#college made me hate saturdays <3

[sylhea-raemi]

Can you please give me some Phineas and Ferb Heian (Timeshift) AU headcanons?

sorry i forgot about the asks in my inbox honestly but to be even more honest my brain really could not think of anything lol but fucking phineas and ferb being in heian period would be so funny these kids will make an invention that would harmonize both humans and yokais 💀 either that or they'll make the genji clan even more powerful

#i'm really sorry anon i may not be the right person to ask about these #i am not knowledgable about p&f nor do i know about history #i'm noy kowledgable abt fate and the entirety of type/moon either #i'm just a casual consumer #speaking of heian BOY AM I GLAD IT DOESNXT HAVE A TIME LIMIT #OR I WOULD'VE BEEN SO FUCKED. #college made me hate saturdays <3 #it's good for us in a practical sense since we can save money by having many classes in one day and less days where we have classes #SIGH i forgot my tag again

[miuszn]

i’m actually so obsessed with your bouncer!ellie.. we need a fic immediately 🤭 -🪐

taste of lust

SETTING : modern au

WC : 5011

WARNINGS : sexual harassment ( nothing graphic ) ( but reader is sort of implied to have trauma related to it , nothing stated explicitly tho ) , bouncer!ellie x bottlegirl!reader , idk shit about clubs so like some stuff might be insanely inaccurate but i did my best to research ( sorry in advance ) , dash of dealer!ellie bc who doesn’t love her , dom!ellie , sub!reader , teasing , overstimulation if u squint , ellie calls u pretty girl & princess , readers first time with a strap , ellie refers to her strap as her cock , i’m not fluent in english yet so there might be mistakes , not beta read

A / N : hello everyoneeee !!! i know this took FOREVER to finish and i’m so sorry about that .. i’ve been super super busy and this fic was so long omg T_T there was a point i started over completely bc i didn’t like the direction it was heading to .. this fanfic shit gets serious truly . in case u missed the warning there is sexual harassment in this fic and reader is implied to have trauma related to it . putting this here again to make sure u guys see it . anyway , i took so long to post this and so much stuff happened !! but alas , it is here , the bottlegirl!reader and bouncer!ellie fic !! this is my fav fic of mine so far so i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i liked writing it <3 ( and yes there will be a part two !! )

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

being a bottle girl wasn’t exactly the job of your dreams. having to deal with creepy rich men every friday and saturday night was definitely not something you enjoyed doing, but that was what paid the bills and allowed you to live a rather comfy lifestyle for a college student. the bad part no one tells you about going to a top college on a full-ride scholarship is that a lot of the students are rich kids who most definitely cheated their way through high school, who live in nice apartments paid for by their mommy and daddy, who use birkins and other designer brand bags as their school bags, who would never be caught dead eating at the cafeteria. of course, you felt out of place. you weren’t exactly poor, but your family definitely could never afford that kind of lifestyle.

you’re pretty. extremely pretty. and you knew you could use that to your advantage. so when you saw a new club in the city that was looking for bottle girls you immediately knew you had to apply. sure, you had to deal with a couple creepy customers every night and sometimes even had to remind them they’re not allowed to touch you, which was annoying. you also hated being seen as an object, and you knew that’s exactly how these men saw you, and what was even worse was those very unsettling “you remind me of my daughter” comments from older men since you were so young. but the money was the main thing you needed, and you were able to put up with all this because of the pay. although the salary itself is just enough to survive, most of your earnings were in tips, and you made good tips. with a little bit of flirting and pretending you were really into customers, you scored lots of tips in the hundreds and sometimes even thousands. that wasn’t really enough for you to be able to afford luxury items whenever you wanted, but you were able to treat yourself every once in a while and that was enough for you.

you and your coworker ellie are the only college students that worked at that club. she wasn’t a bottle girl, however, she was a bouncer. during busy nights the bouncers typically took turns being at the door, and the rest would be inside the club making sure everything was fine. she didn’t mind being inside, it meant she could steal glances at you. truth was, she was into you, and it was obvious. but you took it as her just wanting to get a reaction out of you. that’s what it seemed like. but you can’t lie, whenever she wasn’t looking, you’d stare back as discreetly as you could.

she was a little possessive over you, which you weren’t really aware of. whenever she saw you flirting with customers, she couldn’t deny she felt a little jealous. she of course knew you were just trying to get more tips. regardless, she still couldn’t stand seeing the way you twirled your hair, spoke in that sweet and flirty tone, and even sometimes gave them compliments, and the fact it wasn’t towards her. she wanted it to be her, and her only. she wanted you to be hers. but she never did anything aside from flirt with you a little every once in a while, because she was scared she’d make you uncomfortable.

ellie. where does one even begin to describe her? her strong arms, her short auburn hair she styled as a mullet or put in a half bun when she felt a little lazier, her mesmerizing green eyes. from the moment you laid eyes on her you found her extremely attractive, but you were too shy and didn’t know how to approach her. what’s funny is this is the total opposite of the character you put up for your customers, an extroverted, flirty girl. the thing with you is, you can flirt with people, but only when you’re not attracted to them. when you are, such as in cases like these, the main thing you do is avoid avoid avoid. you rarely had the opportunity to interact with each other, but when you did, you always felt she was trying to subtly flirt with you. it was the kind of flirting where it was hard to tell wether she was flirting with you or just being nice, so you simply took it as being nice because you didn’t think there was any possibility she could be into you. she was just out of your league. even if it was flirting, you didn’t know if she had any other intentions. so you decided to play it safe.

that night was different from the others. your boss informed you that there’d be a bachelor party tonight and surprise surprise, you’d be serving them. the thing about bachelor parties is they’re very demanding and their tips can vary a lot. and demanding in your vocabulary is basically a synonym for entitled. they’ll insist you sit down, have a drink with them, maybe even try to grope you or something. you were not happy about having to deal with them tonight, but your boss told you they were short-staffed tonight, so you’d simply have to suck it up.

the moment the group of about 15 men came in, ellie sensed something was wrong. she rejected about half of them at the entrance before being informed by her supervisor that it was a bachelor party. she didn’t really care. she knew they were up to no good.

“i really don’t think we should let ‘em in.” she crossed her arms.

“any good reason?” he asked, annoyed.

“something just feels.. off,” she whispered, “i dunno. feel like they’re up to no good.”

“i don’t pay you to do ‘vibe checks’ on people.”

“i still don’t think we should let ‘em in. feels like they have bad intentions. have you seen how they’ve been eyeing the rest of the female staff?”

“big deal, this is a night club,” he brushed her off. “that’s how men look at women in nightclubs, williams. suck it up.”

“that still doesn’t-“

“do you want to keep your job or not?” he snapped.

she sighed and rolled her eyes, defeated, and hesitantly let the group in. her eyes were glued on them until they sat down at a table, the feeling in her stomach worsening when she realized you’d be dealing with them. it was one thing for any of the other girls to have to deal with them, but for some reason, she found herself way more worried about you. you were newer to the job and a little younger than the other girls. she couldn’t bear the thought of someone possibly harming you, or taking advantage of you, or anything like that. she felt this strange desire to protect you, something she hadn’t really felt towards anyone before. she felt this way toward you, yet she barely knew anything about you.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

tonight was going to be a long night. the moment those men sat down, you could immediately tell. you could tell by their piercing gazes, which you swore you could physically feel even though you weren’t looking at them, that you’d have to remind them several times they can look but not touch. you heard them whispering stuff to each other while looking at you and then laughing and hitting each other as if they were a group of teenagers. you took a deep breath, put on a smile, and finally went over to their table.

“hey boys,” you greeted with a flirty tone, “anything i can get you guys today?”

“yeah, a piece of that ass.” one of them said, while the rest laughed.

you faked a giggle, trying to do your best to handle this professionally, as you would with all the other annoying customers.

“anyway,” you continued, “do you guys have anything in mind? if not, you can take a look at the stuff we have over there at the bar.” you said, while pointing at the bar.

“we’ll need a moment, babygirl.” one of them replied, holding out his credit card.

you nodded, took the card, and quickly walked away. you absolutely hated that nickname. before you took this job, you didn’t really mind it. but when you started getting called it by basically every single customer you eventually grew to hate it. if you hadn’t been working, you at the very least would’ve given them a death stare or contemplated telling them off (even though you knew you’d never have the balls to do anything of the sort.)

after a couple of minutes, one of them whistled at you to get your attention. strike two. another thing you very much hated. now you were even being treated like an animal. who the hell do they think they are?

you walked over to them and plastered a fake smile on your face and asked if they were ready.

“we just wanted to know what you recommend. i’m sure you drink lots since, you know, you work here.”

some of them chuckled, and you didn’t really get what was funny. but you decided to not start anything and just answered the question.

“well, we have lots of options,” you responded, “we have many of the classics you can find anywhere else, and we also have some that are less common. we just got the louis xiii cognac which is very hard to find, so i’d recommend that one.”

“yeah? are you just saying that ‘cause it’s the most expensive?”

“if you want less pricey options, we have those too.” you replied, avoiding the question. of course you were suggesting it because it was the most expensive. that’s kinda your job. you’re supposed to make money.

“we can afford it.” one of them said.

“yeah, bring us that one.” another chimed in.

you smiled and nodded, walking away. gosh, you felt them draining any energy you had every second you spent near them. you carefully took the bottle and put it on your tray, and grabbed a few glasses and put them with the bottle. you made your way over to their table, placing their glasses in front of them one by one, and although you weren’t looking at any of them, you knew they all had their eyes glued on you. you tried your hardest to pour their drinks quickly enough so you could just get out of there, but not too quickly that they’ll notice. unfortunately for you, they caught onto what you were doing.

“why’re you pouring so fast, babygirl? you in a hurry?”

tonight was going to be a long night.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

ellie couldn’t wait for her turn at the door to be over. she made sure to peek inside every chance she had, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t eyeing you. she couldn’t help it. she couldn’t stop looking at how the black shorts and black baby tee you wore hugged your body and showed off your figure, and she had never been more grateful for the existence of the uniform. but above looking at you because of how attractive you were, she wanted to make sure you were safe. she had dealt with lots of men like them before, and she wouldn’t hesitate to kick them out if things escalated even the slightest bit.

after a while, her supervisor dismissed her and told her to stay inside to make sure nobody was causing any trouble. of course, she went over to the area you were, since there was no one watching over that area and because you were there.

“why’re you pouring so fast, babygirl? you in a rush?” she overheard one of the men speaking to you, with a sort of entitled tone. if she hadn’t been paying attention before, she definitely was now. with the way they were acting, it seemed like they didn’t notice she was there. you were clearly uncomfortable, but tried to play it off, you didn’t want to cause trouble or provoke them. she watched closely as they kept offering you to sit down and drink with them, not listening to you no matter how many times you politely told them you’re not allowed. telling you to “just have one drink, it’s fine” and “no one will know” and they “won't tell your boss.” but your boss was not the only concern. the concern was you. you didn’t know these men, you didn’t know what they could do.

but suddenly, one of the guys sitting on the edge of the seat pulled you in by the hip and forcibly sat you down. in that moment, ellie immediately went over to the table and knew she had to step in.

“sir, you’re not allowed to put your hands on the employees. i’m gonna have to ask you and the rest of your party to step outside.” she said in a stern tone.

“she willingly sat down with us,” one of them lied, “she just wanted to have a drink. nothin’ wrong with tha-“

“i saw what happened. no point in lying. now please step outside before i have you forcibly removed from the premises.”

“yeah?” he stood up to face her. “you’re just a woman. what’re you gonna do? you can’t get all of us out of here.”

“sir, back down.” she warned.

“or what?”

she didn’t respond. instead, she punched him in the face, breaking his nose. a few of his friends stood up, but before they could do anything, some of the security had already gone over to the scene and stopped them, escorting them out as ellie went with you to the break room.

“you alright?” she asked, seeing how shaken up you were.

“i’m, uh, i’m fine. don’t worry.” you responded, sitting down on the couch, still uneasy from the experience. you hated people touching you without your consent, even something that was sort of minor like this. you were already uncomfortable, and this just made it even worse. you didn’t notice ellie had sat down next to you until she wrapped her arm around you and you melted in her embrace. you felt a little embarrassed at how comfortable you felt with a girl you’ve only had small talk with prior, but you were able to push that feeling away because in that moment, you didn’t care. the fact she hadn’t judged you and said “it’s part of the job” or something along those lines, let alone saying you were overreacting was enough to tell you that you could trust her.

“do you, uh, want me to drive you home?” she broke the silence.

“i can’t. i have to finish this shift.” you mumbled. “plus, my roommate has someone over tonight. i can’t go home right now.”

“then, if you want, we can go to my place,” she suggested, quickly adding on “but just so you don’t have to stay in this environment, i’m not trying to be creepy i promise,” because the last thing she wanted was for you to take it the wrong way and be uncomfortable.

“thanks, but, i still have to go back out there and finish my shift.”

she was a little sad. if it was up to her, she’d make you quit and happily support you. she made a lot of money for a college student, between working as a bouncer and dealing weed on the side. she had more than enough to support the both of you, but she’d never talk about anything of the sort out loud.

“i can speak to management for you,” she said, “i’m sure they’ll understand.”

you accepted hesitantly, the voice in the back of your mind telling you you’d just end up fired. but that didn’t matter to you in the moment. you had to get out of there. you couldn’t stand it anymore.

ellie guided you through the back door, making sure you wouldn’t have to face those men again, holding you by the wrist with just enough strength to make sure she wouldn’t let you go easily but not too hard so she wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. she opened her car door for you, waiting a couple seconds for you to get settled in in case you needed her help for whatever reason.

the car ride was short and silent. it wasn’t the awkward kind of silence, more so the kind of silence when there’s nothing to say. it was a comforting silence, a drastic contrast from the loud music in the club that had been blasting in your ears for the past 2 or so hours. you were looking out the window, watching the city lights and buildings as you passed them. ellie would be lying if she said she didn’t steal a few glances at you when you were looking away. she couldn’t help it, you were just so mesmerizingly beautiful she couldn’t help but look at you any chance she could.

when you finally arrived at her place, you were surprised to see she had a house and not an apartment. it wasn’t a big house, but it seemed like it could house about 3 people. you were about to ask about her roommates, but almost as if she read your mind, she said;

“sorry about the mess, i uh, i live alone, so. don’t usually have people over either.”

“it’s fine,” you shook your head, “i’m just grateful you let me come here.”

she noticed you sounded like you were in a better mood. “you feeling a little better now?”

you nodded. “yeah. i guess i just needed to get out of there.” you bit your lip in worry. “but now i don’t know what to do. i’m pretty sure i’ll end up getting fired after leaving like that.”

“after what happened to you? nah. it’s understandable,”

“are you sure? i-i mean, am i not supposed to let them know beforehand-“

“you’ll be fine, don’t worry.” she reassured you. “you’re sort of new, aren’t you?”

“not really. i’ve been working there for a couple months.”

“so you’re new. got it.”

you playfully rolled your eyes. “sure, let’s say that.”

she smiled. “anyway, you wanna do anything? or do you just wanna rest?”

“i guess we could watch a movie or something,” you suggested, “if you want, of course.” you were surprised at how bold you were. it wasn’t anything too bold, sure, but that’s only true for everyone else. for you, something like that, which others might think is minor, is sort of a big deal. not only were you at this girl’s house, but suggesting to watch a movie as well. you were a bit scared that might’ve been too much.

“yeah, sure,” she replied, “you into horror?”

“uhh.. not really..” you admitted.

“it’s fine, we can just watch something else.”

“no, no, it’s fine!” you insisted. it was, in fact, not fine. especially at this time, horror was not your thing. it wasn’t a huge fear of yours or anything, but you were a little embarrassed of the fact you still got scared while watching them, sometimes even got nightmares. but no way you’d admit that to her right there. you felt you were already being too much of a burden on her, so you’d just suck it up to not bother her any further.

a few moments later, you were both on her couch watching some random horror movie she had picked out. you didn’t even know what was going on in the plot, you were way too scared. you’d argue this was one of the scariest movies, scratch that, media in general you’ve ever seen. where did she even find this sort of stuff? ellie was full of surprises indeed.

you didn’t notice you had snuggled up to her, your head laying on her chest, from the fear. once you realized, your face turned red as you pulled away in embarrassment and mumbled some apologies as you moved away. to your surprise, she lightly tightened her grip of her arm she had wrapped around you (which you only now noticed as well), telling you with no need for words that it was fine, and you could stay that way. you didn’t really know how to react to that, but you stayed. something about her was so comforting. you barely knew her, yet you trusted her as if you’d known her all your life. it was a strange feeling. you’d been on multiple dates with the same person many times before yet you still felt more of a connection with your coworker who you had only spoken to a handful of times beforehand. you weren’t even paying attention to the movie anymore. your mind was too busy paying attention to the thoughts racing in your head to process what was going on in the screen about a meter in front of you. you had lots of questions, and the more that popped up in your head, the more your heartbeat sped up.

ellie could feel something was wrong. she lightly lifted up your chin to make you face her, locking eyes with you. she asked if it was because of what happened earlier. you felt like you should look away, but you couldn’t. something about her was just so mesmerizing. you lightly nodded, not wanting to admit all the thoughts in your mind at that moment. you looked into each other's eyes for a couple seconds, before she planted a soft kiss on your lips. it was the type of kiss that happened almost as a reflex, the type that you have almost no control over. you could feel her try to pull away after realizing what she did, but before she fully pulled away you pressed your lips against hers, pulling her in this time in a deeper kiss.

before you knew it, you were straddling her lap as she placed kisses on your neck, occasionally sucking on it softly and leaving light purple marks on your skin. you hadn’t realized how much it was turning you on until you started lightly rocking your hips back and forth, desperate to get any sort of friction. ellie realized what you were doing, and placed her hands on your waist, almost guiding your movement, causing you to let out a few soft moans and whimpers.

“ellie..” you whined.

“i know, baby, i know.”

she carefully lifted you off her lap and laid you down on the couch, hovering over you. she tugged on the hem of your shorts.

“let’s get these off.” she said, as she undid the button and slipped them off you with ease, revealing your soaked cotton panties. “cute,” she thought to herself.

“i’ve barely touched you n’ you’re already so wet,” she teased, rubbing your clit through the thin cloth causing you to moan softly.

after a moment, you started to whine, tired of her teasing.

“desperate, huh?”

you broke eye contact as you looked away in embarrassment. in the back of your mind, you couldn’t believe everything that was going on. you found it a little embarassing, hooking up with a coworker you had barely spoken to prior. but as you had been doing the whole night, you tried to push those thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on the moment.

“don’t feel ashamed, pretty girl.” she said, noticing you felt a little off. something about her caring but almost demanding tone was turning you on even more.

she carefully pulled your panties to the side, sliding two fingers in, thrusting them at a slower but steady pace. this was better, but it still wasn’t enough. you bucked your hips ever so slightly, to tell her you wanted more.

“you’re gonna have to try a little harder than that, baby,” she said. she knew exactly what you meant, but she wanted to hear you say it. you whined in complaint, hoping she wouldn’t make you say it out loud.

“use your words, princess,” she smirked while locking eyes with you.

“please, ellie..” you begged.

“please what?”

“please, more..”

“good girl,” she said under her breath, speeding up her pace and thrusting her fingers inside you twice as fast as she was before, causing you to moan and whimper louder. soon you started feeling a knot forming in your stomach, making you attempt to grip the couch.

“ellie.. fuck..” you moaned.

“i know, pretty. but you don’t get to cum yet.” she smirked, suddenly pulling her fingers out.

you whined at her words and the sudden emptiness inside you, as ellie softly chuckled at your reaction. she found it so cute. she found pretty much everything about you to be cute.

she stood up, and went to grab something from her closet. it was a bright purple strap, and it was quite big. you weren’t sure it would even fit inside you. you watched as she effortlessly took off her pants and put the harness on, walking back to the couch and positioning herself, the tip right in front of your entrance.

“i want you to cum from my cock.”

she started sliding it along your slit, coating it in your slick, causing you to whine a little, before positioning it once again in front of your entrance and slowly sliding the tip inside you easily.

you were still a little scared since you had never done anything like this before. you’ve gotten fingered before, sure, but this was the first time someone used a strap on you. especially one this big.

“ellie..”

“hm?”

“i’ve never, uh,” you stuttered, “done something like this.”

“never gotten fucked with a strap before, huh?” she said, “i could tell. you seem kinda nervous. but relax, princess, i’ll take care of you.”

the nickname only turned you on more. you didn’t get why you loved it so much. it had never crossed your mind, yet you were now sure it was your favorite pet name ever.

with that, she started slowly sliding it in, looking at your facial expressions to make sure she wasn’t hurting you. surprisingly, you were able to take it all. she started thrusting it at a slow pace, gradually speeding up, but not quite fast yet. she definitely wanted to fuck you way harder and faster, but she wanted you to get used to the feeling first.

after a few thrusts you started to get used to the feeling, and it was amazing. she sped up her pace a little more, gripping your thighs, and this time she was able to locate your sweet spot, and boy was she about to abuse it. she hit it with every thrust, making you twitch and moan at every wave of pleasure.

“good fuckin’ girl,” she praised, “already taking my cock so well.”

“ellie.. please..” you begged, between moans, “faster..”

“yeah? you sure you can handle it, tough girl?”

you nodded, and she immediately sped up. she fucked you a little faster than you expected, and it was a little too much, but the overwhelming pleasure was, at the same time, addicting. the sounds of your moans and whimpers, her groans, and your wet cunt filled the room. soon, that familiar knot in your stomach started forming again, except this time it was much more intense, causing you to try and grip the couch once again. she realized what was going on, and started using her thumb to rub circles on your clit. you started tearing up from the overstimulation which was the littlest bit painful but also overwhelmingly pleasurable.

“i wanna hear you say my name, baby,” she demanded, “i know you’re close.”

and almost on cue, you came all over her cock as you moaned her name, just as she demanded, as she fucked you through your orgasm and finally pulling out with a slight pop.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

it had been about an hour since you finished your.. activity. she insisted on getting a bath started for you, and now there you were on her bed, in one of her t-shirts that was a little big on you, freshly out of the bath. you texted your roommate before getting in the bath to tell her you wouldn’t be coming home tonight, and of course, she didn’t mind that at all.

not only were you on ellie’s bed, but you were cuddling her, trying to sleep. she told you you didn’t have to, and that she just enjoys sleeping with body warmth, but you knew better. maybe it was true, but it sure as hell was not the only reason. but you didn’t mind. you acted stupid and like you bought her story, because truth is, you really wanted to cuddle with her, and you were even thinking of similar excuses if she hadn’t brought it up first.

“you awake?” ellie whispered.

“mhm, sort of.” you replied, in a sleepy voice.

“i just, uh,” she paused for a moment, “i just wanted to know. when will i see you again?”

“on our next shift together.” you joked.

“no, dummy, i mean like this.”

you thought about it for a moment.

“i guess we’ll see,” you responded softly, “i’m pretty sleepy. i think we should talk about this later.”

she seemed satisfied with your response, but she still had the fear you were only saying that to be polite, and you didn’t want anything more or didn’t want this to repeat. of course, she’d respect you if that was the case, although she’d be a little disappointed. but she felt there was something more there, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. you weren’t like any of the other girls she’s hooked up with before. she wasn’t exactly sure what set you apart from them, but she knew there had to be something.

maybe it was just feelings.

but even if it didn’t seem like that was the case because of your shy personality, you wanted something more. just like her.

#arielle writes ୨୧ #arielle’s 18+ ୨୧ #ellie williams x reader #🪐 anon #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie x reader #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou 2 #tlou x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams hcs #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams smut

[katyswrites]

put on your records (and regret me)

PART 3 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, alcohol use, recreational weed use, descriptions of puking/hangovers, no use of y/n, not quite smut but we're getting close folks

Wordcount: 4.3k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 3

You don’t see Steve for nearly a week after that - you hang around the radio station quite a bit, as you usually do, but never manage to run into him. You should be thankful for that - for how peaceful it is. It’s not even like you want to see him - no, why would you? He’s a pain in your ass, and you should be thankful that you can do your job in peace. 

No, it’s not actually at the station that you see him next - though, it’s tangentially related. You’re at perhaps your second-favorite place in the world - Varsity Vinyl, the local record shop downtown. It has some of the best selection you’d seen, and you always find yourself there - buying for your own growing record collection, or rooting through the used and discounted bin to help stock the station’s vinyl library. It’s where you find yourself on a Saturday afternoon, flipping through records while figuring how much money you actually realistically are able to spend.

You don’t see him, not at first. He’s standing further down the aisle, and when you finally look up and spot him, you nearly jump - he’s just staring at you, eyes wide. You straighten up, just holding eye contact - you feel like two wild animals sizing each other up, deciding whether to run or fight. You’re truly deciding between those two options when he clears his throat.

“Oh - uh, hey,” he says, quieter than you had expected.

“Hey.”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, a beat of silence passing between you. Then, you both find yourselves speaking at once:

“Your party was fun the other night -”

“Are you okay -”

You both pause, and you awkwardly laugh.

“Sorry, uh - the party was fun last weekend. Thanks,” you say quietly.

Steve shrugs.

“Oh, yeah - glad you came. You… you seemed like you were having a good time.”

Like I made an absolute fool of yourself, more like, you think to yourself.

“Oh! I mean - I guess. Sorry if I got a little - uh -”

“It’s fine, don’t worry - we’ve had worse,” Steve assures.

He hasn’t said anything about bringing you home. Part of you is convinced that Eddie was misinformed, and Steve didn’t actually bring you home that night - that is, if it wasn’t for that stupid note. The note you probably should have thrown out, but stuck into a desk drawer instead - to refer to later, just to make sure you weren’t crazy, you had reasoned.

But now, Steve is standing in front of you, more quiet and withdrawn than you’ve ever seen in the past four years of knowing him.

“So, uh - thanks,” you say quickly, almost mumbling.

“For what?” he asks, confused.

“For, um, getting me home safe - I don’t really remember it, but -”

He waves you off. “Oh, that - don’t worry about it. The hardest part was getting you to tell me your address,” he says, laughing. “You were wasted.”

You groan. “That’s…embarrassing.”

He smirks. “Honestly, yeah, a little bit. But most people were gone by then, so… your secret’s safe with me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I mean - I’m surprised you didn’t tell everybody - how I was, you know, throwing up all over your apartment, being a drunk idiot -”

Why didn’t he? It’s leverage - a way to make people lose respect for you, and gain more for him. A part of this stupid, pointless power battle you two seem to always be involved in, seeing how far you can push one another. His response is unexpected.

“You don’t actually think that little of me, do you?”

You don’t really know how to answer that.

He scoffs. “Look, it’s not my fault that you can’t hold your alcohol for shit. But, I’m not going to go around telling everyone that, okay? Christ -”

He trails off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re welcome, though.”

You suddenly feel like a bit of an asshole - Steve is used to you throwing insults his way, but this time, it seems to have struck a chord with him.

“I was in a really bad way, wasn’t I?” you ask quietly, avoiding eye contact.

He nods. “Honestly? Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. You really don’t remember?”

You shake your head, face feeling flushed with embarrassment. He just sighs.

“What do you remember?”

You rack your brain for a moment, biting your lip absentmindedly as you think.

“Um - I remember playing Kings with everyone… and, uh…”

I remember you coming in from the porch with what’s-her-face on your arm -

“-and it gets fuzzy after that,” you say quickly.

“Oh, okay - wow, that’s pretty early on. Well, you did some shots with Eddie and Robin - you got on the kitchen table at one point ... I think you threw up over my balcony… and after that I, uh, hung out with you in the bathroom while you threw up some more, and brought you home.”

You freeze. “Wait - you babysat me, like, the whole time? I thought that was Eddie -”

“No way, Eddie was too high to help anyone. I was stone-cold sober by that point, thanks to you.”

“Oh,” you say, wishing you could sink into the floor. Steve fucking Harrington knew what you looked like keeled over a toilet and puking your guts out… dammit.

“It was pretty gnarly, but… it’s fine. Really, it’s okay.”

For maybe the first time in his life, it sounds like Steve is being sincere with you. Another beat of silence passes, then he’s clearing his throat again.

“So… you have any big plans tonight? A repeat of last weekend, maybe?” he asks casually. You furrow your brow, confused.

“Um - do you actually care?”

He shrugs. “So what if I do?”

“Well - no, after last weekend I’m not sure if I ever want to drink again -”

“The most famous lie ever told,” he cuts in, grinning. You just roll your eyes, and pretend to be interested in perusing the records as you return to flipping through the crates.

“-but it just so happens that I do have plans tonight,” you say quietly.

“Hot date?”

You scoff. “I’m going to Fuze Box. Nancy’s covering some bands for an article for the campus paper, and I figured I’d check out who's playing tonight.”

WAMC has a long-standing relationship with Fuze Box, a small music venue for local artists and college bands. A lot of students and station members play there, and shows at the Box get advertised a lot on the air. You try to go to local gigs as much as you can - though, you haven’t made as much of an effort lately, too overwhelmed by other responsibilities as station manager. Nancy’s article is a good excuse to go, for the first time all semester.

“So, you don’t know any of the bands playing tonight?” he asks, leaning against a shelf and crossing his arms.

You shake your head. “Nope - just figured I’d check it out, go in blind. Maybe I’ll even put some of the bands in my radio slot next week, if they’re selling CDs or something.”

Steve grins mischievously.

“Right - well, have fun, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, and know that any semblance of an awkward peace between you two is gone - the Steve you know and love (to hate) is back. You turn to make a clever retort, but he’s gone, having stalked off to a different aisle.

You’re not sure what he’s up to, but part of you now has a sneaking suspicion that he might show up at the venue tonight just to piss you off - it’s such a Steve move.

As you go to the checkout, you do your best to shake it - after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

*****

“Thank you - we’ve been Lime of Decision - goodnight!” the lead singer shouts, a collection of hollers and applause following. The lights go up a bit, some venue staff coming out to the stage to adjust the equipment for the next band.

“Lime Of Decision is… a choice,” Nancy says, scribbling something into her notebook.

“Yeah, that’s because their name is literally meant to be a joke,” you say absentmindedly.

“What?”

“Jason, the lead singer? His ex-girlfriend is in a band called Lemon Of Choice, so it’s like…funny. I think.”

Nancy chuckles, shaking her head.

“Which band is better?”

“Definitely hers,” you say immediately.

You and Nancy both stare at each other for a moment, and break into a fit of giggles.

“I’m going to get another drink, you want anything?” she asks.

You shake your head, holding up the cup of beer you’re still nursing from the beginning of the last band’s set.

She disappears into the crowd, and you sigh, taking a drink as you once again survey the room. If Steve actually is here, you haven’t spotted him yet - maybe he decided that getting on your nerves wasn’t worth actually paying the cover at the door. Or, maybe he actually had more important plans - maybe even with that girl he was all cozy with at the party -

You stop yourself - why do you care? If anything, it should be a good thing that he doesn’t seem to be here. 

There’s two more bands left to go - you had glanced at the flier on the way in, but only recognized Lime Of Decision in the lineup. So, when Nancy returns with a new drink and the lights begin to dim again, you just hope the next band is better - it can really be hit or miss at these sorts of shows.

Darius, the radio station’s tech engineer, is emceeing the show. He steps out on stage to introduce the next band, earning a smattering of cheers and hollers thrown in his direction.

“Alright, alright everyone! Settle down - that includes you, Hagan - Jesus Christ, okay - can we give it up for the amazing bands we’ve heard so far tonight?”

You clap along with the rest of the crowd, rolling our eyes at the sound of particularly rowdy hollers from the back that you just know comes from Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin.

Darius’ eyes narrow.

“Dammit, Munson - when I said a month-long ban, I meant it -”

You glance back to see Eddie flipping Darius off - famously, Corroded Coffin got a temporary suspension from Fuze Box for smoking weed in the green room. But, the ban actually being enforced… not likely.

Darius rolls his eyes, struggling to get the room back on track as he taps the microphone.

“Okay, okay - everyone, can we please - if you all can shut the fuck up - okay, whatever. The next band up tonight - you guys know and love. They’re a Fuze Box favorite - and no, they are not promising anything with the name. Give it up for Free Beer!

You can’t help but laugh at the band’s name - you instinctively turn to Nancy, who is doing her best to stifle a giggle as she writes something on her notepad, squinting in the dark.

It’s during those few seconds while you’re looking away that the band takes the stage - which is why, when you glance back, you freeze as you see who’s standing front-and-center.

Steve stands at the mic stand, an electric guitar slung over his shoulders as he smiles at the crowd.

You freeze. Other band members - including Robin and Argyle, who you know all too well from the radio station - come out onto the stage behind him. But you’re just staring at Steve, dumbfounded.

You knew he had a band - scheduling them to perform on the air was always a nightmare for you, which you knew Steve did on purpose. So, you had never learned anything about them on-principle. You hadn’t heard a lick of music, didn’t know who else was in it, or even the goddamn name - until right now.

Nancy’s eyes are on you, you can feel it. You turn briefly to look at her.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks, glancing at where Steve stands on stage. You shake your head.

“God, no! I - I’m an adult, I can be in the same room as Harrington,” you say, laughing nervously. You’re not sure how much you believe yourself. She stares at you for a moment, then just nods, turning her attention back to the stage, where Steve is stepping up to the mic.

“Hey guys - we’re Free Beer. I’m Steve -”

A few feminine voices cheer from the back. Your eyes roll so far to the back of your head that you’re worried you’ll go blind.

“Thanks, ladies, love the enthusiasm. So - let’s just get into it. Ready to hear some songs?”

There’s an eruption of cheers through the audience - one of the biggest reactions of the night so far.

“Alright - this one is called ‘Closer,’ I hope you enjoy.”

From the moment he plays the first chord, something shifts in the room. The crowd becomes less rowdy, less chatty. No - everyone is really listening. Some are even singing along - how the fuck do this many people know the words? 

You want to hate it - you want the set to be something you’re tolerating, something that makes you look forward to the next band coming out. But, despite your efforts, that’s not what happens. Because the band is good. Robin is killer on bass, and Argyle is a formidable drummer, despite his perpetually laid-back persona. And Steve - it’s like he was born to do this.

Aside from having a pretty good voice, and being an excellent guitarist, he’s actually a good frontman. He’s charismatic, knows how to work the crowd, and somehow, he makes the tiny stage of the Fuze Box feel as exciting as Live Aid. 

You want to scream - of course he’s good. You catch yourself moving along to the music every now and then, and immediately stop yourself, hoping nobody sees. At one point, you swear Steve sees you. His eyes land on yours - or, at least, in your direction. You think you imagine it - it’s a big enough crowd, and you’re far enough back that he probably can’t see past the first few rows. That is, until he smirks, in the way that you know he reserves only to taunt you, to challenge you.

Fuck.

*****

You find yourself heading down the hallway after Steve’s set - you’re looking for the bathroom, shouldering through the bodies packed into the narrow passage. Part of it is because your beer has finally gone through you, and more so because you need a minute of peace and quiet, just to stare at yourself in the mirror and talk some sense into yourself. Steve’s band can’t be good - that would be a problem. If you didn’t know who was part of it, they’re the kind of band you would buy records for, keep a spare CD in your car, and even include as part of your radio show. But…it's Steve.

You had purposely never gone to any of his shows - you never listened to any in-studio sessions they did at the station, and God knows you would never ask Steve about his music. What the fuck?

Part of you also wants to smack him - of course he was performing here tonight - he looked you in the eye at the record store today, heard you were coming here tonight, and said nothing. Next time you see him, you decide, you’ll ignore him - you won’t even acknowledge that you saw him perform. If he asks, you’ll tell him you left the show early, long before he came on stage. You won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking you sat through his whole set, let alone enjoyed it.

You can’t exactly remember where the bathroom is - was it all the way at the end of the hallway? None of the doors are really labeled, which tracks for Fuze Box.

You knock on a few doors and jiggle the handles - one is an electrical closet, the other is locked and seemingly empty. You finally reach a door at the end, and give it a gentle knock - nobody responds. You try the knob, and it gives way. After shouldering your way inside, you wish you hadn’t.

Apparently, instead of the bathroom, you’ve managed to find the green room - although, to call the backstage area of the Fuze Box a green room is generous. It’s really a tiny room with a worn out couch, a cracked glass coffee table littered with ashtrays, and lighting so dim that you have to squint to figure out exactly where you are as you slip through the door.

It’s only once you’re inside, when it’s too late, that you realize you’ve walked in on Steve.

His back is turned to you, but he jumps slightly and turns when he hears the door open. He’s wiping his brow with a towel, and he grins when he sees you.

“Hey, sweetheart - wasn’t expecting to see you back here.”

You stand in the doorway awkwardly - why couldn’t the rest of his band be hanging out here with him? That way, you could throw out a blanket ‘you guys were great’ statement. But now it’s just him, staring at you, his face saying why the fuck are you here?

“Oh - sorry - I’m in the wrong room,” you say quickly, your face feeling hot as you start to back away.

“Okay - sure you are,” Steve says sarcastically.

“What does that mean?” you ask, stopping your retreat.

He shrugs. “Don’t know - you just seem to always conveniently stumble into me, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Try to stop me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you just groan with frustration, taking a few steps towards him.

“Jesus, I - I don’t know if it’s like, a weird sick game to you, or you’re just always trying to piss me off - or if you just can’t help and flirt with everyone -”

“You think I’m flirting with you?” he asks, grinning mischievously.

You stop, folding your arms in indignation.

“No - I mean, kind of, but probably as a joke - I know what you’re up to, Harrington.”

“And what exactly am I up to?”

“This bullshit you keep pulling,” you say, gesturing between you two. “This - like, always sabotaging my shit, and getting in my way - but then like, this stupid nice-guy thing, where you drive me home when I’m drunk and don’t tell anyone, but then like you trick me into watching your stupid band perform -”

He scoffs. “Trick you? Be serious -”

“You knew I’d be here tonight - you knew, and didn’t say anything -”

“Well given your track record, sweetheart, if you had known I’d be playing, I’m sure you would’ve been front row!”

You stop mid-sentence, mouth hanging open as you try to search inwardly for a reply. Your face feels hot all of a sudden.

He’s smirking now, just like he did on stage. As always, he’s too confident, too sarcastic, too Steve. He’s taken away your ability to even come up with a halfway decent retort. It pisses you off.

“I - that’s not -”

Your blood is rushing to your head, roaring in your ears, too enraged to even let you think straight anymore. You’re marching right up to him now, prodding his chest with your finger.

“I don’t like you,” you say. 

“You don’t say?” he drawls, still smiling. Why is he smiling?

“Stop doing that -”

“Doing what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Stop distracting me -”

“I distract you?”

You want to kick yourself.

“I - well - only because you’re so -”

“Devilishly handsome?”

“-fucking annoying.”

He cocks his head, like you’ve only mildly piqued his curiosity instead of insulted him.

You sigh. “What?”

“It’s just - you didn’t seem to find me very annoying last weekend when you tried to kiss me.”

A beat. You just stand there, jaw agape as his words hang in the air between you like smoke on a hazy summer’s day.

“That’s not funny,” you manage to say.

“Does it look like I’m laughing?”

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are to him - the next band has started outside, a distant din that should be distracting. But all you can focus on is Steve - the beads of sweat on his forehead, the way you’re close enough to smell that he had just had a cigarette.

“I didn’t -”

“Sweetheart - right before you puked your guts up in my bathroom, you tried to stick your tongue down my throat. Don’t worry - I didn’t let you. I really thought you would’ve remembered, until I saw you in the record store - then I realized you didn’t remember jack shit.”

You feel like you’re making this up. He’s just saying this to get under your skin - he must be. It’s the only explanation. Because you’d never - 

“You’re lying.”

But he’s just staring at you, and you’re starting to get the sickening suspicion that this isn’t a joke.

“You’re lying,” you repeat, though it sounds more like a question this time.

He’s taking another step towards you, shaking his head.

“You know what they say, sweetheart - in vino vesco, or whatever. You know - how people say and do what they’re really thinking when they’re drunk -”

“Veritas.”

He stops, furrowing his brow.

“I - what?”

You can’t help yourself - you just can’t.

“The phrase is in vino veritas - it means truth. I think vesco means food or something, you’re missing the whole  -”

“Shut up,” he says. “You’re always such a -”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you’re kissing him. You don’t mean to do it, you swear - but he had gotten so close, the heat radiating off of him too much to ignore. And, he was really pissing you off - you didn’t need to hear another word out of his mouth.

You fist your hands in his t-shirt, your lips on his, messy and desperate, like you’re trying to prove a point. And he’s kissing you back.

Steve kisses the same way he argues - he’s aggressive, his hands coming up to grab your face and pull you closer. He tastes like cigarettes and cheap beer, his aura hot and desperate as it envelops you. 

The band plays out in the venue, the audience cheering and singing along - but, all you can hear is Steve’s labored breath against your lips, your own heart thudding in your chest.

The kiss was all teeth and tongue, another argument you were both desperate to win. But, right now, you’re losing. Because he’s guiding your body, and you’re responding, stepping backwards until your back is hitting the cinderblock wall.

No words are spoken, just breathy moans and the sounds of your lips moving in unison. It’s not remotely romantic - it feels more like fuck you, I’m trying so hard to hate you, why can’t you let me -

One of his hands has traveled down to your waist, gripping it firmly enough to tell you that he wanted more. You feel his hand start to move, slipping under the hem of your shirt and gently brushing the warm skin of your lower back. His hands are calloused, rough against the softness of your skin. You let him start to explore, unable to stop yourself from quietly moaning against his lips. 

You know you should stop - but you can’t. It’s addicting, the way he’s still fighting with you as his tongue enters your mouth. Is this really happening? Maybe this could’ve gone on for hours. That is, until -

The knock on the door makes you both jump, pulling apart as quickly as you had crashed together. Steve is staring at you, breathing heavily, his pupils blown and lips a bit swollen. You imagine you look similarly. He takes a step back, separately himself from where you’re still frozen against the wall.

“Yeah?” Steve calls, voice rougher than before.

“Are you decent?” a voice asks from the other side of the door, barely audible over the sound of the band currently on stage.

Steve looks like he’s fighting laughter, but he just shakes his head, back facing the doorway.

“Nope - you’re good,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again.

He doesn’t need to say it - the look he’s shooting your way is enough.

Not a word.

Robin enters, grinning.

“Hey, we were just going to - oh, hi.”

She’s spotted you, and you just know she has questions.

“Hey, Robin,” you say quietly. “I, uh - I was looking for the bathroom. Ended up in here - I was just telling Steve how much I liked your set.”

Robin beams. “Thanks! It’s fun to see that you came out - haven’t seen you at a gig in a while!”

You nod. “Oh, yeah - I’ve been trying to get myself out there more -”

Steve scoffs, and you want to slap him. If Robin notices, she doesn’t say anything.

“- but, um - I should go.”

Robin nods. 

“Yeah - I was just coming to find Steve, we’re all going to head to WT’s for a drink - uh, do you want to come?”

She’s probably just being polite. But, you shake your head vigorously.

“No, I’m good - sounds like it’s a band thing. I should get going anyway - I’ll catch the end of this set,” you say, gesturing towards the sound of the band on stage echoing from down the hall. You still haven’t made eye contact with Steve, not since Robin entered the room. So, you just give her a curt nod, and do everything in your power to head out the door without looking like you’re bolting.  You’re screwed.

author's note: thanks for your patience y'all! I'm going away to Ireland on a work trip for about 3 weeks starting tomorrow, so I'm hoping to do some writing while I'm there, but no promises! As always, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

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[sungbeam]

nonidol!kim younghoon x f!reader

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block.

▷ genre, warnings. friends 2 lovers, mutual pining, college au, swearing, fluff, humor, comfort, reader has crowd anxiety, reader has a lot of siblings lol, mentions of math/physics/chemistry/etc sorry it was necessary for the character, kissing, puns and pick-up lines, mentions of academic stress, lots of carbs haha, drinking, guys younghoon was my first bias and im remembering why

▷ total wc. 29.3k (TUMBLR MADE ME CUT OUT SO MUCH I FKN HATE THIS HELLSITE)

this is the seventh installment of the love in unity series! this should be fine as a standalone, but there are multiple references to party people & i highly encourage u to read it!; all other yns will be referred to as _!yn. (ayc occurs DURING party people)

a/n: in an alternate world, i would still be obsessed w kim younghoon, isn't that crazy. anyways, enjoy + reblog!

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OF ALL THE COSMIC COINCIDENCES

KIM Jungwoo's message materialized on your lock screen in a bombardment of photons: Hey, you sure you don't wanna come with us tonight? Feel free to still join :')

You slung the strap of your bag over your head and shoulders before shooting him a reply. No thanks Woo :') Appreciate it though! Have fun tonight <3.

Some of the people in the social circle you orbited were heading to the bay tonight for a bonfire rager to celebrate (read: mourning) the beginning of the new university term. Though you hadn’t seen many of the people attending tonight in a couple months, you were never much for big crowds. Plus, the start of the school year brought a whole dumpster fire of things to worry about, so taking a quiet evening with yourself would be well worth it to keep your head on straight.

With the message sent, you hauled your apartment door open and headed out into the late evening. There was a convenient store at the end of the street a couple blocks over that you had been frequenting since freshman year, and you could taste the sweet brioche buns as the store’s fluorescent lights entered your view. It was a small corner store that reminded you much of a traditional 7/11, except there was a corner inside the store where patrons could eat and chill, and the food, arguably, tasted better than alright.

(The seating area inside this place had definitely seen many of your midterm and finals grind nights. And tears. There were lots of tear stains on those tables.)

Your roommate and good friend Miyawaki Sakura often accompanied you here whenever you came to do some studying, shopping, or recreational snacking. Tonight, she was holed up in her room video chatting with some of her cousins in Japan, but most other nights she would be online playing some kind of first person shooter game.

The walk to the nearby convenience store was a short, yet familiar one. You played a song at a faded volume in your earbuds, your hands tucked into the safety of your pockets. It was a warm night out, as late summer clung onto the coattails of early autumn, leaving a strange mixture of green, red, and yellow in the trees. The streets weren’t barren—plenty of people were out and about on a Saturday night—and still, you tilted your head up to the sky to appreciate the beauty of the obsidian sky.

When you reached the end of the block, you entered into the comfortable embrace of the convenience store. It was quiet, as expected, with only the muffled sound of jazz acoustics from the overhead speakers as white noise. The latter combined with the noise from your own device made it all the easier for you to be unaware of the other people here with you.

Your mouth was already watering from the mental image of brioche, and you made a sharp swerve into the familiar bread aisle when you realized—oh, you weren’t alone.

Standing exactly where you knew the brioche buns were stationed was a tall, lanky man with a pair of earbuds hanging from his own ears, one hand examining one of the bread packages while the other was tucked away in his pocket. His dark colored bangs were shaggy and hung in his eyes, but you could’ve recognized that side profile from a mile away. You’d spent nearly half a quarter staring at it, after all—the other half was looking at his front profile and forehead, but those were just as identifiable.

For a moment you stood at the mouth of the aisle weighing your options. Did you say hello, or did you walk away and pretend you didn’t see him?

He decided for you.

Kim Younghoon glanced up from the bread after feeling your eyes on him for a considerable beat of time. He blinked once before you saw the sharp surprise in his expression melt away into soft fondness. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckled, tugging his earbuds out with a charming smile. “Long time no see, Yn.”

You mirrored his actions and slipped the wires into your pocket. “Long time no see,” you agreed, returning his pleasant expression.

You met Younghoon just last year when he stumbled into the math tutoring center with his head held high and a notebook full of question marks. While your friends on shift at that time (Chanhee coaching someone through their linear algebra worksheet; Jungwoo yanking his hair follicles out with a group of freshmen over trigonometry) were busy, it was you who ultimately became Younghoon’s go-to calculus tutor. For the quarter that he took calculus, you helped the drama major through it.

Of course, finding a drama major in a calculus class was a rare occasion, but you both blamed the university’s awful general education requirement. Either way, you’d both found a friend and good company in one another. It didn’t help that he was terribly charismatic, and often filled the spaces in between long text messages about how to calculate the cross-section area of a vase with “good morning”s, “good luck on your midterm!”s, and corny STEM-themed one-liners.

Younghoon was the kind of guy people took home to meet their parents. Not… not that you ever thought about him like that. It was just what you overheard from this group of girls in the tutoring center once—

“I guess we both had the same idea tonight then,” he chuckled as you came to stand beside him to scour the shelf for your victim tonight.

You hummed. “I guess so,” you said. “I usually don’t see you in this area of the district though.” Because you definitely would have seen him. You lived around here, after all.

“Oh,” he grabbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “it’s a funny story actually. I dropped my friends off at a party and I went to the store near them and they had no good selection of bread.” He made a helpless gesture. “So I couldn’t just accept defeat, and now I’ve ended up here.”

You plucked a package of soft brioche from the shelf, then passed him an amused look. There was something unfair about how the harsh LED lights fell so lightly over his facial features. “I guess some form of cosmic coincidence brought us bread-lovers here.”

Younghoon knocked his bread package against yours like he was cheering a glass of champagne. “And might I say what excellent taste you have.”

That drew a laugh from you. “Ditto.”

He pursed his lips then, considering you. “So what social event are you dodging tonight, Miss Mastermind?” Younghoon’s eyebrows arched upwards at you, and you suddenly took on the sheepishness he had before. Though, you definitely noted that familiar nickname that followed his question. You wondered if that was still the name your contact was saved under in his phone. (If he even still had your contact information saved.)

You raised the palm of your hand up to hide half of your face from comical shame. “Now why would you just assume that I’m here because I’m avoiding a social call?”

“Yah,” he chided jokingly, “because I know you.” His eyes turned up to the ceiling for a moment before he added, “And you’re friends with Kim Jungwoo.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

He laughed. “Gotcha.”

“And you say I'm the mastermind?” You quipped back at him, all light-hearted. When he first dubbed you with the nickname, you hadn't known what to do about it. He claimed it was because you somehow made learning calculus fun for him—some “sorcery,” as he accused back then.

“You are!” He exclaimed with excited, wide eyes. “You've hexed me with a love for math puns and acute angles,” he groaned melodramatically, clutching his chest like his heart was about to burst for added effect.

You clicked your tongue, unable to hide your amusement. “Acute angles is a new one.”

“'Cause they remind me of a-cute-ies like you,” he said with his hand shaped into a finger gun, tongue between his teeth.

Your hand went over your face again. “I forgot that you did that.”

“You missed it!”

The smile on your face couldn't even be fully covered with your hand. Maybe you did miss it—or maybe it was just him. When the quarter had wrapped up last year and Younghoon was no longer taking calculus, neither of you had any “excuse” to be around each other anymore. Though you still had his number, you always chickened out of texting him to see how he was doing or if he wanted to hang out.

In your mind, Younghoon was always too cool for you. You didn't feel like you fit into his world.

Younghoon took your hand and drew it away from your face, a slow smile filling his lips. “There she is. You missed me.”

“If you stop asking, I will pay for your bread.”

“As if I'm going to let you do that,” he shook his head. “I'll take that as a yes.”

You both began making your way over to the counter to purchase your individual pastries. You always knew Younghoon liked bread, and you shouldn't be so surprised that he drove halfway down the district just to find a specific brioche bun. It was funny and strange how the universe worked. At times you wondered if the probability of fate could be calculated—

“So it's just you tonight?” You asked him as the two of you lingered just outside the convenience store with your freshly purchased breads in hand. You had both immediately torn into your brioche as soon as you cleared the threshold, and the fluffy pastry filled your mouth and stomach with utter joy. It was buttery and sweet and soft… perfection.

Younghoon shoved the piece in his mouth into his cheek. “For the most part, yeah,” he replied, his shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “You?”

“Yeah, Kkura's at home, but she's on call with someone. Jungwoo did invite me out to that big bonfire at the bay tonight, but…” You shook your head.

His head tilted slightly. “Oh yeah I heard about that.” For a second, he didn't say anything, and then he murmured, “Crowd anxiety.”

You hummed, eyes shooting over to his. “Hm?”

“Crowd anxiety, right?” He asked with more confidence. “I—you can correct me if I'm wrong—but I just remember you mentioning something about crowd anxiety last year.”

Your chewing slowed for a moment, and a small smile curled onto your lips. “No, you got it right.” He remembered. Of course, he remembered. A warm feeling made itself comfortable in your chest.

Younghoon seemed to brighten. “Good, I'm glad I remembered correctly,” he said while leaning his shoulder against the wall of the convenience store. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did you ever happen to watch that performance of 12 Angry Jurors I recommended?”

Uh oh. You could physically feel your neurons spark at the familiar title. It was the equivalent to a bell—no, alarm—rattling around inside your noggin.

Younghoon threw his head back in a laugh at how your face rearranged into an expression of pure mortification. "You look like I just caught you with a hand in the canary cage—oh my god, you should see your face!"

You were helpless at this point, and no words were coming to your tongue to rescue you. Screw all the differential calculus—where was language ability when you needed it? “I can explain myself,” was all you came up with.

He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing you with a pointed look, albeit still amused. "I'd love to hear this."

“You know that some things just slip my mind—”

“Yes, and that's why I watched you put it into your calendar.”

“And you know that the school has a bad habit of scheduling big events on the same night—”

He cocked a brow at you, leaning forward slightly. “I don't like where this is going, you workaholic.”

You gestured at him with the piece of bread in between your fingers, and he had to cover his mouth to keep from snorting. “I am not a workaholic,” you said firmly.

“Sure you aren't,” he replied back in a tone that indicated he thought the exact opposite.

“Anyways, they put the research symposium on the same night as the last showing—”

“Ah-ha!” He cried with a triumphant finger pointed at the sky. You were convinced that any second now, he was going to start twiddling an immaculately curled mustache. “So you did procrastinate!”

You pressed your lips together as you crumpled your empty packaging, then raised a finger up to scratch your head sheepishly. “Maybe I did.”

Younghoon drew out an exhale. “Aye, I knew it. You know, I think you're just about married to your work, Yn-ah.” His mouth quirked to the side and he scratched the underside of his jaw. “But I guess that's not a bad thing.”

You gave a small wince. “You're not mad I missed the play?”

“Mad? No, of course not. It wasn't my play,” he joked. “I know you have priorities, and me being mad would just be silly.”

“But you are disappointed,” you countered pointedly.

“Disappointed for you,” he countered. “That was a pretty good performance of 12 Angry Jurors. Though… there is one part that I would have chosen to represent differently, but…” He shrugged, letting the thought float out into the ether.

“What is it?” You prompted.

His lip curled upward and he let out a little chuckle. “I'm not telling you; it'll spoil the ending!”

You were unconvinced. “I'm never gonna see the play, Hoon.”

“Not with that attitude,” he shot back.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of you from his sass that came out of left field for you. The sound of your joy made his smile widen and his eyes narrow into pretty, upturned crescent moons. The warmth all around you wasn't just from the evening's temperature. You'd forgotten just how easy it was to talk to Younghoon, and you decided that yes, you definitely missed him. But with all good things, it was written with a curtain call.

Younghoon seemed reluctant to push off of the wall and away from you. “Well, I shouldn't keep you any longer,” he said. There was a down turned angle to the corners of his smile now. “I do need to go re-find parking for when I have to go hunt my drunk friends down.”

Your laugh was small. “Good luck with that. And… don't worry about keeping me anywhere too long.”

“Thanks, and I'll keep that in mind.” His tongue stuck out between his teeth for a second, his head ducking down to shake his hair out of his eyes. “Hey, you still have my phone number, right?”

“I do.”

Whether harsh or dim lighting, it highlighted his features beautifully regardless. His eyes twinkled. “Now I know you won't ignore me if I send you another calc pun.”

“I'll look forward to it,” you promised.

The two of you were beginning to step toward your opposite directions, but failed to make your legs move any further. “Get home safe, Yn,” he murmured in goodbye. The possibility of him never reaching out crossed your mind. It wasn't like you didn't have faith that he would; rather, it was your own thoughts creeping into your head that you two came from different worlds. Despite the friendliness between you, that was the whole reason you shied away from ever reaching out. It was nothing personal against him.

EPISODE TWO: PASS GO & COLLECT TWO HUNDRED

GRAVITY reminded you of its existence when a bundle of fabric hit you square in the head. (Then again, you were always reminded of gravity’s existence when you thought about it…) “Yah—hey!” You clawed the article of fabric off your head and whirled around in your desk chair with a scowl. “Kkura!”

Sakura blinked innocently from where she stood at your closet, hand on her hip. “Put it on.”

You made a face as you straightened out the garment in your hands, the frown deepening when you realized which top it was. Or rather, which dress it was. “I haven’t seen this since I unpacked my clothes from boxes two years ago,” you whistled lowly. It was a black satin piece, something you brought along with you from home in case you ever decided to go to an event that called for a cocktail dress. Most of the formal events you attended though usually allowed you to get away with dress pants and a blouse. This poor piece of fabric had been relegated to the back of your closet since.

Your friend resumed sorting through your clothes for any alternatives or more of that kind. “I didn’t even know you owned something like that. I thought all your bottoms clung to your ankles unless they were shorts.”

“I have variety,” you sniffed and draped the dress over the back of your chair. “And what's wrong with bottoms going to my ankles? I like when they get to be warm.”

“That's what socks and shoes are for.”

“Says the girl who wears jeans that pretty much cover her shoes.”

Sakura shot you a look that reminded you of when your mother was exasperated, but she didn't want to admit that you were right. “Okay, so maybe we both have problems. But that's besides the point!” She walked away from your closet to sit herself on the edge of your bed, her hand dragging the arm of your desk chair to roll you over away from your desk. “We're going to a party tonight!”

She beamed, waving her hands around. When you only gave her a blank stare, she cleared her throat. “Ahem, I said, we're going to a party tonight! Woo!”

You pursed your lips. “Not very woo, to be honest.”

“You're not very woo,” she quipped in a deadpan.

“No, no, no!” You cut in, waving your finger back and forth. “Don't pretend like you wouldn't rather stay home than party either. And besides, you know that I don't do crowds.” You gazed off into space as if recalling the Great War with glazed-over eyes, already smelling the sweat and booze, and feeling the suffocating pressure in your chest as people squished up against you, and as you lost sight of your friend or anyone you knew for that matter, in the sea of—

“I know,” Sakura pushed out an exhale, and your eyes shuddered as you came out of that headspace. “But I think it'll be good for us. I mean, you need to get your eyes away from that grant application for one second, and I—”

“Need to stop playing League?” You suggested cheekily.

Your friend's scowl coaxed a high pitched wheezing sound out of you. She pursed her lips. “I was going to offer to hold your hand while we were in the house, but I guess not—”

“Okay, now let's not get ahead of ourselves!” You countered. The glint in Sakura's eyes when you interrupted her told you all you needed to know. Damn her cleverness; she'd got you once again.

Maybe she was the real mastermind.

Two hours later—the both of you dolled up and willpower strong (ish)—you clung to Sakura's hand as you and she slipped into the lively host house for tonight's festivities. Sweat already dampened the lines in your palm, and you moved your grip on your friend to hold onto her arm instead. You hadn't been to a house party or a frat party in a while, the last one being a birthday party for one of your friends from differential calculus turning twenty-one.

This instance was different. For one, there were far too many people packed together per square inch. And second, who thought turning down the lights was a good idea? You were already half blind as it was…

“I think we should get a drink!” Sakura shouted as she sent you an encouraging smile.

Your eyes widened as you narrowly missed getting someone's shoulder shoved into your face. “Yes, a drink sounds great!”

It was a war zone as the two of you maneuvered yourselves through the crowded living room space. The only reason people seemed to converge in that room in particular was because it had been turned into a makeshift dance floor. There were also people seated on the stairs, leaning over the upstairs landing, and meandering around in the halls.

You could feel your head begin to fog up as you unconsciously shifted closer to Sakura's side. Your friend curled her arm around your shoulders, deftly guiding you through the fray to the light at the end of the tunnel—the kitchen. There was a distinct lightening of your chest as you stepped foot into the less crowded space. The kitchen was still only dimly lit with the most minimal of light switches flipped on, but it was still enough where you could at least see your hand in front of your face and the light layer of sweat on Sakura’s brow. You made a swift scan of the area and spotted three people over by the kitchen counter, one of whom was slumped over the countertop, dozing off.

Oh, to be him right now.

“Oh, hello,” greeted one of the trio. He was stationed behind the counter like a bartender, his purple bangs brushed out of his face. The girl with him lifted her hand in a friendly wave.

“Hi, we’re not—uh, interrupting or anything?” Sakura said as your hold on her arm loosened considerably now that you were in an area that was much less crowded.

The two of them shook their heads with too much enthusiasm. “No, no! Definitely not.”

You and Sakura exchanged glances of incredulity, but didn’t push the topic any further. With pleasantries aside, the two of you excused yourselves to peruse the display of alcoholic beverages on the island space. You knew Sakura could hold her alcohol a decent amount, and so could you, so you both looked around for bottles of flavored soju to hold you over for the evening.

You dug around in one of the coolers and withdrew twin bottles of strawberry-flavored ones. “Kkura!”

Her blue-colored head perked up and she brightened as you waved your treasures around in the air. “Ooh, yay! You know, I think we should restock our stash of melon soju at home,” she mused and came over to where you were.

With your drinks secured, you each took the first sip like a shot, then linked arms to face the crowd again.

Drinking either made your anxiety rocket or relax—it depended on the beverage and the kind of day you’d had, but as you nursed your bottle for moments longer, the heaviness in your chest began to gradually recede.

The crowd anxiety you harbored was a byproduct of being the middle child of five siblings. You loved your family to bits, but sometimes home life was overwhelming. It wasn't that you got nervous around people, but more so in large bodies of people. The first year or so of your university life spent in large undergraduate lectures were absolute hell; there was an appeal to the upper division classes besides specialized interests.

But your friends were all aware and took good care of you, which you were more than grateful for.

“Is it just me—” Sakura said to you loudly with blue and purple lights painting her features, “—or does this soju taste really good tonight?”

You smacked your lips together as you savored the sweet taste. “You're definitely right,” you said. “We might have to go back for more.”

“If we can remember how to get there,” she giggled.

“Wait, what's in here?” You steered the two of you into a doorway to your left.

From the looks of the massive table stretching from one end to the next, you had stumbled upon the dining room. The room was large enough for there to be a few different groups of people occupying sections, but the largest one took reign over the farthest end. Your eyes widened in delight when you recognized two people in particular. “Oh wow.”

“Yn?” Chanhee exclaimed in disbelief. He was partly hunched over what looked like a board game as his deft fingers counted out paper money. “You're here?”

Everyone—well, almost everyone—turned their heads to see who Chanhee was talking about. Nonetheless, there were still quite the amount of eyes looking at you and you felt your palms begin to get sweaty around your bottle neck.

Younghoon gasped. “YN!” He grinned, lumbering over with his jelly-like limbs, tripping over people's legs and chairs. You could see the alcohol in his expression before you smelled it, but you couldn't just not hug him when he wrapped his arms around you in greeting. You hadn't seen him since last week at the convenience store but even then, the surprise had yet to escape you. What a cosmic coincidence.

“Hey, Hoon,” you chuckled in amusement, patting his back affectionately. You didn't know he would be so affectionate when drunk, but then again, this was the first time you were experiencing him like this.

“Big guy's a little drunk,” Sakura observed, then lifted her bottle to her lips. “Are you guys playing Monopoly?”

One of the guys, who looked the most of sound mind and state, nodded. “Yeah. D'you guys wanna play?”

Younghoon placed his hands on your shoulders with a goofy grin slipping onto his face as he pulled away. “You should play with us! Guys—” he announced to his friends, “—this is my bestest friend, Yn!”

“And her friend, Sakura,” you cut in, gesturing to Sakura with jazz hands.

“And we would love to play,” Sakura added.

You passed her a glance. There was mischief dancing in her eyes. You supposed at least you knew what you were getting into before jumping into any game with the Miyawaki Sakura. These poor chumps never stood a chance.

“Okay, but Chanhee's the iron,” remarked one of the other boys while you, Sakura, and Younghoon made your way over to where they all were gathered.

You snorted at Chanhee's less than pleased expression. “Why does he insist that you be the flat iron?” You nudged your friend. You met Chanhee and Jungwoo in a shared freshman differential calculus class where the three of you weathered the war together.

Chanhee sighed, his tongue poking his cheek. “Because apparently I have no ass.”

“BECAUSE YOU DON'T!”

“NEITHER DO YOU!”

With none of that settled, a good majority of the people present gathered around the Monopoly board on the table to play. You, Sakura, and Chanhee all clambered onto the dining table to sit while the others rounded the end of the table. It also gave you a little room to breathe while playing with such a large group.

“Ladies first,” declared one of the boys, who's name you learned was Sunwoo, his eyes at half mast and cheeks flushed like red grapefruit.

“If you insist,” Sakura sang and did a little dance as she swiped the dice up to roll.

You placed a hand over your eyes jokingly. “Look away!”

Haknyeon blinked with his eyes wide. “Why?”

“Because she's about to win faster than you can say pass go and collect two hundred.”

In retrospect, you saw this coming. Even if the universe could construct more possible futures than you had atoms on the tip of your pinky finger, you definitely could have seen this coming.

The aftermath immediately following Sakura's utter domination of the Monopoly board left all of her opponents in a sputtering mess. Your friend dusted her fingers off as if there were crumbs on them, a very satisfied Cheshire's cat grin crawling onto her lips. “You can fight it or just accept it,” she shrugged, taking the last swing of her soju.

Eric stared up at her from where he knelt in front of the table, gripping the edge with his palms. He was all wide-eyed and full of wonder. “Teach me your ways.”

“If you get me another soju,” she offered, gesturing with her empty bottle. She probably didn’t expect him to take her up on the offer, because her eyes widened a comical amount when the kid rocketed up to his feet and darted out of the room, faster than she could blink.

“Is he usually like that, so hyper?” You jested to Chanhee as you and he began reorganizing the paper money.

Your pink-haired friend laughed. “Kind of. Youngjae's cute.”

“And what am I, Channieeee?” Came an inebriated Changmin. He teetered over to where you and Chanhee were, then unceremoniously draped himself over the latter's back.

“Ahhhhhh,” Chanhee groaned, “Ji Changmin!”

“Answer my question!” His friend slurred. “I think Yn thinks I'm cute. D'you think I'm cute?” He asked, gazing up with you in a deep pout and puppy dog eyes.

“Don't answer that question, Yn. It's like making a deal with the Devil.”

Changmin scoffed, straightening to a surprisingly perfect posture. He slapped a hand to his chest in offense. “How could you! Chanhee-ssi! We're supposed to be friends!”

You chuckled, leaning out of that dumpster fire of a conversation, and finding yourself in the company of one very loopy bread enthusiast. Younghoon had slipped back from watching the game about three quarters of the way through and slumped into a chair with a can of beer and his phone. At some point, you had given up on Monopoly, too, and considered joining him. Now, you really did move over to join him.

His head perked up when you leaned over and poked his shoulder, a smile coming to his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled back. “Tired?”

He gave a slow, drawn-out nod. “Mhm,” he hummed. He lifted the can of beer to his lips and finished it off, then dropped his phone into his lap so he could rest his face between his hands. “I'm kind of hungry.”

You laughed. “I bet. How much did you drink, Hoon?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged.

“Long week?”

“Veeeery long week,” he nodded. “Like…” He spread his arms to his full wingspan, “this much.”

A giggle bubbled out of your mouth at how adorable he was when he was drunk.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “Oh my gosh, Yn! I never sent you the joke I found,” he frowned. “I found it and thought about sending it to you, but then…”

“You forgot?” You offered.

“I just didn't wanna bother you, to be honest.”

Oh. Something in you softened a great deal at the confession. You were always so sure that you would have been the bother, because it was difficult to imagine that someone who seemed so sure of himself like Younghoon might also feel the same. You mimicked his position with your hands holding up your face. “You're never a bother, Younghoon.”

“Even when I ask dumb questions about factoring?”

“There is no such thing as a dumb question.”

He pursed his lips into a line, unconvinced. “You're too nice. No wonder I liked doing math homework.”

You laughed again at the unexpected compliment, and Younghoon smiled to himself. “I'm glad you enjoyed doing your calc homework.”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then snapped it shut with wide, doe-like eyes. “I was going to say a joke, but I realized that I probably shouldn't say that one in particular.”

“Wow, you have a filter when you're drunk?” You teased.

“Hey!” He pretended to sulk. “I'm not that drunk!”

A beat passed, and then he said, “I am still hungry though.” Yeah, definitely drunk.

Within fifteen minutes, you convinced Sakura to accompany you and Younghoon to the convenience store a couple blocks from your apartment. The three of you together managed to snag Chanhee to drive you all, as well as Changmin as an accessory since he and Chanhee lived together. Younghoon had once again insisted on this place in particular because he thoroughly enjoyed the brioche bun from the other day and had been missing it since. You and he settled down at the seating area in the corner of the store with your freshly-purchased bread, while the others traipsed around in search of other sustenance.

Younghoon's cheeks were full of brioche as he muttered a muffled, “You know why I like—calculus jokes?” He swallowed his bite, his eyebrows braiding together as he stared at his now empty package.

You quietly plucked the empty bag out of his hands and replaced it with yours.

He melted at the action. “I do.”

You bursted into a fit of giggles and Younghoon followed straight after you. Your face filled with fire and his bloomed like a blood red rose. The alcohol was slowly settling in. You were a lot more refreshed now that you were outside of the crowd setting, and your chest felt much lighter. “You do?”

“I do,” he reaffirmed, tearing the last bit of bread apart for you both to share instead. “You know why I like—” he hiccupped with the bread half in his mouth. His face morphed into one of confusion, then utter disdain.

You stifled a laugh with your bite of carbs. “Why do you like calculus jokes, Younghoon?” You asked to help him out.

He swallowed his bite. “Because—trig jokes are too graphic and algebra ones are too for—” He hiccupped again, his eyes shooting up toward the ceiling in exasperation.

“Formulaic?” You offered.

Younghoon frowned. “You know this one?”

“I enjoy guessing.”

“Hm,” he grunted, unconvinced. “There is one outlier though.” When he hiccupped for the third time, you patiently waited for him to fill in the blank. “Statistics.”

A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I have to say, that was very subtle but very good.”

Younghoon beamed with pride. “I knew you would get i—” Another hiccup. He deadpanned. “I hate this.”

You stood up with a chuckle. “Let me get you some water.”

“Thanks,” he pouted. You felt his eyes on you the whole time you went over to the free water cooler over at the counter, and even as you brought him back the little paper cup of liquid.

As he drained the cup, you lingered next to where he sat rather than sitting back down. “Better?” You asked, then held your hand out to take the cup back if he wanted more.

He shook his head though, and he raised it up to his eyes while squinting one of them to aim it at the trash can behind your seat. “How do I get this exactly inside the trash?”

You blinked, eyeballing the distance between his seat and the trash can. The paper cup wasn't going to have a lot of weight while it was empty, but if he threw it with the opening facing him instead…

Younghoon made a noise that sounded a lot like a child's giggle. “Hehe, you're actually doing the math in your head.”

“You don't know that,” you muttered.

“Of course I know that.” He shucked the paper cup and it landed in the trash can with a clean swish sound. He threw his hands in the air. “Woo! Crowd goes wild.”

You laughed and slid back into your seat. “See, you didn't need math to get the cup into the trash can. Nice throw, Hoon.”

He grinned at you. “Thanks. You know how I knew you were doing the math in your head?”

“How?” You humored him amiably.

“Because you get this cute little wrinkle between your eyes, riiiight there—” He leaned forward and booped the place between your eyes, making you go cross-eyed for a split second. “—when you're processing info.”

“Processing info makes me sound like a computer,” you joked.

“Too bad you're not a keyboard,” he said with a sigh, “you'd be just my type.”

An unnaturally loud guffaw came out of your mouth and you slapped your hand over it. There was far too much mirth between the two of you right now. “You're telling me you're good at this drunk, too?” You shook your head, the laugh lingering on your tongue, “Y'know what? I shouldn't be surprised.”

If Younghoon could come up with pick-up lines to remember how to do calculus sober, then you should not have underestimated him drunk.

“Changmin, can you put the plunger down before we get kicked out?” Your head turned toward the sound of Chanhee's pure exhaustion as the three others rounded the corner. You imagined Chanhee dealt with drunk Changmin more than a few times to sound so exasperated. You didn't even want to know what Changmin was doing with the plunger.

Sakura, Chanhee, and Changmin bumbled over to where you and Younghoon sat, the supposed plunger nowhere to be seen. Chanhee brushed a lock of pink out of his eyes with a deep sigh. “Alright; shall we?”

EPISODE THREE: DO AS THE PHYSICISTS DO

THE hungrier Younghoon woke up, the more he likely had to drink the night prior. His stomach growled something horrific and he groaned, rolling his body over to squish his face into his pillow. There were no trains of thought running through his mind at the moment; there was only blissful quiet. And hunger. Goddamn it, he was hungry.

With a huff, he dragged himself upright as if he were rising from the dead. He gave his head a rough shake, eyes bleary as he blinked once… then twice… Oh, yuck. Sticky eyelashes.

There was something white on his desk that caught his eye. There was a yellow sticky note marked with Chanhee's chicken scratch beside it: Yn sent you home with this bottle of painkillers. In case you don't remember, lol.

Dear god, it was coming back to him now.

Younghoon lowered himself down onto the edge of his bed and dragged a hand down his face. Had he been weird? Did you think he was weird now?

His phone was buried somewhere beneath his mess of sheets, and he pulled up your contact that he still had saved from last year. The last message sent was from a brief conversation you both had after his calculus final about what you were both doing when you went home for the winter break. He could feel the warmth creeping up to his cheeks from his neck as he typed out the first message to you since: heyy… about last night…

It was a bit of a surprise when he saw your reply come in nearly straight away.

miss mastermind: LOL good morning, did u sleep okay? younghoon's phone: decently ig 😅 thanks for the painkillers btw i will def take a couple of those miss mastermind: yeah no worries younghoon's phone: how bad was i last night, yn 😭 u can tell me miss mastermind: 😭 u weren't that bad… okay maybe u started singing the calculus parody of bohemian rhapsody on the way to my apartment…

Younghoon snickered into his palm as he stared at the messages on the screen. That memory was definitely rolling back into his head now. It was that, along with the Monopoly game, then the convenience store, and finally, the walk to yours and Sakura's apartment before Chanhee dropped him off here.

miss mastermind: i can't say im too surprised u remembered it tho 😭 sometimes i forget that ur trained to remember things younghoon's phone: that's a funny way to describe being an actor LMAO younghoon's phone: but also i'd be lying if i didn't admit that im so embarrassed abt last night miss mastermind: nooo don't be!! it's all good, i thought u were a very cute drunk

He smiled against his hand. He typed: Well now I just have to make it up to you.

miss mastermind: u absolutely do not younghoon's phone: actually i do younghoon's phone: if i recall correctly, u gave me the rest of ur BREAD. that's like…|

He paused, having nearly written “marriage proposal.” Quickly backspacing, he replaced it with “donating an organ.” Maybe he was a little delusional, but he could've sworn he heard your laugh echoing in his head after he sent it and saw the indicator appear that you were typing. He reached over to grab the bottle of painkillers as he monitored your texts coming in.

miss mastermind: DONATING AN ORGAN… miss mastermind: yk, i knew u liked bread, but not THIS much younghoon's phone: but ofc :0 she's my first love miss mastermind: understood o7 now ik how to sway ur judgment ☝️ younghoon's phone: le gasp younghoon's phone: truly evil mastermind things only miss mastermind: the le gasp is taking me out 😭 younghoon's phone: how abt /i/ take u out instead 😗

As soon as he sent it, he grimaced. Oh no, this was going to be taken out of context. You were going to go through the whole “sorry, I'm not really interested in you” talk, and he would have to sit through it pretending like it didn't hurt—he didn't mean for it to sound like that. You were just friends after all.

younghoon's phone: I MEAN LIKE younghoon's phone: for watching over me and humoring me last night yk! it doesn't have to be something fancy either, just something that we can do as friends! and to say thanks

His grimace deepened. Those clarification texts did nothing to help his case. It also did not calm his nerves when you failed to respond immediately like you had been for the past few minutes. “Well, you've done it now,” he muttered to himself as he frowned down at the screen.

For a couple minutes, there was nothing from your end and he forced himself to drag his ass off the bed in search of sustenance. Hyunjae's door was closed, so the rest of the apartment was quiet as he bounded out of his room toward the kitchen. Periodically (read: every couple seconds), Younghoon would glance at his phone screen waiting for your reply. “What are you scared of?” He said to himself as he opened the fridge and scratched his jaw. “You literally came up with pick-up lines for calculus terms with her.”

There were leftovers from a couple nights ago, and Younghoon grabbed those to heat up. He closed the refrigerator with his hip, eyes darting to his phone, only to see his screen light up. He dropped the leftover container on the counter and scooped the device up.

miss mastermind: i really don't think it's necessary to pay it back or anything, but we can def hang out! miss mastermind: also sorry my sister stole my phone TT but i got it back haha It was sad how fast relief flushed through him at that moment. younghoon's phone: oh no dw abt it lol ur with family rn? miss mastermind: i am! my aunt's in town and so i was summoned home for brunch 🤧 younghoon's phone: …is there :’)) uhm french toast :’)) miss mastermind: *sent a photo* younghoon's phone: that was cruel. miss mastermind: HAHAHA SORRY 😭

Younghoon stuck his leftovers into the microwave to heat up, but was suddenly craving French toast. He knew for certain he didn't have everything to make it right this second though. Maybe he would wake Hyunjae up to go impromptu grocery shopping.

younghoon's phone: i don't wanna keep u away from ur family any longer, but lmk if u have any preferences for what we should do together miss mastermind: no prefs in particular and dw, talking to u helps distract me from the amount of chaos happening in this house :’) miss mastermind: i do have to go now tho unfortunately :l my sister looks like she's abt to snatch my phone again 😭 younghoon's phone: LOL 😭 okay i'll talk to u soon then younghoon's phone: enjoy ur toast :/ miss mastermind: HAHA i'll save u a slice hoon 😋

The microwave beeped its conclusion, and Younghoon pulled the piping hot bowl of leftover food out. As he took a stab at it with his fork, he came to the swift conclusion that he was not going to be full on this. As he shoveled the food into his mouth, he started toward Hyunjae's room to give his friend a very rude awakening. “HYUNJAE! WE NEED FRENCH TOAST!”

There was no better place than the convenience store at the ripe timestamp of ten o'clock to meet with a friend. You'd gotten back from your house at around four o'clock in the afternoon, so you weren't too tired, though the cleanup and all the social interaction was threatening to take you out. Any school work or grant application work would have to wait until tomorrow.

Nonetheless, you felt a giddy sort of excitement bubble up in you as you hustled yourself down the street to the convenience store to meet Younghoon. In your hands, you clutched a small, sandwich-sized Tupperware container with a slice of holy French toast within. It was your older brother's favorite thing to make when he had to contribute to a brunch (or, let's face it, any meal) spread.

Younghoon had never been tardy to your tutoring sessions last year, so you weren't surprised when you saw him seated at your usual table in the corner. He glanced up from his phone as you walked in, waving. There was a blue colored beanie over his head and a brown corduroy jacket draped over his shoulders.

He noted the container in your hands and his eyes widened like saucers. “You did not.”

“I told you I would save you a piece,” you said sheepishly as you set the container down in front of him and took a seat.

“You—” His bottom lip jutted out. “I can't accept this.”

“You have to. It has your name on it,” you insisted, pointing out the little “Younghoon” scrawled on the side in Sharpie with a smiley face. It was customary in your household to write names on containers if they weren't already color coded or marked with a label. Label makers cost more than Sharpies did, and most of the time, your family didn't mind scrubbing the ink off if needed.

Younghoon's smile was sweet like the pastry sitting in the Tupperware. “I literally made French toast as soon as we stopped texting.”

You laughed. “No way.”

“Yes way! I dragged Hyunjae's ass out of bed,” he told you with great energy, eyes alight as he recalled his late morning antics to you. “I really didn't expect that you would bring me a slice, Yn, you sweetheart.”

“We had lots of leftovers and I just knew the most enthusiastic bread fanatic I knew had to try some of my big brother's toast,” you told him, pleased with his reaction.

He seemed at a loss for words; he just kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you wondered how you could replicate this reaction over and over again. “Thank you,” was what he settled on. “I—” He gestured to the container, to you, to the container, “It means a lot.”

“You're welcome,” you said simply.

Younghoon heaved a great sigh and stood up. “Now I have to buy you some snacks—no. Yn, sit your ass down.”

Your eyes widened a comical amount and you plopped yourself back onto the chair.

His lips wiggled as he held back a smile. “Don't move.”

“You don't have to do this, Hoon,” you shook your head as he began making his way over to the aisles.

“What's that rule in chemistry? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed?” He queried from within the drinks aisle.

“The first law of thermodynamics,” you supplied. “It's not just chemistry though. It's relevant in all the sciences.” You weren't sure where he was going with this.

“Yeah, well—” He paused. You couldn't see him from where you were, but even the rustling noises stopped. “Shit, that's not the right rule.”

You bit back a laugh. Oh, he was too adorable.

“What's the one where equal and opposite and…?”

Your brain tripped. “Uh, the—the 'for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’ one?”

More crinkling. “Aha! That's the one. Yeah, so for your actions, I must do as the physicists do, and react accordingly.”

Younghoon returned to you with an entire treasure trove of goodies that you swore amounted to more than what was due. (That number to you was technically zero, but for Younghoon's insistence, it was slightly over zero… maybe one one-thousandth.) It was a smorgasbord of peach drinks with lychee jelly, potato chips, daifuku mochi, and of course, bread buns. It was a feast in its own right. You both dove straight into the snacks before you. When life gave one lemons, one was to make lemonade.

Younghoon popped a chip into his mouth. “Do you come here often? Is this your hangout spot?” He suddenly asked, then dipped his hand into the bag and waved a chip around in the air, a quizzical kink in his brow. “I mean, you do live close by and you seem to be very familiar with the place.”

You screwed the cap of your bottle of juice back on and wiggled your fingers as you surveyed what snack to eat next. “I do hang out here often—you’re right,” you replied. The daifuku looked very appetizing right about now. “I've been coming by since school started to knock out my grant app.”

He perked up curiously. “Grant app?”

“It's for the Space Grant.” In partnership with the national space organization, your university offered something called the Space Grant, which would grant three applicants with a monetary award that could be used toward their education in aerospace. You'd had your eye on it even before you began attending this school, and you were determined to be one of the three who won it this year.

After you briefed him on the cause of much of your recent stress, Younghoon gave an indulging nod. “Mmmmh, I see. You're still aerospace engineering then, right?”

“Yep,” you chirped. “me and propulsion theory to the end. I guess I'm an airplane kid.” At the latter, you made a face. You were the space version of an airplane kid… the alternate of train kids and car kids…

“Don't think about it too much,” he said with corners of his smile peeking out on either side of where he pressed his fist against his lips.

You tried not to. “How about you? What have you been up to?”

He breathed out an exhale. “Hm? Oh, like, with drama?”

“Sure, anything and everything about you.” You leaned your cheek against your fist and peered over at him. “We've been talking about me too much.”

“Nonsense,” he tsked. “You already know I recite lines, dabble in the hilariously good pun on occasion, and am incredibly obsessed with carbohydrates.”

“What more could I possibly wanna know?” You played along.

“Exactly.” He chuckled then, tongue darting out for a second to wet his lips. “Jokes aside, nothing too much. Hyunjae's best friend, HJ!Yn—she’s a director and writer, and she's putting on her own play in the spring that I'll be auditioning for.”

Your eyebrows arched in interest. “Oh? What's it about?”

“No clue.”

You nodded. “Ah, well, good luck—or, break a leg. People say that, right? It's not just in movies?”

“People do say that, yes,” he affirmed. “And thank you. I'm gonna start a part-time teaching job at a school nearby for their theater program, which I think will be fun.”

“That does sound fun,” you agreed. Because you had two younger siblings yourself, you knew that taking care of young ones was a lot, but if anyone could do it, you knew Younghoon could. You imagined he would do quite well with them. “Let me know when they have a performance!”

His eyes twinkled in the fluorescent lights; you were beginning to grow more accustomed to the way the harsh brightness painted his features softer. “You have to promise to come though. This is more important than 12 Angry Jurors.”

You placed a hand against your heart in playful solemnity. “I, Yn Ln, do solemnly swear that I will try my very best to make it to see their performance.”

He cleared his throat, his expression falling into an expertly grave facade. “I accept your promise,” he said and extended his hand out to you across the table, “shake my hand, and may the deal never be broken.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking out of character as you shook his hand. When you'd both withdrawn your hands, you watched him, fascinated, as he exited out of character. It was like a switch had been flicked off behind his eyes. Crazy.

Satisfied, Younghoon laced his fingers beneath his chin with a giddy, little smile on his face. “I'll save you an aisle seat.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. You really did—and he really remembered.

“And I'll make silly faces at you from the curtain wings.”

You laughed, telling him you couldn't wait.

EPISODE FOUR: TRAINS GO BOOM?

THERE were too many fires to put out at once. You were becoming the humanoid version of that dog in a burning house meme, and you didn't like it. It was not fine.

“Girl, I wish you'd told me, like, three weeks ago—”

You tasted the rejection a mile out.

“—I already committed to this robotics thing that night,” Jungwoo cried in anguish as he threw his head back. “I could've gone to the Space Gala! Instead, I'm watching people play with robots.”

You passed him a sympathetic look. “Robots are cool.”

“But I don't even get to do anything! I can only spectate!” You both stopped in the middle of your walk as he made unintelligible noises and gesticulations. Jungwoo grabbed your shoulders and shook them. “YN! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE? I have to pay to watch people have fun.”

Your head was wobbling back and forth like a bobble head. Thank god for spines. “Woo—I’m gonna be honest—”

He stopped shaking you.

“I have no idea,” you said to him. “But we are in the same boat.”

The two of you were currently situated on the engineering side of campus. Most of the buildings around you were geared toward the great spectrum of engineering students—from electrical and computer, to aerospace and nautical. You just got out of a numericals simulation course and caught up with Jungwoo coming out of the engineering library to present to him your newest dilemma.

Jungwoo's posture sank. “I only have regrets after pursuing MechE.”

You pursed your lips, lamely patting him on the shoulder. “I told you aero is cooler.”

“I won't dignify that with an answer,” he sulked. Jungwoo picked himself up, however, as he always did. He carded a hand through his floppy brown bangs, eyes flickering down to his phone screen before his eyeballs nearly fell out of his socket. “Oh shit—I’m gonna be late to advanced mathematics. Chanhee is gonna murder me.”

He bumped your shoulder with the back of his hand. “Good luck on finding a plus one, Yn-ie!”

“Good luck getting there before Chanhee,” you hollered back.

Jungwoo threw you an expression that needed no subtitles, but fitting ones would read, That was so unnecessary!

As your friend sprinted in one direction, you began walking in the opposite direction. You had a little more than a couple hours before your next lecture, so you could probably either walk around and enjoy the day's nice weather or find a place to work. All bets were off when you felt your phone buzz from your pocket, and you saw the message on the screen. It was a text from your older sister: hey mom's asking if u have something to wear to the wedding lol.

The “LOL” at the end really downplayed how much stress this was going to give you. The entire event of The Wedding had slipped from your mind over the past week—actually, you were pretty sure you forgot the moment you got back into your car to drive home from brunch last weekend.

If you thought you had a large immediate family, your extended one would silence all thoughts instantly. One of your cousins-in-law was getting married in December, which meant you needed to find an outfit and mentally prepare yourself for the amount of people there were going to be in one room.

The Wedding made you anxious.

You shot your sister a frazzled text back. It was something along the lines of: maybe… lemme check the back of my closet… or pray I have funds in my bank account.

You somehow made your way to one of the green spaces on campus. It wasn't the main lawn that people picnicked or hung out on, but it was still just as beautiful as the main one. It also sat right by the café located down here in the engineering corner; you and your friends liked to loiter around here when the weather was nice.

It was exactly why you thought you were hallucinating when you saw Younghoon walking toward you.

“Younghoon?” You voice incredulously. “What're you doing here?”

He beamed at you, reaching a hand up to cup the back of his neck. “Oh, you know, just taking a walk and enjoying this nice, autumn weather…”

“Down in the engineering buildings?”

He sniffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wasn't purposely trying to look for you or anything,” he said and rocked back and forth on his heels.

You didn't need to know rocket science to read him. “Okay,” you drawled. “Say I believe you.”

“Divine coincidence,” he shrugged helplessly, jovially, even. His eyes were upturned in cute crescent moons. “Oh! And would you look at that—” He swung his backpack around to the front of his body and withdrew your plastic container from its depths, empty and clean, with even his sharpied name scrubbed off. “I just happened to have this on me.”

You sputtered out a laugh and accepted the container from him. “How funny that this pattern of events keeps happening.”

“Pfft, I know, right?” He brushed a hand through his hair. “So, uh, what're you up to?”

“What am I up to?” You parroted. “Not sure, to be honest. I've got a couple hours to kill. What about you?”

Younghoon gestured to the walkway that bordered the perimeter of the engineering lawn. You fell into step beside one another. “Nothing much, too. I kind of just needed a little walk outside to clear my head.”

You sighed, nodding. “I get that.”

“That sounded… very heavy,” he said, passing you a glance. “Something on your mind, Mastermind?”

“Oh, well,” you trailed off, uncertain of where to begin or how to begin. It seemed like Younghoon had something on his mind, too, and you didn't want to give him something else to hold onto. But when you looked over at him, there was a concentrated, concerned furrow in his brow; he was nowhere else but present with you.

You clasped the back of your neck and felt the knot in your muscles. “There's this thing.”

“Mhm.”

“Colloquially, it's referred to as the Space Gala, but it's kind of just an evening prepared by the Space Grant Consortium with a bunch of booths and a Q&A panel—things like that.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Wow, a whole consortium?”

“Yup.” You'd been a member of the student club associated with the consortium since freshman year, not just to keep up to date with information about the space grant, but because you enjoyed attending the events and learning about new innovations related to your desired field. “And it's a little formal where everyone dresses nicely to a degree, and each member can bring a plus one. Usually, Sakura comes with me, but something just came up for her that she can't avoid so—” You made a helpless gesture with your hands.

It was no fault of her own that she couldn't avoid the personal matter that came for her. You just needed to find someone to go with you now, but finding someone on such short notice was proving to be less than swift.

“Ah,” Younghoon said in understanding. “You'd like to attend with someone you're comfortable with because it's a large gathering of people, and—when is it?”

“Next Friday,” you grimaced.

He blinked. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “Hey, I mean, if you're looking for someone to go with—I dunno if you're comfortable with me compared to your closer friends—and I don't want to seem as if I'm inviting myself, but—”

“Younghoon,” you cut in with the knots in your neck and shoulders suddenly dissipating. You pressed your hands together, touching them to your lips. “Would you like to go to the Space Gala with me?”

The most beautiful smile blossomed onto his face then, and you swore to go it was warmer than the sun's beams. For a second, his cheekbones darkened with something bashful, but it was hidden in the blink of an eye, and you were met again with the charming Younghoon you knew well. “Why, there's nothing I would love to do more.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “I'm happy to go with you, Yn. I mean, what does Sakura usually do to help you when you're in crowded places?”

Hold my hand. That thought was immediately cast aside. That was probably far too much. You coughed, “Uhm, just—you know—stick around me. I get kind of overwhelmed when there are a lot of people around.”

“Overstimulation?” He offered sympathetically.

“I suppose that's the word I'm looking for.”

Younghoon nodded. “Okay. Hey, that's okay. You just tell me what I need to do to make you feel safe and I'll do it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you couldn't figure out the right words to express your gratitude. It was hard not to downplay your own misgivings; it took time to practice being patient with yourself. “Thanks, Hoon. I don't really… know what to say, but I really do appreciate it.”

“You don't have to say anything,” he said easily. “And I think, personally, I'm a great plus one.”

If only all of your troubles in life could be fixed so simply by Kim Younghoon being your plus one.

Your stroll together took you down toward the environmental science building. It was a path through a heavily forested area, though a little strange even being located somewhere south of the main campus. The paved sidewalk faded into a worn dirt path, and sunlight filtered in through the layers of leaves crisscrossing overhead.

“I've spilled my guts,” you piped up, “now what's on your mind?” You added swiftly, “If you're comfortable with sharing.”

Younghoon blew out an exhale from his mouth. “You know that job I mentioned? The one where I'm working with a youth theater program nearby?”

You nodded. “Yeah, how's that going, by the way?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted with his mouth shifted to the side. “I had my first day with them on Wednesday, and I'm seeing them again today. I think I'm just nervous that they'll get bored of me.”

Ah, you could understand that. Surely your years helping out with your younger siblings could lend some use. It was rare to see Younghoon in this state of unease, and it was even more rare to think of someone who wouldn't like him. Seeing him troubled even a little made your stomach churn, and you wanted to help find a solution. “How old are they?”

“They’re all older primary school kids,” he said. “Young enough to not be scary middle schoolers and old enough to have some kind of attention span.”

You smiled to yourself. “Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about.”

“I knew you would.” He brightened. “You have younger siblings, don't you? Any chance one of them wants to become an actor?”

“Oh, hm,” you murmured, “Sadie's got her eyes set on ballet right now and I think Quincey's really only fascinated about his trains. They can be swayed though, I'm sure.”

“How do I keep a kid's interest though?”

You wish you had a formula for that. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “To be so honest with you, kids just like learning about dangerous shit.”

Younghoon wheezed. “What?”

You grabbed his shoulder as you both stopped in the walkway so he would face you. “Listen—no, I'm being serious, Younghoon!” You were trying to get a hold of this man as if you weren't gradually losing it, too. “Do you know how many times my little brother has made his trains go boom?”

“Yn.”

“He has problems, I know; he's like, four and a half or something.”

Younghoon's eyes were filled with mirth as he pressed his knuckles against his mouth. “Yn, do you know how insane that sounds?”

Your eyes shuddered in a blink. “Huh?”

He grappled onto your shoulders with another wheeze, eyes moist with laughter and a twinge of something else you couldn't process. “Yn, are you free next Friday at three?”

“Yeah?”

“Come with me to see the kids?”

“Okay.”

His tongue ran over his teeth as he grinned. Younghoon's head dipped in a nod, and he dropped his hands to the side. You didn't know what the hell just happened, but you had a feeling a solution was very much found.

EPISODE FIVE: TO INFINITY & BEYOND

“PLEASE tell me you're leaving the medieval torture devices out of the discussion.”

You passed him a look from the passenger's side of Younghoon's Prius. (It was objectively hilarious to watch this man fold his long limbs up to get in and out of this car; you didn’t know how the laws of nature even allowed a human with his height to own and drive one of these things.) “You say that like you were sure I wasn't.”

It was currently the Friday following, and the day you and Younghoon would both be each other's plus ones. Presently, you were in his car as he drove you both over to the elementary school where he was part-timing. Once this class was over, you would split off to prepare for tonight's Space Gala before meeting again at the venue on campus.

He turned his signal on as he pulled into the parking lot. “I'm just making sure.” He glanced over at you. “Are you excited?”

“To have about two dozen pairs of eyes on me?” You had faced crowds before and they weren't your forte, but you supposed if they were all bite-sized people this time, it wouldn't be so bad. Plus, Younghoon said they would be sitting down and working in groups most of the time anyways. The appeal of this crowd was that you didn't have to worry about getting swept up.

“They're all nice kids,” he said as if consoling you. “It'll be fun!”

“But I can talk about the trebuchet, right?” You asked after he parked and you were clambering out of the car. That one time you went down a fascinating rabbithole of medieval machinery was about to come in handy.

Younghoon paused with his hand on the top of his door. “That wasn't the one with the horse-pulling, was it?”

“Oh, definitely not.”

He locked the door and the two of you began walking side by side to cross the parking lot. There was a plastic clipboard in his hand made of a material in a shade of translucent neon green, something you expected a PE teacher would carry around, except this clipboard was armed with scripts and instructor notes. The little drama program at this school was currently only an after-school occurrence, but if this all went well, they might be granted permission from the school to start integrating it into everyday classes. It was exciting—you could remember your first years of exposure to things like liquid nitrogen ice cream, egg drop competitions, and the National Geographic issue called Astronauts. Perhaps in another life you would've been an astronaut, rather than the engineer who designed the vessel that would take them into space.

Needless to say, these were some of their most impressionable years, and Younghoon was going to be a big part of these kids’. It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

Sometime between today and last week, Younghoon brought you up to speed on what the kids were currently working on. The head instructor picked out something from an adapted version of How to Train Your Dragon, which in all honesty, was cool as fuck. Immediately, thoughts about how to build a harness apparatus for an actual dragon model came to your mind, but you would need to take a look at the dimensions of the stage and preferably leave flamethrowers out of the end result. That was if you were allowed to or even had the time to.

It would be fun though. Of course it was going to be fun.

Younghoon was the first one to enter the auditorium room. It was a multipurpose building with a large, open concept space lined in carpet with a stage at the furthest end and the doors to the library across the way. With the impending introduction, you stuck behind your friend as he poked his head in. Instant squeals of delight erupted at the sight of him. (He was kidding when he said he was worried about the kids ever getting bored of him, right?) “Younghoon!”

Younghoon’s smile was so big that you could see it even when his face was half turned. “Hi everyone—I brought a friend today. Let’s give her a nice, warm welcome, hm?” Younghoon stepped completely into the room now, his hand coming over to gently sweep you in with him by your shoulder. “This is Yn.”

You raised your hand in a small, awkward wave, a greeting somehow managing to come out of your mouth. There were so many little ones present and they were all sitting in a misshapen blob in the middle of the carpet, their backpacks lined up against one of the side walls. Interacting with children who weren’t your siblings or relatives was a lot different.

“Oh my gosh,” you heard one of them gasp. “Is she his partner?”

“No, she is not my partner—she’s a friend,” Younghoon replied pointedly. “Boys and girls can be friends, Roni.”

There was a boy with a gray colored Lightning McQueen jacket on who said, “That’s exactly what my brother said before he asked his best friend to be boyfriend-girlfriend.”

Well. You angled your head toward your counterpart and murmured to him, “How old did you say these kids were?”

“Now you know why I needed your help,” he joked. “Their brains run too fast.”

“And you think the two of ours can measure up?”

Another small one—she had her dark hair in twin pigtails, knotted off with bows—raised her hand. “Are you an actor like Younghoon?”

“Me?” You pointed at yourself as if there was someone else she could’ve been asking. “Oh, no, I don’t have the skillset to be an actor,” you mused. “I basically make airplanes and rockets.” Basically.

A flurry of excitement kicked up like a snowstorm, and you could feel your skin warm at the sudden increase in energy. Perhaps you should have led with that..? But even so, it was abrupt, and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself—

Younghoon cleared his throat, “Hey guys, let’s keep our noise level down, please.”

In response to his request, the kids miraculously managed to quiet themselves down to a buzzing chatter. It hit you at that moment; Younghoon wasn’t just good with kids—he was incredible. Why did he ever think he needed your help when you could barely stutter out a sentence about what you did instead of acting?

“I told Yn about the show we’re putting on,” he said with everyone’s attention now settled on him, including yours, “and she was very excited about seeing it.”

“Is she gonna make us fly?” Someone asked with their eyes wide and big, and you swore you could fit the whole Milky Way within the awe that was in their irises. Kids, man.

“Only if you guys do good today,” Younghoon said. “Why don’t we break off into groups and show Miss Yn what we’ve been practicing, hm?”

You managed to pick out the Star Trek theme over the volume of your hair dryer, and swore loudly as you cut the device off and scurried into your room to find your phone. “Hello?” You answered as you brought your phone back with you into the bathroom.

“Hey,” answered Younghoon, “I was thinking of just picking you up to go to the thing tonight instead of just meeting there.”

It was approximately two hours since you and Younghoon departed from the elementary school. You were back at your apartment now, attempting to get your bearings and clean yourself up for the evening's festivities.

You could feel the gears turning in your head as you weighed your options. “I mean—only if it’s convenient.”

“Okay, I’ll be by at say… 7?”

“Sounds good,” you replied as you finished up styling your hair. Though nicknamed the Space Gala, it wasn’t meant to be incredibly formal like dinner jackets and evening gowns—nice shirts, ironed pants and skirts, and non-sneakers or non-sandals would do fine. “Thanks, Hoon.”

“Mhm!” He chirped to the accompaniment of rustling in the background.

“Also—” You grabbed your phone and flicked the bathroom light off. As you were making your way back into your bedroom, you saw Sakura peer out through her open doorway with curious eyes like that of a cat. She wagged her eyebrows at you knowingly and you shooed at her playfully. “Kim Younghoon, you are such a liar!”

His laugh was sincere and bright. “Technically, I never lied.”

“You are great with kids.”

“Being good with kids is a subjective quality, my friend,” he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, you did great with them, too. They loved you.”

You pursed your lips in a sad, silly attempt to stay petty, but you couldn’t deny that you had a nice time with him and his students this afternoon. Once the initial jitters subsided, you loosened up a considerable amount. Adults oftentimes underestimated how perceptive kids were, but you had a feeling that they caught onto what made you feel overwhelmed pretty quickly. At least, most of the groups you were working with did.

But… you had fun. That was all that mattered in the end. You would enjoy going back to see them again. You kicked your door closed with your foot. “I had a good time,” you replied at last. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Yeah, of course. It was really fun having you there with me—us.”

You both paused on either end of the phone as the conversation reached a natural lull point. As you fitted on the freshly-steamed blouse you planned to wear tonight, you caught the time at the top of your phone screen. “Uh… so I’ll see you in about twenty minutes then?”

Shuffling from his end, and then, “Yep—twenty minutes! See you in a bit, Yn-ah.”

“Bye, Hoon!”

Twenty minutes flew by faster than 299,000,000 meters per second—at least, to you. One moment, you were ducking into the passenger side seat of Younghoon’s Prius, and the next, the two of you were being admitted in through the doors of the annual Space Gala. The usual “venue” that the consortium booked for this event was one of the campus’s main buildings that housed three large lecture rooms on the first floor, as well as two lecture halls on the second floor across from another large event space.

The lobby was filled with a crush of people, with some faces you recognized and others that you didn't. There were tables draped over with black cloth that hosted educational mini games where one could win free button pins and stickers, booths with companies associated with the consortium present to pitch potential internships, and everything in between. Younghoon stuck to your side like glue. You felt the warmth of his hand either between your shoulder blades or on one of your shoulders as the two of you maneuvered your way through the crowd.

It wasn’t until you hit the farther end of the lobby where there was a clearing of people that you felt the pressure in your sternum alleviate. You imagined your gaze appeared a little empty, glassy even, but it was all just an overwhelming wave of sensations on all ends.

“How’re you feeling?” You heard Younghoon’s voice close to your ear so you could hear him but anyone else around you couldn’t.

You focused on that—his voice. “I’m fine,” you assured him with a small smile. “I’m excited to be here and it’s just a lot.”

Younghoon smiled back at you and you felt his palm warm little circles on your back. “Take your time. The guy at the front says it’ll be another half hour until we can expect the panel to start.”

“Kkura and I—we, uh, usually go in a little earlier than everyone else.” Depending on the year, you and Sakura either occupied seats in the front couple of rows or one of the balcony seats. The former was to distract you from the idea of several hundred other people being in the room behind you, whereas the latter was so you had a large space between you and the crowd. Both were methods that you and your friend deduced were the best at soothing any feelings of overwhelm.

He nodded. “Okay, yeah, we can still do that. Are there any tables you wanna visit before we go in?”

“Actually,” you said, and your heart leapt at the memory of one booth you visited every year, “I have to show you this one thing—it’s so neat. It might be on the other side of the lobby, but we can cut upstairs and get to it that way.” Where there was a will, there was most definitely a way.

Younghoon’s expression mirrored the excitement in yours. “Lead on, Yn-ah,” he chuckled and let you grab his hand to show him why you loved what you did.

This year was dubbed a balcony year.

From yours and Younghoon’s perch up in the balcony rows, you could peer down at the hundreds of heads below, as well as the presentations given onstage. You were always blown away by the new information and possibilities brought up during the year’s presentations, as well as during the question and answer section where audience members could either line up to ask the panelists their queries directly or send them anonymously to an online platform.

Your preferred method was most definitely the latter because public speaking was not your forte, even though it meant you would have less probability for your questions to be answered. One year, Kkura had practically escorted you up to a panelist when everyone was leaving because you had a burning question.

But this year was different. All of your awe was coupled with the amount of marvel expressed by your partner for the evening. If you were fascinated by what was being discussed below, then Younghoon just entered a whole new galaxy.

You found yourself glancing over at him the whole night to watch his reaction. Periodically, your eyes would meet, and you might have been embarrassed to be caught looking at him, but it was completely dashed away by the pure reverence that was stark on his face.

At some point, the evening did have to come to an end, and you and Younghoon lingered up in the balcony to let everyone else below you trickle out first.

“That,” Younghoon whistled low, “was incredible. I’m so—” He made unintelligible hand gestures before coming up with a word, “—bedazzled. I’m positively bedazzled.”

You grinned. “I’m very pleased to hear that you’re bedazzled.”

“I mean, why don’t we hear about this on the news?” He queried, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. He reached up to adjust the wiggly star headband on top of his head that he won from a spin-the-wheel stall earlier. “If they talked about finding organic chemicals on faraway planets on the evening news, viewership from my devices would skyrocket for them.”

“Don’t we all wish they talked about space on the news,” you sighed as you leaned your cheek against your fist. “But also, as Dr. Cho mentioned, we can’t get too excited yet. Organic chemicals for us might not mean organic chemicals for an alien species.”

Younghoon nodded slowly. “Right,” he drawled. “That’s so interesting to think about… that we’re possibly not alone and that they could either be very similar to us or very different, or maybe even somewhere in between.”

“Isn’t it crazy?” You couldn’t count the amount of times you got lost in a rabbithole of research when you were supposed to be working on assignments instead. Your eyes darted down to the lower levels to check the population density, and garnered that you could still wait at least a couple minutes more. “Hey, you know, if you're interested in this stuff, then you should come to some of the planetarium’s presentation nights sometime.”

Your counterpart’s eyes widened like the lens of a telescope. “We have a planetarium?”

You giggled. “Yeah, silly. What did you think the astronomy tower was for?”

“We have an astronomy tower?”

You smiled wide against your knuckles as you nodded. “Maybe you should wander down by the engineering buildings more often.”

Younghoon made an incredulous face. “Maybe I should.” He considered something for a moment and you watched the smile blossom onto his face again. “Though, I have a feeling that if I looked into a telescope, I'd only see you—’cause you're a star.”

“That was awful,” you snorted into your hand, shaking your head.

“Not my best work,” he admitted. He could admit defeat when he was met by it, but he wouldn't let it hinder his efforts. “You know, I think Galileo was wrong.”

“How so?” You asked as you motioned for the two of you to start gathering your things.

“You're the center of my universe.”

You were pretty sure the lower levels could hear your laugh echo against the walls. “Oh my god.”

“Or maybe that just makes you the sun,” he said to you in a singsong tone while trailing after you.

“I’m walking home, Younghoon.”

“You can try, sunshine.”

EPISODE SIX: THE ONE WHERE IT GETS WORSE

MURPHY'S Law stated that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong,” with an adage of “at the worst possible time.” You needed to have words with this Murphy.

You were now in the thralls of midterm season. It was common knowledge and experience among STEM students that once midterm season began, it didn't stop until finals hit. You hadn't even realized how fast midterms had arrived until it was pouncing on you like a predator in the brush. You were currently being torn apart by the jaws of a hungry lion called Life.

“I haven't finished the grant app, Kkura.” You stared at the white wall behind your desk with a blank glaze over your eyeballs. There were sticky notes and pieces of paper tacked there with reminders and diagrams like they were makeshift whiteboards, but you weren't looking at them.

“My aerothermo exam is in two days,” you continued on in a droning voice, “and the internship interview is the day after.”

You spun around in your chair to face where Sakura was perched crisscrossed on your bed with a sympathetic frown. The internship addition was a new one. You had sent in your application a couple months ago, and results of applicants who had passed to the interview phase were only recently released. While you were relieved beyond measure that you made it, the interview couldn't have come at a worse time.

“Well,” she began, “we already decided that I'm going to help you prepare for the interview, Yn. The grant app isn't due for another month. All you need to worry about right now is the aerothermo exam, right?”

When she put it that way… “You're right,” you sighed and lifted your hands up to dig the heels of your palm into your eyes. Sometimes it just took an outside perspective to knock a little logic into you.

The Star Trek theme song blared from your phone, and you both startled at the abruptness. You fumbled for the device, then quickly picked up the phone call when you saw that it was from your mom. “Hi, mom. Everything okay?”

“Your brother can't make it to the wedding.”

You made a face. “I'm guessing you don't mean Quincey…”

You could imagine the exasperation on your mom's face from the other side of the phone. “Yn, I call you because you're the logical one in the family.”

If only she knew what pain you were putting yourself through because of your current lack of sense. You leaned back in your chair, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Why can't Justin make it?” Justin was your eldest brother who had the divine French toast recipe.

“He's flying to Paris for his culinary school interview. You know I always tell that boy to double check his schedules—he never listens,” your mom exhaled sharply. You could hear the loud clatter of the dryer in the background; she must be doing laundry.

“Sounds like Justin,” you murmured. “So what's the problem? Can't we just go sans Justin?”

“We already RSVP'd with the seven of us, and your cousin already paid for the reception meal in full. We can't have an empty, wasted seat, Yn-ah.”

You frowned. You supposed that would be a problem then. “Why don't we just find someone to bring along as a plus-one?”

“That's what I was thinking,” she replied. “I was going to invite Rian, you know, the boy from next door.”

Somehow, your mood managed to sour further. You and Sakura made eye contact, and she tilted her head to the side in question. You gave her an emphatic thumb's down before replying to your mom, “Wait—can we—mom, can we not invite Rian?” You dragged your free hand down the side of your face, and you saw Sakura grimace when you said that guy's name.

“Why not?”

“Be… because,” you stammered, pushing out a sigh when you weren't sure how to describe your incredible disdain for your childhood next-door neighbor. He was your age, and fortunately, you were never matchmade with him. Unfortunately, he was a jerk with inferiority issues and delighted in competing with you in everything. “He wouldn't want to come with,” you said lamely. His presence would do the exact opposite of soothing your anxiety.

Sakura gestured with her hands. Tell her he's full of shit!

Oh, you wished.

“Yn.” Your mother could smell lies, even through the phone. “I wouldn't know who else to invite.”

“Daphne's partner!” You exclaimed desperately. Daphne was your older sister who attended another college on the other side of the city getting her master's degree. “Can't we invite Sam?”

“Sam's in Vietnam in December.”

“Goddamn it.”

“Yn.”

“Sorry.” Dear fuck, you were slipping. You needed a solution—anything at all. Something to put out one fire, even temporarily. “What if I came up with a plus one?” You regretted it immediately.

“Oh, like Sakura? I wouldn't mind if you brought her.”

Anyone but Rian, anyone but Rian. “Yeah,” you drawled. “That's who I had in mind.” You lifted your head to meet your friend's eyes again, and she knitted her brows in confusion. You mouthed that you would tell her in a moment.

When you and your mom hung up, you deflated in your chair, dropping your phone onto your chest. “I'm fucked.”

“Hit me with it.”

“I told her I would bring you to the wedding with us.”

Sakura sat there for a moment to process the information. “Yn, honey, I'm going to be in Japan in December.”

“I know,” you cried.

“Who are you bringing then?”

“I don't know.”

Murphy of Murphy's Law had better sleep with one eye open.

It was likely in your worst interest to be at the convenience store at midnight rather than in your bed asleep, attempting to let your brain process the concepts from your aerothermodynamics course. Against your better judgment, though, you were here, slumped over your usual table and seat as you watched YouTube and sipped on a box of chocolate milk.

In the distance, the door opened and closed, but the sound was muffled through your earbuds. Out of your peripherals, someone materialized next to you. You peered up at the tall man beside you now, blocking out the fluorescent LEDs from burning your eyes. “Hey,” you said quietly.

Younghoon took in your state with sad eyes. “I got your text.”

“I didn't think you'd be awake.” Didn't he have a rehearsal tomorrow morning? Or rather, later this morning.

“Well, I'm glad I was awake, for starters.” He frowned and then leaned over you to gently wrap you up in his arms. “Rough night?”

Your face was buried in the fabric of his hoodie. This was nice. “Rough everything.”

“Ah, one of those,” he sympathized. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Thank you for coming though.” You leaned back and patted the empty seat next to you. “Wanna watch squirrels with me?”

You watched his expression falter and fill with surprised amusement with a pinch of confusion. “Did you—you just said squirrels, right?”

“Yeah, they're competing in a backyard Olympics for this trophy of walnuts.”

He sat down with you to watch the squirrels. In your free time, you liked watching engineering or science-type videos on the internet. Most of them were as educational as they were entertaining, like the backyard squirrel series, where this man used his mechanical engineering degree to build advanced obstacles to test and observe the vast capabilities of the squirrel.

You shared your earbud with Younghoon so he could listen, and you were now connected by a wire. He mimicked your position, too, with his chin nestled onto his folded arms over the tabletop.

You weren't sure what possessed him to drive all the way over here at such an ungodly hour of night, but you were grateful for his company, nonetheless. Even if it felt like the sky was falling, you could let this moment in time exist outside the conventional timeline. It could be its own singular moment, just you and Younghoon.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how it all came back to this. You'd never thought you were meant to see him again after tutoring him, let alone having spent so much time with him again these past few weeks. If you didn't belong in his world, and vice versa, then what was this?

You swore the monotonous buzzing from the lights above was making your eyelids slowly fall with the weight of lead.

Younghoon's eyes fluttered over to you just as you were about to doze off. He sat up and turned the video off. “Hey,” he whispered, gently shaking your arm.

You hummed, the bags under your eyes becoming worse by the second. “Huh?”

He chuckled under his breath as you put your head back down. “We can watch this another day,” he promised, patting your head. “We should get you home though so you can sleep.”

“Oh my gosh,” you groaned and picked yourself up, “you have rehearsal tomorrow morning—what time is it?”

“Hey, don't worry about it, love.” He was wrapping your earbud wire around his fingers into a neat, little bundle. “I'll be fine. Let's go home, though, yeah?”

You pressed your palms to your eyes in a desperate attempt to rehydrate them. “Okay, yeah. Sorry, Hoon.”

“Don't say sorry,” he cooed, pressing your earbuds into the palm of your hand and tucking your phone into your pocket. “I felt a lot better meeting you here. Do you feel a little better?”

You gave a small nod. Your brain was too muddled, too exhausted, to really comprehend what was being expressed as plain as the sun at high noon on his face.

“Then that's all that matters.” There was a pause. Your vision was blurry for the second that his eyes wandered somewhere else. You didn't know if you just didn't see it or if you just chose to not acknowledge it.

Then the moment passed, as all things did in the flow of nature, and he walked you home.

EPISODE SEVEN: PARTY PEOPLE (BBANGNYU'S VERSION)

“CHANHEE?”

Choi Chanhee swirled the straw of his melted iced americano around in its cup. “Yup.”

“Who would you invite to a wedding?” You posed, twirling around the mechanical pencil in your hand between your fingers. You didn't even know why you still had the writing utensil out—everyone had pretty much gone home for the evening.

He released a sigh indicative of a very tired data science major, who doubled-majored in math. “The person I'm marrying? I dunno.”

You and Chanhee were stuck with the late shift at the math tutoring center on a Monday night. The crowd usually cleared out by nine o'clock, but the two of you weren't technically allowed to leave until nine-thirty. Most nights when you were stuck with this shift, you and he didn't mind the quiet in order to finish assignments of your own.

Jungwoo would have been here to suffer with you, too, but he had an excuse tonight. Something about an emergency at the NCT fraternity house.

You blew a puff of air through your mouth. “Not your wedding; just a wedding. One that you're invited to.”

“You're not inviting me, are you?”

“You don't wanna be my plus one for a wedding?” You grinned.

“Depends…” He hummed pleasantly, “what're they serving?” That was a valid question that you lacked an answer to.

In front of you on your laptop screen sat your incomplete space grant application. After the hell that was last week, you somehow survived it by the seat of your pants. Now, you needed to focus on your two other exams for this week, the wedding debacle, this grant app, and praying that the interview had gone as well as you thought it had.

So many things to think about, so little brain cells.

You glanced over at the corner of your laptop screen to see how much time you had left to try and be productive. From the corner of your eye, you saw the swift movements of Chanhee's thumbs flying over his phone keyboard.

You turned to your application to read over your responses for the ten thousandth time. “Who've you been texting all night, Chanhee?”

“Huh? Oh, my best friend.”

You hummed. “The one that goes to the uni across the country, right?”

His response was cut off by the sound of the tutoring center doors opening. Both of you looked up in tandem, mentally bracing yourselves for—

“Younghoon?”

There was a weird fluttery feeling in your chest as he beamed at the both of you and bounded over from the front doors. “Hey guys! I was just walking past and thought I would swing by.”

Chanhee's eyebrows flew all the way up to his pink hairline. “Yes, because it makes complete sense why you would be meandering around south campus at nine o'clock at night,” he quipped.

Younghoon seemed, to his credit, unbothered by Chanhee pointing out the obvious. He stole one of the chairs from another table and sat down across from you and Chanhee. “You guys don't play any music when everyone's gone?”

“Sometimes we do,” you replied, glancing up from your computer screen before replacing your word choice somewhere.

Chanhee nodded his agreement as he set his phone down on the table and laced his fingers under his chin. “Oh, Younghoon-ah, I've been meaning to discuss something with you.”

Younghoon perked up. “What's up?”

“What're we gonna do about your friend and my friend?”

You figured out pretty quickly that you had no idea what they were talking about. Even after having played Monopoly with some of them a few weeks ago, it still hadn't hit you as to the full-scale of these two guys’ shared social circles. Sure, you orbited some friend groups of a decent size, but it felt like they all hung out with each other at least once a week.

“Ah,” Younghoon drawled with a knowing sparkle in his eyes, “Jacob and JC!Yn, right? I don't know; I find it kind of amusing.”

Chanhee frowned. A furrow had formed between his brows. “If amusing means to the extent where I'd like to rip my hair out, that is. Did you know that Jacob sent me to go intervene when Jaehyun was talking to JC!Yn at the hot tub?”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm.” Chanhee made a vague flourish with his wrist in the air. “And did you see how they were at the movie night on Saturday?”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “I did see that. He kept looking over when Juyeon was braiding her hair,” he chuckled.

“I am at odds, Younghoon-ah!” Chanhee groaned into his palms. “I just need them to kiss already and get it over with.”

“So you wanna meddle?”

“I'm not saying we should meddle, but…” He drawled with cheeky, puckered lips and his palms open upward. His gaze went to you on his right side, and he knocked the back of his knuckles against your arm. “Oy, Yn-ah. What do you think?”

You hummed and drew your eyes up from your laptop screen, meeting Younghoon's gaze first. Glancing over to the friend who addressed you, you said, “What are we talking about?”

“Girl, you need to get off that grant app.”

“This grant app needs to get off me,” you shot back. “I need it to be perfect, Chanhee.”

“Nothing is perfect, Yn,” he told you. “You know what you should do? You should ask JC!Yn to look over it. That might ease your mind.”

“I'll think about it,” you said at last in order to appease him. The smart thing would've been to heed his advice and ask his friend to proofread it. Perhaps you would later this week.

“Good. Anyways, I was asking you what you thought about how to matchmake our two friends,” resumed Chanhee. He tucked his limbs inward as he spun around in his chair.

“You’re going to have to give me more context than that.” Besides that, were you really the best option to ask for advice? You weren't in a relationship, and now that you thought about it, neither were the two of them.

You saw Chanhee and Younghoon exchange glances and there seemed to be a silent conversation taking place between the two of them. At last, Younghoon gave his counterpart a flourishing gesture with his hand as if saying 'all yours.’ Chanhee cleared his throat. “So Younghoon's friend Kevin, who is Jacob's best friend, introduced JC!Yn to Jacob.”

“And we're pretty sure they like each other,” Younghoon added on. “There was this pool party a couple weekends ago, and they came to the party together. This past weekend, they looked pretty cozy at the movie night that Jacob and Kevin hosted at their apartment, too.”

You had only ever met JC!Yn once in passing, and it was because Chanhee forgot his calculator at the library right before an exam, and she had been the champion to deliver it to him in the examination hall lobby. She was a real one, that was for sure.

You pursed your lips and rested your chin on your fist. “Aren't all of you guys single?” Was what you led with.

Chanhee deadpanned. “That's not the point…”

“I do have to point that out though because you ask me like I would know what to do,” you laughed, vaguely gesturing back to yourself. “I'm just as single as the rest of you.”

The two boys’ eyes whipped back to one another for a millisecond, before looking away.

You nearly leapt to your feet, exclaiming, “I saw that! What was that?”

“Nothing,” they answered at once. They did realize it made them look all the more conspicuous, right?

“We just realized that not all of us are single,” Younghoon raced to smooth over his and Chanhee's fib. “My friend Sangyeon—”

Chanhee snorted, “Hyunjae told me he doesn't believe him.”

“And you believe Hyunjae?”

“Touché.”

You unconsciously began spinning your pencil around your fingers again. “Wait, so Sangyeon is cuffed?”

Younghoon turned to you to explain. Apparently, his original group of friends that didn't include Chanhee's extension, kept a running joke that Sangyeon was either making up his girlfriend or was keeping her stashed on a secret island in the Bahamas. None of them had seen any evidence that she truly existed, but Younghoon wasn't convinced that Sangyeon was the type of person to go through all of this strife just to prove a point.

After all of that, you were more confused than before. “But why wouldn't he just show you a picture of her and prove that he met this girl?”

“That's what I'm saying,” Chanhee interjected, flinging his arms up in the air. “It would be so easy to just silence us with a little picture!”

Younghoon, clearly amused by the discourse taking place, leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “Beats me. I personally think it's because she works for a secret government agency, which is why she can't exist online.”

Chanhee's expression flattened. “Uh-huh.”

“But Juyeon says that it's probably because if he only shows a picture, we might accuse him of Photoshop,” Younghoon continued. “Which, in retrospect, says a lot about his faith in us.”

You made a face, your eyebrows arching high. “Oh, for sure.”

Debating on conspiracy theories about mystery girlfriends made the last thirty minutes of yours and Chanhee's shift fly by fast. Suffice to say, you hadn’t worked on your application nearly as much as you wanted to, but you were entertained for thirty minutes, which was just as well. Didn’t doctors say that it was good to laugh at least three times a day…? Good thing you weren’t going into medicine.

The three of you started packing everything up at exactly nine-thirty. There was no reason to stay any longer when there was literally no one else here anyway.

As you shoved your laptop into your backpack, Younghoon knocked on the table in front of you. “Wanna grab dinner after this?”

You opened your mouth to reply when Chanhee beat you to it. He hadn’t seen Younghoon grab your attention, and didn’t know who he was addressing. “Oh, that’s nice of you to as—”

“I meant Yn.”

You closed your eyes and sank your teeth into your bottom lip to have some dignity left (read: not start wheezing). Chanhee’s eyes had gone wide, eyebrows rocketing back up to his hairline. He scoffed, “Wow.”

Younghoon grinned cheekily. “Sorry, Chanhee. We have a routine.”

With Chanhee now thoroughly offended, your little trio filed out of the tutoring center. You locked the doors up behind you once you flicked off all the lights in the room. The walk down in south campus was arguably nicer than north campus, even if you were a little biased because this was where you considered your “turf” to be. South campus was much better illuminated than north campus with pretty, little lamp posts and five different styles of architecture from building to building. You were sure it was an eyesore to any of the architecture majors here, but they were interesting to look at when you were suffering in the engineering library. (And at least they had windows.)

You took up the position in between Younghoon and Chanhee, the latter of whom seemed to let his pettiness about the rejected dinner date go.

“Guys,” Younghoon suddenly said. The corner of his lips were turned upward in a degree you could only define as mischievous. “What is the most terrifying word in physics?”

You scrunched your brows together. There was no way you should get this wrong, but then again, physics wasn't exactly a subject where anyone got everything right—

“Oops.”

You snorted, and beside you, Chanhee's lip wobbled as he desperately held in a reaction. You couldn't believe you didn't see this coming and tried to think about it logically.

Younghoon shoved his hands in his pockets and swiped his tongue over his lower lip through a smile. “Aw, come on! I cracked up when I heard that one in a TikTok for the first time.”

“I've just heard some of your better ones,” you confessed. “Chanhee, did I tell you that Younghoon used to wax poetic to study for calc?”

Chanhee's mouth curled up into an amused little smile. “You did! I think it's cute.”

“You know, I think it's cute, too.”

In the dim lighting from the nearby lamp posts, Younghoon's cheekbones flushed something rosy. “You flatter me.”

As the three of you climbed up the stairs that would bring you to main campus, Chanhee piped up, “What if we just slipped Jacob and JC!Yn notes from the other person?”

You shook your head. “Not this again.”

“I'm serious!” He said in earnest. “It would just be innocent, little pick-up lines or something. Nothing like a whole ass confession.”

“We're reading Much Ado About Nothing in my Shakespeare lecture right now,” said Younghoon, “and the cast does something similar to one of the couples they're trying to get together. Sounds kind of fun, to be honest.”

“Not you, too!”

Younghoon slung an arm around your shoulders and flourished his free arm out toward the heavens. There was a pleasant feeling attached to the weight of his arm around you. “C’mon, use that mastermind brain of yours and imagine! Jacob's would just say something like—I dunno—if I whispered in thine ear that thou hast a body of beauty, wouldst thou hold it against me?”

“Wow,” you marveled, ignoring the amount of fluttering happening in your stomach, “that was pretty good.”

He flashed you a boyish smile. “Thank you.”

“But you're not doing it.”

The boys on either side of you released twin groans of anguish into the night, as if their mother had just denied them access to their Xbox for the evening. You rolled your eyes lightly. “I feel like relationships are like spontaneous processes—they’ll get to the right configuration eventually, organically. In other words, we should leave them be and let them figure it out for themselves.” You walked in front and turned around to face them so you could pin them both down with a firm look.

Younghoon raised his arms up in playful surrender. “Promise we won't meddle.”

“I hate when you use entropy statistics against me.” Chanhee gave a reluctant nod, sighing once again, “But I agree. We won’t meddle.”

EPISODE EIGHT: DON'T ASK ME THE COLOR OF ANYTHING

IT was the Star Trek theme song that blasted you out of your study bubble. In retrospect, the theme song was quite a subdued piece compared to something like the Star Wars theme, but for some reason you thought it was a good idea to turn the volume all the way up for your ringer whenever you were home. (God forbid you accidentally left it on when you were in class…) From your desk, you scooted over to grab your phone from where it was on your bed. Younghoon's caller ID beamed its cute smile up at you—the picture you'd set was of him and his dog from home, Bori. You had yet to meet Bori, but when you asked him for a picture for his contact photo, he sent this one.

You accepted the call. “Hello?”

“I just realized I pressed Call instead of Facetime. Please accept the Facetime thingy.”

Why did he sound so cute? You lifted the phone away from your ear and saw the request on the screen. While pressing the green accept button, you said to him, “What if I said no?”

“Then it must be Opposite Day,” he sang from the other side of the screen, his face manifesting before you. He was holding his phone up above him so you could see he was lying down in bed, his dark hair strewn over the pillow beneath his head. His initial smile widened to reach his eyes when your side of the screen loaded and he could see you. “There she is.”

“Hi Hoon,” you greeted with a small chuckle. You looked around your cluttered workspace for a place to prop your phone up against.

“What're you up to?” He asked while he adjusted himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I—” you made a sound of accomplishment as your phone stayed upright in the space between your desk lamp and a pebble paperweight painted like a rocket that your little sister made you, “—am brushing up on fluid mechanics.”

“Aah… fluid mechanics.” You could hear the slight intonation in his words.

“Don't say the joke.”

“I wasn't gonna say the joke!” He giggled. When he calmed, he pressed his mouth in a smile and made his cheeks look as squishy as a loaf of bread. “Is this a bad time though?”

You shook your head, slipping your pencil behind your ear so you could lace your fingers beneath your chin. “No, it’s not a bad time. This isn’t super important; I just didn’t want old material to jumpscare me when I go into our quiz this week.”

Younghoon nodded in understanding. “I see, I see. That means it’s good that I interrupted your workaholic tendencies.”

You glanced away with your hand half covering your face, and it coaxed a laugh from him that seemed to warm the room. You sputtered, “In my defense—” you paused, your lips parted; it hit you then that you had no defense.

His eyes were the shapes of upturned crescent moons, like shallow bowls filled with mirth. “It’s cute when you try to deny it.”

“It’s not denial—I didn’t deny it,” you pointed out.

“Uh-huh,” he snorted, completely unconvinced, “whatever you say, Miss Mastermind. I should call you Miss Workaholic instead.”

“Aish,” you chided weakly. You glanced down at the old notes that were splayed out before you on your desk. All of the concepts were relatively familiar to you; it was just to refresh yourself. To be frank, though, it wasn’t like you’d spent all evening reviewing old material. Every thirty minutes or so, you could spend another half hour on your phone, getting lost in the entertainment there. You weren’t that much of a workaholic.

You realized that there had been a pregnant moment of silence just then, and when you looked back over at the phone screen, found him watching you with a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. You cleared your throat, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and to take the pencil there down. “So, uhm, any reason in particular for calling?”

His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, as if snapping out of a daze. “Hm? Oh, not really. I just wanted to see what you were up to.” He cocked his head to the side in thought. “Random question, but are you doing anything for Halloween?”

Ah, you nearly forgot that was coming up. With all of the chaos happening in your life at the moment, Halloween was the last thing on your mind.

“Not at the moment,” you told him. You mused, “I don’t think I’ve done anything proper for Halloween since I moved out of my childhood house.” Going Trick-or-Treating as an adolescent was definitely a core memory for you, and was still a prevalent tradition in your household because of the little ones, Sadie and Quincey. As you got older, however, you usually opted to stay at home and answer the door to hand out candy. You still dressed up for the fun of it, and decorating the house was always half the joy of the holiday. You always considered trying to build some kind of candy contraption or maybe setting up a haunted maze in the front lawn, but alas, maybe in the future. “What about you?”

“Well, there’s that party that Changmin and Chanhee are hosting at their place.”

That rang a bell. “Ohh, shit. I totally forgot about that.” Chanhee had mentioned something about that the other night at the tutoring center, but you didn’t make any promises about attending—he knew your crowd preferences, so he didn’t push it. You were sure his and his friend’s parties were a blast though.

Younghoon shifted his lounging position, so now he was laying on his stomach with his legs kicking up from behind him. “Would you wanna come with? I remember that you went to that party with Sakura in September, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to come to this one.”

You tapped the end of your pencil against the pages of your notebook. “I’m not really sure,” you confessed. “I think I originally didn’t plan on going.”

“Ah.”

Guilt swirled around in the pit of your stomach at the disappointment in his voice. “I’m sorry; I probably sound like such a party pooper.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he rushed to assure you. “I get that it might not be something you’re into, and that’s completely fine, you know? I think it would be fun to go with you, but not if you wouldn’t have fun there.”

You inhaled deeply. “I mean… it’s not that I don’t think I would have fun once I—y’know, drank something—but yeah, I think a night of just horror movies or something will do me better.”

He nodded and carded a hand through his hair. “Of course; I understand. And your schedule’s been pretty packed lately, so it’ll be like a little break for you,” he offered.

“Yeah, thanks, Hoon.” You shot him a small smile. It was really cool that he was being so understanding, but you shouldn’t have anticipated anything less from Kim Younghoon. He’d always been this cool.

You learned to read the room, and the energy definitely was lower than before. “Do you know what you’re gonna go dressed as?” You asked in hopes of bringing that energy back up.

He perked up a bit at the question. “I—actually, I have no idea,” he chuckled. “I was thinking a vampire, but I feel like that should just be saved as my backup. That idea’s a little tired.”

Younghoon as a vampire—? Wake up, Yn. You laughed to yourself as a thought popped into your head. “It would be so funny if you showed up as Bill Nye the Science Guy.”

He snorted. “That's not a bad idea. I'm not a science guy, but I am an actor.”

“Hey, there you go,” you said. You pursed your lips. “Hm… I feel like your face is too pretty to fuck up—”

“Thanks?” He guffawed, hand propping his head up. “I'm scared to ask you what that even means.” You didn’t want to tell him exactly what you had in mind, but it seemed that he beat you to a punchline. “To be honest, I'd so let you fuck up my face.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Hyunjae? Hyunjae, is that you?” Younghoon called out behind him toward his closed bedroom door. His ears were rosy as blood, and he was biting his lip through a grin. “I've gotta go, Yn-ie. Byeee!”

“Younghoon, hey! Don't hang—”

He hung up. You took a moment to collect yourself after what he said, as if you could even begin to unpack its meaning.

You could hear the partygoers even from the relative serenity of the back corner of the convenience store. It was Halloween night, and when the sun sank down into the horizon to signal the coming of night, so too did it mark the beginning of the Hallow's Eve festivities.

You had just dropped Sakura off at one of her friends’ house for a party, and she would text you later when she was done. The plan tonight was originally to chill at home and watch scary movies, but you instead found yourself at your second home with your laptop playing The Nightmare Before Christmas. On your head sat a deep purple colored witch's hat on a headband, with glittery black tulle creating a skirt at its base. Even if you didn't dress up completely, you would still pop on a bit of holiday spirit.

With you was a 6-pack of Halloween themed mini cupcakes and a carton of strawberry milk. They would function as your popcorn for the movie and your candy for the night.

From beside you on the table, your phone buzzed. You could see the words diffuse rapidly onto your screen, your eyes snagging on the parts where your older sister was asking about Sakura coming to the wedding even though she was supposed to be in Japan. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to text back. Fuck, the wedding. You texted back a very fast, ‘uhm abt that.’

daphne: ykw don't tell me anything ignorance is bliss daphne: okay what i came here to do originally… daphne: *sent images* your phone: awwwh how cute!! wait wtf since when was quincey into power rangers 😭😭 daphne: dear god don't get me started

You laughed and sent her a final text back commenting about the pictures she sent of her, Sam, Sadie, and Quincey all dressed up to go Trick-or-Treating tonight. As usual, your family extended an invitation to you, but you declined for this year.

“Damn, I should've dressed up like the power rangers.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice right by your ear, and you ripped your earbud out, whipping around to see who it was. There was Younghoon, laughing at your expense with a very amused smile flitting over his face from your reaction.

About five different emotions passed over you at once, preventing you from coming up with an adequate response to his sudden appearance. Your mouth, frankly, had gone dry. His hair was colored and highlighted with strands of platinum silver, artfully arranged around a pair of black sunglasses atop his head. He was clad in all black—the leather jacket seated on his shoulders embellished with white detailing, and his skin glimmering with silver chains. He had on a pair of motorcycle gloves that he was now shucking off, and you realized his lips were a shade darker than they usually were—wait… were they moving?

“—Yn. Yn-iee—”

You blinked long and hard. “Yeah. I'm here.”

The corner of his lips curled upward. “I just said I was sorry for sneaking up on you.”

“Oh.” Wait, he smelled so good right now… Not that he didn't smell good every other day, but…

“Oh,” he parroted with a cock of his eyebrow. “So, what do you think?” He asked the question you didn't even realize you would fear him to ask, and gestured down to the outfit. Younghoon sighed and it sounded half like a laugh. “I feel ridiculous actually. Hyunjae was like—you should do the biker thing with me. And I was like, what do you mean 'biker thing?’ Apparently this is the biker thing.”

You were slapping yourself across the face internally to say something. “You went from Prius driver to motorcycle rider.”

Younghoon nearly keeled over and had to turn to the side to laugh. “I still am a Prius driver,” he said sheepishly.

Your eyes flickered up and down his form again, unable to string together words once more. “Uhm, your hair is silver.”

“Excellent observation.” He reached over and poked the little witch hat on top of your head. “This is cute, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile, reaching up to touch either side of the headband. “I'm just here waiting for Kkura.”

“Oh, are you guys watching something together?”

You shook your head and turned back to your computer screen to wake it up. “No, I volunteered to be her chauffeur tonight. She's at a party right now, but I figured since I had time to kill, I could chill here.”

“It feels like a crime for you to be here all alone,” he said with one of his hands braced against the back of your chair and the other on the table next to your laptop. He was leaning over you now to peer at your screen because the brightness of the store lights made it difficult to see from where he stood, but it made him all the more apparent to your senses.

Goddamn, he was everywhere. “Well, I should be asking you as to why you're here,” you said with a cough. “Don't you have a party to go to, Biker Boy?”

He chuckled at the nickname and stood back up. “I do, but Chanhee and Changmin forgot to get triple A batteries for their battery-operated creepy candy bowl,” he said. “But I'm glad I was sent out to run an errand now.”

You shifted your mouth to the side in a sorry attempt to hide your contentment with that answer. “I'm glad, too. You—the costume looks good, by the way.”

Younghoon sat down in his usual seat across from you. “Thank you,” he replied, pleased. “I almost went out as a loaf of bread. Did you know Party City has these bread loaf costumes that you can wear around your head?”

“I'm not surprised at all,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

You found yourself unhappy with the idea of Younghoon leaving after this. Once your conversation was over, you would go back to your movie and he would go back to his party. Before, you didn't mind the idea of having an evening to yourself, but with him right here in front of you, it was difficult to go back.

Him being here with you felt right. You couldn't explain why you felt that way. He looked like he was about to say something, and you rushed to beat him to it. “Want a cupcake?” You blurted. Before you could go back on your words, you gently pried a miniature cupcake out from its containment and offered it to him.

Younghoon lit up, delicately transferring the treat to his own hands. “I wasn't going to ask, but don't mind if I do. Thanks, Yn.”

You hummed happily as he peeled off the cupcake wrapper and took a generous bite. He did a little happy dance in his seat, and you smiled half into your fist as you leaned part of your cheek onto it.

“That's actually so good,” he said with wide, confused eyes as he reached toward the furthest end of the table for a napkin in the aluminum canister. “Why haven't I tried those before? I think I'm gonna have to take some back.”

“I don't have them often, but they are quite the guilty pleasure,” you agreed. “I would totally sponsor a couple packs for you to take to the party.”

Younghoon made a nodding motion with his head as he dabbed the napkin over his lips. He pulled the napkin away to inspect it, frowning. “Shit, I need to reapply,” he murmured and fished around in his jacket pocket for a tube of the shade that he had wiped off his lips.

Some force from the universe compelled you to do something fucking stupid. “I can help.” No, you can't! Why would you say that, why would you say—

Surprise flickered across his face. “Oh? Sure, I'd appreciate it,” he said, and held the lip gloss out to you. It was a muted brown-ish pink color that would leave a stain of itself upon the wearer's lips, but also had an initial glossy appearance.

With no room for backpedaling, you stood up and took the lip product from him. You stood before him now, between his legs with his hands resting on his knees.

He peered up at you through his dark lashes, lips parted gently.

You wiped the excess product off the doe foot applicator against the rim of the packaging, and then smeared the product over his bottom lip. You took your finger to smudge the color around, making quick work with a second layer for shine. When you were done, you hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath the whole time. You passed the lip product back to him quietly. “All done,” you whispered.

He didn't even look at your handiwork—he didn't need to. He smiled; you thought you saw him steal a glance at some place other than your eyes. “Thanks, love.”

You were right before when you thought you would dread him leaving. He did go, at some point, after retrieving what he had come here for along with at least three half-dozen containers of cupcakes. He sent you a wave from the door, and then he was gone into the night.

You sat there without doing much or thinking anything for a moment or two, your fingertips stained with the color of his lips.

Regret wormed a hole through your stomach, and it felt like it was gaping wide open. Maybe you should've gone to the party, or maybe you should have asked him to stay. Maybe you should have said something different, and maybe… maybe you should have…

Kissed him?

Your eyes stared unblinkingly at the seat across the table from you, and you arrived at a truth you could no longer ignore.

your phone: how do u know u like a guy

kkuramon &lt;3 : IM LEAVING THIS PARTY RIGHT NOW.

EPISODE NINE: ARE YOU A CHICKEN, YN? I DIDN'T THINK SO!

“I'M not going to tell him.”

“Yn,” Sakura said gravely with a deep inhale, “for the last time, are you a chicken?”

You blinked. “I'm sorry, wha—”

“Bawk bawk. Are you a chicken?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at her. It was a crazy image, this view of your best friend, as she stood in front of you with her futuristic spacecore outfit from the Halloween party she left early, squawking like a chicken. “I think you are drunk.”

Sakura deadpanned. “I'm not drunk.”

“And I'm in denial.”

“Oh, good. So you admit it.”

After rapid discourse in your texts, you went to pick Sakura up from her party, then brought her straight home so you could both deconstruct what exactly you concluded while at the convenience store. You recalled everything that happened while Younghoon was there with you, reliving that exact moment it hit you square in the face like an oncoming train.

And now you were here, being asked if you were a chicken and being accused of denial.

You huffed. “I can't just tell him that I like him! It's not—it’s not that big of a deal. It's not like I'm in love with him or anything!” You… you weren't in love, were you…?

Sakura braced both hands on her hips. “You say it's not a big deal, but here we are,” she said with a vague gesture to your bedroom. “Honey,” she continued, but softer, “whether you're in love with him or you just like him more than a friend, it's something. It's different. Are you sure you never felt anything for him before? Not even unconsciously?”

“I mean—” you started, “—I might have. I probably have,” you corrected, cradling your chin in your palm. “I thought he was really cool when I met him last year, but I think that was just one of those silly crushes, y'know? Like the ones you get on people you pass by and know you probably won't meet again?”

She hummed and lowered herself onto the edge of your bed. “Yeah, I get that.”

You scooted your desk chair over to where she was and flopped face first over your bed with a groan. You felt her hand gently smooth down the back of your head. “I dunno, Kkura. Maybe I've always felt something different about him.”

“That could be it,” she said. “And you just didn't realize until it was in your face. Sometimes it sneaks up on you.”

If that wasn't the understatement of the century.

“Why are you so scared of telling him, Yn-ie? From everything I've seen and heard from you, it feels like he probably feels the same way.”

“I'm biased.”

Sakura exhaled. “Logic your way out of this one.”

“Okay, if I logic my way out of this one, I could still get rejected.”

You could feel her eyes roll, even with your face smooshed into the sheets. “I know the prospect of all this is scary, but it's meant to be. That means you care, Yn. That means you care about your friendship with Younghoon, and that's inherently a good thing.”

When you didn't say anything else in response, she added, “You know your feelings will intensify if you leave them unaddressed. Murphy's Law.”

You hated when she was right.

You didn't see Younghoon for at least another week. Once Halloween had gone and passed, November hit everyone in one big fell swoop. Midterms the Sequel was abound, and it did not choose mercy. But amongst the abundance of fires cropping up, you managed to spray some water on a couple to keep the flames tame. (Do not do this to real fires; it won't help.)

It was the middle of the week when you and Younghoon agreed to meet back at the convenience store to hang out. Over the past few days, you kept your interactions with him over text and call as normal as possible, even though you felt like your newly realized feelings were glaringly obvious. If Younghoon thought you were being awkward though, he didn't say.

You and Sakura were in the kitchen right before you were about to take off to head to the convenience store. She was busy making a late lunch (read: dinner); you were busy worrying about everything.

“I've got an idea,” she said, raising the spatula in her hand into the air. “You should bring Younghoon to the wedding.”

You nearly choked on air. “I'm sorry? Say that again.”

With her back turned to you, she gave an emphasized shrug. “If you insist. I was suggesting that you bring Younghoon to the wedding instead of me. It would be killing two birds with one stone.”

“How in the world is that killing two birds with one stone?”

“Well, when you inevitably confess your feelings to him, and he confesses that he reciprocates, you will then have a date for the wedding.” She turned the stove off before twirling around on her slippered-heel, a proud smile on her face. “Ta-da!”

“I just think that if—and big emphasis on if—we do end up together, a wedding would be a lot as an outing.” You imagined how horrific and intimidating that would be, meeting your entire family and extended family after only just deciding to try out dating someone. Even thinking about it sounded overwhelming beyond means, and you couldn't do that to Younghoon.

She angled her head to the side. “But this is Younghoon we're talking about. He literally went to the Space Gala with you on short notice and made you feel safe and comfortable the whole time.”

You sent her a pointed look. “That's not the same thing and you know it.”

She sighed. “Alright. Then what about driving over to meet you at the convenience store at midnight when he had an early rehearsal the next day? He calls you and texts you day and night; he drops by the tutoring center on your shifts to keep you company… I don't know what else you need to convince you.”

You didn't like the spark of hope she was lighting up in your chest. You didn't want to lose a good friend if you were reading him wrong. Was he not charismatic to everyone he met though?

At some point, you got your ass up and down the street. There was a soft tune playing in the background as you wandered through the aisles in search of something to distract you from the anxious racing of your heartbeat. Younghoon had sent you a heads up about an hour ago that he was going to be late because he was coming from an outing, so you had a little more time to mentally prepare. Maybe you would chalk up the courage to tell him. Maybe you really could do it. If you just ripped off the bandaid, whether it be for better or for worse, you could at least say you tried.

You made up your mind then, somewhere in the bread aisle between the wheat and rye.

By the time Younghoon arrived, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear, you managed to hype yourself up to tell him.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said between breaths as he claimed the seat across from you. He paused, sniffing, then grimacing. “And also for the fact that I reek of barbeque.”

“Don't worry about it,” you assured him, teasingly, “the only thing you should be sorry about is not inviting me.”

Younghoon laughed. “You're very right, as always. My friends and I were having an emergency meeting about Jacob and JC!Yn.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? Any updates?”

He groaned then, burying his face into the palms of his hands. Uh oh. “They almost kissed until Eric interrupted them.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yes!” He wailed in agony, eyes screwed closed with imaginary tears running down his cheeks. “It was painful to hear but it was also painful watching those two idiots interact at the table. My friends and I, minus JC!Yn and Jacob—we met a little beforehand to talk about what went down when Eric interrupted, and the lovebirds just came in later.” Younghoon huffed a rough sigh from his lips, partnered with a shake of his head. Then he broke into a smile, the corners of the expression soft, as he looked at you from across the table. He rested his cheek against his hand, chin inclining toward you, “So what's going on with you, hm? I feel like we haven't seen each other in ages.”

“We did call on Tuesday,” you pointed out.

He wrinkled his nose with a frown and shrugged. “It's not the same. I missed you.”

Your heart was beating so loud that you could count them out—thump, thump, thump— “I—missed you, too,” you said in earnest. Tell him, Yn. Tell him.

“You know, I think it's funny how we lost touch for so long, but we eventually came back together,” he murmured as he absentmindedly traced out shapes along the table top. “I guess if it's meant to be, then it'll be.”

The way he worded it… you were spinning yourselves in circles in your head trying to define it, to crack it open and solve it like you could a word problem. If the rotator wheel spins at a velocity of—but at this point, you were certain that you could figure out one of those much faster than this. “Yeah,” you agreed quietly.

“Something on your mind, Yn?” He asked you then. His eyes returned to you and you were suddenly stuck. The earth stopped spinning for this single moment in time, all because of the way this man looked at you.

You swallowed. “I…” The words dissipated in your throat. You couldn't do it.

Younghoon waited patiently, though. He considered you and your wide eyes filled with something he didn't know how to label, and maybe a dash of another thing he hoped to find. “Why don't we take a walk?”

With no reason to refuse, you stood up from your seat with him. He smiled at you as he brushed his hand over your back to guide you to the door, then retracted it to tuck his hand into his pocket.

November had so far shown the city a brisk, deep autumn. The trees were already close to completely shedding their leaves for the oncoming winter, and they were often swept away by a cool draft. You zipped up your jacket as the two of you began walking in the direction opposite to your apartment. Whichever way the wind took you both, you supposed.

For the first time in a long time, you and Younghoon were quiet. You were trapped in your own head with the courage you had earlier having mysteriously disappeared. He seemed content enough to let you ponder on it and to speak whenever you were ready.

“My cousin is getting married,” you found yourself saying.

That didn't seem to be the thing he expected to come from your mouth. Surprise flashed across his features and he clambered for a response. “Oh, well, congratulations. When's the wedding?”

“Thanks.” You said, “It’s in December. I… you know I have a big family.”

“Right.” His gaze softened considerably. “I imagine it must be a lot for you then—a family event of that size.”

You realized that you didn't convey exactly what you wanted to get across, and yet, you were reminded again how much he cared. “Yeah,” you murmured. “My brother Justin isn't gonna be able to make it after we already RSVP'd under my immediate family of seven people, and so my mom and I are trying to find someone to fill that space. She wanted to invite this one guy—he was my next-door neighbor for some time. Not my favorite person in the world because he's kind of got it out for me,” you said next.

You were rounding the corner again to loop back down the street toward your apartment. The organ in your chest was flying against your ribcage now; there wasn't much time left to tell him. You could see the metaphorical sand in the glass draining.

“So you're not going to invite this guy then, right?”

You nodded. “And I offered up Sakura just to appease her for the time being, but Sakura's gonna be in Japan in December.”

Younghoon trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. “I see.”

“That's my… that's my dilemma.” No, that isn't your only dilemma, Yn! Tell him! But the apartment was coming up in view, and you would be at the entrance in just a few more minutes.

You and Younghoon slowed your pace as you rounded the block again to cross the street. When you glanced over at him, you swore you could see the conflict warring across his face. If he saw gears turn in your head, you could see a battle scene in his eyes.

“Is this all that's been bothering you?” He asked at last, and you didn't know what to do about the slight intonation in his voice, like he was hoping for something. “I'm not invalidating your stress or anything, I was just—you know, if you had anything else you needed to get off your chest—”

“No, it's just that.” You could practically hear Sakura clucking like a chicken from wherever she was. You quickly added as the apartment door came into view, “It's—it’s not a big deal—finding a plus one, I mean. I'll figure it out.”

Plus one. He'd been your plus one to the Space Gala, but this was different. This was so much more different than that.

But maybe your words sounded like a dismissal or he was thrown off today. He cupped the back of his neck with a small nod. “Okay. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Hoon.”

He smiled then, the same soft-cornered one that reached his eyes, and that you'd come to be familiar with. You couldn't imagine seeing that face reject your feelings even if you knew he would probably let you down easily.

EPISODE TEN: YOU SPELL PARALLELISM WITH THREE L'S BECAUSE THERE ARE THREE LOSERS

THE engineering library at nine o'clock at night was a familiar environment for you, Chanhee, and Jungwoo. Dead week—the week before finals—meant that it saw the three of you twice as much, even on the weekend before Dead week began. It didn't mean you got studying done though. Sometimes you were just there.

“You guys are so fake! How could I not be updated on every single microevent in your lives?” Jungwoo cried, gesticulating his hands around far too fast for your brain to comprehend. He was about three shots of espresso and five hours in, if that explained things. You were all aware that your habits were not healthy, but no college kid was. “And you call me your friend?”

The thing that had triggered this reaction from Jungwoo had been Chanhee's fault. Or maybe that was your fault. Either way, the topic somehow had gone from calculating your respective grades with probable curves (calculating failure, at this rate) to you and Younghoon.

You liked to argue there was no you and Younghoon—it was just you-comma-Younghoon. Chanhee had sassed back at you with a swift, “Oh, so she's an English major now?” As if English majors were the only ones who could understand grammar and punctuation.

Jungwoo, having had no context given whatsoever, realized quickly that he was out of the loop. Now, you were here.

“I demand the tea!” He screeched, hitting the palm of his hand against the table. Thank god there was no one else here to listen in or shush you and your friends. If there was one thing about the engineering library, it was how out of the way it was from the main campus.

“I really don't think you should have anything else caffeinated—”

Jungwoo's head whipped toward you and his nostrils were flared. “You must think you're so funny,” he said with narrowed eyes and a saccharine smile. You would have been scared had you not seen this man once blow a massive snot bubble all over his differential calculus homework. (If anyone found out about that, it most definitely didn’t come from your lips…)

Your eyes shuddered, an innocent smile coming to your lips. “I was just saying.”

“Shuuush!” He stopped, thought about it, then retracted. “Actually, don't shush. Tell me what you and Chanhee know, but I don't.”

Chanhee snorted from his side of the table. “That's a long list.”

Jungwoo cut a glare toward Chanhee. “I despise you both,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, but all jokes aside,” Chanhee said as he tucked his tablet stylus behind his ear. He cocked a high-arched brow your way. “What is going on, Yn? Do update us. Or for Jungwoo’s sake, start from the beginning.”

Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. You hadn’t expected Chanhee to turn on you, too, but perhaps you should have seen this coming. A generous amount of time had passed since you last failed to confess your feelings to one Kim Younghoon. Between that day and today, you had managed to finally submit your space grant application and passed your second round of midterms by the seat of your pants (hip, hip, hooray). Since that day, you and Younghoon would continue to interact as normal, except for the fact that you were practically walking on eggshells around him.

Just the other day, you both fell asleep while on-call with each other. When you’d woken up the morning afterward, you discovered that, one, it was a good thing you plugged your phone into its charging cord; and two, that Younghoon was just as pretty asleep as he was awake.

To this news, Chanhee merely fluttered his lengthy lashes, unimpressed. “And you’re telling me you don’t think he feels the same way?” He asked.

At some point, Jungwoo had broken out a half-eaten granola bar from his bag to munch on as a replacement for popcorn. “I can’t believe I’ve missed so much,” he said, shoving the bite into his cheek so he could speak. “And Kim Younghoon, Yn? Wooooow, I see you girl. That guy was insane as Charles Bingley in freshman year.”

“You’re so right,” Chanhee chimed in with an indulgent nod, pointing his stylus at Jungwoo. “I don’t know if insane was the right word, but he encapsulated the Bingley gent essence quite nicely.”

“I never saw that one,” you confessed.

Jungwoo’s face scrunched up on one side. “Clearly. At least he knows that you’re not just in it for his celebrity status.”

You leaned back in your chair and dragged your hands down the length of your face with an embarrassed groan. Only your guy friends; Chanhee and Jungwoo, as expected, gave a light laugh at your expense. “I don't like you guys.”

“C’mon Yn-ie,” Chanhee teased and reached over to poke your arm with the butt of his stylus pen. When you peeked one eye out between your fingers, he puckered his lips at you like a penguin. “Love you.”

You reluctantly slid your hands down. “If I'm gonna be clowned for my feelings, I'd rather be in bed!” You declared, taking your phone from the pile at the center of the table to check the time. It was nearly ten o'clock at this rate. Ah, and had anything productive been done? Absolutely none. Perfectly on track for the three of you.

“Nooo, don't go, Yn! You're too sexy,” Jungwoo whined.

“I think you should tell Younghoon your feelings,” said Chanhee. He hiked his feet onto the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. “You need to razz him up.”

You frowned. “I thought it was ‘rizz.’”

“You don't have rizz, though, so I thought razz would be the next best thing,” he said flippantly.

“Burn!” Jungwoo exclaimed with his hand cupped around his mouth, and you were suddenly reminded that he was in a frat.

You leaned your cheek against the palm of your hand with a dramatic sigh. “You're right; I do not have rizz.”

Chanhee's brows scrunched together in concern. “Oh my god, I thought you would fight back—of course, you have rizz, Yn! You snagged Kim Younghoon!”

Before you could tell him you’d given up on fighting back or before Jungwoo could give up on his sanity, Chanhee's phone buzzed from where it was sitting at the center of the table. You expected it to be Chanhee's friend, CH!Yn, since she was the most probable person texting at this hour; instead, Chanhee let out a delighted gasp, slapping his hand to his mouth at whatever notification he found waiting for him.

Both you and Jungwoo leapt to your feet and scrambled to peer over his shoulders. “What? Who is it?”

“It's JC!Yn,” he shrieked. “She's asking about flower shops.”

You and Jungwoo stayed perched over either of Chanhee's shoulders to see what would transpire. It was a brief exchange within the group chat of three people that included JC!Yn, Changmin, and Chanhee. Chanhee somehow knew about a flower shop in the university district that was open until eleven o'clock. After all your years of attending this school, you had no idea it even existed.

But once JC!Yn was off on her way, Chanhee turned his phone off with a prediction that he would not be hearing from her until at least tomorrow morning. “Looks like someone's getting confessed to tonight,” he snickered to himself.

Jungwoo was back in his original seat—a generous wording, since he leaned a good eighty percent of his body over the table with his knees braced on the chair, legs kicking up behind him. “You know what you should do, Yn? You should sweep Younghoon off his feet just like that. I'm sure he adores receiving flowers.”

“Would it not be as special though if he gets flowers after every show?” You asked genuinely, pressing the butt of your pen between your lips. “I'm not against getting him flowers.” Flowers would be a good idea… you'd seen plenty of movies that had romanticized the idea of giving and receiving flowers in your mind, and it would be an obvious gesture. At the very least, you could pull a Younghoon and tell him the flowers reminded you of him because they were gorgeous—or something to that effect. Maybe you really didn't have rizz…

Jungwoo shrugged with one of his shoulders. “I'm sure it would be special coming from you. I dunno. It's just something to think about.”

“So,” Juyeon drawled with his head lolling over the back of the couch to look over at Younghoon, “now that Jacob's situation is solved, what about you?”

Younghoon glanced up from his phone. “What about me?”

There were five of them holed up in Sangyeon's apartment presently, and four of them had invaded the eldest friend's abode to hoard his TV and play Super Smash Brothers. He was the only one with a working TV and decent WiFi to game on that wasn't Jacob and Kevin's apartment. Only, a couple hours in, Juyeon received a text message from Eric with a live update that JC!Yn was going to confess to Jacob.

Eric had ended his update with an ominous: Tell Kevin hyung he shouldn't go home tonight 🤣. That definitely livened up the place.

Kevin sat up from where he had been lying on the floor. “Oh, yo, you're so right. What's going on with you and Yn?”

Younghoon's eyes widened. “Nothing.”

“Don't give us that bullshit,” Hyunjae clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Didn't you say that you liked her?” He teased with a glint in his eyes as he wiggled his fingers Younghoon's way.

The man at the heart of the interrogation rolled his eyes and smacked Hyunjae's hand away. “I will not object to having said that I liked her, if that's what you're getting at.” Frankly, he would own up to having admitted that was how he felt about you. So what, he liked you? He wasn't embarrassed by it. The only problem was living with this knowledge and not telling you.

Sangyeon came over from the kitchen to lean against the back of the couch. He had a drink in hand, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Do you have a plan or are you gonna pull a Jacob and be a chicken?”

Kevin arched a high brow. “Only I can call Cobie a chicken, thank you very much.” He turned on Younghoon next with an accusing finger. “And you—I can't even go home right now, so let's get down to business.”

Younghoon blinked. “What business—”

“Order in the court!” Juyeon interjected. He grinned like a bunny. “Sorry, I know I have to wait until I'm a lawyer first, but it's just so fun to say.”

Sangyeon sputtered a laugh against the rim of his drink, blindly patting Juyeon on the head. “It's cool, man. Very appropriate timing.”

“We should play Marvin Gaye,” said Hyunjae. “It'll get us in the mood to tell Younghoon how to properly woo somebody.”

Younghoon swore his face was probably the shade of a ripe tomato. This was in no way how he thought his evening would go. And to be honest, he never ever expected having this conversation with his friends, ever. The last thing he wanted to do was to make his feelings all the more forward in his mind, and he was already having trouble whenever he was around you, and all you did was remind him of all the reasons why he wanted to be with you.

The thing was that he couldn't tell if you reciprocated his feelings. Sure, he could flirt and insert himself into your life all he wanted. But you could just be playing nice!

…actually, you probably were just playing nice. Dear god, he was back at square one.

He simply didn't want to lose your friendship, at the very least. Even if you didn't want to be with him in that way, he would pull up his big boy pants and be a friend to you instead. Then he wouldn't have to live without seeing you smile or listening to you work out problems aloud while he did mundane things in the background—

“And we lost him.”

Younghoon cleared his throat, raising a hand up to scratch his jawline. “You did not lose me,” he protested. The amount of attention on him right now was uncanny. Of course, he could go up onstage and be a character—but reality was different. He couldn't put on a mask or another personality; these people knew him… wasn't that scary? And yet, somehow freeing, at the same time.

Kevin inclined his chin to him with a little smirk. “You did have hearts in your eyes, my dude.”

“Aww, he's in love,” Sangyeon gushed while standing up to go refill his drink.

“I'm not in love!” He said with his index finger pointed at the sky. (He was in love. Of course, he knew he was in love. Because when all he did for the past three months of his life besides school was be around you and think about you and you you you… how could he not? Younghoon could fake any emotion in the world in front of an audience of people, but your eyes alone would devastate him.)

The entire apartment, sans Younghoon, chorused altogether now, “Yes, you are.”

Younghoon balked, rocketing upright. “There is no way all of you agreed on something for the first time and it was this.”

Hyunjae patted his friend's thigh from his position on the floor. “Believe it, Lover Boy. So what're you gonna do about it?”

“I wouldn't even know how to tell her,” Younghoon huffed, leaning back against the couch cushion with his arms crossed over his chest in thought.

That day when you'd told him about the wedding, he had been so hopeful that you were going to say something about feelings. He was so certain that he read you right, but you said nothing else afterward. He would totally go to that wedding with you, though; he just figured you might not want him to go, considering you'd dismissed it so quickly afterward.

Sangyeon came back to the couch and perched himself onto the arm of the sectional next to Juyeon. “It doesn't have to be fancy—you just need to be clear and straightforward.”

“Flowers could soften the blow,” suggested Juyeon.

Kevin chuckled. “For him or for Yn?”

Younghoon clicked his tongue at him with a playful scowl. “Quiet, you. But thanks, guys. I guess I just want to do this right. I don't wanna ruin what we already have.”

Juyeon pursed his lips and reached over to clasp his hand on his friend's shoulder. “You won't, man. I guarantee you that.”

“So if I get my heart broken, I can sue you for false advertisement?” Younghoon asked with his lips stretched in a grin, eyelashes fluttering innocently.

“Pssh,” Juyeon laughed, “try me.”

EPISODE ELEVEN: THE USUAL TIME & PLACE

IT was a frightening sequence of events when you texted Younghoon and he texted you at the same time. The Monday after Chanhee and Jungwoo had hyped you up to confess, you went around different items of furniture in your apartment with your phone in hand, pencil behind your ear, trying to work up the courage again to send the text.

And you did… eventually.

The usual time and place was decided upon, and it had snuck up on you as the day went on. You tied your shoes on and slipped out the door, making sure to pat your pocket down for where you had tucked your secret weapon for the night. As soon as you and Younghoon had confirmed a meeting for today, you ran to your (favorite) grad student, Seulgi, and asked very nicely for her set of keys into the planetarium, promising to treat her to brunch if she did.

The walk over to the convenience store was a jitter-filled one. Your stomach was doing cartwheels alongside the flips your heart performed in your chest. There was still activity on the streets, even at nine o’clock on a Dead week evening. You jumbled through the routine you had in mind over and over, a broken record of hopes and wants. The plan was to take a walk to the planetarium and use said walk to work up the courage to tell him. If anything went wrong, then you could cover it up with a cool presentation of stars overhead.

This isn’t lame, is it? You thought to yourself as you let yourself into the store. You were so in your head, you nearly didn’t notice that Younghoon was standing right in front of you, having just walked out of one of the aisles. You startled, breath hitching in your throat.

He smiled, the expression soft. “Hey,” he said to you and had to clear his throat, a hand brushing through his hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“All good; guess my head was just somewhere else,” you laughed nervously. You gripped the key in your pocket until you were sure your skin would smell like metal by the time you got to the planetarium. The two of you had met and hung out here a bundle of times before this, but this time in particular was different. The energy shifted in a way you couldn’t foretell if it was good or bad. For your sake, you hoped it was the former.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked and took a step toward you.

You inhaled, nodding. “I do,” you said. “I—actually, uhm, do you want to go to the planetarium with me?” From your pocket, you withdrew the keys Seulgi gave you and wiggled them around by the keyring. “I bribed one of my seniors for the keys.”

Younghoon brightened, a laugh falling out of his mouth, and now he was standing right next to you. “Oh my god, you evil genius… my beloved mastermind, are we about to break some rules?” He teasingly bumped your arm with his, his eyebrows wagging up and down.

“Only if you’ll break them with me,” you beamed and reached for the door to the front door.

“But of course,” he played along with a giddiness shining through his expression. “Anything with you. Though, I’d like to stop somewhere on the way first.”

Without even visiting your table in the back of the shop, you and Younghoon took off into the night together. You couldn’t imagine where Younghoon wanted to stop by on the way, but you thought it was probably to run an errand of sorts. But for the moment, it was at the back of your mind as you tried to keep this as normal as possible. “Different” was so intimidating—you wanted to sink into the comfort that was whatever you and Younghoon had.

It wasn’t difficult to slip into that normalcy, though. He always made it so easy.

“—and they did so well, Yn-ah. You need to come back and see them in person; they’re always asking me where you are,” he told you with an invigorated passion. He gave a feigned sniffle. “Pretty sure they like you more than me.”

You shook your head, laughing, “You’re so dramatic. They love you, Hoon. I mean, I can’t even believe that they would remember me after having met them only once!”

“Well,” he drawled, glancing away for a spell, “that might be my doing.” He confessed sheepishly, “I do talk about you a lot—but hey! You can’t blame me! I like talking about subjects that mean a lot to me.”

Your heart made a full stop in your chest, and you nearly physically halted in the middle of the walkway. The gears in your head could barely process what he had just said without going into a spiral. It was a reminder of what this night was originally about. You sputtered out a reply, “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“I try,” he jested.

“I do finish all my finals next week by Tuesday,” you told him. “I can totally come by that Wednesday and Friday for a little wing fitting. When’d you say the show was?”

He squinted one of his eyes in thought. “Err… it should be the Friday night after next, but if you do come through with those props, that should still give them enough time to get used to them before the performance.”

You nodded, mentally mapping out your schedule. Once your finals were through, you would have plenty of time to tinker with the props and have some proper fun after such a long quarter. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I appreciate it a lot, Yn,” he said, ducking his head as he nudged you with his elbow, “thank you in advance. I call you a workaholic, but here I am encouraging it.”

You chuckled. “It’s no trouble, Younghoon. Seriously. I like doing crafty things, and it’ll be a nice project. I promise.” To the end of that, you stressed further, “And if you think about it like you’re encouraging my hobbies and passions, then it feels a lot less like work.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right.” His head perked up when his eyes caught onto something in the near distance. His fingers unconsciously caught onto your wrist. “Here it is.”

Wherever you expected to find yourself, it was not a flower shop. There was no shop name or title anywhere that you could see, just the sketched posters and advertisements in the windows of chrysanthemums and hydrangeas. Troughs of vivid blooms lined the front windows like testaments to the plants one might expect to find within. Hanging planters dangled from the overhang, vines and foliage spilling over in an elegant mess.

There was one other sign posted in the window of the door that read its opening hours from 8am to 11pm.

Younghoon's cheekbones seemed to flush in the light streaming out from the inside of the shop. “Shall we?” He asked shyly and grabbed the door handle to open it for you.

You stepped inside before him with the door closing behind the two of you softly. You weren't sure where to go first—the room was constructed with two long tables in the center to hold smaller planters, then the perimeter was covered nearly from floor to ceiling with the larger plants, as well as the hanging garden pots like the ones outside hung from the ceilings by the lights.

There was someone to the right side of the room with a large, green watering can in hand. She glanced up when she heard the two of you come in. “Hi! How can I help you two?” She asked, reaching up to take out one of the earbuds she had in.

Younghoon placed one of his hands on your shoulder. “Would you mind if we took a look around?”

“No, not at all. Help yourselves; if you need anything, don't hesitate to holler.”

He smiled, “Sounds good, thank you!”

Did he know what he was here for? You followed him toward the leftmost table, unsure of where to wander yourself since there was so much stimuli. He stopped at one of the pots and you stood beside him. Leaning closer, you whispered, “I don't really know what we're looking at.”

“Me neither,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin, but then he pulled out a planter tag at the front of the pot he was examining. “But these might help.”

“You're probably right,” you mused, patting him on the arm.

“Look, these are carnations.” He scooted over to the next one over. There were an array of different colors of them, ranging from white to the deepest red. He placed a finger against his lips, then pointed at the white ones. “Those mean innocence, and those—” these were directed toward the blush pink ones, “—something along the lines of 'I'll never forget you.’”

You still stood close to him, and you reached over to gently warm the velvety petals between your fingertips. “I hope it's okay to touch them,” you suddenly said, swiftly retracing your fingers and peering over your shoulder at the worker.

“I'm sure it's okay,” he chuckled. He pointed out a buttery yellow set of petals a few pots down. “Aren't these gorgeous?” He breathed in awe.

When you arrived at the petal of choice, you raised the tag to see its name—daffodils. They were beautiful indeed, with pristine petals and tall stems, the color of them a rich yellow as if it had been painted rather than grown.

“What do these mean?” You asked.

“Unrivaled love? I think,” he answered with a slight tilt of his head.

You considered him for a moment with lips parted. “You're incredible, you know that? How do you know all this?”

His smile sweetened into something that made your chest feel warm. “You say that as if you're not the incredible one. But, Google. Don't look at my search history,” he muttered sheepishly.

It made you smile anyway.

You turned your head to scan the rows upon rows of diversity in one room. You were never quite the foliage fiend, but you could appreciate nature's beauty as much as nature's laws. Even if you might never be able to grow flowers of your own (because trust that you'd tried), as long as these places still existed, you could still admire and appreciate them.

Your eyes snagged onto a bundle of tulips at the front of the shop and you wandered over to take a look. Younghoon trailed after you to see what you wanted to look at, and stopped with you to admire the tulips. Their buds were near perfect, and they varied in so many colors—all soft purples, reds, yellows, pinks.

“Wow,” you said.

“Wow,” he agreed. He caressed the outside petals of one of the bulbs, then took the individual flower by the stem. He took yet another in his opposite hand and faced you. “What did the tulip say to the other tulip?”

You blinked. “Do indulge me.”

“We should put our tulips together and kiss,” he answered, and he pressed his own lips together in a barely contained smile.

You covered your mouth with one hand, a smile of your own blossoming under your palm. “I don't know about that one…”

“I don't be-leaf you when you say you're not a fan of that one.”

At this point, you could feel your face heat up and you could no longer hide your smile. “You're incorrigible.”

“It made you smile,” he quipped back with a smirk. He placed the tulips in his hands gently back into their pot, then swiveled on the balls of his feet. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are,” you agreed.

“Like you.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, but he already had his back turned to you as he surveyed the shop for the person who was on shift. Yet, you still spied the bit of red creeping up the back of his neck, and found yourself content.

“Hi, excuse me!” He caught the worker's attention. “Could we get just a little bundle of these tulips, please? Thank you so much.”

Your eyes widened and you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “Younghoon, what're you—”

He had a satisfied smile on his face. “Getting you flowers.”

“You don't need to get me flowers.”

“I’d like to,” he said simply, and that was the end of the conversation.

Less than ten minutes later, you and Younghoon were back out on the sidewalk with a new addition to the group. You cradled a small bouquet of tulips in the crook of your arm. The girl working there tonight had told you that being open so late caught a lot of last minute gift-givers as she wrapped your flowers in a tan colored butcher paper. She seemed to be an expert at tying ribbon bows that were just as beautiful as the flowers she tended, too.

You were already spinning far from your original intentions. You hadn't accounted for Younghoon making this gesture, and you wondered if he planned something for tonight.

Your counterpart suddenly cleared his throat while the two of you resumed your journey to the planetarium. You were only a few minutes away from the planetarium now. “I know I asked earlier if there was something you wanted to talk about,” he said, “but there is something I wanted to also talk about.”

Your heart fumbled over itself. “Uhm, yeah—yes, what's on your mind?”

From where you were on the street, you could see the broad dome of your target building just across the street. There was a rapid leap in your heart rate as he faced you beneath the street light shining over your heads like some kind of strangely timed, solo spotlight. The crosswalk turned green, but you stayed rooted to your place.

“I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this,” he began. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed. You could only imagine how long he spent training himself to hold a poker face, but it was the liminal spaces where you could see right through him. “I like you a lot, Yn. It's—it’s an overwhelming amount, what I feel about you.”

You peered over at him wordlessly and hung onto every syllable coming from his mouth.

He wrung his hands out; this perhaps wasn't a script he was prepared for. But who ever came prepared for something like this? “And I think it's pretty obvious what I was hoping for tonight to be like from the flowers and all, and I was hoping that I was being just as obvious with how I felt about you, and… I don't know. I just… I had to tell you.” His lips pressed together so that the small divot in the side of his cheek appeared.

You didn't know how to describe the wave of emotion that washed over you. There was the rapid heart beat thundering in your ears, the tingle of relief in your shoulders, the happiness taking flight in your stomach.

“I have to be honest, I—I feel the exact same way you do.” You ducked your head, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “And I didn't know how to tell you either because I was really scared.” Your voice tripped, and you picked yourself back up. He waited for you, as always, patiently letting you say your piece. “I didn't want to lose you as a friend, at the very least, because you've come to mean so much to me over these past few months.”

Younghoon's smile widened and the amber color from the streetlight above haloed around his head for one dizzying second. “I didn't want to lose you either. I'm literally head over heels for you; you're every… you're everything.”

You didn't know how else to express your feelings through words, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, the flowers coming around his back to avoid being crushed. “Not good at words, sorry,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket.

You could feel the vibrations of his warm chuckle as he slowly wrapped his arms around you, his lips pressing against the side of your head. Message received.

Not everything went to plan, and it was important to exercise flexibility in such times. You still snuck (broke) into the planetarium with Younghoon, hand-in-hand, but all feelings were already known and laid sprawled on the table.

There was a center platform in the main showcase hall that was carpeted in a layer of fake grass that you and Younghoon gladly lounged upon to watch the universe. The image projected above your heads now of faraway solar systems and galaxies was unfortunately not real—they were produced by a specific software rather than the lens of a telescope. It was breathtaking, nonetheless.

You laid with your back against the fake grass next to Younghoon, your arms pressed against one another. The light projecting onto the dome above filtered down and painted you both in colors of stars and dark matter, all of those swirls of oranges and purples and blues and white.

“There is one thing that's still on my mind.”

He hummed. “What's that?”

“I was wondering—and you can totally say no—but the wedding…” You glanced over at him, and you wondered if he could understand what you were probing at. “I was wondering if you'd be comfortable going as my plus one. It's just the reception, but I understand if it's a lot.”

He smiled at you, big and bright, “I'd love to go as your plus one.”

Relief and joy fluttered in your chest now. It was a miracle your heart didn't grow wings and fly out then. “Thank you, really.”

His fingers inched over yours until they intertwined as a silent acknowledgement. He knew. He always knew somehow.

In the silence, you returned your gaze up to the night sky. It was crazy how vast the universe was and how small you were in relation to it. When put into perspective, your problems here on Earth were so much smaller than the world—and yet, they were still important.

“When I was a kid,” you started to say, and heard a small sound from your right as he looked back over at you, “I wanted to touch the stars.” You turned your head to look back at him.

His lip quirked upward fondly. “Something of yours will touch the stars one day.”

“I hope so,” you mused back. That was the dream.

His eyes dropped down to your mouth now, and everything quieted, as if you were in a vacuum with only the two of you. In this reality, no one and nothing else existed.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin as he leaned toward you and pressed his lips against yours. His body rolled half over yours, one hand cupping your jaw with a tenderness you were certain to become addicted to. It was your chest against his, your nose slotting beside his, your cheek beneath his thumb. His lips were a perfect marriage of pressure and softness at once.

When he pulled away, he didn't go far. “I think I just touched a star,” he murmured.

The breath in your throat hitched. “You're too good with words, Kim Younghoon.”

His eyes crinkled. “We can do something more your speed and study the space between us instead.”

You had to turn away to laugh, the sound of his own joining yours.

“Hey, it's a yes or no question,” he giggled, turning your chin back toward him. He bit his lip through a grin. “Can I kiss you again?”

You would be a fool to refuse him. In an instant, he lowered his lips over yours again, enveloped you in his embrace. And with every moment passed, you sank further and further into him. Maybe the universe was uncharted and alluring, but the universe could wait.

You had all the world right here.

a/n: tumblr fcking hates me and my dialogue, confirmed. anyways, pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! for now, i'll see u in hot commodity!

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[the-record]

kissing lessons: 4

synopsis: you’ve finally had enough of your mom and ellie’s offer is more then tempting

song: kissing lessons - lucy dacus

pairing: college!ellie x reader

warnings: homophobia

a/n: so sorry this took me forever to get out 💔 i dont love it but the plot needs to be set up finally

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

“can i kiss you?”

you couldn’t stop thinking about what ellie had said. why would she say that? she was really making this all so difficult.

you barely talked to your mom the next few days, making small talk at the dinner table and saying goodnight. you talked to joel more than her. more time spent in ellie’s room than your own, getting to know each other all over.

your mom stopped you before you left saturday afternoon. “where are you going?” you sighed, hand on the door to leave.

“a friends.” you pulled open the door.

“ellie’s?” she whispered. “you know what they say about her sweetheart…” you groaned and dropped the handle as you turned to look at her.

“no. tell me, what do they say?”

she sighed. “you know… that she’s a… a lesbian.” she whispered the last part like it was a dirty word.

“and? so what if she is?” you laughed. “scared she’s gonna infect me?” you walked out before she had a chance to say yes. that she was.

“what’s up with you,” ellie poked as she searched through one of her boxes. “you’ve been real quiet.”

when you sighed, she stood up and came over to sit beside you. “were you serious about your apartment?” you looked over at her with your head in one hand. “about me being your roommate?”

she nodded, “yea, of course. wouldn’t have offered if i wasnt.” she smiled softly. “what made you change your mind though? you seemed pretty against it before.”

“my mom.” ellie looked to you with a look asking for more. “she’s just… she hates that we hang out.”

ellie laughed, nodding. “yea, i did prank call her a lot as a kid.” but her smile dropped when you shook your head. “then what?”

“she hates that we hang out, because you’re gay ellie.”

“oh.” you felt the awkwardness seep into her room. “well… her loss i guess.”

you sighed and dropped your head into your hands. “sorry, im sorry.” you rubbed your eyes, “i’m gonna go.”

ellie stopped you as you stood up to leave, her hand grabbing yours to pull you back down. “stop, it’s not your fault.” she poked at you until you turned to look at her. “im fully aware not everyone’s gonna like me babe, for a myriad of reasons. this isn’t on you, okay?” she hummed at you when you didn’t respond. “okay?”

“yea okay.” she smiled, pulling a smile out of you too. “im serious about the apartment though. i’ll get another job if i have too, i wanna move in.”

she nodded and leaned back against the wall. “alright, yea we’ll get you on the lease then.”

your mom was waiting in the living room when you got home that night. “honey, we need to talk.” you groaned quietly, joining her on the couch. “i don’t want you hanging out with that ellie anymore. she’s not a good influence for you.”

“whatever.” you got up to head to your bedroom but she kept talking.

“if you are under my roof, you will follow my rules. you understand?” her voice is hollow as she speaks.

you laughed, “good thing i won’t be here much longer.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” she stands with her hands on her hips, a smirk on her face.

“im moving out.”

#💋kissing lessons💋 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fic #ellie willams the last of us #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams angst #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us

[archermind]

seen your post abt suggestions for a spencer reid fic, this has been marinating in my brain so pls bare with me. <3

spencer reid x aarons daughter! reader

maybe he forgets his lunch, and his daughter brings it in? or something along the lines of needing a tutor? ill take ANYTHING. bonus points if its fluffy and smutty

feel free to change anything!!!

-🃏

Arousal Theory

Spencer Reid x Aarons daughter!reader

Description: You are Aaron Hotchner’s only daughter. It is safe to say he is a little over protective of you. You have never been able to bring a guy friend home without your dad profiling them and scaring them away. The one guy he never thought to profile was his own co-worker, Spencer Reid. 

Word count: 2,500 approx.

Content Warning: fluff and light smut, light choking, hair pulling, fingering, small age gap.

y/n/n = your nickname

Author note: omgomg! I'm so glad someone sent this request in! Don't worry anonymous, I too have had this scenario brewing in my head. I loved your suggestion, thank you for submitting it! I hope i have done your idea justice <3

You hated your dads job. Mainly because he was too good at it. Every boy you were ever remotely friends with, you weren't anymore. All because of Aaron Hotchner. Each time you invited a guy to your house, your dad kicked into his professional shoes and took it upon himself to profile the poor boy. No guy was ever good enough for you or some of their characteristics unnerved Hotch.

This was the reason why at 22 years old, you still had never had any romantic relationship. The most romance you received lately was with a $20 lovehoney sex toy you bought in a valentines sale. Now that is romance. Your days were spent scrolling through tumblr, ao3 and erotic ebooks - yet every time after finishing the romance novel that piqued your current interest, you felt like sleeping on the highway. You couldn't help but think… ‘If this is my life at 22, I'm going to be the lonely old cat lady by the age of 25’.

It was a casual Saturday, you stood within the kitchen as your cat purred lapping in and out of your legs as you prepared her food. You weren’t really a sociable person. You mainly spent your days studying, preparing late dinners for your dad and caring for your cat - cookie. It was the main reason you didn't stay in dorms for college, you couldn't stand others. Other people your age were out drinking or hooking up. You just simply didn’t have the energy to go out to a party every week. 

Your feet padded along the tiled floor as you made your way to the fridge. Opening the door, you let out a gasp. Your dad had forgotten his lunch. The BAU day can get pretty long and you know your dad often gets so caught up in a case he forgets to eat. You grabbed the tub, a basic lunch packed inside of it. You lightly stifled a laugh, seeing your fathers poor excuse of a ‘nutritious’ lunch. Opening the tub you pulled out an apple, some crackers and cheese, along with a small sandwich. Enough to fill a five year old… not a hardworking, criminal catching 43 year old man. 

Luckily, you had cooked too much cheesy spinach pasta for lunch. You packed Hotch a generous amount. Before putting it into a lunch bag, grabbing your keys and heading out of the door. After two tries of twisting the ignition key for your car, it suddenly kicked into motion. With winter approaching, your old beat up car was struggling. The drive wasn’t too long fortunately. Getting a space in the small Quantico parking lot was your greatest problem.

You made your way through the reception area of the building, confidently walking towards the elevator. However, you were abruptly stopped in your tracks after seeing the ‘out of order’ sign. You sighed making your way over to the stairwell. You saw someone entering through the stairwell door and realized the doors to the stairs were key card accessed.

“HOLD THE DOOR PLEASE!” you yelled, running towards the boy who held the door. 

“Sorry, but you have to have an access card to be allowed through” the boy spoke, gesturing to his key card. 

You squint your eyes to read his name before responding with a coy smile. 

“Well actually… spencer.” you smiled at him, “i have to just quickly drop off my dads lunch, so could you be a sweetheart and just let me through?”

He shifted anxiously as you battered your eyelashes at him, trying your hardest to persuade the older boy. 

“I guess so..” he responded, looking your impatient demeanor up and down “what floor are you heading to?” 

“Floor four” you stated quickly as you rushed toward the steps, spencer hot on your trail

“That's good because I actually am too!” Spencer gleefully responded as you hummed in surprise. 

You were slightly short of breath by the time you reached the fourth floor. Spencer however was still just as energetic as before. All throughout the walk up the stairs, he rambled about which tourist attraction has the most steps in the U.S after you made a single complaint about the elevator being out of order. 

“Here we are,” spencer opened the door “who is your da-”

“Y/N/N?” Hotch exclaimed, coming up to you with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Hey dad, I came here to bring you lunch… you forgot yours” you pointed out with a laugh

“Oh? I didn't realize” he gratefully took the tub from your grasp, “i see you have met Dr. Spencer Reid” 

You and Spencer both looked toward each other. You gave him a polite smile and then nodded sweetly to your dad. 

“I was just talking to Spencer this morning about how you could use his extensive knowledge to support you in your studies” he spoke confidently, yet.. You found yourself on the verge of protesting. As you opened your mouth, Hotch began again…

“He already said yes.”

Great.

You anxiously bit your nails and paced just behind the front door, awaiting the moment Spencer would knock. From the moment you both met, you thought he was handsome. The way his brown soft looking curls were all laid messy. The way his honey brown eyes stared focused on every point of your face, as you spoke. It made you want to know him more. Everything about Dr Spencer Reid intrigued you. 

A knock broke your train of thought- or more like your fantasy imagination about your dads Co-worker. It sent a shock through you. You shook your arms attempting to get rid of your nerves. It is just a 26 year old man coming to help you study. Nothing else… nothing more. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror to check if you looked good - to study of course

You death gripped the handle of the front door and pulled it open to see Spencer stood there. He wore a hat, gloves and scarf to help protect him from the cold brittle air. It made you feel terrible for leaving him that extra few minutes in the cold. You smiled at him, motioning him to come into your home. 

“Hotch told me you were studying psychology” he questioned, walking into the dining room. 

“Uh… yea i am” you followed him through to the dining room, “would you like a hot chocolate?” you questioned him.

“I actually don't like hot chocolate” Spencer stated, giving a soft smile to lessen the harsh deny of your polite gesture.

“Neither do i…” you bit your bottom lip as you looked at him blushing. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Spencer smiled. 

As you added the sugars into the coffees, you heard cookie meowing from the dining room. You grasped the coffees, making your way back to spencer. To your surprise Cookie had jumped onto Spencer's knee and began kneading his leg, purring. You placed the coffees down and laughed at her kitten-like attitude for Spencer, a random stranger. Until you saw how uncomfortable Reid was. You quickly shoo’d her off of him. 

Time passed, the studying was long and quite boring . Spencer helped you create numerous flash cards to help you study and you both went through them. While studying, small talk was going on - you enjoyed getting to know Spencer. He was such an interesting person that you wished to know him more and more, deeper and deeper. 

“I have an idea, for each question on these cards i guess right you get to ask me a question?” spencer suggested

You smirked in response, it was a good trade. He got to tutor me and I got to question him.

“Okay” you grinned

The questions were basic. ‘What is your favorite part of your job?’, ‘Who is your favorite co-worker?’, ‘what is your favorite book?’. You were actually making an effort in answering these silly little cards. However, you were never asking the questions you really wanted to ask… more about his personal life. 

“What is the arousal theory?” Reid asked

“to be the physiological state of being aware, alert, awake or attentive” you spoke confidently

“Correct!” he shouted

“Okay…” you spoke slowly and playfully

you thought long and hard about what you wanted to know about Spencer, your mind immediately going to the one and only thing you were desperate to know. Although it was wildly inappropriate to ask your dad’s co-worker, you just couldn't help yourself.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you spoke mumbled and shy. 

“No.” he answered sharply, “do you- uh… have a boyfriend?” he blushed.

It was new year's eve and you were currently dressed in a silver satin dress. You felt confident but nervous as you stood beside your dad, hugging a tub of home baked cookies on the doorstep of Rossi’s house. He had invited hotch and you over to his annual new year party. You knew Spencer was going to be there hence why you dressed at your best.

Little to your fathers knowledge, you and Spence had grown closer and closer. Although you both were nothing serious. You could feel the tension between you both with every brush of your hands, sip of coffee and longing stare. You couldn't be more grateful for your weekly study sessions, you were gaining more marks on each essay and exam - all thanks to spencer. 

Walking into the party, you were engulfed in hugs from Hotch’s co-workers. Everyone was so kind. You listened to the group of friends laugh and joke. Yet, you couldn’t help but notice Spencer was missing from the large tight-knit group. You glanced around the room, in search of the man you were obsessed with. You couldn’t help but worry that he wasn't here at all. 

“I'm going to go grab a drink” you informed hotch before rushing off into the crowd. You were in search of a beverage and a smartass man who took up every inch of your thoughts. You pushed past small crowds making your way to the drinks table. Your eyes scanned the room, still no sign of Reid.

“You look beautiful Y/N” a voice whispered in your ear.

You jumped slightly at the hot breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. You smiled instantly knowing exactly who it was behind you. You quickly spun around and threw your arms around his neck, giving him the tightest hug. He smelled good and you found yourself sinking further into his arms for longer. 

“Should we get away from the crowds” you asked him, looking up at him, remembering a discussion you had about his hate for big crowds during a study session. 

He nodded and swiftly guided you through Rossi’s home and up the stairs to a bathroom. You giggled as he closed and locked the door. You loved sneaking around to have some privacy for whatever it was going on between you both. It made you feel special and giddy for the tall boy who you had grown so close to. Spencer now towered over you as he stepped closer, placing his hands on your waist and lifting you onto the giant bathroom counter. 

The room was silent but the tension was thick. You licked your lips as they went dry from anticipation for anything to happen. You stared up at him as Spencer tucked a stray strand of hair that fell in front of your face behind your ear. You have never wanted a man more and it was a lot for you to admit. You felt vulnerable under his touch and gaze. You and Spencer searched in eachothers eyes, looking for any indication in each other's stare if you both felt the same way. 

You found yourself leaning into the temptation and to him. Spencer was quick to close the gap. You both kissed passionately and slowly, enjoying the moment that had been a long time coming. You smiled as he pulled away.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long Y/N” he blushed at his confession

“I wish you didn’t wait so long Spence”

You kissed him again and felt his hand go to your neck, applying light pressure. You moaned at the contact. Slowly Spencer began to pepper kisses along your jawline. You hummed at his actions. You felt yourself grow with more need for him. Both of your breathing became heavy as your lust and want for each other grew stronger. You felt Spencer's hand trail up your thigh as his tongue played with yours in a heated make out. You pulled away and looked down as his hand grazed your clothed pussy. You were soaked for him and ready for his touch but so hesitant. You didn’t want this to be a one time thing, no matter how much you wanted this. 

“Is this okay Y/N?” Spencer questioned you concerned for the worried look you held in your expression.

“Yes Spencer p-please” you whined needy, pushing the negative thoughts away. 

Quickly Spencer pushed your panties aside, you gasped at the sudden touch of his cold fingers against your heat. He began stroking small circles on your clit causing your head to fall back from the pleasure. He bit back a smirk at the reaction you had for his touch. You whined as you felt a finger brush near your entrance.

“You have to be quiet baby” he spoke gently, shushing you before plunging his fingers into you.

You moaned in response and then Spencer clasped his spare hand over your mouth to try and muffle the reaction coming from you, not wanting your father and his boss to know what you both were getting up to in his co-workers bathroom. He kept the pumping of his fingers at a steady rhythm as his thumb massaged circles on your clit. Spencer's hot mouth went to your neck biting and sucking at the skin. It seemed your entire body was sensitive for him. Every touch, kiss, and word from him caused an elicit reaction. 

You began to ride his hand and fingers faster as you grew closer to your finish. While he sped up the thrusts of his fingers, you could hear the countdown to new year about to start. Spencer knew you were about to cum and instantly knew what he wanted from you.

“You only cum when i want you to” spencer growled his order into your ear 

 your legs and body began to shake from the overwhelming knot of pleasure in your stomach. Your body writhed and wriggled against the counter as his thumb applied pressure to your sensitive overstimulated clit. You were a mess, dripping with arousal. 

10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3…

“Hold it Y/N!” Spencer grunted

2..

“Look at you such a good girl Y/N” he praised, stroking your hair out of your face but grabbing a fistful and pulling your head back to look at him….

1…

“Cum for me!” Spencer begged as he watched you come undone from his touch.

You whined from your climax. Trying your hardest to gain the full ability of your mind as it was going wild from your overstimulation. Spencer kissed your forehead as your chest heaved up and down. You smiled letting out a light laugh.

“Happy new year Spence” you smiled into his kiss

“What a way to come into the new year Y/N”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #mgg fanfiction #mgg x reader #mgg imagine #doctor spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #david rossi #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #jason gideon #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader

[emilysslvt]

Halloweekend

Halloween was always your favorite, and even though you were a college student studying to be an FBI agent, you always loved to party. Until your professor, Emily Prentiss, saw you extremely intoxicated.

happy halloween everyone, have a good day :) i'll enjoy it being high. веселиться 🥂

warnings: swearing, smut, drinking, smoking

Halloweekend was your favorite time of the year, to dressing up slutty, going to frat parties, and drinking like you're 16 all over again. Since you started criminology, you never really did stuff like that anymore. But your best friend begged and begged until you finally gave in.

She sat on your bed, waiting for you to show her your outfit. You didn't want to go too revealing, so you wore a skirt and a cropped shirt. You went as Freddy Krueger.

You told her to open her eyes, and she clapped. "Oh, yes! Finally, something other than your boring regular clothes. We are going to have the best night tonight!" She exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes at the comment, "thank you, Max. Just what I needed tonight. My professor has assigned a lot of work, and I need to relax." Picking up your purse, you held your hand out for Max and she gratefully took it.

"Professor Prentiss again? She never gives you a break! Always on your ass and no one else's." Max huffed, as you both left your dorms and made your way across campus.

You laughed slightly, "I know. Today she yelled at me because I was on my phone, but some kid was on his too and she didn't say anything to him. It was a text from my mom, I am usually never on it."

Max shrugged, "maybe she has a crush on you." You slapped her arm, and she laughed.

"Yeah, right. She's too professional for that. But I wouldn't be opposed to it, she's so fucking fine." You admitted. You always had a small crush on her, no matter how intimidating she was. In fact, that made her so much hotter.

You and Max continued your conversation until you got to the frat party. You easily got in, as you both knew who was in the frat. Plus, they loved young hot women.

As soon as you got in there, you were handed shots. Max hit her shot glass against yours, and you both downed them. It was like that for the next 3 hours. You had lost count on how many shots you had, and how many times you lost Max. She always did that at parties, you should've known by now.

It was almost 2am, and you had classes in the morning. Once you came to the realization, you made your way out of the house. Not without stumbling, and almost dropping all of your shit. You hated walking alone, but you knew Max was definitely with some guy. You were on your own for the night.

Half way to your dorm, you needed to sit down. You were tired, and about to pass out. You sat on the grass, grabbing a cigarette from your bag. You lit it, and sat there smoking. Yes, the grass was dirty and gross but you didn't care at the time.

"Y/n? Is that you?"

You heard your name, and you opened your eyes. You looked up at the mysterious woman standing in your view, and your mouth slightly dropped.

You put your sober face on, which wasn't convincing at all. "Oh shit. Professor Prentiss!"

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing outside at 2am smoking a fucking cigarette?" She asked, bending over to get a better view of you.

"Oh, well.. you know. Regular Saturday night." Your words slurred, barely making any sense.

Your professor looked frustrated, and she sighed. "Come on. Get up." She held her hand out for you, and you took it. As she pulled you up, you stumbled and dropped your cigarette.

You were sad, looking down at it. "Aw man. I can't believe I dropped it." As you went to pick it up, you almost fell right along with your cigarette. Your professor immediately grabbed your waist, holding you in place.

She sighed, holding you up. "How much did you fucking drink? Where is your dorm? And why are you walking by yourself? That's dangerous, and you out of all these students should know that." Your professor said, wrapping your arm around her shoulder.

"Hahaha I don't really know where my dorm is. And my friend is definitely being fucked by a frat guy right now." You said, giggling to yourself. You barely made any sense, but to yourself it made sense. Well, barely.

"How do you not kn- you know what? You'll stay at my house until you're sober." Your professors tone was off, she sounded pissed. But at the same time, you were too drunk to notice. Or care.

The rest of the night was a blur, you fell asleep on your professors bed but you couldn't remember that. You woke up the next morning, cursing at yourself from how bad your hangover was.

Once your eyes were able to open, you realized you weren't in your dorm. You started to panick, thinking the worst. Up until your professor walked in with a cup in her hand.

She made her way towards you, placing the cup in front of you. "Thought you might need this." You smiled, taking it from her and immediately drinking it. The warm feeling hitting your lips made you feel like a winter day when you had a snow day.

Your professor sat next to you, watching you closely. "Do you remember anything from last night?" You placed the cup on the nightstand next to her bed, as you tried to recollect your thoughts.

You shrugged, deciding to be honest. "I remember before the party. Half hour at the party. That's about it. I think I blacked out immediately. Max told me I needed to blow off some steam, and so I kept taking shot after shot."

She sighed, running her tongue along her lip as she pulled her lip between her teeth. Your eyes watched her tongue, as you always thought that was extremely hot.

"I found you outside around 2am, you were in the grass smoking a cigarette. You couldn't remember where your dorm was. I hope you know that was extremely dangerous, and there are other ways to blow off steam rather than drinking yourself to death." She went on. You knew she was right, and hearing what you did was a tad embarrassing. Now she knew you smoked, and that you were an idiot for forgetting your dorm room.

"And how do you blow off steam, professor?" You asked, tilting your head. She smirked, shaking her head. She avoided the question, and she stood up.

Your professor stood rather close to you, and you watched her eyes quickly dart from your chest back up to your eyes. "You have class in 45 minutes, would you like to go back to your dorm to get ready?"

"I asked you a question, professor. How do you blow off steam?" You were curious as to why she avoided the question. Plus, you didn't want to leave. The way she made you feel like a teenage girl every time her eye lingered your body, or the way she talked in a low tone.

She took a moment to think. Her lips parted, but no words came out. You watched the smirk form on her lips, "would you like me to show you?" You bit your lip nervously, watching as she leaned over you. You felt her breath on your neck, making you lean your head back a bit.

She grew impatient, waiting for your response. "You need to learn your lesson from last night, don't you think?" She whispered in your ear, as she bit the tip of your ear, sending chills down your spine.

You never wanted something so bad. Scratch that. Needed. "Yes, professor."

Her smirk grew, pushing you against her bed. You propped yourself up by your elbows, as she straddled your lap. "Perhaps you need to be punished?"

"I didn't do anything that bad to be punished, professor." You stated. You knew you did, but arguing with an older woman was always fun. And hot.

She leaned down, pressing her lips to your neck as her hand dragged down your body. "No? So getting drunk to forget your problems wasn't bad, hm?" Her lips grazed your neck, as she got closer to your lips. "Or walking by yourself at 2am? Becoming a profiler, you should know better than that." The gap between your lips was killing you. She was so close, but so far.

Her hand slipped under your cropped shirt, her finger grazed the bottom of your bra making you crave her touch even more. "Please touch me.."

With her free hand, she drew the outline of your jaw with her finger. "Do you think you deserve it?"

At this point? Yes. It was torture. The way she slightly touched you, turning you on by barely even touching you. "No.. but I need you." Your words came out in a whisper, but she was happy with the answer.

Your professor ran her hand along your neck, pushing your head to the side. "Tell me how bad you need me."

You were impatient, you needed her now. "Please touch me, professor. I need you. I crave your touch." You sounded pathetic, but professor Prentiss seemed to like it.

"Good girl." Her hand kept a grip on your neck as she slammed her lips against yours, her knee pushed your legs apart as she pressed it against where you needed her most. The kiss was filled with desperation and lust, the way she bit your bottom lip, how it felt so wrong but yet so right.

Her knee pushing against you made you softly moan against her lips, and you felt her smirk. You loved it when she did that. As she pulled away, she bit your bottom lip. You whined at the loss of contact, but her lips soon found your neck. Your hands found her hair as she sucked on your soft skin, leaving a hickey.

Her hand wandered down your stomach, until it found your the hem of your skirt. She slid her hand into your skirt, and she circled your clothed clit, as she lifted her head to whisper in your ear. "Can I touch you?"

"Yes. Please, touch me. Please."

"Needy, are we?" Her tone was low, filled with lust and dominance. You were so turned on, you needed her so fucking bad. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt her fingertips cirling your clit. Her pace was slow, painfully slow. You were so desperate and needy even though her lips were on your neck, and her fingers were on your clit.

Emily lifted her head, "take your shirt off." As she was still keeping her slow pace, you slightly lifted yourself up, pulling your shirt off. Her eyes immediately found your breasts, and with her free hand she unclipped it, letting it fall to the side of her bed.

Her pace sped up as she slightly leaned over, circling your nipple with her tongue before pulling it between her teeth. Soft moans left your mouth as she sucked on your nipple, and her fingers were working your clit. You never felt so good before, and it felt even better just by being fucked by your professor.

Your head fell fell backwards into the pillows as she slid one of her fingers inside of you, making you moan her name softly. Emily bit your nipple before she moved onto your next one, while she slid another finger inside of you. Her hand hit your clit, making you moan louder. Emily loved the sound that left your mouth, and she pushed her fingers deeper into you, hitting your g-spot.

You felt your orgasm approaching, feeling the familiar knot form in your stomach. "Oh, fuck.. I'm going to cum." The words came out in a stutter, as you had barely any thoughts. There was no response from the older women, she just fucked you deeper and faster. Moans and curse words left your mouth, you were so fucking close. Your back arched as you were on the edge of your orgasm, her hand brushing against your clit, her mouth sucking on your nipples, and her fingers so deep inside of you. You were about to cum, but Emily immediately stopped. She removed her fingers from inside of you, and she stopped sucking on your breasts as she looked up at you.

Your professor had her fingers in her mouth. She looked so fucking hot, but you were pissed. You needed that orgasm, and she just stopped.

She sucked her fingers clean, waiting for you to catch your breath. "That should teach you to behave, hm? Maybe next time I'll let you cum. As for now, we have class in ten." Her lips formed a smirk, as she leaned down, placing a kiss on your lips. You were mad at her, but her lips were so fucking soft.

As she pulled back, she bit your lip. "There's no time to go back to your dorm, so take a quick shower and meet me in class. Wear my clothes, because if you show up to class like that I'll have to punish you again."

You nodded, and she smiled. She placed a soft kiss on your forehead, and she got up. "After class, I'll be able to take care of you properly. I'll make it up to you, okay?" Her tone was soft, and it made you want her even more.

It was safe to say that wasn't a one time thing. Both of you enjoyed that too much. Maybe it was because it was wrong, but even then it felt right.

#criminal minds #paget brewster #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #emily x reader #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss #lqbtq #smut #fan fiction #fanfic #fantasy #halloweekend #professor and student #maybe part 2?

[grandeoatmilklatte]

Fire in the Frat House (Modern College AU Ominis Gaunt x F!MC) 🔥

Another mood board challenge from my wonderful friend @ellivenollivander . She sent me another mood board to base a fic off of, with this one being Ominis themed. So I decided to revisit my modern college AU Frat boy Ominis.

Tagging @little-emerald-snake cause you were excited when I posted the snippet to this one! Apologies it's not hella spicy but I have some spicy Ominis on the way!

Warnings: Mostly fluff, but with a brief moment of dry hump!ng || characters are in college and over 18.

Word Count: 1.9k

The girl groaned as the webpage loaded, displaying a measly 70% on the essay she had submitted last week, the one that had taken her hours of research to complete. 3 months into it, and her first semester wasn’t turning out to be the fun experience she thought it was going to be. Granted, she knew there was more to college than parties, but she also didn’t think her classes would be this difficult, especially having done so well in high school. 

Right now, there were only two things bringing her joy in her freshman life. The first thing being her Sorority - her sisters being some of the best people she had met in her time in college so far. Although the Sorority president, Imelda Reyes, absolutely hated her, she mostly left her alone. The second thing was her relationship with sophomore, popular boy, and campus Fraternity’s president - Ominis Gaunt. 

On the surface, Ominis seemed like the most stereotypical hot, rich, Frat boy - His family donated tons of money to the university over the years, and were friends with the Dean’s family. All of the male Gaunts had attended the school, and they all served as Fraternity president the entire time they were in attendance. Everyone respected Ominis and his social status. Nobody dared to cross him, or even think about making fun of his blindness, which he had since birth. All the boys wanted to be his friend, and all the girls wanted to be his girlfriend (hence Imelda’s hatred). 

Being Ominis Gaunt came with a lot of power, and being Ominis Gaunt’s girlfriend came with a power of its own. She met him on a Friday after her first week, was in his bed by Saturday, and was in the Sorority by Monday. There was no bullying or freshman hazing for her with Ominis on her arm.

Despite the quickness at which their relationship developed, they were very happy. Ominis was an amazing boyfriend - never afraid to show her off, and being supportive during her first semester of college. Of course there were some things he could not prepare her for, and this crappy grade was one of those things. The girl slammed her laptop shut, grabbed her jacket, and left the Sorority house. 

She walked the short distance from the Sorority house to the Frat house, where she let herself inside with her key; another perk of being Ominis Gaunt’s girlfriend. As she passed the kitchen, she found Garreth Weasley, her friend from high school, raiding the fridge. 

She shot Garreth a smile before she made her way upstairs to Ominis’s room, which she found empty. She knew he had a big exam today, so this wasn’t surprising. Between this exam and her essay, the couple had barely seen each other the past few days. She tossed herself on his bed, which was dressed with emerald green satin sheets, and waited, eventually dozing off. 

She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep for, but she was violently awoken when she heard the sound of Ominis’s room door slamming shut. She sat up to see her boyfriend tossing his school bag on the floor in frustration. 

“Babe, are you okay?” 

Ominis looked up in the direction of her voice, seemingly having not noticed she was there. “Oh, darling! I didn’t realize you were here. I…I didn’t do so great on that exam.” There was sadness in his voice. Despite Ominis’s status, he was incredibly smart and took his studies very seriously, so not doing well on an exam was not easy for him.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry!” She threw her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t do well on my essay either. Why don’t we do something fun tonight, to get our minds off our terrible day!”

Ominis pulled back, a smile now gracing his beautiful face. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, my dear! Let me take a shower and then we can plan our evening.”

She looked on as Ominis began to strip down, fighting the urge to pounce on him right then and there. Her eyes studied his body as he undressed - his toned arms, fit stomach, the trail of dark blonde hair below his belly button, lower. 

She shook her head to pull herself out of her inappropriate thoughts, grateful that he couldn’t see the way she was ogling him as he wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the room. Not wanting to wait around in his bedroom, she headed downstairs, where she found Garreth in the common area, devouring a bowl of pasta. 

“Is everything alright? I saw Gaunt seemed pretty upset when he got here.” he asked with a mouth full of food. 

She rolled her eyes at Garreth’s terrible manners, and went on to explain the horrible day they both had. As she spoke, Garreth continued to eat his spaghetti, and it gave her an idea. 

“That really sucks!” Garreth said through another mouthful of food. “A few of us guys are going to the movies tonight, and then we’re going to get some beers. I know Ominis can’t actually see the movie, but he likes to listen to them. You’re welcome to tag along!”

“Thanks for the offer, Weasley but we’ll pass. We have plans tonight anyway!”

“Well, make sure nobody catches you here after 10. You know you’re not allowed to be here after 10!” Garreth said the last bit in a mocking tone while she laughed, knowing full well that Ominis never followed that rule. 

When she made her way back upstairs, she found Ominis getting dressed. She once again ogled him as he put on a satin black button-down, which he paired with black skinny jeans. He paused for a moment before chuckling. 

“You know, I can feel you staring at me again.”

She let out a bashful laugh. “Sorry baby, I can’t help it, you’re just so pretty to look at.”

Ominis smiled. “Heard that a few of the guys were going out to a movie. Figured we could go and then I can take you to dinner afterwards.”

“Actually, I thought maybe we could stay in. We’ve got the entire house to ourselves after all! I thought I could cook us some dinner!”

She didn’t have much skill when it came to cooking, the roles of house chefs belonging to Garreth and a girl named Poppy in her house, but she was eager to do something fun for Ominis, and she hoped it would take both their minds off their bad day. 

“Oh darling, that would be lovely!”

–

It was not lovely. Twenty minutes in and she had already shattered a bowl, dropped raw chicken on the floor, and spilled pasta sauce on herself. Despite the chaos she declined help, Ominis having shouted “Darling, are you alright? Do you need any help?” three times in the short time she had been in the kitchen. 

Her luck began to turn around, or so she thought, when she successfully had two chicken breasts cooking nicely on the stove. She then turned her attention to a pot she had filled with water that was starting to boil. She grabbed a handful of spaghetti, not bothering to measure if it was an appropriate amount for two people, and tossed it into the water. Figuring she had some time before she’d need to return to her pasta, she headed over to the common area to find Ominis on the couch. 

“How’s it going, my beautiful chef?” 

“It’s FINALLY going alright!” she giggled as she straddled his lap, her arms coming up around his neck. 

“I’m so glad. I can’t wait to taste what you’ve got cooking for us!” Ominis placed his arms on her back, pulling her against his chest as his lips found hers. Their tongues danced, and after a few seconds, her hips started moving, grinding against his lap. She began to moan softly against his lips as Ominis’s hands shot up her skirt, taking hold of her ass. He guided her as she grinded her center against the growing bulge in his pants. 

Her hands moved from Ominis’s neck to his chest as she began to open the buttons on his shirt when he abruptly pulled away from her lips, sniffing the air around him. “Darling, do you smell that? It smells like - “

“Oh shit!” She shouted as she jumped off of her boyfriend’s lap, running to the kitchen. The fire alarm began to blare as she was met with the sight of her dry spaghetti on fire. She began to panic, frantically opening cabinets until she found the pot’s lid, slamming the lid on to the pot, forcing the flames to smother. It took the pair several minutes to free the room of smoke, the girl bursting into tears once they had finished. 

“I’m so sorry Ominis! I just wanted to do something nice for us after the horrible day we had. I’m so sorry I ruined dinner and made things worse!”

Ominis planted a kiss on her forehead before pulling his sobbing girlfriend into his arms. “Nonsense darling, the effort alone was more than enough. No matter how bad my day is, once I’m with you, it all fades away. I love you, sweetheart! It’s okay! I promise. We can always order a pizza.”

“I feel the same way. You make even the worst days amazing.” She sniffled. “I love you, Ominis.”

–

One hour and one pizza pie later, the couple was snuggled on the couch watching tv. Drowsiness began to overtake the girl, as she let out a yawn. 

“Do you mind if I hop in your shower? I’m getting sleepy.”

“Of course. Just give me a moment!” 

Without another word, Ominis walked off, walking stick in hand, leaving her on the couch. She thought nothing of it, figuring he just wanted to use the bathroom, or perhaps clean it up before she went in; that is until she heard Ominis calling her name from the bathroom upstairs.

She pulled open the bathroom door to find a bubble bath waiting for her, the smell of lavender and roses wafting through the air, and Ominis already in the tub. 

“Ominis!” she exclaimed, the sweet gesture almost making her cry.

“Get in darling, before the water gets cold! And before the rest of the guys get back.”

She was about to undress when she was hit with another, less dangerous idea than her last one. She left the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a bottle of wine and a carton of strawberries. 

The couple soaked in their bath, playing with the bubbles, drinking the wine straight from the bottle, and feeding each other strawberries. As Ominis began to massage shampoo into his girlfriend’s scalp, she reminisced about the terrible day she had, and how it turned around so quickly thanks to Ominis. She was so grateful for him and she found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with him with each passing day. Ominis felt the same, wondering to himself what he would do without her in his life. He loved her more than anything else in the world.

They finished in the bath just in time to hear the sound of the boys returning home. Not wanting to hear their complaints of “why are you allowed to have a girl here after hours and we can’t?”, Ominis quickly brought her back to his bedroom, where they got ready to call it a night. 

After changing into one of his oversized shirts and nothing else, she joined him in bed, nuzzling into him as he wrapped his arms around her. As they snuggled, Ominis forgot about the exam he failed, and she forgot about the paper she bombed. They both just focused on each other’s breathing until they drifted off to sleep. 

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt smut #ominis gaunt au #ominis gaunt fluff

[smoshyourheadin]

yay!!!!!! mother is back!!!!!!

could i request a spencer agnew x reader where they meet at a bar and spencer ends up taking the reader home and it ends however you want

Butterflies That Flutter By

pairing: spencer agnew x f!reader

a/n: I. LOVE. THIS. anon u cooked w this. i went CRAZAAAAY!! two posts in one night who am i!! also sorry if u wanted smut i don’t feel comfortable writing it for real ppl!! charachters i can consider it tho ;)

warnings: if u don’t like mentions of alcohol or just a bar setting then this probably isn’t for u!! i’m sure ill catch you at another time tho <3

requests r open <33

saturdays are when you thrive. going out with all your college friends was just tradition at this point.

sitting at the bar in between anna and courtney, you complain about another failed date you had recently.

“ugh, he was just the worst! he was talking about his podcast the whole time, and then asked me to go back to his place? what do men expect me to say after that. ‘oh yes you talking about your alpha male, gym, i hate women podcast really made me so attracted to you’ like come on!” you turn to anna who’s laughing at you, with a sad stare, and she then is quick to put a hand on your shoulder.

“it’s okay! im sure you’ll find your man soon. isn’t court trying to set you up with that guy from her work?” she says to you, cocking her head to the side slightly.

courtney then chimes in, “yes! oh my gosh, her and spencer are literally perfect for each other! you need to meet him soon, you’ll love him!” she says with a wide smile.

“i mean, he is pretty cute…” you trail off.

courtney had been trying to set you and her friend spencer up for weeks now, and as she continued to gush about how spencer would appreciate your nerdiness and how you would adore his, you feel a tug of curiosity. ignoring the conversation for a moment, you make your way to the old street fighter arcade machine at the end of the bar. the familiar sounds of the game fill your ears as you slip a coin into the slot, your fingers itching to take control of your favorite character - ryu.

as you focus on the game, your mind drifts to the idea of meeting spencer. would he really be as perfect for you as courtney says? The thought lingers in your mind a bit as you unleash a flurry of moves on the joystick, losing yourself in the focus.

as you're deeply engrossed in the game, spencer enters the bar, scanning the room for courtney. spotting her animatedly chatting with anna, he makes his way over, a small smile playing on his lips. courtney notices him approaching and waves him over eagerly.

"hey, spencer! glad you could make it," she greets him with enthusiasm, nudging anna to make space for him between them.

"hey, court, thanks for inviting me!" spencer replies, returning her smile. his eyes then wander around the bar, landing on you as you fiercely battle your way through the arcade game.

courtney follows his gaze and grins mischievously. "oh, hey, look who's here! it's the girl i've been telling you about," she says, motioning towards you.

spencer's interest piques, and he watches you play for a moment, impressed by your technique. he can't help but notice how focused you are, your determination evident in every move you make. with a newfound curiosity, he watches in awe as you skillfully defeat everyone you fight with ease.

“hey…” you whip your head around and stand up straight from your practically bent over pose, as you hear courtney’s voice from behind you.

there, stood next to her, is possibly the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

he’s got beautiful brown eyes, and dark curly hair. with glasses. oh my. he’s dressed in slacks, tattered old vans, a flannel, and an old work jacket.

“um, hi court.” is all you can muster up to say to her.

“this is spencer, spencer this is the woman of your dreams!” she giggles.

spencer glares at her, but then smiles sincerely at you.

“so, street fighter, huh? you've got some serious skills," spencer remarked, impressed by your gameplay.

you glanced over at him, offering a small smile in return. "thanks! it's one of my favorite games. i've been playing since i was a kid. i think it’s one of the main reasons i decided to be a game developer."

courtney takes this opportunity to slip away from you both, leaving you to geek out together, and she rushes over to anna

“i told you! twenty bucks says they leave together!” she grins.

“you are so on!” anna replies.

across the bar, you and spencer are chatting it up, both leant against the wall near the machine.

spencer takes a sip of his drink before leaning in. "so, who's your main in street fighter?"

you grin, a rush of excitement at the chance to talk about your favorite character. "call me basic, but definitely ryu! i love his playstyle, and his hadoukens! they’re pretty gnarly."

"classic choice," spencer replied with a nod of approval. "i’m more of a ken guy myself. gotta respect the fiery spirit, you know?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. "yeah, ken's cool. those shoryukens can really mess up the game though.”

he smiles at your reply, and the conversation flows on. you find yourself talking to him for the better part of an hour, eventually sitting at the bar with him.

“um, you don’t have to say yes,” he says, turning to you. “but, would you want to come back to my place?”

you smile at him, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear “i’d like that.”

and so, you find yourself walking back to spencer’s apartment and talking to him about how much you love zelda.

stepping into his apartment, you’re immediately greeted by an array of nerdy decorations that cover every corner. posters of classic video game characters lined the walls, and shelves filled with action figures and memorabilia from various fandoms.

"wow, you have quite the collection!" you exclaimed, taking in the sight with wide eyes.

spencer chuckles nervously with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head. "yeah, i might have gone a little overboard."

but to you, it’s like stepping into a treasure trove of nostalgia, and honestly? you were jealous. you eagerly made your way around the room, pointing out your favorite pieces and telling him about the games and shows you loved most.

"that's a limited edition link figurine, right?" you ask, pointing to a display on one of the shelves.

spencer nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. "yeah, it's one of my prized possessions! i also have a few special edition zelda figures."

as you continue to explore, spencer watches you with a mixture of awe and admiration. he had never met someone who shared his passion for all things nerdy quite like you did. It felt surreal to have someone in his space who not only appreciated but genuinely enjoyed his interests.

before long, the initial awkwardness of the invitation fades away, replaced by a comfortable ease as you bond over your shared love for video games, movies, and everything in between.

the night continues, and you end up making him watch your favourite film - perfect blue, which you watch in comfortable silence.

as the credits roll, you stretch out comfortably on spencer's couch, feeling the pleasant weight of sleep pulling at your eyelids. the movie is intense, and you’re exhausted from the day's excitement.

spencer glances over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he noticed your drooping eyelids. he gently reached for the remote and turned off the playstation you were using to watch it, casting the room into a soothing darkness.

"you tired?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

you nod sleepily, snuggling into the cushions. "yeah, it's been a long day. sorry for almost falling asleep on you."

spencer chuckles softly, shaking his head. "don't apologize. it's actually kind of nice having someone to watch movies with, even if they fall asleep halfway through."

you smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. despite only meeting him tonight, you already feel a sense of comfort in his presence.

with a contented sigh, you let yourself drift off, the steady rhythm of spencer's heartbeat beneath you lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

later that night, as you sleep soundly against him, spencer can’t resist taking a picture of you, your peaceful expression illuminated by the soft glow of the tv’s ‘no signal’ screen. he texts it to courtney with a simple message: "she isn't too bad."

as he presses send, a smile tuggs at the corners of his lips.

courtney opens the message to see your face, her jaw dropping. she closes the messages from spencer, and immediatley texts anna,

‘u owe me 20 ;)’

#smoshyourheadin #amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #arasha lalani #courtney miller #shayne topp #spencer agnew #smosh #spencer agnew x reader #i love this #slayed

[shirakow]

˗ˏˋ꒰ summary ꒱ ; he wanted to practice kissing with you .

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍇 pair ⋅ ˚✮ ; Rody Lamoree x GN!reader . College AU pre dp

. . . words ; 1.2k+

WARNINGS ! semi-nsfw, like one mention of addiction, whiney rody, and also no genitals or gendered terms used !

⁺ ⛧ ; i made this instead of continuing to make my reviewer for like 5 tests tomorrow. Someone wish me luck and maybe I'll pop out another vincent x reader by saturday ^3^ love you guys endlessly . Also made this while listening to the an evening with silk sonic album. Def worked for motivation

"Please?" Rody begged on his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading you for help as he clasped his hands together in a praying manner like you were his God.

You could only sigh and shake your head, "Fine. I'll practice kissing you." You murmured a bit shyly. Despite being incredibly against the idea —not that you would mind—you were just nervous because Rody was literally asking you to kiss him.

Actually, the term he used was make out but that's too embarrassing to think about.

It hit you in the wrong way because you were best friends, that's all you've ever thought of him. Sure you were glad he was comfortable enough to ask you for tips on this, but hands on teaching? Consider yourself fucked!

Perhaps there were lingering feelings in the back of your head that you never paid any mind to as you were never this nervous for a damn kiss.

Rody's eyes immediately lit up at the agreement, even if a bit hesitant. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he tackled you into a hug, pushing you down on the couch with his full weight flush against yours.

You smacked the back of his head multiple times to get him off before he could crush you, which he did thankfully. The two of you sat faced to face, the way Rody twiddled with his fingers did not go unnoticed by your keen eyes.

"If you're nervous, you could just back out now while we still haven't done anything." Who were you kidding? By the looks of it you were even more nervous than him! By the way your feet couldn't help but bounce itself on the ground whilst you anxiously waited for his answer.

"I'm not nervous! I'm just embarrassed..."

"Same thing you nut job." You quipped with a sigh.

"Just, come on." If he wasn't gonna initiate it, then you'll do it. You could tell how much this meant to Rody, or else he wouldn't have asked you in the first place.

Because if there was one thing that Rody hated in the world aside from cleaning: it was to burden others. Besides, he's done so much for you in the past, it's only right you pay him back even if with a mere peck on the lips.

You scooted closer to Rody, your knees brushing against one another as you placed your hands on his chest. He looked down at you with his blush growing more prominent, yet you only did nothing but stare at him. "W-What're you looking at?" The almighty Rody Lamoree stuttered.

"Backing out?" You teased with a small chuckle. A grumbled curse erupted from his throat and before you knew it, his lips were against yours.

Well that was surprising.

They were soft, tentative, and more importantly: incredibly gentle. It was like he was trying to learn for his own gain but prioritizing your comfort at the same time, which was quite lovely if you do say so yourself.

Your hands on his chest moved up to caress his jaw, then his neck, then his cheek, and finally his hair which earned an unexpected whine from Rody. You fought back a smile that threatened to form on your face at the sound, and he could easily tell as your lips were connected after all.

Rody mumbled a quiet 'shut up' that was immediately drowned out when he kissed you deeper. But you noticed it was too sloppy. This caused you to pull away slightly, leaving only an inch between your lips that Rody fought to keep closed by the way he chased after you.

You put a finger against his plush lips which in turn earned another whine from the male in front of you. "Calm down big guy... Don't rush, or else you'll chase away the person you're pining for." You whispered breathlessly, and Rody pursed his bottom lip out like a pleading dog.

"I'll... I'll try..." He grumbled as you put your hand back down to his shoulder. Rody pressed his lips against yours once more, starting off slow, and gradually growing deeper like you instructed him to.

He grazed his teeth against your bottom lip, the feeling making your breath hitch. Noticing your reaction, Rody decided to tread the waters and gently bit your lip, before pulling on it while maintaining hazy eye contact.

"Sorry... Just wanted you to open your eyes and look at me while I kiss you..." Rody said in a raspy voice as his blush deepened. You hadn't even noticed that you closed your eyes, you were too busy feeling him to feel your own sight go away for just a split second.

He was starting to get the hang of it, that's for sure.

Rody's calloused hands finally found somewhere to put themselves on and that being your hips, which he then pulled onto his lap as he leaned back on the couch; his thumbs gently caressing and rubbing circles under your shirt.

You just let him do what he want, this was all just for practice anyway, right?

"Can I..." Rody trailed off as he pulled away, his face flush and mouth agape—gasping for breath. You could only imagine what you looked like right now if he was this disheveled already. "... Can I french kiss you?" Rody bit his bottom lip as he thumbed at yours.

"Wouldn't this already be considered a french kiss?" You chuckled at your pun.

Rody rolled his eyes and let out a breath that you could only guess resembled a laugh. "Yes or no is all I wanna hear... Please?" He quietly begged you, staring up at you with his pretty green eyes that were lidded from all the kissing.

"That's all you wanna hear?" Another groan from him. "You're insufferable..." He used his hand to part your lips as he stuck the tip of his tongue out, before suddenly pulling you down and shoved his tongue inside your mouth.

It made you gasp against his lips, but you leaned into it invitingly. You placed your hands on his shoulders for support as he explored every inch of you.

For someone claiming he hasn't made out with someone for the duration of his entire life: this sure didn't feel like it. Your fingers threaded through his hair and grabbed a fistful of his dirty orange locks, making him moan into the kiss, albeit a bit too loudly.

Rody made you grind against him, his hands gripping onto your hips for dear life. "Mmmm...~ feel good... keep going... please..." He whispered as he pulled away for air, before pulling you back down for another round of tongue kissing.

It was messy, but you started not to care a few minutes ago. You were completely drunk on Rody's taste, and by the looks of it—he was already long gone. "Y-You'll help me out, right?" Rody panted while throwing his head back, helping you grind on his groin.

"P-Pretty please?"

And who were you to decline such a pretty face begging for more?

Safe to say the day after that was far from normal, because now he's completely addicted to kissing you.

© shirakow . reblogs and reposts are greatly appreciated <3 .

#rody lamoree #rody lamoree x reader #dead plate #dead plate rody #dead plate rody lamoree #x reader #dead plate x reader #gender neutral #rody lamoree x you #rody lamoree x male reader #rody lamoree x fem reader #rody x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #x male reader #x fem reader #. . . 𝘀𝗵𝗶.𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 ?

[so-mordor-itis]

Going Once, Going Twice

For @munsons-maiden. I know you were having a rough week, so I made this for you <3 I hope you enjoy it!

A/N: aka…the four times Eddie wanted to stop everything and kiss you, and the one time he actually could.

–

i.

He wanted to kiss you the moment you fell asleep on his shoulder. Eddie had been watching your eyelids droop for ten minutes, a playful smile on his lips. He teased you, stating you really should go home where you can sleep on an actual bed–instead of his trashy trailer. You shook your head in protest, saying you were fine and you didn't need to leave yet. ("We haven't finished the movie!")

Eddie shook his head. "Suit yourself, but if I see you're asleep I'm driving–"

He interrupted himself as he felt a sudden weight land on his shoulder. His heart nearly exploded. You fell asleep so easily, put so much trust in his hands. It took everything in him to restrain himself from kissing your forehead and scooting you closer.

"Not sleepy, huh?" He mumbled, palm underneath his chin. Eddie could feel how warm his cheeks were, and he surprisingly didn't hate it. "Bullshit."

(He woke you up after the movie was over, teasing you endlessly about how you were sleepy. You rolled your eyes, a small smile creeping from your lips.

He was doomed.)

ii.

He felt the urge to grab your face and kiss you when you offered to paint models for Hellfire.

Eddie found himself swamped with too much: Corroded Coffin was booked for three days at a local bar–something he and the guys were looking forward to–and had forgotten about the new figurines Dustin brought in. When Dustin reminded him of the small models, Eddie's heart sank.

"Promise me you'll paint them soon?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Was gonna use them in the one-shot next week, I got big plans." Dustin showed Eddie a grin before heading out the door.

Eddie cannot say no to Dustin Henderson. He just can't.

Eddie groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "I know I'm going to forget. I know my stupid ass, I'll get so into the gig and pass out and then have to last minute paint the damn–"

"I can paint them for you, Ed." You offered, "I'm not an artist, but I'm pretty sure I can paint small figurines."

Eddie beamed at you, heart starting to pound. Oh he could kiss you right then and there, not caring if Garreth walked in. "Really?"

"Yeah, just tell me how to paint them."

"You are a literal life saver."

"Now I wouldn't go that far," you chastised, "You just can't plan for shit."

That started a mini argument, but ultimately you did have a point. (Eddie hated it when you were right, because you were most of the damn time and he wanted to be right for once.)

iii.

Eddie found himself wanting to kiss you after you came to one of Corroded Coffin's gigs. He didn't expect you to come, with your busy schedule working and going to a local college an hour away from Hawkins, he was literally preparing for a rejection. Even begged himself not to get his hopes up.

Instead, he got, "Oh hell yeah, I have a day off that Saturday." You even flashed him one of your famous grins. (That alone made him want to kiss you–check that off the long list.)

The gig itself wasn't big, only a few people including you were in the audience, but that didn't affect Eddie in the slightest. He wasn't really playing for anyone else but you that night, and he wanted to believe you somewhat received that message. You had a fond look in your eye watching him play the guitar, as you always did.

Later on that night, you complimented his skill again, and his heart soared.

"You've always played the guitar well, I think it's your calling." You smiled at him again.

(Please, please let me kiss you. Eddie hoped to God above you didn't notice how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel.)

iiii.

He had an opportunity to kiss you on his birthday, when you came to his trailer at nearly midnight–work uniform ruffled and face covered with sweat. He was in the Hellfire shirt and sweatpants, pure confusion on his face.

"What the hell, it's nearly–" he went to check his watch on his nightstand. "It's nearly midnight, what are you doing here?" Eddie's tone became more quick and panicked, a tic he had when he became worried.

"Nothing urgent," you said, grinning with embarrassment. "Your birthday is almost over and I didn't want to be an asshole and miss it."

Eddie sighed, but offered you inside the trailer anyway. Wayne was at work; night shift snagged him, he had an apologetic look on his face when he told Eddie. Eddie understood, they needed the money.

"You're all sweaty," Eddie pointed out, "Wait, you didn't walk all the way here did you?"

"No," you said exasperatedly. "I'm just sweaty because they make us wear this hot uniform for 7 hours."

"Fair enough."

"Here," you tossed him a rectangular shaped gift wrapped with shiny wrapping paper. "Didn't manage to get a bow, but it'll do."

"Fancy," Eddie said, wiggling his eyebrows, "You even got the shiny blue paper."

"Just open it, dork." You gave him a tired look, but smiled nonetheless.

He didn't mean to tear the paper so fast, the excitement got to him. The gift's title screamed at him the moment he could see it: The Simarillion.

"Oh shit," he mumbled.

"Yeah, I remembered you said you wanted to read it but couldn't get it so…"

Eddie put the book down on the counter, ran a hand through his hair, and gestured at you to hug him. You obliged instantly.

The hug lasted longer than it needed to, but neither of you cared. Or at least, he figured you didn't.

Because you didn't let him go when he tried to.

Not that he minded.

iiii.5

(It didn't help that, sometimes, for a split second, you'd look at him with knowing eyes. Like you knew he wanted to kiss you, and you'd let him.)

v.

You let him this time.

He tried, really tried to hold himself back, but he couldn't. Not this time. Not when your lips shined, telling him you put chapstick on, not when you gazed deep into his eyes, curiosity brewing. Not when you whispered his name as if you were in a trance.

He brushed his lips against yours, experimenting. Eddie observed your reaction, waiting to see what you'd do. He pulled back a little, seeing your eyes widen.

"Sorry, I…" He trailed off.

"No you're not," you said, now beaming after getting a chance to register what happened. "Kiss me for real this time, Munson."

You tugged at the collar of his shirt, and his lips clashed with yours. You giggled, prompting him to deepen the kiss; the warmth inside his chest spread to his toes.

You're right, he wasn't.

~

|Tags:|

@corrodedcoffeen , @ghosttownwherenoonegoes , @fleurdreams , @gonuclear , @ghoularaki , @eddiesquinn , @moonlighting87 , @emotionaldreamer

#stranger things season 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagines #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x gn!reader #my writing

[bookshelf-dust]

I'M HERE TO REQUEST AGAIN<33

could you write a fic where reader (established relationship with Gareth) is at the Hideout to listen to the band and a guy starts hitting on them? and Gareth gets jealous (not in a toxic way though). thank you<3

saturday’s at the hideout

gareth emerson x gn!reader

word count: 1,125

warnings: swearing, gareth has insecurities, flirting, fluff

a/n: hi pal!! thank you for requesting!!! i hope this turned out okay. i’m feeling iffy about it. i also may have made gareth a little grumpy because i like gareth the grump. enjoy!! <333

————

You bounce your leg where it rests on one of the supports underneath your chair. You feel yourself get slightly more nervous as people file in.

It’s not nearly this crowded on Tuesday’s, but it’s a Saturday night, and it seems everyone and their mom has decided to come to the Hideout tonight.

They don’t usually play on Saturday’s, but recently they’ve been asked to play more often, which Gareth may or may not have jumped up and down about.

You find yourself getting nervous because the more people there are, the better the chance of an increased creep population there is.

The boys have been on stage for awhile, and their set is almost up.

Gareth catches your eye during a few seconds when he’s not playing, one hand on a cymbal to quiet it, the other doing that obnoxious twirl of his drumstick that you pretend to hate.

He raises his eyebrows at you. A silent, you okay?

You nod, and there’s a split second where his eyes dart somewhere behind you before he starts playing again.

The table you’re sitting at is small and seats two, the kind where the chairs face each other. The kind for couples on dates.

Someone moves to stand in front of you, and you think they’re going to take the other chair for themselves, for a bigger party, but they drag it to the spot next to you.

You turn your head, utterly confused at this guy’s appearance. You go to say something that will make them fuck off, but you realize you know the guy. Michael, you think, remembering his name.

You went to high school with him, and you were lab partners with him for what felt like forever then.

While that calms your fear of it being some perv, in school this guy wasn’t exactly someone you would’ve liked to be best friends with. He was the kind of guy you could put up with as a lab partner, but not in any other situation. The person you put up with because you had to. Frankly because he was a douche.

“Holy shit,” you say, sitting up and trying your best to be sweet.

“Hey! I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he tells you.

“Me either.” You set your hands in your lap, twisting around a ring Gareth gave you.

“It’s just been so long! I thought I’d see what you were up to these days. I won’t keep you long though, I promise.” He offers a sweet grin.

You look away for a second, glancing at Eddie. This is one of his favorite songs to perform and you love to watch him. He’s electric up there, thriving off of the energy from the crowd—way more than five drunks tonight.

“Not much,” you tell Michael. “College. This.”

You smile easily, and he seems to find something in it.

“You know someone in the band?” His voice is kind, curious. You think that maybe he’s turned around some post-high school.

You lift your hand to gesture in the direction of the stage.

“The drummer?” His eyes find Gareth. “He’s my boyfriend. The rest of the band are his best friends, so kind of mine too, I suppose.”

“Oh that’s so nice! They’re really good.”

“Aren’t they? What’ve you been up to?” You ask, not wanting to sound like a dick.

“Same as you. College. Fraternity stuff,” you internally roll your eyes, “trying to figure out what to do when I graduate, that kind of thing.”

“That sounds fun! I hope you find something you like doing.”

It’s then that Gareth looks toward the crowd after he’s had his head tossed back, and he finds you, talking to some guy.

He feels jealousy kick in his chest, and he tries to tamp it down, because the guy is getting up, leaving you alone, and your eyes are on him again.

————

“Hey, Eddie! You were so good tonight! Very badass, if I may.”

Eddie grins wildly at you, offering a sweaty hug. “Thank you, my liege.”

You see a mop of brown curls appear behind him from the back of the building, and run around to met him.

“Hi, pretty boy!” Gareth grabs hold of you as you throw yourself at him, eager to spoil him with praise.

“Hey.” The way he says it makes you pull back, and you immediately know something’s wrong. It’s hard for him to hide things from you these days.

“What’s the matter? And don’t say nothing because I’ll kick your ass, Emerson.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s more so because he knows you, and knows these feelings are silly, but he can’t help it. They’re the result of being bullied his whole life, he supposes.

“Who was that guy earlier? He was sitting with you.”

Gareth avoids your eyes.

“Oh.” He hates the way you say that, that you understand him so well. “That was Michael. He was my lab partner when we were in school. Just wanted to catch up.”

He scratches his nose, but drops his hand when you take his face in both of yours.

“Hey. Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“It’s okay if you are, but there’s no reason to be,” you tell him.

“I’m not.”

“Gareth,” you plead.

“Fuck. Yeah, I’m jealous, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. But you don’t have to worry about that, I swear.”

You push some of his sweaty curls back from his forehead, and grab a hair tie from your wrist to tie the top half up. He’s been growing it out lately, and it along enough that you can do so.

“He’s a frat boy, Gare.” You speak as you handle his hair. “He sounded nicer than in high school, but the fraternity thing is more than enough to make him a hazard.”

Gareth laughs, and you feel an immense relief at the sound. You grin at both that and the finished knot on the crown of his head.

“Really, I am sorry though,” he tells you. “I just get insecure sometimes. That I’m not good enough for you.”

“I know. But please don’t think that, honey. You’re everything to me, are you kidding?”

You take both of his hands, and you can feel a new callous on his palm, which you’ll have to look at later. He’s very good at cracking his skin open.

“Also, you looked insanely hot up here. Seriously. Don’t get me started. I could write an essay on how good you looked.”

Gareth goes bright red. “Oh yeah? Well I expect this essay on my desk come Monday morning. 8am sharp. No sooner, no later.”

You laugh brilliantly, and kiss him on each cheek.

“I’ll get right on it, Gare bear.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#gareth emerson #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x you #gareth emerson x gn!reader #gareth emerson x y/n #gareth emerson x gender neutral reader #gareth emerson fic #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson oneshot #gareth the great #gareth stranger things #stranger things gif #gareth stranger things fic #savannah’s fics

[dreadnotau]

It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it? This time, I come bearing actually good news!

Firstly, I’d like to thank everyone for their patience during this hiatus, and welcome all the new people! It always surprises me when the blog still gets notes and follows, even though it’s inactive. I have to say, though, the hiatus was completely necessary. College takes a lot out of me (who would’ve guessed), and I can’t imagine keeping up with comic uploads during it (more on that later), and while it hurts that I haven’t been able to continue my passion project while I study, I’ve made a lot of genuine improvements to my art and I hope that’ll show with the pages that’ll release shortly (and maybe with some projects I do in the future, ooo).

Oh, yeah, pages will be releasing again! When summer break started, I also slowly started chipping away at the comic again, but didn’t want to start uploading again until I had some pages ready a-la backlog in case of emergencies and blah blah, if you’ve read my announcement posts before, you know the story. The problem is, I glanced at my calendar the other day, and realised I REALLY don’t have that much time to spend dicking around and bouncing between projects willy-nilly, not if I want Dread Not Act 1 to actually wrap up soon. Which, I really do, because… there’s 3 other Acts after it.

I already have 2 pages ready to go, so the new upload schedule is as follows: This Saturday (8.) I’ll release one of the ready pages, then I’ll release the next on Tuesday (11.), and from the Saturday after that (15.) and on, I’ll be releasing pages weekly again. Yes, weekly, not with an extra week gap between them. This may prove catastrophic, BUT if my calculations are right (even though I’m bad at math), Act 1 should wrap up completely by the end of October.

The last page(s) SHOULD release on the 21st of October, if I don’t fuck something up royally. And that absolutely can happen, and I suspect it will, because October is when college starts, and if ya’ll remember oct. of 2022, you’ll know I absolutely DIED in October and handled absolutely none of the schedule well. I hope I’ll be better prepared this time though, and it’s a risk I’m willing to take to finally see this through to the end. BUT! Absolutely don’t be surprised if the last few pages end up having longer breaks between uploading them (even though I would HATE that for the comic’s pacing), because school just be like that and I can’t help it, for the most part.

Thank you all again for your support, and I hope this summer is a good one for all of us!

Bonus:

#dreadnot #dread not #dread not au #dreadnotau #Hiatus 3 #Not Comic #undertale #undertaleAU #undertale au #deltarune #deltaruneau #deltarune au #toriel #gaster #wd gaster #w.d. gaster #spade #king of spades #Spade King #asgore #kris #deltarune kris #kris deltarune #kris dreemurr #shoutout to me being so out of the game i almost posted the unfinished version of the post art instead of the actual finished one

[doctorstethoscope]

Sink or Swim || June

y'all have been waiting for this one! I hope you like it.

side note: going forward, I will only be adding people to my taglist if they have already interacted with my content. i'm noticing that there are people requesting to be added who have never interacted with my work, and in fairness to the people on the taglist who do interact regularly, I will be asking for that from now on. Thanks for understanding babes <3

masterlist

wordcount: 1.8k

contains: discussion of food, a little bit of angst

It had been the longest month of your life. Your dynamic with Aaron had changed irrevocably. You were no longer partners, as you had been, whether you acknowledged it or not, but you weren’t not friends, either, even if the relationship sometimes felt awkward and cold as you attempted to renegotiate what you meant to each other. You were more than coworkers, you had a long, storied history— and no relationship outside of work to show for it at the moment. You felt out of place around him, not just emotionally, but physically clumsy– more than once, in the past few weeks, He’d grabbed you by the arm to save you from a fall or managed to catch the box of evidence or file you’d dropped before it could hit the ground. Even though you’d changed, he could still read you better than anybody else. You wanted to hate him for it, but you couldn’t. 

You all are loading back onto the jet when he makes an announcement. “Jack has insisted that Alexis wants a half-birthday party,” he smirks. “So I’m hosting this Saturday. Please don’t bring anything— she’s got enough toys to keep her entertained until college,” he jokes. “But we’ll have cake and ice cream, and I know not everyone has had the chance to meet her yet. The kids and I would love to see you there,” he says before settling back into his seat. 

He’s at the table with Rossi, and usually you’d be on his left. But for the past two cases, you’ve sat at the back couches with JJ and Emily. They’ve certainly noticed your changed preference although they’ve been kind enough not to say anything about it.

“That’s nice,” JJ remarks. “How long have you guys been planning that?” 

“Oh, that’s all Hotch,” you tell her blasely, putting your nose back in your paperwork. 

“Jack didn’t say anything to you?” Emily asked. “You’re like, his second-favorite person, after the baby.” 

“I haven’t been going by as much lately,” you shrug, trying to make it sound like nothing, like you weren’t crying yourself to sleep at night over it. “Hotch’s got a handle on it, now, so he needs me less.”

Emily looks like she wants to ask more, but JJ cuts her off before she can– you’re grateful, even though you know it’s because she can read the pain in your eyes like a book. 

“That must be nice,” JJ remarks kindly. “To have a bit of your free time, your independence, back.” 

“Yeah,” you smile disingenuously. Independence has never felt so much like a punishment, you think.

*****

When Saturday rolls around, you make your way over to Hotch’s. You decide that your absence would be more conspicuous than your presence, and besides– you agreed to take some space from each other, not to disappear from the kids' lives entirely.  You missed them, and you secretly hoped that they missed you, too. 

You knock on the door, silently praying that you aren’t the first to arrive. 

“Hey,” Hotch says with a smile when he opens the door with Lexie in tow. The house is quiet– too quiet. Damn your punctual nature. 

Lexie is reaching out for you and kicking her legs as soon as her father opens the door. “Hi Ms. Half-Birthday girl!” You coo, reaching for her, and Aaron passes her off to you, taking the tupperware container from your hands. 

“I made a fruit salad,” you explain as you bounce Lexie on your hip, “and some fruit purees for Lexie, because she’s too young—”

“For cake, I know,” he assures you. “We miss you, but we’re not that lost without you,” he teases.

Jack comes barrelling in, then, crashing into your calves with a thud. 

“Careful, buddy,” Aaron warns. 

“I missed you!! Where have you been?” Jack asked, now sitting on your feet with his legs wrapped around your ankles. 

“I missed you too, buddy. How has soccer been?” You ask, pointedly ignoring the question. 

“It’s been sooo good.” He tells you. I’m working on hitting the ball with my head! Do you want to see?” He asks. 

“Why don’t you go outside and practice a little while the adults talk, Jack?” Hotch suggests, and your anxiety spikes. 

Jack grumbles, but goes, and the two of you are alone. “Hotch,” you say, trying to pre-empt whatever discussion he wants to initiate, but he forges on.

“They miss you. We all do,” he says, stepping closer to you. You shift Lexie in front of you, using her as a human shield. You chuckle, because it’s ridiculous, and Aaron smiles. “Missed the sound of your laugh,” he mumbles.

“Aaron, please don’t,” you tell him. “It hurts too much.” 

“Shh,” he whispers. Your faces are so close they’re practically touching, but you won’t look at him. You can’t look at him, because then any crumb of distance you’ve created in the past month from the love you feel for him will be swept away, and you won’t be able to handle it. You’ll have to transfer and move and start a new life. You don’t think you can take it. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Aaron continues. “You have to listen.” 

There’s a knock at the door, and you gasp, taking a quick step back as not to be caught. You finally look Aaron in the eye– he’s torn, confused, upset. 

“Don’t leave, okay? Don’t leave until we can talk. Promise me,” he begs. 

You’re helpless to resist him. “Okay. I promise.” 

The team only stays for a couple of hours, enough time for everyone to snuggle the baby and kick the ball around with Jack and eat a cupcake or two, but with this conversation with Aaron hanging over your head, it feels torturously long. When everyone files out, you seek solace in the kitchen, packaging up leftovers and wiping down counters in the hopes that your sense of duty to cleanliness will absolve you of the promise you made to Hotch. It doesn’t.

“Hey,” he says, meeting you at the counter. “Can we talk?” 

“We can talk,” you tell him. He takes a step closer, attempts to round the corner to be next to you, but you put a hand out to stop him. “No.” You command. “I can’t think when you stand that close to me. Sit on the other side of the counter and we can talk. 

He obeys, never wanting you to be uncomfortable. Settling into one of the barstools, he takes a deep breath before he starts. “Space isn’t working– not for me, not for the kids. We miss you, terribly. You are a part of this family, to us. Is this really working for you? Is this really what you want?”

“No,” you answer honestly.  “Of course it’s not working. But I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do, Aaron!” 

“Come home,” he pleads. “That’s all you have to do. You are a part of this family. Come home.” 

“I don’t think I can,” you admit in a whisper. 

“Don’t say that. Of course you can.” 

“I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I can be in your life as not- your-wife, not-their-mom. I deserve to have those experiences, Aaron, and to have them fully. I deserve to be all in with someone, and I can’t when I’m still playing house with you,” you say, and you know that it’s not right, that you walked into this situation freely, that he never coerced or manipulated you into anything, but you’re angry with him for it. You’re angry with him for allowing you to fall for him. 

“That’s not what we were. You weren’t ever playing house. The way I feel about you is not a game,” he tells you.

“What do you mean?” You ask. 

“I know– I know that Lexie doesn’t know what the word means. But when she babbled mama, it rang out clear as day, and she was right. Hearing you explain to Jack that you weren’t his mom, it felt wrong. Because of course you are— if you want to be,” he tells you.

 “When you explained to Jack that you weren’t his mom, or his step mom or his extra mom or whatever other term his friends parents are using, I couldn’t help you explain it to him because all I could think about was how I could fix it. I knew then, that I loved you– and I know you love my children– our children, maybe. I came over that night to tell you that I love you, to ask if we could stop living in this weird purgatory of feeling so strongly without a word to describe it. You asked for space, and I gave it to you. I’d give you the moon, if you asked for it. All I’m asking now is that you listen to me and think about if you could ever love me too,” he tells you, each word tumbling from his lips as if he had held it back as long as he could until the dam burst. 

“Oh, Aaron…. Aaron,” you say, coming around the counter and putting your hands on either side of his face. “I’m sorry. Why did you let me say all of those stupid things at my apartment?” You laughed. 

“I thought that was what you wanted,” he reminds you, placing one of his hands over yours, wrapping his thumb over the side of your palm. “If you didn’t want me, how could I put all of that– my emotions, not to mention those of the kids– on you? It wouldn’t be fair.”

“It’s not what I wanted, not at all. I wanted you,” you explain to him desperately. 

“Do you still? Want me,” he asks, and it’s almost sheepish. 

He looks so scared, so sad, so unsure, that you can’t help but kiss him. You could answer him with words, but you needed him to know, to feel how deeply you did. Without breaking the kiss, he wraps his arms around your waist, guides you backwards so he can step out of the chair and wrap you up in him completely. When you pull apart for air, he’s dazed, but beaming– looking almost drunk in the revelation of your feelings. 

“Stay tonight, please. We can figure out the rest in the morning. But stay tonight?” He asks. 

You smile back at him, and can’t help but laugh a little. “After the last month, you’ll have a harder time getting me to leave.” 

tagging: @spacecowboyhotch @honeybrowne @angelfxllcm @rousethemouse @infinite-tides @gspenc @anlin2058 @zetasaturno99 @darkenwolfie @realdirectionx @witheldclouds @sbeno22 @el-vs94 @hausofwhores

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch #hotch fic #hotch x reader fic #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

[girlwithfish]

Saturday his professor made us breakfast which was so so sweet. nd he purees strawberries and puts a little honey to drizzle it on the waffles he made us. and then showed us around his property. and then we got coffee on the river and sat by the river for a bit then we drove thru the college he went to and he pointed some places out. and then we went to west asheville and we went to a plant shop. we walked thru the place for a while holding hands and such a lot. stopped at a record store then smoke shop and the employees were all really nice. we found juneberry trees off the sidewalks and on our way back to the car we stood under the trees collecting them in a plastic bag we prob looked crazy and some ppl wld stop by and ask what we were doing and hed tell them abt the berries and etc . they tasted rly good. and then we went to the airbnb at 3 and it was beautiful and nice driving away from the businesses and town and seeing the mountains and being in that little area.. there was a creek right outside the cabin nd u cld hear the water running from inside. and then a little pond the other direction w geese and ducks. as soon as we got to the cabin before we even unloaded the car we had sex lmao . then he got our stuff and I took a shower and we ate leftover pizza we had from Friday night and the juneberries. he made a joke this morning abt how I only eat them one by one while he grabs a handful and then I said look I ate 4 at a time ;p and thennn he restrung his guitar but a string broke so we drove to a music store to get a new one b4 the show. then at the show ran into lots of ppl he knew but every1 was nice and it was chill. he played early like at 7 and most ppl weren't in the actual room where the stage is at and we're in the big open room behind it but there's no door or anything/it's not closed off its just this huge open area. but tje place was more crowded by like 9 . there weren't many ppl in the actual room he played but u can still hear the music everywhere like in the bar and the thrift store connected to the venue. I'd clap after every song :3 a few ppl went up to him after the show and told him they really liked his set and stuff. we stayed for the next set and just chilled and walked around and I had this bad seltzer but I made myself finish it even tho it just reminds me of the way sparkling water tastes kind of flat and flavorless I hate it.. we left at almost 10 so we're there for a while. then got dinner to go downtown then went back to the cabin 🙏

[betterbooktitles]

My college girlfriend walked out of Chautauqua’s little church-shaped movie theater with tears in her eyes. We’d seen Frank Capra’s It Happened One Night (1934). I had enjoyed the movie but wasn’t necessarily as moved as she was. She suddenly needed to tell me something. She came to visit me in Chautauqua on a Saturday. It was now Wednesday night. Wednesday was the Classic Cinema Night at the theater when they screened an old movie at 5 PM for people who couldn’t watch a movie after 7 PM without falling asleep. I was one of those people.

The sun was still bright when we walked out of the theater. We headed down a grass hill and stood on the brick walk in front of the arches of the opera house.

“Did the movie bother you?” I asked.

She was pinching her flushed face, tears rolling down her cheeks while she squeezed my hand. She would not look at me. 

“I did something.” she said.

I knew. I even knew who it was with. Not hard to guess. In a way, I was glad it was her ex-boyfriend and not some random guy she’d gotten drunk with. That I would have taken personally. This instance was mostly about them and not me. Except we’d been together for at least a year, so I felt somewhat involved.

She fucked her ex and told me about it. She wanted me to know she wasn’t rekindling anything and saw the act more as the death knell of their love for each other. She hated that it happened, though I didn’t feel like she hated herself enough for doing it. He hated that she didn’t want him back, I know that much. I know a lot I wish I didn’t. More details than I needed. He was outdoorsy and she had loved him half her life and he could do a one-handed push-up. I was some nerd she’d met at school who liked reading Updike novels, most of which were ironically about this very subject.

After our conversation, I walked the 3-mile loop of the Chautauqua Institution in the dark. I wasn’t ready to cry yet, and instead entered the manic phase of a young man in pain, making small talk with strangers in a voice I now know must have sounded too fast and high-pitched. Many of these people took the opportunity to turn down the first available side street and wave me off.

For better or worse, this was not the straw that broke the camel’s back for me and my girlfriend. That would come much later. Chautauqua, however, was ruined for an evening, perhaps a year. Why wasn’t I in New York City getting a leg up on my comedy career? Why was I wasting a summer in this pretty place made for young families and the nearly deceased? I should be using this current heartbreak to fuel my rampage of the city’s eligible dating pool. I made a plan to not come back the next year as I walked.

The flowers looked black against the moonlit surface of the lake. The cackling silhouettes of carefree teens getting drunk by the bell tower seemed like wraiths. I went home where she was waiting for me on the porch. I got some more details I didn’t want, and then we made up and dated for two more years.

Read the rest here.

#essay #writing #creative writing #literature #lit #movies #love #breakup #books #chautauqua #dan wilbur