it. Elvis places his hand on the inside of your thigh and uncrosses your legs, spreading your legs apart and then readjusting the napkin on your lap. You tense up as you can feel the heat coming off of him. You turn your head to look over at him accusingly.

“You remember what I taught you that first night with me? Of how to stay quiet? Let’s see if you remember,” he smirks.

You claw at his forearm, knowing you won’t be able to keep it together, especially in front of all these people.

“Please Elvis I can’t. Your daddy is right there, I can’t do this in front of all of them,” you whine softly. His lip curls into that classic devilish grin and shakes his head at you, “no baby, I wanna feel how bad you need me right here, right now,” he whispers.

It doesn’t take much for you to agree with him and you feel his hand make its way down to the hem of your dress and back up inside your upper thigh with the napkin covering his hand. You feel the rush of relief as he is making contact with your flesh. He rubs circles dangerously close to your core and you feel the rush of heat travel there. He loves to tease and watch as you hold your breath as his hands travel up closer to your pussy, then stop and run his hand back down your leg. His skillful fingers play with your lace panties which are getting more soaked by the second. Elvis places soft kisses on your earlobe making you sigh into him.

Finally, his fingers reach your clit and you almost jump out of the seat. He puts more pressure on your hip to still you and rubs your clit more, making your wetness seep through your panties. You take short, shallow breaths through your nose and use your fork to play with whatever food is left on your plate. You keep your head down to keep anyone from seeing how flustered you’re becoming.

His fingers push aside your lace panties and your sopping wet folds devour his finger. He breathes in sharply when he feels how much wetness has collected there. He goes in for a kiss on your earlobe and he moans.

“Feeling so good baby. Stay nice and wet for me and I’ll give you all of this,” he motions to the napkin placed on his leg. He slides it down and there you see the hard imprint of his cock running down his leg. You grip his arm tighter and your core clenches at the thought of having him.

He then slips his long finger deep inside your weeping core and you let out a slow sigh. You needed him more than you thought, this amount of attention is pulling you to the edge. He pumps and curls his finger inside you with the smallest motions but nevertheless drives you absolutely wild. You have to swallow the moans you want to make for him and try not to move your hips.

Suddenly, he slips another finger inside you and you gasp and cover it up with a small cough as though you were clearing your throat. He continues to curl and prod inside your wet heat leading you to the point of no return.

You turn your body to him as though you’re going to hug him and claw at his back. You press your face against his and whisper in his ear, “honey, I-I-I can’t do this. I need you right now.” You plead fiercely.

Elvis gives you a soft kiss on your ear and hums lightly, “mmm good baby. Fall apart for me right here then,” he tantalizes.

He pushes right on your G-spot and your whole body tenses. He keeps curling and putting more pressure on your spot that’s going to send you flying and you press your lips together as tight as you can so you don’t let out the scream you’re holding back. Your coil in your belly snaps and your walls squeeze his fingers. He sighs and keeps his motions at a vigorous pace and keeps you coming.

You place your hand on the length of him and give it a light squeeze as you’re riding out your orgasm.

Your wetness leaks out of you and onto his leg. He gasps and you lightly rock your hips forward. Every time he curled and pushed up into you, more liquid came out and tears began to form in your eyes.

Your hand starts to rub his cock in need and frustration. You need him to let you buck wild on him and get this insatiable need for him to be fulfilled. Your body buzzed and felt like it was floating through space. He tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses your cheek softly and tenderly.

“Fuck did so good baby. But you’ve made an absolute mess on me. I don’t know how we’re going to get up without some questioning stares…” he trails off looking down and removing the napkin on your lap to show the slick mess staining his black pants.

Your brain races and tries to think of any possible ways to get out of here and upstairs.

You glance over the table and finally realize what you have to do. You grab your glass of water and go in to take a sip. You suddenly lose grip on it and let it slip out of your hands and onto both of your laps. You both gasp and everyone looks over in your direction and stares with concern in their eyes.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. The glass slipped I’m sorry for the mess,” you look at Elvis innocently.

The fire in his eyes ignite and he clenched his jaw and gives you a small smirk. You found the perfect exit strategy.

“Excuse us,” he says shortly.

Without saying anything else, he picks you up off his lap and is storming out of the dining room, dragging you behind him. You try to keep up with his long legs and reach the doors to the bedroom. He pulls you into the room sharply and closes the doors with force and locks the top bolt of the door.

He turns around and the flame in his eyes is palpable. You stand there motionless, heart racing out of your chest, and waiting for his next move.

“That was a clever move little girl,” he hisses. “You’re just that eager to have that pussy of yours ruined hmm?”

You bite your lips and shake your head at him.

“I mean, I could have just left you sitting there wet. I think my plan worked perfectly,” you say obstinately.

His jaw clenches and makes his way to you in slow deliberate strides, staring at you with the most spellbinding look. The stillness of the room puts you that much more on edge. The only thing you can hear is the sound of your short breaths and his. The closeness of him makes you feel on fire and you ache for him.

You place your hand on his crotch, putting pressure there as you hold onto his heavy balls then drag your hand slowly down his length.

“Make me yours again, please. Anyway, you want to,” you plead into his chest, kissing the skin that is exposed from his button-up shirt.

“Mmm, look at you just begging for it my poor baby,” he pauses, “we’re gonna try something new today.” He says, his voice low and controlled. You freeze and feel a rush of nerves run through your body.

“Oh? Like what?” You ask inquisitively.

“You’ll see soon enough. Get undressed,” he commands.

You slowly slide the straps off your shoulders and pull the dress down off your breasts, shimmying it off the rest of your body. You hook your thumbs on the sides of your panties and turn around, bending over as you take them off your body. You hear Elvis moan and you turn back around to face him.

“Good, listening so far. Get in the middle of the bed now and wait for me,” he says sternly.

You nod your head and crawl over to the middle of the bed and watch as he gets undressed as well. You can’t help but stare at his perfect body and wonder what he has planned. He goes around to the side of the bed and reaches into the nightstand.

You hear the clanking of metal and look over and see Elvis showcasing a pair of handcuffs dangling from his two fingers. Your eyes grow wide and you look at him bewildered.

“I’ve been wanting to try these on you. Do you think you can be completely submissive to me? Are you okay with letting me fuck you how I’ve been dying to? Make you all mine,” he growls. You nod your head in agreement, wanting nothing more than for him to have his way with you. Your body feels on anxious, almost like the very first night you both got together. In reality, you have no idea what to expect and will be completely at his beck and call again.

He closes one of the handcuffs over your wrist, making it snug but not too tight where it’s uncomfortable. In the headboard of his bed, behind some of the pillows, there’s a thick fabric loop attached to it. He feeds through the other side of the handcuff and attaches the other cuff to your wrist. You involuntarily wiggle once you hear the ratcheting noise and realize you are completely at his mercy, more than you ever have been.

He gets on the bed and gets between your trembling legs. He then spreads them open and rubs your wetness with his thumb, moaning when he feels how much has pooled there. Suddenly he pulls your legs on top of his shoulders with a grunt and you gasp.

He looks down at you hungry as you watch him spit in his hand and coat his member in his slick.

Oh fuck…

He moves his hand a few times on his cock and lines himself up with your entrance.

“I’ve been dreaming about taking you like this,” he growls through his teeth and pushes his length all the way inside you, making you cry out.

Your body is starved for him but wasn’t ready to have him take you like this. Pain and pleasure seers through your body as he takes you hard and fast. His hips plow into you causing you to moan with each thrust. Both of your hands ball into fists and desperately wish you could run your fingernails down his back.

“You better be quiet honey or the whole house is going to hear what a whore you’re being,” he groans in your ear, swiveling his hips into you hitting the most sensitive spot deep inside you.

“Ah, Elvis!” You cry out.

“Sshhh…” he says as he pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, muffling your moans and cries.

“Suck on them like I taught you,” he bellows.

You squeeze your eyes shut and swirl your tongue around his long fingers and suck, causing a satisfied moan from him.

He places his forearm around the tops of your thighs and uses that as leverage as he continues to fuck you. Your moans escape your mouth and beg for him to keep going. He places his free hand on the loop holding the cuffs and you stare up at him, looking so powerful, so focused on giving you the most amount of pleasure you can handle.

Not having any control kills you, but you can’t help but love the way he’s taking you. It felt like he was trying to make up for lost time and prove to you how much he missed you.

The way your bodies move together, makes it feel like you two are made for each other. He knows all the ways to get the most pleasure out of you and make you feel like you’re on a cloud. You feel that all too familiar feeling of your impending orgasm. He sees it in your eyes as he stuffs you to the hilt with his cock.

“Cum for me,” he smirks.

Your reach for Elvis’ wrist as you feel your body give into his.

Your orgasm rips through you and cry out for him, not caring who is going to hear. He moans with you as you tightly squeeze on his length. His movements start to get drastically more wild and out of control and based on the sounds that he’s making, he’s ready to come too.

“I’m gonna make you all mine again honey, just like you wanted,” he says through his teeth.

You beg for him and your eyes roll in the back of your head.

You feel him pulse inside you, coating your walks with his thick seed. He grabs a fist full of your hair and plows his hips into you with long, gliding strokes, claiming you from the inside.

Your eyes well up with tears, so overstimulated by all of the events of the day, you finally got your release and your body tingles because of it.

He pulls out of you with a grunt and takes your legs off his shoulders. He showers your body in kisses, pressing his lips on every inch of your weak body.

“Fuck I missed you,” he whispers in your neck. You push your neck into his lips and hum in agreement. He reaches over to the nightstand and picks up the little cuff key and unlocks them, freeing your sore wrists.

Your arms feel weak from the lack of blood flow and you roll your wrists around a few times to get the feeling back in them.

“I missed you too,” you say as you cling to his shoulders.

“I hope that was worth the wait,” he says cutely.

“Mmm, you have no idea.”

•

•

•

Tagging 🖤 : @powerofelvis @plasticfantasticlover @burninlovebutler @kendralavon7 @ab4eva @cryingabtab @peaceloveelvis @returntoelvis @woundmetender @thatbanditqueen @kaitaesupremacy @18lkpeters

@lookingforrainbows @presleysdarling @marriedtopresley @missmaywemeetagain @literally-just-elvis-fics @flwrs4aust @prayerstopresley @kiankiwi @elvisbf @austinswhitewolf @tkappi @thatgirlarabella @arianatheangel-girl @myradiaz @homer1960 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @cinnamonandmercury @ohjustpeachy @presleyenterprise @elvispresleygf @eliseinmemphis @j-v-9-2 @sillybookmarks @sournatromanoff @elvispresleyxoxo @presleysdarling @generoustreemystic

[bountydroid]

Special Delivery

Professor Aesop Sharp x reader

Description: Y/n is the designated Hosgmeade delivery girl. Desperate to stay in the area after graduating from Hogwarts, she traveled the countryside to make things easier for the shop owners. Although, her favorite deliveries go to her old professor, who she has been harboring a crush on for years.

Notes: This is my first real fanfic so please give me feedback! I decided to take the lack of Sharp fics into my own hands.

Part 2

"This delivery of Invisibility Potion goes to Professor Sharp, apparently, this week's lesson for his 6th years is on invisibility, and making them all himself would've been a hassle. He wants each student to have a sample to start with...." Parry Pippin drones on and on but y/n stopped listening as soon as she heard Professor Sharp. She loved potions class when she attended Hogwarts and started to harbor feeling for the stoic professor during her 7th year.

"Of course! I will do it right away, sir!" She interrupts, eager to start the walk to the castle.

Pippin eyes her suspiciously but eventually hands her the potions. "alright, just be careful. There has been an increase in poachers around the forest. Don't wander off the road."

"Yes, Mr. Pippin!" She chirps. Quickly showing the potions in her bag.

Once her bag was practically overflowing with potions, she haphazardly threw the bag over her shoulder, making the shop proprietor grimace as she hurried out the door. Y/n likes to count the lanterns on the way to Hogwarts, a quirk she picked up when she was a 4th year. It helps her know precisely how far left she has to go to reach her old home. She wasn't particularly good at anything during her school years. She wasn't dumb but wasn't exceptionally bright either. That is how she ended up graduating with zero prospects and a worry that she would have to leave her parents in Hogsmeade Valley. Thankfully, with a bit of persistent annoyance from her, she convinced the shopkeepers to let her help out so she could afford to stay at home and help her parents with the bills.

Finally, y/n steps onto Hogwarts grounds. She smiled to herself as she watched all the children playing outside on this lovely sunny day. Being in Scotland, there isn't a lot of sun so everyone likes to take advantage of when there is. She smiles as she remembers all the times she played Summoner's Court during class with Professor Ronen.

"So many stairs," Y/n grumbles, holding on tight to her bag straps as she makes her way to the potions classroom. She pokes her head in just enough to see.

"crap" she thinks to herself, "he's in the middle of class". Before she can make her exit, Professor Sharp's eyes meet her. He softens a bit, having previously been giving a student detention for snarky comments.

"Miss L/n come in." He states as he turns to grab something from his desk drawer.

"I am sorry professor I did not mean to interrupt," she says shyly as she shuffles her way to his desk.

"Well, it's too late now y/n" he jests.

Y/n blushes, both from embarrassment and the use of her first name. "I am very sorry, professor." she squeaks out.

He softly smiled at her, letting her know she was not mad at her. Y/n smiled back, her cheeks still rosy from the encounter.

"Come. We will put the potions in this cupboard." Professor Sharp said putting his hand on her lower back to usher her to the corner of the room.

Y/n was acutely aware of the whispering students watching them as she starts to unpack her bag. Her hands were shaking as he watches her, aware of how the students are making her uncomfortable.

"The next person to make a noise gets detention!" He said suddenly in a stern voice. His eyes never leaving y/n.

They unpack the rest of her bag in silence, sharing soft brushes of each other's hands and small smiles as they worked. "I am sorry about them." He finally says.

This startles her, used to the comfortable silence she says "Nothing to be sorry about professor, I was a student not too long ago myself." she tried her best to give a convincing smile. "I am flattered that they would think you would feel that way about me." Y/n says before she realized what exactly came out of her mouth. She froze in her spot as the realization washed over her, turning her face completely red.

"I would think it should be the other way around, don't you? The idea that a young woman like yourself would be interested in an old bat like me?" He whispers, attempting to keep the conversation away from nosey students.

Y/n feels like she is stuck in place, completely shocked by his statement. "You are not an old bat!" She says a little too loudly, turning a few heads. She looks at him shyly, only to see him smiling down at her. "I just mean that you shouldn't talk down about yourself. You are wonderful, professor."

He grimaces "You know, I am not your professor anymore. You do not need to call me that."

"Sorry. It's a habit." she says as she finishes unloading her backpack. "Sorry again for the disturbance."

She starts to make her way to the door, but she stops right in front of it. "I was wondering, actually -" She stops herself from finishing. "Nevermind" y/n says as she rushes out the door.

"Y/n wait!" Sharp shouts at her as he follows her out the door, as fast as his bad leg would let him. "What is it?"

"It was a stupid idea don't worry about it." She babbles, embarrassed at her own outburst.

"Please." He says, grabbing onto her shoulder.

"I guess I was just going to ask if you would ever like to go out for a butterbeer?" Y/n says, barely above a whisper, staring down at her shoes.

"Y/n look at me," Sharp says sternly. She reluctantly meets his eyes as he says "I would love to."

[theangelsaid]

crimson - soogyu

! nsfw content

wc: 2.7k

warnings: dom!soobin, sub!beomgyu, teasing (?), dry humping, drunk sex (not really), there's no more warnings this is like... really basic

no proofread !

i tried my best (4 julita loml)

🫀

when soobin was paired with beomgyu as his partner for an uni project he didn't really knew what to do. doing the assignment with him wasn't the problem, actually they got along pretty well and started talking a couple months ago when beomgyu asked for help, completely lost at the sight of so many people - none nearly close as nervous as him-, first day of class.

beomgyu's voice was calm, almost monotonous if you didnt pay enough attention, but of course soobin did.

a few days and he was capable of hearing his voice shaking when he tried to explain something and couldn't find the right words, and noticing how his lips slightly twitched upwards before making a mean joke -what soobin ended up realizing was the way of showing he liked him-.

beomgyu was a good friend, even if he talked nonstop soobin didn't seem to care, he was a great listener and in some way beomgyu's takes always made some weird point.

his company was strangely enjoyable besides his loud personality, totally different from him, an introvert who preferred to study alone and quiet hangouts at the park.

so, when professor kim assigned the groups, he wasn't worried about working with beomgyu, in fact, he's really cool to work with, straightforward, dedicated, and never hesitated to say when soobin had any shitty ideas.

the problem.

the problem was soobin couldn't stop thinking about him since that night.

they'd just passed one of the most important exams, and beomgyu wanted to celebrate.

to soobin, celebrating wasn't much more than playing video games with his roommate and eating his favorites snacks; but playing resident evil wasn't part of his friend plan at all.

that was how he ended up with a very happy beomgyu in a crowded bar -that seemed more like a small club to soobin- getting drinks he didn't even tried before.

green light was bathing the place, walls with abstract paintings and neon letters, small tables with bottles and cans were occupied by people laughing and talking with their respective friend groups, along with a typical wooden bar and a small dance floor.

this combination was kind of overwhelming to soobin, he actually liked bigger clubs, where nobody can notice him because of the large crowd, he didn't prefer it though, his bed would've sounded nice if beomgyu wasn't good company and practically begged to come with him.

an hour hadn't passed and their table was full of shot glasses. soobin realized he was drunk when he asked beomgyu if he was wearing lip gloss, and then realized beomgyu was even more wasted when the words "you look nice tonight" came out of his mouth.

it was hot, stuffed with sweaty people, and a mainstream song barely let him hear his own voice; beomgyu was yelling something about how he needs to relax and stop being a boring bitch (apparently a nice compliment and a few drinks can't make beomgyu less hostile).

the contrast between this version of his friend and the one he saw in uni was completely different, one was capable of being extremely convincing in such a charming way that with a few minutes talking with professor kim he got to change an assignment date, and the other one stole a little kid's ballon at the park and ran away.

soobin wasn't completely immune to his charm, in fact, he was so spaced out that he didn't even notice beomgyu now next to him, one side of his body on soobin's like his glued.

he started to calm down, getting used to the noise, peculiar smells and the beverage burning down his throat, until beomgyu's breath touched his neck.

"soobin," his voice was breathy and felt almost wet on his skin, his body froze. "i thought you were the weak one but you're spinning right now. " lips touching his neck, probably involuntarily, it almost felt wrong.

"okay i need to take you home now."soobin grabbed him effortlessly, catching beomgyu's waist just in case he falls.

the thing was, he was drunk too.

"you're soooo boring, did i told you that already?," beomgyu's voice sounds lower when he's drunk, that would've been kind of hot if he wasn't stepping on his own feet and almost throwing both of them to the ground.

"yeah.. beomgyu can you please try to walk properly i'm trying to get us out of here," soobin tried to sound annoyed, he hoped he did, because he couldn't thought of anything else more than how slim beomgyu's waist felt on his hands.

once they were outside, soobin stopped and told him they're were going to his dorm since it wasn't that far, that's the less he can do as a friend, right?

after a taxi and beomgyu's teasing about how he probably had anime posters on his walls, soobin tried to open the door with trembling hands and a really fuzzy head. at the bar he was okay, he's usually good tolerating alcohol, but considering the mysterious drinks beomgyu bought him he wasn't so sure anymore. he just wanted to sleep and try not to think of the hangover this would cost nor beomgyu's waist. just when his keys slipped from his hands and touched the ground he started feeling his hair getting wet. it was raining. he picked up the keys while beomgyu told him to hurry and that if he picked up the flu he'll kill him in some atrocious way.

at the dorm, soaked and head still spinning, soobin's heart skipped a bit. what had him so nervous?

"can you hand me a towel or something please?,"beomgyu's voice brought him back to reality.

"o-oh yes, yes sorry, i'll bring you dry clothes too," soobin left to what it appeared to be a small closet.

beomgyu's started to look around. in fact, soobin didn't have any anime posters on his walls but a couple of pictures and portraits on wooden furniture, it seemed to be him and his brother, other with - he assumed - a little soobin hugging-almost-choking an orange cat.

the dorm was kind of big for a college dorm, it even had a small kitchen; it didn't surprise him though, this was allowed only to the rich kids or the brilliant ones with scholarships, like soobin. actually, it was kind of surprising how he managed to do it, as far as he knew he even was away from his family and didn't have that much money, working a part time job as a tutor for other students who didn't nearly needed worry about money or scholarships. of course he didn't told soobin how much he admired him for that-

"hey, here's the towel and dry clothes, you can change in the bathroom if you want," soobin appeared with messy hair and a new white t-shirt, glasses on and pajama pants.

beomgyu walked to grab the towel but just stood there, his chest almost touching soobin's and both of their hands on the pile of clothes. he noticed how tall he looked in front of him, dark eyes behind his glasses, and soobin couldn't helped it. beomgyu's dark brown hair falling wet and messy on his forehead, pretty pink lips, the skin of his neck exposed by his loose shirt collar. he can even see the stubborn glint in his eyes. oh, he never wanted something so bad than watching that break, like a disorderly act of control put on the sole purpose of getting smothered into nothing the moment soobin's hands touched his body, turning him into a writhing.

a grin crossed beomgyu's face, like he knew exactly what he had in mind, looking at him directly in the eyes and parting his lips.

"i'm going to change now," he tried to walk away like that was nothing, like he hadn't just stood there, chest almost touching soobin's while looking at him that way.

all it does is earn him a deadpan look in return. soobin mumbles, "you do like a challenge, don't you?,"

soobin grabbed beomgyu's chin, making their eyes meet again. all his sudden dominant demeanor was thrown out by beomgyu getting impossibly close to him, so close that he could feel his warmth breath on his mouth. soobin opened his mouth just to say absolutely nothing when he felt one finger fixing his glasses and his syrupy voice, "i think you know the answer, the question here is, can you take it?," beomgyu talked barely touching his lips, almost whispering, "can you take me, soobin?," words coming out with a devilish smile, "so what are you-," his teasing was cut by soobin's lips on his own, big hands pressing hard on his hips, not knowing how they've ended up against the wall; his back arched. the kiss was bruising and desperate, beomgyu let out a whimper that almost got lost in soobin's mouth when he felt his hand going under his wet shirt to press his ribs.

soobin didn't missed the opportunity, his tongue feeling beomgyu's bottom lip in a delicate yet such obscene touch just asking for permission, like he wasn't going to do it anyways. the kiss started to get heated and soobin groaned while touching the soft skin of the other's back, lowering his touch to reach the button of beomgyu's pants to take them off, exposing his slim pale legs. beomgyu broke the kiss only to start new ones on soobin's neck, who felt the smile against his skin when he moaned pathetically at the feeling of wet lips and the caress of teeth.

soobin couldn't take it anymore, grabbing beomgyu's waist while sitting on his bed, placing him on his lap and their lips met again, this time if felt consuming, beomgyu's head was spinning and it wasn't even for the drinks, neither of them felt the heat because of that.

beomgyu tried to move for some friction, moaning on soobin's lips when he started to want more, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other on his neck while he moved on the hard clothed bulge.

and soobin knew. he knew how he was trying to act dominant, aura blazing with fiery desire as he grinds on his dick, one hand on his neck, pointing out how hard he's gotten with a peal of cruel laughter meant to humiliate him.

"so hard already, soob," he tries to act so mighty, but soobin can see the inside of this thighs glisten with wet arousal. beomgyu's trying so hard to convince him that he's in control, but soobin know it's a question of time until the facade slips up and he takes the opportunity. and that's exactly what happens when soobin stop his movements by pressing him down, putting his hands on his hips, "i can feel the way you're tensing on my lap right now, acting so tough when we both know you'll fall apart if you had to work yourself down on me."

he could feel beomgyu's annoyance fighting with his frustration to move, but soobin's hands were stronger.

"s-shut up," beomgyu's voice came out raspy and almost inaudible if it wasn't for his face close to his ear, resting on soobin's shoulder, trying to hide his need.

soobin let one hand pressing hard on his hip bone and sneaked the other inside his shirt, caressing his back, "hm? do i shut up or let you move?"

beomgyu faced him, a teary-eyed whiny mess, "please".

soobin smiled, caressing his cheek. "such a pretty brat, so so pretty", then his hands were on his hips again, helping him move while taking all those pretty sounds on his mouth, kissing him like he's already his. it was too much.

it ached, it burned soobin's chest. like an itch in the point of his fingers, wanting to break him in the most delicate way, little by little, but to ruin him so he's only his to use. he needed to impregnate his perfume on his own skin, like an invisible mark that only both of them would notice. tasting him wasn't enough, biting wasn't enough. to need is something but to crave is dangerous and soobin was feeling sick and the way beomgyu was squirming on his lap begging to be fucked wasn't helping at all.

little did he knew how beomgyu was feeling. he was burning inside out, embarrassingly wet, his mouth can't erase the feeling of the other's lips and his limbs felt numb.

he usually was sardonic and loud, almost annoying, so practically crying on his friend lap was new and fucking embarrassing, and the worst part wasn't only that he was enjoying it, but that he couldn't helped it. he couldn't help grabbing soobin's shoulders, nails digging, trying to hold in whatever soobin was making him feel.

beomgyu covered his mouth with his free hand trying to hide his pathetic cries, the other still bruising soobin's back with his nails; that didn't last much, long fingers taking his hands and putting them in his back, grabbing by the wrist with one hand to keep the movement of his hips with the other. that's when beomgyu let out the most lewd sound soobin ever heard.

"fuck- you look so-" soobin's words were cut by beomgyu taking off his damp shirt, revealing his wet torso, pale skin and little moles adorned his soft stomach, pink nipples begging to be kissed. soobin started to kiss his neck, hands on his small waist, leaving a trail of wet lips while accommodating beomgyu's body on the mattress. he looked sinful, parted glossy lips, brown hazy eyes; pristine soft skin, pretty collarbones, the way he tensed up when his hands touched the curve of his waist, perfect just for him to destroy. soobin brought their lips together into a sloppy kiss, his tongue easily slipping past inside and eliciting sweet noises. being on top was easier, his hips moving deliciously, desperate thrusts against beomgyu's clothed heat, who could only respond with grabbing soobin's hair and moaning on his mouth trying to buck his hips, wanting all of him. beomgyu felt himself almost gone when his wrists were grabbed and hold on top of his head, then he felt soobin's lips everywhere, saliva and bite marks on his neck, collarbones, but soobin stopped moving in the process and he was so close, he didn't liked to be edged, not when soobin felt so good against him, just thinking about being actually fucked by him, head smashed against the pillow took his breath away. his chest heaving as he gasped for air when soobin's warm tongue touched his nipples, "don't move or i'll stop," beomgyu could feel the vibration of his voice against his skin and stopped couldn't stop fighting for touch when he needed it.

he knew exactly what to do. he held tight on soobin's hair, lifting his head, putting on the best show he could, dewy-eyed, he even looked sinless, "p-please bin, need you, i'll be good," the slight smile on soobin's lips told him it worked out perfectly, "you know, one thing about sleeping with your friend is that i know when you're lying, no matter how pretty you look begging for me," or maybe not, "is this what you want, gyu?," soobin started moving his hips again, he could even feel how wet beomgyu was through his underwear, this time in a rough pace, barely letting him catch up with the overwhelming feeling of his weight pressing on his smaller body.

the new angle wasn't helping with that, when he was on top of soobin he had slight control, now having him on top, fucking him though his clothes over and over made the edge of his vision blurr with each thrust. the pitch of his voice went higher and higher as he felt his climax coming, his hands flew up to grab at his shoulders, "soobin, i- close."

soobin kissed him messy, beomgyu receiving his lips the best he could," shh, let it out for me, gyu"

he didn't needed to be told twice, throwing his head back he gasped and squeezed his eyes shut as he came, but soobin wasn't planning to stop, overstimulating him as beomgyu started to feel how pleasure can be perfectly painful, his lower belly starting to tense up again when soobin's thrusts become faster and erratic as they came together, beomgyu's face hidden on soobin's neck as his body goes numb.

soobin he put his weight on his left arm, removing beomgyu wet bangs from his sweaty forehead to see his eyes, "you'll need the dry clothes now," his chest vibrating with laughter as beomgyu punched him on his bicep, "oh my god, soobin, shut up."

[savoureuxx]

I was wrongly accused of using AI to write a college essay. Two different AI detection tools flagged my essay, which I worked very hard on, as being over 60% AI-generated. I was given an F and told I needed to write a new essay on a different topic, in addition to submitting an explanation of why I chose to use AI. Obviously, I was not going to do that. Here is what I did to clear my name:

- stated multiple times that I have never used any form of AI to generate or enhance my writing

- suggested that there may be an issue with the software that detected AI in my essay, and mentioned that it is possible for AI detection tools to give false results

- emphasized that I take pride in my writing, I am confident in my abilities, and I would never want to come across as someone who cheats or takes shortcuts

- sent a screenshot of the original document's version history, showing that I made gradual edits across multiple days rather than inserting large pre-written sections

- suggested looking at my previous essay, which received a high grade and positive feedback, and comparing it to the essay in question

- offered to share other essays from different classes to demonstrate that my style of writing is consistent

- stated that, if the evidence I provided is not enough to clear this up, I will have to pursue an appeal process with the school

After all this, my professor apologized and said she will re-grade my essay. I am assuming the screenshot of the edit history is what convinced her. She said she has never had both softwares produce false results like this, and she is considering switching to something different.

Of course, I am immensely relieved, but I'm still very upset that this happened in the first place. In the future, I am going to screen-record my computer so there can be no room for doubt. It's ridiculous that I have to do this.

Hopefully, sharing my experience can be helpful to anyone else who ends up in this situation.

[monsieurboyardee]

2ha legally blonde au where mo ran goes to harvard to chase after the love of his life shi mei, but ends up falling in love with his uptight law professor after he gets chosen as a student intern for a huge murder case.

Listen okay frat president mo ran who barely got into a state school. He falls head over heels for shi mei, the head of his uni's nhs and a pre-med major to boot. After shi mei rejects mo ran bc mo ran isn't "serious enough" mo ran decides to buckle down and get into harvard to convince shi mei otherwise.

Once he gets there though he's constantly looked down upon for being stupid and low class, but seeing shi mei's shocked expression in the hallway made it all worth it. That is, until mo ran walks into his first class with the absolutely gorgeous but notoriously uptight professor chu wanning, who promptly throws mo ran out of class for not having the assignment completed.

Mo ran is FURIOUS, and immediately resolves to ace chu wanning's class just to spite his uptight professor, who looks at mo ran and only sees him as this stupid, shallow frat boy, just like the rest of his classmates.

Mo ran tears into his schoolwork like mad, only taking breaks to head to the small, local gym to box with his trainer turned friend, ye wangxi. Ye wangxi has been in love with her childhood friend nangong Si, who owns the small gym. Unfortunately, nangong si is too blockheaded to see her feelings, and ye wangxi is too afraid of messing things up between them. So mo ran teaches her some tricks to seduce nangong si (insert the bend and snap here).

One night, mo ran gets an invite to a costume party. he shows up in a pair of bunny ears and dark blue booty shorts, his chest bare and member bulging through the fabric. When he shows up though, nobody else is in costume. He storms into the party and ignores the resounding laughter, managing to find shi mei in the corner with his glass of merlot. They get onto the topic of prof chu wanning's fall internship program, which is notoriously hard to get into.

"I was thinking of applying for it, actually,” mo ran says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. Shi mei smiles at him, and tilts his head to the side slightly.

"Are you sure, A-Ran?" He asks, his eyes wide and his expression innocent. "It's just that...it's a super competitive internship, and well, I wouldn’t want you to feel hurt in the event that you don’t get in.”

Brightest."

Mo ran blinks. "Um, I mean, I got into harvard, didn't I? Got a 179 on my lsats, got into all of your classes too. That's gotta mean something, right?"

Shi mei sighs, genuinely looking sorry for mo ran. "Well, yes, but...you know what you're like, mo ran."

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Mo Ran growls. Shi Mei looks to the side, swirling his merlot. Mo Ran’s stomach sinks to the ground.

"Shi Mei...I'll never be enough for you, will I?"

He doesnt want to know the answer. But when shi mei bites his lips and sighs out a weary, "A-ran..." He already knows.

He leaves. Fighting back tears as the rain starts to pour down, mo ran stands under the rain in his stupid little shorts and his waterlogged bunny ears, wishing he'd never come to harvard.

Then, from behind him, a startled call of, "Mo Ran?!"

Mo ran turns. Professor Chu Wanning stands a lil ways behind him, holding a yellow, floral umbrella while he gapes at Mo ran.

"Don't ask." Mo ran growls, wiping a hand over his face. He misses the way his professor's eyes cling to the VERY prominent bulge in his rain-soaked shorts.

"I wasn't going to." Chu wanning snaps back.

Mo ran grits his teeth. He is having an awful day, he's soaked to the bone, and he does not want to stand here with his most hated professor staring down his nose at him. It surprises him then, when a yellow, floral-printed umbrella is shoved into his hands. "You're going to catch a cold in that shameless attire," Chu wanning snaps at him, sliding his coat off to wrap it around his briefcase.

Mo ran's eyes dart to his professor's ill-fitting white button down, now partly translucent as the rain begins to soak it through. He's never noticed how...tiny his professor's waist is. Like so tiny, mo ran's hands could probably almost wrap around it entirely.

He's an erotic sight in his now entirely see-through shirt, clinging to his body and leaving very little to the imagination.

"If you have time to party, then you have time to check the forecast." Chu wanning looks at mo ran once more, standing completely still under the yellow umbrella chu wanning had handed him, before hurriedly looking away. "Now get back to your dorm before I write you up for public indecency."

Then he's gone, tearing off with nothing but his briefcase, wrapped in his own coat for protection.

Mo ran stands there is shocked silence, watching chu wanning's figure disappear in the downpour.

Mo ran slowly climbs to the top of his classes, and the people around campus start to respect him. Mo ran's habit of jogging shirtless has certainly helped his reputation with the ladies. Shi mei has hardly looked his way, but now the spell he's had over mo ran has been absolutely shattered, so mo ran focuses on pouring himself into his studies instead.

When he comes into class, chu wanning makes no indication that he even remembers that rainy night, let alone wishes to discuss it. He pushes mo ran harder than before, but the memory of that night dilutes mo ran's hatred for the man.

It's still a surprise to him however, when the list of people handpicked by the prof himself for chu wanning's internship program come out and mo ran's name is on the list.

[bugmomwrites]

Strangeness and Charm

(A Leorio x Fem!Autistic!Reader College AU)

Leorio is thrilled to be returning to college in the fall after a trip with his friends to York New, and pleasantly surprised to meet a new pretty face in his classes. Unfortunately for him, you also exist.

Or, it's a wonderful day on the campus, and you are a horrible student.

A/N: This is how I'm coping with chemistry class guys. A neat little story by an autistic girlie for the autistic girlies. It's pretty bare bones and it started as a joke with @bwabys-scenarios. Worth noting I was zooted out of my mind when I began composing the earliest draft, so if you were hoping for the next Odyessy, look elsewhere because I'm writing solely for my own enjoyment and nothing is sacred. If you want to be added to the tag list please let me know, it will give me an extra dopamine molecule to survive the day.

That said, enjoy the ride.

Chapter I: Water & Oil

‘401, 402, 403- Here it is. Why am I just finding out this morning they moved the class to the fourth floor?’

Leorio sighed, glancing at his schedule one last time to confirm that he was, in fact, in the correct place before carefully pushing the door open and marching into his Advanced Chemistry class. It was bad enough showing up about ten minutes late after having missed syllabus week due to a trip, but now it was going to be even more difficult to find a seat. He groaned internally at this, realizing that with the new fall semester the place would be fuller than usual, especially with fresh high school graduates.

‘Of course the place is crawling with freshmen’, he thought to himself. Giving a polite wave to the professor who nodded stiffly before returning to introductions, he turned his attention back to the lecture hall seating, his eyes desperately roving over the sea of people on the risers. There were a few empty ones in front, but when he went to set his books down he was met with a few stinkeyes and a passive aggressive “pack it up Buddy the elf!” Putting his hands up in surrender, Leorio picked up his briefcase again and resumed his search. 

Trying to make one’s way up a flight of bleachers at a game is hard enough, but add in being well over six feet tall, noisy, horrendously awkward, and the last one to show up, of course hundreds of eyes would be burning into you. Leorio wasn’t a stranger to attracting attention when he went out, but damn it can’t a guy just exist in peace?!

Not wanting to be any more disruptive than he already had been, Leorio made his way up, gingerly stepping over limbs and muttering apologies as he found two seats close to the back, opting for the one with more legroom. Finally able to sit after nearly missing his bus, arriving at the wrong building, and sprinting over here only to cause a scene, he felt his blood pressure drop back to normal. Sure, he could feel sweat on his back, but his suit jacket was dark enough to hide what could have been an embarrassing patch.

He must not have been as composed as he tried to convince himself he was, because he was still in a daze when one of the many freshman dug into her bag and held up a metal water bottle as big as his head. He had always heard that eye contact was good when meeting a new person, but was it possible for a person to maintain too much of it? Baggy eyes with thick lashes and circles to match stared into him, as if studying him under a microscope, and he felt himself shrinking into himself despite towering over her. Another moment of loaded silence fell over them before she shook the bottle, the subdued clattering of ice inside bringing him back to earth. He hesitantly thanks her, carefully lifting the heavy object with both hands before unscrewing the top to take a grateful swig.

‘Maybe they’re not all bad. Sure, they’re a little arrogant, but they haven’t been adults for very long either. Besides, I’m only 19, it’s not like I’m much b-’

His eyes shot wide open when he finally registered the familiar burn of a stiff drink on his tongue. And not just some flimsy cocktail either- this was some prohibition-level strength in that bottle! 

Trying frantically to spit it back into the strawless mouth of the lid, he coughed up as much as he possibly could. The girl looked up from the chicken scratch on her binder when he set the bottle back down on the table between them with a dull thud. She had the audacity to raise an eyebrow at him, seemingly indifferent to his plight before shrugging and chugging an alarming amount of booze and backwash at 9am.

Leorio looked on, horrified and making a mental note to avoid her like the plague this coming semester. He had already made enough of a scene today, so he sat uncomfortably in her proximity as the professor droned on about the syllabus, covering the last page of information that was missed on Friday due to time constraints. Nothing seemed to change from last year except for the location, and a few other topics that he had already grown familiar with in the standard level class last semester. As the talking faded into white noise he found himself thinking of how to give this girl a piece of his mind as soon as the bell rung.

“And I hope you’re all comfortable where you are now, because the people at your table will be your lab partner for this week’s assignment! Now that everyone knows what’s to be expected in this class, let’s take some time now to get to know our seatmates better.”

His head swivled around like a deer in the headlights, eyes darting to the professor, to Moonshine Girl, to just behind Moonshine Girl where another woman sat eating some fruit from a tupperware bowl. She appeared to be a little bit older, taller, and much more composed than her slovenly counterpart. Manicured nails pushed a lock of platinum blonde hair out of her face as she gave Leorio a blinding smile, and everything about her screamed perfection. To her left, in between the two of them, Moonshine Girl was currently squeezing a ziploc baggie of soggy fruity pebbles out of a snipped corner and into her gaping maw.

“Sooo my name is Emily, I’m looking forward to working with y”-

“What the hell did you just give me?! I know it wasn’t water in that bottle! You have a lot of explaining to do missy. I don’t know what possessed you to think bringing that was o”-

“Hey, HEY dude calm down. It was an honest mistake.” Moonshine Girl sat up in her chair after leaning back on the legs a little. She shamefully took the bottle out, unscrewing the entire lid and showing them the contents. It was moonshine, all right- and there were little plastic stars filled with water. Reusable ice cubes.

“It was a Labor Day weekend project, I have a few of these giant bottles. I probably should have labeled them better instead of just throwing everything on my countertop.” Well, if Leorio was angry before, he was furious now. He opened his mouth, about to go on a tirade when Emily quietly asked to hold it. Moonshine Girl obliged, passing the container over. Hoping Emily would take it and dump it on the way out of class, Leorio leaned back into his seat when Emily took a sip herself, setting it down with a thumbs up.

“Oh yeah, no that’s definitely not water. It’s not too bad though, maybe you can show me how to make it at some point?”

Leorio watches the exchange, flabbergasted. Moonshine Girl nods excitedly, twisting the lid back on and tucking it back in her bag. “That sounds fun! Oh, right, my name is (name).”

Leorio files the information in his brain away for later, deciding to play nice until the end of class when he could quietly report the incident.

---

“Alright, if we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other this semester, maybe we should exchange contact info?”, (name) suggested, opening up the contacts app on her phone. Emily's face lit up, popping her phone number in, and then asked (name) to follow up with a quick text to make sure it worked. Sure enough, her phone pinged and Emily sent a little message back.

‘Hey! It’s Emily from chem <3’

Satisfied with the result, Emily goes to put her phone away when Leorio stops her. “Hey wait a minute why can’t I get a pretty girl’s number?!” 

Emily’s smile fades a little, cringing at the blatant flirting attempt before reluctantly punching in her digits. “Don’t forget (name)”, she reminds him, and he sighs. A few taps later, he hits the create contact button and slides the phone across the table when (name) pipes up.

“Wait hang on, I need to test it.” Fuck.

(Name) composes a little message, and almost immediately is greeted with an automated text message reading ‘Thank you for signing up for dinosaur facts! To hear our fact of the day, send YES. To unsubscribe, send STOP.’

Emily looks up at the man, disappointed. It was a good thing (name) made a habit of testing numbers before labeling the contacts, or she might not have caught it. “Come on man, really?” (Name) grimaced a little awkwardly, trying to lighten things up.

“Hey, it’s not so bad, I happen to like dinosaurs thank you very much.”

“That’s not the point- oh my god. Leorio, give her your real number. (name), I have it if he gives you another fake.” And with that, Emily pulls the contact screen up, the numbers mocking Leorio. He can’t lie his way out of it either- not with the blurry peace sign selfie he set as his photo ID. He grumbles, popping it in and sending a text from there before pulling out his own phone with a new message notification on the home screen.

“There you go. Happy? And quit daydrinking, college is no place for people who aren’t serious about their education.”

He walks out, (name) fuming a little as he picks up his jacket off the chair- the heat from running must have gotten too unbearable- and swinging it over his shoulder with one hand, briefcase in the other. The sweat stain that he thought disappeared was very much still there as he padded towards the door unceremoniously. Emily snapped a quick pic, and texted it to (name).

“There's a fitting contact photo”, (name) glanced at the screen hearing Emily’s words, and chuckled. The massive dark patch on his white shirt was blurry, but still visible to the naked eye. Typing into the first name section of her contacts and adding the photo, she flipped the screen around to show Emily her handiwork.

‘PANGEA’

“Ha! Yeah it does kind of look like the supercontinent.” Emily chuckled to herself, smiling as the two of them left the class. “And he looks to be as old as it too.” While (name) was thrilled to have finally made a friend in college, she prayed to every deity that there was more to this Leorio guy beneath the surface, otherwise, it would be a very long year.

---

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