#show me ur last lines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyuswhore · 3 months ago

Text

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.”

2K notes · View notes

awrkive · 2 months ago

Text

WARM NIGHTS & CLEAR LINES — JJK (m.)

there haven't been a lot of people who have come into your life that became important to you – and you didn’t expect jeon jungkook to be one if it – not at all. but what started as a casual relationship turned into more than that, and now you find yourself deeply in love with him – and happily so.

or; your first "i love you" comes out completely wrong.

PAIRING cnbl!jungkook x cnbl!female reader

GENRE r18+ (SMUT, fluff) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WORD COUNT 11k of pure fluffy and smutty nonsense 😍 literally 90% of this is smut

WARNINGS/MISC fluff galore, cnbl jk is the father of all simps all men need to be like him fr, angst if u squint but like not really 😭, oc's tendencies to be avoidant of her feelings show up lol i still love u saur, best boy cnbl jk ):, he will disintegrate if he cant call her by a petname [ explicit sexual content: unprotected s*x (its just a fanfic its not that serious), panty sniffing (like very quick), dirty talking lol, c*nnilingus, they hold hands during it <3, VERY SLIGHT foot action but like its very fleeting lol u dont need to worry about it lmfao, multiple s*x positions, cowgirl position cos her eyes are pretty trope, good ole cre*mpies ], L b*mb drop and an ily kink develops. literally every paragraph theres an ily crying. anyways i think thats all feel free to inform me if i left out any

NOTES i have like 11 asks on my inbox asking about how cnbl couple is and what their label is are they official now etc etc and they've sitting there since bush administration </3 after two years of drought we are finally so back. i purposefully didnt answer any of th asks since i want to make a drabble for when they finally make things official so this is it awrkive nation🩷 this can be read as a standalone?? but like pls read cnbl first lol (also i thought i ate this title when i thought about it but now i realize it kinda sounds ass but its 2am so give me some slack. also this is unedited skjfdjkfhdk AND this will also be my last post before i go mia for the next few weeks due to big life happenings. leave ur thoughts in my inbox or reply section to get a cnbl jk to go🫂

ORIGINAL STORY [CNBL] | MAIN MASTERLIST

Jungkook loves when he gives it to you slow. Loves the heavy breathes that puff out of your mouth, the drawl out moans that give your mouth that lovely, erotic O-shape which image burns in his head for the next few days (two days, at the very least), and the way he can feel the exact moment when you clench and unclench around the ridges of his hard cock.

But he also loves it when he jackhammers into your pussy, pounding in and out of it at a quick pace that your eyes roll to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his skin (or scalp), the staccato rhythm of your “oh”s and “ah”s that sound like real music to his ears, and the way your mouth hangs open as you utter sweet gibberish into the air because the pleasure he’s giving you feels too much.

“Give it to me, give it to me,” you whisper against his mouth. On your back, you’re sprawled across his bed, your thighs resting on the crook of Jungkook’s elbows as he pounds into you like he’s trying to win a contest.

There’s dried up tears on the side of your eyes, your lips swollen from the way you’ve been kissing for minutes, and Jungkook finds it hard to focus on one thing when you have your pussy gripping around him like a fucking vice, your breasts bouncing at his every quick thrust, and your pretty face looking at him like you just want nothing but cock.

“Y-yeah, fuck—” Jungkook grunts, repeating the same motion of fucking into you at a pace so fast he can hear his bedframe hitting the wall when he thrusts back. He grips your thighs tight, veins popping out of his arms. “You like this, baby? Love when I fuck you quick and fast?”

You nod your head, bottom lip caught in your teeth, looking up at him with those hooded eyes that Jungkook is near to losing his goddamn mind. God, you’re so fucking pretty it genuinely hurts him. Most especially his dick.

“Am I fucking you stupid, angel?” He slides out, and then enters you abruptly, making you cry out in pleasure. “I'm taking care of you so good you can't think straight, huh? Hm?’

“Y-yes!” You squeak out, grabbing to try and hold onto his biceps. Jungkook leans forward so you can find leverage on his body, his dick hitting deeper into your core at the movement. At the mewl that you let out, he stretches your legs higher until you almost feel like you’re being folded in half, with Jungkook jackhammering his dick into your tight pussy.

"S-so good…" you whimpered, almost out of breath.

Jungkook groans at the pretty sound. “Ngh– I feel fucking good, too, baby. You're so fucking pretty. Squeeze those tits for me.”

You oblige, grabbing your boobs and squishing them together. Jungkook revels at the sight, wanting nothing but to burn every second in memory. Sometimes, he wishes he can have some sort of copy of you two doing this… just a little something for your own private enjoyment. He hasn’t brought it up to you, mostly because he thinks you won’t necessarily be into the idea as much as he is. Will probably say no, or be partial to it at best.

Next time. He tells himself.

“Fuck, fuck – fuck!” Jungkook grunts, sliding in and out of you, picking up his pace more, beginning to sound delirious at the sensation of your walls fluttering around his cock. It’s impossible the way you just grow tighter every second, clenching around him like you don’t have any intentions of letting go.

“J-Jungkook—!” You cry out, arms reaching out for him, and when Jungkook sees the small stream of tears falling out from your eyes again, he can’t help but fuck you senseless. “Oh my god– ah– fuck, i-it feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

He continues his movements, pounding into your pussy, tightening his hold on your hips. Your nails dig into his forearms, and your chest subtly moves up and down at every action that he makes. When you close your eyes, that’s when Jungkook knows that your climax is near, and so he stays consistent in his pace, just fucking into you deep and fast – just like how you like it now.

“Ah– there, Jungkook— oh god–!” You yelp, choking in your words, your pussy spasming around Jungkook’s cock until he feels that burst of hot white around his shaft. You reflexively let out a loud moan, but what you say next completely catches him off-guard.

“It feels so good– I love you.”

Jungkook staggers, dick slipping out of you momentarily at your sudden confession. But as he lets his gaze fall to your face, you have your eyes closed, lost in the moment, like how you usually are when you just orgasmed – and Jungkook knows he can’t talk to you at that state, nor can he ask to confirm what you just said.

So he looks down at where your bodies meet, shakily breathes when he sees the base of his cock getting covered in your cum, your juices dripping all over his dark sheets making a wet spot underneath you.

“F-fuck,” He hisses, quickening his pace to let himself go.

He thinks about the sound of your “I love you”, how it falls prettily on your lips, and how good it would be to hear that one more fucking time.

Letting out a guttural groan, the thought completely tips him over the edge, and he grips his cock to shoot his cum into your swollen hole, painting your walls white just as you painted his shaft the same color with your own orgasm.

Unexpectedly, he feels you gush the second time.

It’s cold and it’s hot at the same time – the sensation. It’s top three one of the best feelings a man could ever experience, and Jungkook is greedy – always greedy when it comes to you – that he pushes his cock back in to put it all in you, not wanting any to be wasted on the mattress. And just because he wants to hear that pretty moan from you again when he enters your cunt.

You do, making the hair on his body tingle.

He drops down beside your body – more like on top of you, but a little off to the side – making sure to not put all his weight on you lest he hurts you. As usual, you receive him wholeheartedly with open arms, humming when he begins to suckle on your still rock-hard nipples, his hand shooting up to fondle the other one. Instantly, your hand caresses his hair.

“Kook.”

“Hm?” He hums against your breast.

“I’m sore. Get your dick off me.”

Jungkook frowns, but nonetheless acquiesces and slides out of you. He hisses when he feels your cum leaking out, about to insert a finger in you to stop it, but you take his temporary separation from you to stand up from the bed, leaving him on it alone.

“Baby,” Jungkook calls – whines – really, looking at you with furrowed brows.

You roll your eyes. “I’m not cockwarming you tonight. I’m going to the shower–” When you see him moving to get up from the bed as well, you shoot him a glare. “No. No funny business. I’ll just go clean up and you can too and then we’ll sleep.”

“I can clean you up.” Jungkook looks at you, wide-eyed. You look at him dryly. He sighs and then lets himself fall back to the bed, naked and all that, his dick still semi-hard against his stomach. “Okay, fine.”

“Good.”

He stares at your ass as you go to the bathroom, enjoying the view of your naked back before you disappear inside the room.

Jungkook closes his eyes as he crosses his arms on the back of his head, thinking that maybe it’s good you didn’t let him in the shower with you because… how does he bring up the fact that you just said… it?

“I love you.”

Did you… mean that? Like… you love him? Like, actually, love love him?

It’s been eight months since your whole set up started. Four months of solely fucking and another four months of more fucking but you’ve actually both established that you like each other.

Of course, Jungkook feels more than that. He has for a long time now. He’s liked you since the first time you had sex and he started having deeper feelings for you every other day since then.

Needless to say, Jungkoon loves you.

Has for a long time now.

But he didn’t say anything because he was scared that you would be scared. He felt like the luckiest guy on earth when you told him you liked him – and he felt pretty much untouchable when you two started exclusively dating each other four months ago. You’re definitely his girlfriend now and him your boyfriend – and sure, you haven’t had The Talk yet, but… now that you said you love him… that pretty much changes the course of everything…

Right?

However, he finds himself pondering on it.

Did you really mean that? Jungkook doesn’t think you’re the kind of person who just spout words as heavy as that confession, so you couldn’t have been insincere when you let that out.

But… you were in the middle of sex, though. Did you just say it because you were in that position? Maybe you figured him out long ago now, have already known that he loves you, so you just said it to get him off?

That’s probably not the case, he physically shakes his head. He knows that you know you don’t need to do anything else other than be underneath him or on top of him so he can release. Hell, your mere voice is even enough to tip him off the edge; there are countless incidents where he feels a certain kind of desperation for you, in the morning or in the middle of the night when you’re away and not in his arms, and he presses your name on his contact last, then what’s supposed to be an innocent call turns into something very much far from wholesome when he feels his dick twitch at the very sound of your voice and embarrassingly cums in his pants when you goad him about it.

You know your tight hold on him. You don’t need to say I love you to get him off.

But damn, did that really get him going more than usual.

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, his head throbbing at the thoughts going haywire inside his head. His dick has calmed down now, soft in between his legs, and he’s starting to feel sticky, especially with the ruined sheets on his back.

Standing up, he picks them up to put them in the hamper, grabbing a towel real quick to wrap around his lower half.

When he finishes changing the bedsheets into fresh and clean ones, that’s when you step out of the shower.

“I turned on the hot water for you.” You say, tightening your baby blue robe which is a pair of Jungkook’s own robe that he bought for you two two months ago.

Jungkook walks over to your direction and takes you by the waist to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“Thank you, angel,” he says. You give him a smile and he can’t help but give you a peck once again. “I made the bed.”

“Thanks.”

Jungkook stands there and he doesn’t notice that he’s staring until you point it out with an arched brow.

“What?”

With a surprised look, Jungkook takes himself out of his trance. “Oh, uh, nothing.” He gives you a hesitant smile. He’s actually thinking of asking you about the thing you said earlier. But right now, as he looks at you again, he finds himself a bit reluctant. “I’ll shower now.”

You look at him weird and Jungkook chuckles as he leans down to kiss you again.

When you break the contact, going over to his closet where a huge portion of your own clothes have already made its own way to, Jungkook thinks that maybe he’ll bring it up when he finishes showering.

But as he steps back out of the shower ten minutes later, you’re already sprawled across the bed with your nightie on.

And as Jungkook steps closer to you, you’re fast asleep, soft snores coming out of your mouth, pretty and peaceful in your slumber.

Jungkook smiles at the sight.

Tomorrow. He’ll bring it up tomorrow instead.

In the morning when Jungkook woke up, he didn't find you in his arms like he expected to. And when he looked through the notifications on his phone, your text told him that you already went for your 10 am class. Jungkook’s first one is at 2:30 in the afternoon.

He intended to take you out for lunch in the afternoon, but when he called you, you said you had a meeting with your club and you’d only be free in the evening onwards.

At 9:30pm, when all of Jungkook’s classes have ended, he sent you a text again, hoping you’d be free by the time.

One whole day of not seeing your face and he was starting to feel a little on edge.

[9:31pm] Jungkook: hi baby classes ended [9:31pm] Jungkook: hru i havent seen u at all today

Jungkook couldn’t help but send another one.

[9:32pm] Jungkook: i missed u. can i come over?

At that point, he was already over at the uni’s parking lot, going to the direction of his car and unlocking it when he got near. When he buckled himself into the driver’s seat, he hoped to see a reply from you.

But nothing came.

When he arrived home at the end of the day, he took a quick half-bath and ate some leftovers in the fridge.

As of now, as he settles himself onto his bed, he scrolls through your text thread, the Delivered button on his last text taunting him the longer he looks at it.

With furrowed brows, he begins to type up another message but then soon, the Delivered stamp changes to Read, and the three dancing dots on your end play on his screen, which somehow lightens his mood.

[10:45pm] princess🥰💓: Hello, Kook! So sorry for the late reply. I got caught up with classes and the long meeting with the club today [10:46pm] princess🥰💓: We apparently have to push the fall edition of the print a week earlier and I also have to revise some stuff in my thesis so I’m a bit tight on sched

Jungkook nods to himself upon reading the text message, feeling bad for you.

[10:47pm] Jungkook: ohh ic ic [10:47pm] Jungkook: do u want me to bring u food?

[10:48pm] princess🥰💓: Like, youre coming over?

[10:48pm] Jungkook: yeahh [10:48pm] Jungkook: if u want

Jungkook waits as the bubbles appear and disappear on your end, until he receives your final reply.

[10:50pm] princess🥰💓: Hmm I appreciate it but Im over at Hana’s right now. Club stuff. And then I’ll go home later to work on my paper

Pouting, Jungkook sighs as he reads your message. He really wants to see you today… he misses your pretty face and your voice and your touch.

But he doesn’t really want to push. You’re very anal about your personal space, especially when it relates to your academics.

Letting out another heavy sigh again, he tells you to give him a call when you’re at your place.

He doesn't receive any.

“Hey,”

“What the—” You see the librarian from across the room immediately eyeing you with a deadly stare. Mouthing a shameful “sorry”, you clutch your chest, turning to the embodied voice again properly this time. Only to get taken aback. “Oh hey… hi.”

Jungkook stands in front of you and he looks so… handsome – nothing new or groundbreaking, per se. He always looks like that. With only a simple combo of grey hoodie and black cargo pants, his backpack slung over one shoulder, he can probably outmodel professionals on the runway. Though, the way he looks so comfy is making you want nothing but to snuggle him.

“Busy day?” He asks, pertaining to the laptop and stack of books on your table. Placing his bag on the floor underneath the table, he takes the seat beside you.

“Yeah… I'm writing an essay right now.” You offer him a small smile. It feels like you haven't seen each other for weeks, but the truth is, it's just been over two days since you were at his place.

“I see. Do you mind me here?”

“Nope. You can do whatever you want.”

"Can I kiss you then?" He asks and that makes you pause.

Looking around, you take note that there aren’t a lot of people in the library anymore as it’s already late. There’s the librarian a few feet away from you, but he’s currently busy doing something on his computer. With a quiet chuckle, you face Jungkook and say, “Do you need to ask?”

Jungkook shrugs, already leaning towards you. “I just feel like it.”

“It's fine, Kook.” you turn your head to him, and he does not waste any second, closing the gap between you both and capturing your lips in his for a soft kiss.

You sigh in his mouth. You miss him so much and he smells so good it calms your insides. You've been stressing over the essay you’re writing, but all that seems to die down as a result from the exchange with Jungkook.

God, you really need to talk to him.

“Missed you.” He says once your faces are apart. He pecks your lips one more time for good measure and gives you that adorable bunny smile of his.

“We saw each other, like, two days ago.” You chuckle, making sure to muffle the sound.

Scooting his chair closer to you, Jungkook whines in your ear, “Too long.” When you look at his face, there's a small hint of pout on his lips.

“Well, we're here now.”

“Really?” Jungkook raises his brow. “Then let's get out of here. You can write your essay at my place and I'll cook you dinner and then we can binge watch the third season of Twin Peaks.”

“You haven't even started on the first season, why are you watching the third.” You say with an incredulous tone.

“Doesn't matter.”

It does matter.

Jungkook has driven you both to his place. When he turned on his TV, you told him you can just start Twin Peaks all over again so he can understand what he's watching, but he insisted that he was gonna know the context eventually – fast forward, he did not. So here he currently is, asking you who everybody is and what’s the context of what they’re saying, and as much as you love his company, people posing questions after questions while watching something will never not be a pet peeve of yours.

“Baby,” you start. Jungkook looks at you with doe eyes. You cup his face and stare at him seriously. “You're annoying me.”

He lets out a gasp.

A literal, audible gasp.

“That hurt. Please tell me you're joking.” Jungkook says that, but you can see the playful glint in his eyes as you squint yours at him.

He made you bulgogi and you both devoured the last of it five minutes ago – and you're thankful for his kindness and generosity but god—

You push on his chest lightly. “Then stop asking. I told you we can just watch the first season but then you want to jump into the last one, of course you're gonna be confused.”

“Yeah but you already watched all of it. I didn't want you to get bored.” Jungkook pouts. You stare at him for a while and you kind of hate that he’s so handsome and so cute at the same time it makes it hard for you to completely be annoyed with him.

There's a fond look on your face when you roll your eyes again. Scooting closer to him on the couch, you plant a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You're really sweet, Kook, but why don't we just watch a movie or something.”

He leans down to kiss your mouth. “Alright. You pick the movie and I'll go grab some chips from the pantry.”

You smile at him before he disappears to fetch some food, leaving you to browse through the catalog. When he returns shortly, you muse, “You're really nice and sweet to me today. What's up?”

Jungkook scoffs, as if offended by what you said. “Am I not nice and sweet every other day?”

“That's not what I meant. You're just extra sweet and extra nice tonight— I mean, you usually put up a fight on who picks the movies.”

“I let you win every time though?” He says and you nod in thought.

“True.” Looking back to the television, you hover over the Notting Hill poster. Thinking that the description sounds interesting, you click on it. As the movie loads, you turn your gaze to Jungkook and nudge his leg. “But still…”

He can’t help but chuckle at your persistence. Gathering your feet on his lap, he leans back and retorts, “I just missed you so much. Is that bad?”

You don't anticipate the way he lifts one of your legs, holding your ankle up and then putting a kiss on it.

It makes blood rush to your cheeks. With his mussed hair and the grey hoodie and cargo pants from earlier changed into a simple white shirt and grey sweatpants, he looks comfy you just want to jump him and bite him and kiss him all at the same time.

Damn. He really makes you feel a whole lot of things you're starting to think you need an intervention.

You’ve never been so attracted to somebody before. It may be because you know you’re past the point of being just attracted to him.

And then there’s that beat in your heart again. The flip-flopping and the weird feeling in your stomach.

You look away from his intense gaze. “No.”

You hear him let out a low chuckle, a sound so attractive you feel the hair on every part of your body standing up.

“Come here.” he puts your legs away from his lap, much to your little disappointment. But he beckons you to come close to him, and so you do, leaving your lying position from the couch to go over to where he is. You don't know whether you're gonna place yourself beside him or what, but he beats you to it as he takes your thighs and guides you to straddle him.

You do so without any words, following his lead. You feel heat creeping up your neck when you finally land on his lap, his arms circling around you.

“Why do you still smell like flowers even after a whole day?” It's followed with him sniffing the juncture between your neck and shoulder, inhaling your scent.

You flinch 'cause it tickles a little. He always does and says that shit and you can't help but laugh, always not knowing what to say to that. But Jungkook doesn’t seem to need your input, anyway.

He squeezes your body, hugging you tighter to him.

“I really missed you, you know?”

You giggle. “Yeah, you said that the third time now.”

“You're keeping count but why can't you just say you miss me too?” He pulls away, making sure to face you so you see the pout on his face.

You peck his lips. “That's because I don't.” You joke, earning a glare.

“Wow, first you say I'm annoying and now you apparently didn't miss me?” You're sure he's joking but the frown on his face makes you think that maybe somewhere in his head, he's thinking otherwise.

You smile at him. “I was just kidding, Kook. Of course I missed you too. And thank you for the food.” You say against his lips, leaning down to kiss him again.

“Does that mean you’re done avoiding me now?”

Breaking away from the kiss, you look at him in surprise, taken aback by his words.

“What?” you say, confused.

Jungkook arches a brow. You both stare into each other’s eyes but then his gets way too intense that you can’t help but look away. That’s when you hear him sigh.

“Baby, talk to me.” Jungkook cups your jaw with his palm, gently directing your face towards his. “I don’t like when we don’t talk. You clearly have something on your mind. What is it? Is it something I can fix?”

Hearing his words makes your heart melt and your brain turn into mush. Is it something I can fix? Jesus.

How can you not fall for him when he says things like that?

“Did I do something wrong?” Jungkook asks when you don’t say a thing.

That earns him an instant, aggressive shake of your head.

“No, Jungkook. You didn’t do anything wrong, not at all,” you say, planting your palms on his shoulders to assure him. You see the slight hint of smile on the curve of his lips. “It’s, uh, it’s me…” you trail off, not sure how to navigate your next words. You take note of the way Jungkook’s eyebrows meet in confusion. “I’ve just been… feeling weird lately.”

At that, his confusion grows even more, but it’s more out of concern instead of perplexity.

“What’s wrong, angel? You don’t feel okay?” He says, caressing your face as if he’ll find the issue there. He looks so willing to just get you to okay and it makes your heart beat a little faster than usual.

“No– I mean, I feel okay. It’s not that,” you shake your head, shy at his doting. When he waits for your next words, you can’t help but bury your face in the crook of his neck as you say— more like whisper— against his skin, “I told you I love you the other day.”

You feel Jungkook stilling under you. And it makes you nervous. Heart racing against your ribcage, you can’t find it in yourself to break away from your hold on him because that would mean you have to look into his eyes – and you don’t want to. Your cheeks feel so hot and you feel like throwing up. Your emotions are all over the place and Jungkook’s prolonged silence isn’t helping at all.

But suddenly, those thoughts die down when you feel him relaxing underneath you, his arms wrapping around your waist. You feel a weight on the crown of your head and with a gentle rub on your back, Jungkook whispers against your hair, “I love you, too.”

That makes you instantly look up from him. When you see his face, his lips are curved into a soft smile.

With furrowed brows, you voice out your concern.

“You don’t need to say it back just ‘cause I told you that.”

Now, it’s Jungkook’s turn to be confused.

“I’m not saying it just ‘cause you said it, baby.” He looks so sincere and for a moment, you feel bad for doubting him for a second. Jungkook must’ve noticed the look on your face as he cups your jaw again, angling it towards him. You feel his smile against your mouth when he presses his lips to yours. “I'm in love with you, __. I have been for the past few months now.”

Your eyes widen a bit when he calls you by your name.

Jungkook has always liked calling you by every endearing pet name in the world that you’re lowkey convinced he forgot your real name at this point, but when the sweet syllable rolls off his tongue, you can’t help but melt.

He doesn’t seem to notice your surprise, though. Just breaks away from the contact you’re both engaged in and he takes your wrist in his hand, lifting it to his face to kiss the skin on the side of your palm.

The action was so momentary and brief but it doesn’t deter the fact that it made your heart jump.

You think it’s funny how you feel so much whenever he’s around. You think it’s funny that you feel so giddy – even after all this time.

You think it’s funny that before the whole thing started, you’ve never considered this ever happening but here you are, completely elated over the fact that you’re in love with Jeon Jungkook and he feels the same way too.

“You have?” You say, voice quiet. He nods, humming, leaning to your palm when you put it over his cheek. “Since when?”

“The first time we went to that abandoned house.”

Your lips part at the declaration. That was… that happened so long ago. Nearly four months from the present.

“That long?” You blink a few times at him, not really sure how to react to that confession.

Jungkook chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to your thumb again. You like how his instinct is to always have a form of physical contact with you whenever you’re around. You don’t know if he knows that himself, but you’ve definitely observed that for the past few months you’ve been “exclusively” seeing each other and it just… absolutely melts you.

“I know… I’m a bit of a coward for not telling you sooner. But I didn’t want to scare you off.” Jungkook says admittedly, and his last sentence makes your heart twinge.

He didn’t want to scare you off. Of course he’d think that. You had a total breakdown at the prospect of him opening up to you just four months ago – before you told him you liked him.

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat. “I— yeah. I was in my head over the past two days, you know?”

Jungkook’s face etches into a look of concern. “Hm?”

Nodding your head slowly, you find comfort in tracing random shapes and lines on his chest instead.

“These feelings… they’re not new. I didn’t just wake up one day and realized I love you. I felt it during the time when we woke up together in bed for the first time at your place. I felt it when you drove three hours from your parents’ house to my dorm just ‘cause I told you I missed you. I felt it when you stayed up late with me just so you could help me make my flash cards. I—” you look away, suddenly embarrassed at what you’re saying. It’s not like you to say so much. Not like you to show and voice out this extent of your emotion. “I remember the times I felt I loved you for the briefest of moments in the past three months, but lately, I can't stop thinking about it and suddenly, I can’t count on my fingers anymore how many times I felt I love you. I loved you every hour of last week and yesterday I loved you even more.”

You watch as Jungkook looks at you with parted lips. Awe-struck? You don’t want to hype yourself up too much. So you look away, keeping your eyes focused on his white shirt.

“And what about today?” Jungkook suddenly speaks.

You free your bottom lip from your teeth and finally look Jungkook in the eyes. “I love you more than I did yesterday. And tomorrow I’ll do the same.”

“Fuck.” Jungkook utters, bowing his head. His tone's a mix of incredulity, amusement, and joy at the same time. When he looks up at you again, he looks at you with so much sparkle in his eyes you’re starting to think you’re a fool for not noticing earlier the love they hold for you in them. “I just… wow.”

Your eyebrows meet in confusion.

Jungkook chuckles and shakes his head. “I just… I had this huge confession in my head, you know? I– uh– I wrote it in my notes app.”

Suddenly, the serious atmosphere breaks as you can’t help but laugh. “What?”

With a small pout, Jungkook continues, “I’m not good with words, you know that. So, I had this big confession planned out. I was gonna tell you in detail how much I love you, but after hearing what you just said… I forgot about everything I tried to memorize last night.”

Now you’re giggling in his lap. Just trying to visualize him typing on his phone while figuring out what to say to you and him studying it, memorizing the lines…

You're so glad it's him you fell for.

“Don’t laugh,” he scolds, but there's a hint of playfulness that lies underneath it. Jungkook inserts his hand under your shirt and starts rubbing the skin of your waist. “Truth is that I was afraid when you started avoiding me. Thought I’d lose you again.”

His vulnerable confession makes you stop completely. There’s a certain melancholy in his eyes when he mentions it, and you feel like scolding yourself for even causing that.

“What I did wasn’t the most mature way to go about it. I’m sorry,” you start. Sighing, you adjust yourself on his lap to get more comfortable. “Uh… I guess I was just embarrassed and wanted to have time to compose myself.”

“What were you embarrassed for?”

There’s heat that spreads to your cheeks. For a brief second, you consider lying, but then you remember honesty. It’s what got you both here. Just being open to each other and communicating.

“Jungkook, no one wants their first I love you said during sex.” You deadpan.

“Oh.” He blinks.

At that, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Exactly.”

“What’s wrong with that, though?” Jungkook furrows his brows. But his tone borders on teasing when he continues, “You know what they say? Make a girl cum one and she’ll love you, make a girl cum twice and she’ll actually tell you she loves you.”

“Oh my god.” you groan, jabbing at his chest slightly and taking off your legs off the couch so that you stop straddling him.

Jungkook bursts into laughter and is quick to grab your waist, effectively pulling you back to him again. It results in you falling haphazardly into his lap, which he takes as an opportunity to cage you in a hug and guide you on your back to hover on top of you.

“I’m kidding, baby,” he whispers against your cheek. “I’m kidding.”

You inhale a sharp breath when he starts kissing along your jaw. “Good.”

“I really appreciate you for saying all those things. I wish I can be as eloquent as you,” He tips your jaw with his fingers so that you look at him. “You’re a poet, __.”

That makes you smile. You secretly like when he calls you by all these petnames... but the way your name rolls of his tongue just hits a lot more different.

“As long as you love me back, Kook.” you say, pushing his bangs off his forehead so that you can look at his face wholly.

“I love you.” He confesses, kissing your lips.

“I love you too.” you smile.

Jungkook pecks your lips one more time and suddenly follows it up with another one. Soon, you’re a giggling mess underneath him on the couch when he keeps it up until it tickles.

“Jungkook,” you whine, wriggling under him and avoiding his mouth.

This only makes Jungkook chuckle in the crook of your neck, halting his cute assault on your lips. When the high of the laughter comes off, you feel a wet trail of kisses down to the base of your neck, and suddenly, Jungkook’s hands are under your shirt, rubbing along the bare skin of your waist. While he peppers open-mouthed pecks on your neck, his fingers trail upwards until they’re on your bare tits.

“Oh,” you let out a low moan when his palm squeezes around the flesh.

It earns a groan from Jungkook, who presses himself closer to you. And it’s when you feel the growing need on his crotch area – his dick poking your stomach as he stays lapping up your neck.

“Jungkook,” you call him again. It takes Jungkook a few seconds to look up at you. When he does, his long hair is a mess on his head and his eyes are hooded in that drunken-like state, lips wet from his previous ministrations.

“Hm?” He hums, gives both your boobs a good squeeze again, making you sigh out. Jungkook continues to touch you, fondling your breasts in his hand as he starts kissing up your jaw instead.

“I want you.” you whisper against the air, closing your eyes at the sensation of his touch.

He feels so good on you. You want to take off your stupid clothes.

“Shit,” Jungkook hisses, giving an involuntary thrust against your crotch that made you both groan. “Fuck. I want you, too, baby— god, let me just—”

You whine when he breaks away from you, but you watch in awe as he makes quick work of kneeling in between your legs, peeling off the white shirt from his body with one arm from the back in a swift motion. He throws it on the floor and swipes his hair out of his face, and in that brief moment, with his toned abdomen and inked arm, you nearly melt.

“Can I take off your shorts?” He asks, but he already has his fingers hooked over the bottom you’ve changed into when you got into his apartment. Giving him a nod, you help him in taking off the garment by lifting your bum off the sofa. Jungkook, ever the expert in the art of taking off your clothes, does it quick, the shorts landing on the floor together with his shirt, forming a small heap. Bottoming out, he takes your thighs in the crook of his elbows and scoot your body closer to his. The angle is a bit awkward from where you lie, and Jungkook makes your cheeks burn when he turns his head to the side to kiss your knee. “So beautiful, baby. Your legs are so smooth.”

“Stop talking,” you say, embarrassed.

Jungkook chuckles at your reaction, already used to it. His face leans even closer and soon he has the tip of his nose on your panty-cladded core. Like clockwork, he takes a subtle sniff, closing his eyes for a little while at the scent, gripping your thighs tighter at the action.

If you weren’t a heating mess before, you’re near on combustion now. Surely, Jungkook knows what this does to you.

“You smell so good. Such a pretty girl,” he grunts. Then, he presses a kiss to your pussy which makes your breath hitch.

“Jungkook,” you let out a whine for the nth time. “Don’t tease.”

He shushes you out, clicking his tongue as if you did something wrong.

You capture your bottom lip in your teeth. Jungkook cups your jaw so you can look at him when he says, “Be patient, princess. I’ll give you what you want. Always.” His voice is gentle and soft, and you know he means it.

Still, you give him a pout.

“I wanna fuck.”

He chuckles, low and sounding so attractive when he brings his fingers through his hair again. It doesn’t help that you can clearly see the outline of his dick getting bigger inside his grey sweats. Damn those joggers for real.

“Okay,” Jungkook smiles down at you. “Take your shirt off.”

You make quick work of removing your shirt off to reveal your naked body to him. At this point, only your underwear and his pants are the only things keeping you apart.

As usual, Jungkook zeroes in on your body instantly, paying the most attention to your tits. According to him, they’re two of his most favorite things in the world and as much as you’d like to call bullshit on that, it really does seem like he’s not joking about it at all.

“Oh, baby,” Jungkook brings your legs down gently, sliding on top of your body and hovering as he quickly fondles your boobs with his huge palms. “Fuck, you’re so soft.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cleavage. Not wasting any more time, he latches his tongue around a nipple, and you automatically hold onto his head for support when the sensation nearly knocks you off the couch.

Despite that little movement from you, Jungkook continues to lap at your breasts. Licking and tugging at your nipple to get it hard, paying attention to the other one by pinching it and simultaneously squeezing. As seconds pass, Jungkook alternates between your breasts, and as he does so, you feel your core starting to heat up, your need growing bigger.

“B-baby,” you sigh out, gripping his hair tighter which makes him grunt. “I want you.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He whispers against your skin. You’re about to whine some more when Jungkook finally leaves your chest to pepper kisses down your stomach. When he gets near your nether region, he guides your legs to hook over his shoulder. “These gotta go.” He says about your panties, and you’re more than willing to help him take it off you.

The moment it's no longer on you, Jungkook hisses at the sight, head leaning down to finally plant his mouth on your pussy.

The first lick feels ecstatic just like it always does. With Jungkook lapping up a big stripe over the length of your core, you keep your bucking to a minimum, holding onto his hair instead.

“Taste so fucking good, I can never get enough of you,” he says before he dives in again. Jungkook has this thing when he eats pussy. He always does it like he’s making out with your mouth, his tongue prodding at every seams, wrapping your labia around his lips and being messy with it.

Jungkook breaks away for a while as you hear a sound of spit, followed by the cold sensation of his saliva dripping down to your hole. Soon, you feel Jungkook’s thumb beginning to rub your clit, resulting in a ragged breathing from your lungs.

“F-fuck,” you moan, tightening your hold on his hair you’re sure you’re pulling on his scalp.

“You’re so fucking wet for me. So sensitive,” Jungkook says as he picks up the pace of his thumb. “Ain’t that right, pretty girl? All for me, right? This is all for me, hm?”

“Y-yes!” you squeak out when you feel him prodding his tongue at your entrance again. His finger is fast against your sensitive bud, with his tongue lapping up the juices that eagerly come out of your hole. Jungkook makes out with your pussy like he would with your mouth, and with the tip of his nose touching your skin at this proximity, you can't say you’re not close to the edge. And embarrassingly so – because he’s just gotten started and you already feel like cumming.

“Sh–shit,” Jungkook hisses. He shifts his thumb with his tongue this time in stimulating your clit, using two fingers instead to stretch your pussy out open just so he can see the way it throbs and flutters at his every action. It’s a sinful sight, really, the way you’re so open and wet for him.

Soon after, Jungkook’s getting a little more aggressive in the way he pushes his head closer to your core, jaw working to devour your mound, two digits inserting themselves in your aching hole that somehow satisfies your need to be filled at the very moment.

And you’re a panting mess beneath him – trying so hard to muffle the moans from your mouth. Jungkook’s gotten a total of three noise complaints for the past 4 months you’ve been fucking at his place – and even though he tells you not to worry, you find that it’s hard to believe when the one time that you got to ride in the elevator with his neighbor, she looked at you both like she knew you’ve done something.

Never again.

As if having read your thoughts, Jungkook breaks away for a while to say, “Don’t hold back, gorgeous. Let me hear those pretty moans of yours.”

Your cheeks burn with heat as you see his wet jaw and plump lips when you glance down. When your gazes meet, Jungkook inserts his middle and ring fingers in his mouth, and when he pops them back out all wet with his saliva, he pushes them into your hole, lax in his movements, looking right into your eyes as he does so.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, holding onto his wrist automatically when he pumps his digits into you faster than his pace earlier.

“There,” Jungkook smirks. “Moan for me, angel.”

“J-jungkook– oh my god– ah–!”

Jungkook goes back to leaning his head down and soon enough, his mouth is back on your pussy, simultaneously sucking your clit and licking around your labia, all the whole sliding his fingers in and out of you, you can feel yourself dripping down the leather of his couch.

“Fuck,” you sigh out, suddenly feeling overstimulated.

Jungkook picks up his pace and you feel a sting on the sides of your eyes as the pleasure begins to build up. Your hold on his wrist falls off and as if he knows exactly what you’re looking for, he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlocking your fingers together as you see him look up at you while he eats you out.

“Oh god,” you mewl, reaching down with your other arm to swipe his fringes off his forehead so you can see him better.

Jungkook stares intently at you as you do the same watching him licking your core enthusiastically. You let your head fall back at a particularly delicious lick, and soon after, you feel that familiar zap that starts on your toes that goes right up to your stomach.

“K-kook,” you call pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat. It feels somewhat dry at this point. Closing your eyes, you focus on the sensation of his tongue flicking your clit, saying, “I’m cumming.”

Jungkook keeps his movements of your pussy, not relenting even when you grab his hair a little too tight, and you feel like you’re breaking off his fingers’ joints by the way you’re gripping it so hard.

“I’m cum– there, fuck, that feels so good– I’m cumming!”

The knot in your stomach snaps and you feel a gush of wetness coming out of your pussy when it does so. You hear Jungkook groaning in between your legs, his licking becoming more messy as you feel him use three fingers to rub over your core like a greedy man wanting everything to be his.

“Jungkook…” you sigh out, your fingers easing their hold onto his, already feeling sensitive after your release. You look down at Jungkook only to see the crown of his head as keeps lapping up your wetness. He hums in your pussy and you know you can’t keep him off there for awhile so you wait, running your fingers through his hair soothingly, feeling bad for almost ripping it out awhile ago. “Kook, I’m sensitive.”

“Hm.” He hums to acknowledge you. He licks one last stripe before he lets go, easing off your thighs on the sofa and trailing kisses on your stomach and breasts until he’s eye level to you. “Love how you taste,” he says, kissing you, and your cheeks burn with heat when you feel your orgasm off his mouth. When he breaks the kiss, he looks at you with a smile you can only identify as lovesick. “I love you.”

That makes you melt.

You thought it would feel weird to hear him say it. But you think about the future and how there would be more like this, with Jungkook telling you he loves you in more shared random moments and you can’t help but mirror the smile he has on his stupid handsome face.

“I love you.” you say, initiating another kiss.

When Jungkook presses his body to you, that’s when you feel his cock poking into your stomach. You assume he’s even more rock hard now, given the previous events.

Sneakily inserting your hand between your bodies, you try to reach for the bulge in his pants and when you take a hold of his dick, Jungkook grunts.

“Babe,” he whines and breaks away from your lips and buries his face in the crook of your neck instead.

“It’s completely unfair how you still have your pants on while I’m completely naked.” You say, palming him through his sweats. You feel Jungkook tense above you, and when you give him a particularly hard squeeze, he retaliates with a bite on your shoulder that makes you squeal. “What the hell was that for?”

“For teasing me,” Jungkook says, finally looking at you. He grabs your arm, kisses the side of your wrist before he hauls himself off you completely, planting his feet on the floor while you lay there on the couch bare and cold. But that doesn’t last long as you feel him picking you up with ease — bridal style.

“Jesus,” you bury your face in his chest out of embarrassment. You’re all naked and he’s carrying you towards his bedroom in this ridiculous position.

Meanwhile, Jungkook just laughs and as he reaches his bedroom, he closes the door lightly with his foot.

“I’m not done with you yet,” He says when he puts you down on the mattress. He has that smarmy smirk on his face as he gets out of his grey sweatpants slowly. You’ve had the inkling he wasn’t wearing any underwear considering that it felt like there was not that much of a barrier when you held them there earlier – but it still takes your breath away when he’s left completely in his naked form, stiff and red-tipped cock standing to attention in his lower abdomen. Arching a brow at you, he trudges over to the edge of the bed and with the deep timbre of his voice, he calls you, “Scoot over here, love.”

The new endearment definitely catches you off guard. Love. Is that something he’s gonna be calling you from now on?

You definitely don’t mind.

You follow his instructions and let your body move closer towards the bottom, making Jungkook hum in approval.

“That’s a good girl.” Suddenly, Jungkook yanks your legs to his direction and you gasp in surprise, only to realize the position you’re both in.

He’s standing right over the edge of the bed while he guides your legs to rest over his shoulders.

Jungkook and you have tried a lot of positions since you established your thing, but surprisingly, this has never been one of them and you find yourself curious as to what he’ll do next.

His tattooed bicep flexes as he trails his finger up your naked thighs, making the hairs on your body tingle, especially your pussy which is all bare for his own viewing. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you watch as Jungkook turns his head to the side, and a gasp catches in your throat when he begins kissing up your calf. When his mouth nears your toes, you nearly yank it out of his hold.

“K-kook,” you stammer, but all Jungkook does is pay you a momentary look and a non-committal hum, turning back to your feet again where he presses a tentative kiss to your big toe. When he feels you wriggle it in his hold once again, he turns to you with furrowed brows. You look away. “It’s uhm…”

When you don’t say anything, Jungkook fills you in. “You don’t like it?”

You feel your cheeks burning even hotter. Fucking hell.

“No– I mean. Uh. I don’t know?” You knit your brows, confused yourself. You’ve never really thought about dabbling into the more adventurous aspect of sex but Jungkook has changed that ever since – right now, though, what he’s trying to do is confusing you. You’re sure you’ve never thought about feet and sex at the same sentence – but when Jungkook kissed your toes, that might have—

Oh god. No freaking way he’s trying to give you a foot kink.

“That’s okay,” Jungkook smiles at you warmly. “I was just gonna kiss them, baby. I love every part of you—” he presses a kiss back to your calf again. Staring deep into your eyes, he tells you gently, “But I’m not gonna do anything you don’t and won’t like, love.”

It seems like the new unlocked petname is doing all things because you could just feel the sudden gush of wetness coming out of you as soon as he said that. Jungkook must’ve noticed, paying a quick look to your pussy and scoffing in amusement as he sees it.

“You like that? Love? Hm?” He caresses your thighs again, his other fingers trailing dangerously close to your core. “Seems like me calling you love gets you wet. What about I love you? Does it get you wet just like how it gets me hard when you say it as well?”

When Jungkook presses his thumb to your clit again, you moan, feeling him continue his ministrations. You hold your breath when he begins picking up the pace of his rubbing, and with your position, it gives you an opportunity to spread your legs even more, feeling Jungkook hiss at the action.

“Fuck. You really are so pretty. I’m so fucking lucky you love me,” Jungkook says. He talks sweet but you hear a sound of spit coming from him to your pussy, his saliva dripping down your core, making you mewl. “I’m gonna make love to you all night. Show you how much I love you.” Jungkook whispers as he pushes a finger into your hole, sliding in and out. “Look at what you do to me, love.”

You open your eyes to see what he’s talking about, and when you zero in on his cock, it impossibly became bigger, the tip an angry shade of red now. It looks so tight and rigid and veiny that you want to whine to touch it – but you decide to lay still, anticipating his next move.

“Put it in me,” you say, sounding challenging.

“I will, just gotta make sure you’re all ready.” Jungkook muses before he inserts his finger once again. It glides in pretty easily, and you’re sure that you’re more than ready to take his cock.

Grunting, Jungkook pulls you closer and lets go of one of your thighs to grip his dick. He gives it a good squeeze twice before he puts it against the lips of your pussy.

“Oh god,” you moan at the weight of him.

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses. You know he’s feeling the exact same way you do.

When he prods the tip at your entrance, you nearly squeal in delight. Instead, you grip the sheets behind you and look at the way Jungkook’s brows knit in concentration as he grips the base of his cock to enter you fully.

You both moan in unison when the first inch gets inserted, with Jungkook gripping your other thigh tighter and inhaling a sharp breath. Jungkook enters you slowly and arduously, like he’s savoring every second that your pussy swallows every part of his cock.

“You– fuck– you love a big cock but you’re so fucking tight,” He groans as he begins to slide in the remaining inches, getting both your thighs together again.

“It’s your fault,” you retaliate, hissing when he begins to move a little inside you. It doesn’t hurt the least bit – you were already way too wet from your first orgasm on the couch of his living room – but in this position, his cock feels deeper and it just feels so damn good.

“How is it– shit– my fault?” Jungkook grunts, beginning to pick up his pace. “I fuck you almost everyday.”

“Oh god—” you moan when he hits a little too deep at a particular thrust. “You’re so big, that’s why– fuck.”

“Hah.” Jungkook scoffs, bottoming out to enter you again. “Play with your tits for me, baby. Fuck, I love them so much.”

You grab your breasts, thankful at the suggestion because they’re bouncing a little from his pounding and you’re sure they’re gonna be sore the next day.

Needless to say, Jungkook likes what he sees as he continues to slide his cock in and out of you at a steady, slow pace.

There are two sides to Jungkook when it comes to sex. Sometimes, he likes to do it fast with jackhammer thrusts that makes you question his stamina and strength – not rough, because he told you you’re too much of a pillow princess for that (you rolled your eyes at him so hard and he only laughed at you, telling you it’s actually because he didn’t like the thought of hurting you in any way), and you admittedly love that. It’s what got the words “I love you” out of your mouth in the first place. Intense fucking coupled with intense emotions are a combination you now realize is dangerous – but right now, as he pounds into you slowly, making you feel every ridge of his cock, you realize it’s your favorite.

There’s something so intimate about the way Jungkook closes his eyes when he seemingly tries his very best to contain his strength as he enters you with his dick. It’s weirdly hot when he inhales a sharp breath to regulate his breathing, brows furrowed in concentration. Like this, you get to feel every moment of where you both started and where you end.

And when Jungkook leans down on the bed, folding you in half at the action, his dick hits deeper as he plants his palms on the mattress, is cock continuing their ministrations in your cunt.

He grunts in your hair, grabbing your breast and squeezing it hard in his palm which earns a moan from you. Jungkook looks at you and kisses your parted mouth.

“I love you,” he says when he breaks away, kissing your cheek. Then the tip of your nose. And then the space between your eyebrows. “I love you so much.”

You giggle. In the middle of sex. When his cock is snug deep in your pussy.

“You’re a sap.” you can’t help but cup his face in your hand, grinning at him widely.

“Where’s my– shit– I love you back?” Jungkook knits his brows, thrusting in and out of you still. He grips your hip with one hand, and there are balls of sweat on his forehead starting to form at the exertion from his body.

“Of course I love you too, baby,” You say. “Kiss me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait any more second and leans down to capture your lips into an open-mouthed kiss. You don’t break away until his hips stutter, indicating his impending orgasm.

He’s usually the one who whispers all those sweet nothings in your ear when you’re on the brink of your climax, but this time around, you tell him how much you love his cock, how it’s made for you, and how much you want to keep making love to him all night – and that’s how he breaks.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook groans as he shoots his hot white orgasm inside you, his voice strained as he finishes off with a few more erratic thrusts. “Oh god.”

“That’s it, Kook, cum for me,” you whisper against his lips, your legs already sliding off his shoulder. You can’t help but moan against his mouth when you feel him cumming more.

“I love you, angel.” Jungkook says and kisses you again.

You reciprocate the kiss and hope he feels the smile you have on your lips.

You don’t really expect to cum again – but then Jungkook suddenly palms your ass and taps both cheeks.

“Cum for me a second time.” He says, pecking the side of your lips.

You shake your head. As much as you’d love to, you feel like you’re actually about to break tonight.

“It’s fine—”

But Jungkook cuts you off quickly. “Please?”

And how can you say now when he looks like… that? His sex afterglow puts every man in the movies to shame. And you’re just human prone to giving in – especially when it comes to him specifically.

“Okay.” You say, tapping his cheek with a smile. “How do you want me?”

“Want you to ride me.” He whispers. “Wanna see your pretty eyes while you’re bouncing on my cock.”

You ignore the flutter in your heart at his words.

Jabbing at his chest lightly, you roll your eyes at him and let him get off you to position himself against the headboard of the bed. Jungkook grins when you soon plant your folded legs on both sides of him, helping you put his still erect dick inside your still sopping wet pussy.

You both hiss at the sensation, with you closing your eyes at the way he feels. Meanwhile, Jungkook doesn’t waste any second and dives into your breasts immediately, tugging and sucking at your nipples, squeezing and fondling at the flesh, and moaning when you begin to move up and down on his lap.

“S-so good,” you mewl, wrapping your arms around his neck, fumbling with the hair on his nape.

“That’s it, love. Doing so well.” He leaves your breasts in favor of your jaw, peppering kisses there until he makes a stop at your lips again. Jungkook finds solace in holding your hips as you move on your own, and as he watches your closed eyes and parted mouth, he leans back to the headboard, looking at the image of you at the very moment – wishing he could burn it into memory.

“My god– ah—” You begin to speed up your pace, concentrating on the way Jungkook’s cock seemingly hardens at your every drop and fall.

Soon after, you feel Jungkook sneaking his hands in your pussy, and when you plant one of your palms on the mattress leaning back, Jungkook rubs your clit to help you reach your climax.

You feel yourself leaking on him from both your orgasms in your pussy earlier, and at the thought of that, you feel another wave of ecstasy that snaps in the bottom part of your stomach.

“Oh my fucking god.”

You bury your face in Jungkook’s neck the moment you cum, breathing erratically against his skin.

“You did so well, baby,” Jungkook kisses your hair, caressing your head lovingly. “I love you.”

Humming, you let your body fall lax against his, feeling like your bones just lost all its joints, unable to move. Thankfully, there’s Jungkook to take care of that. When you refused to move, he teases you about being a baby and carries you to the bathroom instead where he tells you to pee while he prepares the shower for the both of you.

Minutes later when you’re both done cleaning yourselves, you lay in Jungkook’s bed beside each other. Or more like, you lean almost all of your weight on top of him, your legs and arms wrapped around his body with Jungkook’s arms underneath your neck, serving as your pillow.

“I think I just unlocked a new kink.” Jungkook says, alternating between kissing your forehead and caressing your head.

“You discover one, like, everyday.” You tell him, eyes shut closed. You’re starting to feel sleepy from everything you did tonight.

Jungkook snorts. “Fair. But for the record, nothing beats this new kink of mine.”

“What is it?”

“The I love you kink.”

Even if you can’t exactly see him, you’re sure he has that stupid cute bunny grin on his face.

Chuckling, you say, “God, you really are so corny.”

“Hey, can a boyfriend not be turned on when his girlfriend says she loves him?”

At that, you freeze. Jungkook must’ve noticed because he stops caressing your head. You move away from his chest and lean on your elbow so you can look down at him.

“We’re girlfriend and boyfriend now?” You ask with knitted brows.

Jungkook looks just as confused. “I mean… yeah?”

“Oh.” You nod. Looking to the other side of the room, you ponder, “Well, that makes sense.”

Jungkook looks offended when your gaze falls back to him again. “What do you mean that makes sense? We’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend since you told me you liked me.”

“You told me you liked me too,” You roll your eyes. “But… really? You think that?”

Now, Jungkook’s pouting.

“Wait, you didn’t think we were boyfriend and girlfriend all these months?”

“Eh…” You think about the past four months since you both established an exclusive relationship with each other. You’ve always thought it was just this unlabeled thing. But apparently… “I guess we are boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“I literally introduced you to my friends as my girlfriend last month, though?” Jungkook asks.

You jut your bottom lip out. “I have no idea.”

He sighs. “Forget about it.”

“It’s okay. I love you.” You say, blinking at him.

Jungkook visibly melts at that.

“I think you just found a new way to get away with anything…” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

You snicker and cheekily press a quick kiss to his lips.

There haven't been a lot of people who have come to your life that became important to you – and you didn’t expect Jeon Jungkook to be one if it – not at all. But what started as a casual relationship turned into more than that, and now you find yourself deeply in love with him – and happily so.

Meanwhile, Jungkook thinks the same as he caresses your hair, staring at your serene face while you sleep in his arms, thinking it couldn’t get any better than this.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #fic: cnbl #cnbl drabbles

2K notes · View notes

verstapwn · 2 months ago

Text

「 SUMMARY 」 — Red Bull's rich girl & Red Bull's golden boy are dating and everyones surprised.

「 PAIRINGS 」 — max verstappen x nepo baby!reader

「 WARNINGS 」 — suggestive, lestappen sex jokes lol, checo slander?.

「 AUTHOR'S NOTE 」 — y/n the founder of idgafstan. of course the title comes from one of my favorite frank ocean songs, super rich kids. y/n's dad is like the Lawrence stroll in this au, so she's a nepo baby (not a driver).

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 991,531 others! yourusername we don't talk about my boyfriends thighs enough. ＠maxverstappen1

view comments

maxverstappen1 MARK L/N IF YOU SEE THIS, THAT WASN'T THE IMAGE / CAPTION WE AGREED ON.. DON'T FIRE ME PLEASE

➥ yourusername BOOO. 🍅🍅 VERTHIGHS SUPREMACY ➥ redbullracing Y/n.. - Mark L/N ➥ yourusername get an actual instagram you old geezer (love you dad)

user loser trapped in a hot girls body

user THESE PHOTOS OF YOUU >>>

user its always vertiddies... but never verthighs </3

➥ yourusername YOU GET IT!! ➥ maxverstapen1 stop obsessing over my thighs. ➥ yourusername you didn't tell me that last night 🤨 ➥ maxverstappen1 Y/NLSMLASJO

user y/n putting her boyfriends job on the line is so funny to me especially when you remember her dad is his boss

➥ user winning the idgaf war fr ➥ user founding mother of idgafstan even

user this is a random combo but not a rando combo but also.. a random combo

user whole time people were shipping her with ethan cutkosky for her to be dating max.. insanity

charles_leclerc ignoring the caption.. and the max photo, you guys are cute! ❤️

➥ yourusername be honest, do yall explore each others bodies after races ➥ charles_leclerc blocked and reported. (NO WE DONT)

landonorris still can't believe i wasn't the first to know about this relationship.. i thought we were friends y/n💔

➥ yourusername i'll give you $3,000 to shut up already ➥ landonorris deal, cash app it to me

redbullracing we don't talk about YOU enough.

➥ redbullracing shit wrong account, don't fire me christian.. or mark. pls. ➥ yourusername I GOT YOUR BACK ADMIN #TRUST. 🫡

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 1,326,493 others! maxverstappen1 My girlfriend everyone.. <3 ＠yourusername

view comments

yourusername no fun caption :( i am wounded </3

➥ maxverstappen1 sorry schatz.. i actually like my job to keep it! ➥ yourusername no worries, i'll just post our messages :) ➥ maxverstappen1 Y/N PLEASE NO ➥ user what are these messages...???? HELLO??

user again, loser inside a hot body

user shes so gorgeous sobs

➥ maxverstappen1 I KNOW RIGHT

user idk if i wanna be her or max...

user my favorite nepo baby couple

yourusername WAIT HOLD ON HOW DID THIS GET 1M LIKES BUT MINE GOT LIKE 900K? NAH GIMME MY LIKES BRO.

➥ charles_leclerc you're not as cool as max 🫵🏻 ➥ yourusername oh so you doing the bending?? ➥ charles_leclerc WHAT???

user THE MACBOOK PHOTO ARGHH

user i'm so glad you two ended up together. even though no one was expecting it.

landonorris blink if you're being held captive by this woman

➥ maxverstappen1 😑😐😑.... ➥ yourusername ur fired. ➥ maxverstappen1 You can't fire me, I'm afraid ! ➥ yourusername you're right.. ＠redbullracing dad, fire this man ➥ redbullracing Unless you're able to find us another driver, No. - Mark & Christian ➥ yourusername CHRISTIAN YOU HAVE AN INSTAGRAM.

user can't wait for the verstappen-l/n family photos

user i say we make y/n the red bull formula 1 team principal

➥ yourusername bad idea cus i'd sabotage sergio too much (allegedly) :/ ➥ schecoperez Oh. ➥ yourusername my bad fam, free dinner spot at my house ig

yourusername hey you're pretty cool, we should like make out in my room or whatever

➥ maxverstappen1 Yeah sure or whatever c'mere gorgeous ➥ user i love you guys sm, pls don't die on friday 💔 ➥ yourusername .. are you the killer?? WHATS GOING ON FRIDAY?? ➥ maxverstappen1 ??? HELLO

yourusername show the verthighs

➥ maxverstappen1 You don't give up do you? ➥ yourusername no and you love it! 😁 ➥ maaxverstappen1 yeah i do 💙

welcome to my first fic! i hope you enjoyed everything :) <3 the faceclaim i used for 'y/n' is meret manon bannerman from katseye! she's gorg. not much i have to say tbh. see you in the next fic —— DELIA.

#୨ৎ. max verstappen.#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x black reader #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fluff #formula 1 x black reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x black reader #formula one x you #formula one smau

576 notes · View notes

featheredpansexual · 2 years ago

Text

Sorry not sorry to be putting this person on fucking blast but this is the most wild fucking take ever oh my god lmao

protip you can just not interact with these posts if you don't like to see them. lmao.

maybe it’s cuz i’m getting older but i’m thoroughly unamused by how every media consumption is being reduced solely to ships and the desire to have people date each other. what’s wrong with friendships. what’s wrong with found family. what’s wrong with roommates. what’s wrong with mentor relationships. why is the end goal of everything to have two+ people be shipped together.

#acting like fellow queer people are the same ones planning to take away ur human rights for being queer #protip not everyone out there is going for ur jugular #also this is in response to someone saying that in order for queer relationships w men to be more normailzed we have to normalize #men being kind/loving to each other in a platonic way #and im. reading comprehension is out the window goddamn #HEY QUEER PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS MATTER AS WELL AND THIS IS AN OBSERVATION OF FANDOM BEHAVIOR AS WHOLE #not someone going 'fuck you for shipping gay couples in fandom'#GUESS WHOS ALSO UNDERREPRESENTED? ACE AND ARO PEOPLE. (has flashbacks to ace discouse (not experienced firsthand)#and the bullshit ppl spewed abt it not 'actually being queer')#thats not what this replyer is saying but goddamn if it doesnt also remind me of that line of discourse #edit: okok last bit before i stop putting effort into a misc post on toomblr .com #but goddamn really shows how cagey ppl get over shipping if their reaction is this hostile towards someone just saying.#hey maybe we should focus on platonic relationships more #'WELL THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD BE MAKING THE CONTENT URSELF HUH????' guess what. people fucking are. not the point of the post.#point is people gravitate towards ship content more and yeah. some people are tired of it.#doesnt mean someone's pointing a gun at ur head saying to stop making content u like. goddamn #anyways op ur correct sorry for the braindead takes in the notes <3 #EDIT EDIT: OK I LIED. just a minor correction tho that screenshot wasnt in reply of op's reply like i mentioned earlier #it was. the og post. lmao.

12K notes · View notes

theemporium · 8 months ago

Text

[1.7k] they want to believe jack when he says he has a girlfriend. they really do. it's just kind of hard to do so when they never see her. or, in which everyone is worried jack has found himself in a parasocial relationship.

“Fuck.”

Jack raised his head, finding his attention drawn to his captain sitting on the aisle across from him on the bus. He watched as the man began patting himself down before he let out a sigh, standing up to reach for his bag on the overhead shelf. Yet, whatever he was trying to find was a fruitless endeavour as he settled back in his seat with a frown on his face.

“You good?”

“Hm,” Nico hummed, letting out another long breath as he leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I just forgot my headphones.”

“Nico Hischier not being organised?” Jack teased, a smile growing on his face. “Someone alert the authorities.”

Nico huffed out a laugh. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“Just messin’ with you, cap,” Jack mused, deciding to be the better person and not point out the fact he could see Nico’s dimple even if the boy tried to act like he wasn’t laughing. “Here, I’ll share my music with you. Because I’m nice like that.”

The older boy raised his brows. “Your music for the full five hour drive?”

Jack raised his brows in return. “Do you have anything else better to do?”

“Fair enough,” Nico murmured before he reached over, taking the airpod and slipping it into his ear. “But I get to add some songs too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack waved him off before handing over his phone. “Maybe try more English rap songs so I can understand them too, yeah?”

“Sure, because I’m nice like that,” Nico said with a grin before he turned to shift his attention to Jack’s phone. He clicked on the queue, his brows furrowing slightly when he saw the songs lined up. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Nico murmured. “I just thought you were a country music kind of guy. Never thought you’d be into the rock scene.”

Jack’s cheeks burned as he let out a slightly strained laugh. “I was, uh, broadening my horizons.”

Nico turned to look at him. “So you chose one band? You know, I know a couple of bands if you want them—”

“I’m fine with that band,” Jack said, flashing his captain a smile.

“You’ve liked every one of their songs.”

“Mhm.”

“So, you know you like the genre, at least. Maybe you should try—”

“I’m good.”

“Jack—”

“Start queuing songs before I take my phone back, Hisch.”

Nico stared at him for a few moments, noting the way he fidgeted in his seat with his cheeks flushed far brighter than they should be with the bus AC blasting. But, Nico decided he would be nice this time around and not bring it up.

Not yet, at least.

Plus the band Jack had chosen was pretty good, if he did say so himself.

...

liked by jackhughes and 837,278 others

yourusername ready to rock north america❤️🖤

view all 13,738 comments

user i am going to the nashville show!!!

user she is THE moment

user omg i can't believe the tour has already started

user BKEWBFJBWEKFBKWEJBF

jackhughes congrats on the tour!! ur gonna kill it!!❤️‍🔥

user JACK HUGHES????

user who the fuck is jack hughes?

...

“What are you giggling at?”

“I’m not giggling at anything.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You literally giggled as you said that.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Unfortunately for Luke, this had been a recurring conversation over the last few weeks because, despite what he said, Jack spent the better part of his free time giggling at his phone. It was sickening and annoying and Luke was so done with trying to scroll through TikTok with his brother snickering like some teenage girl in the background.

It was starting to grate on his last nerve.

“You’re so full of shit,” Luke grumbled as he shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, narrowing his eyes on his big brother from over the kitchen counter.

“Maybe you should find someone to text and stop bothering me,” Jack retorted, the words slipping past his lips so casually, almost like he hadn’t realised what he said.

But Luke heard loud and clear.

He straightened up in his seat, his annoyance now replaced with curiosity and he flashed his brother an inquisitive look. “Who are you messaging that has you giggling?”

“I am not giggling,” Jack huffed out before he lifted his head, finally looking away from his phone screen to catch his brother’s gaze. “And, for your information, I am texting my girlfriend.”

A few moments of silence passed as both boys stared at each other.

Luke blinked. “When the fuck did you get a girlfriend?”

“It’s new,” Jack said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “How new?”

“Just a couple of months or so,” Jack murmured, at least having the guts to look a little sheepish as a light blush spread across his cheeks.

“Months?!” Luke repeated with a scoff, the bowl of cereal he was snacking on now long forgotten. “How come this is the first time I’m hearing of it?”

“We are keeping things private!” Jack defended.

“I’m your brother!” Luke retorted. “You’re meant to tell me shit. I’d tell you if I had a girlfriend! Quinn would tell me if he had a girlfriend!”

“But neither of you do,” he snapped back with a shit-eating grin.

“And you supposedly do,” Luke muttered, shaking his head. “What’s her name?”

“That’s not important.”

Luke blinked. “Uh, yeah, dude, I think it is.”

Jack shrugged again. “Maybe I don’t want you to know.”

“Why not?” Luke questioned, watching his brother just shrug again—not that he was getting fucking sick of that or anything—before he glared. “Is it someone I know?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re being ridiculously vague right now and it’s annoying as fuck,” Luke told him.

Jack’s grin widened. “I know!”

“Fine, keep your stupid secrets,” Luke grumbled as he reached for his spoon again, rolling his eyes when he heard Jack laughing. “Like I fucking care anyways.”

But he did.

He really fucking did and he would find out who this secret girlfriend was if it’s the last thing he did.

...

liked by jackhughes and 213,839 others

yourusername las vegas, you ALWAYS make me feel at home❤️🖤

view 12,930 comments

user MOTHER!!!

user hot AND talented. your fav could never

user new music when!!!

user THE SHIRT-

jackhughes ur so pretty😍😍😍

user not this guy again

user not a man

notzegrasipromise JACK???

...

“Yeah, I mean, I love my parents but I wish my girlfriend could’ve made it out. It would have been nice to have her here for the family skate too.”

That was all it took for the hustling and bustling of the locker room to come to a screeching halt.

Jack frowned, his hands holding his jersey in his hand that he had just taken off as he glanced around the room. All of the boys were giving him different looks: some concerned, some amused, some confused. It was throwing him off.

“Uh, what?”

“You have a girlfriend?” It was Dawson who eventually asked, his brows furrowed together in questioning.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, feeling an odd sense of deja vu from the conversation he had with Luke a few weeks ago. “Geez, I didn’t realise we had to announce stuff like this now.”

“I mean,” Jesper spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re close, yeah? We usually just tell each other these things. You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Don’t bother asking for her name,” Luke grumbled from the other side of the locker room.

“She’s not coming to the family skate?” Nico questioned, focusing the attention back to Jack who simply shrugged.

“She travels a bunch for work,” Jack explained. “Or, at least, for right now. She’s out in Nashville right now so she couldn’t make it.”

“But I thought you were all over that rockstar girl,” Simon spoke up from his stall, leaning back against the cubby, half dressed and legs spread. “Every time I open Twitter, I see it.”

Jack’s cheeks burned.

Jesper gave him a disapproving look. “Don’t tell me you’ve been commenting on another girl’s instagram when you have a girlfriend. What does she think about it?”

“She likes them!” Jack defended.

Jesper frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of desperate on instagram,” Simon continued with a snort.

“Well, she hasn’t told me to stop,” Jack huffed.

“Yes, because a rockstar with a couple of million followers would personally reach out to stop you,” Luke drawled, a heavy layer of sarcasm dripping from his words.

“She would, considering she is my girlfriend.”

Once again, the locker room fell silent.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” Luke eventually spoke up, shaking his head. “You really think we believe that you pulled her?”

Jack frowned. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”

“She’s an international rockstar and you’re just a dude who plays hockey,” Luke retorted.

“So are you!”

“Yeah, and I’m not sitting here trying to tell people I’m dating Taylor Swift, am I?”

“This is different,” Jack huffed before looking around the room. “I’m dating her! I really am! We met at that rock bar in Jersey City a couple of months ago and we’ve been chatting ever since.”

The boys all gave each other various looks.

“Fine, don’t believe,” Jack grumbled as he leaned down to start untying his skates. “I know I’m telling the truth. It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.”

For the record, only Jim and Ellen Hughes showed up to the New Jersey Devils’ family skate.

...

liked by jackhughes and 362,373 others

yourusername east coast, we are coming for you!!❤️🖤

view all 14,737 comments

user i cannot believe the tour is almost over

user NEW MUSIC WHEN

user i'm seeing you in eight days!!!!

user oh my god she is so hot

jackhughes coming back to the better coast❤️🖤

user omg he is copying the hearts too

user he is delusional

user it is the devils colours

user you sound just as delusional as him

...

“So, I’ve been talking to Luke.”

“Oh great,” Jack grumbled as he sunk further into the pillows of the living room couch.

“And I went on Twitter.”

“You must have been pretty bored to redownload it,” Jack commented, suddenly finding interest in the strings of his hoodie, instead of his brother’s face on the phone screen. He should have known it was odd when Quinn messaged to check he was home alone before he called.

“Jack.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jack whined as he tried to hide himself deeper into his hoodie. “Whatever Luke told you is bullshit.”

“So you’re not telling people you’re dating an international rock sensation?”

“Well, I’m not telling everyone,” Jack corrected. “But I am dating her!”

“Uh huh.”

“Not you too,” Jack groaned, throwing his head back and finding his gaze locked on some random part of the ceiling. “Quinn, why would I lie about this?”

“Because you took a rough hit to the head.”

His head quickly snapped down to glare at his older brother who had the audacity to smirk in response.

“We’re just worried, Jack. You don’t mention a single thing about talking to her. Then you’re showing up in her comments. And then you’re claiming to date her. All whilst playing and training like normal.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine if you have a little crush or something but—”

“She isn’t just a crush, she’s my girlfriend,” Jack repeated for the umpteenth time. “You’ll see soon.”

Quinn didn’t look awfully convinced but he knew better than to push Jack on the matter any further. He instead shifted the conversation to a power play from the game before and, thankfully, Jack took the bait. In fact, he was far too busy rambling to even notice Quinn typing out a message straight to Luke.

quinnifer: ur right

quinnifer: he’s a fucking lost cause

...

liked by jackhughes and 983,373 others

yourusername tour was a dream but happy to finally come home to you jackhughes ❤️🖤

view all 37,373 comments

jackhughes glad to have my girl home❤️🖤

user WHAT

user a hard launch post tour??? oh she is sick

user i can't believe we lost her to a man

user IS THIS NOT THE HOCKEY DUDE

user omg he actually stood a chance

trevorzegras WHAT THE FUCK

trevorzegras WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

user omg one sings rock and the other plays at the rock

user IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS

lhughes_06 holy shit

_quinnhughes didn't see that one coming

trevorzegras HOW WHAT WHEN WHERE WHY

user i think hockey dude broke his hockey friend

jackhughes he will be fine

trevorzegras NO HE WILL NOT BE FINE

trevorzegras ANSWER YOUR PHONE ROWDY

jackhughes leave me alone, i'm trying to spend time with my girlfriend

yourusername it's true :) very little clothes included

trevorzegras i'm going to go throw myself off a cliff

user what the fuck did i just wake up to

#jack hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes fic #jack hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

2K notes · View notes

deathbxnny · 4 days ago

Note

hey i was wondering if you could do how arcane characters would react to seeing their partner looking really good dressed up?? also i love ur writing!!

Arcane characters reacting to their s/o dressed up really pretty. | Vi, Ekko, Jinx x Gn!Reader

Thank you for the request, Anon, and I hope you'll enjoy this!!<3

Content: Established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VI

"Ooh... where are we going?" A wide grin rested on her lips as she watched you put on your fancy shoes and straighten out the last details of your pretty attire. "I'm going out with a couple friends." In other words, she was not invited. But Vi couldn't hear you over the sound of her mind spinning with many different thoughts.

Humming, she leaned against a wall next to you, intensely dark eyes staring you down with a glint that made you shake your head in defiance. "No." "Oh come on, Cupcake! Do you really have to go out today? I mean... I can go along. It's dangerous around this time of the night and-" "-Viiii. I can take care of myself." She pouted at your clear disagreement, hardly attempting to even hide how much she loved the way you looked.

"Aw... please? At least let me tag alone so I can show you off to everyone." Typical. And yet, you had a hard time denying her anything when her hands suddenly sneaked around your waist so smoothly. She always got what she wanted out of you in the end. Not that you necessarily minded.

"Fineeee... but keep your hands to yourself around them." You huff out whilst your heart warmed a t the sight of pure excitement on her face. But the slyness in her smirk didn't leave as she gratefully kissed your cheek and let go. "Can't promise you that when you're looking so good, unfortunately... but I'll try. For now."

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you let her happily run off to get ready, glad that she enjoyed your outfit a lot.

》EKKO

He was stunned at the sight of you emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed up so beautifully it left him speechless. The Firelights were having a huge festival in celebration of a recent successful mission, and of course, you were both expected to look your best. And you weren't the type to ever disappoint either.

It was rare to see you dressed up so nicely, the cute outfit being one he had only seen a small couple of times before due to your line of work and life circumstances. But in his mind, you looking so good was a sign of success. He wanted you to be able to dress that way every day, perhaps another motivation of his to continue going.

"How do I look?" You ask, the nervous tone in your voice making his eyes soften even further. "You look great. Who are you trying to impress, hm?" His words were playful as he grabbed your waist carefully. Ekko mirrored the shy smile that crept onto your lips at his question. "A certain someone. I don't think you know him, though." You played along, watching as he raised a brow with an unimpressed smirk.

"Hm... maybe we shouldn't go out then-" "-Oi! Why are you guys taking so long? Let's get going." Scar's voice made you both jump, as he appeared in the doorway and waved you over. A sly smirk crept onto your face as you quickly followed after the man. "Ah, there he is! See ya around, Ekko!" "Hey! I'll remember this-!" Running after you two, he couldn't help but laugh a little.

The festival was going to be great, to say the least.

》JINX

You were just trying out some new clothes you had gotten. Nothing special and definitely not for anyone else's eyes, except for hers. Once you were done, you were quick to hunt down your girlfriend to show her your outfit. "Jinx! How do I look?" You asked, a happy smile on your lips as you now stood next to her, whilst she tinkered away on some projects. Removing her googles, she glanced up at you and blinked in surprise, near speechless for a moment.

Nervously shifting under her intense gaze, you wondered if she didn't like it. "Uhm... should I go change or-" "-You look really good..." She muttered thoughtfully before a large grin crept onto her lips mischievously. "A bit too good! Makes me nearly jealous, pretty. How about you dress me up too so we can match?" You should have honestly seen this coming, as she enjoys doing cute things like that with you.

And so, you did as she asked, whilst she painted your nails to match her own. By the end of it, you looked like you were headed to a fancy event, something she found greatly amusing. Kicking a nearby radio to make it play music, she held out her hand to you with a bright smile. "Alright, let's get this party started!"

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x genderneutral reader #arcane x y/n #arcane vi #arcane vi x reader #vi x reader #vi #arcane jinx #arcane jinx x reader #jinx #jinx x reader #arcane ekko #arcane ekko x reader #ekko x reader #ekko

795 notes · View notes

kroosluvr · 3 months ago

Text

The audience was awaiting the famed Detective Prince and the one-and-only Kasumi Yoshizawa who ended up no-showing... but two new skaters suddenly step onto the rink and make it a show to remember!

a fabricated stage... made for the detective prince and kasumi yoshizawa, filled with slogans and empty seats and mirrors that remind them that this isn't their stage... HOWEVER!!! THE SPOTLIGHTS ARE STILL ON AND THE RINK IS STILL ICECOLD SO ITS SHOWTIME BABYYYYY they throw all that expectation out the window and do their thing regardless AND WHAT A SHOW IT IS!!!!

i thinkthe fact that all the seats are empty is funny as fuck. no one came to see them...... but they got some fans throwing roses at the end!!! (in my head it's joker especially if this showtime is developed during long winter au so their Only other teammate Is joker.) (i havent rlly thoughgt abt When this happens tho teeheebonk... up to ur interpretation...)

i noticed in the other showtimes theres some that have like.. logos?? slogans?? namely the ryuji/yusuke makoto/haru haru/morgana and akira/goro ones so i DEFINITELY wanted to include that in here (i feel like most of the showtimes have stuff incorporatingtheir pthief names except for a few??? they hsld have included it in all ofthem its so cute)

figure skating... physically intensive and demanding sport that requires a lot of precise maneuvers and finesse which suits the two of them quite nicely!!

i wanted to include the "sayonara suckers" line. atlus why did u cut that out its so cute.

i think for these two you could def do a more serious showtime or a sillier/cuter one like this but since crow already got a pretty serious one w joker (and violet also w the flashback of kasumi and all) i went for Sillycute.... tho this could also be a little depressing if u think abt the premise KJFHKASDHAKSJ

goro is carrying her on his shoulder or something on the last page! i imagine after the slashes on pg2 he scoops her up nd spins her around and then the camera pans in on her then she waves but yeah. HEHEHEH

thinking abt it more the joker/violet and joker/crow showtime r kinda like acknowledging their past while this one acknowledges their future :’)))

edit: srry ikeep remembering more stuff . i think the idea of them performing on an empty stage, in a field (figure skating) that isn't either of theirs, yet enjoying it and havign fun regardless of how good they are, is super important to me KASDHAJKSDHA as long as its theirs, thats what matters...!! as long as they]re wholeheartedly THEMSELVES...!!!! who cares abt audience expectations or Who they want you to be or What you look like in the mirror!! you're still you!!!

this goes out to royaltriodaily on twt I HOPE U SEE THIS SOMEHOW UEUEEE UEEEE

#goro akechi #sumire yoshizawa #persona 5 royal #akesumi #violetcrow #cele draws #long winter

565 notes · View notes

dellalyra · 1 year ago

Note

OMG I WAS JUST HAVING BRAINROT ABOUT GOJO AND Y/N IN THEIR TEEN YEARS AND

imagine that back then they had to participate in a talent show or something and megumi and the rest watch the old video tape they found in the darkest corner of the library on campus.

the tape was in a box with a label reading "the best jujutsu tech students' and its just filled with memories of their teen years.

they decide to watch the talent show one and its just chaotic as hell. mid way through megumi, nobara and yuuji get caught watching it lmao

𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨, 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖, 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣! 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

A/N: this request. came in last night - and it’s all I’ve done today because it was so perfect it’s all I could think about. ur amazing ily

CW: swearing, weed, suggestive stuff, mdni i stg shoo

“Itadori! Bring these to the garbage!” Nobara shouts.

“Why me?! Why can’t you do it?!” He retorts as Megumi just rolls his eyes at the two of them, he wonders how they turned into siblings so easily.

“Fushiguro! Tell your boyfriend to take this to the garbage. It’s heavy and he should use his freaky wall-breaking strength for something useful!” She shouts back.

“Eh?! Is exorcising cursed and carrying you like a sack of flour not useful?! Or always carrying all your dumb shopping?!” They’ve broken into an all out sibling squabble by now, Megumi just turns away and continues the task of clearing out the storeroom behind the dojo in the school. Pushing boxes of old files and reports out of the way, he finds a box covered in doodles and stickers, taped shut at the top. He goes to inspect the very out of place container and finds words among the doodles of weirdly shaped beings and flowers.

‘The Best Jujutsu Tech Students.’

“Will you two shut up for two minutes, come look at this.” He says over his shoulder to the two, with Nobara releasing Yuuji from the headlock she somehow got him in.

“Ancient treasure! I told you we’d find something cool.” Yuuji shouts, pumping his fist into the air.

“What is this, Pirates of the Caribbean?! We’re clearing out a high school storage room, dumbass.” The girls rolls her eyes.

They inspect the box, trying to figure out the doodles.

“It doesn’t look super old? Open it, Itadori.” Nobara says.

“Will you quit telling me what to do?!” He says, huffing.

While they resumed the bickering, Megumi took a knife he had hidden in the shadows and sliced through the lines of tape holding the box together. The sound alerted the other two who peered into the box alongside him.

“Wait, are they… DVD’s?” Megumi asks.

“Yeah - but they’re homemade ones. Is there a label on them?” His boyfriend says, leaning in to get a closer looks.

The box itself was filled with small DVD cases of many colours - all labelled in a scrawling handwriting the kids felt like they knew.

“There’s a DVD player in the room where I hung out when I was dead.” Yuuji says, and hauls the box up and begins to walk. None of them even needed to discuss whether or not they’d be watching them, like a hive mind - but with maybe two shared brain cells.

They all made their way across campus, to a room in the same building as their Sensei’s office.

Nobara insisted on grabbing snacks from the vending machine en route, and they sat down on the sofa while Yuuji loaded the first date labelled ‘2003, December.” Well, that’s what they think it’s said. The handwriting was such a chicken scratch it almost looked like a doctor’s unintelligible writing.

The screen came to life - sounds buzzing and voices echoing (albeit muffled) as the screen panned from looking at the floor - to the sky, the the floor again. Then - a face came on screen.

A very familiar one - but… a hell of a lot younger.

“Wait… is that -?” Nobara asks.

“Shoko-sensei?!” Yuuji exclaims.

“That’s kinda how she looked when I was a kid. She’s in her uniform, so this must be when she was in school.” Megumi adds.

The camera pulls away from the close up on her face as another figure enters the shot - a man with odd bangs, silky black hair tied up into a bun and piercing dark eyes. He had a lazy smile in his face as he looked into the camera, poking a finger into Shoko’s cheek.

“What the fuck, Suguru?!” She says as she flicks his hand away.

“That’s - that’s Geto Suguru.” Megumi says. Geto had always been a bittersweet topic in their house, only getting worse in the last year and a half since… since he died.

The next action causes a gasp to echo across the room. A smiling face pops up between both figures.

Dark, circular sunglasses perched on a slim, pale nose and a wide, toothy, cheeky smile sat under a mop of shocking white, messy hair.

“Holy shit! That’s -” Yuuji starts.

“Dad.” Megumi whispers, seeing Satoru so young, probably around his age was amazing to him.

“Wow! It’s working! Is it on? Is it filming?” 16 year old Gojo says, voice eerily familiar, but much younger.

The three faces were all staring into the lens of the camera, only visible from the shoulders up. On screen, Shoko looked down and moved her arm and another head popped up from the bottom of the screen, trying to squeeze in.

The head of H/C hair and shiny eyes wiggled their way into the shot between Suguru and Shoko, and under Satoru.

“Did you say it’s on? It on recording right now?” The new figure pokes the camera.

“No fucking way… Fushiguro! That’s -” Nobara says, swirling to look at the taller boy.

“My mom.” He says, eyes fixed on screen. Your face was younger, hair the same as ever, eyes still full of excitement and curiosity and voice slightly higher than it is now. A hand pats the top of your head, a pale one - Satoru.

“Do a dance for the camera, Y/N.” Satoru says, smiling.

And you do a little wiggle in your spot squeezed between everyone as the other three burst out laughing.

The camera cuts off, and the screen changes to a view of the outside - all of them immediately recognising the training field.

In view is Geto and Gojo, sparring at such a ridiculously quick speed it’s barely visible. He could hear giggling behind the screen and recognised the voices of you and Shoko laughing about something that happened in class.

“They’re such show offs.” Your voice says.

“Geto genuinely wants to train, Gojo is just trying to impress you.” Shoko says, voice muffled by something - which he later sees as a lollipop, figuring it out when it gets launched across the field - presumably in retaliation for her comment by you.

“No way, Koko! That’s just dumb, he’s just a show off in general.” Your voice echoes.

“Whatever you say, Y/N.”

The camera cuts off again. The next thing they see is the night sky, and raucous laughter. The camera is being held by Shoko again, and she points it to a view of a rooftop - the flat part of the roof of the dorm building. The camera turns to one Suguru Geto, eyes hazy and smile even more languid than normal. In his hand was a smoking object - which he passed to Shoko.

They were both laughing together about Shoko saying she could see a constellation shaped like a penis, and the hysterical giggles and she rested her head on the boys shoulder told them that the joint in Shoko’s hand was very much affecting them.

There were clambering sounds.

“I can’t reach!” Came your voice, distant and off screen.

“C’mere shortstack, I’ll give you a boost.” The teasing lilt of Gojo’s voice came after.

“Thanks, Jack the Beanstalk.” Your retort sent the two original stars into another round of laughter before you and Gojo enter the frame, both holding a plastic bag of snacks.

Shoko gives you the joint as you sit, and you take a quick puff and pass it back to Suguru. Satoru declines it, saying it makes his eyes feel funny to which you all nod and say ‘makes sense’.

“Did you get me spicy chips?” Suguru asks, combing through the bags.

“Yes. But - you had to tell me you love me to get them.” Satoru says, smirking.

“Gojo Satoru - you are the light of my life, the centre of my world, the reason my heart beats, please, May I have my child you absolute fuckwad.” He says, as Satoru throws his head back laughing and throws a red bag of chips at him before tackling him to the ground demanding a kiss.

You laugh at the scene, turning to Shoko.

“See - that’s how Geto has at least one date every weekend.” You say, opening your chocolate.

“Man-whore.” She responds, sucking on a lollipop.

The screen flashes black. The same view is on the screen, but the atmosphere is much calmer. Suguru lay, head on Shoko’s lap and her deft fingers carding through his hair as he listens to whatever nonsense Gojo is spouting. The camera turns to a view that has Nobara and Yuuji cooing. Satoru is sitting, arm around your back to keep you upright with your head on his shoulder, eyes closed and clearly sleeping.

Suguru’s voice whispers into the camera.

“And these two say they’re not into each other.” Followed by a scoff from Shoko.

Next up is a view of the training field again, with a sight that made the three current first years laugh. Suguru was laying on the grass, and he was bench pressing you - his makeshift weight - as you lay relaxed horizontally reading a book, the casual nature made it clear this was a daily occurrence.

Once his reps are finished, he gently lets you down and you don’t even react, just laying on the grass continuing your book. He stands up and waves to Shoko, who he’s just noticed with her camera and proceeds to take off his shirt and let down his hair.

“Put your damn shirt back on!” Shoko shouts.

“God damn, maybe I should be a curse user.” Nobara utters, whistling and fanning herself.

The camera is next held up by Satoru - who smiles and puts a finger to his lips to symbolise silence, for some reason, like the camera would be unexpectedly loud. He turns the camera and in the backseat of a car is Shoko and you, both asleep and earphones split between you with a bright pink iPod on Shoko’s lap. Her head was resting in the crook of your neck, and you cheek rested on top of your head.

“They really have always been best friends, haven’t they?” Yuuji says. Megumi is reminded of last week, when Nobara and Yuuji fell asleep in the back of Ijichi’s car, in the exact same position.

The camera operator is back to Shoko now, who is filming the most beautiful scenery. Sakura petals are drifting through the air as throngs of people wander around what appears to be a festival. There’s food stalls and trinket stands and everyone around is in their finery.

“Suguru! Show the camera your best pose.” Shoko says, as Suguru appears on screen decked out in a black and grey kimono with his hair in a half up, half down style.

He throws a peace sign at the camera and then takes it so he can film Shoko who’s in a pretty red Yukata pattered with black and white koi. She smiles and then waves as she looks off camera.

“You’re late, Satoru. Where’s Y/N?” She says as Gojo comes on screen.

He’s wearing a dark blue and silver hakama which looks like it cost the same as a house, Suguru wolf whistles and Satoru pretends to fawn over him.

“She was having lunch with her mom, she’s probably going to be here - holy shit.” Satoru says, but cuts himself off halfway as his jaw drops open.

The camera pans messily as Suguru turns to where Satoru is looking.

You’re walking toward them, smile on your face and usually messy hair styled in a beautiful updo, make up making your skin glow in the afternoon sun. You were wearing a light pink, billowy, gauzy hanfu with tiny pale green flowers and leaves around the edges. You did truly look incredibly stunning. You had a little bag in your hand, and the camera flew back to look at Satoru who was gaping at your approaching figure. His usually pale skin flushed with a pink dusting.

His mouth moves, and it seems unconscious when he whispers to himself.

“Beautiful…”

You walk into the frame, smiling brightly and hugging Shoko and then freezing when you see Satoru, eyes widening at the strikingly handsome figure he makes, every inch a fairytale Prince. The pink on your cheek matches your outfit as you stammer out a breathy,

“Hi, Satoru.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He says, mouthing opening and closing as you look at him through fluttering lashes.

There’s a jolt as it seems Suguru holding the camera elbows his best friend and whispers in his ear, just audible to the camera.

“Bro, tell her she looks beautiful, damn it.”

“You… you look um - beautiful, Y/N.” He stammers out, and the three first years watching laugh at how their oh-so-smooth sensei was once such a mess he needed prompting to flirt from his friends.

You flush even deeper.

“Thank you, Satoru. You look really good too. The um… the blue really suits you. The restaurant I had lunch with my mom had Sakura mochi, so I - I got you some.” You say as you shove a small nicely wrapped box at him and Satoru seems to melt. Shoko appears on screen, making a circle with one hand and poking a finger through it repeatedly in a very lewd gesture that has Suguru cackling.

“Wait - they’re not even together yet. They didn’t get together until the end of their second year.” Megumi muses, smirking.

“So they’ve always been this whipped for each other.” Nobara laughs.

The DVD ends there, and Yuuji jumps up to put in the next one, labelled ‘second year’.

The video begins with you sprinting toward Shoko and her catching you in her arms.

“I missed you so much! A whole summer without you, it was torture. How was the medical camp?” You ask her, barely taking a breath between words.

“Did you not miss me, lil’ lady?” Came a smooth voice as one Geto Suguru wraps his arms around you too, and you squeal in excitement. The three standing are then abruptly tackled to the ground as a blur of white and black whizzes toward them.

“Satoru!” Came three scolding voices.

“How the fuck did you do that, you lanky - oh.” Shoko is stopped abruptly as they all stand up and the change in Satoru is clearly visible. Long gone is the beanstalk boy of their first year, all arms and legs at 16 and now at almost 18 - a broad shouldered, 6ft 3, sharper jawline and longer hair Gojo stands before them. You look like you might faint.

The video stops and then resumes looking at a very familiar blackboard, and a much younger Yaga beside it.

In front of the blackboard there’s two students in Jujutsu High uniforms - both in party hats and standing under a banners with ‘Welcome First Years!’ written in big bubble writing on it, the sounds of streamers and party poppers came through the room as the camera was set down on a desk.

Gojo comes on screen and waves his arms as if to show off the two students. One looked incredibly happy, a beaming smile full of excitement and the other looking absolutely miserable, but given how painfully 2005 emo he looked - it wasn’t surprising. Megumi smirked, seeing the blond boy on screen and knowing exactly who it was from photo albums you kept - but he waited to see when the other two would notice.

“Welcome to Yu Haibara! Please - introduce yourself!” Gojo says, pointing a bottle of cola at him like a microphone.

“Hi! I’m Yu! I’m 16 and I like rice and people!” He says, voice full of enthusiasm.

“Thank you! Next up, Gerard Way!” Satoru smiles and point the mock microphone to the other boy.

“Do I have to? This feels unnecessary.” He says, grimacing.

“Yes! You do!”

“Fine. My name is Nanami Kento -”

Megumi didn’t hear the rest of the sentence as a chorus of ‘What the fuck!?’ Echoes from the two beside him.

“Nobara, rewind that - I think I heard it wrong, I thought the emo kid said his name was Nanami, hah!” Yuuji exclaims.

“No need. You heard right.” Megumi smirks.

“No fucking way! That’s Nanamin?!” Yuuji is smiling so wide at the sight of his mentor as a moody teen.

“Yup. I remember his hair like that, he had a lip ring and a nose ring too. Geto Suguru pierced his nose with Shoko’s med kit for him when they drank too much whiskey at my mom’s 18th. There’s a picture of them doing it framed in their room at home.” Megumi scoffs a laugh, the other two in shock at the revelation.

The camera stops again and next time is looking from an upstairs window as voices whisper.

“What is she doing?” Shoko asks.

“It looks like she’s talking?” Geto asks.

“There’s a tiny spike in her cursed energy - wait, I’ll try see if there’s someone around.” He says and the clink of his sunglasses hitting the windowsill breaks the quiet.

On screen, there’s you in a pair of fluffy blue pyjamas and a winter knitted hat as you seem to be kneeling and ushering something small out of a bush. Satoru seems to have gotten distracted and the camera pans to him - who’s just staring out the window with the most dopey, lovestruck smile on his face.

“Satoru.” Suguru says, flicking his ear.

He snarls, but blushes.

“I - I can’t tell but, it kinda seems like? She is trying to talk to something.” He says, as they all crane their necks as you pull something into your arms and stand up, taking off your hat and tucking whatever you found into it and scurrying back inside.

An obnoxious ringtone of crazy frog blasts through the room and Satoru flips open his phone and answers it.

Since it’s you, he puts it on speaker.

“Hey, Satoru - are you still at the store? I - kinda need something, urgently.” Your voice asks.

“Eh - yeah, I’m at the store. What do you need?” He says, trying to hush the two sniggering traitors beside him who are fully aware that he came back from the store an hour ago and is sitting in Suguru’s dorm with them.

“I - um, I need kitten milk.” Your voice says, just as the camera cuts off.

The next few videos are just videos on videos on you and a tiny, tiny kitten, feeding it from a small bottle and it sleeping on your chest, or Satoru playing with it and a ball of wool in hysterical laughter. One video is taken by Shoko with Suguru in the frame playing with the kitten who is trying to catch his bangs and on the sofa, is you sitting on Satoru’s lap, as he looks at you adoringly and you giggle and place a kiss on his lips. Given that it’s about 3/4 of the way through your second year, it means you’re freshly together after torturing your friends with mutual pining.

Megumi looks closer at the kitten, and the tabby is very recognisable to him - given that to this day, the hairs of that kitten, now 13 years old and still thriving due to your unwavering spoiling, still decorate any black fabric in your home.

“Is that baby grumpy George?!” Nobara asks, hitting the nail on the head.

The video fades again, and then the screen is illuminated by a makeshift stage in the school sports hall. Another large banner is on the wall, with ‘Talent Show’ written in large writing, Megumi now noticed the big bubble writing was the same as had been on every ‘happy birthday’ banner he’d had every year.

The announcer, he recognises as a smiling principal Yaga - even though this is surely not a school organised or endorsed event, but probably the work of the couple he now calls his parents.

“Welcome to Jujutsu Talent Show! The rules of tonight are as follows a) no cursed techniques or cursed energy and absolutely no sabotaging! Panda! Do you want to say who’s going first?” Yaga announced as he lifts up a baby panda and the voice of the baby says “Nanami and Yu!”.

Yu skips on stage, decked out in a cape patterned with stars and a large top hat, followed by a very sullen Nanami Kento, adorned with a nose and lip ring now.

“Ladies, gentlemen, cursed corpses! My name is Yu the Magic Man and this is my assistant, the Fantastical Nanamin! Does anyone here like rabbits?” He announced, and takes off his hat, revealing a stuffed rabbit on his head - commencing the world’s worst magic show. The highlight was definitely Yu asking Nanami to pull the scarf from his sleeve and after pulling and pulling and pulling, a very frustrated Kento growls ‘Fucking hell, Yu - how long is this thing?’ Completely breaking what little mysticism surrounded the performance. Geto didn’t help, when he muttered ‘that’s what she said’ after Nanami’s complaint, setting the second years off.

After a bow to his rapt audience, and lots of cheering and supportive clapping from you all - the first years leave and Yaga announces the next performance.

A loud bang echoes through the room,

“Holy shit!” Your voice, the 28 year old you, carries through the room as three heads spin around to see their sensei’s back, arms supporting the thighs around his waist, belonging to his wife who’s lipstick is smudged across her cheek and her husband’s face. The white haired man’s white shirt was partially unbuttoned and your sweater had fallen completely off you shoulder - combined with the position you entered the room and the ruined cosmetics it was quite clear why the teachers had stumbled into this forgotten room of jujutsu tech.

“Get a fucking room.” Megumi grumbles.

“We were! But you’re here! And just for that I’m gonna tell you that the sofa you’re sitting on was where Akio was conceived.” Gojo retorts, trying to fix himself as all the kids groan.

“Both of you, hush. ‘Toru - look at the screen.” You were transfixed on the paused screen.

“Wait! Is that - that’s our talent show! From second year! Where did you guys find this?” Satoru says, leaping over the back of the sofa and plopping down but not before turning around and picking you up by the waist and sitting you in his lap.

“I thought all the DVD’s were lost! Koko couldn’t find them after we graduated!” You say, as you keep staring at the screen.

“We were clearing out the storage room, like Ijichi asked and we found a funky box with DVD’s in it.” Yuuji says.

“Oh my god! Press play!” You say, clapping.

“Look at angry Nanamin!” Gojo says, smiling.

“Next up is Y/N and Shoko!” Screen Yaga announces.

You and Shoko are dressed in the most colourful outfits ever, you’re beaming and Shoko looks exhausted. Large headbands, crimped hair, tutu skirts, leggings, neon leg warmers and beads were the costume of choice as Geto stood on one side of the stage.

“Welcome to - Y/N and Shoko’s dance bonanza!” You both say, and Geto presses play so that Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun plays to match the 80s Cyndi Lauper style outfits. Having danced ballet as a little girl, and being a big fan of Just Dance and Dance Dance Revolution - you decided that you and Shoko would do this for the show, exhausted and unenthusiastic - but endlessly loyal to her best friend and determined to not let Gojo win the show. You guys danced a perfectly in sync routine with 28 year old you shouting ‘Oh my god, I still remember the routine!’ Halfway through. Yuuji was hopping along on the sofa beside Megumi.

Before Shoko could collapse into a heap as the song finished, she was thrown over Suguru’s shoulder and hauled off stage with Gojo doing the same for you.

After a brief intermission, Geto and Gojo were welcomed on stage in matching black tuxedo’s, off camera your voice could be heard saying ‘ugh, I’m gonna climb that man like a tree later, suits are the best.’

“Ladies, gents - tonight welcome to The GS squared stand up comedy show, enjoy your night and Geto’s number is available after the show.” Gojo drawls into the mic.

Megumi didn’t expect the routine to be as funny as it was, everyone especially enjoyed the part where they did impressions of different Jujutsu Elders, including Naobito Zen’in and Principal Gakuganji - which were unnervingly accurate but highly offensive to them, especially when Gojo got on his knees to imitate how short the elder Kyoto principal was and Geto kept playing Looney Tunes on the projector to show Naobito’s ‘cursed technique’.

When the audience were thoroughly hysterically laughing, with the audience being Yaga, MeiMei, Panda, Y/N, Shoko, Yu, Kento and Utahime who was visiting Shoko for the weekend, the boys bowed, winked and walked off stage and the camera caught Gojo bending down to whisper something in his ear which had you looking at the sky and blushing - still getting used to openly loving each other.

The voting wasn’t recorded, but the winners announcement was and it was shown to be Yu and Nanami - who everyone, except for themselves had voted for.

“Oh my god, these are priceless! I can’t believe I got even funnier with age, and look at your cute little outfit, princess!” Satoru coos.

“There’s a whole box of them, we’ve only watched 2!” Yuuji says, bouncing and handing the box to you and Satoru.

“No way, it’s the whole box! I remember decorating it with Koko! Hold on, I’m gonna ring her to come here.” You say as you take out your phone, smiling at the lockscreen of Satoru, Megumi and your 6 month old son and pulling up Shoko’s contact to ring her to ‘get her ass down here for a surprise’.

“Oh, ‘toru! I bet our DVD of our trip together to Fiji in the summer of third year, Shoko lent us her came for it!” You say, wrapping your arms around him and settling in while Yuuji loads the next DVD.

“Classes are cancelled, I’ve decided it’s home movie day - do we have any popcorn?” Satoru says, smiling at how fondly Megumi is looking at the screen, a still pause screen of himself and you smiling in the training yard together - still looking as lovingly at each other 13 years later. Yuuji has his arm wrapped and Megumi’s shoulders and is leaning into him, as the dark haired boy rubs circles on his boyfriend’s knee - Nobara has her legs stretched across the laps of both boys as the newest video begins.

The door swings open, Shoko entering -

“No fucking way! You found them! Kids, move up - let Aunty Koko sit.” She says, plopping herself between the arm and her two best friends, her nephew and their bonus kids.

She’s glad she bought that camera.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #dad!gojo

4K notes · View notes