#because they do not give tiny fucking shit about their students

[lovrboyx]

that awko taco moment when you do everything right and the universe still decides to dry fuck you in the ass for sport

[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.” 

[whoiseduardito]

Heeey so I've come to the sad realization that marvel has yet again made me simp over a character that is NEVER written for so, I was wondering if you would be willing to do a fluffy magneto fic.

Maybe where you are a new teacher a the school and had never me Erik and end up with a crush and he ends up finding out somehow. Idk sorry ik that was a long one.

I need something fluffy after these past episodes and Smut is fine with me but I'm not sure if your comfortable writing smut if not no big.

HEY! GET OUT OF MY WAY!

pairing: erik lehnsherrr (magneto) x reader warn: i love this type of fluff!!!!!!! a/n: my first req!! not proof read!!! horrible writing, rushed, you can tell i loved the sound of music trope.

so maybe you have a type.

older guys who have the humor of a rock.

...maybe just the older xenotype- but that's not important, totally not. the issue is that, you're crushin'. you're crushin' hard.

maybe it is the face, maybe it is the hair, but something about erik lehnsherr pulls you in, like a magnet, ironically.

you were the new teacher at the 'xavier's school for gifted youngsters, it was a pleasant experience, the students were nice (until their mutations were triggered, but that's not their fault), the ambient was too, and the pay? you could pay your rent, and more!

for you, the 'no crushing on coworkers' was bullshit, a harmless crush can't do that bad, as long as it's harmless.

so you continued with your lecture, 'history of mutation', very cool, you had even made a presentation, and then a kahoot, pretty cool right?

"so, the history of mutations can date back to many years, such as the sixth century-"

the door opened, all of the heads turned, and the person stepped in, you turned away from the board you were writing, your eyes searching for the person.

it was your fucking crush, it was fucking magneto.

your face drained of all color, and his electric freezing blue eyes stared back.

"uhh-"

"-..this is a senior class, correct?" he walked around the class, his eyes cutting contact from your's

"...y-yeah totally" he stopped near a decoration with 'mini prom!" painted on it with photos of the students as younger kids.

"then why are decorations everywhere?" he stared at it "this is not kindergarden."

damn. "well?"

"i-i thought it would be good to make this a nice atmosphere for the students."

"the world is not an nice atmosphere for mutants, is it?"

the class was dead silent, no one dared to breathe, even lightly.

"i want this off the wall before the end of the day." he made his way out.

"why?" you whispered

he stopped "because i said so, miss l/n. now rip it off"

oh, your mood had soured

"i'm sorry magneto, sir, but the decorations stay." you said those words with all of the backbone you have

"i'm the headmaster. it goes off."

"i'm the homeroom teacher, it stays."

you were a teeny tiny scared but for your students you'd fight him without your mutation. he glared, his piercing glare stayed on you

"i'm sorry mister magneto but in here, i give the best ambient for my students."

his stare became harder, and then he blinked, sighing and walking away "...i'd like to see you in my office, right now."

you gulped loudly, you're pretty sure he heard.

he began walking away, a beat passed until you realised he wanted you to follow him, you began walking alongside him.

the way there was silent, but your head was running, this is it, this is what you get for standing up for your students, shit.

he opened the door, and let you in, murmured a 'take a seat'

"...i am not fond of people disobeying my commands."

"i am aware, mister magneto."

"just call me sir, mister magneto is ticking me off"

"sorry, sir" you quickly said, most of the backbone you had you used it on standing up to him, and now you were getting fired.

"just answer me this." you nodded, you complied "you are aware that in this school you're just needed to teach them, and just make sure they understand how the world works, not pamper them, not make them decorations."

"but-"

"are you aware?"

"yes, but-"

"then why are you pampering them?"

ouch

"i'm going to move you, transfer you if you will"

"what?"

"roulette, the mutation to be able to randomize whatever power you have seen either physically or by any media."

you're screwed

"your mutation, am i right?"

"sir-"

"you're going to work with me to make them control their mutation."

"...what?"

"you and me, are going to train them."

"uhm.... who?"

he sighed loudly, he surely had a small fuse "your students."

great! teaching with magneto.

"...you sure sir?"

"i am sure."

breaking the news to your students was easy, making them behave so you don't look like a doof, was hard.

many classes had passed with mag- mister lehnsherr (he had told you to stop calling him 'magneto'), each day was hard but sometimes you picked at his stony personality, hoping that he would notice, sometimes you swear you saw him crack a small grin when you made a joke or had integration activities for your class, and your tiny crush had maybe turned into a bigger crush.

"teach'?"

"hm?" the voice of one of your students pulled you out of your meditation spot "what is it?"

"are you okay? you've been in this spot for the whole break."

"oh here? this is a great spot to think." it was a tree behind the mansion, in a secluded corner.

"mister magento is looking for you." they sat next to you beneath the tree

"why?" they shrugged

"maybe's cause he likes you" your head snapped to their direction

"...don't be silly" you tried to look away "he doesn't"

"really? 'cause i always hear his heart beating faster, when you do something or appear." their mutation was enhanced hearing, you blushed

"oh, stop lying." you snorted

"he does!" they jabbed you with their fingers to tease you "and you like him back!"

"shut up!" you laughed

"you do! you do!" they chuckled, suddenly they remained quiet and a smirk slowly was painted in their face "i'll leave you both alone" they walked away

"wha?-"

"miss l/n?"

oh shit.

"do you like me?" you turned your head slowly to face him.

"mister lehnsherr!-"

"please, call me erik." he chuckled, maybe the first time you saw his face in a smirk that isn't evil. "and how about a coffee to discuss about your teaching methods?"

[aft3rhrs]

— companionship ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: yandere, jimin says hi <3, allusions to kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, threats of murder (not towards the reader), corruption, a tiny bit of voyeurism (?), jealousy, possessiveness, hinted bdsm, rough sex, spanking, choking, degradation, praise, dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie

How could someone be so cruel?

Frowning, Jimin picked up the crumpled sheet of paper and tried to smoothe it out with his thumbs. He should hang it back up. The weather was dreary, and he really doubted the tape stuck to it would hold with how the wind whistled, tugging at his hair.

The vibration in his pocket distracted him from his thoughts. He reached for his phone, barely glancing at the screen before answering the call.

"Hey," Jungkook greeted, "busy?"

"No, why?"

"Well, I need to get some stuff for Bam and his friend, but my car's still not fixed... Can you give me a ride? I won't be able to carry this shit home."

Jimin snorted.

"What the fuck are all these muscles for, then?"

"For girls to look at, hyung. What else?"

Rolling his eyes, he folded the damaged sheet and slipped it into his coat, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

"You're so full of shit. Are you planning on buying the entire store?"

Either way, he was already fiddling with his keys. Jungkook chuckled on the line, because he knew.

"See you there."

Jimin sighed, hanging up to spare his already rigid fingers from freezing any further.

Jungkook hardly ever had to worry about finances, despite being a full time student. He already had Bam to take care of — and he loved to spoil him with the best food, toys and treats that stores had to offer. Lately, he's been talking about getting a new pet.

He stated that Bam could use a friend while he was stuck in college all day; and while Jimin could see his point, he didn't understand how Jungkook could possibly find the time to do his work, keep his social life in check and take care of two dogs. He's already been going out less, too busy with homework and too tired for their usual clubbing sessions.

It didn't really matter though, Jimin supposed. Jungkook wasn't anything if responsible, and maybe he didn't mind the quiet nights in.

As long as he was happy.

Silence.

It's been three days, and Jungkook wasn't picking up his phone. They were supposed to meet for drinks tonight, unwind. Jimin waited for an hour before he downed another whiskey and left the pub.

They didn't talk every day, but getting completely ignored and stood up? That wasn't Jungkook's style.

Rather than frustration, it was concern that had Jimin driving up to his house. He has been getting so withdrawn lately. He did mention his assignments were taking a toll on him. Checking if he was okay was probably a good reason to use his emergency key, right?

That was what Jimin decided on anyway when he knocked and there was no answer.

He stepped in through the door uncertainly, scanning the living room. Nothing out of the ordinary. The light was on, too.

"Jungkook?"

Again, no answer.

Was he asleep?

Heaving a sigh, Jimin locked the door and started making his way up the stairs. When he reached the top, however, he paused promptly, a hushed voice reaching his ears.

Jungkook's voice, to be precise.

What the hell was he doing?

Annoyed, Jimin stalked towards his bedroom, the door before him opened no more than a few inches.

His hand almost grabbed the knob; his heart almost stopped.

The rest of his body followed, freezing. Cold spread throughout his ribs, his stomach, the frost webbing his bones.

He suddenly felt the weight of the folded sheet he found, abandoned and forgotten in the pocket of his coat; until this moment. Unconsciously, his fingers twitched, touching it.

There was Jungkook, crouched down on the floor, a leash in his hand, his nose almost brushing the one of his new pet.

His new pet... that looked exactly like the girl on the missing poster Jimin picked up on the street.

He eyed the opened cage he helped Jungkook bring in, the diamond collar around your neck.

He felt sick to his stomach, felt his palms start getting sweaty. The initial shock was slowly fading and alarms were going off inside his head. What the fuck.

"— you even understand when I'm talking to you?" Jungkook whispered, his jaw set as he tugged on your leash.

On all fours, like a tamed kitten, Jimin saw your body jerk forward and your lower lip quiver.

"What did I say about talking to Yoongi when he comes down? What did I say?" Jungkook snapped.

Yoongi? The dealer?

Jimin watched the scene in front of him unfold in horror. Jungkook was... some kind of disturbed creep. Did he ever really know him at all?

Finally it made sense why he stopped going out, why he was no longer interested in hook ups. Was he the one who ripped your poster off the pole...?

Jimin shivered. He had to help you. He had to make sure he remained unnoticed and get you out of there as soon as possible.

"It's not my fault he flirts with me," you suddenly whispered, meek.

He didn't miss the way Jungkook's thumb caressed your face, settling on your jaw.

"Do you want me to break his neck?" He breathed. "Do you want to spend another night in that fucking cage? Do you?"

Jimin took a careful step backwards. He needed some air. Needed to leave and throw up. Maybe calling the cops was a better idea than handling this alone.

"I'm sorry," you whined, nuzzling your captor's neck. "Please don't be mad at me, daddy. Please touch me."

Poor thing; you had to resort to complying with his depraved demands just to—

Wait a minute.

Jimin froze again, feeling his stomach twist and turn.

Did he hear you right?

He definitely heard Jungkook's breath hitch, and at that point he was moving intuitively, slowly backing out into the darkness of the corridor and losing sight of you. He couldn't bear to look anymore. There was something in your eyes that unsettled his soul.

"You want me to touch you?" He heard Jungkook ask, raspy. "Want me to fuck you?"

A moan.

Jimin took a deep breath and tried to keep his composure, cheeks hot and hands unsteady as he reached for the banister of the staircase.

Poor little thing, in love with the maniac who snatched her up one day and changed her life forever. He pretended he didn't hear the unbuckling of a belt, pretended the chills running down his back weren't making him dizzy.

Maybe your demeanor should have been a sign that you needed help more than he imagined. Somehow, though, he doubted you'd accept it. It looked like he discovered Jungkook's little secret too late; you couldn't be torn out from his claws now. Once the separation anxiety kicked in, you'd wither away.

No pet wanted to live without their owner.

The collar was tight; it closed around your throat like a fist, tighter the harder Jungkook pulled. He took in the curve of your back, greedy eyes tracing down to where you were connected.

His cock throbbed as he watched it split you open, glistening with your slick. An inked hand dug into the supple flesh of your ass. You were so perfect, your whines music to his ears; somehow that only made his anger flare up.

"Shut the fuck up," he snarled, a slap, then another resounding through the room, leaving your skin hot.

He loosened his hold on the leash, then abandoned it altogether, gripping your hips to fuck you harder.

You fell forward, oxygen rushing back in and pussy tightening. His pretty little mess, sweat beading your body like morning dew glimmering on a flower.

"You wanna let another man flirt with you? You wanna be a little bitch?" He groaned. "Then shut the fuck up and take it like a bitch. Agh."

He threw his head back, blocking out the image of your ass bouncing as he slammed against it, the way your little hole swallowed his fat cock. It was too much to handle. The filthy sounds and the feeling of your cunt alone were enough to make his stomach burn, and he couldn't think straight anymore.

He just wanted to fill you up.

Again and again, while you drooled and panted, begging for more. Insatiable, just like him.

"Fuck," he gasped, "good slut."

You were close. His knees always weakened as you keened and tightened at the degrading praise, and he swallowed, no better than an animal himself as his cock rammed into you.

"Mine," he whimpered, his voice almost breaking. "Mmhm, gonna come—gonna keep you full—agh—here you go, baby—"

A heated shudder went through him, unraveling deep in his abdomen. Jungkook was never the one to break a promise, pumping his cum as deep inside as it would go while he moaned, letting your orgasm soak his cock completely.

"Fucck..."

Mine mine mine mine.

The only thing he knew, pulsing as the last drops of his seed shot out, leaving him blissfully empty. Of everything, except thoughts of you.

He caressed your sides, leaning down to press kisses to your spine. The hot trail ended right below your ear.

"If you ever talk to him again," Jungkook murmured sweetly, "you'll be sleeping in that cage next to his corpse. Understood?"

The little shiver of fear that ran through you was delightful. Jungkook kissed your neck, smiling when you nodded your head.

"Mm, yes daddy," you sighed out.

"Good girl."

You still needed some training, it seemed. But Jungkook had more than enough time and patience, and most importantly, he loved to remind you who you belonged to. It didn't take long for you to get it.

Jungkook would always take care of you. He would kill and die for you. There was no breaking that bond, not now, not ever.

This kind of companionship was meant for life.

taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @ar14dna @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @bnagtanx1306 @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111

[into-f0lkl0re]

Paige bueckers x reader

warnings: nsfw and my horrendous spelling and grammar inaccuracies (my ap lang teacher would be so disappointed)

not spell checked (i typed this whole thing on my phone( yes i have a computer) )

i hope yall like it

~I don’t got a single problem with provocative~

she had on a mini black skirt with ripped shear tights and doc martins

a yellow lacy tube top with stars in orange and red thread embroidered through out the top little tattoos littered her arms. an outline of a moon on her shoulder. A bow on her upper left arm, a bouquet of flowers above her elbow on her right. tiny stars coated both of her forearms. she was perfect.

~See the bodies, how they burn, it’s just the way it is~

A couple of minutes ago paige was trying to come up with some sort of excuse to tell her teammates why she had to leave this random club but then she spotted her. dancing with who paige assumed were her friends. one hand held a clear plastic cup with translucent light green liquid with a salted rim. paige felt her cheeks heat up. was it always this hot in here? paige forgot why she wanted to leave in the first place.

~ Smoky, dark, crowded room, I need nothing Under pink light in June. I was so cool, but then, all of a sudden You saw me look at you~

The room was filled with intoxicated college students trying to have a night off from the stress of their lives. today had been the last day of finals. school was officially out for the summer. everyone presumably celebrating.

“you’re staring” a voice whispered in paige’s ear

paige jumped almost spilling her drink

nika laughed patting paige’s back

“you’ve been staring at that poor girl for almost 8 minutes”

“is it that obvious?”

“yes extremely” a new voice replies

paige looks down and sees kk laughing with ice

“keep looking at her with that face and your eyes are gonna get stuck like that”

“fuck off”

“oh shit, paige she’s looking at you”

Nika elbows paige’s side.

paige turns and makes eye contact with the golden girl herself

~I burn for you and you don’t even know my name. If you’d asked me to i’d give up everything~

Paige felt her chest contract as the girl leaves the dance floor walking past paige and making her way to the bar while briefly making eye contact again and smiling. once the girl was at the bar she looked back at paige and laughed.

“stop standing there gaping like a god damn fish and go over there dumb ass” ice pushed paige towards the bar

~To be close to you pull the trigger on the gun i have you when we met~

“i’m paige” she almost shouts because of the deafening volume of the music

“i know who you are. Im pretty sure everyone at uconn knows who you are” y/n laughs

“can i buy you a drink?”

“ you don’t even know my name and you’re trying to buy me a drink? you move fast”

“ well what’s your name?”

“y/n and i like dirty shirley’s”

~I wanna be close to you. break my heart and start a fire, you got me overnight just let me be close to you~

“so what’s your major?”

“art history”

“oh what do you wanna do with that”

“i have no fucking clue”

paige laughs leaning her head against the bar holding her chest

“ok what about you? what’s your major?”

“uhm-human development and family sciences”

“ wow that sounds important. what do you want to do with that?”

paige lets out another laugh than sighs

“uh hopefully nothing i really wanna go pro”

“hey uh listen do you wanna maybe get out of here?”

“you read my mind”

~And now your mouth is moving, cinematic timing You pull me in and touch my neck, and now I'm dying~

barely making it through the threshold of paige’s apartment before her lips are on y/ns. tugging on her small tube top for dear life. paige blindly moves them towards her bedroom. they hit a couple walls on the way to their final destination. paige pushes her down on the bed before climbing over y/ns body and reconnecting their lips groaning into her mouth.

~You should be mine for life, I'll be signing

Every dotted line

Chemical override, ultraviolet

You could be mine tonight~

clothes long forgotten. two bodies grasping at each other letting out high pitched sighs and moans. paige’s hands are everywhere. groping her chest, paige slowly makes her way down y/ns body leaving a trail of love bites. taking her sweet time teasing, nipping and kissing at y/ns thighs.

“paige” y/n exhales

“say my name again” paige says again before sucking on her clit

“oh-god paige-please don’t stop”

“don’t worry ma i’m not stopping anytime soon.”

~ and i burn for you and you don’t even know my name

if you asked me to id give up everything to be close to you

break my heart and start a fire, you got me overnight

just let me be~

this was not a request i just thought this would be fun because i have been listening to secret of us on repeat for the past 48 hours

i’m working on an actual request a kk arnold x reader fic which i’m excited for. that should be out soon. i also wanna do a kate martin fic inspired by risk. send requests my way and ideas🙏

big forehead kisses 💕

-faye

[slutt4ellie]

Fated Hearts Start With Fire

PT2 - Unforeseen Harmony

masterslist

PART 1 // PART 3 // PART 4 // PART 5 // PART 6 // PART 7

Moving to a new city is tough, but it’s even harder when your roommate is a dick.

Summery - After moving in you find yourself distracted on why your roommate has this very prominent dislike when it comes to you?

Warnings -> Same mean Ellie / Reader is also rude / Alcohol usage / Mentions of previous relationships / Girl flirts with reader 🫣 / Jealousy (if u squint idk) / Slow burn!! / Toxic relationship /kissing / Smut in future chapters! / (Lmk if I missed anything else!)

WC : 4.4k

(Not proofread)

DAILY CLICK 🇵🇸 - (takes a few seconds!)

Fuck.

To say living with Ellie is “Hell”, that would be an understatement!

The whole interaction with her the day after she came home completely plastered, the one where she said you looked “shitty”, that was about 3 and a half weeks ago.

You didn’t even understand what the actual fuck was wrong with her! And sure that seems mean, you knew how it sounded! But she’s probably the most unreasonable person you’ve ever met.

She’d get pissed if you got up to early for your classes because the moving of you just simply walking “Woke her up!”

She constantly takes your food, drinks, snacks, whatever. Basically everything that was in the fridge, and purchased by you, also now happened to be hers!

And every time you brought up how it was rude or disrespectful she’d shut it down! Saying something along the lines of “Well I lived here first!”

Living in a place that was completely foreign to you, and having the worst possible fucking roommate unsurprisingly didn’t mix well!

It also didn’t help you had a grand total of 0 friends. You were shit at small talk and conversations, that was nothing new.

But then again you also knew staying in your shared apartment with Ellie. That wasn’t something you could deal with much longer, you just had to suck it up and talk to literally anyone except for fucking her.

So that’s what you did.

Walking to class was alright, the cold air hitting the back of your neck was extremely apparent but you sucked it up.

The sun was still struggling to make it past the clouds but to be fair it was the least of your concerns, because as of now you were making some genius plan to make some friends..!

You had Jess and Alex who are great. You wouldn’t trade them for the world. But even they knew you had to get out there more.

At least that’s what they’ve been texting you all morning. Stuff along the lines of “You got this!” and “Just try not to panic”

So you kept that plastered in the front of your mind as you continued to walk down the campus trail, there was music blasting in your ears, trying to come up with conversation starters till there was a slight tap on your shoulder.

A girl, she was taller then you, had brunette hair, blue eyes, and a tiny smile on her face.

Her hand slightly moves signalling you to basically take out your headphones which you complied. You assumed it was already weird that you were staring at her for at least 5 seconds.

She spoke softly. “Hi..!” You just give her a smile back, thinking something along the lines of “Who the fuck is this??”.

“H-Hi?” You stuttered out a confused tone leaking which she clearly picked up on because she followed by saying. “I’m super fucking lost right now and you seemed approachable!” She chuckles letting out a quick “I’m a transfer student, and my class is 182..? Do you mind?” She holds out her map which shows the campus.

This leads you to quickly smile back. “Shit, I’m 182 as well. I can just walk you if you want?”

This has her immediately nod and you see the relief all over her face. “Fuck, thank you. I have no clue how to read paper maps”

“No?” You smile at her words and she follows up by shaking her head.

“Never thought I’d be in this situation, so no!” She smiles at you, causing you go stumble over your words.

“I-I uh didn’t get your name?“ You choke out.

“Fuck right! Mia, sorry!“ Mia smiles holding out her hand to shake.

You hold out your hand and shake it back. Quickly telling her your name.

༻♡︎༺

You learned that apparently during Mia’s transfer, the papers got all mixed up, which is now leading her 3 weeks after the term had started.

You and her quickly found yourselves sat beside each other during the whole lecture. (Which you hardly followed since you guys were talking a shit ton.)

And by the time it finished she didn’t hesitate to get your number, she was definitely way more bold then you..

You couldn’t tell if Mia was being simply platonic or if maybe she was trying to flirt?

You were sorta bad at signals and so when she asked you to do homework today, specifically together, quickly calling it a “Date!” you decided to deem it as non-platonic.

So here you are now walking back to your apartment shoulder to shoulder, talking about school, friends, where you both grew up, shit like that. Really just getting to know each other during the walk

It didn’t take long till you reached your apartment fumbling over the key hole as you unlocked it giving Mia a clear view of the auburn sat on your couch.

When Mia sees Ellie sat on the couch she quickly talks “Oh is she your?-“

You assumed Mia was going to finish off the sentence with “girlfriend” which had you almost shout out a quick no, because Ellie. Gross.

But! You decided as a calmer approach “No!- No we’re roommates! I- It was like an ad and shit so..”

Mia then smiles and nods looking straight at your. “Okay cool!”

Did Mia care if you had girlfriend??

But before you could even fucking talk, Ellie turns around, this makes you assume she was probably going to the kitchen, but as soon as her green eyes hit Mia’s then yours she just sorta stops. Spitting out a harsh.

“People are desperate now!” Ellie chuckles continuing to pick up where she left off and walking to the kitchen. Grabbing a few snacks.

Your eyes land on the side profile of Mia’s, her eyebrows are furrowed, she knew the comment was directed towards you. Because Ellie’s eyes stayed on you when she said it.

Mia was about to say something but you quickly grab her hand intertwining your fingers with hers.

You’ve never had a girlfriend. You didn’t know if this was normal to even do considering you and Mia were probably the furthest from dating, but you just wanted to draw her attention off of someone like Ellie.

You got the impression Ellie wouldn’t turn down a fight, which see showed with you, and those just all happened to be verbal.

You didn’t exactly want to see what the fuck would happen if Ellie got into a physical fight. Especially not with a girl which is showing at least some interest in you?

Mia’s eyebrows drop, no longer furrowed, and you see a pink rise to her cheeks.

You clear your throat, because now you’re nervous having you hand intertwined with Mia’s. So you quickly disconnect the both of your hands before talking to her..

“We can uh-my room is just over her” You point and quickly lead Mia to your room avoiding Ellie’s gaze purposefully.

You open your bedroom door, you and Mia instantly stepping into your now properly decorated bedroom.

Having a bed which you lacked just 3 weeks ago.

Mia finds herself on your bed dropping her bag on the side of the frame. She scoots back pushing her back against the headboard.

She quickly started up conversations which you grazed over considering you now have a fucking person in your room. On your bed!

“Your room’s pretty” Mia smiles

“T-thank you!” You smile looking at her finally being able to bare proper eye contact “If you came her 3 weeks ago we would have been on the floor”

Mia laughs and let’s out a “Why??”

“I had no fucking bed! Since I travelled so far, they were losers and didn’t want me bringing my queen bed on the plane?” You chuckle obviously joking which prompts a laugh from Mia.

“Seems lame” Mia smiles and you finally sit beside her on the bed.

“Super lameeee” You drag out your “e” which now left you feeling super fucking lame, it made you cringe at yourself which you tried to laugh off.

Mia smiles and chuckles, grabbing her laptop which she conveniently already took out of her bag. “I don’t wanna do all this fucking work” Mia looks at you having the blood rush straight up to your cheeks.

“Y-yeah no me neither, I already have like 3 things I gotta work on.” You chuckle looking back at her.

Mia had almost 0 problem having her eyes glance down to your lips. Yet you fucking did.

I mean sure you obviously wanted her to kiss you but you had no fucking knowledge on what to do? But before you could even think about it, Mia’s lips find themselves right on yours holding your cheek softly.

You immediately respond kissing her back having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You were really just hoping your doing it right, but considering she’s not pulling back, you sorta come to the consensus it’s good enough!

You felt Mia’s tongue invite itself inside your mouth, her kisses now leaving and moving to your jaw and neck.

To say you were now just a bit nervous would be an understatement!

You obviously fucking liked Mia? You’d be dumb to not? But to be fair you didn’t even fucking know her middle name? Or really to much shit about her.

You didn’t know what this was? Like what if she just wants to hook up or something..! You obviously didn’t want that??

And she had to feel something was off because she pulls back her eyes now falling onto your face studying your face trying to read it. Quickly noticing how your eyes are planted on the ceiling.

“You okay..?” Mia ask having her hands drop from the back of your neck to your arms.

You didn’t even notice her lips where off your neck and jaw since you were doing your best to just disassociate.

“Hey..” Mia sits more up now her eyes meeting yours.

“W-what?” You stutter quickly swallowing the lump in your throat.

“You okay?” Mia says her eyes not leaving your face making sure she didn’t make you uncomfortable and accidentally do something wrong.

“Fuck- was I reading it wrong??” Mia ask, now starting to panic thinking she just kissed a straight girl or something?

“N-no! No! Fuck- no i’m sorry I just, I- I haven’t done this.??” You say spitting out not wanting Mia to leave or something.

“Like what? Shit with a girl” Mia says.

“At all.” You say really trying to have this justify and explain to her why the fuck you were practically tweaking out just from getting kissed.

“O-oh?” Mia says it surprised, now slowly fixing your shirt feeling bad. “Fuck i’m sorry”

Mia looks at you “I-if I knew I wouldn’t have like gone so fucking” Mia try’s to explain with her hands which failed causing you both to laugh.

“I-no your good. I just like- maybe slower.” you say looking at Mia thinking she’s gonna laugh. Not a lot of people go “slow” now, and you knew that.

“Slowwww” Mia smiles dragging out her words before softly kissing you again now not doing anything crazy like tongue, literally just kissing you.

༻♡︎༺

That was a crazy as it got. Literally just kissing which you appreciated. It also didn’t take long before the sky turned dark and Mia had to leave, you walked her out, kissed before she left and everything felt insanely intimate.

But just like in Ellie fashion she always had a whole lot to say. You hardly noticed her before she talked.

“I meant what I said by the way! Didn’t realize people were so fucking desperate” Ellie slightly laughs her hair falling over her face which she promptly moves.

You just look at her. “The fuck is your issue Ellie.” You say trying to shrug off her comments but it just doesn’t work.

“I don’t have a fucking issue, just think anyone would have to be insanely fucking desperate to go out with you, that’s all?” Her stupid fucking laugh echos your shared apartment.

“You always have a lot to say.” And you don’t even know what made you say the next sentence considering you knew hardly nothing about the situation. You had a lead, an idea of what it was so you took it.

“What happened with Cat Ellie? Dina and Jesse brought it up, fuck did she leave because of how fucking annoying you are or?”

It didn’t take long till her face dropped the smug smirk no longer planted on her face.

Guilt stuck you hard. Sure you didn’t like Ellie but the fact her eyes are glazing over, just from one fucking sentence means you probably crossed a line.

I mean was it fair she could say all this shit about you with nothing in return. Obviously no?

But then again you didn’t know what actually happened with this Cat? You knew it was some sorta “situation” at least that’s how Jesse worded it a few weeks ago. But then again it wasn’t your place to bring it up.

“Fuck you.” Ellie’s voice chokes up for the first time in god knows how long. She turns around. So clearly the Cat thing is personal! You quickly thought to yourself!

“Ellie..” You follow and she turns around and pushes you, which almost has you fall straight back.

“Fuck off!” Ellie says her voice now stern, fist clenching at her sides.

There was no doubt she was probably going to punch you, but luckily there was a knock on your guys door.

“Ellie let us innnnn!” Dina’s cheerful voice comes through the door.

Almost immediately Ellie walks over shoving you, in the process her shoulder comes slamming against yours which almost causes you to fall back.

You hear the door open and a pair of footsteps enter. Ellie doesn’t even bother to great them.

“Okayy? Rude” Dina chuckles thinking it’s just Ellie being Ellie.

But when Ellie also glances past her and sits on the couch. Dina starts to get a weird vibe.

Dina slowly turns her body towards you “Hey!”

You don’t even know what to reply with. You just let out a slight “Hi.”

Dina tilts her head, her eyes glancing from you back to Ellie. Both of your eyes seem heavy. Jesse quickly puts down alcohol and snacks on the kitchen counter.

Quickly Finding himself beside Ellie on the couch which she quickly shoves over to the furthest cushion, being the possible furthest away from him. Hardly matters though because she stands up. “The fuck?”

He mutters looking at Ellie’s body slowly leaving, trailing to her room.

“What happened” Dina says both her eyes flat on you.

“I-I brought up Cat.” You mutter out.

Just by the fact Dina’s eyes trail straight to Jesse and Jesse immediately stands up walking down the hall “Imma check on her”

Dina nods and looks back at you once again. “What’d you say…?” Dina’s tone is stern, her cheerful tone now lacking. She’s literally just trying to figure out what happened.

“I-I just, she was being m-mean to mi-mia and me-“ You try and spit out but Dina cuts you off clearly not trying to hear about someone she literally doesn’t know.

“Just what did you say!” Dina says fully over the rambling, she knows whatever the fuck you said must be bad because Jesse is still trying to get into Ellie’s room.

“I-I just said something like ‘did Cat leave you because you’re annoying’! I didn’t- I didn’t except shit. Like I didn’t except it to actually strike a nerve??” You quickly say looking down embarrassed of your words. “I brought yours and Jesses name up accidentally, I swear!” You quickly add.

“Shit..” Dina sighs rubbing her hand down her face letting out a groan. You don’t know the story and Dina’s trying to remember that.

Dina was about to talk more but you quickly cut her off. “I swear I didn’t- I didn’t except her to freak?”

Dina shakes her head. “You don’t know the story. Okay.”

You don’t even know why you care. I mean Ellie’s a dick, she’s been for the past 3 weeks. But you never wanted to actually hurt her? You wouldn’t consider yourself “mean”. But as much as you convince yourself you no longer seems if you care you just spit out.

“I- then tell me..the story?” You say.

2 months earlier.

(Ellie)

“Ellie” Dina says laying on Ellie’s bed looking at her.

Ellie’s spacing out looking at her celling.

“El!” Dina says a bit louder sitting up waving her hand over Ellie’s face having Ellie quickly snap out of it.

“Fuck yeah” Ellie says her voice cracking trying to form a smile which feels all to fucking forced..

“We should go out tonight. You know get out of the apartment that has Cat in it.” Dina says looking at Ellie’s facial expression. The idea seems uncomfortable. Going out without Cat at this point felt foreign...just weird…

“I don’t know.” Ellie fiddles with her hands instead of facing Dina’s brown eyes which feel like they’re piercing into her thoughts right now.

“It’s a break. I mean I could invite her?” Ellie suggest looking at Dina almost like she wants approval.

Dina knows the idea probably isn’t smart but she sorta shrugs. After all it’s just a break. Not a breakup.

“Yeah! I can bring Jesse too” Dina smiles suggesting looking at Ellie.

Ellie’s eyes finally light up like they used to.

“I’ll ask then!” Ellie quickly stands up smiling at Dina before leaving her bedroom which just a few nights ago, had Cat still sleeping in it.

—————————

The argument between Cat and Ellie was stupid. Ellie and Cat wanted to go do something special for their 1st year anniversary. They had an idea to go somewhere special, like a foreign country or something. Just to get out, spend quality time. Shit like that.

Then the first problem came. Ellie and Cat had two very fucking different budgets. Ellie has lived in New York for a bit and had a stable job.

A type of job she could live off of.

Then Cat. Cat definitely had a better job, she wasn’t shy to bring it up either, quickly pointing out all the places Ellie could realistically afford were “shitty” and “gross” instantly forming a fight.

“Why do you act like i’m not trying?” Ellie says looking at Cat tears already brewing on her lower eyelid..

“I’m not acting like anything Ellie?” Cat says scoffing sarcastically. Almost like she’s blaming Ellie. “I just think your job clearly isn’t paying enough.”

“Doesn’t it matter we’re going together?” Ellie says looking at back at Cat now standing up.

Cat follows up by standing in front of Ellie. “Ellie don’t pull that shit!” Cats tone is getting louder and she shakes her head fast.

“I’m not pulling anything! You’re acting like me not being able to afford places that are 700+ dollars is like i’m purposefully doing this!” Ellie’s tone is also getting but it has more cracks rather then Cats.

“Okay Ellie.” Cat says sarcastically just rolling her eyes, grabbing her bag.

Ellies eyes are shifting from Cats hands, to the clothes she’s grabbing, and back to the bag. “W-where are you going?”

Cat sighs and shakes her head. “I just want space. I’m gonna stay at a friends tonight.”

Ellies almost baffled. Confusion is flowing all throughout her brain. “Why?” Ellies eyes again are glossy. ‘this isn’t a breakup, this isn’t a breakup, this isn’t a breakup.’

“We clearly fucking need a break Ellie!” Cats words echo throughout Ellies brain..

“W-“ But before Ellie could even finish her sentence a slam of the front door rings Ellie’s ears and she’s now left alone in their shared bedroom.

—————————

Even though Dina thought it was stupid Ellie was shoulder to shoulder with Cat as they stand outside in the alley, which the club is left of.

Ellie’s eyes are the brightest they’ve been since that day. So even if Dina thinks Ellie even talking to Cat after the fight was dumb, if Ellie’s happy. That’s what matters.

The reason they were all outside the alleyway of the club is because Jesse is the only 21 year old in their whole group so he had let them all in through the back.

And as soon as the door opened and the music poured out Dina, Ellie, and Cat all entered.

It really didn’t take long till they were all drunk, they easily got served so they got loaded up fast with shots, the whole group downing them in mere minutes.

Ellie was enjoying her night, at the end of the day she was with Cat?

The girl she loved no matter what..

“I’m gonna go get us drinks!” Cat says talking into Ellie’s ear so she can hear over the loud music.

Ellie quickly gives Cat and thumbs up and a slight smile. “Okay!”

10 minutes go by, still no cat.

it’s been 10 minutes since Cats been gone, Ellie now just wants to make sure Cats okay? It shouldn’t take that long yet it was?

Ellie quickly taps Dina’s shoulder as she dances with Jesse. And leans into her ear “I’m gonna go find Cat! She’s been gone a bit!” Ellie says and Dina nods responding with a quick.

“Want me to come?” Dina smiles looking at Ellie.

Ellie shakes her head and smiles point at Jesse. “Nah! Enjoy dancing!”

Dina chuckle and nods watching as Ellie disappears in the crowd.

Ellie is pushing through a few bodies not seeing anyone who represents Cat getting drinks. Her eyes are scanning all over debating whether or not she should check inside the washrooms?

Until she sees Cats head in the middle of the dance floor. “Cat!” Ellie yells smiling until she sees it. Her voice falls short and her smile fades.

Cats kissing another girl.

Ellie’s whole face turns pale and she gets hit with a wave a nausea that hits her like a brick.

Everything goes in a fucking blur. Ellie’s shoving through a shit ton of bodies. Tears streaming.

The scene is..ugly..

But she’s been dating Cat for almost a year. All of it, it’s down the drain in the matter of seconds. Ellie’s hands are shaking as she pushes the alleyway door open quickly trying to calm the fuck down.

Ellie sits down on the ground her chest falling up and down as her vision blurs. Black spots are appearing in her eyes and she feels like she can hardly breath.

It doesn’t take long till she can hear Dina’s muffled voice. “Jesse! She’s out here!” Dina says crouching down rubbing Ellie’s back.

Ellie assumes she hit Dina on the way out since she was so fast to find her. Ellie’s having a full blown panic attack and it’s not going away.

Jesse also crouches down beside Dina, reaching his arm on Ellie’s shoulder asking Dina if she saw what even happened.

Dina continues telling Ellie to breath. She softly rest Ellie’s hand above her chest to follow her own breathing pattern. “Ellie in…and out”

Dina looks at Jesse. “Wanna get her some water.”

Jesse quickly nods running over to the convenience store which is across the street.

As soon as Jesses leaves, Dina looks at Ellie. “Ellie what happened.”

The sparkle which was in Ellie’s eyes during the beginning of the night is now gone. And she just shakes her head. “Cat kissed some girl. I saw her while-while it was happening.”

Ellie try’s to clear her throat, a cover to stop the tears that are threatening to spill from her eyes again.

After that night Ellie didn’t want to feel.

So she made the decision she was done with trying to feel.

Present

(You)

“Fuck.” You sigh now realizing how much you fucked up. You brought up a situation you knew literally nothing about and probably just gave Ellie new fresh wounds which were probably just healing. “I thought the girl who moved out went back to her hometown or something, It was Cat though..?”

“She probably didn’t feel like explaining it” Dina let’s out a dry chuckle which is to cover how fucked the whole situation is.

“Listen it’s not your fault.” Dina sighs shaking her head.

“You didn’t know?” Dina tilts her head her eyes finally meeting yours.. “Trust me I know Ellie can be a dick.” Dina says rubbing your shoulder, she doesn’t want you to feel guilty.

“Give her time to ease up” Dina nods trying to reassure you her behaviour will be better.

“I’ve gave her 3 fucking weeks?” You say. Almost all your sympathy leaving your body once again. Sure you wanted to feel bad for Ellie? But she’s mean all the fucking time.

What happened to her unfortunately doesn’t excuse that.

“I feel bad, a-and I get what happened to her isn’t fair. I know it wasn’t right for me to say what I did, but it’s also not fair for her to take it out on me Dina.” You say looking at Dina and Dina’s head drops.

“I’ve been friends with Ellie since freshman year. I swear to you she’s only ever fucking been like this these last 2 months.” Dina says, it’s like she’s trying to convince you that Ellie’s not a complete dick. Which you’re finding hard to believe.

Just as you were about to speak. Ellie walks out of her bedroom with Jesse. She looks straight at Dina then you, for the first time in fucking weeks Ellie doesn’t go straight to insulting you.

You can tell by the fact her eyes are now red she’s obviously been crying. You’ve never seen vulnerable before. Never with red eyes, her nose still sniffling, the outer area of her eyes still wet, you haven’t ever seen Ellie like this..

You didn’t say anything considering you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt since you were 100% the cause to her crying.

Your eyes follow Dina as you see her step forward and just hug Ellie. Ellie doesn’t push back or refuse. She just wraps her arms back around Dina.

Ellie’s face goes in Dina’s neck and it’s like a different version of Ellie.

Not like the version you’ve constantly been seeing.

You’ve seen Ellie like this before, it was when she was sleeping on the couch after coming home drunk with Dina and Jesse..

A version of her which was calm and real. Not someone behind a dark, mad, rude, persona. Probably the Ellie before Cat decided to fuck her up.

The Ellie which felt.

A/N -> Part 2 is here!!

I really hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, because I did actually enjoy writing this! I already have a full plot lay out for the 3 part so expect that maybe next week. (don’t hold me to that 😭)

I’m gonna shift from a bit of the angst because I feel like i’m sorta shit at writing it, idkkkk!

I’m still super busy with school but so far my work load has been going down a bit, so I plan to work on obviously my other fics while still prioritizing this one! (Because I plan 5-6 parts)

That’s all! Ty again for reading likes and reblogs are really appreciated! 🫶🏽

Taglist - @a-little-bit-of-everybody @bready101 @shiimer @boobdrug @amberputh

[sapphic-agent]

Bro, Aizawa can go kick rocks. That last ask you posted got me so mad about him all over again.

I have no clue how Hori meant to write Aizawa. On one hand, he admits he really has no idea what the fuck he's doing as a teacher, doesn't actually teach his students anything, lets Bakugou do whatever the hell he wants with no consequences, and was wrong to treat Izuku the way he has been since day one. He even admits that he has no clue about his students DESPITE THE UA TRAITOR BEING ONE OF HIS STUDENTS.

On the other hand, he's arrogant enough in his teaching abilities to get offended when Mic calls him out for being a terrible teacher, doesn't say shit about Ida's internship choice despite knowing how suspicious it is, only gives ONE "I'm sorry, Izuku" with ZERO reflection or introspection as to why he hated Izuku so much, and hypocritically accused All Might of favoring Izuku despite not just blatantly favoring Bakugou and Shinsou, but shutting down Mic when he brought up said favoritism.

Worst thing is, everything in the second paragraph is to be taken at face value. We're supposed to see him as Kakashi 2.0 and this amazing teacher, but really he's just an arrogant asshole who if he were a real teacher, would have gotten MANY students killed due to his negligence and love of dishonesty.

Exactly, he's so inconsistent. I suspect this is due to his role as Horikoshi's mouthpiece. Isn't it a little suspicious that both times that Bakugou faced criticism from the public, Aizawa was conveniently placed to shut them down? Because the heroes at the Sports Festival and the reporters at the press conference are supposed to be us. Horikoshi, through Aizawa, is telling us how we're supposed to be regarding Bakugou, despite the fact that Bakugou's actions completely refute what Aizawa's saying.

(The worst thing about this is that it works. I suspect a big reason why people are so convinced that Bakugou's character arc was good is because of what Aizawa says. It's easy to buy into something if it's being told to you directly)

It's actually a shame because Aizawa didn't have to be a bad character. He's actually a pretty good hero, and his attitude towards Izuku's ideals wasn't exactly wrong. His execution absolutely was and he's really shitty about it, but I can understand the fear that someone who's self-sacrificing with a quirk he can't control will get himself killed.

The issue is Aizawa didn't care enough to a) actually understand what was going on and b) make the effort to teach Izuku better. So everything about him- his background, intention, trauma, beliefs- means nothing because he's not actually taking the steps to address and amend them.

Someone- not naming names- tried to make the argument that Eri ruined Aizawa's character. But honestly? She's the only reason I like him even a little bit. If we discount the light novels (and we should because from what I can tell they're awful), their relationship can be cute, even if we only ever see him escorting her around. Those little moments make him more human. It's not great (because again, they're barely together), but it does endear me towards Aizawa, if only a tiny amount

[justevelynnnn]

Logan with a cat quirk 🐱

Summary: Logan becomes a “cat” for a few days

Warnings: Tiny bit of cussing, Cat!Logan likes to scratch and hiss

A/N: Hit this idea randomly one day so here we are! Cat!Logan forever 🤍

- It was after a mission when you noticed something off with Logan. You had stayed behind this time because you weren’t really needed.

- Jean came up to you and said he sniffed some weird plant that she’s gonna study but basically he’s been acting like a cat since he did.

- His hair tuffs were a bit bigger…like cat ears

- And his eyes…yeah, okay, he’s definitely like part cat now. Or something is up.

- Logan didn’t talk just looked at you and sniffed. It was very weird. Veryyyy weird.

- Some stuff was cute like how he would cuddle with you more but then he’d lick you. Like a lot. And, apparently, it’s cause he was trying to clean you.

- Either that or he was saying i love in you in cat or some shit.

- He purred when you’d pet him too. And he’d nuzzle up against your hand.

- He also walked on all fours more often. It was weird.

- Scott thought it was hilarious until Logan started hissing at him and even scratched him once when Scott tried to pet him.

- “Geez…Hey, how long you think he’s gonna be like this..?” Scott said to Jean rubbing his hand.

- “Not too long. I analyzed the flower. Long story short, It’s pollen turns anyone who sniffs it into a “cat”. Obviously not literally or even physically too much but definitely mentally.” She points to the enclosed flower. “The smell from the petals is meant to draw people in on purpose. Logan has animalistic qualities so it just worked on him better… From what i’ve seen he should be back between tomorrow or next week.”

- A week? Everyone looked at Logan as he ignored everyone and licked his hand like a cat.

- Professor Xavier was seemingly very calm about all this. He put you and Jean in charge of watching Logan. Everyone else was to leave him be, including Scott.

- The students thought it was very interesting but Logan didn’t like all the new attention and would always run off when a crowd started to form. Sometimes he’d hiss too. Then it wasn’t cool anymore.

- “It’s okay guys. He’s just…overwhelmed..” You reassured. A lot of students liked Logan. And also cats. You told them maybe if he remembered this they could just ask him when he turned back what it was like.

- Cat Logan only ate fish and some other meats now too. Very picky as well. You tried to give him some bacon and he smacked it off the table. He did the same to most vegetables.

- “This just keeps getting funnier!” Scott bursted out laughing as he watch you sigh at another broken plate of food on the ground.

- “Stop it, Scott. Didn’t Charles tell you to leave him alone? Logan’s gonna get you if he remembers this.”

- “You got him a giant litter box too?” He smirked.

- Yes.

- “No. Now? get the hell out of here already!” You shooed him and finally gave Logan a can of tuna which he ate quickly.

- He finally changed back in the middle of the night a couple days later. He was a “cat” for 5 days.

- He was curled in a ball at the edge of you guys bed and fell on the ground when he woke up.

- “Logan?” You looked over the end of the bed. You made those kissy noises people do to get pets attention. “Hey? Logan?”

- “Where am i…and why are you making those noises..?”

- “You’re talking…”

- “Of course, bub. Why wouldn’t i be? Seriously, how’d i get here so quickly?”

- “Jean said you sniffed something during the mission and you’ve been acting like a cat until now.” You said getting off the bed and walking over to him. He stayed seated and stared into space for a second.

- “The fuck?” Logan stood up and finally noticed he was nude. “Why am I naked?”

- “I could only keep cat you in clothes for so long… You torn up a lot of shirts and pants up over there…and also furniture. And scott.”

- Another pause.

- “….get me a fucking cigar. And booze. I want to forget this shit immediately.” Logan sat back down on the bed and put his head in his hands. How could he be so stupid? Sniffing a strange flower?

- You got him what he wanted and sat next to him.

- “I dunno, it was kinda fun…and your “meow’s” were funny sounding.” You said after a moment of silence.

- He just looked at you and shook his head.

- “This didn’t happen.”

- You nodded noteing not to mention the shenanigans you got into with him and pranks that were pulled or pictures you and the others took while he was in his cat like mind.

- Yup, didn’t happen.

Bonus! Headcanons for Cat!Logan

- He scratched anything he could at first. The curtains, the couch, even the carpet. He used his fingernails and also his claws.

- You and Rogue made him a giant scratching post so he could stop. He only used it a day.

- He really only let you pet him for a long time. Others could for a couple of minutes but then he’d try to bite them.

- He liked “cleaning” himself a lot. He had a lot of hair on his chest and arms and legs especially so he licked a lot there.

- Hairballs happened unfortunately and it was…yeah.

- The first time he did it Scott almost threw up. Storm just cringed. The hair ball wasn’t that big but just… there.

- Also, with the only eating fish thing he drank his water like a cat too.

- More licking.

- You got plenty of pictures like that.

- As for the pranks, one time Scott got the idea to use his red beam as a laser pointer and aimed it at different things to get Logan to try and catch it. One time, it was a bunch of bushes. So Logan obviously got hurt trying to get that laser because the bushes were prickly.

- He also aimed it in the pool and like most cats he hated water but still jumped in because what is that freaking red thing???

- He was very upset getting out that water.

- Scott also put pickles and cucumbers everywhere so Logan kept getting scared turning corners and stuff.

- He’d jump really really high it was so silly

- Definitely gave wanna be black cat mysterious but actually a orange cat energy

- Cat Logan also liked to stare. So…that was happening.

- Rogue got the most pictures surprisingly

- She showed almost the whole school by the time he turned back. He was not happy. He wasn’t mad for long tho because it’s Rogue ❤️❤️

[tavina-writes]

I saw someone say that Jiang Cheng is written like a classic Jin Yong wuxia villain, thoughts?

Hi Nonny!

I guess, if they meant that Jin Yong always writes his villains as also complex people who are gripped and shaped by their lives and the tragedies that caused them to end up more "villainous" then... that's accurate? Most of Jin Yong's villains are highly sympathetic and tragic people in their own right (most, not all, given that the other flipside of Jin Yong's villains are those who stand in a position of terrifying power and then proceed to punch down socially in brutal and horrific ways.)

Jin Yong's tragic villain characters are often defined by their relationship with the power axis in his works -- you see this especially starkly with Lin Pingzhi in Xiao Ao Jiang Hu, who through no fault of his own (though he thinks its his fault) falls from a gentry young master to someone whose family is massacred, hunted across the landscape, and then sees his parents brutally tortured and is tortured himself before realizing that the shifu who adopted him is a hypocrite who would sacrifice all his students for ultimate power and has in fact, purposefully picked up Pingzhi himself to steal a very important part of Pingzhi's inheritance. After that he goes insane! But the guy genuinely went through the world's worst trauma conga line before he decided fuck it he wants revenge.

The other side of the Jin Yong villain spectrum is a guy like Feng Tiannan from Young Flying Fox who uses his money and relative power to force a peasant woman into gutting her own five year old son in front of witnesses to prove he didn't steal and eat a goose of Feng Tiannan's because he wanted...their family's property. Which was a tiny drop in the bucket of what Feng Tiannan already owned. He just felt like it should be his so fuck it who gives a shit about five year olds! (Feng Tiannan also brutally rapes one of his servant maids and later his friend tries to sell the daughter born of that rape into sex slavery, but y'know.) Does he sound like anyone in MDZS? Jin Guangshan perhaps?

The central thesis of any Jin Yong work (and what I admire the most about his writing) is how he frames societal corruption and writes about power structures, and how concisely and brutally he outlines and defines those reasons people in power do horrific things.

As for the tragic villain situation, I mean, I guess in one of Jin Yong's worlds Jiang Cheng could be a tragic villain. So could Wei Wuxian. Or Lan Wangji. Or Jin Ling. Or Lan Sizhui. Or any of the characters. They've all experienced trauma that's shaped them, it just kind of depends on what kind of story Jin Yong wanted to be telling with that one tbh.

If we're talking about the "socially corrupt bully who punches down and ruins the lives of regular people" and the person you're quoting is using that to refer to Jiang Cheng they might just be a Jiang Cheng hater lmao.

I'd be really curious to see the original context of this claim tbh, because it strikes me as kind of... "I'll say this to cause outrage among Jiang Cheng stans and make them like Jin Yong less and not because I actually like Jin Yong books or Jiang Cheng." when it's being dropped into my inbox with zero context like this.

[whoopsyeahokay]

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

(AN: this'll be a multiple-oneshots deal—out of order—with regular additions until it's complete.)

🛎️prompt - Wally Clark NSFW alphabet.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. grey!Wally Clark. cheating. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - A

A is for the addiction Wally develops for hot cherry kisses.

He grabs you by the wrist between classes, pulls you into the empty boy's locker room, and crowds you against a locker. Coaxes a thigh between your legs and fists a hand into your hair, angling your head perfectly before he descends.

Deep kisses shallow and then break as he moves to graze the tip of his nose along your neck.

"That's it, baby," He says, sandpaper-rough, nudging thick, hard muscle against your pussy. Tiny motions, barely perceptible, but so fucking good. "You like that, don't you?" Humid breath tickles the sensitive skin behind your ear, "Come on. Want you to wreck those pretty little panties for me."

And he slips a hand between your bodies, under the waistband of your low-rise jean skirt, and curls two fingers into you, coating them liberally before he slip-slides them up a fraction and begins rubbing your clit in slow, delirious circles.

You shudder against him, nails digging into his back over his t-shirt. God, his jeans are ruined, the wet stain spreading, and, shit, fuck, he hears you choke on a moan as your body stiffens in ecstasy.

He slams his mouth to yours just as you cry out, swallowing the rest of the sound before anyone can hear it. Wally gentles the kiss, parts with a smack, and rests his forehead against yours while you catch your breath.

"Such a good girl," He praises, combing your hair back with his clean hand, thumb smoothing across the arc of your cheek. Careful. Kind. A ruse because then he drops to his knees, slides his hands up your skirt, and yanks your panties down to your ankles.

You step out of them, a little lightheaded, a lot spent, not even bothering to complain when he shoves them in his pocket. Wally maneuvers you to the door with a hand on your ass and a bite to your shoulder, says he'll see you in class—that he has to change into his gym shorts because of the mess you made.

"Your fault," You remind him, and hell yeah it is, he already wants to do it again.

He takes care of himself under a lukewarm shower and, ten minutes later waltzes into History late, shit-eating grin wide, dismissing Ms. Fields' warnings with a loose salute. He slides into his seat at the back of the class where he revels in the looks the other students give him. That Janet bores into the side of his head.

Wally's mouth is still sticky—he was careful not to get it wet—the taste of your lip gloss syrupy-sweet whenever he presses his lips together. He can't get enough, wants more—needs more—the thought loud and all-consuming.

He answers Ms. Fields when she calls on him, reciting what he knows about the Dust Bowl, but as soon as Ms. Fields moves on, his eyes skate back to you. And Janet's right there, sitting next to him, watching him watch you. Outright. Shameless.

When you peek over your shoulder, he holds your gaze as he licks his lips with intention, the action layered with all the dirty fantasies he's had since walking into the room.

There's a fresh sheen of gloss on a smile that raises one corner of your mouth as you pick up what Wally's putting down.

Janet seethes in her seat.

🧿___________________________

note: to the delicious soul who sent me the prompt, i hope you enjoyed this fill 💙🩵🤍

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

[npookie0]

okay…… i might be onto something or on something, but kc but highschool au !!?

Serial killers but put them in an high school.

Okay so who's what <3 Ronin Beaufort - your bad boy who's a delinquent, he's also mathematically smart and attends literature class for shits and giggles. Angel | Maria de la Rosa - the school's popular girl, interested in media, has a YouTube channel, she's asked by the school's photography club to model for them, attends social classes. V | Valentin Viljoen - Student council's president, helps anyone who needs his help, his morals are strong, too strong sometimes, law and social focused subjects. Misaki - The weird and silly art kid, fails math class, art club's vice president, goes to artistic classes. Luca - The loud sports guy, has a lot of friends, athletic, is friends with the quiet exchange student from France. Feli - French, exchange student, biology and chemistry are her strong suit, she's interested in pyrotechnics, loner, her only friends are Luca and Angel. Vince - Geography teacher and the class' supervising teacher, married and has two kids, his lessons are mostly about his wife, sunsets and kids. Ai Hua - Chemistry teacher, secretive, shipped with prof. Vince, (Married to him but the kids don't have to know that)

Broken lovers. - Angel x Ronin.

"Well, well. Look who it is! The school's queen bee herself!"

His voice rang in Angel's ears as she entered the detention class, it was Maria's first ever detention, and she didn't even deserve it! That guy! He was trying to touch her friend, so she obviously stepped in and if words aren't working, then fists are. And now, she's here. Her phone in the teacher's hands, she could only sit there for another three hours and "rethink her behaviour".

"Oh shut up Beaufort."

Beaufort, the guy who spends more time in detention than any other student, sometimes he deserves it, sometimes he doesn't. He isn't a bad person, Angel thinks that he's just misunderstood but she isn't so willing to see for herself.

"Awh? What got Saint Maria so on the edge?"

He stood up when he saw her going towards a seat far away from his, he was in the mood to annoy someone, and someone who Ronin saw as a privileged girl with the silver spoon was perfect for that. He took the seat next to her and titled his head to the side when he saw how upset she looked.

"C'mon, spill your guts. What could the good girl have done to end up here with the school's filthy rot?"

Angel gave him the biggest side eye she had ever gave anyone, his "edgy buy" type of speech was giving her the ick, how could anyone speak like that and keep a straight face? But he wasn't wrong, she heard the teachers use worse names when they were talking about him, so to call himself filthy rot was almost a compliment. Maria sighed, maybe ranting to Ronin would let her nerves out? She couldn't record a new vlog with this anger boiling in her veins and burning her body alive.

"One of the basketball team assholes wasn't keeping his hands to himself when my friend was telling him to leave her alone, he wasn't listening so I had to use other means of explanation, He ended up with a broken nose and I ended up here." She paused and scoffed, her expression showing anger, irritation. "Fucking hell, he was the one harassing her, but I'm the one being punished? Men are so privileged!"

Ronin watched her outburst, smirk forming on his lips. Oh this is interesting. The school's little miss perfect punching someone? Ronin would never believe anyone if they told him so. He clicked his tongue and looked up at the ceiling.

"I hope his little pathetic ego was broken then. Because how could a big strong guy let a tiny little woman ever punch him?" He chuckled. "If you want your reputation to stay clean doll, I may throw in some punches for you."

He outstretched his hand to her. Angel looked at his hand, then at his face, and with a slight smile accepted his hand.

"Oh? You want to do the dirty work for me?"

She asked in her signature sweet tone.

"Wouldn't want school's favourite girl to get her hands dirty, now would we?"

Angel giggled in reply. What a funny guy, she thought to herself.

And that's how their friendship started.

They met up after school, mostly after Ronin left the detention, he really was there a lot. Their relationship was kept a secret, or so they thought it wasn't hard to notice the small smiles and glances, they should really learn how to keep things a secret. Ronin was intrigued with Maria, for someone who played the role of a saint, someone who's sweet like an angel, she was really blunt with him; swearing and ranting on the guys she has to deal with, shouting from rooftops whenever Ronin took her to one, kicking walls angrily. Her show of emotion was like a reward for Ronin, the stoic girl was raw with him, he could see her true self. Of course he didn't know everything, he didn't know about how hard she was pushing herself to work, how destructive her perfectionist nature was. But he held his secrets too, Maria wasn't aware of his grotesque, she didn't need to know that Ronin was living as someone else in the past, for now at least.

Ronin was sitting on the floor, Angel was sitting on the bed behind him, her hands in his hair. They spent time like this whenever Angel needed to talk about things that she never shared with anyone, be it an annoying asshole or a weird message from a creepy fan she received. Ronin let her play with his hair, make them into little braids or just brushing them with her fingers, it was a pleasant feeling. He didn't need to say anything, of course he wouldn't be himself if he didn't drop a comment in his style, but he knew that Maria didn't need comfort, she just wanted to be listened to, for someone to hear her.

"Ro… Why is this world built around men?"

She sighed, exhaustion heard in her voice. She was just telling him about how one of the guys from school tried to sneak into the girls' locker room, his argument for that was 'but I'm trans, you're not transphobic Maria right?' Fortunetely the teacher yelled at him and he didn't enter. But if only a man could stop another man from doing something like that, then how could women ever stay safe? Maria tried to bring it up with the headmaster but he just waved his hand dismissively and told her to leave the boys be.

Ronin titled his head back, the top of his head resting against Maria's knees.

"Dunno, wish I knew that too babe." He clicked his tongue. "This world is a fucking trashcan, people mixed up together, paper next to glass, brand new toy next to rotten food."

Angel giggled at his words.

"Again with the edgy bull Ro? Wow, maybe I should write that down and ask your literature teacher to hang these wonderful quotes up?"

She joked and leaned forward, her face hoovering above Ronin's. She felt so comfortable with him, he was the only guy who ever let her be herself with him, gave her this feeling of safety and freedom. Her heart was always beating louder whenever they were in close proximity, Ronin's casual flirting was making her face heat up, and he used it against her. That's when it hit her.

She likes him. She liked this asshole, this annoying bastard who never fails to support her.

Her face heated up when she realised that she was looking at Ronin's lips dangerously long.

"If you wanna kiss me, then do it. Show what a strong girl you are Maria."

Ronin whispered, his eyes locked into hers. This caused a shiver to run down her spine, why did he read her so well?

"Oh? So you want the queen bee to kiss you?"

She answered, her tone teasing after she got herself together.

"Hah, why not. I'll run her with my rot, make it her safe haven, filth will be like a warm home and I will be the centre of it."

"Oh shut up Beaufort."

The exact words she said on their first meeting, now she really made him shut up, with her lips against his.

Chaos Incarnates. - Misaki x Ronin

Misaki would never expect themselves to stand in front of their boyfriend's, Ronin Beaufort's door, breath heavy, tear stains on their cheeks.

They were just done with a phone call with their parents, they just came out as non binary and the only thing they heard in answer was the beeping sounds of the call ending. Their own parents didn't accept them, they blocked their number, blocked them anywhere they had them. Misaki felt so miserable, they just needed acceptance was it so much?

Ronin opened the door to his dorm, his roommate Luca was nowhere to be seen, probably trying to get Feli's attention again. Ronin looked down at his partner, seeing them in that state was definitely not ideal and somehow he didn't need to ask to guess what happened. After all they were happily telling him about calling her parents just yesterday. This image was the exact opposite to how they usually looked, Misaki was usually covered in paint, haired messed, pencils and brushes somewhere in their pockets because they forgot to put them away and a big smile on their face, never leaving.

Ronin and Misaki were the schools chaotic duo, leaving them alone for five minutes would probably result in the school setting on fire. Once they were put together in detention and the blackboard fell to the floor because Misaki tried to show Ronin that they could climb on it, they in fact did… and ended up with a twisted ankle.

But this Misaki was different, they were in pieces, broken by their parents' reaction, by how they couldn't even be told it to their face because they're in a boarding school in the USA and their parents are in Japan, on the other side on the world. They just wanted to hear it, see the reaction, anything but just see that their messages couldn't be delivered.

"Ronin… I… I fucked up."

They sniffed and clung onto him, their arms wrapping around him as they poured their heart out, letting every emotion leave their body. Ronin pulled them into his dorms, kicking the doors close and helping them sit down on his bed. They didn't let go, no, they held onto him like he's their only life line now.

"Misaki, breath in and out."

He said, cradling them and rubbing their back with his hand. They were practically choking on their tears, so breathing was really needed now.

Slowly they calmed down, still sobbing into Ronin's chest.

"I can't fucking believe this… Not only did I probably fail my math exam I also lost my parents util they'll need me for something again."

They sniffed, looking up at Ronin.

"This sucks so much, and hurts… even more than that."

Ronin cupped their face with his hand and kissed their forehead.

"Hey, I'm a professional in losing parents, you're not so alone here."

He said, his tone light, but worry still present in his gaze.

"You're such an asshole."

They mumbled and elbowed him.

"That's what you love about me, my chaotic partner."

"More like partner in crime."

They snorted out.

"Yeah same shit, go to sleep, or you won't make it for that art competition or whatever that was."

"You want to kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid." V x Ronin

Valentin entered the student council, his gaze falling at the guy sitting in his chair, his clothes dark, spiky, screaming trouble from miles away. Ronin Beaufort. The vile of his existence, the sole school's reputation destroyer and the biggest troublemaker V has ever met. His grin made Valentin want to punch him, but he had to be better than that. Stay calm, don't give in into his provocation. That's what he was telling himself, making sure to remember that Ronin just wanted to rile him up, provoke him.

"So, you're here again Beaufort."

He said and tossed the file of Ronin's documents onto the desk, not even commenting on the seat Ronin chose to wait for him in.

"Awh, we both know how much you missed me, you just love seeing my face dontcha?"

Valentin's eye twitched when he heard that, oh how he wanted to wipe that smirk off of Ronin's face, see him apologise for all he did and get punished, unfortunately he could only wish for it now, but maybe someday in the future he will be the one making sure that Ronin ends up in jail if he becomes a criminal how he's destined to.

"Just fill the report Beaufort, write the usual lie and leave me alone."

He crossed his arms over his chest, a long sigh leaving his lips. Ronin's presence alone was exhausting to V, his loud and vile behaviour were enough to suck out all off Valentin's energy.

"You want to kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid."

Ronin's words caused Valentin to back away from the desk he was standing by.

"What sort of nonsense are you spewing?"

The warmness on his face was making him feel embarrassed. Great, now that asshole will have a new reason to make his life miserable, how mortifyingly thrilling. He cough, trying to turn the delinquent's attention away from his word's affects on himself.

"Just get the hell out Beaufort, and pray that I won't see you here again."

He said and watched Ronin stand up and walk around the desk to stand in front of him.

"Yeah, yeah, you say the same bullshit every time I'm here." He chuckled and pushed one of V's braids to the side, earning himself a scowl. "See you soon goody two shoes."

The next few days were terrible for Valentin, Ronin was getting himself in even more trouble, ending up in the student council's room even more than before. And the worst part? He was flirting with V, trying to make him flustered and always getting the result he wanted. Valentin was gritting his teeth, trying to appear calm and collected. Of course Ronin saw through that, it was impossible for a person like Valentin to hide his feelings, that's why it was so entertaining for Ronin, just watching the ever so calm and helping Valentin be so angry that he wants to punch him? Oh that was the best thing, the satisfaction was indescribable.

"Oh V, V, poor little V. Come on, we both know you want to feel my lips on yours."

Ronin said when V was giving him another scolding for 'saying nonsense', he would be lying if he said that V wasn't attractive, oh he was. And it made it all even better for Ronin, seeing the burning fire in V's eyes, even if that fire was hate, it didn't matter. What mattered was that it was all meant for him, he was the only one who could get these reactions out of Valentin and he loved it.

"You're delusional."

Valentin said, his eyes never leaving Ronin, even when he stood inches away from him, his body too close to his. That proximity made his face heat up.

"You want me, you know you want me. You want to see if I'm not right, you want to feel my lips and know that you are correct about hating me."

He whispered. Apparently it was enough for Valentin, he really did close the small gap between them, catching Ronin's lips in a kiss. Oh he's terrible, Ronin thought to himself and barely kept his smirk back, he held Valentin by the back of his head, not letting him break the kiss. Ronin was about to give him the best kissing experience of his life.

That kiss was heated, Ronin puling on Valentin's lower lip to slip his tongue into his mouth. V desperately trying to have the upper hand but Ronin wasn't going to give up. He kept Valentin blocked between himself and the desk.

Finally they had to pause, panting heavily, a thick streak silva being the only proof of what just happened.

"Hah, you really did want that kiss, didn't you pretty prince?"

To help a lost cause. - Misaki x V

Per usual Valentin was walking around the library, looking for a new book to find, but instead of a book he found a student. Crying in a corner with a paper next to them, it was a test paper marked '5/80'. Valentin winced seeing that, of course he knew that many students were failing, but he never saw any that reacted this badly. He felt like he should try to do something to help them out. He crouched down next to the student and tapped them gently on their shoulder.

"Um, excuse me.. uh do you need help?"

He asked awkwardly, talking to strangers in situations like these wasn't his strong suit, but he had to push through it. The student looked up at him, their eyes red and puffy from crying, their sweater wet from wiping tears in it, they were shaking. To put it simply, they were a mess.

"And can you make me magically better at maths?"

The question sounded offensive, but V understood that they felt a lot of things at once and could need someone to pour their frustrations onto.

"I can help you study actually. I'm already doing tutoring, I can tutor you too."

He said, the person shook their head.

"I'm short on money, I can barely cover the dorms and school fees."

They said and looked down at their feet, probably ashamed after admitting that.

"I'm not doing it for money, I want to help you…"

"My name is Misaki."

They said when Valentin paused not knowing how to call them.

"So, how about I help you with your studies Misaki?"

He asked.

Misaki thought about it, there was no real reason for them to refuse, he looked like someone academically smart and he offered his help for free… there would be only guilt for wasting his time, but he didn't look like he cared about his time.

"Mmm. alright."

They nodded their head and sniffed. Maybe they could really get better at math? Maybe their parents would be proud?

Misaki were meeting up at the library three times a week, it was supposed to be only one time in the original plan but after seeing how far behind Misaki is in their studies, Valentin decided on three times. The tutoring was a struggle, Misaki was easily distracted, gave up quickly and called themselves stupid for every little mistake. Valentin had to take a few ten minutes breaks to explain to Misaki that it really is okay to make mistakes and to let them get back into studying after that break. It actually worked some wonders, Misaki wasn't so stressed about math anymore, they got slightly better marks, but they insisted on having the tutoring until their midterm exam, afraid of failing it without Valentin's help.

"Vvvv I don't get this!"

Misaki whined after they couldn't get the task right.

"Show me."

He said and looked over their shoulder at what they wrote… well he wouldn't understand if he had to learn from their notes too.

"Try again, but this time slower and plan everything out Misaki, here-" He drawn a small box. "Do this part." He circled one of the beginning steps. "Section everything so you will be able to read it clearer."

Misaki nodded eagerly and got back to work. After a while a happy exclaim was heard.

"Yay! I got it right, thanks V, my hero!"

They chuckled and leaned it to hug him, laughing when he stopped them with his hand.

"Continue Misaki or you'll get distracted again."

Really, they were worse than a curious child when it came to getting distracted, any small noise could make them turn their attention somewhere else entirely. It was really hard to work around but once V got a hand of it, he could control Misaki's attention span and make sure that they're doing their work.

Finally, the big day of Misaki's midterm exam results arriving. Valentin was standing in front of the school, Misaki told him to wait there, and to bring a pack of tissues just in case. He was tapping his foot against the ground, looking for the short Asian in the crowd. Finally he saw them, running out with the biggest smile on their lips, they ran up to him and practically jumped on him. He caught them instinctively.

"Ohgodohgodohgodohgod! We did it V! I got the best grade in my class!"

They were beaming, proud and happy. It was a beautiful sight, especially after seeing them so anxious and burned out.

"Thank you so much for your help."

They said and looked into his eyes.

"I will repay your kindness, I swear."

Angelic muse. - Misaki x Angel

Angel was sitting on a chair in the art club's room, Misaki asked her to pose for them, and who was she to turn down her partner when they asked her to pose? They always made sure that she was comfortable, telling her to take breaks, giving her drinks or food. Sometimes Angel walked up to the canvas and looked at how far in the painting was.

"It's so beautiful Misaki."

She said and kissed Misaki's cheek.

"You're such a good painter love."

She smiled and hugged them, not caring about the paint that could get on her clothes or skin.

"Only because of my amazing model."

They replied with a cheeky grin.

"If you're tired we can wrap it up and go out for a walk."

"Yeah I could use a break…"

Angel sighed and Misaki immediately cupped her face with their paint stained hands, worry in their eyes and written all over their face.

"What happened? Are your 'fans' still acting like disgusting creeps?"

They asked, irritation joining in to the worry. Angel's so called 'fans' were truly disgusting, sending explicit 'fan art' or sending messages about how they would love to do things with her. They all made Misaki so angry, but Angel just told them that she accepted it.

"No… it's the guys from the football team, they were just eugh…"

That was enough for MIsaki to understand.

The football team were also really wonderful people, sexist assholes who tried to get girls to date them or have sex with them, Angel being the most commonly picked victim because she's just so hot and wants them. Sometimes Misaki steps in or sometimes they don't need to because the school's biggest delinquent is already dealing with the problem, while breaking his nose and beating him up. Misaki was glad that Angel had a friend like Ronin, at least they could be sure that their girl will be kept safe.

"Oh, so a walk and something sweet?"

Misaki asked and Angel answered with a short chuckle.

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart Misaki, thank you."

"Anything for you, my angel."

Angel blushed at the nickname.

"Who gave you the right to be this cute?"

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA (30f) for losing my cool/snapping at my roommate and friend (30m, who I will call Kyle) because he was too loud playing games online with his friends?

For context, in case it's needed: this happened a couple months ago, but it's been on my mind. We are both autistic and thus got a late start in our adult lives, in several ways. We have been friends for 10 years and have lived together for roughly 7 of them, on and off (we adopted 2 cats together many years ago, its just easier like this so we dont have to separate them or force one of us to be away from the cats. we love them very much. kind of a coparenting situation lol). Kyle has a salaried tech job that's remote for 70% of the time, and I've recently become a full-time online college student after failing to "make it" without a degree.

We live in a tiny 2-bedroom house that Kyle's family owns. We're only charged for utilities, which is why neither of us are leaving anytime soon (contrary to what you might assume, Kyle does not make a lot of money), especially since it's giving me the opportunity to go to school full-time and not worry about rent. Kyle helps me a lot with groceries and other necessities and I do most of the chores.

So we are always basically on top of each other, and sometimes we get on each other's nerves. We try to be respectful of each others' space, but it's hard because there is not much space in the first place.

I had a really busy day studying and doing homework, which is basically every day for me, since I'm taking 6 classes, 4 of which are STEM classes. So I tend to fall asleep early if I'm not unintentionally pulling all-nighters. I was trying to sleep when this happened around 9pm.

He usually closes his door because he knows he can be very loud, but it doesn't help much. I ended up having to close my own door to try and drown out some of his yelling and laughing, which I understand is going to happen and I try not to hold it against him.

But then he opened his door and left it wide open, so I could hear everything, like he was in the same room. Something really funny must have happened because he started scream-laughing.

Despite this being a semi-regular weekly occurrence, I was really startled. I figured, it probably wasn't intentional and he'll try to quiet down and close his door. I tried to relax and as soon as I started to fall asleep, he did it again, except louder.

This time he didn't stop, he was full-on screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs. Kinda like those game streamers/youtubers where literally all they do is scream the whole time? Very similar. My cat, who was asleep under the blanket on top of me, got startled awake and scratched the shit out of my leg.

I think this all triggered a "fight" response because I was suddenly just so incredibly pissed at Kyle, which I tried to get under control, but he would not stop screaming and I literally could not hear myself think.

(I cannot wear earplugs or have anything in/covering my ears for huge sensory reasons.)

Then my cat wanted to leave the room to see what the commotion was, so I had to open the door, which gave me a direct line of sight to to Kyle at his computer.

I walked over to his doorway. Tried to knock and call his name, but he didnt notice with his noise cancelling headphones on. So I slammed my hand against his door to get his attention & yelled "Hey! Shut the fuck up, Kyle!"

He looked surprised to see me and laughed and kinds waved it off and said "sorry, it got a little intense" and he started to explain what they were doing.

I cut him off and said "I don't care. Shut the hell up." He said he could close his door again, and I said "No, you need to stop. Just stop! You're freaking the cats out too!" and I pointed to my leg with huge bloody scratch marks, shut his door, went back to my room, shut my own door. And of course after that I had adrenaline coursing through my body and I couldn't fall asleep anyway.

After that, I didnt hear a single sound from his room apart from an occasional quiet laugh. I started to feel guilty. I think I overreacted and ruined his fun. I know this is his way of blowing off steam halfway through the work week.

I also felt embarrassed because his friends probably heard me throwing a fit. We have lived with them before, and they're exactly that loud every single night. I have had to ask them to quiet down multiple times, and Kyle told me later on that gave them the impression that I'm. Well, "neurotic, controlling bitch" was heavily implied. Kyle is usually a lot more chill, but being around these guys influences him to act more like them.

But, I guess being loud while having fun isn't a crime, especially when it's not even 10pm yet. I feel like I proved his friends right, maybe.

The next morning I apologized, he apologized too, and everything seems to be good between us, but it's been a while and he's a lot quieter during game night now. He's such a reserved and stressed out person, he hardly ever laughs except when he's playing games, so I feel like I destroyed an important outlet.

I told another friend what happened and she said I didn't overreact at all and she would have flipped out way sooner if her husband did that. (Not sure it's comparable I mean we aren't married lol) And for the record, this friend and her husband were once part of a now-fractured friend group including Kyle and his game night friends, but grew apart, for a lot of reasons, but I think mainly because the Loud Gamer Friends never really grew up while everyone else matured and moved on to different phases in life.

Basically my friends current impression of Kyle is that he is a decent person but incredibly emotionally stunted and feels like he may unintentionally cope in ways that often hurt me without caring as much as she thinks he should. Which....feels partially accurate, I guess. But isn't that placing too much responsibility on him for my wellbeing? He does a lot for me, so it felt like an unfair thing to say.

My mom on the other hand, seems to fully think I am an asshole fun-ruiner. She thinks I should have tried harder to calm down. Maybe I should have approached him sooner - nicely.

And I agree. He probably would have tried his best to oblige even if he couldn't fully succeed. But that's the reason I didn't bother - in the past he has only been able to honor that kind of request for maybe 10-15 minutes, then forgets, and it's exhausting to keep reminding him.

Anyway... what does everyone here think?

[gojoshooter]

You've Got it From Here — Gojo

Pairing : unsealed!gojo x dead!nanami

A/N : a (better) reaction by gojo after he learns about nanami’s death cause this shit was keepin me up :D

WARNINGS : crying, manga spoilers

dead!nanami wasn't the first thing gojo looks for after being released from prison realm

unsealed!gojo would look around, sure, his eyes searching for the grumpy-looking young man in his weird signature glasses

unsealed!gojo would then give up his little search, attention back on his students that approach him timidly after his release

unsealed!gojo who one day at shoko's after getting his treatment brings up about not seeing nanami, and watches shoko put a face she uses to tell about a patient’s demise

“...i’m surprised no one told you about his death yet, satoru. take it easy though.”

unsealed!gojo who pauses, frowns... he knows either this had to be some kind of insensitive joke. that, or shoko has lost it after the shibuya incident

unsealed!gojo feeling that tiny hint of panic kicking deep in his guts, it was like your mom telling you she removed your bed from your bedroom... sounded that silly

unsealed!gojo who sees no signs of mockery, watches ichiji’s guilty sad eyes that seemed too real to be the part of a silly joke, & he nods

unsealed!gojo who feels like struggling to swallow a still beating heart, trying so hard not let his emotions take over... to accept it, let it go, fucking let it go & not phase him

unsealed!gojo who doesn't know why the idea of nanami's death would effect him to this level because.... he was just a junior from highschool, right?

dead!nanami who wasn't just his junior but the only person gojo had besides shoko, & understood gojo's need of being extra clingy as a coping mechanism after geto's death... he never questioned or complained

dead!nanami who gojo believed to never fail any task, like a child who believes in their superhero... he was a perfect man in his eyes

unsealed!gojo who tries not to break down at the thought of his junior on the brink of death, gojo knows he was the type to die with a proud smile, maybe daydreaming about things he cherished and things he wanted to do before dying one unfortunate day

dead!nanami 's death that truly registers in his mind when he stops in his way to his dead friend's dorm, realizing nanami can't comfort him about his own death

unsealed!gojo who develops some new habits, like closing the door of his room to take out old photo albums or his sns to look up old posts and tweets, chuckling to himself at how sulky & peevish was his highschool friend

unsealed!gojo who doesn't realize when water brims his eyes watching all the photos from the past, as all he could feel was his jaw hurting because he couldn't stop smiling looking back at the memories

unsealed!gojo wouldn't even wipe the tears off his face, trying not to acknowledge them because of his silly little belief that nanami would just come back if he wouldn't accept his death...

A/N: fin! this was for sweet lil @nanamikentoseyebags who asked me to make a hc about it, there u go <33

Tags: @luckimoon @pretty-toru @robynnnhooddd

[seosracha]

OUR SUMMER (PREVIEW) - jake sim x reader

PUBLISHED HERE! - link

SYNOPSIS- after 4 long years, this was the end. This was the last summer before everyone went off to university, and to fully honor it, you decide to make a bucket list, completing every point through the entirety of summer while also discovering feelings that were hidden for so long.

PAIRING- jake sim x fem!reader

GENRE- friends to lovers, summer romance, fluff, highschool/college students au, oneshot

WARNINGS- sexual jokes, alcohol use + more tba!

TAGLIST- open for anyone who's interested ! send me and ask to be added!

[...]

Heeseung chose a college in town, deciding to do pedagogics on the side while he still pursued his soccer career. Jay and Sunghoon also chose a college nearby, only one town away, that meaning the three of them would be around most of the time.

Jake on the other side had some sick ambitions. When he set his mind on UCLA, he did everything in his power to get in. And so he did. There was nothing wrong in that, but how could he leave them? How could he leave you?

"Let's make a bucket list" Jay said as all of you, plus your best friend, Yunjin, hogged the living room couch in Jake's house.

Another reason you didn't want Jake to leave. That damn couch. Everything in the 4 years of your friendship probably happened or started on that couch.

"We make one every summer" Heeseung said shoving some popcorn into his mouth "And always end up freestyling it" he added unclearly, hence all the food in his mouth.

"You're disgusting" Yunjin inquired, pointing out Heeseung's disgusting habit.

He just mumbled a 'fuck you' in response and shoved another handful into his mouth.

"But this summers different" Jay said, reminding you and everyone else once again that this was the last truly youthful summer your friend group would share.

You knew very well that everything would change when they go away to college. Obviously, they could come home for summer, but new friends, a buzzing, new, shiny social life were only a couple of reasons for them to not visit so often when summer comes around next year. The adult life they were about to step into was only gonna allow them to finally party all night long, go on roadtrips across the country and meet people who would show them the other side of life.

So Jay was right, this summer was different, cause it was the last one.

"I'm down" Jake said, grabbing a pen and paper from the drawer. He passed it to Jay, who wrote a big, and definitely sloppy, 'OUR SUMMER'.

"Skydiving" Sunghoon said excitedly, pitching in the first idea.

"You know damn well" Yunjin said "Let's make it a tiny bit more realistic" Sunghoon just furrowed his eyebrows and continued to put on his thinking face.

"Let's do a sleepover. You know, like the one's we'd do in our childhood. Blanket fort and all" you said, turning your face to Jay, as he was the designated leader for this bucket list making.

"I like that" Jake said, giving you a cheeky smile.

You'd rather he be rude towards you than give you all these weird signals. None of the guys would be as nice to you as he was. What man would agree with you on everything, bring you anything you wanted at any time, give you rides at the latest hours, handpick flowers for you on a random Wednesday and buy you things just because they reminded him of you if he didn't like you like that? Yet still, you were too slow to catch on.

"Sleepover. Blanket fort and all" Jay mumbled as he wrote down the first point to your list. "How about we drive down to that lake, get some beer, talk and shit?" he asked after he finished writing.

"With your wackass, dodgy looking fake ID, I'm guessing" Yunjin said, laughing.

"Give me some credit, it works every fucking time" Jay answered, pulling it out from his pocket.

"Okay James Blunderbuss, write it down" Heeseung, said examining the ID "Anton really did you dirty with that last name"

TO BE CONTINUED.........

[beetlebug-bii]

Feral Child MC Arrives

Part one? Let me know if you want more feral child MC with their older brothers. Felt bored so have this funky little crack prompt.

Notes: Gender Neutral MC, slight cussing, written for fun, enjoy!

okay so moving to the Devildom was a whole choice you made

Like yeah you were an orphan

and like maybe- MAYBE YOU WERE A LITTLE UPSET WITH MISS VELA THE HEADMASTER OF THE ORPHANAGE OKAY

MAYBE SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE LET THE OTHER BRATTY KIDS COME AND JUST STEAL YOUR ONLY PAIR OF SHOES LIKE WHO DOES THAT??? YOU ONLY GOT ONE PAIR??? THAT WAS A TARGETED CRIME.

so maybe in response you didn't tell anyone that you- yes YOU got accepted into a ROYAL ACADEMY.

Steal my shoes? fine whatever, guess who gets to go to ROYAL SCHOOL

NOT YOU LOSERS

HA

your face is probably already on milk cartons...

Rest in peace MC you can already hear those shoe stealers saying while wearing YOUR FUCKIN SHOES

But then like you actually showed up

And you aren't sure if you were met with like

Instant Karma for being petty or-

Anyways you're kind of sort of in hell

Whoopsies

It's okay though because you absolutely won over the highest demons in the Devildom

...wait actually thinking about it that really doesn't sound like a good thing-

Whatever

You're here, they love you!

You have been slaying since you arrived.

You walked into the student council room day one, a pair of sunglasses and a mocha latte from Starbucks in hand

You stole that latte too, like you were in the hall and just snatched it from this loser with white hair-

oh shit

Heyyyyyy

You were quick to find out

The demon you stole from was actually Mammon, the avatar of greed and your babysitter.

Let's just say Mammon wasn't especially happy about being a little thiefs babysitter

Which may or may not have received the MOST bombastic side eye from his five other brothers.

Aside from that though, how did your arrival go you may be wondering?

Lucifer just sat with his head in his hands, so upset that they have two children in this program- but damn at least one of them was an angel, then there was you- only comparable to a small glass rodent

Levi was sitting dreading having to move all his collectibles and games and- you know what?? maybe he will just invest in a security system...he so doesn't want to be a babysitter...whatever its Mammon's job..........fuck he was gonna have to be the babysitter!!! Mammon never does his job!!!

Satan could have cared less if you were three or eighty-seven, you're just some human and he was so ready to ask so many questions (unfortunately for him you're kind of a little sarcastic shithead / affectionate. he ain't getting any reasonable answers but he doesn't know that yet shhh let him be happy for like three minutes before he realizes.

Asmo? Asmodeus. My dude. Was so. Fucking. Excited. He was immediately squeezing you and pinching your cheeks and taking pictures of you in your little sunglasses. It's been FOREVER since Asmo has had the chance to absolutely coddle a little sibling. He was the first to just accept that yeah, this human is ours, we aren't giving it back. He was already planning to take you shopping for new clothes, and new furniture, you are going to be the most spoiled kid in the universe...and all you have to give in return is like any sense of privacy. Now smile for the camera!

Beel. Sweet sweet beel. Was also so quick to accept you. Not quite as part of the family, but as a new little friend. He was a bit worried to get close because you're just so tiny, but he quickly found out you were feral when he went in for a handshake and you just...bit him. For why? Why would you do this? Like he's fine, he barely felt it, but like...does he taste good? Did you want to be picked up? You were like a smaller Belphie with more energy...that thought made him smile

Your first day with the brothers was quite flabbergasting for everyone involved

You stole from Mammon, bit Beel, scampered around the floor, chewed on Diavolo's jacket, escaped for a while

By the end of the day the brothers were exhausted from chasing you

Its been too long since a kid has been around

They are far too out of practice

Mega L for them, while they're sleeping you're gonna make pancakes

Do you know how to use the stove?

Nah

Are you confident regardless

Unfortunately yeah

Good luck to the brothers

They're gonna need it...

...both for technically kidnapping you and because they have to deal with you-

[welcometololaland]

wip wednesday

y'all - i feel like i've been so fucking annoying lately but i'm here to request one thing of you - give me some juicy snippets to read because i'm finally on top of my shit. and i've always wanted to start wip wednesday (for all i know someone has already started it but don't rain on my parade! let me live in denial) and now i maybe can. This is from ALTA which is (omg) so close to being posted. 10 days. fuck. i'm not ready (i am).

“She’s really gone, isn’t she?” TK asks, his voice breaking as his head remains burrowed into Carlos’ shoulder. He’s stopped shaking now, which Carlos takes to be a good sign, but he’s cried so persistently that the whole front of Carlos’ jacket is wet. 

He pauses, leans back and cups TK’s face in his hands, using his thumbs to brush away a few errant tears. He briefly considers making a passionate speech about TK’s mother being dead but not gone – living on in his heart – but then he decides for pragmatism. He thinks TK will appreciate that more, anyway.

“Yes,” he says simply. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to accept.”

TK sniffs, his glazed eyes staring helplessly into Carlos’ own. “What do I do now, Carlos?”

Carlos sighs, brushing away another of TK's tears. “I’m not really sure, TK,” he admits. “But right now, I can take you home. It might be nice to cry somewhere that isn’t your high school computer lab.”

A tiny, hesitant smile appears at the corners of TK’s mouth. “I think my dad will be relieved,” he says. “He keeps asking why I haven’t cried yet, like it's some kind of crime.”

“Well, he’s definitely going to be pleased to see you,” Carlos points out, as TK nods tearfully. 

“Could you— Do you mind coming with me?” TK asks as Carlos steps back and drops his hands. “I don’t really want to be alone and my dad is driving me nuts. My other friends…they wouldn’t understand.”

“I hope they do understand, TK,” Carlos replies solemnly, collecting his books and following TK out of the darkened classroom. “I think everyone will do their best to support you.”

TK makes a non-committal sound as they walk down the empty hall – devoid of students – amplifying the sound of their sneakers on the linoleum. “Not like you,” he says, after a pause. “I know we’ve only been friends for a little bit, but you’re different.”

“Oh yeah?” Carlos asks, pushing open the front doors and following TK down the steps. “In what way?”

TK pauses, looking back up at Carlos as he descends the stairs, a pensive look on his face. “You’re good, Carlos,” he replies simply. “You’re good for me.”

Open tag for anyone to share but also some targeted attacks under the cut (with insane requests, feel free to ignore me)!!!

@theghostofashton (need some exes to lovers PLEASE), @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut (boxing AU boxing AU!), @goodways (got a tasty treat shannon?) @reyesstrand (food fic???) @strandnreyes (please don't hurt me but you can if you want) @rmd-writes (just because i love you) @heartstringsduet (FIRST AID?!) @carlos-in-glasses (what's next up CIG?) @birdclowns (your wip snippet game has me blurry eyed, i must know more) @fitzherbertssmolder (any comic progress?) @louis-ii-reyes-strand (been loving your snippets) @lilythesilly (fighter pilot AU?!) @kiloskywalker (tarlos fighter pilot AU????) @sanjuwrites (soulmates????) @three-drink-amy (teacher AU teacher AU teacher AU!!) @chicgeekgirl89 (any yachts about?) @lemonlyman-dotcom (some music fic for my ears???) @wandering-night19 (4 x 18 coda???) @thisbuildinghasfeelings (cross stitching update??!!!) @freneticfloetry (something from the soulmates timer fic???) @alrightbuckaroo (summer parisian au my beloved!!!!) @cha-melodius (you've got mail AU????) @redshirt2 (anything you would like to contribute, i'd just love you to keep feeding me!) @iboatedhere (how are those prompts???) @orchidscript (lovingly bullying you to keep writing) @marjansmarwani (i know the words are hard but also i am lovingly bullying you as well <3) @morganaspendragonss (has angst queen got anything this week?) @lightningboltreader (THAT ANGSTY ONE BED THING I AM SCARED BUT I WANT)