#i just know that if someone in the class uses it and theyre the only one they probably get bullied the fuck outta em for it :(

[fairy-ganj-mother]

the billionaires paying off the government to shape it to suit them will not voluntarily give up power, the working class must seize this power. trump does not stand for the average american but rather only serves to further divide the working class, by appealing overwhelmingly to folks that share his views of hatred and feeding them lies to make them believe their neighbor is the enemy instead of elon musk or jeff bezos. this distraction of in-fighting in the working class then diminishes the ability to organize and allows the mega-rich to do whatever they want behind the scenes. folks don't notice that these people are infringing on their rights because they're too concerned with harboring hate towards their immigrant neighbor or their liberal kids, who were never their enemy until trump told them so. it's all part of the plan to increase the divide between rich and poor and increase the power of the rich.

[triglycercule]

guys i havent written since may (for killer's birthday) but stupid silly swapinverse has been on my mind for a little bit and i threw together this silly (he has a panic attack and throws up) little short draft 4 swapinverse horror!!

-

“hah… ah… oh god… no, no, nonono…”

he ran. sprinted through the forest like a frightened deer, his demeanor that of prey, although his previous actions aligned more of a predator. panting and shaking, his mind cycled through countless variations of how to react to what just happened, what he just did.

how should he react? how could he react? it was impossible to tell for him in the panicked state. and as the trees in snowdin slowly began to surround him (but weren't they always doing that?), paranoia couldn't run anymore. he was surrounded, he was blocked off, he couldn't escape. not from horrortale, not from snowdin, not from the dusty graveyard he had just left it, and not from the blood smeared across his mouth.

“no, i- what did, what did i do? paps, snowdin, even-undick, no, it-”

paranoia’s incoherent rambles brought his hands to wander across his face, tugging at the massive hole in his skull spanning majority of the left side of his head. picking at the chipped bone didn't help, it never did, but a nervous habit was unbreakable, and he was more than nervous in this moment. in fact, quite terrified. everything was terrifying. he was terrifying. and as the slightest hint of red blood touched his sleeve, the once red, now magenta eye quickly locked onto it, and he couldn't hold it back anymore.

“fuck- oh god, no, aliza-!”

falling to his knees, a disgustingly gorey mess of red, pink, and black spilled from his mouth. sounds of retching and hurling were all that filled the empty forest, and paranoia couldn't bear to look down and see the mess he’d made. the mess he’s caused. wasted food, he would've said. but that statement normally only applied to others. he never imagined using it on himself. choking on his spit and certainly not his blood, tears fell from his eye, joining the vomit and blood seeping into the snow. strange. paranoia didn't think he had enough magic to even shed tears anymore. just for the bare necessities. he managed to surprise even himself, after all this time.

but could it be could be considered surprise, or rather terror? he fit up to his name, certainly horrified at his own actions. forcing out as much of the grossness he could that he’d just consumed, paranoia couldn't help but look down at what he’d done.

red. a lot of red. too much red. he’d never been queasy before, never. he had to adapt to it, being the one to hunt down humans that ran or sneak up on those when times got desperate. there was no time or need to be queasy at what he even considered his job before. a duty he had to do.

but now, there was too much red. far too much red. and he didn't know why, although he totally knew, but paranoia couldn't stomach it. he just threw his guts out (shouldn't they be aliza’s guts, or no?), and here he was, wanting to throw up until his SOUL shattered. his SOUL cycled through those strange 4 shapes, unsure of which to settle on. he couldn't blame it. paranoia himself was unsure of what was even going on anymore. he wanted to run, but was frozen. he wanted to scream, but didn't know who at.

everything was contradicting. everything was going on, and not enough was given for paranoia to understand how to deal with it. and with a muttered curse, he flopped on his side onto the somehow dry snow, losing consciousness in the haze of fear now intermingled with his SOUL.

-

ik theres probably grammar mistakes i wrote this on my phone,,,, but like idk. had idea for a little moment in paranoia's lore and i sure as hell didn't wanna draw it so i wrote it as an easier media! god this is so much easier compared to drawing idk why i dont do this more often (because youre lazy silly!) anyways swapinverse silly i love swapinverse. i've only thrown up like never so i dont know if this works. also never had a panic attack (i think) and AGAIN i dont know if this is accurate but whatever i dont write to be good i write for expressing my ideas. like everything i do

[quetiapinnapark]

how to live with the guilt of helping to launch a dogshit digital product for the most annoying and difficult users ever when i was an intern and doing my best except my best was a complete failure and at the same time live with the fact that this was not entirely my fault because literally no one told me things would go wrong and now i have to review the complete failure it was in an empty attempt to remodel the product without being able to fully adress the systemic problems that doom the user experience from the start <3 google search

[mourningcttlfsh]

sitting next to a random girl on the bus because of a field trip will have me thinking 'omg... do i finally get to be the protagonist of a yuri?' just for me to not talk to her at all and never even know her name

[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.” 

[rosebudfics]

Professor!reader and severus being married but hiding it from the students, bc they dont want the gossip and are just private people in general BUT one day sev forgets to take off his wedding ring and the golden trio go on this whole mission to find out who hes married to; completely freaking out when it turns out hes with reader cause theyre complete opposites while teaching

(Sorry if this is too long or doesnt make sense :^ i had this scenario in my head for some time lol)

Secret Lovers

Severus Snape x Professor! Reader

Warnings: use of the name "git" a lot lol, reader is the astronomy teacher but you can swap it out for any class, Snape smacks Ron and Harry

A/N: I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO MUCH OMG!?!?!?! also this isnt really set in any specific year but its more leaning towards where theyre older since snape you know.. hits ron and harry over the head and harry has the map <3

You and Severus had managed to keep your relationship secret for a couple years now, with the exception of only Minerva and Dumbledore knowing.

Why does anyone else need to know anyway? It was none of their business!

So one regular morning when you and Sev were getting ready for the day in the early hours of the morning, he had somehow forgotten to take his golden band off. You both would usually keep them in a little ring box at home so they were hidden but safe and put them back on at night, but today Severus had just forgotten to take it off.

You would bid your goodbyes at home before you left together, getting one last kiss in before heading back to Hogwarts, then Severus would put his usual cold face back on.

You both headed to your classrooms like normal, Severus still failing to notice the wedding band still on his finger.

When classes started, everything was going how it usually would: he would deduct house points, snapping at kids whenever they would interrupt his teaching, etc. That is until Hermione noticed a particular shine off her teachers hand.

Hermione looked closer before very quietly gasping. "Holy cricket!" She whispered so only Harry and Ron could hear her.

“What?” Ron asked curiously but not very quietly, earning the attention of Severus.

“On Professor Snape’s hand, he was wearing a wedding ring!” She said in a hushed voice.

“You must be crazy Herminone, there's no way that he’s married to someone.” Harry chuckled.

“Yeah, no ones gonna want to let alone be in any relationship with that old git-” Ron was interrupted by getting smacked over the head by Severus, followed up by Harry getting smacked as well.

Hermione just kept quiet, keeping her giggle to herself.

“Would you mind repeating yourself Mr. Weasley?” Severus sneered down at him.

“...no, sorry.” Ron grumbled.

“Mhm. 5 points from Gryffindor, and that's me being generous.”

After class, Ron, Hermione, and Harry all gathered at the library at break. “Are you sure you saw a ring, Hermione? Was it even on his ring finger?” Harry asked as he sat down some books in front of him.

“I'm certain! The real question is though, to who?” Hermione thought for a minute.

“Harry, why can't we just use your cloak to spy on him?” Ron questioned like it was obvious.

“Brilliant!” Harry exclaimed but Hermione smacked him in the arm.

“That's invading his privacy! It's terribly rude.” She scoffed.

Ron then mocked her, earning a smack. After a while of begs and pleas, she finally caved.

“Alright, alright!” She sighed.

They then all made their way back to the dorm to get everything they needed. Harry also grabbed the Marauders Map so it would be easier to find Snape. And then off they went on their little adventure to hunt down his wife.

They had to do some weaving and dodging to not bump into anyone (they bumped into Neville at some point, terrifying him) until they made it to the staff room. Harry looked down at his map to find Snape and you, they're astronomy teacher, alone.

“What are Professor Snape and Professor y/n doing together?” Ron asked in a confused voice.

Harry hushed him and then looked into the keyhole to find Snape and you talking to eachother.

“Are you sure no one saw the ring?” you asked again.

“Yes, dear, I am sure of it.” Snape said in a somewhat annoyed tone. “If someone did see it, I would be getting hounded with questions!”

“Yeah well not if all the students are terrified of you!” you sighed. “Look I'm not mad, I don't want you to think that, it's just we've gone this long keeping it secret it feels weird to just slip up like this”

Severus stepped towards you and grabbed your face in his hands. “Listen love, no one will know. Maybe in the future we can be more open about it.” He then bent down and kissed her gently, and you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer.

Harry gasped quietly and backed up. He was about to say something before he heard footsteps walking towards the door. “We gotta get outta here!”

They all then scurried off down the hall back to the dormitory.

“Harry, what did you see? What were they doing in there?” Ron asked.

“Its professor y/n, that's who he's married to!” Harry was slightly out of breath from running.

“Professor y/n?? But they're so.. so different!” Hermione was shocked.

“You must be seeing things mate, there's NO way Proffesor y/n is married to the old git.” Ron scoffed.

“I'm telling you! They were talking about how he had forgotten to take his ring off or something and then they kissed!” Harry gushed.

They then talked about why you would ever want to marry Snape for the rest of break. Interestingly enough they next class was with you!

Since you were an extremely nice and open teacher, they felt more comfortable talking to you about it.

"So professor y/n, have you been seeing anyone lately?" Ron asked before class actually started.

You were caught off guard to say the least. "Well... I dont really see how my romantic life concerns any of you," you laugh whole heartedly.

Ron then smirked. "You never denied it. Perhaps another Proffesor that teaches here!" Hermione pinched his side as a warning to shut up.

"I don't know what your getting at, Ron" you chuckle becoming a little worried.

"Well the man I'm thinking of is a mean, old, cranky git that likes potions-"

"Thats enough! You don't ever talk about another Proffesor like that!" You scolded him.

"Alright, sorry proffesor... but im right, aren't i?" Ron smirked.

Harry and Hermione perked up to listen.

You sighed, before making sure that no other student or teacher was around, nd then said "You must not tell anyone."

[sheyfu]

in sleepless nights, i find solitude in you

FEATURING itoshi sae, itoshi rin, oliver aiku, chigiri hyoma, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, and shoei barou

CW oliver aiku

SYNOPSIS what they like to do on sleepless nights with you

NOTE these are hcs and are not reflective of their characters!

⋆˚✿˖° itoshi sae - hearing you talk about your day

- a mundane, yet intimate moment between you two - he finds it so endearing when you talk about your day and get so passionate about it too - he just loves hearing your voice; the way you speak, the way your voice just sliiightly raises when you’re telling him about some person you abhor (big boy word), and the way you ask him for his thoughts on something you’re yapping about makes him feel like the luckiest guy in the whole world - you both end up not sleeping D: but it’s okay, he’s not complaining because it’s you

⋆˚✿˖° itoshi rin - binge watching horror movies

- you hate him for this. - but at the same time, you love it because he holds you close to him - he knows you’re scared, especially when it’s ass o’clock in the evening (more like morning) and your room’s only source of light is the television. so he holds you tight :D - he has the urge to make fun of you because you’re oh so scared, but he stops himself from doing so because he loves holding you close

⋆˚✿˖° oliver aiku - holding you close to him (in his words, spooning)

- surprisingly, he’s not horny  - i guess bc of practice, he’s tired and he just wants to de-stress and go on about his night without tiring himself out more, you included (LMAO NOT ME SPEAKING LIKE IM GANG W GREEN GALLAGHER) - so he holds you close :D  - and its not like the hold you close and talk about stuff type either - literally the hold you close and sit in silence type with occasional kisses from him :D 

⋆˚✿˖° chigiri hyoma - gossip (okay so some of you probably don't tolerate gossip but gossip culture has been SUUUUCH a big part of my life that i cant help but associate it w chigiri im so sorry you can bitch slap me for this LMAOAOAO ANWYAYS)

- he loves gossiping. he usually has THE ggoat (greatest gossip of all time) - this usually ranges from people he works closely with, or people he knows but that person doesn't know him but for some reason the news reached him LMAOAAOA  - for some reason, he also has visual references??? like if theyre related to texting he has screenshots of their convo???? if irl, he has pictures????? YOU DONT KNOW HOW HE GETS THOSE 😭😭 (based this hc off my friend who has everything for some reason 😭😭) - and most of the time theyre literally so mind-boggling you have to stop him and walk around the room to calm your beating heart down - he also loves using a soundboard while doing so LMOAOAOAO

⋆˚✿˖° mikage reo - slow dancing

- ah yes. the typical rich boy activities. - but like even if he wasnt born in that class (GANG DONT TWIST MY WORDS IM NOT A CLASSIST WLANSISOS), he'd most likely still love doing this (idk theres smth about him that js makes me think he would love dancing) - in the kitchen, dimmed lights, his hands on your waist, yours on his shoulders, herb alpert playing in the background, and his lips on your forehead  - im leaving it at that :))

⋆˚✿˖° nagi seishiro - playing roblox

- typical nagi.  - what roblox games you ask? dress to impress. - he likes playing simple games at night. and those simple games dont include dress to impress :)) - buuuut. he still plays it because the satisfaction he gets from beating 12 year olds outweigh the stress he gets from said 12 year olds - he loves to duo with you - literally caseoh just more nonchalant - he also likes to play those 2 player tycoons :DD

⋆˚✿˖° shoei barou - baking

- his love language is quality time  - and what’s more quality than baking time >:D - hes not someone for consuming sugar at ass o’clock. but he’ll tolerate it bc it makes you happy :DD  - he has those #probakingskillz bc he used to bake TONS of stuff with and for his sisters (HE ALSO BAKES THEIR GIRL SCOUT COOKIES GRAHHHHHHHH) - you also make him wear those silly pink frilly aprons (you have matching aprons but instead of yours being pink and frilly its literally the opposite) 

© sheyfu on tumblr

[gay-dorito-dust]

HEYYYY

Soo I'm here to rq another Damian x reader(platonic). But real quick, I'm sorry if I'm requesting too much or being a nuisance. Pls lmk if I am so I can stop! It's just hard to find somebody that writes for him like dis.

Anyways, basically the same thing were theyre friends but this time it's a diff scenario. So Damian n reader are obvi friends but theyre also complete oposites. Like Damian is intelegent, focused and meanwhile has reader is a bit dumber, daydreams too much, and kinder. They also get walked over a lot.

So he invites reader over to the manor and she meets his brothers n dad. It's all fine n dandy but they can't help but notice how diff they are.

Bonus points if reader talks positively abt him to his brothers and they're all like "fym he's nice?" And readers all like "fym he isnt?" (They're just not used to being treated like a normal human being) ‼️

Honestly I love writing for platonic! Damian. So pls don’t apologise for anything bc I’m having so much fun rn. 🦦plus I don’t know if this will read well as I’ve written this late at night when o should probably be in bed.

‘Am I seeing things or has Damian finally made a friend.’ Dick whispered to Jason, his eyes unable to tear his eyes away from you and Damian followed Bruce through the manor.

‘Nope, I’m definitely seeing it too.’ Jason replied also looking at you and Damian as if he was looking at the human personifications of night and day.

‘The fact that the demon spawn managed to get a friend sure is…something.’ Tim piped up, having overheard his brothers conversation from standing in between them. ‘I can only hope he didn’t kidnap the poor soul.’ Dick added as he was quick to click onto how Damian kept a hand on your arm, tugging and pulling you along when you stop to stare at a painting in awe for a little too long, gently encouraging you to keep up with him and Bruce by promising to go back to the painting later. Jason then looked over at Tim, ‘any ideas on who they are?’ Tim shrugged. ‘Only the fact that they go to the same school as Damian, share the same art classes and is known for being a little bit of a daydreaming pushover, but despite all that they’re still a kind person.’

Dick smiled sympathetically as his heart ached for you. It wasn’t easy being nice in a city like Gotham, if anything nice ever wandered into the accursed city it seemed as though Gotham itself would stop at nothing to see it destroyed, decimated and become as miserable and as bleak as the city itself; So it was rare to find someone who genuinely could still bring it in themselves to smile whilst in a city like this. And for that Dick had to give you props for being brave enough -and strong enough- to be kind in a place that would gladly take pleasure in stepping over and on you at any inconvenience. For it was truly a sign of bravery at its finest.

‘That kid is sure brave.’ Jason signed, knowing that people like you don’t last in Gotham but it was people like you that Gotham needed the most, but how could a retched place like Gotham heal when it’s always been a rotten city since it’s very conception? He didn’t believe it could be possible but there were always solutions to fighting the problem that seemed impossible to overcome. So who cares if you weren’t the brightest bulb at school? The education system in Gotham was shit anyway the last time he checked and he doubted much had changed when he…well you know…

Tim was silent. He was too busy recognising the protective measures that Damian was taking specifically for you; mainly the hand tugging at your arm anytime he thought you were getting distracted or wandering off elsewhere and muttering about how you need to keep or you’ll get left behind, despite the fact that even if you did Damian would allow himself to fall behind just so that he could walk besides you. While he might be part of the majority that didn’t think he’s ever see the day that Damian brought a friend home, never less a friend who was the total opposite of him. He couldn’t help but feel a sort of relief that Damian finally found a friend, and he knew that both Jason and Dick felt similarly from the looks upon their faces, silently observing how you interact with one another.

The one thing that Tim was confident in was the fact that Damian needed you as much as you needed Damian because you were a beacon of opportunity for his younger brother in many ways that Tim was certain you weren’t made aware of just yet. So while he and his brothers may tease and take this piss about how different you were from Damian, they mean well and express their happiness the only way they knew best; teasing and taking the piss.

‘This library is beautiful Mr Wayne! Do you have any fantasy books?’ You could be heard asking down the hallway, followed by the sound of Bruce softly laughing as he showed you the grand library. ‘This library has any book you can think of and please call me Bruce, it’s not often that Damian brings anyone home for the weekend.’ He says as you looked the Damian confused and a little betrayed. ‘You’ve got friends other than me?’

Damian groaned. ‘No. I don’t, you’re the only friend I’m willing myself to have.’

You smiled and gripped his hand. ‘Aww Dami! That’s so sweet of you to say, despite how brash and blunt you may come across, I’m glad to say that you’re the only friend I’m willing to have too!’ You said without shame. ‘Everyone else isn’t a nice as you are.’ You trailed off while a rare solemn look appeared upon your face as Damian was quick to squeeze your hand reassuringly, Bruce smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m not smart like your son mr Wayne, I can’t help it if things don’t come to me as easy as they do others but I try! I try really heard to do my best at every test but…but people tend to laugh of me because to them I’m either slow or thick.’ Damian’s jaw clenched and his brows furrowed upon being remembered of what people tended to call you.

He hated it and whenever he saw it happen, he was quick to utter some threatening words before taking his usual position as your pseudo-bodyguard for the rest of the school day. At first he wasn’t bothered but when you became restless in your pursuit of being his friend, he remembered vividly how people were mocking and making fun of you for trying to be his friend, that he often regrets not accepting your friendship sooner if it meant being able to be there when it counts.

‘When will you get it that Damian doesn’t want to be friends with someone like you.’ One person said.

‘Then I’ll just have to keep trying.’ You rebutted, still smiling somehow.

Another person scoffs. ‘Get fucking real. You’re a weirdo, no one wants to be friends with a weirdo who so fucking slow at everything.’

You merely shrugged, even when someone’s insulting you, your brain doesn’t recognises it as such. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind.’

‘God you’re so fucking useless that I’m surprised that anyone bothers with you. Let me say this in a way you won’t have to try so hard to understand dipshit. Damian. Will. Never. Be. Friends. With. Someone. Like. You. Ever.’ A third slowly spoke and Damian had heard enough and within a blink of an eye had laid them out flat. You blinked before looking at Damian with a bright smile. ‘Hi Damian! Did you hurt these guys, that’s not very nice.’

‘They insulted you and yet you defend their honour.’ Damian asked incredulously as you both walked down the hallway, leaving the three bullies to groan from their injuries. You shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘They were insulting you.’ Damian reiterated. ‘They insulted your intelligence and your abilities. People like them often hide bigger insecurities than others.’ Damian replied, finding your ability to keep smiling after such things both annoying as it was admirable.

‘Are we friends now?’ You asked innocently enough and Damian knew he had sealed his fate, and so he sighs and looks up to the ceiling. ‘Yes, we’re…friends.’ He mutters and doesn’t do anything to stop you from dragging him to art class.

‘I was alone before Damian.’ You admitted as you looked at Bruce with a smile as you squeezed Damian’s hand in kind. ‘But now he’s here and he’s my bestest friend ever!’ Damian honestly wishes that you respect yourself more because you could claim that he saved you multiple times, but you’d never acknowledge the times where you have saved him by being unequivocally kind, sweet and over all a better person then all of Gotham’s civilians combined. ‘I was finding my first week at school horrid before I befriended l/n.’ Damian admitted as you softly cooed. The boy then swallows thickly. ‘Their friendship is much appreciated.’

‘Aww! Dami!’ You cried as you crashed into him, causing you both to hit the floor in a heap of limbs.

While Damian was cursing mom lethal threats and you were laughing, Bruce had already made his mind up about you and was certain to make sure to have Damian invite you over as much as possible. It was obvious for him to see that you and Damian were good for each other despite your vast and glaring differences, however that’s what worked in your favour, the power to have over come all odds was incredible; not to mention the fact that your friendship with Damian had lasted as long as it has was another impressive feet on top of that. Bruce knows it’s been hard for Damian to fit in and find a friend, but he couldn’t have made a better friend than he did in the likes of you.

You were more than defiantly welcomed back to the manor if Bruce had anything to say about it.

‘Get off of me!’ Damian shouts.

‘Damian, I think my foot is stuck with yours.’ You reply, scared.

‘That’s your own foot- how did you manage to tangle yourself up in yourself? You landed onto of me?’ Damian asked incredulously.

‘Sorry.’ You apologised.

‘Don’t be.’ Damian said.

Bruce smiled one last time before leaving you both alone in the library to untangle yourselves, only to be greeted by Tim, Dick and Jason. ‘Can I help you three?’ Bruce raised an eyebrow at the boys.

‘Nope.’ Dick started.

‘Not really, just…seeing how the little scamps are dealing.’ Jason followed after.

‘Damian? Nice? The same Damian who tried to, oh I don’t know…KILL ME?!’ Tim asked, revealing to Bruce all he needed to know, their breathing behind the library door was telling that they were clearly eavesdropping on the three of you. Jason and Dick looked at him displeased as Tim looked back at them. ‘I’m not the only one of us who thought that.’ He defended himself. ‘I mean it’s nice that he’s looking out for y/n but still that’s not something someone casually forgets.’

Bruce merely leaves Tim, Dick and Jason to their own quarrel, he loves his boys he truly does, but sometimes they’re more trouble than what they’re worth. He can only hope that they don’t scare you off from coming back for good because he was already planning your next visit.

[m0chis-cafe]

how i think ignihyde members would kiss you.. ⋆⑅˚₊

word count; 1.2k

warnings; nothing (orthos is a bit short just cause its platonic)

characters: Idia and Ortho (/p, kind of a continuation off of idas part)

Idia Shroud🎧

-this poor man..

-he does skin care dont get me wrong, hes not crusty by means, his lips are always dry though

-when he meets you he tries to take better care of himself to impress you (its so cute)

-didnt even connect the dots when you started going to classes and suddenly a new person started playing games with him, someone that never used their voice chat

-is stil so nervous to be around you in public even after you guys start dating so PDA is absoultly out of the question, hes not even actually in classes 99% of the time..

-after your courses are over you always end up in the ignihyde dorms on his bed telling him about your classes while playing games on his switch, while he plays games on his pc

-it takes a very long time for him to be able to kiss you, just anywhere

-lost his mind when you first kissed his cheek after the first couple dates (the dates where in his room and around ignihyde)

-his hair flared and it scared the shit out of you.. thought you actually killed him..

-when he does get more comfortable its a lot of forehead kisses or you shoulder

-when he does initiate kisses theyre very quick and he gets embarrassed so quickly (your just too damn pretty)

-he also fiddles with your hands a lot when he is talking, hes not used to talking so much to someone

-hell occasionally kiss your hands as well when hes talking, or if your talking he will to just do something so he stays focused (ADHD final boss..)

-you guys play games together a lot so thats just easiest to not completely distract the other from the game but still be affectionate

-if you guys are in public they just assume yall are dating, no woman is aloud that close to him that isnt his mother or hed be running

-still gets so nervous any time you kiss him

-making out is almost out of the question, the one time you did.. he almost lit fire to his dorm room..

-best friends with ortho of course, you both try to drag him out of his room as much as possible

-in short your the only person he allows himself to be himself around, besides ortho, your so damn important to him

you walked into idnihyde dorm after your classes had finished, walking down the hall as you saw ortho talking to other dorm members, "ortho! hey.. do you know where idia is?'

"oh hello! hes in his room, as always" he chirped and smiled before turning his direction back towards to what youd assume was lost and confused freshman

you nodded and headed off to his room, knocking before there was a lack of response and you walked in. you rolled your eyes as you looked at idia sat at his desk, curled into his chair playing a new game hed gotten that just came out. a favorite creator of his had just dropped a new game and you both were so excited to play it, "starting without me shroud?"

he squeaked and jumped in his seat as he heard your voice, head whipping towards you "oh- well- you know i just got excited.. a-and you were on your way anyways" he nervously rambled looking into his lap, he looked up and smiled sighing "h-how was your day?"

"nice rebound.." you mumbled, closing his door behind you as you threw your school game at the edge of his bed. walking to stand behind his chair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and slumping into his neck, "eh its alright.. i dont mind. how is it so far?"

he smiled quickly and went on a 15min rant about the beginning of the game, the graphics, visuals, weapons, co-op ability, and so forth. you just smiled and placed a small kiss to his neck, unwrapping yourself from him to grab your own chair that you kept in his room so you could sit by him. he continued his rant, you placing small comments here and there, and he held your hand as he did. running his hand over your knuckles and tracing shapes on your palm.

you let him speak, lifting his hands to place a kiss on his knuckles, "sounds very interesting so far, you ready to keep playing?". he just nodded pulling up the game on his monitor again, pausing before he tuned and quickly pecked your lips. blushing he turned back to his monitor and started playing to distract himself, "..thank you for being here my love" he mumbled.

Ortho Shroud🔥

-were not being weird with minor chat, this is set in an area of you being with idia and the three of you just have a very close bond and ortho sees you as his family

-hes very excited when your in ignihyde

-hes also glad he now has someone else with him getting idia out of the dorm more so, he used to be upset his brother had no friends but when you came along he was so glad that he got out more. not entering club level social, but going to dorm leader meetings actually, some classes in person, et

-he loves to play games with you as well, any new game out, ortho wants to play with you or watch you play it (he has the best cheat codes for any game)

-no kissing here, but if it was itd be like a small chee kiss of just appreciation like itd be from a sibling

-he does hug you a lot though, especially when it means more progress for idia

-he was the main person pushing idia to be more social when he realized his brother had a crush

-overall is literally a little brother to you as well, and its so sweet

-other ignihyde dorm members comes to you and ortho for anything, theyre still afraid of idia

it was a day before a large break and most of the students were leaving campus, not the ignihyde brother though.. theyre parets were so busy there was no point in going back home for holidays. they could do what they were going to do here instead of bothering to travel.

what they didnt relize was that because you werent of this world, you also had no family to go home to.. which landed you all in the situation of hanging out in idias dorm as he played on his pc set up, you and ortho sat on his bed as you played on idias switch.

a new game has just come out and ortho was helping you get almost every single hack and cheat in the game, it was great. ortho gave you a big hug as you got something for him in the game, as you two both nerded out about a little farming game idia turned a bit and smiled at his brother and partner having such a good bond, it made him glad.

[struwberrii]

haikyuu!! at an american high school ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

here are my silly headcanons on how i think the karasuno first years would act if they were american high school students teehee

pt.2 pt.3

ヽ(^◇^*)/

hinata

probably runs to lunch

one of those dorky try hards in gym

wears matching neon nike shorts and tops

literally cries if he ever gets in trouble in class

water bottle flips randomly (he never lands it)

his mom drops him off at school every morning

jumps to touch the top of every doorframe

everyone judges him and thinks hes weird but hes gen the sweetest guy if you ever talk to him

he has a phone he just cant bring it to school guys

offers to do stuff first when the teacher asks (like brings attendance to the office or asks other teachers for dry erase markers)

middle school humor (hes kinda funny sometimes tho lol)

kageyama

lets you copy his homework because he knows its all wrong (or gives you wrong answers on purpose)

wears hoodies everyday even during summer

scared to put lip balm on in public because someone once asked if he was gay because of how he applied it

friends with hinata but is kind of embarrassed of him

girls actually like him but dont talk to him because hes so quiet

probably talks to girls from different schools

plays roblox with the others when they have breaks during practice (he hasnt updated his avatar since 2016)

still reads strictly picture books

also a try hard in gym

still does streaks on snapchat

tsukishima

refuses to acknowledge hinata and kageyama outside of volleyball club (he thinks theyre embarrassing)

constantly gets in trouble for having airbuds in or being on his phone

tries putting girls onto his niche music taste then its just cigarettes after sex

if you arent one of his friends or a pretty person hes probably gonna be rlly mean to you im sorry

has hot topic pins on his bag (yamaguchi forces him to shop there with him and tsuki always ends up walking out with a new pin)

dresses very basic but still nice

bros a bully

tries to correct teachers and make the teacher look dumb

if he can tell he actually hurt your feelings he'll say it was just a joke and gaslight you

him and yamaguchi just talk shit all lunch and study period

walks to like mcdonalds for lunch sometimes

yamaguchi

bully on the DL

the only reason people know hes mean is because tsuki is his best friend

always has fruit for lunch

probably in band and plays literally the biggest instrument in the world

he always smells weirdly minty

has the silliest stickers on everything, his notebooks, laptop, headphones

bought sonny angels for him and tsuki

everyone thinks hes gay

him and yachi are art class buddies

brings his switch to school sometimes

rides his bike to school

lowkey stuck in his 2020 indie phase

yachi

has the cutest stationary

takes all her notes on her ipad and has that paper texture screen protector

ali express warrior

shes the sweetest girl in school

probably a closeted lebanese

already has her drivers permit (probably gonna be the first person in her grade with a license)

packs her own lunches everyday in bento boxes

has a private instagram account with like 20 followers and declines everyone she doesnt know personally

always has lotion, gum, perfume, medicine, chargers, everything. she is not taking any chaces

shes like if the 2019 soft girl pinterest aethetic became a person

reminds teachers about the homework

secretly watches youtube during class

she does NOT play about her art projects

her and yamaguchi trade stickers

probably still uses that 2019 kanken vsco bookbag

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

sorry guys half of this list is just me being an extreme hater and projecting

[all4yoi]

𝒮ins 𝑜f 𝒯he ℳanor ۰ sjy

𝑔ardener!jake x 𝓁ady!reader ⚹ cw. set in 1880s, angst??, fluff, mentions of arrange marriage, love at first sight??, jake is down bad, sunghoon punches jay lol, heeseung mentioned grahh, theyre just rlly inlove idk, toxic family kinda, not proofread

sypnosis: Y/N L/N, a lively aristocrat, finds herself in love with Sim Jaeyun, the estate gardener. Their secret romance defies societal expectations, jeopardizing both their reputations and family honor as they navigate the treacherous waters and the consequences of cross-class affection.

or in short, wherein Sim Jaeyun finds himself longing for the infamous nobleman's daughter the longer he works for their estate.

notes, word count is like 5.7k haha, i wrote this for 3 nights, anyway i rlly loved writing this! if you like it to, please reblog~

The day you were welcomed to the world, your mother has always told you how your grandmother washed your face with water that had rose petals in the basin with it. She had said that doing so will grant the baby beauty.

You weren't sure if that moment had any connection on your adoration to roses now that you've grown to a fine young lady. Usually, a smile would be adorned on your face whilst you stood admiring the roses in one corner of the huge garden you and your grandmother had built over the years, if it weren't for the fact that the roses were wilting now.

Their usual bold red color has gone darker and its petals drier. You could revive them, obviously, but you didn't know how. Your grandmother died three days ago and throughout your life, she had taught you everything you needed to know in gardening.

Now it looks like she forgot to teach you one thing. She was always quite forgetful.

Two warm hands placed themselves on your shoulders.

"Do not fret, my darling. Your father has already secured the assistance of someone who will restore your roses to their former beauty." came the voice of your mother as she squeezed your shoulders reassuringly.

You stood unresponsive before turning to look at her.

"Thank you, mama."

"He shall arrive by noon tomorrow. Let us return to the manor; it is growing rather dark."

With that, you turned your back on the wilting roses and walked away. Atleast, by tomorrow, one of the two things you loved and lost will be brought back. Hopefully.

-

"You got a job with the L/N's? That's huge! What will you be doing there?" Sunghoon, a friend of Jake's questioned eagerly.

Jake patted his trousers, removing unwanted dust that had clung on to him whilst he prepared everything he needed.

"Well, just some gardening, of course. That's what I was told. That's what I do for a living." he answered briefly before putting his sling bag over his shoulder.

Sunghoon scrunched up his nose, "That sounds a bit dull, even though I've expected it, but good luck! I'll see you around!" he says as he pushes his friend by the shoulders and jogging away from him.

Jake huffed and began his journey to the L/N Manor.

The walk was rather peaceful, greeting acquaintances he meets along the way and helping some when he notices they need one.

Looking up the sky, Jake came to an abrupt stop before coming up in a sprint.

He said he was to arrive at noon, and noon was approaching much sooner than he planned. He supposes it was because of the constant helping hand he had lent towards the people he came across with.

He should really stop doing those at the wrong time.

-

"You are tardy, young man. You should consider yourself fortunate that only Lady Y/N is waiting. The Earl and Countess are presently engaged in their duties elsewhere." An elderly housemaid nags, tutting disapprovingly at the sweating young man infront of her.

"I'm terribly sorry, really am." Jake spoked in between pants, he saw the housemaid's glare soften before he was urged inside as the elderly woman led him towards the back of the manor.

Jake could only gape at the size of the house, oh what he would do to live in a house like this.

His mouth only widened at the sight of a large garden where he was now walking into, the elderly woman still leading him somewhere secluded.

He spun around but continued to walk, admiring the scenery infront of him. There were various of colorful flowers like tulips, pansies, marigolds, lilies.. everything. He could spot a greenhouse in one corner, a pond in another, a fountain in the middle, and a maiden standing over a bush of.. wilting roses.

Guess he found his job.

"Lady Y/N, the gardener has arrived. Should you require any assistance, please do not hesitate to summon me."

And with that, Jake was left alone with the Earl's only child and daughter.

"Pray excuse my tardiness, m'lady. I was detained by.. an unforeseen matter." he spoke softly.

Turning around, you were met with big brown eyes staring right back at you. If you had noticed the way they widened, you didn't mention it.

Eyeing him up and down, you studied his appearance. He was dressed in beige trousers and a white linen shirt with its sleeves folded up until his elbows, he wore a brown sling bag and a small black beret sat on top of his rather long black hair.

Father would've nagged him for that.

"M'lady?" his voice was rather attractive, you noted. It suited his face.

"Pardon me, I was under the impression that you would be somewhat older." you sent a small smile as he scratched his nape.

"Ah well-"

"Please don't misunderstand me! I am delighted to be speaking with someone of my own age... You are of similar age to myself, aren't you?"

Jake broke into a wide smile, biting his lower lip as he chuckled. The heavy load on his shoulders seemed to have been lifted. You weren't like those.. pardon him for saying, brats, that he had worked with from the past.

So far in his life, Jake has encountered two noble families (your family being the third), considered that he was the grandson of the greatest gardener in town.

The Baron's twin daughters spoke in this shrilly voice as they constantly nagged him for cutting the stems of their flowers when he had only wanted the plant to absorb more water properly. He had been sacked the same day.

Meanwhile the Viscount's daughter only flirted with him any chance she got and when he had rejected her politely and respectfully (he didn't want to lose his job and ruin someone's reputation, also because he wasn't intrested), she bawled and at the end, he was fired and was forever banned from their manor. Not like he's planning on coming back anyway.

So seeing you with pure kindness and innocence written all over you, gave him a bit of hope that you'd be better than the previous daughters he had dealt with.

"Yes, I am, m'lady. I am Sim Jaeyun. Please, do call me Jake." he bowed his head lightly before stepping forward, now standing side by side with the pretty maiden. He eyed the roses, some were dying, some were already dead.

"My grandmother passed away four days ago; though you may already be aware of this. She and I planted these roses together, but since her funeral, they have begun to wilt. I am at a loss as to how to restore their former beauty." you spoke softly, brows furrowing as you crouched down and caressed one rose that was still of color and beauty.

Looking up at the attractive boy, you sent him a genuine smile.

"I do hope you can assist me, Sim Jaeyun."

"Do not worry, my lady; it would be the last thing I'd do."

-

The next day, despite the usual bright sky being covered with dark rain clouds, Jake had a small smile on his face as he began his journey to the manor he'd be working in for the next following months.

Not only was he going to take care of the roses, but he was also offered the job of maintaining the garden's beauty, regardless of its heavy responsibility he did not think twice in accepting the offer, maybe it was the pay that made him accept or maybe it was the simple love he had for what he does.

Upon arriving at the manor, he was immediately led towards the garden by a different maid this time.

Jake skipped over towards the rose bushes and began to do his work. He had noticed that you were nowhere to be found, he had atleast expected to see you hanging around in the garden.

An hour has passed and he was now tending on the marigolds, admiring its beauty and sprinkling it with some water.

He felt a drop of water on his eyebrow, then another on his nose. It was starting to rain.

Jake didn't know why his first thought was to run to the greenhouse when he was much more closer to the manor's backdoor. He followed his gut, and now here he was, stuck in the greenhouse as the rain echoed inside.

"Mr. Sim?"

Turning around abruptly, he was met with your wide eyes staring back at him.

You were wearing a custom made dress in a shade of light blue, it fell down until your shoes weren't visible. Your hands were covered in dirt as you stood infront of the tomatoes.

"Lady Y/N! How delightful to see you!" he greeted with a smile before it fell as realization dawned to him.

He walked closer to you, his eyes scanning your form. Now that he was closer, he could see some stains of dirt littered on your neck down to your clothed torso.

"May I ask what brings you here?" he questioned, looking at the tomatoes on a basket before averting his gaze back to you.

"I was simply attending to the tomatoes. This is how I pass the time, as there is little to occupy me within the estate." your soft voice could kill millions, he thinks to himself. He takes a handkerchief from his trousers and held out his hand.

"Do you mind if I..?" you stared at his hand and shook your head, bringing your softer hands against his.

He began wiping away the dirt, trying his hardest not to look up and stare at your face. Jake knew that you were fairly beautiful, but he was already crossing the line of holding your hand and tending to you.

For goodness sake, you have your own personal maid who's job is to do this!

"I did not anticipate the rain today; I came here straight away upon finishing my breakfast." you had explained, looking up at the clear ceiling of the structure and watching the rain drops fall.

Jake dropped your now clean hands gently before walking towards his discarded bag on the ground. "Here, I have a coat in my bag. You may drape it over your head and return to the warmth of the estate. It will be far more comfortable there than it is out here."

"And what of yourself? You're not intending to remain out here, are you?" Jake gaped at you, his mouth opening and closing as he swallowed down the lump in his throat.

Having no response from the young man, you added, "I shall remain here with you until the rain lessens somewhat."

"But-"

"I insist."

So with that, the two of you stayed together sharing stories of your own experiences, sharing laughter, and slowly building a bond.

As the rain slowly calmed down, Jake had thrown his jacket over your head and led you out the greenhouse. His arms were still holding on to the jacket to keep it from slipping off whilst your head was practically shoved in his chest.

The sounds of your laughter were silenced with the pitter patter of the rain as you two ran back to the manor.

"Lady Y/N! I was searching for you—oh dear! We must get you cleaned up before your mother arrives and sees you in such a state. Come along, quickly!" your personal maid whines as she nearly rips you away from the gardener's arm, not sparing him a glance as she took the jacket off your head and on to the floor.

You spared him a glance over the shoulder of your maid, smiling and mouthing 'thank you.' Jake was quite sure that you've brought his heart with you as you walked away from him.

That day, you learned that Jake had a deep connection to nature and craftsmanship. He was undeniably refreshing compared to the suitors your mother would force you to spend time with. He was authentic, extremely kind, and he longed for a life defined by passion and purpose rather than societal expectations. Just like you did.

-

For the past few days, Jake had been visiting the manor to tend on the roses and everything else. Everytime he did, you'd be sitting somewhere far yet near enough to see what he's doing. He would never admit it, but everytime he woke up in the morning, all he'd ever think about is seeing you.

If you weren't in the greenhouse, you'd sometimes be under a tree and have a book with you, maybe a tea, or your white feline friend, and sometimes it was just you and your pretty face.

Occasionally you'd even approach him and crouch down beside him, just watching the way his hands work on your precious roses. Maybe even share hidden caresses of each others hands as you two worked together on some days.

Today was one of those days.

"Do you see what I have done?" Jake spoke, gesturing over the basket filled with dead roses and leaves. "I have removed the roses that were wilting, dying, and drying. These were afflicted with diseases that might spread and endanger the remaining roses."

"I have also removed some of the weeds growing around the bush, as they might be competing for the nutrients that should be going to the roses themselves."

He only received an understanding nod and a small smile in return. During these moments, he had to hide the shake in his hands, not because of fear. He was overwhelmed, you were too pretty to be true.

Pausing in his words, he stared at your face. Memorizing each feature.

Then suddenly, he found his fingers tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. You merely stared back at him, letting him caress you.

He was developing a crush on someone he knows he shouldn't. He'd be banished not only of this job, but possibly his house too. He knows it's impossible for an Earl to do that, but he'd be able to financially ruin him and his grandfather that would cause them to leave their warm abode.

As much as he wanted to pursue you, he could not, and he (somewhat) already accepts that. So, he'd stand firm and do the job he's told to do.

"It appears that you two are finding much pleasure in each other's company."

You immediately stood up and dusted your dress to get rid of the dirt that had clung to it.

"Mama.. I was only-"

"Inside the manor, Y/N, we have guests coming, and your father is seeking your presence." she cooly said, her cold eyes staring straight at the gardener who was now also standing.

The girl simply nodded, sparing a quick glance at Jake before walking back to the manor.

"Your ladyship." Jake bowed his head before meeting the eyes of the tall woman.

"I trust you have not forgotten your duties. You are to attend solely to the flowers; becoming familiar with my daughter is not part of what my husband has entrusted you with, am I correct?" she raised an intimidating brow at him.

"You are absolutely correct, my lady. I assure you it will not happen again."

"I hope so, especially now that she is to be wed to the Duke's son. You are dismissed for today. Good day." and before he could even answer, the tall woman turned her back on him and walked away.

Jake felt his world come crashing down.

As he picked up his gardening tools he couldn't stop the tightening in his chest, he knew he had no right to feel this way. He was a gardener, you were an Earl's daughter.

You'd be better off with the son of a Duke. You won't gain anything from marrying a gardener, someone who cuts plants for a living and lives off of minimum wage.

Closing his eyes briefly, he exhaled and slapped himself in the chest in an attempt to get rid of its tightness.

As he said, he'd stand firm and do the job he's told to do.

And that is to tend to the roses, and not become familiar with the only daughter of the L/N's.

-

"What has you feeling so low?"

"God! I didn't expect to see you awake gramps." the sudden voice of his grandfather surprised him so much that he had accidentally slammed the door of their home so loud.

"And I'm not feeling low, merely fatigued, that's all." he added and dropped his bag on a stool before taking a bread from their kitchen.

His grandfather squinted his eyes at him before clearing his throat, he opened his newspaper before reading out loud.

"Lee Heeseung, son of the Duke, is reported to be betrothed to Y/N L/N, daughter of the Earl."

"Gramps, you should go to bed. You need to rest; why are you out here?"

His grandfather merely tutts, shaking his head and sighing. "Don't tell me you have become enamored with the daughter of an Earl?" his strained voice grumbled out.

Jake clicks his tongue and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I have not. What made you come up with that conclusion?" he asks, now looking at his grandfather.

"Don't look at me like that." he muttered.

"Like what, son?"

"Like you understand how I feel, as though you pity me." he replied, his eyes turning glassy.

His grandfather sighed, taking a sip of his coffee and gasping loudly after. "I would prefer not to have my grandson's head presented to me by the Earl one random morning. You ought to know better, Jaeyun."

Jake huffed in annoyance, chewing aggressively on his bread.

"I cannot help it! And it is not as though I could do anything about it. She is.. after all, to be wed soon." he spoke with his mouth full of bread.

"To a duke's son too.." he silently added before walking away and to his room.

The old man sighs, taking an old photograph he always kept on his chest pocket. He stared longingly at the girl in the picture who was smiling widely, a rose tucked on her ear.

Jake covered himself in his thin blanket, staring at the ceiling. There was no denying that he held affection towards you. You, who was a free spirit that was a stark contrast to the rigid expectations of the society and constraints he had experienced throughout his life. He had never met anyone like you—curious, admiration towards anything, and your willingness to engage with him and his work.

You made him feel seen and valued, something he rarely feels in the society you both lived in. You didn't care about money, you weren't disgusted by him when he touched you, you didn't push him away.

He loved you dearly, yet it was nearly impossible to have you as his.

-

"Papa, I do not wish to marry just yet, I beg you!" you exclaimed as soon as the Duke and his son has left your estate.

Your father merely glared at you over his shoulder before completely facing you. "You will marry! You should be grateful that they insisted on coming here rather than us having to go their estate!"

"But—why? You and Mama promised you would grant me a few more years after my 18th before arranging my marriage!" you argued, nearly in tears.

From behind you, your mother's nose flared in rage.

"Do not think we are unaware of your growing relationship with the gardener! My God, what would people say?" you turned to her, your eyes wide in shock.

"Wha-"

"Everyone in this estate has been observing you both and has not failed to tell us when something prosperous happens between you both. You are marrying the Duke's son, and that is final." your father walks away, leaving you with tear stained eyes as you hear your mother's heels click as she too, walks away.

Ever since that day, Lee Heeseung has begun to make his presence known at L/N Manor by visiting frequently.

Jake still had to work, your mother insisted that he shouldn't be sacked for her own reasons. Although, Jake already knew that she only wanted to rub the reality that he wouldn't be picked over a Duke's son in his face.

Everyday he came over to do his duties on the garden, you'd still be there, but this time with a tall handsome man beside you with your arms linked with him.

You'd still be sat under the tree, but there would be a man beside you with his arm around your waist. He'd still see you in the greenhouse, but instead of gushing over the fruits you've planted recently to him, it would be towards Lee Heeseung now.

Despite all of that, he continued his work until the roses he was tending to were now healthy and beautiful again. His work was now done, he had no more reason to keep coming back on the estate's garden.

Today was his last day. Although the Earl disliked him a lot now, he was paid such high amount for his last paycheck.

Maybe this was their way on telling him to move on and never show his face to them again.

As he was bidding his farewell to the beautiful garden, he was startled by a voice calling out his name. The voice so soft and familiar, his heart beat increased immediately at the sound.

"My lady.. If they were to see me- if they were to witness you conversing with me.." he looked over your shoulder as he stuttered, his heart beating too fast for it to be healthy.

"Come along with me."

"But-"

"I order you." Jake's eyes widened before he nodded.

He followed you, looking over his shoulder in nervousness. He was glad to talk to you and be in your presence once more without the Duke's son beside you, despite the risk of being seen with you- he'd gladly take any consequences (not really) just so he could see you for maybe the last time ever.

You led him inside the greenhouse and when the door closed, you turned to face him. Your former stern face was now worried and in sorrow.

"In three days' time, they are to host my engagement ball with Lord Heeseung." Jake furrowed his brows, he didn't want to know any of this. He had hoped you ordered him to come with you to bid your farewell or throw him a hug.

"My lady, you are aware that it would be most unsuitable for you to extend an invitation to me." he whispered as if someone other than you would hear.

"I am aware, let me talk." he shut his mouth real quick.

"I have little affection for this marriage; I intend to escape on the day of my engagement party." Jake wanted to jump in the air and scream in joy when the words processed in his mind.

He held back and tilted his head, looking to his side. "I understand, my lady, but surely you recognize that it is impossible? With everyone in attendance at the party, there is no way..."

Your frustrated sigh made cut him off. He gulped, he could already see where this is leading, and he doesn't know whether he's up to it or not.

"That is where you come in," you say, stepping closer. "I beg for your help. I am sure.. you would like to, would you not?" his face softened as he felt the warmth of your hand upon his cheek.

He inhaled sharply, his hand coming on top of yours as he too stepped closer. "I do, trust me. However, do not expect success from me."

The nod you responded with filled him with warmth all over, and with his heart controlling him, he pressed his lips to yours. Your lips was what he expected it to feel, soft and warm against him as you both moved in sync. It was full of passion, love, and comfort.

Pulling away, he rested his forehead against yours, his hands now on your waist.

"In three days time." he whispered.

"I shall wait for you." and just like he did a while ago, you pressed your lips against his once again.

-

Sunghoon stared at his friend as if he had grew two more heads. He was crouched down on the ground with Samuel (their small pig) who was drinking his water on a steel bowl beside him.

Meanwhile, Jongseong rested his dirty hands on his hips, looking at Jake with an amused expression.

"Allow me to reiterate your words," Jongseong said with amusement. "You wish for us to assist you in arranging Lady Y/N's escape in two days' time? How amusing." He scoffed and laughed.

Jake groaned, kicking the grass on his feet. "Do not jest! I am incredibly serious." he furrowed his brows.

"You can not be serious. And then what? She escapes and we face imprisonment? Are you listening to yourself, Jaeyun?" Sunghoon finally spoke, standing up from his position.

“I assure you, I am quite earnest in this matter,” Jake said with a gentle, resolute tone, his voice betraying his weariness at trying to persuade his friends. “I am relocating at her behest, and I would go to any lengths for her.”

He paused, casting a resigned glance at his friends. "Yesterday, we shared a kiss. Is that not sufficient evidence of my intent? Must I then demonstrate my affection before you in a more explicit manner?”

The three of them fell into a moment of silence. Sunghoon, visibly distressed, ran his fingers through his hair, while Jongseong, deep in thought, chewed his lip in quiet deliberation.

Sunghoon scratched his head aggressively before speaking. “Doesn’t your grandfather have a secluded cabin tucked away somewhere? You could take her there—no one would be able to find you.”

Jake looked up, his eyes lightening up before shaking his head.

“Yes, he does, but getting there requires a thirty-minute boat ride. Unfortunately, we no longer have a boat, which is why gramps no longer insists we live there.” he responded, obviously crestfallen.

Sunghoon looked down, muttering a small 'oh.'

Jongseong looked at both his companions, inhaling and looked at Jake straight in the eye. “Actually.. my late father had a boat. Mother no longer values it, so you could make use of it.”

Jake smiled widely, thanking both of his friends. Now all he had to do was tell his grandfather.. and make sure your escape would be successful.

To say that he was nervous was an understatement, he knew that the moment he utters the words "help" and "escape" his grandfather would deny immediately.

So here he was, eating supper across his grandfather who looked like he was getting chased down by a bear with how fast he was devouring his food.

"Whacha staring at for kid? Eat." the old man grumbled, pointing at his untouched plate.

Jake cleared his throat, “Gramps, the cabin you have—would it still be livable?”

His grandfather looked up from his plate, raising a brow. "'Course it is, I expect so. Left that ruddy cabin clean before I had to move here to take care of 'ya." the younger merely nodded.

The old man leaned back on his chair, exhaling. "What are you planning on, Jaeyun?" he asked, squinting his eyes at him.

"Lady Y/N requires my assistance in.. escaping her engagement ball in two days' time." Jake whispered, playing with the soup infront of him. He shut his eyes, ready for a lecture when he heard the seat of his grandfather moan against the floorboard.

Jake sighed in defeat. Even though he would have Jongseong's father's boat, he would not have the key to the cabin. It's not like he could keep the lady cold outside or in a middle of a river.

Before he could stand up and retreat to his room to come up with a new plan, his grandfather dragged a chair beside his and sat down. The older man's wrinkle filled hands dropped a key and an old photograph on the table.

“I admire your bravery, son. Had I been less cowardly, I would have done exactly as you have in the past.” he looked at his grandfather, who merely gestured towards the photograph.

Jake's nimble fingers took the old and worn out paper, staring directly at a woman who had a rose tucked in her ear. She looked oddly like the woman who has his heart in her hand, he thinks.

"That is Adelaide L/N. Lady Y/N's late grandmother." his grandfather whispered longingly, smiling slightly at the sight.

“What we had… was something society would not view in a favorable light. Thus, I let her go, despite her pleas for me to take her far away so we could live the life we desired together.” His grandfather sighed deeply. “I was overwhelmed by fear of scandal, and it overshadowed my love for her.”

"Gramps.."

“So, I will not tell you to stop. But I will urge you to be cautious. I have told you once, and I tell you again: I do not wish to receive my grandson’s head on a platter,” the old man said sternly, then patted his grandson’s shoulder and gave him a firm side hug.

Smiling gratefully at his grandfather, he leaned on to his side as he looked at the photograph still before taking the key.

Now all he had to do was take you away.

-

The day has finally come and so far it was going pleasantly, for your parents atleast. Everyone in the ballroom was dressed beautifully, congratulating you and Heeseung for your engagement. They were all convinced that you both were inlove, which was far from the truth.

You had been at it for hours, greeting guests and dancing. You had started to lose hope, maybe Jake realized that what you asked for was incredibly stupid and risky.

Just as you had fully lost all your hope, a sudden shout from outside took everyone's attention. It continued until everyone was now crowding over the entrance of the venue.

You gulped, it was now or never.

"Excuse me." you had tried to pry Heeseung's arm away from you, but he held on to you tightly. With furrowed brows, he looked down on you. "Where are you going? It is dangerous to go wandering around alone."

"I truly only wish to retire to the powder room."

"If you insist. Please, be careful." you only nodded as he finally let you go. You practically rushed to the comfort room, gathering your dress in your hands so that you would not trip.

Yesterday, you received a letter from Jake. Explaining what he had planned for today. You could nearly recite the whole letter if someone would ask you to for the many times you've reread the letter.

Dear Y/N,

Everything is set. I will not disclose in this letter what I have planned entirely in case this letter falls on the wrong hands. On the day of your engagement ball, my friends will create a disturbance outside the venue to draw attention away from you so that you could flee without anyone's watchful eyes. I understand your concerns, but please know I did not coerce them into this; they insisted, saying it was something they had long wished to do. Should this distraction fail, simply excuse yourself to the powder room, but enter the men's; there is a large window there through which I will be waiting. Once you are out, we will escape together to a place where no one will find us.

I know it is not yet appropriate to express such sentiments, but I must tell you in advance. If all fails, remember that my love for you is unwavering, I would give up my life for you if I had to. I am deeply grateful for your trust.

Yours forever,

SJY

Entering the men’s powder room, you felt a sense of relief when you found it empty; any unwanted company would have made the situation quite awkward.

Just as he said in the letter, there was a huge window and through it, you could see Jake who's worried eyes widened at the sight of you. You rushed towards the pane of glass, unlocking it and sliding it up.

Jake helped you climb over the window, and once your feet touched the ground the door of the powder room burst open. There stood Lee Heeseung, his brows furrowed as he looked between you and Jake.

Grabbing Jake's hand, you made a run for it as you both ignored Heeseung scream for you to come back.

You both continued to run, repeatedly tripping and looking over your shoulders every few seconds. The grip you had on each other was tight, no intentions on letting go.

Finally, you reached a huge lake and a figure waved you both over. “It’s all set up. You two should hurry; Sunghoon just got escorted out. The fool actually punched me in the face,” said the taller man, gesturing towards the boat and indicating his eye, which was beginning to swell with a bruise.

Jake nodded, patting the unfamiliar man's shoulder before guiding you to sit on the boat. He boarded with you and pushed the boat away with a canoe. Before the boat could go far, Jake spoke.

“Thank you so much, Jongseong, really. Please tell Sunghoon that I owe him my life!” he shouted, which earned a stern glare from Jongseong.

He merely sent a thumbs up at his friend and a salute to you before running away to avoid getting you two caught.

Jake now faced you, a smile on his face.

“I scarcely believed you would truly follow through.” you whispered, bringing your knees closer to your chest. The boy across you chuckled, biting his lip, overwhelmed with nerves and joy.

“I told you, I would do anything for you. Even if its the last thing I’d ever do."

[ghostieyanyan]

Yandere! Kalim x reader, but yandere but they're bad at their jobs au. Like one minute Kalim act all sadistic and dark then the next thing when reader asked if he wants some pets he went to his usual happy sunshine puppy that demands pets

yes~~ presious baby boi just wants love but he so spoil x3

what i also like to think about with yandere kalim is that he knows right and wrong but its so water down for him that "he just cant help it ^^

For fun, im making this into a modern mafia au ^^

~Just trying to help~

Yan!Boss!Kalim x Worker!mc

Warnings: power dymanmic, mafia mention, violence mention, nsfw hints, death?, manipulation

~~~~~

The Asim, they are known for their wealth and their trades. They're a super big powerful family with a lot of people (both loyal and not loyal) under them. They kind of give "untouchable kings" vibes. Theyre still really nice to their "people", you just don't see them a lot, or at all really. The only way to really "talk to them" is by talking to someone in their circle but there are layers into that circle. some people thinks that their family is shady, like the rich people act is a persona to hide something but no one really has proof.

But you really don't have to worry about that. You have your own stuff to worry about, like living expenses. You were basically living on the streets, barely living. You did side jobs to get by. maybe you'll clean or maybe you'll babysit. when you were a kid, you always wanted to help people. But with your home life, money, you couldn't really get to your dreams even if you tried. you stopped school pretty early and its a little too late for you to get back into it. plus what school will accept you. you lived in a community where rich gets richer and medium class becomes poor... I guess that's where you are, what your luck...

you were heading to your next "job" place. you had to clean for a really sweet old couple, the Wrights. They couldn't afford much either but they try to help you whenever they can. Example, you clean places that they cant reach, in exchange they give you dinner, as much as they can. you always wish them good health. they are too sweet for this unfair world.

you were lost in your head, enjoying the memories and conversation you had with them. But when you to their place, you see 3 grown men towering over Mr. Wright.

"please understand.. we aren't here for trouble but your son does owe us some money. were just here to collect."

"please.. we havent seen our son in months. hes not here."

"come on, blue carb! i wanna go home! if you dont tell us-"

"Floyd, we aren't here for threats."

"hmm..? oh my... what do we have here?"

the light hair man turn to you with a very scary smile. You didnt have time to take even a step when one of the men grabs you by the arm. he had teal hair with a black stirp. he had awful smile that showed off his sharp teeth.. the smile looked every threatening..

"were just here to talk about business, why dont you scram shrimpy."

you started to tremble and turned to Mr. Wright. he gave you a weak smile and moved his hand like to shoo you away.

"go on dear. it'll be okay."

you gulped in terror but you dug your heels into the ground. if you didn't, who knew what these shady guys would do to this kind old couple.

"h-he.. said he hasn't seen his son! n-ow get out of here before i call the police!!"

"..."

".."

"..."

everyone got quiet.. no one moved.. the men seem stun by your outburst. the man, that was holding you, didn't seem to like your outburst and gripped your arm, harder. it hurts..!

"tck.. im getting really annoyed, shrimpy... Should break your arm to show you-"

"actually Floyd, i have a better idea."

the light hair man walks up to you and hands you a card.

"i am Azul Ashengrotto. i run a cafe called the Mostro Lounge and Mr. Wright's son has owe us a pretty penny~"

The way he spoke gave you chills. You hated it. it was too sweet when you knew that the words he spoke are laced with poison.

"What if-..."

You had to take a long deep breath, you're risking a lot for even thinking this... but you had to. you were the only able person to protected these people who gave you more than you've asked.

"what if... i worked for you..? i'll work for you, pay off the owe money and you'll have to leave Mr. and Mrs. Wright alone! Deal..?"

the light hair man pauses.. then smiled. he put his hand out for a handshake.

"Its a Deal."

when you took his hand, that was it. you had to say goodbye to your home away from home. you gave mr.wright a smile and left with the strange men...

~~~

the next few weeks you learned what they did, kind of, and what they needed of you. they didn't tell you 100% of everything but you were supposed to be their servant, or an errand boy, or something like that?

the job wasn't bad at all. you cleaned, get anything they need, run things for them. sometimes they call you for... personal reasons. In exchange you get 3 meals a day and a comfortable room. which honestly, you weren't complaining. before, you would have one meal a day and even sleep on either a hard floor or a gross mattress. At this rate, after you finish paying off the Wright's debt, you might just stay here.

sometimes the job brings pretty scary people that show up out of nowhere. they often had big weapons to their side, some would have the weapons ready and loaded. Jade, Floyd, or Azul often gets you out of the way and most times tell you to cover your ears and close your eyes. sometimes they have you clean up their messes after these scary men... "leave." you knew better but you cant really say or do anything about it so.. you just don't question it.

after a month, you thought you get used to your new home life now but- you accidentally ran into someone or someone ran into you.

"oh my-! are you okay? im so sorry!! i-"

"no no! its okay. i should have been more careful."

the mysterious man helped you up. he had bright red eyes and white white that complement his dark skin every nicely. he had a black dress shirt and a red suit with gold accents, red dress pants to match. when he helped you up, you notice he's hands are really soft. big contrast to your hands.

"I'm sorry again."

he was about to run away but stopped and sheepishly turn and smile at you. it kind of reminded you of a happy teenage.

"actually... do you know where the Mostro lounge is? i... i think im lost. hehe." he scratched the back of his head. the embrassement on his face was slowly growing on you because he kept smiling.

it was kinda weird to see someone around here with such a bright smile..? like an genuine smile or maybe hes just a good actor or something..? you cant say.

"oh.. its a left then a right." you poked.

"kk! thank you~"

he turned and ran away again. you were about to leave but he stopped you again.

"can you actually walk with me there..? i asked directions before and got lost.. hehe~ pretty please?"

with his charming smile, you couldnt help but smile back.

"okay, follow me."

during your walk there, he asked a few question. they were harmless questions, enough. favorite colors? favorite food? favorite animals? where have you been? favorite places to go? etc.

when you got there a tall man with dark skin and long beautiful black hair rushed to your side, well more like to the other man.

He had the same outfit as the white hair man but they both wore it differently. which wasnt a bad thing. it compliment their personalities. Like jade, floyd, and azul do with their suits too.

"Kalim! where have you been?! we just left the elavoter and you were gone from my sights?! why did you-?"

"oh ya! i saw this pretty ocean theme pillows and i wanted to get some but you had my wallet hehe~ so... can i get them? they be perfect for-!"

"no. ugh..."

you felt really uncomfortable... it was like a mother scolding her kid... the black hair man looked at you. you shifted your feet uncomfortably.

"who are you? i dont remember you from our last visit?"

you raise your hands up and backed up slightly. people here are either very suspicious, they often come to see azul for his deals, or naive soul, that came for the ocean-like atmosphere.

"im just a-"

two arms snaked around you. you started to freak out. this is how you die--!!!

"shrimpy!! where's my drink~~? ive asked it for about... like 10 minutes ago~~~"

Oh! its just Floyd. he practicely moaned in your ear. it was a lot to get used to Floyd's mood swings. but you learn to avoid him when hes upset or just do want he says and not say too much. if he tries to tease you, he often gets bored and wonders to do who knows what.

"oh! hi sea snake! hi sea otter!"

"Floyd.. for the last time, stop calling us-

"hi Floyd!! haha!"

the white hair man jumped up and join the hug! you were getting crushed between these two... you were patting their backs in a way to say "okay thank you but-- that enough..!!! im dying! let me go!"

"jamil! Kalim! its great that you made it! a bit late but- i cant say im suprised."

"tsk.. hello jade... azul..."

the dark hair man, pulled the white hair man off you. it helped but Floyd is still squeezing you like he was trying to kill you, not literally... hopefully.

"ah.. its seems that you met our new hire. Jamil, Kalim, this is (mc)."

you, trying your best with the situation youre in with floyd right now, bowed your head as jade introduced you.

"hehe. we found shrimpy when we were at the Wright's place."

"did you get the money..?"

"no~ they were being stubborn but (mc) offer to pay off the money that was owed so i cant complain too much."

azul spoke and rubbed your head like a kid. you didnt like how they were talking about you like you werent there. or rather, talking about the Wrights like they were bad.. but you held your tongue. you didnt want to get them mad... especially when floyd is still holding you.

"ohh.. poor (mc). dont worry, well protect you from those mean people. im kalim, Kalim al-asim!"

"Kalim!"

"and thats jamil, Jamil Viper."

"Kalim! dont give our names to strangers! you dont even know them-"

"Well then~ we'll just have to just spend time with them!"

Kalim.. Kalim al-asim.... an Al-Asim.. Al-Asim! This smiling ray of sunlight is an Asim??

apparently your face paled because Kalim reached for your face and held your face into his hands. he gave you a giggle and smiled as he massage your cheeks in his hands.

"hehe youre so cute. after our meeting with Azul, i want to hangout with you on your break. when is it? hmm?"

you turned to Azul, he nodded his head in approval.

"i-its.. its in 2 hours from now.. sir.."

"hehe.. no need to talk so formal. just call me Kalim. And okay, on your break, meet me by the front door of the Mostro lounge, kk?

"y-yes.. kalim.."

he gave you a smile and all the 5 men started to head to Azul VIP room..

what did you get yourself into....

~~~

You've been spending a lot of your time with kalim as of late. To the point where you felt guilty for leaving work.. but you'd feel more guilty for saying no to kalim. You tried once. It was one too many.

You initially wanted to keep some distance. But with kalim's smile and charisma, you couldn't say no. Kalim always found a way to have lots of fun and he will always include you too.

Every time you came back to the Mostro lounge, floyd gives you a stink eye and a "why wasn't i invited~?" whine. Jade gives you his creepy smile and does a weird thing by leaning in and asking "did anything exciting happened~?", whatever that means. Azul doesn't seem upset at all. It made you anxious. Is he marking down your pay when you're out with kalim..? You checked your accounts and you were still getting payed for your work but.. you didn't do any work..?

You decide to talk to azul about it. You didn't want something like this be in the air, with someone as slimy as azul.. and with money no least!!

You knocked.

"Um.. azul..? Are you busy?"

You peeked through the door of Azul's office, and they vip room.

"... no. What do you need..?

he was working on some papers and he looked.. unpleased.

"I.. ill ask later."

You tried to take your leave befor-

"You wanted to ask about your pay..?"

You slowly turn to him. His face hasn't changed from that unpleased expression.

"Y-yes sir.."

Azul sighed, lend back into his chair, took off his glasses and rubbed his face as he let's out another sigh.

"Kalim is... renting you."

What..?

"And he also requested for you to still get payed because, his words.. 'they're still working.'"

He started to stare at you. You didn't think he meant it to look intimidating, because he can't see you, he doesnt have his glasses on. But it still was very unpleasant.

You were at lost of words. Kalim al-asim... is renting you..? You weren't mad but you weren't happy too. Spending time with kalim is really fun and his personality is really refreshing. But being told you were 'rented out' feels.. dehumanizing. But with your life, you can really feel anything else..

"Is that all..?"

"Yes sir.."

"Good, you may leave."

You bowed your head and left, making sure to close the door softly behind you.

What do you do now..?

~~~

Now after every visit from kalim, the moment becomes a little sour. He's paying azul to spent time with you, but why? He's an al-asim. He could get anything he wants right? Why would he spend time with a common rat like you..?

What are you to him?

"(Mc)? You okay?"

You looked up and kalim was really close to you! You jolted and lean back

"I-im okay! Its just.. work. Heh.. work just be exhausting and im just.. I'm okay!"

You smiles, you didn't notice that kalim stopped smiling.. he was still looking at you but just not smiles. it would have scared you to your core if it wasnt for you trying to change the topic by looking at the scenery. A minute past and his smile came back, brighter.

"Why don't you come with me then?"

"huh..?"

"You could live in the al-asim estate and you don't have to lift the finger! Serverts will come to your every beckon call and you get to live.. like an Asim."

As you were staring at him, lost of words, he gently took your hand. You didnt even noticed it until he pulled your hands to his lips and kissed it.

"K-kalim! I-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he stood in front of you and got on one knee.

You felt sick

"(Mc)... "

You felt dizzy

"Will you-"

This has to be a dream!!!

"Be mine?"

He sweet innocent smile made you feel sick. How can can someone so dangerous be so naive?!? You bearly knew him! He bears knew you!!

"I.. i-i have to go!!"

You ran off, back to Mostro Lounge, back to your room, leaving a sad otter left on one knee..

~~~

You were in your room for 3 days..

You weren't payed for those days but you didnt care..

You felt sick and a little guilty. Kalim looked so sad when you left him. Maybe when you see him again... you could apologize and explain yourself..? By the seven! Would he still be mad at you? Will he order for you to be erased??

You felt nausea.

You needed to get some water.

Luckily it was night time, you wouldn't likely run into floyd, jade, or azul.. maybe?

You walked through the dark halls, only using your memories and the walls to guide you.

You were lost in thought and didn't realize a figure coming up behind you. By the time you did noticed, the figure quickly over powered you and you were imbraced into darkness.

~~~~

[Before the proposal]

"Azul!!? how much does the Wrights owe!?"

Kalim bursted into Azul's office, with a tired Jamil following behind.

"ah! K-Kalim! you know you have to make an ap-"

"i know i know! this is important though!!"

Kalim rushes up to Azul's desk, slamming his hands down on to the desk and leaned over to Azul. he was like a jumping dog..

"i want to ask (mc) to marry me!!"

everyone froze and even jade and Floyd, they were walking by, looked at Kalim like he was crazy.

"Kalim! I know your father has told you about being an Al-Asim and your responsibility to your family and making an hair but not like this!!"

"come on, Jamil~ they're perfect~ they're sweet and kind. they're responsible and hard working, like father wanted. they're just... perfect!"

Kalim goes through his phone and looks at pictures of you he took when you hanging out with him and even ones he requested from Jade and Floyd, secret cameras. They vary between you working and you when you think youre alone...

Azul rubs his face and gives a long sigh.

"look kalim. Even if your display of affection is definitely... something... (mc) is still working the Wrights' debt off. if they're not here then-"

"oh! that's another amazing thing about them! they were willing to help the Wrights without even knowing what they were getting themselves into. with the amount of debt the Wrights have, (mc) would be working until they're in their 70s. Thats why i need to protect them, do they even know about the Wrights 'situation'?"

Floyd lays on the couch in the VIP room, with candy in his mouth.

"nope! Jade thought it would help (mc) stay motivated to work. you saw how upset they got whenever we talk about the Wrights. they're so cute but so obedient that they don't even asked what they did to get in their situation, HAHA! silly shrimpy~!"

Floyd laughs and Jade chimes in.

"To be fair, we did get them out of a 'dangerous situation'. what the Wrights were doing to them was shameful.. Saying their debt was all because of their son, who has been dead for 10 years, and saying they dont have money but is found actively going to clubs spending more. the fact that they're living in the poorest town, and looking like weak old people. they're fooling everyone with the act. Everyone, including (mc)~"

Jamil turned and glared at Azul.

"wait-.. you didn't even tell them..? and you kept them working here?"

"think whatever Jamil, someone has to pay the debt off."

"i can pay it!"

Kalim looks at Azul, he was giving a determined look. Azul sighs again, why is everyone in his office. He has too much work to do.

"i know you can but you know-"

"in exchange, give me (mc)."

Jamil was about to stop Kalim but-

"(mc), yes, they work here under false pretenses but they have became a big asset to us. if you were to take them, it will take a long time to replace them."

Kalim walks closer to azul. with his serious expression, to say left everyone on edge was an understatement.

"i will pay 3x the Wrights' debt... as long as i get (mc)."

Azul looks at Kalim and a sick smile appears. He held out his hand.

"Its a Deal."

~~~~

This took so long! but i did it! i hope you guys enjoy it. if you guys like me to draw something for this, just ask, until then, back into my wips qwq

[jyakkopotto-saddo-gaaru]

i think the main thing i hate about 'suicide units' in school health classes is how bad the advice is. like wtf??? no dont tell a persons parents theyre suicidal without the persons permission thats fucked up

instead of doing what school tells you, please follow these rules:

dont tell authority figures about someone's suicidal thoughts/sh unless you know theyre in active danger or they gave you permission. its a breach of privacy and trust, and it could put them in a bad spot if their parents are abusive.

please dont treat a suicidal person with pity/babying. its just plain demeaning. unless youre sure theyre okay with something else, treat them normally and just check in on them more.

and if YOURE suicidal, they dont even teach you how to deal with it or cope, they just give you 988/other hotline and send you on your way. its superficial care.

here are some ACTUAL tips if youre suicidal/struggling in anyway with mental illness:

if you cant do things the way youre supposed to, then cut corners. some is better than nothing.

the little things can make a difference. seeing your keychain always makes you feel a little better, so take that keychain everywhere. it wont fix everything, but a little bit of joy can go a long way.

find other people who are struggling like you. online spaces are a good start! however, if you feel like the environment is just making you feel negative and more depressed, you should leave to prevent further harm.

FIND THINGS YOU ENJOY. please. whether it be rhythm games, reading, drawing, hell, doing math equations, things that youre passionate about can be like a rock to support yourself when it gets bad. they make you feel better, they give you a purpose (though you dont need one to be worthy of life, remember that) and they give you something to connect to others with.

try to get some sunlight. vitamin D deficiency is awful and can cause serious depression, so letting the sun do its job can make you feel a little better. bonus points for either going outside or opening a window to get fresh air!

as soon as you can comfortably and safely do so, please try to go to a therapist to help you figure out how to cope with your symptoms. theyll still be there, but they can live alongside you instead of preventing you from living.

a lot of this stuff can be good for executive dysfunction too! if you need depression meals, a basic rule of thumb is to try and get all the food groups. if you only have instant noodles and some eggs, then make the instant noodles as cook the eggs in the broth. if you only have rice, peanuts, and some hot sauce, put those together. etc etc. there are tons of great resources out there too, ill probably reblog later with some.

most of all, of you seriously think youre at your wits end and might kill yourself after another issue, or maybe your parents yelled at you, or maybe you got laid off, whatever it is, call a hotline. things can be fixed, but if theyre fixed when youre gone, you wont be around to see how happy you could be :(

okay thats all. i hope i gave a few people better health education than school did. try to drink some water and maybe have a snack if you havent, and remember, i love you!!

(ps im not a licensed professional nor am i an expert, ive just been pretty depressed and suicidal for a long time, so this is speaking from mine and other's experience. if anyone else has something to say on it, i encourage sharing!! lets use our collective knowledge to defeat the pta mandated shallow health class)

[stevie-petey]

oh also,,, whenever you wanna write. chap 6 steve & robin pov blurb because i am so sure steve would be going on and on about bug once she left so my soul needs that thank you <3

im kicking myself idk why i didnt include this scene in the chapter like its PERFECT for what i have planned later but ,,, for now all i can do is make it a blurb n tell people to read it lmao

enjoy <3

"it didnt matter that you were an ass. i was still... obsessed with you." robins confession hangs in the air. her back is pressed against steves as they lay on the floor, bound together. his eye stings and his nose is numb and crusted with dried blood. he isnt sure why shes telling him this.

"even though all of us losers pretend to be above it all, we still just wanna be popular. accepted. normal."

the rope around steves wrists tense. he clenches his fists and bites the inside of his swollen cheek. acceptance. he thought he had that, once. when he was sixteen with a crowd of people who wouldve done anything for his attention.

now hes eighteen and the crowds bruises still tinge his body.

"if it makes you feel any better, having those things isnt all that great. seriously." it took him a long time to learn that. to recognize that his acceptance was merely a precedence. it wasnt real friendship. he wouldnt learn this until he met you, until you taught it to him. "it just baffles me. everything that people tell you is important, everything that people say you should care about, its all just... bullshit."

bullshit. nancy taught him that, too.

"its all just bullshit, it was so obviously bullshit. i was an idiot for not realizing it sooner," steve bites the inside of is cheek again. somehow, his lips remained untouched when he was being beaten by the russians. your lips still linger on his. "you know, the only person who saw through my bullshit was y/n. one day, before we knew about monsters and russian lairs, she said that she knew i wasnt a bad person. it... it stuck with me. here she was, y/n henderson, telling me i wasnt so bad."

"and then...?" robin is almost too afraid to press him further. shes never seen him like this, vulnerable and open. she didnt know that his history with you went beyond just a summer fling.

steve nudges his head back and sighs. "i messed up. i... i hurt people. people she cared about."

robin frowns. you wouldnt forgive someone so easily for that. theres more to what steve is saying, she just cant figure out what. "she must really love you, then. if she forgave you."

"i dont know if she loves me, but i know that she believes in me. sees someone worth putting up with." he huffs, he cant believe he will never see you again. he hates that he will never be able to thank you for seeing a version of him that no one else could. "it wasnt until i messed up that i realized she saw something in me. its ironic, isnt it? but i guess you gotta mess up to figure things out, right?"

he had to mess up to realize that he loved you, too.

"i hope so. i feel like my whole life has been one big error." robin admits. its the least she could do, offer steve a piece of herself in return for what hes offered her.

an unattractive snort escapes steve. he laughs, and his shoulders shake against robins. he understands exactly what she means. "yup."

"god, i wonder how y/n does it."

"does what?"

robin pauses, worries that she might reveal too much. but its steve. if theyre going to die together, he deserves to know. he has to know. "shes always able to see the error in people and love them anyways."

steve is quiet. he lets what she said settle over him. its what he loves the most about you. how youve always managed to see the good in people, even in someone as cruel as billy. he hadnt known that robin noticed this kindness in you, too.

she seems to understand you in a way only he and jonathan do.

"you know, i wish id known you in clicks class." its a peace offering. an extension of himself to robin for caring about you the way he does. no one really seems to be able, despite how easy steve finds it to be.

"yeah?"

"really, i do. maybe you couldve helped me pass the class." he breathes out, the thought of all he couldve done differently will always haunt him. king steve is dead, but the persona is a ghost he will never be able to get rid of. "maybe instead of being here, id be with y/n on some romantic getaway. maybe you wouldve given me the courage to do what i shouldve done sooner."

robin doesnt say anything. she turns her face away, presses her cheek against the concrete surface.

"robin?"

she swallows. "yeah. yeah, maybe. you wouldnt have been stuck slinging ice cream with me like some smuck."

steve shakes his head. hes worried hes said the wrong thing. "hey, dont get me wrong. i enjoyed being your smuck. it was fun while it lasted."

bittersweetness creeps upon robins face. she smiles, though its a sad one. shes going to die with the understanding of why youve fallen so hard for steve harrington. "yeah. it was."

then the doors burst open and the russian find them.

[hehearse]

hello tumblr user hehearse. another ask BUT this time its NOT torturous song associations! i would just like to ask if you have specific thoughts on jinjae. because theyre SO fucking weird abt each other and they have me in a grip. i would like to know your thoughts on them ^^

GASP branching out aren't we? :D

i think they are incredibly fun. and horrible in their own way.

i love the fact that shj is NOT under yoojin's key word effect and he is Just Like That TM. bear with me for a sec. i was having yet another ted talk with dearest achro juuust recently about them, SO THERE ARE SOME HALF COHERENT THOUGHTS READY

i like how shj being the adult and not under the keyword effect gives some. agency in a way. so you know how yoohyun gets all the love despite him being the way he is. for the price of him moulding his entire being around yoojin? or more like HE decides THAT is the price and the only context for the love to be deserved and a fair trade so to speak. when he breaks the mould, he does not lose the privilege of being loved. he was chosen when he was that way to begin with. and anyway, yoojin gives so much leeway to yoohyun even in the frame of his views on good and bad - because love runs deep, and there are many things he'll let slide or let go, as long as yoohyun - and other kids - are happy.

but shj is an adult, not yoojin's kid. might sound obvious but. that gives him agency to fuck up his relationship with yoojin, and he actively chooses not to do it when he moves to the "partner" stage!! (because hyunje very clearly was feeling out the boundaries in the beginning, wasn't he? pushing and pushing and poking the rot until yoojin cracked. and what a surprise that was huh. huh, shj?? he stopped after that. the lines established (by him) and he was not. entirely happy about what he saw, even if incredibly intrigued)

additionally. there is something to say about the playful lines they draw. yoojin has his pride and wants to at least APPEAR strong even when he is struggling. and in places where yoohyun or yerim would fluster him with excessive care and worry, shj gives him enough space to pretend for a bit. even if they both know he's lying. he lies himself too, to save yoojin his pride, doesn't he? the "ah, it's just my whims" attitude? isn't it easier to accept the lavish gifts and such when it's not personal? might just use since he is clearly an eccentric rich s class, right? (that shoots them both in the foot with yoojin feeling insecure, like shj can drop him at any point in time, but that's different story)

plus! plus!! the thrill of biting back at someone so powerful. the excitement of toying with the guy everyone feels threatened by. ^^ (and of course the fun of peeling of perfect appearance and seeing this sung hyunje who doesn't eat bread crusts, likes fishing and being annoying and playing into jokes and is SO good at it he catches on instantly, just give him an opening. a secret persona. makes you feel special, doesn't it?)

while love for yoojin seems natural (oh yoojin. the most guy ever. gah.), sung hyunje too. makes adjustments to win points. like with him treating yerim seriously, him taking in account yoohyun's possessiveness when proposing giving only one of his eyes to blind yoojin (because you know. yoohyun would be unhappy if he didn't get a chance to give his eye to his hyung. and he is his hyung's number one. so shj can't not take it into account - he likes his place number two after all).

ANYWAY. i think yoojin needs an Adult TM who won't necessarily break apart without him. but who would still like to have him around and let yoojin bully him a bit as a treat. and sung hyunje needs someone who can not only tolerate his nasty personality up close, but would ALSO bite back without a fear of retribution. makes life more fun that way. i suppose you can say they both need someone who would entertain their bullying but not leave or get scared or break apart. ^^

[wassup-its-e]

Can you tell us more about wynncraft? I've only barely heard/seen something about it but I am intrigued (bribe has worked). It's like an mmo, right? How difficult is this for someone to get into if they have absolutely no experience with that?

HAI YES, WYNNCRAFT IS A MINECRAFT MMORPG AND ITS HONESTLY ITS NOT THAT HARD TO GET INTO ONCE YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO its gonna have a new update soon so this is me being autistic about it because ive been playing for YEARS

its basically your typical mmo with insane questslines magic system class system etc but the thing that is so impressive about this is that

ITS IN MINECRAFT

the cutscenes are phenomenal and theyre all made using insane command blocks

the building and the environment the atmosphere everything is created by an incredible team of builders

THE CHARACTERS AND NPC WILL GIVE YOU EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENTS.

the lore is deep and interesting, its like watching a show from the beginning all silly fun and BOOM YOU'RE GONNA CRY AND BE IN DESPAIR AT THE MIDDLE WHERE EVERYTHING CHANGED.

my only recommend if you wanna start is to JUST PLAY IT IS SO MUCH FUN

and also do the secret discoveries {its basically where all the lore are}