#i'm not sure if they know well enough how much they mean to me 🥹 quite possibly wiling to bet that

[adore-gregor]

🤞

[noxtivagus]

🥺🫶🏼 can i just say i really love my friends sm

[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.” 

[astonmartingf]

GOOD RIDDANCE OP! ; CS55

carlos sainz x aston martin fan!reader . . . after breaking up with your stupid boyfriend your number one idol hooks you up on a date with one of his "sons" which is a driver from the same team your ex boyfriend likes

amgf i'm back to my roots!!! carlos sainz fics 😛 y'know some amgf lore is that carlos was the first driver i knew other than lewis but he's everywhere atp i think everyone knows him and i saw clips of him talking about alonso that i looked him up and saw him and look at me now, insane. maybe this is a little too self indulgent but what can i say, i cater to myself first when writing so... enjoy pwahahahahahaha because i had fun writing this 😋👍

yourusername uploaded a new story

[i might actually pass out, someone call the doctor rq!!!! what is actually happening]

yourusername

liked by astonmartinf1, fernandoalo_oficial, and 26,941 others

yourusername uhm welcome to spa?

view 7,752 comments

user32 yooooo you're in spa what the heck????

user50 if i had tweeted something like that would i have been invited to a race instead?

user38 con 😭 gra 😭 tu 😭 la 😭 tions 😭

user93 imagine breaking up with boyfriend because of fernando alonso and then going to the race with fernando alonso

user05 SLAYYYY BABES!!!!!!

user17 i know exboyf is fuming //////

comment is liked by the user

user48 oh to be invited by your favorite driver 🥹🥹🥹🥹

user72 @/charlesleclerc my ex boyfriend broke up with me because i've been a fan of you can i get tickets to see you 😭🤲🤲

→ charlesleclerc HAHAHAHAHA send the team your details, we'll find a way

user49 not this being a new way to get tickets 😭

user64 trendsetter yn!!! but also deserve because he actually a pos and good riddance to him

comment is liked by user

yourusername uploaded a new story

[i know a spot he says... 10/10 for the tacos but 100/100 for the company <3]

f1wagscentral

f1wagscentral A new wag in the making? Following the viral tweet of a Fernando Alonso fan, YN LN took F1 fans in a storm with her story time about her ex-boyfriend breaking up with her because of the 2-time World Champion.

In recent news a fan tweeted to YN asking for updates about the date set up by her idol, who confirmed that things are indeed going smoothly which delighted the matchmaker, revealing he knew about their plans.

Fans deduct two drivers in the grid who could be a potential partner for YN which are Lando Norris and Carlos Sainz, with YN's instagram account privated, little information is known. Who are you rooting for, team 🌶️ or 🧡?

view 980 comments

yourusername 🔒

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, carlossainz55, and 5 others

yourusername i have a life outside being a fernando alonso fan 🤞

view 25 comments

carlossainz55 i always knew i was the other man in our relationship

→ yourusername i'm glad you know how important fernando alonso is to me ❤️

→ yourusername especially because i hate your team, fuck ferrari thank god you're moving to williams

→ carlossainz55 is that why you haven't soft launched me yet?

→ yourusername you mean hard launch?

→ carlossainz55 WAIT.... is that really the reason???? amor?????

→ yourusername i'm joking stop spamming my messages, wth

→ carlossainz55 don't joke with me amor

→ yourusername it may or may not be the reason.....

→ carlossainz55 how could i have missed it 🙄 not surprised, we both know how much you hate ferrari, nonetheless glad you took the chance

→ yourusername and if i told you i dated you to make my ex boyfriend jealous?

→ carlossainz55 well you love me don't you?

→ yourusername i think that's entry level babes, ofc i love you so much 😘

→ carlossainz55 i'm sure your love is enough to make him jealous, his loss and a win for me 😛

→ yourusername wow you're so cute, come home faster now 😠

→ carlossainz55 aye aye boss 🫡

→ yourusername we can watch fernando alonso clips right?

→ carlossainz55 whatever you want amor 😘

[astonmartinii]

head over handlebars | lance stroll social media au

pairing: lance stroll x fem cyclist reader

some can be described as head over heels for their partner, lance just loves to go the extra mile

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

.・゜゜・ part of the aston martini summer olympics ・゜゜・．

yourusername

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tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: note to self, do not take lance to olympics training

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user1: MY HEART STOPPED I THOUGHT IT WAS Y/N FOR A SECOND

user2: for real i need my cycling queen in tip top shape that gold is calling her name

lancestroll: THERE WAS A ROCK ON THE ROAD I SWEAR I AM NOT COMPLETELY INCOMPETENT

yourusername: you don't need to explain yourself to me sweetie

lancestroll: are you sure 🥺

yourusername: yes honey i know you just wanted to keep up

lancestroll: i didn't want to hold you back 🥺

yourusername: it's okay babe, just focus on recovering, you are also a professional athlete, remember?

lancestroll: oh yeah....

user3: bro so down bad he forgot he's a whole formula one driver

user4: i need my man like this and nothing else

estebanocon: okay you've been nice enough now, how much did you laugh?

yourusername: I DIDN'T LAUGH

mickschumacher: he's fine!!! you can admit it this is a safe space !!

yourusername: he's got two broken wrists dude?

mickschumacher: and? he's already had surgery we're legally allowed to laugh

yourusername: okay fine... IT WAS SO FUCKING FUNNY ... obviously when i realised he was actually hurt it wasn't funny but like objectively it was funny

lancestroll: i guess it was kinda funny

yourusername: ALSO THE SOUND HE MADE WAS SO FUCKING FUNNY

user5: i mean yeah objectively it is funny that the boyfriend of an olympic cyclist fell off of his bike

user6: anyone wanna bet there wasn't a rock?

lancestroll: ...

lancestroll

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, estebanocon and 634,290 others

tagged: yourusername

lancestroll: i think i'm going to stick to four wheels ... good luck to the love of my life at the olympics, you're going to kill it !! xx

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user8: move over lance, we're ALL y/n's wag for the olympics

user9: every four years i become appropriately feral over this woman

lancestroll: every four years is rookie numbers pal

fernandoalo_oficial: WHERE ARE MY TICKETS LANCITO ???

lancestroll: excuse me ?

fernandoalo_oficial: i am bicycle enthusiast where are my tickets

fernandoalo_oficial: also i need to support my daughter

yourusername: i have acquired another father?

fernandoalo_oficial: yes and a supportive one so CHOP CHOP CANADA BOY WHERE ARE MY TICKETS ???

lancestroll: god fucking damnit i'm getting them old man

fernandoalo_oficial: thank you 🫶🥹

user10: well... that was something

user11: at least it means we'll get both lance and nando olympics content

yourusername: thank you baby !!! once i get that gold, we'll put that cardboard bed to the real test

lancestroll: 🤭🤭🤭

mickschumacher: IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING SALAD

yourusername: you're not invited ???

yourusername: also don't say you haven't thought about it

user12: VLOG? VLOG? VLOG?

user13: you people are nasty (please please please)

yourusername

liked by teamgb, fernandoalo_oficial and 609,204 others

tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: dreams do come true, never give up. thank you for always supporting me baby xx

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user15: i think i died and went to heaven

user16: i'm not even british but i felt so patriotic watching her fly around that track

user17: singing god save our queen but for HER ONLY

lancestroll: SO FUCKING UNBELIEVABLY PROUD OF YOU

lancestroll: i would say i can't believe it but i can you are the most talented person i have ever met and you can do anything you put your mind to

lancestroll: i'm so glad you wanted to share this moment and your life with me xx

yourusername: awww baby you're going to make me cry again 🥹💗 i'm so so so happy you could be there because i wouldn't be here without you and this gold is just as much yours as it is mine

lancestroll: NO!!!!! this is your gold and yours alone, you earnt it with your own blood, sweat and tears. just being in a relationship is the real win for me here

yourusername: i love you 🥰

lancestroll: i love you more 🩷🩷🩷

user18: now THAT is a man who loves his girl oh wow

user19: like it's cute when athletes say that their wins are for their loved ones but it's nice when their partners tell them that it's THEIR win

user20: i love them so much

mickschumacher: THAT WAS FUCKING SICK

estebanocon: HOLY SHIT I'M STILL SO FUCKING HYPED

fernandoalo_oficial: THAT'S IT YOU'RE MY FAVOURITE NOW

yourusername: ahahahaa thank you guys !! thanks for coming to support me xx

user21: this little group and their olympics adventures is so dear to me

user22: we better see more of y/n in the paddock after the summer break now

lancestroll

liked by estebanocon, mickschumacher and 832,013 others

tagged: yourusername

lancestroll: i'm head over handlebars for you (quite literally) and i'm so proud of you, you deserve everything and more

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user23: bro won gold and is going to marry into one of the richest families ever, does she know how to lose?

user24: she needs to tell me her secret FOR REAL

yourusername: i love you so much lance, thank you for being there for me always

lancestroll: and i'll be there for you forever, if you'll have me

yourusername: there's no man i'll ever want again

lancestroll: and i don't want to be with anyone else ever

yourusername: we're so sappy i love us

lancestroll: why wouldn't i be sappy? i love you and it makes me mushy

mickschumacher: IT ALSO MAKES YOU LATE HURRY THE FUCK UP WE'RE TRYING TO GET DRUNK ON BEHALF OF Y/N

user25: thank the lord mick because i love these two as much as the next person but this level of loneliness as well as jealous towards people who are good at sports is CONCERNING FOR MY HEALTH

user26: so so so valid

user27: literally why didn't my parents push me into a sport when i was a toddler

estebanocon: first of all, fuck you for making us stand outside your hotel room while you banged. second of all, HURRY THE FUCK UP FERNANDO SAID HE'D COVER THE TAB AND WE NEED TO GET A COUPLE OF DRINKS BEFORE THE OLD MAN HAS TO GO TO BED

mickschumacher: i think they're still busy

estebanocon: ....

yourusername: WE'RE SORRY WE'RE COMING

mickschumacher: you sure were 🤨

lancestroll: okay we're finished you guys can stop being perverts

user28: okay so like this is proof these people are fucking insane even after things like WINNING A FUCKING GOLD MEDAL ???

user29: and they're queens for that i don't care

fin.

note: i am so so busy, i kind of hate this but i hope you guys enjoyed it!! xx

[simpee9000]

I love your “not just friends” series🥹 im obsessed! Im hoping to see more I love it soooooooooooo muchhhh!!!!!!! Even telling my friends to read it

But I saw a bakugo headcanon by another anon about him having a crush which I wanna add a spin on, what if he rejected this said crush back in middle school but developed feelings after xD I find it funny

Thank you !!! I'm glad you enjoy it so much!

And that is literally Katsuki Bakugo, can't see him not doing it tbh. (This was also a lot longer then I planned for it to be- I just started typing and here we are- 1k)

He isn't confused about a lot of things in life but his feelings definitely stump him. He tries to analyze other people and how they react to people, but the dots just don't connect. He hears people rave on and on about how cute their crush is, but he just doesn't get it.

It's not that he hasn't been introduced to it either. I mean, it's middle school. Everyone is crazy about dating someone even if it's just to hold their stupid hand. Bakugo didn't get it, he honestly didn't want to get it. Sure he wanted to understand it, but only so he could know a weakness or some shit. He didn't want the gushy feelings or anything such.

Rejecting girl after girl was normal for him, people just loved how great he was. But after the first year of middle school that stopped. Mainly because of how rudely he rejected every girl in the past, but also because of you.

You got extremely close with him rather quickly, working your way into his life and friend groups. It was rare to see you away from each other.

Yet when you confessed to him in your last year of middle school, he stood still. It was the only confession he hesitated on. And while you swayed on your feet, anxious for a reply, he tried to cough up any words possible.

But the only ones that came out were. "You're not special."

In the most blunt way possible, he crushed your dreams. With the way he was looking at you, it was like he couldn't fathom the thought that you thought you were good enough for him, different than all the other girls. So you choked up any spiteful things you wanted to say and nodded before walking off.

He didn't necessarily like you then, but the thought didn't seems gross. So when he watched you walk away, he shrugged it off. You'd talk to him tomorrow definitely.

When tomorrow came and went, he was waiting for you to show up by his side at any second. But of course, you never did. You waited a day before showing up to class, but when you did you stuck near your other friends.

It stayed that way too. You only nodded at him after you finished middle school, a small final goodbye.

So it was rather unfortunate that one of your friends happened to be Izuku. It was a hard-built friendship, but he's very forgiving.

You came and visited the dorms often, encouraged by his mother to help him get by easier.

Bakugo hated it, you never even looked his way.

When he googled his feelings he didn't want to believe the words typed on his screen. It was all saying he was jealous. He'd never been jealous of anything, especially nothing Deku had.

Eventually, Kirishima pointed it out, commenting on the glare he was giving Midoriya. He also called him out the next day, when he kept glaring despite you not being there.

The day he cracked was after he fought Deku, after being yelled out by Aizawa he and Deku were told to wait.

Bakugo mentioned your name in a mumble at first before Deku questioned it. "She like you or some shit?"

"What?!"

"You fuckin' heard me," he spat back.

"No!" Deku scrambled for a reason. He knew you had a crush on Bakugo before, but you haven't mentioned it in a while, "Do you?"

"Do I like you?!"

"NO! HER!"

Bakugo's aggression faded as he thought. Everyone was saying that. Kirishima, his dad, and now Deku. He gave a small shrug because he was unsure.

"She still asks about you," Deku decided to say, rather than poke the bear.

"Hm."

"Wanting to know if you're okay. After the sludge, and after.. well you know," Deku mumbled.

The door opened before anything else could be said, but even if it didn't, they both knew the conversation was over.

Feeling the commonly named butterflies in his stomach, at just the thought of you thinking of him still, was odd. It was an entirely new feeling. After googling, once again, he came to terms with the fact that he finally felt all the gushy feelings that everyone else got in middle school. The ones you used to have for him, hopefully still do.

He still waited a year to act on his conclusion first. But he still slowly tried to weave his way back into your life. Choosing to sit next to you when you visited, to othering you the remote.

Everything was without words for a while. Almost a year in he was forced to talk to you often. All conversations being awkward and strained.

Confessing was a different story, it was the last day you could visit before it was officially summer break before the second year. Everyone was all sat around watching TV, people leaving before they got too tired. Surprisingly, Bakugo and you were the last people in the living room. He didn't want to miss a second of your presence because he knew he couldn't see you during summer. He was so glad Aizawa let you stay late.

His head snapped away from the TV when you stretched to stand, silently grabbing your stuff.

"What are you doing?" he spoke before thinking.

You looked stunned, he never talked to you without you talking first, "It's late, I should go. Plus is it not past your bedtime?"

He glared at your joke before looking at the clock. It was 2:54a.m, you asked him out at 2:54 p.m in middle school.

"Do you still?"

"What?" you switched your weight onto one foot, crossing your arms confused.

"In middle school," he sighed, "do you still?"

"You're gonna have to be more specific."

"Have feelings and shit."

He still wasn't looking at you, but out of the corner of his eyes, he could see how you froze.

"I don't know how that's relevant," you huffed, embarrassed and annoyed that he'd be so cruel to bring up the rejection again.

"I do."

"Do what? Know how it's relevent? Of course you do, it's your brain-"

"Have feelings and shit," he mumbled, crossing his arms at how irated you sounded. He was finally making his move and you seemed pissed as hell.

You barked out a laugh, muffling it with your own hand, "You can't think I'm that stupid, right?"

"I'm being serious," he looked at you straight on for the first time. He was always easiest to read when you could see his eyes, and he looked nervous. Out of all the emotions you've seen on him, this wasn't one.

"Oh."

He sighed and looked down, "Don't gotta say anything, you can spend the night in the common room. No one will care," he pushed himself off the couch, turning to leave.

"Bakugo," you called out softly.

"Hm?"

"I might," your voice was shaky, "but I need to think about it. Know that you're not fucking with me or something."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. Take your time. You have my number."

[quickstappen]

track 001: end of the beginning

A/N: hello, welcome to another smau i guess, enjoy? this is the real reason why the latest part of carved my name was up so late yall ;) oscar won his first race and i had to do something!! i'm sorry to all the carlos fans, but someone's gotta be the bad guy, yk?

masterlist | next

december 2020

liked by prema_team, arthur_leclerc and others

paola_sainz I can't believe it is time to go, it still doesn't feel real. Thank you for those amazing years together, for the memories and happiness, I couldn't wish for better team, better friends, I love you all and I'll miss you tremendously. Cheers to the next chapter in our lives.

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prema_team We'll miss you vice-champ! Make sure to visit when you're around ❤️

↳ paola_sainz of course! I'll visit so much you'll get sick of me ;)

sainzssss_ noooooooo, what???

shithappens what. the. fuck.

carlossainz55 Excited for your new journey! Now you can spend more time in my garage 🔥😎

↳ paola_sainz yeah, im so excited too!

↳ quickstappen this seems... dry

↳ albono_23 right???

ilpredestinatox oh noo! you were the reason i decided to follow my dreams and go to college for mechanical engineering, i can't believe you're not gonna be racing anymore

↳ paola_sainz oh sweetie, i'm so glad you're following your dreams! dm me if you have any enfeneering problems - i can ask around and get back to you ;)

↳ nyoomf1 she's so sweet 🥹

arthur_leclerc I'll miss your annoying face you know? (only a tiny bit)

↳ paola_sainz acting like you won't see me at basically every race anyway (i'll miss you too) 🤍

↳ arthur_leclerc 🤍

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february 2024

liked by arthur_leclerc, jensonbutton and others

paola_sainz does it ever drive you crazy...?

3 years ago i was broken beyond recognition, i lost my purpose and will to carry on, i thought that without racing i was noone. to think that the same girl just sold out her first collection of athletic wear is absolutely crazy, i can't believe how far we've come and i can't wait to see what else we can do

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carlando333 girl 💀💀

↳ ilpredestinatox what do you mean, tf

↳ carlando333 Carlos literally just lost his seat for next year

↳ ilpredestinatox well, this is not carlos' page is it? she's not his keeper, she's allowed to be her own person

cuddlyxricc can she like,, read the room?

byelandoo lol, she does not care about the ferrari drama AT ALL

carlove55 are you gonna comment on the carlos situation??

shithappens she looked so happy when she was racing 🥺 i still can't accept that i'll never see her in a f1 car

↳ quickstappen right??

arthur_leclerc i am going to model the next collection

↳ paola_sainz don't know if you've noticed, but i make WOMEN'S athletic wear

↳ arthur_leclerc you just don't want to see me slay

↳ paola_sainz do not say slay ever again

charlosp1 💀

spanishxbabe so Carlos means nothing to you?

jensonbutton So proud! Brittany loves her set 🧡

↳ paola_sainz 🧡

charles_leclerc Knew you could do it Lola 🤍

↳ paola_sainz thank you for believing in me Charlie 🤍

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liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and others

paola_sainz oh baby, how good to see you again!

(also, charles_leclerc go and win me a race please, i don't know how many forza ferrari sempre's i have left in me)

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shithappens i'm sorry, is that a man? with my wife?

quickstappen queen is back in paddock!

arthur_leclerc so the ones with me in them were not good enough to make it, but the random one with him tying you're shoelaces made it?

↳ paola_sainz guess so, try harder next time

screwderriaf1 she's so real for that, Charles for WDC2024

↳ ilpredestinatox GIRL, be so fr rn

↳ screwderriaf1 just let me dream man

carlando333 oh come on! she doesn't care about carlos at all! fucking snake, thinking she's better than him🐍

logansargeant nice of you to visit old friends

↳ paola_sainz we're literally going for lunch tomorrow?

↳ sheilaxf1 they know each other??

↳ lewibear yeahh, since her time at prema i'm pretty sure

charles_leclerc Yeah, no pressure right

↳ paola_sainz you know it ;)

charlosp1 did she really say that she wishes that charles won and not her brother who's fighting for his future this season 💀

redmilton Paola Sainz soft launching a white man in the year 2024 was not on my bingo card

cuddlyxricc sorry but first no comment on carlos' seat and now this? yeah no, not cool

elmatadorf1 traitor! rooting for charles when your brother lost his seat because of him 🐍

madi_races is my girlfriend in a relationship with a.... man??

predestined55 absolutely no honour, not surprised tbh after seeing who she hangs out with 🐍

darth_nando can we please stop mentioning Carlos in every comment section under her posts? it's so unnecessary

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paola's messages:

YouTube, Screaming Meals | now playing:

↳ 01:52s - - - > - 04:37s

↳ 21:46s - - - > - 29:31s

↳ 52:14s - - - >- 1:08:11s

paola's messages:

madi's radio: okay look, the text between Spanish speakers.... i do not know Spanish and putting entire conversations through google translate is not the best, so let's just pretend they're in Spanish, yeah?

click here to be added to the hiding in the seams taglist!

DISCLAIMER: i do not know anything about this people, this is not real life, this is just something for fun, i do not know anythings about their life or personalities!

[pickingupmymercedes]

Leap of faith - Lewis Hamilton

It can be read as a separate one-shot. But with the story it just makes it so much better

Sequence: Not just a pretty face / I need you to let me go / Fly on my own / Leap of faith (bonus)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: couple who went through a lot finally getting their happily ever after 🥹❤️

wordcount: +2k

a/n: Their story has my whole heart and I thought they deserved this closure❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, the glow of fairy lights casting a warm light across the open Californian sky. Guests were scattered around tables, their faces glowing with joy and a bit of alcohol.

In the midst of it all, the newlyweds stood at the center of attention, surrounded by family and friends who had gathered to witness this moment.

Lewis stood there, his fingers lightly gripping the mic as he looked around the room.

His eyes landed on Y/n, and his usual confidence softened into something more tender. He took a breath, the kind that spoke volumes without saying a word, then began to speak with that familiar, easygoing tone.

"I've been thinking a lot about what I wanted to say today. You all know I’m not really one for speeches—well, at least not ones that don’t involve a podium anyway. But today, standing here, looking at Y/n, I realize that there are some things that need to be said. Things that have been in my heart for a long time, but that maybe I haven’t always found the right words for."

He glanced down at his new wedding band for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before looking back up at her.

"When I first met Y/n, I was... let’s just say I was a little too sure of myself. I thought I knew what I wanted out of life, what it meant to be successful, to be happy. But Y/n... she changed all of that."

He paused, his eyes softening as he took in her face, the way she looked at him with that mix of affection and amusement that only she could pull off.

"I won’t pretend that our journey has been easy. It hasn’t. There have been times when I wondered if we’d ever get here, if we’d ever figure out how to make it work. But through it all, there was this pull—something that kept drawing me back to you. It felt inevitable."

There was a brief silence, the kind that came when words just didn’t seem enough, but he pressed on, his voice a little softer now.

"Over the years, I’ve felt so many things for you, Y/n. Admiration, frustration, pride, fear... love. So much love.

“But more than anything, I’ve felt lucky. Lucky to have met someone who sees me—not the driver, not the celebrity. The real me. And even luckier that, despite everything, you’ve chosen to stand by my side."

He shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips as if he was still a bit in awe of it all.

"You’ve taught me that love isn’t about finding someone who’s perfect—God knows neither of us are that. It’s about finding someone who’s willing to grow with you, to fight with you and for you, to laugh with you when things are good and hold you when they’re not.”

“It’s about finding that person who challenges you, who pushes you to be better, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard."

His voice caught slightly, just for a moment, and he cleared his throat before continuing.

"There were times when the distance, the pressures, the lives we lead seemed like too much. But every time I doubted, you showed up. You were always there, with your strength, your sarcasm, your endless belief in me. And slowly, I started to believe too. Believe that we were worth the fight, worth all the doubts."

He stopped, letting those words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his tone more thoughtful now.

"I’ve thought a lot about what it means to commit to someone, to truly give yourself over to another person. It’s not something I’ve ever taken lightly. But then I remember when you asked me if I'd catch you. And how I just knew, somehow, that I could never let you fall. That I would always be there, arms wide open, ready to catch you."

He paused again, his eyes never leaving hers, and there was a rawness in his voice.

"You’ve been my biggest challenge and my greatest adventure. And through all the ups and downs, all the doubts and fears, one thing has remained constant: my love for you. It’s been tested, pushed to its limits, but it’s also grown stronger because of it. Stronger because of you."

There was a brief silence as he let those words sink in, both for himself and for everyone listening.

"I’ve come to realize that loving you, Y/n, isn’t trying to fit into some perfect mold, some idea of what we’re supposed to be. It’s embracing who we are, flaws and all. You make me want to be a better man, not because you ask me to, but because you deserve nothing less."

He took a deep breath, the emotion in his voice becoming more apparent as he neared the end of his vows.

"I’ve been in some pretty high-pressure situations in my life. But standing here today, committing my life to you, is by far the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

He smiled, a little wistful but also full of hope and love.

"You’ve always been the one, Y/n. Even when I didn’t know it, even when I tried to deny it, you were always the one. And, standing here, I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to. Because I’ve found home."

Lewis’s voice dropped to a near whisper, the words meant only for her, even as the room listened intently.

"I’m all in, Y/n. I’ve always been all in, even when I didn’t realize it. And I can’t wait to see where this leap takes us next. Because whatever happens, wherever we go, I know one thing for sure—I’ll always catch you."

He let out a small, almost relieved sigh, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Then, with a soft smile, he added,

"And I promise, for as long as I’m breathing, I’ll never let you fall alone."

As the last word left his lips and he smiled at his wife, Y/n stepped forward, closing the space between them. Her arms wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly, as if to anchor herself in that moment.

He embraced her, his lips brushing softly against her hair, leaving a tender kiss there as he breathed in her familiar scent for a minute, before she let go and nodded at him.

Y/n took a deep breath as she took the microphone from Lewis, her fingers lightly brushing over his fingers as she gazed at him.

His vows had been everything she expected and more, and now it was her turn.

She could feel the weight of the moment, the anticipation in the air, but as she turned away from him, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—mischief, affection, and a hint of that vulnerability she rarely let anyone see.

She glanced at the guests, her smile widening as she began to speak, her tone warm but laced with the familiar sarcasm that everyone knew.

“Well, that was something, wasn’t it?” Y/n’s voice carried through the room, earning a ripple of laughter. She turned her gaze back to Lewis, playfully narrowing her eyes.

 “Leave it to you to set the bar so damn high. Now I’m standing here, realizing that I should’ve probably gone first. But hey, that’s always been our dynamic, right? You go ahead, and I’ll catch up when I’m not that scared anymore.”

The guests chuckled, and Y/n took a moment to collect her thoughts. The teasing edge in her voice softened into something more genuine as she shifted her gaze back to Lewis.

“First off, let’s get this out of the way— you guys have no idea how much I’ve been trying to keep my cool all day.” She winked at the crowd, earning a few more chuckles.

“The fact that I’m standing here, in front of all of you, without a single escape plan in my back pocket is... growth.”

Her gaze shifted to her mother, who was sitting with tears already glistening in her eyes.

“I see you, Mom. I know what you’re thinking: ‘Finally, she’s not running.’ But, you know, there’s a story there.”

Y/n’s voice softened; her smile more tender as she addressed her mother.

“I get it now. All those times you tried to guide me, protect me from the world, from heartbreak—I know you were just trying to give me the best. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn’t listening, or worse, like I didn’t care. I did. I always have. I just... I had to figure it out in my own stubborn way”

She paused, letting her words sink in. Her mother nodded, lips trembling with a smile that spoke volumes more than any words could.

“And Dad,” Y/n continued, her eyes finding her father’s across the room.

“You always knew, didn’t you? You saw something in Lewis long before I did. And me, being me, I just rolled my eyes, thinking you were too eager to hand me off.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“But you were right. As always. And you never pushed, never pressured. You let me come to my own conclusions, and for that, I’m so grateful. You knew I needed time to figure out that Lewis was my away to learn how to fly.”

A wave of emotion caught in her throat, but Y/n swallowed it down, keeping her tone light as she turned to address Lewis’s parents. Her smile softened as she met their eyes.

“And to my future in-laws—Carmen, Anthony and Linda – God, I can’t believe I’m saying that out loud—thank you for raising a man who is patient enough to deal with all of this.”

She gestured to herself with a grin, drawing laughter from the guests.

“I know you probably didn’t sign up for a daughter-in-law who has a habit of running. I know it hasn’t always been easy, watching us go through everything, but I hope you know how much I love him. Thank you for welcoming me, quirks and all, into your family with open arms. I promise to take care of him, to be the partner he deserves.”

She turned then, her gaze locking onto Lewis. The room seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in that moment.

“And you” she began, her voice softer, more intimate. “Lewis... where do I even start? You’ve been my constant when I was chaos, my anchor when I was drifting.”

Another pause, her voice almost choking as she took one of Lewis’s outstretched hands.

“I begged you to let me go. I was so scared—of us, of what we were becoming, of what I was feeling. I thought if I ran far enough, fast enough, I could escape it.”

She took a breath, her eyes glistening.

“But you—God, you just wouldn’t let me go, even when I didn’t deserve you. You stood there, you saw right through all my bravado, and you told me you weren’t going anywhere. That you’d wait. And you did.”

She said the last part almost to herself, nodding incredulously.

“You waited while I sorted through my mess, while I ran from something I didn’t fully understand.”

A tear slid down her cheek, and she let it fall freely.

“I’ve been thinking about this day for a long time—Feels like I’ve been calling you my partner, my best friend, my everything for so long, but now… Husband. That’s a whole new level. I mean, look at you, sitting there all smug, knowing you got me to sign my life away."

She let out a small laugh, lightening the mood for a moment as everyone else felt the tension ease, only for her expression to turn more reflective again.

"Seriously though … when I first met you, I wasn’t looking for forever. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I was looking for tomorrow. I was stuck, scared, trying to navigate my own storm, and you—you were like this ridiculous beacon of light, just… shining. And I couldn’t ignore you, even though I really wanted to."

She paused, smiling as she recalled those early days.

"I kept telling myself, ‘Don’t get involved, don’t fall for the guy with the world at his feet.’ But then you’d do something… something so small, like remembering how I take my coffee or noticing when I was having a bad day without me saying a word. You were patient when I needed time, persistent when I pushed you away, and through all my doubts and fears, you became the person I couldn’t imagine my life without."

Y/n looked down for a moment, taking a breath before continuing.

“You lit something up in me that I didn’t even know was there, something that made me feel like I was enough. Like maybe, just maybe, I could be more than the sum of my fears and insecurities.”

She paused, her eyes softening again as she looked at Lewis.

"We’ve been through it, haven’t we? And I don’t just mean the glamorous stuff. I’m talking about the hard nights, the distance, the moments where I didn’t know if we’d make it through.”

There was a soft murmur among the guests as Y/n’s voice lowered, the raw emotion in her words unmistakable.

“We’re standing here today because you never let go, even when I wasn’t sure I could hold on."

Then the room was silent once again, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

“You’ve taught me that love it’s something you choose, every single day. That it resides in the little things—the way you pull me closer when I need it, the way you let me push you away for a bit when I’m too scared to let you in. It’s about the quiet moments, when you’ve stayed by me even when I didn’t ask, because you knew I needed you. The times when you’ve held me together when I felt like falling apart.”

She took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly before she regained her composure.

“I know I haven’t always been the easiest person to love. I’ve put up walls, kept you at arm’s length because I was scared of what it might mean to really let you in. But you never gave up on me. You never walked away, even when I gave you every reason to.”

Y/n’s voice trembled, but she steadied herself with a deep breath.

“Falling for you felt like coming home. Like finding the place I was always meant to be, the place where all the chaos was worth it”

She looked back at Lewis, her eyes shining with and her voice thick.

"Lewis, you were my leap of faith. And trust me, I’ve never been a fan of heights. But with you, it’s all about rising. Rising above my fears, my insecurities, all the things that used to hold me back."

She paused, blinking back tears as she smiled at the guests.

“You’ve been my rock, my safe place, the one who’s seen me at my worst and still loved me through it all.”

She wiped her cheek with a shaky laugh.

“There’s something terrifying about that, isn’t there? The idea that someone could know you so completely, so intimately, and still choose to stay. You’ve chosen me, even when I wasn’t sure if I could choose myself.”

She took a deep breath, her voice trembling with emotion as she continued.

“I always think back to that night – you know the one – when I asked you if you’d catch me or if I’d have to learn to fly on my own. You didn’t hesitate. You just opened your arms and let me fall… fall into you.”

Y/n’s breathing trembled again.

“And that’s when I knew. No matter what happened, no matter where life took us, I’d never be alone. Because I had you. I had this incredible man who was willing to catch me, over and over again, no matter how many times I stumbled.”

Y/n’s voice broke slightly as she spoke her next words, her tears flowing freely now.

“I’ve always been scared of letting go, of giving myself over to someone completely. But with you, it doesn’t feel like falling. It feels like flying. Like coming home.”

Y/n took a moment to steady herself before she added, with a smile through her tears.

“Lewis, I’m all in. My husband, my partner, my leap of faith, you’re the one I choose, every day and in every way.”

Y/n wiped at the corner of her eye as she finished, giving Lewis’s hands that extra squeeze.

“So here’s to us, to our forever. I can’t promise I won’t drive you crazy, or that I’ll ever stop being a little bit of a mess, but I can promise to love you fiercely, endlessly, and with everything I have. Thank you for being my anchor, my safe place, and most importantly, for being you.

There was a pause as she took a last breath, her eyes never leaving his, her smile bright on her features.

"Okay, enough with the mushy stuff. Cheers—to love, to learning how to fly, to taking the leap."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[thoughtsonkm]

Coupley vibes restored?!

(and all it was needed was jimin feeling better again, more jikook alone time and slower editing ffs)

The 'watch out' sign behind them had me screaming 😆

Why is the afterwards of this scene so funny tho? One is running away for dear life, the other facing the sea. DEAD.

It's so funny how they try to conceal all the hugs, cuddles etc. with the pretense roughhousing and all the "kekekeke" - do what you gotta do jikook, it's fine babes

And with this I think we should put every discussion to rest right? 2 weeks of the same battles is enough. Both parties are conscious and fine with what happened. The trio episodes are fun. Move on.

On another note I've never seen them enjoy the food as much as they did in the omakase. The foodgasm was on another level. Outer body experience typa thing. Damn.

~

THE WAY Jimin adores the sight of Kook riding the bike 🥹🥹 (other than the fact that he looks so cool, I'm sure he also loves how much Jk enjoys his new passion)

~

JIMIN ACCEPT THE BABYS COMPLIMENTS!! HE'S BEEN TRYING TO RIZZ IT UP IN TWO DIFFERENT CONTINENTS ALREADY!!

Jungkook saying whatever and just making sounds and his eyes going left and right when Jimin started undressing. FUNNY

Give Jikook an open window pool and they'll give you a masterclass in entertainment 🕺

~

Shower together? idk about that

Ramyeon innuendo? idk about that

Jk warning Jm about doing smth incriminating? idk about that

But the bottom line stays always the same: They know each other so well AND they enjoy each other so well!

~

In my mind Jk's mom and Jimin are besties and you cannot convince me otherwise. I mean son in law Jimin is the bestest boy ever im so sure

If they weren't filming Kook's mom would've been like: Don't even think of coming if you're not gonna bring Jimin with you (JOKING)

Thank you for yet another iconic meme, king

A little (BIG) treat at the end cause such hotness has never been witnessed before:

PPEURIRI~~

[hitomisuzuya]

Hello! I've been lurking around for a while and I really enjoy how you write Scaramouche/Wanderer! If it's not much to request, how do you think the Wanderer would comfort fem! Reader who's quite emotionally sensitive and gets hurt by his rude/sarcastic manner of speech? I hate that sometimes, I don't feel like I deserve to self-ship with this character because I'm like: goddamn, Scara, it literally wouldn't cost you your life to be a little compassionate and humble🥹🥹

Wanderer x fem!reader. Comfort fluffy fluff fluff.

Trust me, I feel you. I really do🥺

Wanderer had no filter. Not with anyone, or with you. He knew he really should with you. Usually, you would know exactly what he meant, you were that patient with him.

But sometimes, it got to be too much. The insensitive comment from him this time being, "What use do I for have hobbies, much less hearing about yours."

At first, Wanderer didn't know what to do. He would freeze in place, his eyes a little wide. The second he saw tears well into your eyes, there was look in his that was rarely there: fear.

Making you cry was on his list of things he should never ever do.

"That was such a mean thing to say, Scara," You brushed some tears away that fell from your eyes, "you don't have to rub it in that I am a boring person."

...Shit.

When you turned away from him so that he wouldn't see you cry, Wanderer didn't stop you right away. He knew you didn't want him to see you cry and he didn't want to see it either. After a few moments, which he spent internally kicking himself, he put a hand on your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you.

He pulled you back against his chest. "I'm a jerk, I know," He murmured into your hair.

"You are. You really are," You leaned back into him, making Wanderer visibly relax. You didn't sound mad, nor did it sound like you were crying all that much anymore.

In other words, he knew he was on the right track.

Wanderer was sarcastic, egoistical, greedy, and self centered. But most importantly, he was brutally honest. It was because of this attitude that you could tell he was sincere when he said things like this, especially when followed up with what he said next.

"...I'm sorry," It was said barely above a whisper, but you'd heard it.

You let out a soft squeak of surprise when he scooped you up bridal style in his arms. "Let's go to bed now, I've woren you out enough for one day," He set you down on the bed, pulled the blankets over both you, and held you close to his chest.

His fingers stroked soothingly through your hair. You sighed contently, curling into him as you settled into his arms. Despite the fact that you'd forgiven him, you kind of wanted to hear him say how much of a jerk he was again.

He needed to do that sometimes.

After making sure you fell asleep first, Wanderer decided to sleep as well. Sleep was a luxury that he could chose to indulge in if he wanted. This act also showed how much he loved and trusted you.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

happy birthday, love

pairing: bang chan x afab!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 2.0k

warning/s: talk about insecurities and feeling unworthy of love, kinda corny me thinks, not proofread

a/n: i'm soft for him fr🥹🤍 i'm not completely satisfied with this but it's been in my drafts for weeks and it's my birthday soon so this is a little self-indulgent... hope you enjoy.🫶🏻

~check out my: Masterlist

You were never really big on celebrating your birthday. Many people made it seem like it was something so important, so grand when in fact it was just a day like any other. At least, that's how you always viewed it.

You always felt weird receiving gifts and special attention. It made you want to disappear. And it didn't help that every birthday you felt very melancholic, and you don't even know why. Often times, that melancholy would result in overthinking, feeling abandoned and then ofcourse - crying. It wasn't your birthday until you've had a little cry session in your bed.

Maybe it was because of those people who made it look like something worth anticipating, and when the day actually comes - nothing special happens. The world doesn't stop, the sun doesn't shine brighter, the flowers don't look prettier. Nobody and nothing cares. The Earth keeps spinning like it's none of her business.

That's what you told your boyfriend Chan too. You'd only been dating for 8 months but he wasn't afraid to shower you with affection, and you felt bad for not being so out there with your feelings like he is. You felt embarassed enough every time he got you a surprise present just because he thought of you. He knows you struggle with showing your feelings, much less talking openly about them but you really do love him and you are willing to do whatever's in your power to show him that you love him as much as he loves you.

Maybe through a warm meal you prepare for him when he's done with work, maybe with a shoulder to lean on when he's having a tough time, maybe with some good-hearted advice when he needs it, maybe with your embrace when he craves comfort... Maybe with your kisses, slow and intense, passionate and loving, wet and deep.

And you're sure he's the type to throw you a whole ass surprise party, make a grand gesture, buy you many gifts and that's why you begged him before your first birthday together not to do any of that.

Chan respects that, he only fears that you're pushing away his gestures because somewhere deep inside you feel undeserving of them. But he also wants to give you time to think and work through your problems, ofcourse leaning on him whenever you need to. He's always there in a blink of an eye for you.

It's hard for him to hold it in, his desire to shower you in gifts and affection but he doesn't want to seem too overbearing. It's not like he wants to buy your love, he just can't help himself when he sees something cute that reminds him of you, or something he knows you'd like or even something you two can share like a couple item.

He tries not to rush anything cause it took you a long time to even open up to him, he accepts your differences and definitely doesn't want you to change for him. He just wants you to know you deserve to be pampered, loved and gifted.

Chan thinks hard what he could do for your birthday to make it special, but also that it's nothing too grand or crazy at the same time. He knows you hate surprise parties so he crosses those off the list. He tosses and turns in bed, trying not to wake you when suddenly there's a lightbulb above his head.

-

It's just another Friday. Well, coupled with the fact that it's your birthday and your sweet boyfriend is the first to congratulate you as soon as you open your eyes.

"Happy birthday, love."- he whispers sweetly, his lips pouty and eyes shining as they look at you with so much admiration.

Him by himself was a good enough gift for you, perfect even and you lean in to kiss him as he wraps his arms around you tightly.

"No surprises, okay? I mean it, mister!"- you poke his chest as you part from each other.

"Yes ma'am!"- he smirks mischievously at you as he plays with your hair.

"You're planning something, aren't you?"- you squint your eyes at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."- he moves away to stretch his arms and you sit up.

"Don't joke around, Chan. I told you I don't want any grand gestures."- you say.

"Who said anything about anything grand? Come on, let me make you breakfast, hm? That's not considered grand is it?"- he smirks and pinches your cheek. You swat his hand away whining in fake annoyance at your silly boyfriend.

You could do with breakfast before another stressful day at work.

-

You're tired, begging for the day to end already and you can't stop thinking about dinner and a nice warm bubble bath when you come home. Maybe even a comfort movie and cuddles with your boyfriend under the blankets.

"Channie, I'm home!"- you yell from the door.

"In the kitchen!"- he yells back, a little too eagerly and your brows furrow in suspicion. Your heart starts thumping in your chest as you walk towards the sound of his voice.

When you enter, you're greeted with a smiling Chan standing next to a table full of food, candles and flowers in the middle.

"What's all this?"- you swallow, your chest tightening.

"Dinner for my birthday girl."- he smiles, coming towards you, his hands gently grabbing yours.

"Ugh, don't call me that. But fine, I'm hungry anyways."- you say and let him lead you to the table.

"M'lady."- he pulls your chair out and you giggle at his antics.

"You made all this for me?"- you ask, looking around the table.

"Yeah, ofcourse."- he looks at you so lovingly that your heart flutters.

"Oh, Channie. You really are too sweet. Thank you."- you say. Even though you hate your birthday, Chan didn't do anything grand just like you asked and you appreciate the work he put into cooking dinner and how mindful he was of your wishes. It makes you appreciate him even more.

"It was my pleasure, trust me love."- he smiles at you and you almost melt into a puddle.

You can see how much effort your wonderful boyfriend put into dinner, making all of your favorites and making them extra tasty, like he spiced it all up with the love he has for you.

"Chan, this is amazing! I didn't know you could cook this well. I don't mean that you're a bad cook!"- you panic, frantically waving your hands around. "This is just different."

"It's okay."- Chan chuckles. "I actually called Minho for advice."- he admits sheepishly, cheeks becoming rosy.

"Oh... Did he tease you?"- you chuckle.

"He teased the hell out of me."- Chan shakes his head, a little laugh escaping his lips.

"Well, we both know he would do the same for his significant other no matter how unbothered he acts."- you say, getting up to get rid of the empty plates.

"Oh no no, you sit down. I will get the plates."- Chan is on his feet immediately.

"Baby, it's really no problem."- you say but he snatches the plates out of your hands.

"Please, sit down."- he pouts a little and well you can't say no to that face.

"Close your eyes."- he adds after he places the dishes in the sink.

"Chan, no... I told you I don't want any surprises! Nothing too crazy..."- you shake your head.

"It's not crazy. Just humor me, okay?"- he says.

"Fine."- you roll your eyes in fake annoyance and then close them, a little smile of anticipation on your lips.

You hear shuffling, then feel Chan's presence closer as he puts something in front of you on the table.

"Open them."- he whispers, closer to you than you think he was.

You brace yourself and open your eyes.

"Is that a cake?"- your eyes widden.

"Yes, it's a cake, love."- Chan chuckles at your cute reaction. "I baked it for you."- he adds proudly.

"You baked me a cake?"- you melt again.

"Lix helped with that but yeah. You said nothing grand... even though I would buy you anything you ask for. But I just wanted to do something for you. Especially after a hard day's work."

Your eyes water suddenly, vision blurred and Chan gasps.

"Baby?! Are you crying?"- he panics, leaning down to take a look at your face, his arm wrapping around your shoulder.

You don't know what made you sob this hard, but you can't even speak, tears flowing down your cheeks and sobs leaving your lips.

Chan doesn't know what happened or if he did something wrong but he wraps his arms around you instinctively, pulling you into a hug. Anxiety washes over him as he rewinds what he said or did to make you so upset. You clutch at his shirt, burying your face in his neck, finding comfort in his warmth.

"I'm sorry."- you lean back after some time, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. Chan shakes his head as he hands you tissues.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You know I'm here for you. I just... wanna know if I did something wrong."- he says, biting on his lip nervously.

"No, no way. You're perfect, Chan. It's me... You go and do all this for me and I feel like an ungrateful bitch crying over nothing. I feel like you deserve someone better, someone who can treat you the way you should be treated. At this point, I don't even know why you're still wasting your time on me."- you spill your deepest feelings out, fearing that Chan will agree with you and you'd be left with nothing then. You barely look into his eyes and he looks hurt.

Why did you have to say that? You should've kept your mouth shut.

"H-how can you say something like that?"- Chan's voice wavers. "Don't you see how wonderful you are? How good you are to me? You may not say stuff outright like I do, but I see that you care for me in all the little things you do. You're always there for me, you cheer me up and believe in me even if I don't believe in myself. You understand me like no one ever did before. Sometimes even without words. You always think of me even when I forget about myself."- he talks, and fresh tears start sliding down your cheeks.

Your chest feels tight, and you blame yourself for upsetting your boyfriend, who has nothing but good thoughts about you.

"And I know we haven't been together for that long. But ever since the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one."

"Don't exaggerate."- you hiccup, trying to move away but his arms tighten around you.

"Don't you feel the same?"- he asks quietly and you look at him.

The puppy eye look kills you and you can't help the small smile spreading on your face.

"Ofcourse I do. I love you with all my heart, Chan. I just didn't think you love me so much. And it's really nothing you ever said or did, so don't think it's your fault. It's the stupid inner voice inside my head, telling me I'm unworthy. And whenever my birthday comes around, the feeling amplifies. I keep checking my messages and waiting for people to congratulate me. I cry if I think one person forgot my birthday. And then I feel like no one cares and that I'm all alone. I know it's dumb and it's not true but I can't help how I feel."- you explain.

"Do you feel alone now?"- he asks, cupping your cheek with his hand, his thumb swiping at the tears sliding down.

"No."- you whisper, your eyes fluttering as you lean into his touch.

"Then my plan was successful."- Chan smiles, leaning in closer to you.

"I knew you had something up your sleeve this morning."- you smirk, the sadness inside you slowly fading away.

"See, you know me so well."- Chan says and you giggle, your lips meeting his in a gentle kiss, the love he feels for you pouring from his lips to yours.

"I guess I do."- you smile as you part.

"Technically it's not midnight yet so it's still your birthday."- he starts.

"What did you cook up now?"- you ask and he chuckles.

"How about I prepare you a nice warm bath?"- Chan asks.

"Only if you'll join me."- you smirk.

"I think that can be arranged."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg

[periprose]

Playstation Spidey is sooo blorbo- I love himmm. May I request something where Pete and Reader have been too preoccupied with studying and taking exams all week that when their date arrives on Saturday, they don't do anything but makeout instead cause they miss each other so much?🥲 (I just wish I had a Peter Parker to kiss😔)

I love him too and this idea is just 🤌🤌. I hope it's okay I made this a friends to lovers instead? :)

Your phone buzzes with a new message from Peter.

Peter: hey we still good for Saturday? the study date at the library?

Peter: sorry for not picking up earlier. Phys 403 is kicking my ass 🥹

You giggle to yourself. Peter had been so excited to see you this week- he was terribly busy with internships and FEAST and every single exam that was assigned this week.

You had half the workload he did, and you struggled to finish things, so you had no idea how he did it. It was quite irritating, not being able to catch up with Peter as often as you'd like, but you were hanging on for Saturday.

Even now- he strangely missed your calls and would usually pick up ASAP- and May's told you he's not at FEAST, so it's really confusing to you where he'd be. But you're not concerned, because you have exams to study for.

You: Yea we're still good pete

You: don't stress about it. worry about your exam

Peter: 🫡 will do ma'am

You laugh, picturing Peter saluting to himself.

/

The timer for your Shakespeare exam just rings as you hand it in to your professor, who gives you a firm, steely nod. You know how strict he is- he doesn't always allow for students to hand in things after the time's up, and even as you leave the classroom, you hear students pleading with him to let them hand in their exams.

You shrug to yourself, and turn the corner of one of the many hallways of Empire State University- bumping straight into Peter.

"Oh-!" You topple over, and although at your trajectory in the air you should've fallen over Peter, he somehow has enough strength to keep you upright in the air, holding you gently by the waist, and before you can think too much about his surprisingly strong capabilities, he's set you down again already.

"All good?" Peter asks, and you nod bashfully.

"Yeah. Just finished my Shakespeare exam. Not sure if I did all that well." You tell him, and Peter raises his eyebrows.

"With Strict Dr. Powell, huh?" Peter gives a wary glance past your shoulder, and then leans in extra close, seemingly not noticing how you fail to maintain eye contact. "Just between you and me, I'm pretty sure he's not actually tenured."

"What?" You stare up at him in surprise. "How else would he be qualified to teach a fourth year English course?"

"Well, let's just say I did a little sleuthing after getting a C- on my last essay. I know, I know what you're going to say-" Peter shushes you as you laugh, taunting him about an unusually low grade. "It was on Asimov, you know? Father of Science Fiction?"

"I think that was H.G. Wells, Pete."

"Right, whatever." But Peter's features bristle with that familiar fondness for you, and you smile softly at him as he continues. "I knew even if my essay wasn't perfect, a C- was really lowballing what it should've been. So I searched some of the school records, and he's actually named Powalski. ESU's letting him stay tenured even though he's only been a professor for five years. My guess is that they owe him some kind of favour."

"And that's why our poor student body has to worry about failing English classes this year, when they should be easy. Because of one crazy professor." You surmise, and Peter nods. "Still, I can't believe you went through the school records! How did you even access them?"

"Uhhhh..." Peter shrugs as he starts backing away, a slightly flustered look on his face. "Parker luck?"

"Peter, I thought that was supposed to mean bad luck." You retort, laughing over his antics.

"Yeah, I never said I wasn't in hot water for doing that." Peter jokes, and he flashes a peace sign at you. "I gotta head to my Physics exam. Talk to you later?"

Before you can respond, Peter suddenly squeezes your shoulder in a quick move, and he takes a moment, staring at your face, and your mouth, before dashing off. "I'm sure you did great on your exam, regardless!"

"Thanks." You're left with a sheepish smile that you shake off your face when Peter's far in the distance, unaware that he's got the same expression on his face.

/

Peter's kind of struggling a little bit with physics.

Sure, he's a total brainiac, and he's sure to ace it even with his current mood- he's just terribly distracted.

You smelt really good today. Like warm, vanilla-cinnamon goodness. Peter's heightened senses tell him you've got a new perfume.

But he's more focusing on your lips for some reason. Ugh, no. Peter knows why he focuses so much on your lips- you just happen to smile in the cutest, sweetest way.

And just now- you had laughed in the funniest way, your lips curling into a pout that Peter was sure was seared into his mind for good.

Oh, no. I'm a total goner. He gets back to his exam, ignoring this urge to kiss you.

/

There's a knock at your apartment door just as you're finishing tidying up. Your living room tends to be pretty ugly, and the last thing you want is for Peter to think you're a slob.

Peter calls your name through the door. "I'm not going to think you're anymore messy than I am. Stop cleaning! We gotta leave soon if we want to make it for our allotted study room time, and I just need to use the bathroom."

You shake your head, give yourself one last glance in the mirror, and then open the door.

"Finally. God, dude, you would think your apartment is a pigsty or something. I'm only going to be in here for five minutes." Peter jokes. "You would hate to see mine."

"Is that why you've never invited me there?"

"Uh, yeah. Otherwise you could crash whenever you wanted to there." Peter suddenly turns red. "I mean... you know, you're always tired after class and your apartment is further away from ESU than mine is."

"It's fine, Peter. No need for rambling." You reach forward, wanting to take the books out of his hands- you notice a slight scar on his palm. "Hey, what's that?"

"Ah, just an accident at Octavius' place. No big deal, it'll be gone before I know it." Peter randomly opens a door. "This the bathroom? No, it's a closet. Darn these misleading doors..."

"Down the hall, to the right, Peter."

He nods, and you suddenly feel a wave of giddy energy as he's gone. Yes, you've crushed on Peter for a while- you just don't think it's going to go anywhere since you're both so busy.

You're reapplying your lip balm when Peter wanders back to you a couple minutes later.

"Ah, should we go?" You say, slightly muffled as you continue reapplying. It's a delicious honeydew flavour- you can't help but eat your lip balm off your lips from time to time.

"Yeah..." Peter struggles to say something, anything, and you catch his eyes drifting from yours, to your lips.

"Is something wrong?" You look up at him uncertainly. "There wasn't enough toilet paper, was there?"

"Shoot. Might've used the last bit, sorry." Peter jokes, but he turns quiet, and he grows a little pink.

"Well, if that's all, let's get going." You put your lip balm back in your pocket, and move to get your coat out of the closet, but Peter grabs your arm with that too-quick motion he always seems to possess.

Peter wordlessly cradles your face- there's something echoing through his expression right now, affection, the kind, softness you've always known him to possess, but something else, too. Yearning.

You can't help but smile up slightly confused at him, not sure of his intentions, and while you're not stupid, you're not going to assume anything.

Peter doesn't hesitate and simply leans in and kisses you, a soft kiss that turns a lot more firm as you're pulled inwards by his hands, and you eagerly kiss him back, and you feel him grinning widely when he knows that you've wanted this as much as he had.

It's easy, it's always fun when it's with you, and he figures you both need stress relief anyways. Rather than studying chemistry in the library.

You reach upwards, and run your fingers through his brown, soft hair, and Peter groans ever so slightly against your mouth, which pleases you.

Suddenly he lets go, deeply red and looking a little woozy, but he still holds you close. "Sorry, I- I got a little carried away there."

"Don't be sorry. I wanted to do that too." You admit, a little shyly. "Are you okay with not studying?"

"Really? That's what's on your mind?" Peter looks genuinely a little aghast, even if he is joking. "I must've not kissed you hard enough."

Peter brings you to your couch, where you kiss him again, taking the lead in a way that makes his stomach flip-flop, not dissimilar to the way he feels when he free-falls off a building. You clamber onto his lap, trying to be gentle- and he pulls you down fully on him, wanting to feel every inch, every millimeter, even, against his body. There's an excited thump in his body for every squeeze he makes against you, and he feels his restraint leaving him when you suddenly sweep your tongue into his mouth.

Even when you leave room for air, Peter is insistent, reaching forward with more little kisses all over your cheek, and you reach back again for him, pressing your lips against his, feeling like there's no need to ruin this time with talking.

He really likes that. These are precious moments, few to be found considering how busy you both are, and Peter intends to make the most of it.

[yayll]

https://www.tumblr.com/yayll/759326311116308480/havent-slept-yet-but-just-as-i-was-about-to?source=share

Hi, this anon again😅 haven't slept yet again...it's 6 am🙃. I just love the idea that Dazai with all his godlike intelligence is the kind of guy to see immediately what troubles or struggles his significant other has with themselves or in general.

If you have trauma he will immediately catch on, self esteem issues? Immediately caught on, mommy or daddy issues? People pleaser? He knows it, and many other things, he will immediately figure it out as you both date.

He'll probably even do little things that you'd think he doesn't understand how much it means to you, like validating you, making sure you always have a specific comfort of yours at hand, you'd think he just does it because he saw that you liked it, but it was because he knew what it would do for you, what it makes you feel.

Dazai sees you and he doesn't just see your traumas and things you struggle with of course, he first sees someone he loves unconditionally. Dazai knows you love him with all your heart especially after knowing about his past.

Dazai will tell if you're sensitive, if you're uncomfortable with loud noises, if you get emotional about a lot of things, if you're lonely around people, if you're masking your real personality around other people, if you've only heard criticism instead of any praise, if you've been undermined and seen as a second choice, Dazai will know.

And he will show you from the moment he picks up on everything, that you're never gonna feel like that again as long as he's there, and he will always be there. He will validate everything you always wanted to be validated. Dazai from the Port to ADA is very much "gun is love, gun is life" to "what is gun, what is this metal thing that can hurt another human being!?" An exaggeration of course but that's how he probably would be even though he's joking, but the second someone tried to mess with you, suddenly every training he had in the Port comes back and he's immediately shown to be this incredibly intimidating and ruthless man to anyone who tries hurt you.

Have a beautiful forever Hun💖🥺 I know you said in the last message you've had a rough time and I genuinely hope you're doing better 🥺💖 a reminder that you're so amazing and you deserve the best, you deserve to be happy and i wish you the uttermost happiness and love and good health, you're still so incredibly young, you have so much time to accomplish everything or anything you want, you're doing well, get some sun, hydrate yourself, sleep the best you can(because I know sometimes we don't always get enough sleep) and eat well💖🥺

I'll leave these emojis for now so you'll know it's me next time😅

- 🥺💖

HELLOOOOO my sweet 🥹💖

i'm so sorry i have such a late reply! i've been working on some writing and also quite literally irl so i'm just trying to catch up. you are amazing and i'm wishing u the best of health and happiness right back :') love is all we rlly have in this world. things are a lot better lately on my end and i hope you've been able to sleep comfortably even if it takes u a while! MWAH.

and also. i just rlly wanted to indulge those lil things you said about dazai because they are sooooooooo true. sooooo fucking valid. GUN IS LOVE GUN IS LIFE TOOK ME OUTTTT LMAO i actually love the way u talk abt dazai's highly intuitive side, it's quite literally what makes him so compelling as is. and in a relationship/partnership? oh it's a goddamn dream. he's like a hawk watching and registering your every mood fluctuation and the cause of it, tryinf to see how he can rectify it immediately. and i also FIRMLY believe he will use any and all past PM training to facilitate ur happiness should he ever need to. he'll be like:

"Hey, take five. You've been at it for hours now and frankly, it's boring watching you work."

"I can't, I'm so behind on reports and I'm helping out with the agency holiday party, I also need to-"

Dazai's eyes narrow, and shakes his head rapidly. Mission accepted, he thinks. He knows what you need, and if you won't cater to your needs, he'll have to just do it himself. He lives to see you at ease, because you deserve the entire world. You will not, under any circumstances, be stressed under his watchful eye... And he also just really wants an excuse to cuddle later without having to hear about dumb things like work. It's a win-win, and you don't have a choice! He sighs, and puts on his little performance.

".. You expect me, the great Osamu Dazai, to simply watch as I witness my favorite detective work themself to the bone?! Absolutely not! I refuse. Come, we're going to the cafe downstairs."

You groan as he pulls you, smiling in reluctance.

"Dazaiiii, i'm serious.. plus, don't you have like, a huge running tab there?"

He flashes you a sly smirk and a wink.

"That's why I have you, silly! Your philanthropic and generous heart is willing to treat me as your penance for being so stubborn. How noble of you. You really shouldn't have."

You roll your eyes, sighing deeply as you zoom out of the agency with him.

"The waitress there wants to kill you, you know."

You mutter under your breath with a playful smile. Dazai gasps dramatically and looks back at you, still holding you by the arm, tighening just a smidge.

"Oh, goodness! I'm quaking. well thank god i'm bringing you, my precious little scapegoat~"

Despite your feigned annoyance, your cheeks redden, and it's hard not to become endeared with how relentless he is in his pursuits to distract you. what a slack off, you want to kiss his stupid face until he shuts up. You might just have to.

"You're the worst, Dazai."

"Mm, what a weird way to say 'I love you.' I'll take it."

this is a silly little thing, but basically overly observant and on the case Dazai he just NEEDS to make you the happiest whether you like it or not!

i love u, mwah :')

-ivy

[freedomfireflies]

It’s been a while since we checked in on Mr & Mrs Hey soul sister and their baby girl.

🥹🥹🥹 you're so right!!! THIS IS SUPER QUICK BUT THIS IS HOW THEY ARE!!! 😭💞

“Oh? Where’d she go? Where’d Layla go? Aaa! There she is!”

Layla laughs – a rather wet laugh – as her daddy disappears behind his hands only to pop back out with glee.

You smile from your spot on the sofa, watching your two favorite people in the entire world make each other giggle.

“I can’t believe she’s getting so big,” he muses, grinning wildly when she takes hold of his finger and refuses to let go.

“I know,” you agree, a melancholy ripple in your chest. “She’s already turning into a Mr. Hey Soul Sister 2.0.”

He smirks, glancing over her face. “Damn right she is. I knew she’d be a Daddy’s girl.”

“Well, she’s not the first,” you retort teasingly, to which he chuckles.

“Is that right?”

“Mhm.”

“Aw, now you’re gonna make me feel bad. Have I been neglecting my best girl?”

Your eyes roll but you can't help feeling slightly enamored. “Ha, ha. Very funny. All right, can you please take your daughter to bed now? I let her stay up an extra five minutes, but she’s gotta go down.”

Harry begins to pout, instantly pulling her from her mat to clutch her against his chest protectively. “Five more minutes.”

Laughing, you say, “Harry, come on—”

“Please,” he nearly whines, pressing his cheek to her forehead. “We’ll both be so good. Won’t make a peep and then we’ll go down.”

Your glare is playful. “You said that five minutes ago.”

“…yeah, well, now I mean it.”

“Harry!”

“What?”

Your head shakes. “Come on, we both know how grumpy she gets if she doesn’t get enough sleep.”

Feigning a wounded gasp, he holds her closer. “You take that back. She is a perfect angel, and she would never throw a hissy fit or chuck things at my head.”

“Be that as it may," you retort, although you can't help giggling at the memory, "she’s sleepy, and she needs to go down, all right? I know it hurts, but you can play with her tomorrow.”

Harry glances over to see Layla mid-yawn, and he smiles gleefully at the way her one bottom tooth shimmers from behind her lip. “All right, fine. What Mommy wants, Mommy gets.”

You smirk again at the nickname before he’s taking the small child toward her bedroom, disappearing into the darkness to tuck her into her crib.

And it's then that it hits you. This moment, this relationship. How happy you are to be in your home, with your husband, and your precious child. How a night of drunken mistakes has led you into the best chapter of your entire life.

How grateful you are to him for everything he's given you.

When Harry returns to the living room, this is how he finds you. With tears in your eyes that are mercilessly beginning to slip down your cheeks.

Instantly his expression drops, and he rushes forward, hand pressing to your jaw lovingly. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong? What happened?”

Sniffling, you press yourself into his palm. “I just…I love you. So much. And I love her. She’s so beautiful. And so are you. And I just...I feel so lucky. I'm so happy, H—”

He takes a seat beside you and quickly pulls you into his embrace, burying your face in his chest as he whispers, “I know. I know, baby. Me, too. M’so goddamn lucky to have you two in my life.”

You fist his shirt in the same way Layla does. “I love you, Har. So much.”

He presses his lips to the crown of your head. “I love you, darling. More than anything in the world.”

You smile softly, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as you indulge in his touch. And it's perfect, this moment.

“...even though you gave our daughter shit taste in music,” he adds, and you laugh as you lightly swat at him, now feeling much better.

“She has excellent taste," you argue. "She knows the difference between a good song and whatever the hell the music you listen to is.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“It is.”

“Sure, okay,” he snorts before taking a beat. “At least we know she likes Fleetwood Mac. Otherwise, that could have been a disaster.”

“Oh, we would have had to disown her.”

"Absolutely."

You both smile at the thought before he gently tilts your head back to meet your eye.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispers.

“Always.”

“…I’m starting to think Gimme, Gimme, Gimme is better than Dancing Queen.”

Gasping, you sit up. “Oh, yes. I knew it, I fucking knew it. See? Do you see?”

Harry laughs. "I already regret this—”

“You regret having good taste? Well, I guess that checks out.” You place yourself on his lap, knees on either side of his hips while he holds you steady. “You have made some questionable choices in your career.”

“Oh, have I?” His smile is smug as he looks up at you. 

“You have. And then you met me. You’re welcome.”

He laughs, and it’s so beautifully full of life. “I guess I never thanked you properly.”

“No. No you did not.”

He leans forward, lips just barely ghosting across yours until your breath hitches. “Then by all means...allow me to fix that.”

You can’t help the excitable tremor in your chest as you kiss your husband. The love of your life and the father of your beautiful baby girl. “Yeah?”

He smirks, arm looping around your back.

“Yeah.”

~ Mr. & Mrs. Hey Soul Sister pt. 1

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny

[heavyhitterheaux]

A fluffy request I can think of is something where jack tells reader ‘ur kisses taste like heaven’ 🥹🥹

Has a sprinkle of angst involved, but mostly fluff!

It was your first night at home after being released from the hospital and Jack had been on edge. He kept watching you like a hawk and barely left your side. The only time that you were able to have a moment to yourself was if you escaped to the bathroom for a few minutes. But all in all, you couldn't blame him.

You died in front of him twice and that had been his biggest wake up call. Knowing that at that point he was so close to losing you and losing you forever, he vowed to make sure every single day that the two of you had left on earth, he would make sure you knew how much he loved you.

The two of you had been downstairs for the majority of the day and when 10 PM rolled around, you found that your eyes were getting heavy and thought that making your way upstairs was probably a good idea.

As soon as you moved, Jack jumped up right behind you.

“Are you okay? You need anything?”

“No, babe. I'm okay, just getting a little tired. I just want to lay down.”

“Okay, I got the bed all ready for you.”

“Sounds good. I'll probably take a shower first.” You replied as you put your hair up into a ponytail.

“Should you be standing up that long? Do you need me to help you?”

Knowing that it would probably make Jack feel safer and you as well, you quickly agreed.

“Could you just sit in the bathroom with me so I won't be by myself?” You asked as you looked up at Jack and wrapped your arms around him.

“Of course, baby. Anything to keep you safe.”

As promised, Jack stayed with you the entire time in the bathroom as you took a quick shower. It felt good to be back in your own house and in your own bathroom with familiar territory surrounding you.

As you stepped out, he immediately handed you a towel and helped you dry off, making sure to pay close attention to your incision and making sure he was extra careful.

“Does it still hurt?” He quietly asked as he was slowly wiping away the water droplets surrounding it.

“Not as much anymore. They told me to take Tylenol if it does.”

After putting on lotion and Jack getting you a fresh set of pajamas, he helped you get settled in the bed before making his way to the other side and laying down next to you.

You immediately cuddled into him and he quickly embraced you and kissed the top of your head.

“You have no idea how much I missed this and missed you.” You quietly confessed as Jack rubbed small circles along your back.

“Right back at you.”

“It feels weird to have a somewhat flat stomach and no children in the house.”

“Soon enough, baby. They just need to get stronger and all three of them will be home before we know it.”

You started playing with Jack's beard and he simply closed his eyes as you two held onto each other.

Lifting your head, you lightly kissed him as he eagerly kissed you back. Jack cupped your face with his left hand and gave you a few more kisses before pulling away from you. He rested his forehead against yours as the two of you laid in a comfortable silence for a few moments.

“Your kisses taste like heaven.” You quietly said as a few tears slipped out and Jack was quick to kiss them away.

“I didn't know if I would ever be able to feel your lips against mine again. You know how much I love you and I'm sorry if I ever took you being my wife for granted.”

“Baby, I'm okay. Promise. They wouldn't have let me leave the hospital if I wasn't. And I love you more.” You told him because at this point, the both of you were in an upset state.

“I know but I'm still going to worry about you. I mean, you're my wife. How can I not?”

“But you know if it was left up to me that I wasn't going to leave you or them.”

“With your stubborn ass, I know.” Jack replied as you both laughed.

“I'll let that slide one time and one time only. But give me more kisses so I can sleep.”

Jack granted your wish as he gave you several more before you laid your head on his chest hoping to fall into a deep sleep.

Once Jack heard your breathing slow down, he still kept an eye on you making sure that you were okay.

He finally fell asleep around two in the morning, but was jolted back awake around four. Looking down and making sure you were okay, he slipped out from the bed and made his way into the bathroom splashing water on his face and peered in the mirror.

In a whispered breath, he muttered “fuck.”

His nightmares had returned.

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐘 ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

˖ ࣪⭑ pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc

˖ ࣪⭑ summary: it’s Nads’ first day on the paddock at the Miami Grand Prix!

˖ ࣪⭑ warnings: cussing, outfit descriptions, some seriously bad flirting, lots of name dropping

˖ ࣪⭑ wc: 6.7 k

˖ ࣪⭑ saint’s team radio: my babies, hi! i ain’t got no backstory, it’s just been tough to write lol. this chapter is my baby so i hope you all enjoy it 🥹. dedicating this to @httpsserene (twinnnnn) because she knows how much i back my man all the time lol. okay okay on with the story!

pls like, reblog and comment!!!

renaissance:the series • previous chapter

-

The sounds of the F1 cars and the noisy commentators went through Nadia's ears quite noisily. Fixing the position of her headphones, she held her phone horizontally as she watched through her husband's various wins throughout the years.

Her Tuesday was busy, well busily spent watching over previous races and anything related to the sport that Lewis was in. Nadia was determined to get onto the Miami paddock and not fuck up her first public appearance by not knowing anything about F1 and as much as she wanted to research a little bit more on Lewis, she decided against it, solely wanting him to tell her everything.

Her suitcases sat nicely next to her couch, the same couch that would be in her storage unit by the time she gets back from the states. Knowing that the weather that side would be ridiculously hot, she made sure to pack good outfits, enough to be Miami-approved along with all her good wigs.

It has been almost a week since she met Lewis' friends at his - their home and to think that she would be travelling the world with them so soon was not something she thought would happen. The next day, she spent it ogling at her screen on things to do in Miami. The rest of the weekend was dedicated to maintenance; wigs, nails, lashes, waxing with the occasional facetime sessions with Lewis just sharing all types of jokes to distract her from the prep.

Her phone rang in the middle of her binging Brazil 2021, showing a call from Natalia. "Hello?" Nadia answered.

"Nads, hey. I know we're literally going to be together tomorrow on the plane but i just wanted to check in to see if you're doing okay and if you're ready for Miami?" The ever so hyper girl asked excitedly.

"I've got my stuff ready and I think I'm clued up on the sport enough." Nadia's voice was clear yet soft, balancing her phone on the coffee table. "But are you wag ready?" Natalia asked, earning one of Nadia's infamous side eyes.

"Girl, what?"

"Nads, please don't tell me you don't know what that means." Natalia stressed as she ruffled around to sit up straight.

"Then you won't like my next answer." She smiled, standing up to go to the kitchen. "Oh my days, one of the most famous wags right now and she doesn't even know what it is." Natalia laughed, continuing with her explanation.

"So basically, it's a wife or girlfriend of an athlete. All you're gonna do when we get there is maybe make some friends with the other wags and just be his biggest supporter, even if it means we throwing hands." The girl laughed even louder, their laughter bounced off the walls.

"Now you're speaking. I think I'll be good as long as I have someone to guide me through it, y'know?" Nadia said, fidgeting with whatever is in front of her which in this case, was a fork.

For the umpteenth time in the last 3 weeks, Nadia was nervous about everything changing so quickly. This was her first public appearance as 'Mrs Hamilton' and knowing that she will have to face so many eyes on her was something she couldn't bear to think of.

"Here's my ting, Nads. You're not just the wife of any driver there, you're lawfully linked with the literal face of that sport. That man is beyond famous and keeping up with his life as his friend group is so exciting yet so fast paced so if you need anything, you got us. Genuine chats." Natalia smiled, watching her friend fiddle with the fork.

"I just need to keep up and plus Lew said if it gets too much, I can always just come back and chill at home which is something I will definitely do." Nadia said, picking up her phone.

"Exactly babes! Anyways, I'll pick you up later then we head to the airport together?" She offered. Nadia just nodded before posing in the kitchen. They wished each other their goodbyes and Nadia immediately got to work, sorting out her outfits for the third time.

-

The drive to the airport felt so surreal, the tiny droplets of rain sped down the car window as the music blared through Nadia's headphones. A sleeping Natalia layed across her lap, barely moving unless there was a slight bump on the road.

Preparing herself to go on a plane for the first time in 12 years , she breathed in and out and went very deep in her thoughts. The slight breeze of the air conditioner in the car raised hairs on her arms, definitely regretting putting her emergency hoodie in one of her suitcases and not in her carry on.

She had just decided to run on autopilot for the rest of the trip, every single thought of hers gnawing at her causing a headache to form. The feeling of constantly having eyes on her was overwhelming, every time she wants to run an errand or or go on with her maintenance day, she would always be stopped for a picture or even worse, have a camera following her around. She now understood why celebrities would always have their headphones on in public.

Heathrow Airport appeared in her vision, her hand immediately landing on Natalia's arm and shook her a bit so that she could wake up and prepare herself.

"We here yet?" The woman said, rubbing her eye and blinking quite quickly. All Nadia could do was nod and slightly smile at her friend who immediately felt Nadia's vibe. "Okay Nads, I don't know what your thoughts are chatting about but think about it like this: a cute little trip with new friends and experiencing new shit while looking good at the same time. I can feel your overthinking from here." Natalia said, cuddling into her friend.

"You know, you say some cute shit then you violate me after. Is this your thing?" Nadia chuckled as the driver drove towards the main entrance of the airport.

"Y'should hear the shit I say to Miles."

The process of getting checked in went incredibly smoothly, considering the girls met Tia when rolling their suitcases. It was all relatively easy as they were flying private, the jet waiting patiently for its passengers. The short drive in a different SUV to the jet had Nadia's stomach flutter as she took everything in. Stepping out the car to a very gloomy night sky, the crème white jet stood in all its glory and Nadia battled herself to not take pictures but she couldn't help it.

Nearing towards the steps with her carry-on, the flight attendants smiled with champagne flutes in their hands. "Welcome Miss Tia, Miss Natalia and Mrs Hamilton. I do hope you have a wonderful flight to Miami." One of the woman had greeted with a blinding smile.

Accepting the champagne although utterly creeped out, Nadia greeted everyone back and made her way into one of the most beautiful private jets she'd set her eyes on. Hermés blankets were placed on top of the seats, charcuterie boards were set and the night lights were on, referencing the stars in the night sky. Seeing how relaxed Tia and Natalia were, she took a deep breath and took a window seat.

Next to her were different types of chocolates and sweets, water bottles, sodas, spritzers along with champagne sat aesthetically all around her. Settling across from her, Tia whipped out her iPad and immediately got to work, hoping to talk to Nadia while she was still awake.

The two spoke on many different topics pertaining the marriage and Nadia's new found fame. "To summarise before we dive deep. I already opened up an Amex bank account for you because the money you'll make throughout all this is insane. You've got a lot of people to meet on Friday but I'll take you through everything on Thursday."

Nadia just listened to everything. "So while Lewis has a photoshoot tomorrow, we'll meet with your new team which by the way, have already prepared outfits for you for the coming weekends because i know you brought your own this week. Just remember, don't be too hard on yourself. I know it's a lot but you two can get through it. Oh, and you can finally open up your social media profiles." Tia smiled, closing the iPad with its cover and handing her a black card, mouthing that it already has money on it.

"Now we can sit back and relax for the rest of this 8 hour flight." Natalia said, eye mask already covering her eyes with a blanket enveloping her. The plane had already taken off during Tia speaking so she didn't have much to be nervous about in the moment.

-

MIAMI

Stepping off the jet steps, 4 bodyguards stood as Nadia's sight immediately went to the three large escalades, reminding her of how a president would be transported. Greeting everyone a very tired good morning, she spotted Lewis climbing out one of the cars along with Miles. A smile appeared on her face as she saw them, the nerves being pushed away at the sight of people she recognised.

"How was your flight, bruv? Got some coffee to wake you up." Lewis said with a smile, putting her suitcases in the car, his sweater sleeves lifted and showed his tattooed arms flexing as he lifted them.

She knew it was too early into the friendship to be having such thoughts but she couldn't help but feel some way about him as she watched him and he glowed in the morning sun, laughing at a joke Miles had said. Not to mention how her heart fluttered knowing he got her coffee although he himself doesn't like the hot drink.

"Nads?" He called to her, seeing her in a dazed state but quickly snap back to it. "It was great, Tia distracted me from the flight takin' off so that's a plus. Had one too many croissants and before I forget, I got us something that I hope you'll like." She said, climbing into the open car door and put her tote bag next to her.

On the way to the hotel, the two played some Raye while making jokes and talking about the rest of the weekend, assuring Nadia that if she wasn't comfortable going to all these events that she could stay back at the hotel. All she knew was that she was definitely going to watch him play some basketball the next day.

"And the pants are pink? Like your trousers are hot pink?" She asked the man as they drove through Miami, oblivious to the copious amounts of billboards with his face on it be it about Formula 1 or IWC, the watch brand that he was ambassador for. "And I was told to show you my outfits for the whole weekend for your first well, second public appearance." He said, sitting comfortably on his seat, playing around with his phone but not using it.

"That's very kind of whoever told you that. Before I regret my gift, do you wear grills? Or tooth jewellery in general?" Nads asked, unconsciously holding onto her tote bag.

"Are you about to say what i think you're about to say?" Lewis asked, turning his whole body towards her. "Do you know how hard it was having to describe your teeth to the person who made them? Anyways, I thought we could wear the grills the same day as like a statement, y'know?" She said, taking out two cases with the same branding.

"That's a great idea, I truly love it and these grills, man. Might build a mini collection." Lewis sounded impressed, bringing the jewellery closer to really look at it then looked at Nadia with a feeling that he was struggling to decipher but he get genuine appreciation towards her.

"Thank you pookie bear for these, i'll cherish it forever." He smiled, his eye wrinkles prominent.

"Oh my days, you said it." She covered her mouth with both hands, the ring shining as the rays of the morning sun hit it.

"What? Pookie bear?"

"Yeah, you barely say it! Oh my days, say it again so i can record it." Nadia said, bringing her phone out, making Lewis laugh so hard as they drove to the hotel.

-

Thursday afternoon could not come fast enough with Nadia standing in the large hotel bathroom, scratching her bald cap as she stared at the two wigs in front of her. The one was a light pink, wanting to support Lewis in pink and the other was black, very neutral but was quite long.

Her outfit was laid out on the bed, consisting of a denim mini skirt with pink low cut nikes, her reflective diesel bag that she received the night before and a dark gray tee with Baby Lewis on it. For Nadia, this outfit was quite simple as she liked to branch her style out, no matter how bold it might be.

The memories of the night before started to flow through, smiling by herself. When the crew had come back from dinner in the ever so luxurious hotel restaurant, she came back to all types of gifts on her bed, a note from Lewis reading 'for your first grand prix' with a heart next to it.

New Van Cleef and Arpels bracelets as she jokingly requested, the Diesel bag she would be sporting at the IWC event, two Dior saddles bags and two new pairs of sneakers that she had yet to open. The tears that were in her eyes dropped down her face as she opened her gifts, texting a sleeping Lewis a selfie with all her presents.

"Okay girl, let's do the black wig because the shoes and bag are already pink." Nadia decided, her voice echoing as she spoke to herself in the spacious bathroom. Putting some music on, she continued getting ready whilst waiting for Lewis to pick her up as he's coming from the track.

As if someone heard her thoughts, she heard a knock on the door followed with the wood creaking beside it and she instantly knew it was Lewis. Opening the door with a smile on her face, she saw him with the same beaming smile as she displayed. It looked as if he already changed his outfit from this morning, keeping up with his activities on social media.

"Well good afternoon sir." Nadia greeted as she walked back into the room to grab her handbag, phone and sunglasses, walking out as soon as she got everything with her.

Now, Lewis was someone who would subtly blush at the slightest compliment he would receive or whenever anyone mentioned that they liked his outfit, he would be grateful then brush it off with one of his smiles. However, hearing his assigned title come from the lips of his wife - new friend and not to mention her wearing his t shirt, made his chest warm. Same feeling he got whenever he would gift her anything and just see her smile.

There are just friends who just so happen to be married.

"Hi Nads. I'm loving the shirt by the way." He complimented, watching her lock up her room and place the key card in her bag. "Oh thanks, some guy i'm married to gave it to me. Do you think this kid is a legend now?" Nadia joked as they both walked to the elevator, relieved to have no one inside.

"I heard he's this really cool driver. Also props to that random dude who gave you the tee, super stylish and amazing." Lewis spoke as he leaned on the railing of the elevator.

"Okay not too much now." Nadia scoffed, followed up with a giggle.

Upon arriving at the place, it was truly crowded with fans and many camera crews all facing an incredibly large billboard with Lewis' face on it, his arm showing off the expensive watch. Majority of those involved in the event were wearing pink and many of the fans standing outside had a mixture of colours, including neon yellow and purple.

As their Escalade rolled up to the main entrance of the event, the cheers were heard from all around the car. Playing with her hair nervously, Lewis watched as he was getting ready to get out the car. "D'you mind if I hold your hand? Just noticed you were nervous." He voiced, seeing her snap out of her mind.

Looking down at his large open hand, Nadia didn't think twice about grabbing onto it and holding it tightly. As he stepped out of the car, the screams became louder as he waved to everyone with his other hand whilst Nadia scooched out with the car step helping her. As if the screams and cheers couldn't get any louder, her foot touched the ground and people were shouting out all types of things.

Although Nadia was nervous, she felt Lewis squeeze her hand and prompt her to look at him, his eyes more comforting than anything. Shooting a quick smile and wink at him, she went back to greeting everyone clawing for attention. He stood for a moment, in awe of her instant switch from what he saw in the car. Remembering where he was, he too snapped up and walked towards fans to sign stuff.

About an hour into the event, Nadia sat and cheered underneath the VIP section of it all. Starstruck event workers stood close to her, offering anything she would want from the stalls all around. With a pink lemonade in her hand, she watched Lewis play basketball with the widest smile on his face as he dribbled the ball and put the ball through the next.

To get better sight of her hunk of a husband, she sat closer to the kids who too watched in awe of everything and it isn't hard to believe that she began playing some hand games with them while workers were busy. While Lewis stood to the side of the game, he watched as Nadia interacted with the kids sitting on chairs clearly made for children but it was the pure joy she radiated that struck him the most.

Digging his phone out of one of his many pockets on his hot pink pants, he snapped a few photos of her surrounded with kids and he was very sure that the many camera crews also captured the adorable moment. Looking up, Nadia locked eyes with Lewis from across the court, waving excitedly which prompted the kids to wave as well.

After a while, Lewis was asked to do an interview and one of the questions were where else he would like to race and to get a reaction out, he uttered the words "I would like to race in South Africa, my wife's home country and definitely because it would be an amazing track." Little did he know that that clip would send the internet into a frenzy.

-

SATURDAY

Ultimately deciding to show face in the paddock on Qualifying Day and definitely ruining Tia's master plan, Nadia placed her earrings on before taking pictures of herself in the mirror for her to post later on in the day.

Fixing her top a little, she held onto it while looking for the small case that held her grillz and finding them on the nightstand, securely placing them on her teeth. She quickly switched her heels for sneakers knowing that she would be walking around the whole day.

Her mood was all over the place from the moment she woke up. She knew going into another deep dive was going to affect how she would be with everyone she was supposed to meet but she did so in the late evening after the day she had. She hadn't fully memorised names but she could identify them in an instant if anyone were to show pictures of F1 drivers.

Natalia, Miles, Charlotte and Spinz had already left earlier on, leaving Nadia and Lewis to get to the track together as planned. The knock resonated through the door, signaling that Lewis was here to pick her up. Grabbing everything she needed including the paddock passes, she got to the door with a slight scowl on her face.

"Woah, you're blonde now." Lewis pointed out, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pants pockets. His red sunglasses matched the parts of red on his Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirt with his blue sneakers matching the blue parts. He flashed his smile, showing off his grillz.

"That FIA president better watch his mouth when it comes to you, talking some bullshit so early in the morning." She warned, locking the door with her key card once more and she placed her all black sunglasses on.

"Nads, wait. What's going on?" Lewis stood there. "Went on a deep dive last night and developed a deep resentment towards the higher ups of the sport." She said, shrugging her shoulders then leading the way towards the elevator.

As confused as he was, Lewis walked quick to catch up with her as she walked closer and closer to the elevator.

"And before you say anything peace instilling, I'm not going to beat anybody up...yet." Nadia said, crossing her arms as she stood next to Lewis in the large metal box. "..You look really nice today." Lewis chose his words carefully, not used to seeing her in this mood.

"So do you, very chilled out. Well, until you smile then you'll send those geezers into a heart attack." She snickered, showing the matching grillz. "I think they'll be fine. They saw a glimpse of my stomach yesterday and told me I looked like Magic Mike." He said, laughing at the ridiculous comments he heard yesterday.

"Not them comparing you to an unsexy white man?" She jokingly said, with them falling into a fit of giggles. "I know this is going to sound out of pocket but did you know that your arms look very bite-able? Like I could just take a munch out of them."

"Nadia, what the fuck?"

-

It was evidently clear that this was a huge weekend for Miami, thousands of fans walking the streets in merchandise from their favourite teams or drivers.

The motorcade they were riding in could be compared to being presidential, people cheering whenever it drove by and getting out of windows to cheer at the red lights. Reaching the Hard Rock stadium, it shocked Nadia to see how many people were in attendance with probably thousands more already welcomed in. With the touch of a button, Lewis' window went down as he greeted everyone with a wave and a smile, gaining a positive reaction from everyone.

Eventually slowing down within the private parking, the pretend couple climbed out the car with Lewis opening the car door for Nadia. Waving to the crowd with him made Nadia feel slightly overwhelmed, noticing how the crowd grew even more when he appeared.

Leaning down a little to whisper into her ear, "You can be with me for now then we can walk in together." Lewis' breath tickling her ear, fighting a shy smile towards the man. Walking with him to his supporters or literally anyone who shoved anything in his direction, Nadia took out her phone to capture this moment and how loved he truly was.

A few fans were signaling to her to sign some stuff and for pictures, surprising her at the excitement of the fans. Leaning over to sign stuff, she received a few friendship bracelets, a few gifts that she handed over to security and some many compliments that her cheeks were starting to hurt.

"Bye everyone!" She exclaimed, signaled to finish up and head into the paddock. The crowd responded and she felt a large hand intertwine with hers, relieved to see that it was Lewis'. Cameras had begun to follow them, her hand squeezing his in nervousness. Reaching the official entrance of the paddock, he stepped back to let her sign in first then he did afterwards.

Flipping her blonde hair and fixing her sunglasses, their hands intertwined once again as they began to walk down the incredibly long pathway. All types of media was running around them like headless chickens, hurling questions their way but all the two did was smile and greet everyone who greeted them.

The power that resonated through the pretend couple as they walked towards the Mercedes hospitality inside the stadium, everyone could feel it. The pure confidence and kindness they showed on the short walk was enough to keep the world talking for a few weeks, grillz shining as they grinned and Lewis fist bumped people as he usually did.

Once reaching Mercedes, Nadia and Lewis weren't aware of the small crowd that had gathered behind them as they walked, everyone intrigued with the sight of Nadia next to the 7x World champion of the sport. "Lewis! Nadia, hello!" A short woman with a blonde bob enthusiastically said, standing up from one of the chairs inside the building.

"Susie! How's it going?" Lewis said, hugging the woman. "I am doing quite well," Susie said. "Who is this beautiful woman?" She asked, setting her eyes on a nervous looking Nadia.

"Hello, I'm Nadia. It's such a pleasure to meet you, Lewis told me about you." She smiled, stretching her arm out for a handshake that Susie happily accepted. "Oh my, likewise. I will have to steal you away from him now as he has to get ready for quali. Toto has meet you as well." Susie said.

"I do have to go unfortunately so I'll see you later in the garage?" Lewis asked, placing his hand on her waist whilst looking into her eyes. "Yup, have fun bruv." Nadia winked then placed a kiss on his cheek, the lipgloss leaving a residue on his cheek that he didn't dare to wipe off.

He winked back (dismally), then left the two ladies, greeting everyone in his way before walking off with Rosa, his Mercedes media personnel.

As Susie and Nadia had the cutest bonding time, including a very giddy Toto Wolff who was excited to see Lewis' wife to make sure that he wasn't seeing things. Nadia walked out of the hospitality with a chocolate bar in her hand, trying to remember the directions Susie had given her to the Paddock club.

Having no clue where she was going, she approached a woman who looked quite kind, donning the same passes as she was across her chest. "Hi there!" Nadia greeted as she stopped in front of the woman who's eyes went wide at the sight of Nadia in front of her.

"Holy shit, you're her." The woman blurted out as she then proceeded to slap her hand on her mouth afterwards. Nadia giggled at the woman's reaction, watching her as she swallowed whatever was in her mouth. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. You're just so pretty in real life. I'm Lily." She rambled out.

"Hey Lily, I'm Nadia," the older woman tilted her head a bit and maintained eye contact. "Don't know if you're busy right now but do you mind showing me to the paddock club? Thank you for the compliment, so are you!" She spoke, seeing Lily lose her breath a little when making direct eye contact.

"Oh! Of course, that's where I'm headed right now. You can join me in my walk there, it's not too far." Lily offered, to which Nadia just nodded and the two conversed all the way.

Once reaching the overly luxurious and crowded space, Lily guided Nadia towards a private section of the already exclusive space. Greeting those who waved at her as they walked by, she spotted a group of younger looking women who were eagerly looking around until their eyes landed on Lily and Nadia, smiles growing larger with them all standing up in excitement.

Deciding to greet the group first, she held her arms out and they fell into a huge group hug. Nadia felt surprisingly safe and definitely knew that these were the wags that Natalia was speaking about a few days before.

"Super sorry for the ambush, once we saw you enter the paddock we've been excited." The calm brunette woman grinned. "I'm Carmen, I'm with George." She tucked her hair behind her ear, her aura very classy.

George Russell, Lewis' teammate.

"I'm Kika! Francisca but I prefer Kika." The tall girl introduced herself, resembling a deer. Her eyes large with a beaming smile. "I'm with Pierre."

Pierre Gasly, apart of that one pink team. French guy.

"I'm Alexandra, so nice to meet you." The last girl introduced herself, voice very soft but visibly excited. She looked like she would be with someone from Ferrari. "I'm with Charles." She beams, Nadia's guess being correct.

"Well hi everyone, I'm Nadia." She said, opting for all the girls to sit. Kika gasped before she sat down, "oh my goodness, I just realised that you look like Tinker Bell."

The other girls looked at Nadia properly and agreeing with Kika, giggles floating around.

A lengthy conversation from fashion to careers to food, the group of women were interrupted by a Mercedes employee, asking for both Carmen and Nadia in the garage. Grabbing each other's hands, the two women greeted their friends goodbye as they walked out of the Paddock club.

The Mercedes garage was everything that Nadia imagined it to be, people wizzing in and out of there with both cars proudly displayed as the crowd gathered to take pictures of each car or simply wanting a picture in front of the driver's garages.

Spotting her husband's braids over everyone in front of him, she carefully walked over to him, not wanting to trip over anything. Locking eyes with each other, Lewis quickly put his airpods back into their case and stuck his hand out for her to hold onto. Manoeuvring his arm around her shoulder whilst holding her hand, Lewis held Nadia closer to him. Avoiding the cameras and the watching eyes everywhere.

"So? How was it? Heard you are quite the star today." Lewis teased. Glancing up at the man through her lashes, she smiled and bounced on her feet a little. "Everyone is so nice. I met the other girlfriends and bruv, you should've seen them. It was like I was holding the universe in my hands." She joked, earning a nod and a smile.

"Do you think you have one more introduction left in you? I have someone I'd like you to meet." He said, looking forward then at her, his sunglasses sitting on his forehead. Turning her head in the direction he just looked, she spotted someone familiar and as they walked closer, she recognised the tall figure and her stomach dropped.

"Lewis, hey man! What's good?" Pharrell Williams greeted her husband with a handshake then hug, letting go of Nadia's body for a brief period of time. Nadia couldn't believe the sight in front of her, her idol was chatting it up with her husband.

"And i want you to meet my wife, Nadia. My guardian angel through all this shit." Lewis beamed at her, holding her closer once again to bring her towards Pharrell. "Ah, it's a such an honour to meet you." The man exclaimed, his grillz shining as well. "He's said so many good things about you after the reveal, I was genuinely shocked that you two could keep a secret like this." Pharrell snickered.

Processing the fact that Lewis had spoken about her to her idol and that said idol mentioned that it was an honour, all she could really do was smile and nod. "Well, I'm glad we're finally out now." Nervously chuckling, Nadia tucked her hair behind her ear.

With a light conversation and a few pictures, Pharrell ended off with words that Nadia couldn't believe she just heard. "I hope to see you two in Paris, remember front row and I'll be sure to send some stuff from LV." The older man remarked, slowly walking away as it was almost time for Quali to begin.

Nadia sat with large headphones on her head, Bono's voice occasionally chiming in to Lewis. The screen in front of her showed all the cars racing on track, starting off quite smoothly in Q1. Whenever the camera would pan to her during a pit stop, she would smile or wink, quite literally the only actions she's been able to do this whole weekend.

-

RACE DAY.

As if it was clockwork, she sat in the same chair with her hands balled up in front of her mouth and her eyebrows furrowed as she watched Car 44 whiz around the track.

Being behind the scenes the day before had truly helped her understand the dynamics of the sport, Nadia's eyes snapping between watching the car drive and the current position he was in. P4 and there were only a few laps left of the race. Miles and Natalia were seated next to her, stressing just as much as Nadia did.

The atmosphere in the garage was tense, only audible sounds being heard in Nadia's ears were the car's engine and occasional groans or cheers from the crowd outside. Feeling all her senses show in anticipation, her clothes felt tighter than they actually were and her hands were shaking as she watched her husband turn the car into the specific corner that has been an issue the whole race.

As the last 2 laps went on, she stood up abruptly as anxiety seeped through her body. Nadia knew it was going to be a good position but seeing Lewis come alive in the final laps could put him anywhere. His car swiftly overtook Alonso’s, the finish line just a few metres away from him and Natalia stood next to her as they all watched Lewis finish the race.

P2.

The cheer that erupted from her was genuine, a few people celebrating all around them with the pit crew giving each other hugs.

“Nadia! Let’s go to the podium!” Rosa exclaimed, a giant smile on her face as she held her hand out. Looking back at Natalia and Miles, they both urged to go. With a grill filled smile on her face, she waved to whichever camera was on her and ran out excitedly with Rosa to where most of the Mercedes team where going to be along with media.

Upon getting to the infamous barrier as they waited for all three winning cars to arrive in parc ferme, Nadia held her head as she expressed her excitement to the woman. Members of the media could see that Nadia was making her way there, her own little paparazzi forming with many questions being asked but Rosa managed to guide her to the very front.

Lewis climbed out of the car, the neon and purple helmet sitting pretty as he walked towards the team doing a little dance on the way. Spotting Nadia first, his grin widened with his eyes closing a bit as he approached her. Once in front of her, Nadia threw arms around him and kissed his open visor, a brown and glossy residue sticking on there. Their eyes locked once and it was such an intimate yet soft moment between the two.

Her eyes filled with pride and happiness and his filled with gratitude for the woman in front of him, a special bond building right in front of the world. Planting the forehead of his helmet with her head, they scrunched their noses as they maintained eye contact with each other, not even realising that they were holding hands.

The moment was shortly interrupted by the noise of fans and the Mercedes team screaming in joy as he moved on to celebrate with them before hurrying to take his weight and get ready to go to the break down room before stepping onto the podium.

Minutes later, the drivers reappeared onto the podium, each one waving at their respective teams along with the crowd. As the English national anthem began, Nadia’s eyes went to the figure of her smiling husband, hands tucked behind him. Looking at the man and not the obscene amount of cameras on her at that moment, Nadia had to remind herself that all this was to benefit their parents’ feelings and to simply help Lewis.

This wasn’t real.

The trophies were being handed to the drivers, Lewis immediately lifting his and pointing to his team then Nadia, winking at her before waving to the screaming crowd. Watching him in his element was never going to get old , that was for sure and thinking about how all this could end one day made her stomach drop, her facade still showing the proud smile as she watched him leave the podium.

At least two hours later, Nadia, Miles and Natalia sat on one of the benches outside the Mercedes hospitality with their ice cold waters in front of them. The two teased Nadia to no end about her meeting Pharrell and how most of the interaction was caught on video by fans, posting on twitter.

“Listen, when you’re a stylist and you see your fav fashion person in real life, you’d scream too.” Nadia laughed as she hid her face in her hands.

“Just saying Nads, the shocked look you gave him when he was about to walk up to you lot was so cute. Gonna get that shit printed.” Natalia joked, earning an eye roll from Nadia.

“Aye! There’s the man of the hour!” Miles exclaimed, watching Lewis walk up to the building with Rosa right next to him, the Mercedes shirt flowing in the light breeze.

Giving his friends their own handshakes, he sat next to Nadia and gave her a fist bump, the two of them giggling right after that. “There’s no way you just fist bumped her?” Miles said, pointing at his friend then Nadia.

“It’s our thing, don’t worry about it bro.” Lewis said , a mischievous smile on his face. “So how was your first race, bruv? Susie said you should try be a team principal.” He asked, turning his body to face her once again.

“My days, Lew! That shit got me on my toes. The numbers took a while to understand but I eventually got it. Also which ones Leclerc?” Nadia asked, looking at the others.

“That one’s Charles. He’s a good one.” Natalia responded.

“Oh okay, he’s cool in my books. Those two red bulls got on my fucking nerves though. Driving like maniacs and that other one almost pushing you off the track?” In all fairness, Nadia was fuming at the thought of it. It was one of the moments that constantly replayed in her mind.

“Oh Perez. They’re okay, just glad I was able to get on podium.” Lewis shrugged his shoulders as he relaxed his arms onto the table. “There are no cameras here, bruv. I don’t fucking like them or that fuck ass team with their team principal. A bunch of pricks.” Nadia cussed, her friends watching her and giggling at her reaction.

“That’s how we feel as well but mr nice guy doesn’t think so. Welcome to the club, babe.” Natalia reached out her hand to Nadia’s. Accepting it, she breathed out and looked at Lewis once again who gave her a little smile.

“Tell those guys to get their shit together or else I’ll deal with them myself. Anyways, your drive was amazing today.” She smiled as if she wasn’t pissed two seconds ago.

“Y’know what, Nads? I totally get it.” Miles said, fist bumping her, adding a little gimmick after it.

“Anyone want ice cream?” Lewis proposed, watching his friends and their interaction, his attention on Nadia and how passionate she felt about the race. His eyes stuck on her the more she spoke about her weekend, her lip gloss from earlier still shining with their interaction at parc ferme replaying in his mind.

nadiahamilton • 14 min. “Miami, you’ve been good!”

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dividers by: @cafekitsune

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