#maybe controversial but im so sick

[serenashido]

shipping renkaza fucking sucks because you either get people who hate real enemies to lovers and call it toxic or pr*ship because they actually are enemies who want to kill each other instead of friends who bicker sometimes (these people are the weakest link and will not survive the winter)

or you get people who do ship it but only in the gooner dumbing-it-down-to-hardcore-porn way where they romanticize and get off to abuse and r*pe (these people are just gross sick individuals and i hope they go extinct)

and the few people who do see the emotional depth in the homoerotic minutes renkaza spent together and the potential in that for top tier doomed yaoi are few and far in between and i rarely find good fics that aren't just insanely ooc porn

[todayisafridaynight]

on the one hand listening to music while drawing is an easy solution to wanting uninterrupted background noise While I Draw however the downside is every time a new song starts theres a 50/50 chance that ill remember how i wanted to make an animatic/comic for it and ill scream inside

[seancouturier]

i’m just going to say it.. the barbie movie looks bad

[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.” 

[fairyofshampgyu]

just curious.. wdy think about hybrid txt?

You know I used to lowkey judge hybrid aus icl…but then I read some really good fics and I was like ywk, I fw this

☆ SUB HYBRID TXT THOUGHTS ! 🐾

Yeonjun:

Fox or cat hybrid !! You know those like really expensive breeds of cats that just look super expensive and elegant, I feel like he’d look exactly like one of those. Prides himself in looking pretty and rich and takes good care of himself and grooms himself, loves being pampered, hybrid jjunnie thrives on your attention, practically demanding it, and won’t hesitate to shove his head into your hands or stretch luxuriously across your lap when he feels ignored. Makes you buy expensive treats, meticulously chosen outfits, and prettiest collars, has a collection of them like pink satin ribbons, glittering jewels, and delicate little charms that dangle off the buckle all designed to highlight how undeniably pretty he is. Also has a really pretty tail that sways just so elegantly idk how to explain 😭 SPOILT BRAT !! He’s such a brat and always pouting with those pretty pouty lips of his omg but dw you just have to put him in place bc he breaks so easily anyway, just tugging on his collar roughly and pinning him down is enough to make him shut up and gasp, letting you do whatever you want to him, he’s so whiny !! Like the whiniest loudest ever especially if he’s a fox hybrid bc foxes are so whiney . Also I swear he has some sort of collar pulling kink, loves being pulled by his pretty collars, also loves dolling himself up so you can fuck him like that

Soobin:

Ofc he’s a bunny hybrid !! So shy at first, adorably bashful, his long ears twitching nervously every time you tease him, bunny soobin just the most fun to tease, tugging on his fluffy bunny tail or running your fingers over his trembling thighs always makes him squirm, cheeks flushed a pink as he stammers and shyly avoids your gaze but none of that can hide just how much of a dirty bunny he truly is, he’s literally horny all the time, begs you to let him fuck you literally all the time and when he’s in heat he’s 10x worse like lowkey you have to keep him fucked every second 😭 but it’s also extremely fun and entertaining to mess with him during these times bc he’ll straight up start sobbing if you don’t let him cum or let him inside you, full on tears streaming and hiccuping and lips wobbling devastatingly for you to let him cum inside 😭 and when you finally do the dumb bunny is literally drooling on you, cross eyed, countless thank you’s coming out his still wobbly lips and just garbled moans, fluffy bunny tail twitching and bunny ears flopped also thinking about soobin with a bunny tail is just so so cute 😭

Beomgyu:

Puppy hybrid gyu but also bear gyu is not appreciated enough on here im sick I need more bear gyu as well !! And this maybe controversial but…brown kitty gyu !! Come on you have to see it !! Bear gyu who is just always sleeping and so sleepy, loves cuddling and cuddles you 24/7 but he gives the best bear hugs and cuddles, literally so warm and comforting. Okay and somnophilia w bear gyu…bc he’s so into it…loves to wake up with you sucking him off, swirling your tongue around his cute tip and the dribbles of precum, bobbing your mouth up and down his dick, he’ll softly whine and whimper low and breathy, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut, long lashes fluttering and he’ll bring his hand to yours to hold and squeeze holding your hand tightly, arm thrown over his face, cutely groaning and mumbling incoherent half asleep little pleas, body twitching under your touch. Soft, sleepy, cuddly sex happens a lot w bear gyu too >_< but puppy gyu would be the cutest too, tail wagging when you touch him and fuck him bc he’s just so happy and excited, dumbly drooling, tongue lolling out and panting like the puppy he is and so needy and reactive, puppy gyu cums so easily. And just imagine those big brown round watery puppy eyes looking up at you when he eats you out, tongue working eagerly, just waiting for you too call him a good pup. But he also knows he can quite literally get away with anything and his punishments if he just looks at you with his sorrowful puppy eyes, sulking and pouting dramatically, puppy ears flattening so don’t be fooled ! As cute as puppy gyu is, he’s also evil and such a menace and can be such a brat !! Okay but also imagine coming home to puppy gyu at the door on his knees, teary eyes and panting flushed, paws to his chest and dick all hard and leaky and flushed too, head tilted to the side and whining saying he missed you sm and he was trying to be a good boy and not touch himself and wait for you okay I actually need to shut up bc I kinda love hybrid gyu I feel like people need to send me more thoughts of their own in my inbox pls pls !!

Taehyun:

Kitty tyun !! He’s like those cool, indifferent collected unaffectionate cats and it takes him a long time to warm up to you at first and he barely speaks, always leaving the house and wandering off somewhere god knows and coming back later 😭 but like one time he comes into your lap and rests his head there and cuddles into you and you’re like screaming for joy nearly crying bc you’ve been waiting for this the whole time !! He’s super cute but he thinks he’s such a tough cat loll 😭 he likes rubbing his head against you and it’s soo cute. PURRING !!! HE PURRSS SMM !! Very possessive and just makes sure he rubs himself against you and the furniture and house so it smells like him, marking everything still silently brings random dead birds for you but it’s his way of showing his love lol. Gives you lots of silent gifts tbh. You gave him money to hang out with his other hybrid friends and he returned back spending all that money on some jewellery to give to you instead lmfao, handing the gift in your hand wordlessly but turning his face the other way to not look at you at all but his face is all red and his tail is swishing back and forth furiously behind him. KITTY TYUN TRIES TO BE A TSUNDERE SO HARD BUT HES SO CUTE !! Thinks he can fuck you too and be the one in control but one stroke of his cock and he’s purring into you, burying his head in your neck and whining embarrassedly, tries to silence his kitty whines and moans but he’s soo loud, mewling and purring uncontrollably. I need more of subby kitty tyun tbh

Huening kai:

He’s literally such a golden retriever and no one can tell me otherwise !! Golden retriever kaii >_< so cute !! He’s so big and fluffy and he gets so happy when you come home, jumping into your arms but kai still doesn’t realise he’s so big and he’s knocking you over but he doesn’t care, licking and kissing at you. He’s also literally the most fucking perverted out of them all. Golden retriever kai is suchhh a nasty secret perv. Whenever you’re gone, he’s humping your pillows desperately and rutting wildly into them, panting and crying out your name pathetically. He’ll fuck your plushies and toys on your bed too >_< and he’s just always cumming and touching himself to the thought of you, taking a quick little sneak peak when you’re changing your clothes so he can have the imagine engrained in his mind and jerk off to it later at night. STEALS YOUR PANTIES TOO omfg he’s so nasty and you think he’s just your cute little innocent golden retriever. Sleeps and cuddles you in your bed sometimes and he’s ofc the big spoon but then in your sleep, you move a little and your ass ends up rubbing against his cock and he gasps and let’s out a little groan and he gets so hard he just keeps erratically rutting and humping against your ass, cumming in his pants with a hand slapped to his mouth. Does he even feel bad ? No not really … He just wants to fuck you fr, wondering how your pussy would really feel like all the time. Btw golden retriever ! kai has a huuugee dick too like it’s so fat and thick and big no wonder he’s always so horny and such a perv all the time.

[crow-ur-beloved]

various jrwi headcanons because the worms in my brain (potential autism) wont shut up. no real plot spoilers except for one, but its marked :]

the suckening:

shilo is like vampire immunocompromised, which added to the pile of reasons his mom used to keep him inside the castle because she didnt want him to immediately get 37 different diseases and Die. (if vampires can have allergies then id like to think they can also get sick. i dont actually know if thats possible in the vtm system but i dont care they can in my heart)

genderfuck/genderpunk afab emizel. i feel like thats the only label he'd use, if he had to have one. i dont think hed label his sexuality because he wants to be an enigma. but he Definitely likes men.

bizley said in the qna something that can Only let me think of shilo as aromantic. maybe aro And ace... i dont remember what he said exactly aughhgh i wish i did...

shilo fidgets with his hands like all the time. his mother and uncle tried to get him to stop and sit still because it wasnt very princely and whatnot but my boy needs a fidget toy. i think hed go craaaazy with an infinity cube

i feel like me saying arthur bennett is a bisexual doesnt even count as a headcanon like i think thats just a given. i feel like itd be more surprising if i said i thought he was straight. all beautiful beautiful vampire men have to be lgbtq. its the law actually

arthur never officially broke up with mary. mans just Left one day without warning. probably left a note that said "sorry. -arthur" on it. i doubt he had it in him to say goodbye to her face or his reasoning for it (he thought hed inevitably hurt her because of what he is and what he did to the people he loved in the past, because bad luck seems to follow him everywhere... oughh he makes me ill). he definitely used finding a new lead on anya somewhere else in the country as a good reason to dip. at least, as good a reason as it couldve been for him.

maybe controversial but i 100% think arthur and magnus had a one-night stand at the beginning of their relationship, before magnus met jerome, and they never talked about it again and pretend it never happened. cannot explain how real this is to me.

riptide:

ftm chip who 100% innately knew he was a dude since the moment he could think. like when the black rose pirates picked him up, he got confused when they started referring to him as a girl at first. probably never got The Talk from them, so was Very confused when he hit puberty. Reuben reluctantly helped him steal to pay for top surgery.

since tritons live at the bottom of the ocean, they would have eyes that are far more sensitive to light to allow them to see better since little light gets all the way down there. gillion was Immediately blinded by the sun when he surfaced and still gets headaches from how bright it is in the oversea, but they've gotten better the longer he's been up there. tritons are built to adapt to all kinds of conditions, so his eyes have slowly been getting a darker bluish-purple the longer he spends above the ocean; they were originally more of a light blue-grey.

in tandem with the last one, chip thinks hes either going crazy or a bad friend because he Swears gill's eyecolor is different than last week but how could that be possible, thats not just something he can do, right? why would he be able to do that???

if gillion gets knocked onto his back without warning he does that thing that sharks do where they get paralyzed for a bit when they get flipped upside down. its scary because he can see everything but cant do anything. he also definitely forgot to tell chip and jay about this fact and scared the Shit out of them the first time it happened around them.

gillion can also change his sex like some fish can. its the reason he can lay eggs. i think this makes it safe to say genderfluid/nonbinary/generally trans gillion tidestrider is highly possible and even probable in this headcanon. what im saying is t4t fish n chips.

not to headcanon all my favs as trans but i cant help it. it is the highest honor i can bestow upon them. anyways. mtf jay ferin. ava always knew and was the first person jay came out to. jay was also 100% named jayson after her father and went by jay most of her life anyway as a nickname and just decided to stick with it instead of picking anything else. may was always very openly-supportive of her. jayson was as supportive as a generally strict, overbearing, unsupportive-in-everything father can be. jay totally came out to him and the first thing he said to her was something like, "as long as it doesnt interfere with your navy training," and may promptly kicked him under the table and made him say something nice.

kiras trans too btw. she came out before jay and helped jay discover she was trans. and that she liked women.

(spoilers for 109 and beyond) chip can't entirely remember what he looks like. everytime he focuses on the illusion of hiding that hes practically just a skeleton now, it changes just a bit. freckles in the wrong places, the wrong shade of orange for his flame tattoos, too much light in his eyes, too much muscle on his arms. jay notices it but cant bring herself to say anything. she knows the illusion is meant to keep everyone from worrying, but, everytime she sees something off about it, she just remembers what he really looks like underneath, and that somehow feels worse.

blood in the bayou:

all these bitches gay as hell. kian is pan. rands got a lot of internalized homophobia. rolan probably too. its the 80s, man.

apotheosis (haven't finished it yet so idk how true these'll be lol):

agender rumi. godbless.

also rumis a theater kid. he got the lead in every musical he auditioned for because he could literally just shapeshift. theyd make up a new identity and appearance for every role and get to know everyone on the cast and then mysteriously drop off the face of the planet as that person when the production was over and nobody would know it was them.

peter has actually tried All Kinds of things. weed. yoga. multilevel marketing schemes. you name it, big chance hes done it at least once and didnt like it. he doesnt know how he ends up in the situations to try it, either.

[lesbianherald]

hello! i want to start off with thanking you for sharing coming home (but not to you) with us!

i was hesitant to read it at first, just because it’s not finished yet, but ofc i ended up giving in. best decision i’ve made :’))

aaaaaaaaaaa im in love with how you wrote them. gosh, the angst hits amazingly, i immediately ran to my friend to share it and told them to read this now!!! i’m a sucker for professors au (we’re lacking in it /sobs), slow-burn, angst, yearning, friends to rivals to friends to lovers again and your fic matches all those! and to top it off, your writing is amazing!

LOVER BOY JAYCE, MY FAVOURITE FLAVOUR OF HIM!!! fawk i just want to give him a hug and a pat on the back /becomes ximena for a bit to just do that/ lmao

and viktor huhuhu holy fuck how do i even describe what i feel for him? i think the best way to express it is /takes off mask/ i am jayce—jk dbdbdjd but yeah i love viktor a lot and i feel so much for him idk how to form the words😭 he’s my favourite and i love love love the way you write him! i love how you were able to balance his confidence and insecurities so well i just want to squish him dhdhdhd i think at some point i was praying he stops being stubborn and let jayce apologize, but honestly it’s hard and i understand why he was very firm. gods the tender moments between him and jayce huhuhu i want to bawl my eyes—i love jayvik so much.

the highlights for me were the catnapping (love this scene), viktor’s mentorship with jinx (my two faves😭🩷), the sisters’ reunion, ximena (omg i love her so much, i want to be her child and get smothered by her love), and ofc, the apology scene😭🩷🩷🩷

this was supposed to be just a small thank you and then get to my questions, but i ended up gushing a bit ^^; i should have probably taken this to ao3 comments instead dbdhdhd

so moving on to my questions, please know you don’t have to answer them if you’re not comfortable! i’m just interested in knowing some of the process authors’ go through when writing fics! and the way they choose to interpret the characters and their relationships.

- what made you watch arcane and fall for jayvik?

- were there any troublesome scenes/parts to write?

- which dynamics were you excited to write and explore in cmbnty?

- were there scenes that you wanted to incorporate, but didn’t end up adding?

- and lastly, other than arcane and jayvik, what are some of your interests?

that’s all!! and once again, please free to ignore the questions if you’d like!

p.s i laughed so hard on your author’s note about jayce not driving a cybertruck😭

thank you so much again for sharing cmbnty!

<3

HOLY MOLY THIS IS SO SWEET AND THOUGHTFUL!!!! I LOVE QUESTIONS!! I'm going to take some time to answer this one so here. Also, I do get into the current chapter a little (no spoilers, obviously, but maybe some lil hints/teasers, so I hope that's cool)

thank you so much for your thoughts on my viktor and jayce! I've worked so hard on trying to make them just the right amount of difficult and flawed so I love it when people see that and says it hits <3

the catnapping scene was so fun to write - and I adore jinx - so I'm glad those two things also hit fo you <3

i first watched arcane when it came out in 2021 because I saw gifs of it on tumblr and was so thrown by how beautiful the animation was. (I wont lie, controversially, I almost gave up on it because the music was so..... choice to me). i loved jayvik at the time. i was really hoping caitvi was going to hit harder (another reason I got into it is I heard lesbians) but I didn't really connect with the enforcer elements of caitlyn's story (I love her but yeah I found it all a bit questionable and I'm very very sick of lesbian cops in media)

i was obsessed. but not 'its time to engage with the fandom' obsessed. for some reason the first season just didn't hit as hard then as it did on my re-watch.

fast forward to 2024 and sorry this is so personal - but I'm between hyperfixations and am very depressed (lethal combo DKSLFJHSD) and it was the perfect storm for me to get re-immersed in arcane after I saw the first trailer on my twitter feed.

jayvik itself hits a lot of buttons for me I just adore. they're both genuinely kind characters who are flawed but want to do good. they have a natural chemistry and I just love stories about people who hold certain gifts that may be isolating and then they find each other and it means that they become the only people who can really understand each other?

I'm also OBSESSED with scientist characters. something about the beauty of discovery. the passion. the way its so easy to create something with good intentions that winds up causing harm. i have close family in stem and did a lot of stem stuff in undergrad and idk. i just really love scientists. my ideal woman is some hot woman in stem DKFLJSHf.

viktor being disabled (which i also am) also added a layer to this for sure. and just. the immediate stakes of saving someone's life. connecting over a dream - that Jayce is just so graciously and immediately willing to share after like. a few hours alone together lmao. it all feels so intense and loving.

2. troublesome scenes to write

so many dfkljh.

the flashback in chapter 3 came kind of out of nowhere for me. i did not expect it to get so emotionally charged- and to feel so much when I was writing it. i left this note in chapter four - but I was sitting on the chapter for days and afraid to publish because I was so surprised by it. it wasn't so much troublesome to write as it was troublesome to edit/reflect on. i got really in my head. i was like this is fanfiction about league of legends characters. why did I write this? DLKFJSHD.

the flashback of their big fight in chapter 5

this one, I'm so glad I wrote this before getting eyes because I fear I would have been very tempted to sanitize it and make it less mean. even now I've gotten a few comments being like. :( jayce would never do that :(

in my opinion... he would lol and I stand by it. everybody is capable of being really ugly and horrible when pushed into the right corner/circumstances. and jayce very much did manufacture weapons on the show despite viktor's wishes - so its something I was really wanting to explore in a modern context.

its just something i had to think a lot about. how far did I want it to go? how could I make it get really nasty while keeping some sort of empathy alive for both sides, especially jayce. how to I make sure viktor doesn't become this innocent victim in it all? how do I make sure that mel, despite being a catalyst, isn't portrayed as like a villain who ruined everything and instead as someone with her own unique motivations and concerns that happened to deliver crucial information? i hope I did all of it well. I'm personally as happy with the scene as I'll get with anything.

out of all the scenes I wrote, this is the one that gets the most pushback, specifically relating to jayce. i knew that would happen going into it, because I think the fandom has an over-romanticized view of jayce's arc and actions in season 1. but oddly I'm almost happy with that? I'm glad that it challenges people. one of the things I find most compelling and beautiful about jayce is redemption. and redemption can't happen unless you do something that requires it - so I hate that people ignore how much fucked up shit he does in season 1 lmao.

mel and viktor's slay-off on the balcony

the end of chapter 11 where mel and viktor talk I just knew was going to be incredibly important. it was one of those moments I was leading up to the whole time, because I knew it would be very relevant in future chapters (wink wink) and because its such a culmination of everything that's happened so far.

on my first write of it, i think because I was afraid of it, I focused way more on the logistics of what was happening with noxus and the board etc etc. it took me a while to find a balance between plot and emotion I was comfortable with.

for some reason the entire time i knew they were going to wind up laughing together. that was very emotionally important to me. but getting there was uhh... hard. again. I'm not saying I did this (or the above scenes) perfectly like good god. but yeah this one was a hard journey.

very important/high-stakes scene in chapter 13

there is a very big scene that I've had planned the whole time that, after season 2, I found important to take in a slightly darker and more dramatic direction. a lot of reasons I was torn on this - 1 - allowing season 2 to influence my writing is something I'm hesitant about. but also this is FANFIC so I decided that's kind of the point.

but its very much been a very delicate balance of a few things - 1. how do I not get preachy and let my anger at the particular storyline in season 2 affect how I write this? 2. this deals with jayce and viktor being witnesses to other characters struggles vs being at the center of it themselves? so I have to deal with how much they can actually be present. (this was also a struggle I had when Vi and Jinx reunited) how much they would logically witness before it feels like they're only present so I can continue telling the story. 3. because its such a dramatic scene, how do I make the dialogue feel real? how do I not let a particular character speak their feelings too much while also giving people a good window into their psyche? 4. how high the stakes should be. (this I will elaborate on once its out)

i am incredibly nervous for this scene. more so than anything else I've written in this fic. I'm still working on my first draft of the chapter and am going to spend so so much time in the next drafts on it. it's going to be really hard to land this one - and I really wanna do it right.

the final scene :)

i still dont have my final scene. i know where its happening, what thematically I want of it, how we get there, and I know I'm writing it today.

there was a moment where I almost went in a direction I think people would like- but have decided against ultimately. it felt too... cliche and a bit unearned.

additionally, with characters like viktor, who really struggle with saying what's on their mind, I have to play a very careful game of giving him bits of dialogue that land and feel like growth, without feeling unearned or unnatural.

3. which dynamics were you excited to write and explore in cmbnty?

aside from the obvious, jinx and viktor (honestly after season 2, i wish i explored jayce and ekko more), mel and viktor, cait and jayce.

4. were there scenes that you wanted to incorporate, but didn’t end up adding?

there's nothing huge that jumps out at me. honestly, I think there are probably some things I could have condensed more looking at the word count. i think the only thing is I had an idea for a flashback last chapter that dealt with jayce in the aftermath of viktor leaving, but I couldn't find a way to make it relevant, and it ultimately felt very overindulgent and melodramatic in the outline in a way I really didn't fuck with.

and lastly, other than arcane and jayvik, what are some of your interests?

:) i'm really into film. i'm a bit of a film bro lmao. i like video games (huge bg3 fan). true to my ao3 name i love cats and animals in general. I'm fascinated with outer space, physics, astrobiology. I'm also a huge history nerd, especially "weird" and unheard of history.

my whole life is writing really. in a way that's probably not super healthy lmao but it is what it is.

I am so sorry for the insane yap session I just went on. hopefully it doesn't come off overindulgent or like self involved. i just love chit chatting haha and happen to be fully on a break from work for a few weeks so I have a ton of time on my hands dfklasjdf

[chiacanwritesometimes]

casual (part 1)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.2k

authors note: this was a little hard to write, as i had to delve into the reserves of my own experiences, so this hits a little close to home. i will be updating soon! unedited. there is soft smut and mentions of homophobia. this whole series is about situationships, so dni if this triggers anything or makes you uncomfortable. please do not get into anything you do not feel comfortable doing, and know that you are loved and should not settle for less. my dm’s are always open. much love, and enjoy.

===========

your pov

you didn’t blame him. he wasn’t really in the best of mentalities for a relationship, so it must’ve meant a lot for him to choose you. or, at least, not push you away.

after losing his best friend, he decided he should lay low. if he didn’t get close with anyone, he would get hurt. except you. always, except you.

you would come over to his bleak apartment, and chat for a bit. occasionally, you’d bring him some food. you’d write down the events in your journal, rereading them time and time again to feel closer to him. you knew he didn’t want you, or rather, want you the way you needed him to. he was still stuck, mourning the loss of his best friend, and…lover. but he was gone, and you were right here. why wouldn’t he pick you? you weren’t terrible looking, and you weren’t … terrible in bed either. what was so utterly unappealing in you? you wrote in your journal. maybe in your thoughts, you’d find the answer.

entry 1:

it was 2 in the morning when i came over. the clock keeps ticking longer each time i go, and im hoping that one of these nights you’ll ask me to stay. you never do. i dont like the way i manage to say everything that’s on my mind when im with you. i think that one day, ill let you read all this, but for now, its just mine. i want to not like you, so badly. i get so nervous around you, my chest tightens, my lips curl inward, my eyes dodge yours, my hands are occupied with my sweater, and my heart beats speeding up by the second. i usually am more eloquent and organized with my words and feelings, but today was so frustrating. i can’t look into your eyes when we fuck, because i know that through mine you look for him. your eyes attack mine. your eyes are unkind, your eyes are bitter. your hands hold me, wishing i was someone else. your lips softly graze against mine, hoping that you’d catch a glimpse of what it would be like if it was him instead.

you picked up your pen, and sighed. that was enough angst for tonight. you still had his sweat on your skin to wash off.

he wasn’t evil, just in a confusing situation. you convinced yourself that if you were in his shoes, you would probably do the same. it still didn’t take away from the pain, though. you liked him best when you were the sole focus on his attention, and when he told you pretty things. you got a sick sense of comfort when he squirmed under your gaze. he knew what he was doing wasn’t right, but cmon. he must have had some sort of clue if he felt guilty.

his pov

you had just left his apartment on a sour note. it wasn’t uncommon for that to happen. he would send you a text, saying he was sorry, you’d respond, and the cycle would repeat again. it was almost comical how long it has been since you two had been at this. he had put himself in an awkward situation again, but he wasn’t sure if it was an uncomfortable one. the last time he was in a one sided relationship was with… it wasn’t a relationship, at least not by technicality. sure, they slept together, spent time together, cried together, but he knew deep down his heart belonged to peggy. he wasn’t jealous, but a part of him wondered what would have happened if he was honest with his feelings. hes sure nothing would have changed, as it would have been extremely controversial for america’s sweetheart to have a sweetheart of his own, let alone a male one. he felt like a kept secret, a promise that one day, things will be different. they never were.

now, with you, things were different. he felt the need to shield himself from the world, but it wasn’t because homosexuality wasn’t accepted, rather because he wasn’t. his mere existence was hated by many, for who he was, who he hurt. the winter soldier, although gone, still haunted him.

he didn’t want to hurt you. being close with you would mean that you’d have to take care of him, something he hardly ever did, so why should you? other than aftercare, he wouldn’t let his guard down when you were near. he was afraid that he would be right, and you wouldn’t give a shit about him, worried that you just wanted him for his body, like them. he didn’t like thinking of you that lowly, but after a life like his, it was bound to happen.

he sighed, and grabbed his phone. he texted you a small apology, silently cursing himself for continuing this cycle. he threw his phone on the couch and sighed. he got up, walked to the kitchen and made himself a small breakfast. the morning didn’t start just yet, but might as well start the day now.

your pov

you couldnt hate him. you loved the way he loved you, the way you came undone with his touch. his scent was addicting, and you were obsessed with the way he tucked your hair behind your ear, the way he breathed heavily under the sheets, the way he held you so gently when pumping inside you. you thought of this morning, and sighed.

you got his text, and smiled. “miss you. door’s open. bb.” you found it adorable how he typed in short sentences, and finished each message in “bb”, for “bucky barnes”, as if you didn’t know it was him. you dressed yourself casually. nothing too fancy, nothing too drab. you wore a small amount of perfume, just enough so his bedsheets smelled like you. you wore your favorite lingerie, knowing that romance was out of the picture. this was just a fuck, a quick connection between two people before the knowledge of knowing you will never be his overcame you. you showed up to his apartment, and he opened the door. you didn’t even need to knock, he knew you were there. he smiled.

“you look beautiful.”

you walked in, and he started kissing you. you always wore a low cut tank top, and he always lingered on the straps of your shirt. he’d bite it, almost whining that the small piece of fabric was in between him and your body. he led you to the couch, and let you straddle him. he removed your pants, complimenting the way they hugged your hips while doing so. you got on top of him, loving how almost natural it felt, how perfectly you fit on top of him. his favorite part to leave hickeys was in the sweet spot of your neck. he kissed over the healed bruise, evidence of the last time you came over to his place.

you went to bed. might as well catch some sleep before the morning came.

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

rust cohle with a controversially young girlfriend anyone? not but seriously what would he be like..... would marty judge ( he cant )......

this is so awful but im going to bring up Freud here

like i feel like the line between daughter and not daughter would get blurry as hell 😭 like the man lost a baby girl and does not like to think too long about the way this has maybe fucked with him because it would hurt too much 😛😛

Rust is haunted by women, by the mother he never knew, by Claire, SOPHIA, dora lange, so I think his attraction/desire would just be ODD in general, not even with a younger woman specifically, just like full of weird pining that physically hurts and makes him feel sick

Tbh, with how painfully pragmatic he is, i feel like rust just needs someone to take care of and im not saying a younger woman would be a substitute daughter but im also not not saying that

like satisfying the “needs” of this younger woman would satisfy his own needs that he’s suppressed for so long and will not/maybe never will address.

I do think that, once he’s with you/younger woman, he would never fucking leave, because rust doesn’t hit me as someone to backtrack on his word, and once he’s made his mind up it will take getting fucking stabbed in carcosa to change it

honestly depends which rust we’re talking about though, i think 2012 rust would get with a younger woman if she interested him, i think 2002 rust would be weirder about it (2002 rust is the strangest tragedy i ever saw), and i think 1995 would be weirdest

all versions of him are resistant but all could be broken into because i guess he’s human

marty would be jealous let’s be honest and he would definitely maybe try to be a “morally upstanding guy” and try and judge and make disapproving faces whatever but, inside, he kind of would just hate him cause he ain’t him if yknow what i mean

controversially younger woman personally i can’t write because ive holed myself up in a little world and let me tell you my Pinterest screen time has gone CRAYZY in the past 2/3 months HOWEVER there are writers out there who explore it super interestingly

anyway i hope this answered your Q, idk if smut headcanons were what you were looking for instead ToT

[cyberskulzzz]

Could you do Rory (mbav) headcanons??

sorry I took so long,I dont know if I ate or if these are absolutely controversial but hope you enjoy<333

Rory Keaner Headcanons

General headcanons:

•Trans female to male (ftm) and definitely grew up catholic. 

•His dad and him dont have a great relationship due to that,the only reason he was able to transition was his mom,which he is very close to and thankful for.

•He went no contact with his dad as he got older.

•A bit of a mommas boy. 

•I think he’s either straight or pan,idk I just get the vibes. 

•Had a crush on Benny at the beginning of their friendship. 

•Listens to fallout boy. 

•YAPPER obviously 

•Obsessed with sour candy and will eat way too much of it till he gets sick. 

•Has the deepest sleep ever and can literally sleep through 13 hours every weekend. 

•No social filter what so ever,doesn’t mask at all. 

•Has a hot wheel collection of cool race cars. 

•Great with kids cause he’s energetic and playful obviously. 

•I feel like nowadays he’d dress in a 2000s teenage dirtbag way but maybe Im also just delusional,who knows. 

•Dog person 100%. 

•A stoner,I just see it,not a lot but occasionally with Erica or Benny,they try not to smoke with/around Ethan there cause weed just makes him more anxious. 

Boyfriend Rory:

•That boy immediately stalked your socials,any information he could get was appreciated,it also meant that it was easier for him to flirt/start a convo with you,cause let me tell you that boy was NERVOUS. 

•Clingy,texts you every five minutes and follows you around like a lost puppy. 

•Sees anything as a date,from keeping you company at appointments or while running errands to just doing nothing all day,its a date. 

•Worships you and the ground you walk on,that boy is so obsessed with you,sometimes he’ll just stare and ask himself how he pulled you. 

•This might be controversial but I think he’s trans I just see it,and you being his first long term partner gives him SO much gender euphoria,he just adores you. 

•Will not stop talking about you,no matter the topic he finds a reason to bring you into the conversation when talking to Benny or Ethan,which annoys them,a lot. 

•A gentleman,respective of your boundaries although he might be a teeny tiny bit too fast forward or pushy sometimes.  

•LOVES to hear you yapping,though I feel like he’d zone out sometimes and just admire you (blah blah blah proper name place name back to my stuff). 

•He was those starwars lightning swords(I think thats what they’re called please don’t come for me🥲🤞) and you guys have play fights with those. 

•Just a lot of play fighting in general. 

•Although I see his music taste going more into 2000s emo,pop punk,if youre a pop girly/boy he will listen to the pop girlies,I could see him especially liking Sabrina Carpenter or Taylor Swift (him and Ethan start arguments about Taylor cause Ethan‘s not a fan apparently.)

•Can be forgetful,might forget dates or to include or offer to include you in the groups plans,he does feel incredibly sorry when he notices though. 

•Will offer to turn you into a vampire more than once but is definitely scared to actually bite you cause he doesn’t want to hurt you or scare you. 

•Very stubborn when arguing and will give you the silent treatment,not for long though. 

•You’d routinely watch some paranormal documentary on date nights along with getting pizza. 

•That boy has ADHD and maybe a bit of the tism (same Rory same) so he’s always down for activity dates,I could see him LOVING the fair or an arcade. 

•I feel like his (giving) love languages are gift giving (and he’d go all out with it) and physical touch. 

•Love language wise when it comes to receiving for him,is 100% words of affirmation,compliment or praise him and he’d immediately melt. 

•A bit out of character,maybe a headcanon for when he’s a bit older of course (and confident)but I could see him having lingerie polariod pics of you in his clear phone case,without your face on it cause he doesn’t want to show you of like that,its just a reminder for him. 

•LOVES LOVES LOVES hearing your gossip and is really really invested in it too,if its from your social life or even just pop culture doesn’t matter,that boy will be listening full time. 

•Would definitely take you on night flights to enjoy city lights or you’d people watch through windows so you could gossip. 

God I love him

Taglist: @pr3ttyf4wn, @pinkestglittercat, @ray2o2, @bettyweir, @throwback-town, @t0b7z-pl47h0u53

Divider credit: @ianrkives, @witchrealms, @thecutestgrotto

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

maybe this is controversial but i think that uber drivers should play music they like, not just whatever is on the pop radio station. do i usually listen to metal/rock/scream music? no. but it's interesting to listen to for the twenty minutes i'm in someone else's car. do i usually listen to music in spanish? no. but i can appreciate that the driver enjoys it and hums along. and its not my car, im not having to listen to it for more than half an hour, so what's the harm?

and besides, i'm kinda getting sick of hearing the same four pop songs on every uber ride.

[yokakaiju]

i got bored and made a tierlist based off who smokes the most weed

justifications under cut

so like i made this cause its funny first and foremost, but i did put like somewhat actual thought into this. not much, but synapses were firing in my brain putting this together

also im not tagging everyone, ill just like pick 2 or whatevs

okay so first up is chidaruma. dude prolly invented weed ngl. you know he's smoked everyway imaginable: blunt, pipe, bong, can, apple, vape, synthesized, edible, hotbox, blower; you name it, he's done it. he's kinda over it, but he's still up there just cause like... idk he is and won't take criticism

haru is a beautiful weed smoking gf thats literally it

13's entire schedule is probably wake up, smoke, jerk off, sleep, eat, smoke, jerk off, eat, smoke, repeat. he also would probably kin jesse pinkman

ton is a bitch and smokes all the cross-eye commanders weed. like they'll save up for MONTHS to get like 5oz (one for each of them :3) and he'll be like, "woah! a bag of weed!" and smoke it ALLLLLL in like an hour. he's like a truffle pig for weed, they can try to hide it but his ass always finds it and smokes it all. he would prolly also call it za or skunk or some shit like that

ebisu isn't quite in the high 24/7 catagory, but she could be. dawg loves weed, like she is also 100% a fucking master at rolling blunts she rivals chidaruma at it. rolling blunts is like a sport for her tbh

aikawa's gotta cope dawg. like if he aint at school or currently being possed by demons his ass is smokin that shit bruh he needs a minute to chill. also he's got crazy money (kai's money but shhh) so he might as well spend it on his pookie <3 (risu)

noi may be controversial being up so high, but hear me out. weed smoking gf? i think yes B) mogs at you

asuka also has to cope, but its cause shes a blackpilled femcel (her own words i stg)

chota would smoke, but he hates the smell and doesn't want it to ruin his clothes and shit. he prolly wears like silk gowns and dances around to madonna while trippin off like 10g. he's livin the life tbh

OKAY HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT johnston. fucking johnston is only i repeat ONLY UP HERE‼️ because kasukabe gives him those little non thc thc pills people give to dogs with anxiety and agression issues to keep him calm

poor dokuga cant share with his besties so he's been condemed to eating edibles alone... also smoking/inhaling smoke makes him drool a bit so like a bit deadly for everyone around him to even try. i like, debated on putting him in never, but tetsujo prolly cooks smth up for him so he doesn't feel left out <3

natsuki is only at the top of sometimes because she probably would more if she had money. also she sucks in a blunt rotation cause her ass ALWAYS WITHOUT FAIL tries to hold it in and always coughs like a mfer and taps out after like one hit

vaux just makes sense. he looks like an average 30-40smth nu metal oldhead, theres no way he DOESNT smoke at least a little. id put him in 100% but he's also a fairly responsible doctor so liek idk

kasukabe doesnt as much anymore, mostly only when he's with haru, but he still does sometimes for funsies cause he's just chiil like that :3

tetsujo doesn't thattt much cause it fucks with his already dog shit depth perception super bad, but sometimes if ton or the others dont find it he shares it with dokuga and they like yuri pose and eat edibles together or smth idk

ik kaiman is gonna be controversial being so low, but listen. 1) his ass is too focused on socerers and shit to care 2) he's dirt poor. he simply cannot afford it 3) how tf is he gonna smoke with no lips? that blunt would just get chewed to shit. like genuinely he would maybe get one singular edible if nikaido or vaux were feeling nice, but other than that its like, idk almost never for him

i would but shin in never, but ik noi is like "boss!!!! come take hits off this bong with me!! its gonna be so sick omg you HAVE to come smoke with me RN!!!!" and he'd be like "sighhhhhh... anything for my weed smoking gf ig..."

ushishimada is only so low cause i feel like he's too mothery to smoke a lot? like, he's too responsible, but not responsible enough to outright say no. also they're poor asf and ton always smokes it all

fukuyama would get his ass kicked by tanba if he found out, but ik dawgs gotta take a load off sometimes tbh

now again, controversial take but i have reasons. risu is so fucking poor. like, genuinely he is too worried about his tuition, bills, and groceries to give af about it (also cause aikawa is a bitch and makes him pay for everything cause "i forgot my wallet oopsie :3c"). now aikawa does supply him tho and he hooks him up with the primo shit ong. so at least when he does smoke he smokes that good shit (also they yuri pose as well while they smoke)

again, saji is too mommy to smoke that much weed (also another case of being too poor). bro doesn't want his clothes and needlework to smell like shit, which i respect

ai 100% would if his ass wasnt so busy with his damn self expiramentation bs. like, he wants to smoke so bad tbh, but he's like "sigh i gotta work on my plans to rebuild my body from the ground up.. maybe tomorrow" stares longingly out the window imagining how cool smoking weed is

again, kai's over here fuckin "i have to go to work" like he genuinely just doesn't care or have time. he's never even thought about it tbh, like you're tellin me this mfer has had a single thought outside of total domination in his entire existance??? HELL NAH HIS ASS DOES NOT THINK HE HAS ZERO THOUGHTS IN HIS HEAD I STG

now this may also be controversial. why isn't by beautiful coquette cottagecore angelcore babe out there rolling and smoking the fattest blunts known to man? turkey just like doesnt feel it. its not for her tbh. she tried smoking, she tried edibles. she just wasnt a fan tbh. like, she'll cook up some of the tastiest edibles you've ever had if you ask, but she just aint a fan

kirion also just doesn't feel it tbh. again, its not for her and thats alright

wow surprise surprise another controversial take. like, before you get mad just think abt it for a sec. like, she's so fucking business first and always has been that i think she would just see it as a major hinderance on her job performance, as well as the performance of her employees later down the line. now im not saying she's a narc or hardass about it, im saying she just doesn't feel it. the high she gets from people enjoying her food and making money is enough for her tbh. also she does do edibles sometimes, but mostly like when it rains in hole to make it a little less miserable and painful

en is about the same. like, he def has. he's just like, idk. he doesnt wanna. its not for him anymore. he doesn't care if anyone in the family does it, but they better not sacrifice the quality of their work for it. like if he catches you high on the job its prolly like some sort of repremanding, but off the clock he dont gaf

genuinely copy paste nikaidos shit for tanba. he's too worried about his business to even consider smoking weed

now... kawajiri is a fucking narc and a half. his ass would be like "erm ☝️🤓 well actually" and then give a big long speech about how weed is bad blah blah blah whatever no one cares dawg stop fuckin yappin. but like, he's just pissed cause no one will smoke with him or share their weed with him cause he's such a hardass

fujita is kinda weed smoking gf coded, but like ik his ass would be like "EN! EN! I SAW EBISU SMOKING A BLUNT THE SIZE OF HER OWN FOREARM AND TRYING TO SHARE IT WITH KIKURAGE!!! YOU NEED TO STOP HER RN!!!!" but hes only like this cause when he was in a blunt roation with shin, noi, and ebisu they all told him holding it in made you higher, but he ended up puking and they all laughed at him and made fun of him for it because hes a fucking idiot. so now he's an evil little narc who squeals to en when he even catches a whiff of a skunk like scent

curse is a bitch and ik his ass is like "RAAAHHHH‼️ I GOTTA GO KILL THE CROSS-EYES BOSS RAHHH‼️ I NEED TO SEEK REVENEGE FOR MY MURDER RAHHHHHH‼️" like dawg chill tf out be so real rn. he's too focused on revenge and shit to smoke and like, i think if he did smoke and kai also smoked they'd have beautiful hot sexy yaoi, thats just me tho

oh my god shou is such a bitch about it. like sure kawajiri gives lectures about the "scary true reality of weed" and fujita is a narc, but this guy. oh my god this mfer. THIS IS THE REAL REASON EVERYONE FORGOT ABOUT HIM ITS CAUSE THEY KNOW HIS ASS IS GONNA WHINE AND BITCH AND MAKE YOU GO TO LIKE AA OR NA OR WHATEVER FOR IT!!!! HE'LL START CALLIN YOI AND ADDICT AND SAYIN ITS A GATEWAY AND SHIT AND HOW THE DEVILS WILL IMMEDIATLY DRAG YOI TO HELL AND TORTURE YOU FOREVER IF YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT IT OH MY BALLS

kikurage is literally just a dog dawg. her ass dont even know what weed is

store crow mauler is like... idk man. idk how it would smoke weed or if it even knows or cares what weed is. whatever, its kinds like a pet so whatevs

[hyunnieshannie]

PSA {im boutta be controversial i think?}

warning: Talk of incest. and work of fiction involving minors.

we don't kink shame in this house. we really don't. unless that kink is geared towards MINORS & Incest

I don't do this often. I really don't.

So welcome to todays episode of 'Mini's Mini Rants' we shall be discussing the topic of more 'taboo' themes in writing. SPECIFICALLY Underage work, and Incest.

ON THE TOPIC OF INCEST:

YES, I understand there's 'preference' to all writing and if its not for me then I can just block and move on. but I can't get behind it and I WILL NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER Write this.

HONESTLY This ate at me because I came across an account that writes incest for the skz boys and I couldn't. nope nope nope. this is not for me. nor kitty.

we will NOT write this if you request it. I know we write some pretty heavy stuff sometimes. MCD (Major character death) Knife play, etcetera. but we will NEVER EVER write this so PLEASE do not ask this of us. not that anyone has requested it but I just really felt the need to remind people of the lines kitty and I have.

ON THE TOPIC OF WORK INCLUDING MINORS.

WE WILL NEVER SUPPORT THIS.

WE WILL NEVER WRITE THIS.

BLOCK US IF YOU EVEN READ THIS KIND OF STUFF.

I DO NOT give a fuck if its "just a work of fiction" A LOT of us write for ourselves so don't hide behind it being just a story its fucking sick.

for the people defending a fic I witnessed of CHILD skz member (10) and ADULT skz member. (father x son) please for the LOVE OF GOD BLOCK ME.

IN CONCLUSION:

We don't support these topics. we do not want to SEE these topics and we would appreciate being blocked if you do enjoy and do write these topics. I've already blocked the one incest account but IDK who else out there writes it and honestly I do not want to know.

The reason i said earlier this may be controversial is because I saw some people HEAVILY defending these topics "its fanfiction for a reason" "its not real".

so maybe someone here may see this and disagree. pls. pls. just block us.

thank you

-Mini

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

this might be controversial but i feel like so many straight men arent even attracted to their sexual partners? they just use them to get off.

they feel entitled to a megan fox or porn star type (no matter what they themselves look like) but since they cant get that they settle for the next best thing because its better than nothing. thats why many men cheat as well, theyre just waiting for something better to come along.

this is such a widespread phenomenon theres even several sayings on it. in german: „loch ist loch“ which translates to „hole is hole“ meaning no matter where your dick lands at least you got off and „lieber widerlich als wieder nicht“ which (loosely) translates to „i‘d rather have sex with an ugly/gross one than no sex at all“.

sex for so many men is completely centered on putting their dick somewhere and ejaculating. many straight men dont love pussy, they dont necessarily desire their partners, they just see them as a means to an end, or otherwise they would put in actual effort to satisfy her as well. this is underlined by this cliché of women being so difficult to reach orgasm, when in reality, women often dont know how themselves because they internalise they cant come and dont get in touch with their own sexuality, and men dont bother trying.

ive heard from many female friends that they want sex more than their male partners because they always leave them unsatisfied. for most men sex is over when they come. and if they actually cared about and desired their partners they would ask how to satisfy her as well. dont get me wrong, orgasm isnt the end and center of sex, but there is a clear clear gap here.

and i think in longterm heterosexual relationships, women get so frustrated they just dont want sex at all anymore. this might also lead to the „my wife always has a headache when i want sex“ dumbassery because at some point women more or less consciously tell themselves im sick of being used by him to get off. i‘d rather have no sex than unsatisfying sex. then men use this to justify why they cheat and neglect their wives, well we dont have sex anymore so she isnt of as much value to me anymore. when its their own fault the wife checked out of their sex life.

this also explains why sex buyers are mostly male. they either feel entitled to fuck an attractive woman they wouldnt get without paying or they just want to get off and need a vessel.

i know i will get some idiot in the notes saying my jakey isnt like that. okay good for you. but what about his former sexual partners? and what about all the other women who have given up on sexual satisfaction by men out of frustration or maybe even think they are the problem? this is not a fringe phenomenon this is reality for many women who have sex with men.

and how would it be different? the whole sex industry is catering to men. and we have established that porn is seeping through the cracks into the mainstream. which only makes sense if most men start watching porn from a young age and carry what they learn there into the bedroom with unsuspecting women.

this shit makes me so angry! women deserve so much better!

[lunarleonardo]

Do you know about that tier list website? I would absolutely love to see a visualization of your favorite tags to read or write about on A03, and/or your rankings of Danganronpa characters. ^^

you're asking me to share my OPINIONS on the INTERNET?

I left out anime-only characters (Ryota excluded) because it's been a hot minute since i've watched it. Some of these may or may not be controversial, I dunno. Tiktok has ruined me as a fandom enjoyer (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠) still healing

If you like any of the characters I dislike, that's fine! I just didn't like them very much as I was playing the games ^^" Toko was a hard one to rank cus.. it's toko .... but I liked her a LOT better in UDG than in DR1. Chapter 3 of UDG especially made me looove Genocide Syo. girl why are you blowing everything up girl STOP!! THE PROPERTY DAMAGE

As for the ao3 tags list, I couldn't really find a good one for tags. So I just did one for tropes :P I've left out any that revolve around smut (since I don't read that) and things that I don't know about. I mostly read drv3 fics nowadays, but I used to stalk that Sans (Undertale) and Leonardo Hamato tag daily. speaking of which shuichi saihara whump writers where are yall at

Hurt/Comfort, Angst With A Happy Ending, Torture Recovery/Torture Aftermath are some of my favorite tags and things to write. In case that wasnt obvious xD

some fic types I also really enjoy are LAB AUS!! Superhuman stuff, specifically mermaids and vampires. I also reeeally like dragon AUs and stuff so maybe I'll just go entirely off the deep end and turn my favs into a dragon. I dunno. Also, Pokémon trainer AUs are fun when done right!! I have Crossovers filtered out because there's a lot of fandoms Im not into, but Pokémon AUs are so sick. Superpowers too!!! GODDD superpowers. Im so normal over them

A few other specific tropes I like are kidnapping, force feeding, psychological mindfuckery type shit, HUMILIATION especially I love humiliation. You know what how about I just rank whump tropes here we go

I am a HUGE whump fan. Massive whump fan. Angst With A Happy Ending has carried me through this lifetime from the minute I opened Warrior Cats: Forest Territory on roblox for the first time. I kidnapped way too many kids on there (⁠个⁠_⁠个⁠) rogue groups were my THING I loved being evil and twisted. I miss that game man people were so much fun then. I wouldnt have the confidence to roleplay on a Roblox game nowadays even if I tried (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠) it went from that to me googling "steven universe kidnapped fanfiction". and then i discovered ao3 and now look where we are

Anyway these rankings can change at any point as I grow and change as a person. What I dislike today I might like in a few months. So who knows :p

[freaksstar]

Hi Star!! Just read your enhypen x reader works and I wanted to say that I really love them 💖

If its not too much of a bother, and if you're still taking requests, could you write something about P1Harmony's Keeho confessing to bff reader? Thank you! 😊

ᴛʜᴇ 5 + 1 ᴡᴀʏꜱ ɪ ꜰᴇʟʟ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ.

•´¯•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•.🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•.🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•´¯•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•

•´¯•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•.🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•.🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•´¯•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•

pairing: keeho x fem! reader, bff's to lovers

wc: 4.1k

genre: fluff, angst (if you squint)

guests: jay (enha), niki (enha) danielle (nwjns), chaewon (lesserafim),

warnings: mentions of crying, cussing (light), lmk if I missed anything else.

a/n: tysm for requesting nonnie!! it makes me rlly happy when ppl request lol, and it gets me motivated. i'm so sorry for the extreme delay in posting this tho cuz its exam season and everything and im sick so its been a tough week 😥 i hope you like it tho!! I hope how I wrote it is ok tho because i ended up having too much fun with the idea lol but fun fact!! i wrote this while listening to same scent by oneus lmaoo 😭

•´¯•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•.🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•.🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•´¯•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•

i've lost it.

He's absolutely lost it. He's gone insane. That has to be the case, no? Now here's the thing: him and you go wayyy back. Like, you're childhood friends. And so he loves you - platonically. At least, that's what he thought until today. Is it normal that his heart's palpitating like it's going to explode? It must be normal. It's the adrenaline, he swears. Is that how adrenaline works though?...

Maybe not. Maybe he's gaslighting himself. Not that it's his fault. For some reason, today you look stunning, even if you're dressed down as hell. Maybe it's the way your intently listening to the drafted tracks that are for their next comeback, maybe it's the way you're swiftly taking notes as you bop your head along, hell, maybe it's just the fact that aside from his group members, he's never seen someone care so much. Not that he's complaining of course. The fact that you'd embroidered hoodies for their next comeback, for the entire group, gotten them accepted by their stylists so they could wear them in their mv's and performances might be the reason. It was so random too, when you came into their dorm one day, a pile of clothes in your arms as you proudly dropped them on Keeho's bed.

So random. Arguably weird.

But you cared. You cared about them.

And now, suddenly, he's found himself lost in your eyes as he's pitying all the guys you've dated. Pitying them for loosing such a gem. Must suck to suck, he thinks. It's then that he swears he won't loose you. He won't loose you if his life depends on it, even if he has to gaslight himself into believing he doesn't have feelings for you. Because he'd do anything for you to stay.

You're his and his groups biggest supporter, his rock when the leader duties get to him.

If he lost you, he'd be dead.

"Keeho? You good?"

Oh shoot.

2. delusional

"Yoo, guess who's got the goods?" You'd say with a grin, plopping down bags of snacks on the floor without making a noise.

"Girl, you cannot be saying shit like that in my company building. You're gonna get me cancelled! Gonna have controversies of me smoking weed." He'd reply, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice as he turned the swivel chair to face you. "Why're you here?" he questions after watching you pull out a bag of chips and tossing it to him, automatically going to open it. "Bro, can I not visit my best friend... you thought I had other friends to crash with?"

It's a silly question. Of course you have other friends to crash with.

But you choose him.

Goddamn it, he has to stop reading into everything.

"Nah it's just... whatever, forget it. You got the smarties?" Judging from the way his hand goes to the nap of his neck, you can tell something's up. He only tends to do that when he's nervous or stressed, a small detail you've learned about him after years of hanging out. Would you question it though? No, of course not. It's most likely because of the upcoming comeback they have.

And Keeho? Well damn can he figure out that you've caught on. He's not the best liar, or white lie yapper whatsoever, and so he's seen that face of yours - eyebrows unnoticeably furrowed, tongue poking the inside of your cheek - multiple times. He's quick to distract you from the fact that something's up with him.

"Broo, you good? I asked where the smarties were, lemme smoke 'em like we used to back in high school..." He'd drawl lazily, grabbing the polythene bag and rummaging through it for a few seconds, before pulling out a wrapped pack of smarties. You sigh, an endearing smile making it's way to your face as you watch him crush the pellet-shaped candies. "You're such a weirdo..." you'd mutter, your words tinged with a joking tone. "Don't even, you're literally the same," he hits back, a small chuckle escaping your lips.

"Eh, we were made for each other. You're stuck with me for the rest of you life Yoon Kee-ho, whether you like it or not. We're certified weirdo besties after all!" You exclaim, sitting on his dorm room's bed, the cheesiest smile plastered to your face.

"We were made for each other."

He turns away, grabbing a pair of scissors, though the action is only an excuse to hide his blushing face. The way you had him flustered at such innocent words killed him. Damn was he delusional. Those words didn't have anything but a platonic connotation, and here he was, face flushed as he tried to contain the silly school girl-esque smile threatening to appear on his lips.

"Of course, you dork." He mutters softly, quickly regaining his composure before flicking your forehead, to which you recoil away with a laugh.

If only you had the guts to tell him you meant it all romantically.

3. your #1 supporter

The next time he sees you, you're crying. He'd decided to visit you after a long and busy week, since you'd been unable to visit him, and well, he hadn't expected to see you in such a state. He had to make an effort to keep his jaw from dropping as you slowly opened the door to your apartment.

"Kee... you're here." You mumble softly, as he takes in your disheveled state, not having seen you like this since university acceptance exams. "Hey, hey, girl, what's up?" He's quick to turn soft at your appearance, brushing the hair out of your face and embracing you gently, his tote bag abandoned at his feet. The way it hurt to see you like this was unbearable. It was already unbearable when he saw his bandmates, the only people he cherished aside from you and his family, hurt, but from some reason, it hurt ten-fold when it was you crying.

Your arms slowly make their way around his torso, leaning into his embrace, thankful for the warmth. "So much work." is all you'd murmur into the thick fabric of his hoodie, breathing out slowly. He didn't need much more context to understand what had you so stressed.

"Exams?" he whispered softly, only to be met with a nod. He stands there for a few more moments, gently caressing your hair, his heart speeding at the closeness of your bodies. A proximity he once didn't notice nor have any care for. Now, he actively seeked it. God, he was such a simp.

After a few moments of thoughts, and cursing himself in the back of his mind, he asks another question. "You wanna take a cuddle break 'n then work on preparing again? I can spend the night and help you out, yeah?" Another nod. He silently smiles to himself, resisting the urge to kiss your forehead. You pray that he can't hear the way your heart's pounding in your chest right now, praying that the pink dusting your cheeks is unnoticeable.

"I'm so proud of you and the work you put in darling." He says quietly, running his fingers through the locks of your h/c hair. "You're my rock, I hope you know that. So much stronger than me too, if I had to deal with the preparation you're going through for that test, I'd still fail."

His words earn a small giggle from you, and a remark.

"We're ride or die after all, right?"

Sure as hell that's what the both of you were. He'd be dead if you weren't here.

4. 9.27

Why the hell was he jealous? Not like he was in any position to be jealous. So maybe seeing you talking to Jiung, Theo, Intak, Soul, and Jeongseob more than him for the past week was killing him. Maybe the way you'd all shut up and stop laughing the moment he entered the room hurt. Would he attempt to talk to you about it though? Not yet, not until it ate him away so much that he was forced to confront you, before he perished to the thoughts circling his mind.

You were friends with them too.

Now he just wanted you to himself.

He'd slap himself, realizing just how toxic that was. If he did that, he'd loose you for sure. In his opinion though? You looked even better then you currently did laughing at things he said. With a defeated sigh, he'd unlock the door to the band's dorm, kicking his shoes off before looking around the dark room, confused. Where was everyone? He swore they hadn't gave him any heads up about going anywhere. Pulling out his phone, he'd yell, "Guys?"

Before he could process the ripple of quiet murmurs that spread across the room, the lights were on, and there you were, a cake in your hands, the candles on the cake slowly being illuminated as Soul popped out of no where and lit them.

"Happy birthday to you..."

From his peripheral vision, he could see everyone else popping out from their hiding places, Theo with his hands full of gifts, Intak, Jeongseob, and Jiung struggling with unrolling a banner that Keeho could only barely make out the words of. “What?…” He’d mumble, his phone long forgotten as he subconsciously slipped it back into his pocket. Right, his birthday. Man, he’d been so caught up with practice and all of the preparation for the comeback that it'd completely slipped his mind.

"Keeho!" You'd exclaim, suddenly appearing in front of him, Soul to the side twirling a plastic knife in his hand before handing it to Keeho. The others would take their places next to you and Soul, Theo putting the gifts down slowly and Jiung helping Jeongseob put up the banner, while Intak got out a pack of small plates and forks.

"Uh, y/n? Thank you for doing all this but... I..." The way his face flushed as he stumbled over his words was embarrassing, but he really couldn't do much. He was already on the verge of crying, just from seeing all of you guys arrange something like this for him, and even though he wasn't the type to cry, something just snapped. Might've been the stress, might've been the relief, but as he blew the candles out he couldn't stop the warm tears from dripping down his face. Letting out a soft string of curses, his hand would come to his cheek in an attempt to dry the tears quickly, only to be met with your hand doing the job instead.

"Aw man, we didn't mean to make you cry... y/n bro, did we really just spend this entire week trying to hid his birthday plan from him just to make him cry? Swear my plan would've worked better..." Soul would say as he stood off to the side, taking the cake from your hands and cutting it into slices. He'd giggle as you retorted to his comment with something about how a jump scare wouldn't be any better.

Not that Keeho really caught any of the comments the two of you were making at each other, as the gears in his head were turning. Keeho was smart, y'know? It's just that sometimes it took him a good moment to get things, and so when the pieces clicked, he couldn't help but let out a quiet gasp. So that's why you'd been so secretive with the others all this time. When you'd look back at him after your quick discussion with Soul, you'd be met with glaring eyes, though his smile gave away the unseriousness to his appearance. "You... I swear to god, you alway have me trippin' about something..." Keeho would murmur, chuckling to himself as he trapped you in a hug, before breathing a sigh of relief as you returned the gesture.

"Try that again, and I might actually go insane."

"Huh? What're you on about now Kee..."

You'll know why one day.

5. skeleton flower

It'd been a tough week for you. You were busy with work, studying for your upcoming tests, making more embroidered pieces for P1Harmony due to the stylists requesting you to do so. What could they say? They loved your work, and well, you couldn't refuse being the people-pleaser you were. So with all that on your plate, and multiple deadlines, you'd decided to lock in. Locking in... was an interesting experience. When you locked in you tended to be seriously locked in. Like, locked in your apartment complex locked in. You hadn't stepped foot outside in a good 5 days. Now Keeho knew you got like this - so he tended to give you space during your 'im going to ghost everyone and never leave my apartment' phases, only checking in once you hit the 6 day mark of no contact.

You had reached the 6 day mark.

"Shit-" you'd curse under your breath, stabbing your finger for what felt to be the millionth time with the needle. Your ring finger would quickly find its way to your lips as you sucked the blood off, seething at the prick of pain. Sure, it might not be the most sanitary way to approach the issue, but you were on a time crunch, and it got the job done.

That was until it happened again, and this time your eyes would start dripping with water, the salty tears plopping onto the fabric of the hoodie you were currently embroidering. Ah, so you'd reached your breaking point. It was bound to happen at one point. Yes, you were aware that it wasn't healthy to stack stress and try to do everything all at once, but it was a habit that'd carried from your high school years into your university years - and you were yet to break it. That's why you relied on Keeho to keep you rooted.

Just then, as if he'd heard your thoughts, the doorbell would ring. Having no energy to walk to the door yourself, you'd pick you phone up with quivering hands - left abandoned to the side of you, as you hadn't touched it in days - and pulled his contact up, messaging him "you can come in". He knew your apartment's code afterall.

The faint beeping of the code being punched in would ring in the quiet interior of your apartment, and following it, the creak of the door opening. You could hear Keeho's calm steps, a pause, and then a rustling of a bag, as he made his way to your room. Your back was turned to him, as you were sitting at your desk, and you'd hear a faint whisper, before feeling hands on your shoulders, and a bag being put down.

"my skeleton flower... how're you feeling?"

You hadn't heard that nickname since the two of you had crammed for high school finals.

It'd been a while.

It still made your heart race all the same.

"I... I'm not sure, my rain"

A nickname that hadn't left your lips in quite some time.

You wouldn't notice the way he blushed at the statement.

You'd be met with open arms holding you close, as you sank off your chair to meet him on the carpeted floor. "You've been doing great... I think it's time for you to stop self-isolating again though, don't you agree?" he'd murmur against your ear, tracing shapes on your back as you clung to him, your first human interacting in days. You replied to his statement with a faint hum, tightly hugging him back. The two of you would stay like that for a bit, just silent, unspoken words between the two of you.

I love you.

A silent plea that went unheard.

5+1. firework

"Keeho!"

From just the sound of your voice, his head would whip back, meeting your grin. The rooftop firework party in honor of P1harmony's comeback had been planned by you a few days ago, and after a bit of convincing the higher-ups, Keeho and Theo, being the group's oldest, had gotten a thumbs up for your plan. The rooftop itself was being decorated by Soul and Jeongseob, streamers being put up here and there as Jiung set up the couch and chairs - Theo following behind with bottles of soju and snacks, laying them out carefully with a stack of paper cups. Intak would be setting up a folding table, carefully placing a boxed cake down on the plastic table cloth as he got utensils and paper plates out. Jay and Niki were at the barbecue, whatever they were cooking leaving a mouth-watering aroma in the air, the sunset in the background perfecting the mood.

"Heyy! We've been setting up, as you can see." He'd say, greeting you with a quick hug, though he wished he could hold you for longer. Looking around, he asked, "Who'd you bring?" You were allowed to bring two other friends after all. "I brought Chaewon and Danielle! Just gotta make sure Danielle doesn't get her hands on the soju tonight." You'd say with a giggle, brushing the hair out of your face.

Your eyes.

Your voice.

At hearing your sweet laughter, a chuckle of his own would leave his lips. "Mmm, I gotta watch Soul tonight, 'cause I think Jeongseob's responsible enough to not sneak any drinks, and Jay has to watch Niki. Guess we're all on babysitting duty then?" He'd remark, watching you laugh as you set your bag down. Turning to him, you'd murmur with a small smile, "I suppose so."

Your smile.

"Alrighty then, I gotta set up the fireworks. You girls help out somewhere then?"

"Can I help you? Chaewon and Danielle went off to help the others."

"Yeah, it that'd be great" He'd mutter, sheepishly pulling out an instruction manual. "Haven't been able to figure this out all day." You meet his statements with loud laughter, and it'd soon infect him.

Your laughter.

Your kindness.

About two hours later with an evening glow illuminate the rooftop, you'd all be huddled up around a fire pit, eating Jay's cooking and exchanging conversations, every now and then a remark or two causing laughter from everyone. The clinking of glasses, the warmth of the fire, the lighting, the talking, all perfect. The perfect memory. You looked perfect too, as always. Before you realized, Keeho would catch himself staring, remembering the little hand-picked bouquet of flowers he'd made for you sitting in the corner. He had to tonight. He wasn't sure if he could live with himself if he didn't tell you.

So when everyone would be in their positions, and Jay would be getting ready to set off the fireworks, he'd grab the bouquet, which you shouldn't be able to see very well due to the dark of the night, and he'd make his way to your side. You looked so excited. How cute.

"Keeho, Keeho, Keeho, you ready? He's gonna set them off any moment now!" you'd exclaim, clutching his hand. He'd reply back with the same amount of enthusiasm, as he tried to not be distracted by how you were holding his hand. A second later, the two of you would hear Soul scream, before yelling, "Hey guys back up! I lit the fucking fuse- shooot!" As you two giggled, you could hear the faint response from Theo, telling Soul something about not cussing, before the bang of the first firework would go off.

Collective shouts of joy would come from where you were all huddled together, joined by the clinking of glasses and laughter, as you and Keeho would laugh along with everyone else. Shoot, he had to do it now, or he'd forget and never have the guts again.

"N/n, c'mon, I gotta tell you something real quick," He'd say to you, catching Intak's smirk as the two of you walked off a few feet from the others. He'd mutter something under his breath, before grabbing the bouquet off the floor as you made your way over, putting your red solo cup down.

"Yeah, what's up?" You'd question, tilting your head slightly as you studied his face. Something felt off. A second of silence would follow, before Keeho would open his mouth slightly, the hesitancy obvious.

"Y/n."

"Yeah?" You were now giving him a quizzical stare, stepping closer. "Something wrong?"

He'd exhale, steeling himself for rejection.

"I... I love you. A lot. And... if you're unable to return my feelings, that's completely fine, so please don't feel pressured to say yes. Would you... would you be my girlfriend?"

Done. Now he could regret it forever, but at least he got it out. After a few moments, he'd hesitantly meet your eyes, waiting for a response. Maybe he should clarify.

"Once again, I-"

"I love you too."

What?

"You- you what?"

Had he heard that right?

A quiet giggle would leave your lips as your stepped forward, hands taking his as they intertwined.

"Can I kiss you?"

You had him wrapped around your finger. Of course he would let you kiss him. He'd let you do anything.

In return to your query would be a grin, as he slipped his hands out from yours and to your face. He'd hold your face gently as he pressed his lips to yours, the bouquet long forgotten. It's fine, he could give it to you later.

He had what he loved the most now, after all.

You.

•´¯•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•.🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•.🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•´¯•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•

please don't translate, copy, or steal my work!

ty for reading <3

•´¯•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•.🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•.🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•´¯•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•. 🎇 ❤ 🎇 .•¯´•