#and it’s not like I can ask my professor for an extension cause I’m just gonna keep being in pain anyway?? and I’m already behind in all my

[daydream-cement]

Hello Kaley!

I was thinking about a prompt for Larissa x Fern.

Happening a week after Fern resuscitation, how did the staff react? Did she not tell her fam? What did Larissa and Fern do? Besides sexy stuff 😂 you can write the smut for that bit but not 100% necessary in my part. I’m entrigued by the students and staff finding out that she was alive ‘cause they all seemed to love her. 💗

If you are planning on something for the fic along this lines do ignore me 🌝

Thanks!

-Ana

You’re Alive?

Larissa Weems x OC (Fern Rogers)

Authors Note: “besides sexy stuff” you are hilarious

Larissa was adamant that you visit the doctor before she let you begin working again as botany professor. You passed all the physical exams and Larissa seemed a little disappointed a doctor didn’t say that you should stay in bed for her to dote after you. You were ready the following Monday. Part of you wished you had taken a picture to always remember the look on your students’ faces that morning when they strolled into class.k

The mixture of confusion and awe was high when you walked from the greenhouse into the main classroom. It was surprising to hear the voice that spoke up first. Wednesday Addams spoke up with a real smile on her face, you had never seen her smile before, “You’re alive?”

You only smile, giving the students an opportunity to adapt to your presence and ask questions. Wednesday persisted, seeming all too interested in your death and life experience, “You cheated death?”

“It seems like I did.” You offer, ready to field the next question.

“But we buried you. Are you a zombie?” Ajax looked a little nervous, looking around at his classmates to see if everyone else was seeing the same thing.

“I am not a zombie.” You didn’t feel quite comfortable telling the students about your extensive relationship with the surrounding forest.

“What brought you back? WAS IT THE POWER OF LOVE? Because you love Principal Weems?” Enid stood from her chair and leaned over the top of her desk, waiting adamantly for your reply.

“Yes. It was the power of love.” You response was a little sarcastic, but these students didn’t need to know the extent in which the forest watched everything. You saw some of the class go doe-eyed at how cute your response was while the other class looked like they could be sick, “You should have seen Principal Weems though. She had a sword fight with Crackstone and won.”

The advanced botany students went wide eyed. Most of them had been face to face with the pilgrim and they were shocked to hear your statement.

“I don’t believe that.” You hear Bianca’s skepticism.

“Well let me tell you what really happened to cause my death and then you’ll see how I was saved by the power of love.” You went over the story in basic details but really embellished the achievements of Larissa and Rowan. They were the real hero’s of the story. You just benefited from their heroism by coming back to life. The story seemed to satisfy them and even become enamored with Principal Weems.

Wednesday stopped you after class, her words in her typical monotone cadence, “You are my hero. Cheating death is the ultimate victory.”

You were going to brag to Larissa about that one to tonight.

Later that day, you felt the eyes of fellow staff members staring at you. Rowan put on her best ‘scary dog’ face and glared at them if they looked at you too long.

They knew more than the students did about the whole incident as it was a threat to the entire school. Rowan, being the blabbermouth that she was, had shared many of the other details of Larissa bringing you back to life. It seemed like the power of love was the most compelling reason to why you came back to life. Yet none of the other teachers actually stopped you to talk to you about the situation.

You really didn’t care. After everything that happened, you were happy to have Larissa, Rowan, and a engaged classroom of students.

That night you made sure to brag to Larissa about being Wednesday’s hero to which she replied, “She doesn’t need another bad influence.”

“You wound me.” You turn and lay your body across Larissa’s lap. You both had been enjoying time on the sofa together when you remembered the conversation from class this morning, “The students believe I was saved by the healing powers of love.”

“Hm, the healing powers of love…” Larissa chucked and placed a hand on your cheek. She was on her phone, playing a game to unwind.

Your students weren’t exactly wrong. You had been healed by love. Larissa’s love to plant the tree. Larissa’s love to try to save you. Rowan and Larissa’s love for you and Nevermore. Ultimately you had told the students the truth in a way, and now students believed you and Larissa were two of the coolest people at Nevermore.

#larissa weems #fanfic #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #stately sequoia #oneshot #larissa weems x oc #the cedars have eyes #violet and rose

[coffeefrenchandhistory]

The love potions headcanon and why Ginny used them

So. We all know what love potions are, in the HP universe. They are potions which can cause obsession, or infatuation, in the drinker with the person who gave it to them. And of all the love potions out there, none are more powerful than Amortentia.

This is important for us to know, since Amortentia is the strongest of the love potions, it implies there are weaker or less powerful forms of the potion as well. What would very likely be aphrodisiacs.

Before Half-Blood Prince, here's what we know about love potions (bolded for emphasis):

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” beamed Lockhart. “They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!" — Chamber of Secrets

They [Ron and Harry] headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she’d made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly. — Prisoner of Azkaban

"She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that’s how she’s doing it."  Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter’s well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate. — Goblet of Fire

And then we get to Half-Blood Prince. Where potions, but specifically love potions, take center-stage. In the course of the book, we see:

Merope Gaunt use a love potion on Tom Riddle Sr to steal him away from Cecelia, his fiancée;

Romilda Vane attempt to dose Harry with love potions in chocolate (and that love potions grow in strength the longer they sit, as what happens when Ron eats the chocolate instead of Harry)

The Weasley twins sell love potions in their shop in Diagon Alley.

And most importantly, Horace Slughorn introduces not just love potions to the class, but as well introduces the class — and us by extension — to Amortentia. The strongest love potion there is in the Wizarding world.

I'm not alone in saying that the Harry/Ginny relationship came out of nowhere. There was no real build-up to it from a Doylist perspective. Harry interacts with Ginny in Chamber of Secrets, barely at all in Prisoner of Azkaban and Goblet of Fire, and only really starts to have any kind of interaction in Order of the Phoenix. She's in one book, all but disappears for two more, and then only starts having any kind of interaction with Harry in the fifth book.

It's a very sudden thing, Harry falling for Ginny.

Then there's the "monster in his chest" nonsense.

Yeah. Unfortunately we have to talk about it. I don't like it, but we do.

Compare and contrast Harry's crush on Cho, which we see in Prisoner of Azkaban, versus what we see for Harry regarding Ginny in Half Blood Prince.

Prisoner of Azkaban (emphasis bolded):

They walked out on​to the pitch to tu​mul​tuous ap​plause. The Raven​claw team, dressed in blue, were al​ready stand​ing in the mid​dle of the pitch. Their Seek​er, Cho Chang, was the on​ly girl in their team. She was short​er than Har​ry by about a head, and Harry couldn’t help notic​ing, ner​vous as he was, that she was extreme​ly pret​ty. She smiled at Har​ry as the teams faced each other be​hind their cap​tains, and he felt a slight jolt in the re​gion of his stom​ach that he didn’t think had any​thing to do with nerves.

Half-Blood Prince (emphasis bolded):

Harry hardly noticed the sound of shattering glass; he felt dis- oriented, dizzy; being struck by a lightning bolt must be something like this. It’s just because she’s Ron’s sister, he told himself. You just didn’t like seeing her kissing Dean because she’s Ron’s sister.... But unbidden into his mind came an image of that same deserted corridor with himself kissing Ginny instead... The monster in his chest purred... but then he saw Ron ripping open the tapestry curtain and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things like “betrayal of trust”... “supposed to be my friend”... “D’you think Hermione did snog Krum?” Ron asked abruptly, as they approached the Fat Lady. Harry gave a guilty start and wrenched his imagination away from a corridor in which no Ron intruded, in which he and Ginny were quite alone —

It's night and day. Cho is butterflies in his stomach, nervousness, apprehension even. Noticing that she was "extremely pretty". With Ginny? It's quite different. And sure, you could make the excuse of it just being age, but throughout HBP we see repeated and repeated reference to the "monster in his chest", of wanting to take Ginny in a very intimate manner. It's a very specific reference. Later on that page, how Harry wants to rip Dean limb from limb.

Now, I've been a teenage boy. And in all of the crushes I've had, I've never wanted to rip the boyfriend of the girl I might be interested in "limb from limb". I might be jealous, sure, or even a bit put out that he's getting to experience what I would want to — but what Harry is going through reads far more like obsession. Harry is infatuated with being with Ginny. Having her with him. Imagining all the intimate moments between them, with no one interrupting. And it comes all out of a sudden. Even Harry is surprised by the feeling.

But Josh, you might be saying! Love potions cause the person to act like an idiot! We see this with Ron!

Incorrect, but points for attention! The experience you're referring to is when Ron Weasley ate the chocolates that Romilda gave to Harry which were laced in love potion. Which had been sitting in Harry's trunk for months, stewing and growing in strength (but also, gross, Harry). Which implies, or outright states, that love potions have a more subtle approach to how they interact with the consumer. Like a boiling the frog approach.

But Josh, you might be saying again! Why would Ginny use a love potion? She was pretty, she was popular, all the boys wanted her!

Yes, she is. Even Blaise Zabini, a noted blood purist in Slytherin, notes that Ginny is attractive.

"I never really gave up on you," she [Ginny] said. "Not really. I always hoped... Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more - myself."​ "Smart girl, that Hermione," said Harry, trying to smile. "I just wish I'd asked you sooner. We could've had ages... months... years maybe..."​ ​"But you've been too busy saving the Wizarding world," said Ginny half laughing. "Well... I can't say I'm surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn't be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that's why I like you so much."​ — Half-Blood Prince, Ch. 30 (pp 647, US edition)

It's a very weird thing to say. "You wouldn't be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort". Either Ginny meant that she knows Harry has something hanging over his head that he has to deal with or it'll ruin his life, or she knows the Boy-Who-Lived is a Dark Lord Vanquisher™ from the stories she read about as a child.

But it's the first line she says that solidifies it for me.

"I never really gave up on you".

Even after dating Michael Corner and Dean Thomas, even after being involved with these boys for months, she never gave up on Harry. She effectively strung Michael and Dean along in the hopes Harry would realize his feelings for her. Hermione most likely wanted Ginny to date someone, and realize that her crush on Harry was a silly childhood crush. She strung those two boys along in the hopes that Harry felt something for her too. And when he didn't appear to, when he didn't seem to reciprocate, well... her brothers sell love potions in Diagon Alley.

And remember that Ginny Weasley was browsing the love potions section of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in HBP and asked Fred if they worked.

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. Hermi- one and Ginny both hung back, looking wary. “There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.” Ginny raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Do they work?” she asked. “Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time de- pending on the weight of the boy in question —” “— and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, reappearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not selling them to our sister,” he added, becoming suddenly stern, “not when she’s already got about five boys on the go from what we’ve —”

Ginny had basically set her sights on the Boy-Who-Lived since before she even met him. The moment she found out that Harry was going to Hogwarts, and was on the train, she wanted to see him like he was a thing at a zoo. And yes, sure, we can excuse that as her being 10 years old. But it's still not a great start for the relationship.

Harry is great when it comes to dealing with something in front of him. A villainous professor, a basilisk, dementors, dragons, Death Eaters in the Ministry. But someone surreptitiously dripping something into his pumpkin juice? Harry's not Mad-Eye Moody, he's not paranoia made flesh. He wouldn't think someone would be so bold as to try that.

And Ginny Weasley was plenty bold.

#personal #Harry Potter headcanon #meta commentary #Harry Potter meta commentary #love potions

[hext00ns]

Softly {@sicktember}

AO3 l!nk in comments

Ships: Iris/Phoenix

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Description: Phoenix works himself sick and it’s up to his lovely girlfriend Dahlia (Iris) to care for him.

{Sicktember 2022 Day 11: Psychogenic Fever / Stress-Induced Illness}

When a hand ran against Phoenix’s forehead he snapped from his papers and looked up. He hadn’t even noticed the redhead come into his dorm. Her deep brown eyes were filled with concern. Though, what Phoenix was mainly focused on, was the agonizingly soft and cool hand pressed to his skin.

“Oh, Feenie,” she mused softly. “You’re burning up.”

Phoenix could feel how hot he was if only just by the stark contrast of Dahlia’s hand. He knew he probably looked like an absolute wreck. His eyes hurt and his head was splitting. He felt like he was two seconds away from turning to mush. He pressed against Dahlia’s hand and mumbled out a, “‘M fine. Jus’ kinda hot. I’ll turn a fan on.”

Dahlia frowned at that. “You should lay down. You’re sick.”

“Nooo,” Phoenix whined out. “I’m not. I’m not. I’m jus’ kinda tired. I have to finish this- this paper tonight.” He made a gesture to the computer and text books laid out before him on the desk. “It’s due in class tomorrow.”

“Feenie,” Dahlia sighed. Her hand ran from his forehead to his cheek, cupping his face with the most loving and gentle hold. Phoenix closed his eyes and focused on nothing but her soft voice and delicate fingers. “You’ve been working yourself much too hard. You really should rest.”

“But my paper,” he mumbled. There was hardly any real fight in his voice. The exhaustion just as clear as the fever he was currently sporting.

“Please rest,” Dahlia cooed with a pout. She put her free hand to his other cheek and lifted his head so she could meet his tired eyes. “At least for me? I’m worried about you.”

Phoenix made a noise in his throat that could only really be described as a whine. He wanted to fight it so bad. He wanted to tell her no and get back to work. He needed to finish his work for class. There was so much he needed to do. His plans for a new major were so daunting and stressful and he needed to make sure he kept up with everything lest he fall behind. He wasn’t very good with school in the first place. And law was coming around to be a greater challenge than he initially planned. But none of that was going to stop him. He couldn’t let it. So why the hell was he going to let a fever of all things stop him?

The fever, Phoenix was sure he could fight. But Dollie? That was a much harder battle. The concern that poured into every word, every glance, every touch. It caused him to melt faster than his fever.

“But Dollie,” he tried.

She moved a thumb to his lips to stop him. “You can email the professor and ask for an extension. If you're sick there’s no getting around it, right? Your health is more important than one paper.”

Phoenix frowned but couldn’t pull out any kind of rebuttal.

“Come on,” she said with a small smile. She took his wrist and started to lead him away from the desk and towards his bed.

He didn’t have the energy or the heart to resist her. Instead letting himself be guided under the covers. She helped pull his beloved sweater off and folded it neatly to the side. Instead replacing it with the blanket, making sure he was fully covered and comfortable.

He blinked and somehow she had acquired a rag and bowl of water in that short time. Dahlia sat next to his bed and began to run the cool rag across his forehead and down his cheeks. As she worked Phoenix found himself relaxing at the touch. He sighed in content as she ran the cloth down the sides of his neck before pausing.

“You should take this off,” she noted, gently touching the necklace chain. “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable without it.”

Phoenix shook his head in disagreement. “I wanna keep it on. It feels comforting to keep.”

Dahlia raised a brow and tilted her head at that. She clearly didn’t understand how a metal and glass neckless could ever feel good resting against a sweaty, fevered chest. She moved to argue the point but stopped. It was clear Phoenix wasn’t going to budge here. And she didn’t want to upset him or cause him any more stress in such a state. So she left it where it was and went back to her work. She ran the rag back up his face and to his forehead again. After giving it another good dip in the water to recool it, he put it back to his head and left it there.

Phoenix lazily watched her. After another blink he opened his eyes to her now holding out a thermometer that he didn't see her grab at all. He was starting to think the time between blinks was longer than he thought.

He didn’t need to be told what to do next, he opened his mouth and let her slide the little device under his tongue.

“Good boy,” she giggled.

Something about her words made Phoenix feel like he was being turned to putty right in her hands. Which, he was pretty sure he already was. But this probably wasn’t helping any. Not that he minded.

When the little device beeped she brought it back to her face to look and gave a little frown. “It’s not terrible. But it definitely says you need to rest for a bit.” She put it down and started to pet him. Running her fingers over his scalp and through his hair. Some strokes with the pads of her fingers and some gently with her nails. The comforting ministrations practically threatening to lull Phoenix to sleep right there.

“My poor Feenie,” she cooed. “You really shouldn’t work yourself so hard.”

“But I need to,” he mumbled. His eyelids drooping lazily. “For him.”

Dahlia gave an understanding smile. “I know. But you really don’t have to push yourself so hard. I’m sure you’re going to make an amazing lawyer one day and help so many people.”

“That… that means everything to me,” Phoenix replied, honestly. He let his eyes fall closed the rest of the way, not strong enough to keep them open any longer. “I love you, Dollie. So much.”

“I love you too,” she replied, pressing a soft kiss to his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

#ace attorney #feenris #phoenix wright #aa iris #sickfic #sicktember #sicktember 2022 #fan fic #fan fiction #mywriting

[yourdreamsyourwish-2]

I Just Wanted You to Know 

Word Count: 1,840

This is told in Yixing’s POV. I thought it fit well with the story. 

Trigger Warning: Depression, Alcoholism, Grief and Child Death (Talking about it). 

In the movies whenever someone is sad or feeling like life isn’t worth living anymore, it’s cloudy or almost constant rain.  However, as I gazed outside the window, all I saw was sunlight with bright blue skies as if it was mocking my existence in a way.  The world is happy, yet you're not.  

“Yixing.”  My therapist calls my name, for I don’t know how many times.  I glance over, looking at him, without actually seeing.  

“I’m sorry, what did you ask?”  I clarified, picking at a small skin that had come off at one of my nails. 

“Have you been to an AA meeting yet? Or at least tired?”  I glanced down at the scab, now a fresh drop of blood smeared over my skin.  

“I sat in the back, I didn’t talk or anything.” 

“But you went, so that’s an improvement.”  I nod, looking at his degree hanging on the wall to the right.  The sun bounced off the glass causing a ray of light that bounced around the room almost like a crystal.  If I looked hard enough I could see a rainbow in the beam.  

“Yixing.”  He said again softly.  I flashed back to him, his smile still on his face, always on, always caring.  

“I’m sorry, my mind is…”  

“I understand, addiction is hard at every stage.  I just asked, ‘How are you girls?’”  

“My girls?”  I felt the urge to pull out my wallet and look at the family photo, to see them if only for a second.  My peace, my world, the reason I’m still able to wake up.  They shouldn’t be the only reason, which is why I’m here.  That is too big of a burden for them, too heavy a load to carry for the rest of their lives. 

“I talked to them last night on the phone of course.  Their mom…I got to talk to her for a bit as well. She sounds…I miss seeing them everyday, but I understand.”  

“They are still at your in-laws?”  I nod, working on another bed of a nail.  

“It’s better for them, until I can get some control.  I’m not violent, never have been, I’m just…it’s not good for them to see me like this.  If it was just ____ and I, she would be with me, but it’s not just us.  It’s the five-”  I stop talking, the image of my girls flashing in my eyes, before I shake my head.  I could feel the wave of grief washing over me with each breath I took in. “Four…it’s just the four of us.”  

“Still not working?” 

“Work gave me another extension, I won’t need to go back to teaching until next year.  Tenure and all that, besides the temporary candidate might join as well.  He’s proving to be a very good professor.”  Silence fell over us, as he seemingly began to write something down. 

“You know you can talk about it if you want.”  

“She’s dead, no matter what I say will bring her back.” 

“It will help for you to-”

“I think we’re done for the day are we not?”  

“You still have 15 more minutes.”  He replied back.  “We can talk about something else now.”  I nod, wanting to clear my head of her smile.  “But I do want you to know, this will always be a safe place for you to open up.”  I nod, wipe away the tears that came out.  

“I think Wrexham might move to another league, don't you?”  The conversation changed to soccer, a sport I feel comfortable with, something that I can focus on, focus on the ball, focus on the goal at hand.  Just stop thinking, stop thinking, and for the next 15 minutes, I stopped thinking.  

🖤🖤🖤

The house is too quiet when I enter.  I lay my takeout on the kitchen counter, my eyes going to the giant bottle of whiskey.  The empty bottles of vodka and wine littered the counter top near the recycling bin.  Three boxes of beer empty, I couldn’t remember the last time I took out the recycling or the trash.  Was it last week, or the week before?

Sighing, I felt the itch at the back of my throat to pour myself a drink, to give in, to not feel, to stop thinking again.  Leaving the food on the counter, I go upstairs, feeling my phone vibrate, with a message from my wife.  Our picture together flashes behind her message, the five of us, all happy and smiling.  My eyes are only on her in the photo. Our last family portrait, even though we didn’t know it would be the last. 

I got to the top of the stairs, my gaze falling to the left where my daughters' rooms were all laid out.  It was a right turn to our suite, yet I found myself standing in front of her door.  The name is draped in purple, with different shades for each letter.  

“I want purple! Purple!”  Her voice rang in my ears, seemingly echoing off the walls as she cheered for the color. My hand shook as I opened up the door, allowing it to reveal the untouched room.  Nothing has changed since the morning we had left to go to the park.  Nothing at all, it stayed exactly the same as we had left it.  ____, couldn’t even go into the room anymore.  Even after the accident, my wife had the strength I couldn’t.  So many times I found her in a ball on the couch crying after the girls had gone to sleep.  They slept in our bed for the longest time, barely able to come to this side of the hallway.  My eyes danced around the room, hearing her tiny voice at each passing glance.    

“Bàba! Look!  Anna is about to be Queen!” the Frozen 2  DVD laid on the ground, next to her Finding Nemo.  I knew if I looked in the receiver I would find Encanto.  It had been her latest obsession, one we had to buy for her DVD TV we had gotten her on her fifth birthday.  In the back of our closet, sat her sixth birthday gift, a small how to sew kit with a child's machine.  Looking at her small bean bag chair, I saw the outfit she had me help choose. 

“All the other girls will be wearing pink.  Mama said Purple is royal, and you always call me princess, so Purple it is!”  She cheered, with the purple sundress she was to wear to classes the following week.  Everything, Everything in this room haunts me, now.  Yet there was no getting rid of it, no touching it.  I couldn’t even take a step inside without feeling like the world was going to cave in.  Her giggle echoed as I shut the door, trying to lock my own grief away if only for another moment. 

I made my way back down, my eyes landing on the bottle of Whiskey.  I grab a glass, no longer bothering with ice, pretending I don’t have a problem.  I wanted to drown, I wanted to stop thinking, stop hearing.  I brought the glass up, tears now falling freely, no longer hiding my anguish from myself.  My eyes caught the swing in the background, a memory from before, flashed in my head.  

“Why is Zŭfù sad?”  My four year old asked.  I picked her up, holding her on my lap, while we swung a little.  I gazed at my father through the glassdoors.  He sat on our couch, holding my mothers jade bracelet he had gotten her on their wedding day.  

“Zŭfù is missing Nǎinai.” 

“Are you sad as well Bàba?”  Her voice echoed.  I still haven’t gotten out of my mourning clothes.  ____ had taken our other two girls to pick up dinner for us.  I nodded, trying to keep from crying in front of her.  Her hand came up and wiped away a tear. 

“Don’t be sad Bàba.  Nǎinai always made me smile.”  It was simple logic for her.  It came so easy.  “Nǎinai told me, when I feel sad, to smile.”  Her arms wrapped my neck, while I silently cried to her shoulder.  Standing up, I smiled at her, blinking away tears. 

“Come on, I bet, Zŭfù would like the company right now.”  She nodded, holding onto me, as we went to comfort my father. 

Her toothy grin flashed in my mind.  I gazed down at the golden tint of liquid in the glass before throwing it in the sink.  It shattered at the contact of the metal.  Grabbing the bottle I poured the rest of it down the drain, not thinking as I moved on to the wine.  As each bottle went down and down, I kept pouring all of it, until I knew there was nothing left.  Our island was covered in empty bottles, nothing left for me to find, nothing left for me to drown in.  Going outback, I grab the recycling bin, filling it up with every bottle left before placing it back outside.  Ignoring the food on the counter, I run and grab my car keys.  

🖤🖤🖤

I hesitated when I knocked on the door.  My mother-in-law had always been kind to me, even though what was happening.  When she answered, my eyes looked red from tears, while she merely smiled and gave me a big hug.  

“It’s about time.”  She whispered, patting my back. 

“I’m sorry it took so long.”  She nodded, before nodding to the stairs.  “Third door on the right.”  She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze of encouragement. 

“No need to apologize.  I’m sure ____ won’t stand for it either.”  I run up the stairs, taking two at a time before opening the door.  I see you, lying there next to our two daughters fast asleep.  I pause staring at you, wondering what you would do, what you would say.  I haven’t physically seen you in what feels like a lifetime, but probably was only a few weeks.  One heartbeat later, you were in my arms, clinging to me for dear life.  Silently crying into my shoulder, while I hugged you tightly.  

“I’m sorry.”  I whisper, kissing your forehead, your temple, anywhere I can find. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you.”  

“No, this was something I had to do alone.” I kissed you, deeply feeling the wave of emotions.  Grief, anxiety, regret, love.  It was a mix bag with each passing wave.  

“Yixing-”  You look up at me, with those beautiful eyes.

“We can talk tomorrow.  Over breakfast.  I’m not going anywhere.”  You nod, kissing me again.  She pulls me over to the bed, waking up the girls, slowly.  

“Bàba!”  they start to yell, jumping up on me for hugs.  I wrap them both in a tight embrace, keeping them together.  I kissed both of their heads, holding them tighter, while I felt you kiss my own.  

Again in this moment, I stop thinking and in the next I begin to feel alive once more.  

🖤🖤🖤

Dictionary According to Google Translate: 

Zŭfù - means Grandfather in Mandarin  Nǎinai - means grandmother in Mandarin Bàba - Means father in Mandarin 

Swift Classic Masterlist

Masterlist

#EXO #exo fanfic #fanfic #EXO Yixing #EXO Lay #Yixing #Lay #Swift classics #Youtube

[saucerfulofsins]

Hey Nate! I’ve actually been wanting to ask you for awhile what your favorite 1988 fics are, or ones that have stayed with you the most. I’ve read (almost) all of it, most of it multiple times, but I’d love to hear what resonates with you. (You continue to be included in the re-read category btw) Sorry about your neighbors, hope your presentation went well and you can get some rest this weekend! 💕💕

Hey! Thank you for your ask and letting me know you keep rereading my fics! <3 The presentation went well, I think, although it's always difficult to know what the professor thinks (I know from a different course he can be strict, but we haven't had a grade by him yet this yr so idk). My neighbours are continuous twats :')

As for my recs! I wanna preface this list by saying it is very incomplete. I’ve taken a random sampling of fics I enjoyed, and you won’t really find anything from the past year here because the only stuff I’ve read was in a private document with @t-eminence (which I would recommend if it was public but it isn’t, so all I can say about that is that it sucks to be you 🤭 🤭)

Also, there’s no particular order to these fics, it’s just a small selection of fics I’ve enjoyed reading!

Banned by Vitula (Teen and Up, 10k)

Let’s start with this one. I’ll confess, I’m not usually a fan of chatfic/phone-fic which I remember made me apprehensive when I began reading it, but I shouldn’t have! I really enjoyed the dynamic of Jon and Pat here, how their respective histories (or in Jonny’s case, alternate history) tie into real live events, and how the story manages to offer substance while still being a light-hearted read!

All this feels strange and untrue by clayisforgirls (Explicit, 50k)

Amnesia fic, another one of those tropes that is hit or miss for me. Again, the substance in this fic and the use of Patrick’s amnesia to explore his feelings for Jonny is so good! I don’t really want to say too much about the plot in case you haven’t read it, but I really enjoyed the pacing—especially of the first couple of chapters.

Muscle stim by Sahiya (Explicit, 7,5k)

Patrick’s a hockey player, Jon his physio. Substance, bla bla, you know the deal. I just love it when there’s some sense of explanation for one of them not being a hockey player (and I’m just now realizing that two of the fics I chose have Jonnybe that person, sorry Jon!!). Then again, I also love the idea of Jonny touching Patrick for ~purely professional reasons and Patrick being a little less professional about it. The dialogue is fun, the pacing is good, and I think it’s the perfect length for a bedtime story when you still need to unwind a little!

Sonoran by Allthebros (Teen and Up, 2k)

A lovely vignette of 1988 in (fresh) retirement. I think ATB really hit the spot here describing Arizona, it’s pretty poetic without the language veering into obnoxious (looking at you, Oscar Wilde). I really like how the setting ties in with Jon and Pat’s changing relationship here, and how those are observations Patrick makes.

Patrick and the Lucky Potato by Bittersweet (General, 700 words)

100% crack. 100% fun. Sometimes a story doesn’t have to be deep, long, or serious—cause this is none of that and yet it never fails to make me smile 😊 I don’t really have much else to say!

I wanna rock the RPMs between the reds and greens by liketheroad (Not Rated, 4k)

1988 through David’s eyes. I do really enjoy reading outsider POVs, because they tend to capture moments that are different from pairing POVs both between the pairing and how the pairing affects the people around them—and they can be so, so, so good because of that. This is an amazing example. I really like how David comes to terms with whatever-it-is Jon and Pat have, but also his conflicted feelings towards Patrick (and by extension, Jonny) throughout. Amazing concept, and an amazing execution.

The Purity Myth by downjune (Mature, 20k)

A really wonderful magical realism AU. I don’t always go for the anthropomorphic stuff, I’m not a huge fan of the wolf ‘verses going on in the fandom, but when I read this one it did hit me just right (although I still have to be in a specific mood for it). I like how vague some of the descriptions were, but also how it brought elements that were unique to me to the fic regarding the magical powers, how dragons and unicorns etc. are described, and so on. And, of course, how all of that ties in to Jon and Pat, their personalities, and their burgeoning relationship.

In Close by demotu (Explicit, 2,5k)

…you know how I said Muscle stim was a fantastic bedtime story to wind down with? This is my favourite bedtime story. I tried not to include it. I know I’ve recommended it before. Probably multiple times. I know demotu is a major name in the fandom, and has some really famous long form fics… but this? This is as perfect as it gets. I feel like this is so short and sweet, and yet it encapsulates everything 1988 is to me, the hesitancy and the simultaneous comfort, the kind of … communication that doesn’t require words, even if it’s never made explicit in the fic that that’s what’s going on, them having this kind of awareness of each other, and the thousands of extra words being told between the lines here. Also, it’s definitely on my list of “hottest make-out sessions in fics.”

On the Line by orphan_account (Explicit, 26k)

To close… a less serious fic, and one I haven’t reread as often as some of the other works on the list. Still, it’s a fun read, I like how Jon gets serious about wooing Patrick right from the start, even if he only finds out Pat’s into him by chance. They’re so wonderfully, charmingly them in this fic, absolute idiots, and that is all I sometimes want honestly. Less drama, more stupidity! (…no that’s a lie, I also love the drama).

#fic recs #anon #ask #:) :) #enjoy reading these (if you haven't) and enjoy rereading if you have!

[ashxxgyu]

i hope the project passes quickly, and i’d like to see your pulls in all the albums.

i just got home from work — quite the long day. i’m glad you’re finally home, how are you feeling?

-🍁

I asked my professor for an extension until tomorrow, hopefully he agrees. Cause today was my mum’s birthday and I wasn’t feeling too well when I got home

I’ll post my pulls soon! I love sharing stuff regarding my album collection, though sometimes I feel silly about it 🫠

I’m glad you’re home too maple, I hope you can rest soon. I’m feeling okay, just overall exhausted.

#⌦ incoming love letter.｡.:*♡ #🍁 anonie #♡ • ➵ signed anonie ◛

[boomerang109]

me: has five days to do assignment

day one: has other assignments to do/deadline is to far away so i don’t care yet/assignment hasn’t actually been posted

day two: i should really do this assignment but i can’t make myself sit down to do it and the professor still hasn’t posted it so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

day three: due to not sleeping, i am physically and mentally unable to do this assignment (a combination of pain, exhaustion, and lack of focus)

day four: (today) i once again did not sleep so my pain has managed to increase exponentially. i have, at 6pm, only just managed to get myself out of bed. i need to do this assignment (and others) but do not know if i will be able to.

day five: that’s tomorrow and the day the assignment is due. here’s hoping i sleep tonight and tomorrow is miraculously the day i can both focus and don’t have excruciating pain 🙂

#everytime i have a headache day like today i am simply blown away by my body’s capacity for pain #like it physically should not be possible to hurt this much #and yet I’m still expected to go about my day as normal cause there’s ‘nothing wrong with me’ #and so I had to attend two classes and work with kids for my job #and then I’ve just been laying in bed and now I’m trying not to cry and I just don’t know what to do #I remembered Advil existed so I took that but it doesn’t usually help anyway. nothing does #and the worst part is I was doing better but then [REDACTED] happened and fucked up my whole eating and sleeping routine #like I can deal with constant pain? like I’m used to that. pain in multiple places? whatever. but just. the stomache plus the leg pain plus #the worst headache you can possibly imagine?? like I literally don’t know how to deal with it #everytime it happens I just lose my mind as if I don’t have this happen all the time. it never gets easier #and I just don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do #and it’s not like I can ask my professor for an extension cause I’m just gonna keep being in pain anyway?? and I’m already behind in all my #classes? and if I can type all this out then I should be able to type about whatever ducking shit I’m supposed to be learning about #but I just hurt so fucking much and I hate it I hate it I hate it #negativity #life of a boomerang #vent #fuck chronic pain and fuck mental illness #I almost did work last night too but then I had to ducking spiral instead cause I’m mentally ill. like how am I supposed to function pls lmk

[eggs-love-loki]

Things that are awful for no reason: asking for extensions

#my professors are always like: if you need an extension just talk to us! #we prefer it’s before the day it’s due so I know you’re at least trying but stuff comes up :) #don’t abuse the policy and we can make it work :) #and I ask for one (1) extension in my three years of having a professor and I’m like ‘I’m abusing the policy’ #last semester was the first time I had to get an extension cause my ortho appointment was so painful I couldn’t think #and the one I had to ask for today was literally not because of me but because of how my observations are set #so I wrote her like ‘hi I’ve been going to my observation but I only had enough content for one log’ #‘and I don’t see another class until after the two logs are due can I please get a few days so I can observe more and get it to you?’ #totally reasonable request but still terrifying cause if she said no I’d just get a zero on it #but she answered and said ‘that’s a totally reasonable request don’t worry about the date I’ll make a note in the grade book’ #scary for no reason

[kirietown]

Bad Boyfriend | Part Two

Pairing: atsumu x f!reader

Summary: you loved your boyfriend, you really did. but sometimes it felt that he couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort. however, after a dog attack, you find him changing for you in more ways than one.

Content: jealousy, possessiveness, blood, cream pie, smut, slow burn on the yandere stuff

18+

[prologue] [part one] [part two]

Word Count: 2.3k

a/n: so I added everyone to the tag list but for a few of u it didn’t work? I’m not sure why, maybe it’s something in your personal settings that’s interfering— hopefully it’ll be working for y’all by the next update.

     Campus was buzzing as you walked through with Atsumu by your side. Fall was always a busy time for students as it meant mid-terms and the begging of extensions through lengthy emails. You were surprised that Atsumu opted to show up instead of using the excuse of his injuries to stay in his dorm. But then again, it was nice to have him around, you turned your eyes over to get a look at him. Nothing was too out of the ordinary other than a slight shagginess to his hair, maybe. Aside from that he was his smiling self, occasionally greeting the frat boys who ran into you on your walk to class. A grin threatened to make its way onto your face as you noticed that although he greeted those that saw him— Atsumu didn’t stop in his trek with you. But rather kept his head down as the two of you marched on.

“You feeling alright?” You asked— not necessarily in a tone of concern but rather mild curiosity. Was this one of the changes he was talking about? You couldn’t say that you hated it.

“Yeah,” he replied, his brow quirking up. “Why? Something seem the matter?”

“No,” you said bemused. You didn’t elaborate, thinking it would shatter the illusion and Atsumu would go back to ditching you for whoever popped up next to congratulate him. The rest of the walk took place in relative silence, it was peaceful— another thing that was odd for your chatterbox boyfriend. Though once again— who were you to complain?

Finally making your way to the door of your lecture hall, you turned to nod your head in farewell only to pause as you noticed Atsumu didn’t stop. But rather you watched as he opened the door, leaving it up with his arm for you to follow him in. You did so in mild confusion as you asked; “don’t you have your own class to go to?”

He only shrugged his shoulders before he replied. “Yeah, but I don’t really needa go. And I thought why not just spend the day with you?” You stared at him for a moment, searching his eyes for annoyance or regret, but all you could find was a smile.

“Fine,” you said. “But the professor can be really boring— so don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, you gently clasped his hand in yours before leading him up the steps to the back of your lecture hall. The room was relatively spacious with long tables sat in front of each row of seats. As you made your way up, you smiled, noticing that your usual seatmate was already there.

“Hey Kenji,” you greeted casually, the grip Atsumu had on your hand tightened slightly before the two of you sat down with you seated between him and your classmate. Kenji nodded in return before quirking his brow at Atsumu. “Oh, this is Atsumu,” you said. “I’ve mentioned him before, he just wants to hang around. Hope you don’t mind, right?”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he replied brushing back his dark hair. “I mean it’s not like the two of us get much work done in class anyways.” He added with a grin, bringing out a laugh from you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The sudden inquiry from Atsumu caused you to turn to face him. Your brows furrowed at the sight of him, strangely enough his expression was eerily calm. Yet right away you noted the way his fists were clenched in his lap.

“Oh, honestly the two of us slack off every class,” you replied sheepishly.

“Yeah, my notes are filled with our doodles of hangman, tic tac toe and whatever other games we played to kill time,” Kenji added, taking out his notebook and flipping through the various pages of scribbles and doodles.

“What happened to you being studious?” He asked.

You frowned, unsure of why he’d bring up the fact that between the two of you, you were the one to focus on schoolwork. Before you could reply however, Kenji cut in, a grin wide across his face.

“Honestly between the two of us y/n puts most of the work in. But also these lectures are pretty useless— he just reads off the slides, which are posted online after class. I don’t think anyone would bother showing up if not for the random surprise quizzes he hits us with every once in a while.”

“I was talking to her, wasn’t I? Not sure why you feel so comfortable talking in her place,” Atsumu said. Your eyes widened in embarrassment as you turned to face him again. Again, he didn’t look too out of the ordinary however, the grin that painted his face was malicious in a way. It was strange, his teeth were almost bared, and had it not been for the quirk in the corners of his lips— you would’ve called it a snarl.

You could tell Kenji had grown uncomfortable. His jaw slightly slackened, and dark brows raised in disbelief.

“He’s just joking around,” you laughed, hoping to fix the atmosphere. “Kind of a thing he does, you know, intimidating new people? But really he’s just a softie.” Your words only seemed to just subtly cause your seatmate to relax, but luckily the professor opening his mouth to speak seemed to dispense any lingering tension.

Through that class, the two of you took notes diligently for once, all while Atsumu sat next to you. His posture stiff, expression stoic, and you might’ve thought he was just paying attention to the lecture if not for the clenched fists in his lap. Knuckles nearly sheet white from the stress he was applying.

By the time class ended, you were practically out the door, not even glancing to see if Atsumu was following— you knew he was. He caught up to you quickly, still oddly silent. You turned your head a bit to see that his hands were no longer clenched tightly.

You gripped his hand, eyes widening slightly in shock at the feeling of moistness greeting your skin, before you led him into an empty seminar room. The room was small, big enough to fit 10 people with a massive desk dead centre which took up most of the space. You leaned back and allowed yourself to sit on the desk, using the back of a chair to hold up your thighs.

“This room is empty for the rest of the day— Kenji found it, and we use it to study every once in a while since the library is always booked,” you explained after seeing his eyes trace the room in confusion.

“Is that all you do here?” He scoffed. “Study?” That look was still in his eyes, eerie still and fully focused on you. It felt like you were locked into a trance before you finally were able to bring yourself to speak.

“I’m not even going to respond to that,” you replied. “What’s going on? You were a total dick to Kenji, and you’re being weird and aggressive.”

“Aggressive? Ya serious now?”

You lifted your palm up, revealing the streak of his blood that marked your skin. His brows knitted together, before he looked down at his palms, taking in the sight of dried blood from his nails digging into his flesh.

“I guess… I…”

“I know you ‘Tsumu… Someone who doesn’t would probably just pin you as the jealous boyfriend but that’s not you, baby. What’s going on?” Your voice was tender, eyes soft as he walked closer towards you. You grabbed his hand, careful not to brush your fingers over the indents left in his palm— you made note to yourself to get his hands cleaned up as soon as possible.

“You were gonna leave me,” he said.

“What?”

“I know that we,” he sighed. “Basically talked ‘bout it… But I guess the thoughts are still runnin’ round my head… You were gonna break up with me— Hell, you basically did, if not for… Y’know.” His eyes were downcast, refusing to meet yours, even as you brushed your thumbs over his knuckles to soothe his worries. “I feel like I got lucky with that dumb dog, that if not for it, then your little jokes with Kenji—” the name rolled off his tongue in disgust nearly. “— could’ve changed… Just the idea that you could’ve left me and had anyone you wanted. Someone better than me just… I wanna throw up, that’s how bad it feels…”

“‘Tsumu,” you murmured. His only response was to dip his face even lower, as if to hide from you. “I still love you, you know that right?”

He was silent for a moment before responding, “yeah…”

“Puppy,” his breath hitched. Your hands moved to pull on the strings of his hoodie, pushing the chair between you to the side with your thighs before bringing him into a hug. With his head snug in your neck you continued, “I can’t apologize for that… You hurt me so so much, ya know?”

He groaned, his breath tickling your throat, “I know.”

“We’re still together now, so that means something…” Your voice trailed off into a moan, Atsumu’s hands gently biting into your neck as his arms circled around you. You giggled, “how are we supposed to talk about anything serious if you turn it into sex all the time?”

“Sex is serious too,” he murmured. “And I meant what I said,” his groin suddenly pressed into the space between your thighs as his fingers made their way to unzip your jeans. “It bothered me a lot… I just forgot to mention that it was in more ways than one, ya know?” He teased, and before you could reply a gasp ripped out your throat. His fingers had entered you without prep, prodding their way inside before thrusting back and forth, loosening up your walls.

“God,” he groaned. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, and it’s all for me, baby, Right?”

You whimpered only for him to bite your neck harsher than before, “c’mon, use your big girl words,” he whispered.

“It—It’s all for you, ‘Tsumu.” Your tone was cracked, arms wrapped around his shoulders as he drove you to pleasure with every brush of his palm against your aching clit. “Please…”

“Please what? What did I tell ya about usin’ your words?”

“I… I want your cock,” you squealed as he added a third finger inside you. His fingers were long and thick, but nothing compared to what you really wanted. Your hands moved, feeling up his shoulders before sliding down his torso and fumbling to unbuckle his belt. A laugh emerged from his throat at your desperation, much to your embarrassment.

“Fine, fine,” he teased. His head now right in front of you, as pulled his fingers out to get his pants off, not before licking your slickness off first. You squealed at the sight, only to bring back his laughter. Humiliated, you barely noticed the sensation of your jeans being pulled off, awkwardly hanging by your ankles until you opted to kick off your shoes along with them. “Aren’t ya eager today? Coulda sworn it was you tryna say that I was the one who turned everything into sex.”

Instead of answering, you pulled him in closer to you. Your lips traced his as his hips grinded into yours, you could feel the hard length of his cock brush against your folds. You opened your legs wider and allowed for him to guide it into you, and even with the help of his fingers from before, you couldn’t help but wince against his teeth and grip his shoulders as he slid all the way in. He settled there for a moment, focused on the way his tongue swirled with yours before he moved. His pace was erratic, the table shaking with every thrust of his hips as he fucked your hole. Little gasps darted out of you with every move, and a near scream ripped out of your throat as his fingers moved to work your clit.

“Fuck,” he snarled. “Say my name, fuck, fuck, I’m so close.”

“‘Tsumu, ‘tsumu, ‘tsumu,” you babbled with every thrust of his cock. The name was almost like a prayer as it tumbled out of your mouth in waves. The words practically lost impact as it began to melt into the next. The feeling of his cock drilling into you as well as the sensation of his rough fingers pressing into your swollen clit drove you closer and closer to your orgasm until the bubbling sensation in your stomach finally exploded into absolute pleasure. A moan ripped out of your throat, signalling your end. Though Atsumu didn’t stop as he moved his hands to grip your hips. His hold tightened painfully as he neared his end with a growl, his cum filling you to the brim, not daring to trickle out with his cock still buried into you.

“I hope nobody heard us,” you laughed. Though awkwardly, you paused, noting that Atsumu’s attention was on where his cock was— still buried into you. His eyes were absent as he aimlessly rubbed his palms over your inner thighs, spreading them as if to get a better look at your pussy.

“‘Tsumu,” you whined. “Stop, that’s embarrassing…” Your pleas seemed to have snapped him out of his trance. He grinned sheepishly before pulling out gently, aware of how sensitive you’d feel down there.

“You’re just so pretty, ya know?” He said, pulling his pants back up.

You rolled your eyes before you replied, “yeah, well it sure wasn’t my face you were admiring…”

He only grinned, focused on the buckle of his jeans. You smiled, though it quickly dropped as you noticed the blood smeared across your inner thighs. None your own, though it was still enough to spook you especially with the sight of cum trickling out of you.

“Face, pussy, whatever— it’s all mine at the end of the day, ain’t that right? Just gotta be sure to leave my mark.”

Tag list: @captain-toaster-man ,  @my-reality-is-in-my-head​ , @popi-the-fatui​ , @thatpotatobitch @megumitodoroki​ @princessorlagh​ @sypsypie​ @ariana-neko , @nanamikentcs​ @k0genn , @schoenheitvil @ro2424​ @marima15 , @miyakiniku​ , @1sillylittlething @basicinstnct

#atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere atsumu #haikyuu x reader #atsumu smut #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu smut #kirietownwrites

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Teddy Bear (H.HJ)

Word Count : 2513

Warnings : mentions of sexual assault, therapy, insomnia, nightmares

Synopsis : after multiple assaults, her mind is plagued with nightmares making it difficult to sleep. lucky for her, best friend Hyunjin offers to essentially be her teddy bear and protect her from all the monsters, real and imaginary. unlucky though, she realizes that her feelings aren't all that platonic after all.

Author's Note : thank you to anon for this request. I would just like to say I know everyone's experiences are different, but I wrote this based on my own experiences with SA, nightmares, and therapy. If anyone, absolutely anyone, needs to talk, do not be afraid to message me. My inbox is always open. You're not alone. I also just want to say that I am still working on the other requests I have received. I am officially on break from work for a while so I have a lot more time to write. So keep your eyes out because I'm posting a lot more often!

“Sounds like things are getting better.” Her therapist smiled, causing her to smile back, happiness spreading through her entire body. “How are the nightmares these days?” Her smile fell as she remembered all the sleepless nights, kept awake by the memories plaguing her mind every second of the day.

She remembered collapsing due to exhaustion in front of her best friend. How Hyunjin looked at her with so much concern when she woke up. You should have told me you were having nightmares, Y/n. She remembers him telling her, wiping away the tears that were streaming down her face. Call me if you can’t sleep. I’ll rush over here and fight off all the monsters in your mind. “Better now.” She finally answered, blinking back the tears that wanted so badly to fall.

“That’s great news! Now, remember you only have to tell me what you want, so if you want to, I’d love to hear how you’re fighting these nightmares.”

She thought back to the first night she called Hyunjin. Sitting in her bed, sweat mixing with her tears, staring at his contact. It was nearing two in the morning and she knew he had practice early that morning. But every time she closed her eyes, she could see her attackers face smirking at her like he won.

And in a way he did. He plagues her mind. She can’t sleep because of him. She can feel herself going insane, and she knows the people around her can see it. All her professors have given her extensions on her projects once the news hit the media. Her classmates, people she’s never bothered talking to before, looked at her with pity. Like she was weak, fragile, seconds away from breaking.

But she was done with letting him win. Hyunjin makes her feel safe. So she calls him. And within seconds he answered the phone, telling her he was on his way. Can we stay on the phone until you’re here? She had asked, Hyunjin agreeing immediately. Anything to make her feel better.

“I got a teddy bear.” She finally answered. Her therapist furrowed her brows together before asking how the bear helps her with the nightmares. “He’s really cuddly. And because of that he makes me feel safe. As long as I’m touching him in some way, it’s like the nightmares don’t exist. He promised to fight all the monsters plaguing my mind, and he’s doing a really good job.”

“How was therapy?” Hyunjin asked as the two of them left the office, walking towards the car. So many thoughts were running through her mind that she barely comprehended the question he asked. “Y/n?” She looked up at him, studying the look of concern in his eyes. She stared at him more intently than she ever has before. She stared at him until she didn’t see her best friend anymore.

She saw Hwang Hyunjin, visual, rapper, and dancer of Stray Kids. She saw what their fans saw. The handsome prince that gives his all in everything he does, including his friendships. Even the mask he was wearing couldn’t hide his handsome features. Since when has he been this handsome?

“Must have been a tough session. Let’s go get some food.” He slung his arm across her shoulders, practically dragging her the rest of the way to the car. She couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks, so she looked away in hopes Hyunjin wouldn’t notice.

“Minho is going fry you in the air fryer if you miss practice, Jinnie.” She warned him as the two of them climbed into the back of the car, Hyunjin telling the driver her favourite restaurant to eat at when she’s down. “Jinnie, no. You need to go to practice.” She whined in hopes Hyunjin would change his mind, but he didn’t.

“Minho hyung will understand, Y/n, okay? You need me so I’m here.” The tears fell before she could stop them, causing Hyunjin to immediately jump into action, asking her what was wrong as he wiped away her tears.

“I’m so grateful for you, Jinnie.” She sniffled. Hyunjin halted his actions, looking at his best friend, his first love, with a small smile on his face, before chuckling and shaking his head at her.

“Don’t scare me like that again, Y/n.”

~

She woke up from her nightmare, sobbing into her hands as she asked why. Why was he still haunting her? Why did he do it in the first place? Why wasn’t she over the nightmares?

She reached for her phone before stopping, remembering that Stray Kids had an important meeting in the morning. She could survive one night without Hyunjin. She’s already bothered him everyday for a month. He’s probably sick of her by now. So instead of calling Hyunjin, she played some soft music and tried to get back to sleep.

She tossed and turned, her attackers face staring right back at her every time she closed her eyes. She was desperate for sleep, begging the universe to let her off easy just this once. But when her alarm went off, she still hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. Proud of you, pretty girl. You slept through the night without me there! I’m going to pick you up from class today since we have a free day after the meeting. Love you and see you soon!

She typed and deleted and retyped a million different messages before sending a generic, Can’t wait, love you too Jinnie. A part of her wanted to skip class; tell Hyunjin just to meet her at her dorm so she wouldn’t have to deal with people. But he’d ask questions, and she didn’t want him to know that she didn’t sleep at all. She’s not recovering. She’s not getting better. But he was proud of her. And those words alone brought tears to her eyes. What was there to be proud of?

“There’s my pretty girl!!” He exclaimed, hiding his face the best he could so no one swarmed them. “I was thinking of bringing you to the dorms today. The boys miss you and would love to see you!” Her body felt like it was going to give out on her any second, and the very thought of being in a house filled with 8 loud, clingy boys made her even more tired.

“I’m too tired for all of them today, Jinnie.” She pouted. “I was really excited to just go back to my dorm and cuddle.”

“Was it a long day today?” She shook her head. “Then did you have a difficult test?” She shook her head again. “You didn’t sleep last night, did you.” Hyunjin always knew her best. He was always the person to know when she was lying, ever since they were kids. It truly was a blessing, but right now it felt like a curse. “Why didn’t you call me?” His voice was louder than before, causing a few of the students exiting from the building to look at them.

“Can we talk about this when we’re in the safety of my dorm?” She begged, looking around her as if someone was going to leak Hyunjin’s secret life on the internet.

“Fine. But we’re talking about this.”

~

“Now speak.” He said as soon as her door was shut and locked. She tossed her bag on the floor beside her bed before flopping onto her bed. “You told me you’d call me whenever you couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry, Jinnie.” She sat up as Hyunjin sat next to her, brushing the hair out of her face. “I didn’t want to bother you. You had an important meeting this morning. I didn’t want to wake you.” She looked down at her hands as she picked at the skin around her nails, unable to look up at Hyunjin.

“Hey, pretty girl, look at me.” He placed his pointer finger under her chin, making her meet his eyes. With his other hand, he wiped away the single tear that began rolling down her cheek. “You’re never a bother to me, okay?”

“Even when I call you everyday for a month straight because of stupid nightmares?”

“Your nightmares aren’t stupid, Y/n. You went through hell for a very long time. And you did it alone. I wasn’t there for you then, but I’m here for you now. Let me be here. Let me protect you.”

It hit her then. The butterflies. The racing heart. The need to be with him at all times. The feeling of protection whenever he was around. The giddiness whenever it was just the two of them.

As she sat next to her best friend on the bed in her dorm, she came to the realization that maybe her feelings weren’t all that platonic. Somewhere along the way, she fell in love with her best friend. And the feelings were exploding inside of her, demanding to be heard. Demanding to be felt.

And before she could stop herself, she was leaning in, placing her lips on Hyunjin’s in a quick peck before pulling away and running to her bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Hyunjin sat there, completely shocked by the events that just transpired. When he came to his senses, he immediately ran to the bathroom door, softly knocking on it, begging her to open the door. He could hear her muffled sniffles, a sign she was crying but didn’t want him to know. “Pretty girl.” He spoke softly.

“You can leave, Hyunjin. I’ll understand.” She said, trying her best to sound okay. Like she wasn’t about to sob. Like her heart wasn’t hurting at the idea of no longer having Hyunjin to turn to. Why did she have to kiss him? He’s one of the most wanted men in the country, able to have whoever he wanted. Why would he want her?

“I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl. You don’t have to come out until you’re ready. But I will be on the other side of this door until you do.” She could hear him plop onto the ground outside the door.

And so the two of them sat back to back with a door in between them. In complete silence. The only sounds were her sniffling that was slowing down. Hyunjin was happy to hear her cries slowly stopping. But she still made no movements to leave the bathroom, so he continued to sit and wait.

She wanted him to give up. She wanted him to leave so she could exit the bathroom and cry herself to sleep on her bed. She was exhausted and heartbroken, but she was stuck in her washroom unless she wanted to face the inevitable rejection. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. She would be eventually, but not today. Definitely not today. Not when she’s just come to terms with the fact that she’s in love with him.

“We’re going to have to talk eventually, you know.” Hyunjin spoke up from the other side of the door. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t leaving, Y/n.”

“Just reject me from there and go home, Hyunjin.” He was confused at first before remembering the kiss she gave him before locking herself in the bathroom. And that’s when he realized why she was hiding. She was embarrassed. She was worried. She was scared.

But there was no reason to be. Hyunjin has been in love with her since high school. She was the one that encouraged him to chase his dream, even when their other friends told him he’d never make it. She was the one that he turned to every time one of the other trainees looked down on his skill, telling him to just use his looks to debut. She’s the entire reason he’s apart of Stray Kids in the first place.

“I’m not going to reject you, Y/n.” She picked her head up from her knees at his words. Does that mean… “You know, I always pictured saying this for the first time to your face. But pretty girl, I’ve-“ Before he could finish his sentence, he was falling back into the bathroom as she opened the door.

“Don’t say it, Jinnie.” He quickly got to his feet, looking at her in confusion. “If you’re only going to say it to make me feel better, don’t say it. Please.” He cupped her face, wiping away the remnants of her tears.

“I’m in love with you.” He told her softly with a small smile on his face. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time now. So you don’t have to worry about rejection. Because you are the only person on this planet I will never reject.” He leaned closer, hesitating for only a second, before placing his lips on hers.

~

She woke up the next morning, wrapped in Hyunjin’s arms. She was used to this after waking up beside him for an entire month. But when she went to get up, Hyunjin pulled her back into bed, closer to his body, which was new. “Jinnie, I have to pee.” She whined as she tried to pry his arms off her body.

“But I don’t want to let go.” She rolled her eyes at her clingy boyfriend, but also couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was.

“I will come right back.” He puckered his lips, but she didn’t indulge him, still trying to get out of his arms before she peed herself. “Hyunjin please.”

“One kiss.” He pouted before puckering his lips again.

“Since when did you become so clingy?” She giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips. He removed his arms, allowing her to get up.

“Since I confessed and no longer had to hide how much I love you and want to hold you and kiss you.” He called after her. She couldn’t help the blush that now dusted across her cheeks, her heart skipping a beat. She wishes she realized she loved him sooner, because now they have so much lost time to make up for.

She crawled back into his arms, pressing another kiss to his lips. “I’m so lucky to be loved by you, Jinnie.” She told him softly. He opened his eyes to look at her, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.

“Me falling for you was inevitable, pretty girl. You falling for me? That’s what’s lucky.” She could argue back with him, but she knew Hyunjin far too well. He was stubborn, evident by his sitting outside the bathroom for 3 hours the day before. So she let him win. But she knew in her heart that she truly was the lucky one. Falling in love with her best friend was far from the plan she had in her mind, but sometimes plans change. And dating Hyunjin? That was the best change she could have ever asked for.

With one final kiss pressed to his lips, she rested her head on his chest, slowly dozing off to the sound of his heartbeat.

#stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids au #stray kids #skz imagine #skz x reader #skz au #skz #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin au #bang chan #lee minho #lee know #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #lee yongbok #kim seungmin #yang jeongin

[sukisdeliveryservice]

hello!! could i kindly request for a student campus crush! wonwoo hehe and you’re best friends and have unrequited feelings but u dont know if he feels the same so over a sleepover u tried confessing and you can continue from there hehe -🐼

let me hear you say | j. ww

✎ pairing: best friend!wonwoo x female reader

✎ genre: collegel!au, friends to lovers!au, mostly fluff

✎ warnings: none!

✎ wc: 2.40 k words

✎ notes: hi 🐼 anon! i got a little carried away with this one because soft, cuddly wonwoo makes my stomach do flips but i hope you like it! i'm not sure how i feel about my portrayal of yn here because i wanted them to be really supportive of wonwoo but kind of having a hard time because of their feelings towards him. i hope i was able to express that without portraying them as kind of eh :/

“Don’t you ever get tired?” You take a quick glance at your best friend as he folds up another piece of paper with a phone number written on it.

“Of what?”

“Of everyone in this school falling head over heels for you,” You say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, proceeding to look back down at your notes. In reality, you were trying to prevent yourself from looking at the cute (albeit, confused) way your best friend was staring at you over your abrupt question.

“Well I can’t say I’m not flattered, but there aren’t really that many people yn,”

A total lie, you think to yourself. Every time you two walked around campus, your best friend attracted the adoring stares of all your classmates like some hotshot celebrity. Yes, he was popular, and yes, he totally deserved it, but if everyone knew how dorky he was, maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to hand him their number after a single conversation.

Another lie, if everyone knew what a nerd Jeon Wonwoo actually was, they’d probably fall for him harder. You would know of course, first hand experience taught you a lot of things.

It taught you how endearing it was when Wonwoo wore oversized clothing, so that he could pull the sleeves over his palms when sipping on a hot drink at the local campus cafe. It made you realize his habit of pushing his glasses up his nose, because he was too stubborn to get the bridge adjusted. It made your insides melt whenever he was nervous because he had a habit of fiddling with his fingers. You were certain that if anyone was completely head over heels and absolutely smitten by him, it was definitely you.

“Not many people my ass,” you scoffed, “you spoke to her once, just once! And now you are holding her number.” Wonwoo laughs at your poor attempt at hiding your annoyance, “For your information, we were talking about a group project, and exchanging contact information. Nothing more, and nothing less.”

You gave a little huff before going back to pretend-studying, you definitely couldn’t focus when he was sitting right across from you. You knew you were more prone to jumping to conclusions nowadays, and you hoped that Wonwoo didn’t notice your shift in behaviour. In reality, you couldn’t help but feel a little pang of worry whenever your best friend was asked out on another date. And while he rejected the offer every time, you worried that one day he might say yes and you could lose him forever.

Not that you were against Wonwoo falling in love someday. If he found a good person that he wanted to be with for the rest of his life, you would support him in a heartbeat. It was just the selfish feeling that blossomed in your chest that prevented you from feeling any true happiness for these kinds of situations, and you hated it.

You knew that he would never abandon you completely, because Wonwoo was the best friend you could ever ask for. But you also knew that it would kill you inside to see him sweep someone else off their feet.

You’ve known Wonwoo since high school, and you definitely harboured a puppy crush on him all of first year. This was back when he was still trading pokemon cards in the gym stairwell and poking at you to buy him something from the milk vending machine. The crush went away eventually and you found yourself enjoying the rest of your high school career with your closest confidant by your side.

Once you both entered university, Wonwoo had a sudden growth spurt that now put him a total head taller than you. He no longer lurked at the stairwells during lunch and instead made lots of new friends that he went out for coffee with. He started dressing nicer, and once he exchanged his old glasses for a pair of round silver ones that rested on his nose so perfectly, he instantly transformed into someone straight out of a kdrama.

Now, you have caught feelings again. And you’re scared to admit that this time a puppy crush doesn’t even encapsulate everything you’ve been feeling lately. Of course Wonwoo’s sudden change in appearance didn’t spark anything new in your feelings towards him. It was the fact that he had a new air around him that was just completely different.

Wonwoo in high school was shy, and you loved him for who he was. You two had your own small circle of friends and you would spend all your time reading or playing games in his bedroom. Wonwoo in college however, was breaking out of his shell and being the first to approach people and make new friends. He was still introverted of course, shyness and introvertedness were two different things after all. But you were proud to see Wonwoo take the initiative to make plans more often and reach out.

Wonwoo has also gotten a lot more comfortable around you. He’s grown fond of resting his head on your shoulder after a long day of classes, and wrapping you in his sweaters whenever you came by his flat. In conclusion, everything about university student Wonwoo, was driving you, (and probably the entire campus) crazy.

“Hello? yn? Don’t you have a class soon?”

You swat away the hand that was waving in front of your face to meet the eyes of the cause of all your heart troubles. One smile from Wonwoo and you were in shambles. You had it really, really bad. “Right, right, sorry I was just...distracted.”

“We’re still on for tonight right? You can just head straight to my dorm after your last class.”

“Of course Won, did you really think I was going to miss out on another rewatch of Extraordinary You?”

“Of course not,” Wonwoo chuckled. You were met with another one of those soft gazes from him, and you immediately tried to break your stare. Something in your heart tells you that you should just confess right now, and that Wonwoo was a sensible individual who wouldn’t let go of your friendship if he didn’t feel the same way.

“Hey Won, can I tell you something after class later?”

“Of course.” There was that smile again. If you weren���t so busy trying to slow your heart rate down, you would have caught the way his eyes brightened at hearing your question, and the way he looked down to twindle with his fingers.

You give Wonwoo your own smile before heading off to your last detour of the day.

Sleepovers with Wonwoo always consisted of a mountain of blankets, a never ending pile of snacks and a show to watch before eventually both of you fell asleep. When you arrived at his flat just as he was adding the finishing touches to a home cooked dinner, you realized that sleepovers with Wonwoo also consisted of another thing: Your tragic inability to keep your heart rate down.

“Dinner will be ready in a bit, you can just wash up and get changed for now,” Wonwoo turns to greet you before adding some pepper to the tteokbokki.

You nod and head over to his bathroom, where you already find your change of clothes resting on the counter. Any outsider would have been under the impression that you and Wonwoo lived together, considering that pieces of you were scattered all over his apartment. From the matching toothbrushes that were kept by the sink, to the drawer reserved only for your clothes in his bedroom.

The only reason that you and Wonwoo didn’t room together upon entering university, was the fact that your parents were wary of you rooming with a boy you weren’t even dating. Not that it mattered now, considering that you at least spent two nights at his place away from your own dorm.

After you showered and changed into your pajamas, you realized that Wonwoo had given you one of his sweaters to wear, instead of the usual shirts you slept in. Usually you would have raided his bedroom after dinner to steal one (you slept much better when you wore his clothing) but this time it appeared that he had taken the initiative for you.

Once you stepped out of the bathroom, you saw that Wonwoo was already sitting at the dining table and was on his phone. It looked like he was texting someone, and you felt your heart sink a little when he laughed at a message. No, you are not going to be jealous. You are going to be happy for your friend because he deserves all the happiness in the world.

“Is that the girl from your group project?” You sat down across from him and started piling the tteokbokki and rice onto your plate. “Yeah, she said that the professor just sent out a mass email to our class, saying that we were going to be given an extension. Turns out that email was meant for another course, but everyone is already celebrating the new deadline.”

Wonwoo shuts off his phone and turns to you, “Was there something you wanted to tell me today?”

Right. You were going to confess your feelings. It was now or never, and you weren’t sure if you could hold it in much longer. “I can just tell you after dinner, I’m starving.”

Tragic. Tragic. Tragic. Why couldn’t you just say the words, “Hey Won, I have feelings for you, do you feel the same way?” Must you be in a spiraling paradox of questioning the presence of unrequited love in the relationship you had with your best friend? Yes, most definitely yes. Since the world likes to make everything difficult for those in love.

Dinner was eaten in a comfortable silence for the most part. You liked that you never felt the need to fill the air with more conversation whenever you were with Wonwoo. There were days where you would just sit in each other’s presence and do your own thing, and those days left you with lots of time to ponder on your feelings for him. Tonight was the night that you were going to say these feelings aloud for the first time...you just needed a bit more time to procrastinate.

After you both finished your food, you relocated yourselves to the couch. You fidgeted with the end of your (his) sweater while Wonwoo searched for the show on Netflix. You figured that you would let him know in the morning, since there was a chance that you two would fall asleep before the episode ended. And you didn’t want to confess beforehand either, in fear of having to endure a brutal one hour of awkward tension if he didn’t feel the same way.

“Who would have thought that out of all the days the wifi could have chosen to bail on us, they chose the day where we were going to find out whether Haru belonged to Dan-oh’s story or not,” Wonwoo fiddles with the remote some more, while you panic in silence at the thought of spending the night with no distractions from your feelings.

“It’s not like we don’t already know how it ends,” You take deep quiet breaths to calm yourself down, you can definitely make it through the night, “We can just do other things.”

“What do you have in mind?”

You couldn’t answer him right away. The only thing you had on your mind was the fact that Wonwoo’s hand was now resting on your knee and that it was baffling how good he could look in pajamas. Wonwoo, sensing your inability to form words nervously glanced up at you before moving the conversation in a different direction, “Look, I know you had something to tell me today yn, but I realized that I wanted to share something with you too. I am in love-”

“I am in love with you Jeon Wonwoo!”

There. You blurted out a long-awaited confession before the anticipation consumed you whole. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from your hands in fear of seeing the look on Wonwoo’s face.

“Let me hear you say it again.”

“What?” You turn to Wonwoo, who no longer looked nervous. Instead, he wore the biggest shit-eating grin on his face that made you want to both kiss and strangle him. “Say it again.”

“Not when you look like you just won the lottery you nerd, you didn’t even say-”

“I am in love with you too yn.”

Well, you were never one to complain about the fact that your feelings were returned. But the way Wonwoo was cooing at your adorable expression of shock only made you want to shove him off the couch.

Which you proceeded to do.

“Hey! Aren’t you happy that I like you too?”

“Of course I’m happy! You didn’t have to try to beat me to my confession though, tonight was going to be my night!”

“You didn’t seem like you were going to say anything for the rest of the evening! You were going to wait until the next day weren’t you?”

Absolutely yes. “No!”

Any remaining tension in the atmosphere washed away as you and Wonwoo made fun of each other on the living room floor. You were beyond relieved and a little giddy that your best friend in the whole wide world saw you in the way that you saw him.

“But on a more serious note Won, were you also going to confess tonight too?”

“Actually no, but once you came out of the washroom wearing my sweater, I just had to say it before I tackled you with cuddles or something.”

“You gave me your sweater instead of my clothes to wear!”

“I know!” Wonwoo was holding your hand now and rubbing circles into your palm. The idea of cuddling the entire night didn’t sound so bad. “But you looked all nervous and shy and I was hoping that you were going to be the one to say something first.”

“Can we just agree that we confessed at the same time?” As the adrenaline from the confession began to slip away you suddenly became very tired, and you were hoping to just spend the night in the arms of your favourite person.

“Deal. So can we cuddle now?”

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #wonwoo #chanberriees request #chanberriees fic #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

From an innocent childhood friendship to a juvenile high school rivalry to a forced pairing for a Psychology paper, it seems you and Mark just can’t avoid each other. But something’s a little different now.

genre: fluff, angst (a little bit), suggestive themes, childhood friends (barely mentioned!) to enemies to lovers, college!au

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

hi!!! this is my first work nd I’m really excited to put this out I’d looove if you could give it a read :^) hound me on my inbox if u wanna i take anything

“Remember when we were best friends in fifth grade?”

His voice is a little quiet, and there’s a very obvious undertone of boredom, but you hum softly anyway, nodding, as if to question why you would ever forget. Fifth grade was a suburban brew of Star Wars marathons, figuring out the world, and Harry Potter merchandise littering your house. Fifth grade was lemonade and oatmeal, knitted sweaters, and sneaking into your mom’s vanity to swipe her makeup. And fifth grade was Mark—bright eyed, geeky Mark, with his Death Star replica and weird electronica music. 

Mark, who had an affinity with Troy from High School Musical and Spiderman, and wanted to be just like them. Mark, who would show up grinning to your front door everyday, pie dish in his nimble grip. He was the one who had opened a lemonade stand at the corner of your block so he could buy you the Gryffindor scarf you’d been nagging your mom about the entire holiday season. He was the one who learned the chords to your favorite Jonas Brothers song and sang it to you each time you requested it.

“Yes, I do,” you answer instead, clearing your throat. 

You attempt to push down all the memories that just ran through your head and adjust the grip you have on your pen. “Well,” Mark continues, “that was ages ago. Beats me why it ever happened.” 

The timidity is replaced with a tidal wave of teasing, and the annoyance that had disappeared is beginning to crawl all over you. Again. You roll your eyes and pull up the slides your professor had assigned. “Beats me why we even ended up in the same university, let alone the same class,” you jab, “if you thought I forgot about how you outright failed our Spanish classes in high school, I didn’t.”

Your friendship with Mark had reached its unfortunate demise to the hands of middle school, where you had branched out with your interests and began to stick to societal (as societal as school can get) norms. He had joined the geeky, cool kids; you hadn’t joined a specific social circle, but you had a best friend, Lia, and you were generally good with everybody. 

Somehow, despite you both being in good graces with everyone, you had a deep-seated dislike for one another that stemmed from an intense academic rivalry. Specifically, the competition to become school council president. That had ended now, seeing as though you were both in college, but the abrasiveness of your banter had never worn off.

“Oh, because you were so good at Physics?” he says, voice even. His brow is raised. “We all have our strong suits, you know. You’re one to talk.” You decide to pay him no mind, instead jotting down the criteria for your final project in Psychology 1—something about the stages of grief. You’re supposed to relate it to a different human process and show how they fit with one another. 

It’s absolute fucking bullshit, and the fact that Mark Lee became your partner among a hundred students is beyond you. Absolutely beyond you. 

He nears your screen, reading the content of your project, eyes squinted—you’d noticed his lack of decent eyesight years ago, but it seemingly hadn’t improved. “Relate the stages of grief…hold up, what? That’s difficult as hell. What are we supposed to do, lose a loved one?” You roll your eyes, turning to him. “No, Mark. The point is to find another process that happens gradually and relate it to this—denial, bargaining, anger. Get it?”

He stares back at you. “No.”

You groan audibly, turning back to your notebook. “This is impossible. Can we just switch partners so I won’t have to deal with you?” He smirks, kicking his feet up on the library table. Absently, you note how nice his sneakers look. Reclining onto the seat, he shuts his eyes as if to contemplate. 

“I heard through the birdvine our professor’s the type to pair up people she thinks would look good together for shits and giggles. Girls and boys, boys and boys, you name it. Johnny”—he’s referring to a guy who’s a year above yours, studying Biology—“tells me over five couples have been born out of this class. Isn’t that nice?” You scoff, scrolling mindlessly through the slides to keep yourself distracted. 

“It really is. A shame we won’t be adding to that list, because I can’t fucking stand you.” He laughs loudly, the vibration of it remaining in the deadly silent air. “I can stand fucking you, though,” he says, and then, before you can even blush, “All jokes. Don’t get your hopes up, ‘kay?” He’s quick to get up, just as flustered as you are at the uncharacteristic phrase that just left his mouth. He collects his jacket and jogs out of the library with a small, half-assed bye under his breath.

—

Lia’s eyes bore into yours. “He actually said that? I’m telling you, he’s some weird kinky guy under that whole cool geek persona. High school Mark would never have. Oh my god. He’s a furry—he’s a furry!” She flops back onto your bed, laughing. You poke at her waist in protest. 

“It’s because he’s surrounded by too many weird classy fuckboys. You know, those that think that they’re all that because they haven’t roofied a girl.” You’re half-joking, and you’re really only referring to maybe two guys you’ve happened to see Mark with. As if to read your mind, Lia continues. “Hey, I heard some of them are okay. They’re not, like…those ‘nice guys’, if you get me.”

“I do,” you quip. “But I guess I’m just trying to find a way to justify the whole 360 in Mark. I mean, in high school, he was still nerdy—well, you know. Shy. But jump to sophomore year of uni and he’s suddenly some…” You rack your head for a proper term. “Sex god?” your friend asks, holding in a laugh. “Oh, eat shit,” you fire back, “really, eat shit. And while you’re at it, feed me some, too, because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to turn in at the end of the term. Like, Jes—”

There’s a faint knock at the door, and then. “Lia? It’s—uh, it’s me, Daniel? Er, Daniel Choi.” Your wide eyes can’t possibly match Lia’s as she tugs on a decent-looking pullover and puts it on. As she swings the door open, you manage to sufficiently hide yourself under your duvet and attempt to hear their conversation. 

“You know, it’s okay if you leave out the whole…saying your full name at the door part. Trust me…I know you,” she jokes, and you hear him laugh before you detect the crinkling of a plastic bag. “Chinese. Uh, I bought some extra for your best friend, because I’m not gonna pretend I don’t see the sentient blob on the bed.”

You pull the blanket off and smile sheepishly. “Hey, Daniel,” you say, “thanks for the food. I owe you an empty room next time, I swear by it. It’ll be easy, since I’m gonna be”—you heave yourself off the bed and onto the floor, where they’re both sitting—“holed up at the library for the next few weeks.” 

Lia nods, chewing her chow mein, and then when she’s done, she explains to Daniel your whole huge Psychology end-of-term paper about stages and grief and whatever, oh also she’s partnered with Mark Lee, this guy that we both know from high school, and she dislikes his guts, oh you know him? 

“Wait. You know him?” You repeat, and Daniel nods, ruffling his black mullet. “His room’s, like, three away from mine. He’s studying Theoretical Physics, right? Yeah, he’s always in his room doing school shit, but every weekend he’s out with the upperclassmen. He’s probably out now, ‘cause it’s Friday. How he even charmed them, though, is a mystery.”

Mid-dumpling, you roll your eyes. “Y’know, the hardest part is being partnered with him. But also, even finding what kind of gradual process to relate denial and anger too is weirdly hard. It feels like I could find something, but I haven’t gotten it…quite…” you trail off, your eyes landing on Lia and Daniel across you—they’re smiling softly at each other, and you distinguish their fingers interlocking quietly, as if you wouldn’t notice. 

“…yet. Except maybe I have. How would you want to participate in my end-of-term paper?” Their gazes turn to yours, and you nod frantically. “Oh my god, I’m a genius! Seriously! Falling in love! Yes! It’s denial—anger—whatever, whatever! It makes perfect sense. The end is acceptance, too! Oh god, Li, it’s perfect. I will owe you for life if you help me out.”

“Wait, what? You dove straight into it, what—recap, please,” Lia asks, and you compose yourself before explaining giddily. 

“Falling in love. It happens gradually, and we can compare it to the stages of grief. Seeing as you and Daniel are headed right there, we can use you as some test subjects. It’s not required to have respondents or subjects, really, it’s just an extensive paper, but it might help get the grade up. This is gonna be great, and if you ever wanna back out, you can, because it’s not mandatory.” Lia and Daniel meet eyes briefly, and then slowly, nod. “Okay, that’s pretty smart,” Daniel says, “I’m up for it. Are you?” Lia nods, slowly and hesitantly, and you smile widely. “You two just saved my Psych grade. I’ll be at Giselle’s tonight. Just…not on my bed.” You grab your keys and phone and bound out of your room, straight into the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator door nearly closes when a Converse-clad foot steps in, and your eyes rake up the figure, eventually landing on his face. 

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble, “you must be kidding me.” 

Mark enters the elevator with a small, teasing smile, hands tucked into his jacket’s pockets. “Hey, dude, what’s up? Was on your floor on my stop down to get some money Lucas owed me,” he says, “this is actually a godsend, because my genius brain found us a project idea. Relate grief to something else gradual? Easy as pie. Falling in lo—” 

You cut him off before he can finish, “Falling in love, right. I thought of it first, earlier,” you say profusely, absently noting the pettiness in your tone. He whistles. “No need to get all possessive over an idea the previous classes have used before, man.” You continue, ignoring him. “Whatever. Lucky for our grades, I went the extra mile to get us some test subjects. Do you know the two Chois? Lia and Daniel?” 

He nods once, “Yeah, their PDA on Instagram is fucking sickening, but I see your technique, and I like that—we get some extra data from their god awful PDA.” You nod once, and he continues. “It’s nearing 11 on a Friday night. Whose party are you headed to?”

“You’re welcome for the test subjects,” you gripe. “Anyway, I was so giddy about coming up with it, I just left them to…well, fornicate. As a compromise for being lab rats. I texted my…” you realize you’re starting to share too much to a guy you typically dislike talking to, and then there’s a silence in the air that’s painfully awkward. 

“You texted your…?” Mark asks. “My friend, but she’ll be home at 1AM, so I’m out to kill time. No parties, just…I dunno.” He nods again, and then the elevator lets out a blissful ding. You step out simultaneously, and then he faces you. “Look, it’s freezing out, you’re in shorts and a puffer coat, and it’s three hours to 1AM, so I doubt you’ll get far.” You scoff at his words despite feeling your legs shake from the breeze outside. “I’ll be fine, dumbass.”

“Just concerned,” he says, in a tone that sounds more blank than annoyed, but he turns and heads toward the door anyway. He swivels back around briefly. “It’s in Johnny’s apartment. Just a couple people, if you get bored freezing.” He jogs outside then, and you inwardly appreciate the small gesture, but again, annoyance returns just as quickly. You linger a bit before heading out yourself, walking briskly to a local Japanese restaurant. You consider this an opportunity to have some me time, some rest after a shitty week in university. Lasting ’til 1AM alone and entertained would not at all be a problem. 

You last one ramen bowl and head to Johnny’s apartment.

—

When Johnny Suh answers the door, he’s clad in a makeshift shower curtain gown of sorts, and is flushed and very buzzed all over. He hikes up the top to cover his chest and laughs profusely. “Did Mark invite you?” Behind him is a sizeable group of just about twenty people, which looks like forty in a cramped communal space. You’d been here before—Johnny likes to invite just about anyone to get stoned and listen to Kid Cudi on Fridays, and you had pushed Lia to accompany you before. 

You distantly spot the kitchenette, the small living room, and then the two bedroom doors opposing each other. “The rule was to show up wearing something not marketed as clothing, but Mark didn’t follow the rules, so. Anyway, you’re off scot-free, too…” he pauses, “…if you take off the puffer coat. We’ve got heating, anyway. Free booze and weed, too.” You figure being in a flimsy tank top isn’t so bad—you’re sure half the people here are already getting laid or trying to, and nobody would really pay attention to you.

You shrug off the coat as Johnny steps aside to let you in, hugging it close to your body and navigating your way to the kitchen. The granite counters are filled with various bottles of booze, and you also note the cigarettes and blunts lining the island. You peruse the brands before settling on a sealed can of decidedly not-so-cheap-looking beer, and crack it open to take a swig. It’s warm and fucking disgusting, but there’s not much glitz in an “anything but clothing” off-campus college party anyway. 

There are several people scattered among the living area, passing around a blunt—another group is playing suck and blow. You make your way over to the cheap couch on the far end of the room, taking a seat on the arm and stretching out your hand to claim the blunt. It’s Jae who passes it to you—Jaehyun Jung, an upperclassman whose infamy (for wearing nothing but toilet paper and running through campus) greatly surpasses him. “Who are you?” he asks, and you holler your name back over the Kanye West song playing in the background. “Mark invited me,” you tack onto the end as compensation.

He nods in understanding, watching you take a drag and pass it back to him. He only hands it back, saying, “It’s nearly done, just finish it,” and getting up to probably get some booze or another blunt. 

You scan the area for a better place to cherish your weed, because you’re definitely not going to do it on the arm of a couch housing three couples making out to the high heavens. You spot an open window and a fire escape just beside the kitchen and walk over, ducking into the cool night air. It’s not quiet, it never is, and you treasure the peace that comes with the noise, closing your eyes and trying to milk the last few drags. All that is flushed down the drain when somebody kicks you out of your reverie and your last two drags are falling down, through the grills of the fire escape. 

“What the fuck?” You look up to meet, of course, Mark’s gaze, teasing and mischievous. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny, asshat. Get away from me.” You get up instantly, ducking back into the house and searching for your coat. It’s (very unfortunately) buried under a couple who have escalated from making out to borderline public indecency.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, swinging the door open and mentally preparing yourself for the cold once you get to the sidewalk, floors down. Mark follows suit, a laugh gracing the atmosphere around the two of you. “You know, I forgot how fun it is to make you pissed off. I did it all the time in eighth grade when I told our teacher you knew the solution to the Physics problems.” You’re fucking pissed. However petty, you’re fucking annoyed that you couldn’t finish the blunt, and you pay no attention to him. 

He badgers on anyway. “Hey—it was a mistake, I wanted to say hi to you.” You scoff, finally turning—“Why? Because we’re friends? We’re not. We’re Psych partners, we came from the same high school, we share a couple mutual friends. But you and I are not friends, not objectively, anyway. Please, Mark. I only just re-acquainted myself with you today, but, like, you’re already so annoying!” You’re at the elevator now, and when the doors slide open, you step inside and let them close at once. You barely catch the unreadable look on his face in your annoyance, and you lean against the wall, shutting your eyes and breathing heavily. 

How you’d even get to Giselle’s, or how you would wait out the remaining half-hour before she got home, was just up to whichever higher power happened to be witnessing you that night.

—

The door of your professor’s office closes with a saddening click. You stare back at her name, embossed on the wood in bold, in defeat, accepting your fate with a heavy heart. Just fifteen minutes prior, you had entered with a whole spiel prepared on how you just had to swap with somebody from your class so you wouldn’t have to work with Mark. This speech had occurred twice now—with your TA, and then once with your professor. This was your second chance, your redemption: so you prepared notes, you prepared convincing words—you had a point. 

But your professor simply shooed you away, muttering how she didn’t have time for you because she was going to be receiving hundreds of papers in a few weeks’ time from a different class and she, quite honestly, couldn’t be bothered. You bite your lip, thinking back to the previous Friday—it was nearing two weeks since your small outburst at Mark. Since then, you’d expected to build a silent rapport of just working, observing Lia and Daniel, and then parting. And that was almost it. You would show up to your so-called “lab rat sessions”, cup of warm caramel latte in hand, and work. 

Except Mark would constantly make noise, jeer, swipe your pen, and do other things that got on your nerves.

“You’re going to have to stop trying sometime,” Lia says, backhugging you. She’d been waiting outside. You let your head loll back onto her shoulder and whine. “Do you know when you’re so frustrated you want to cry? Yeah? That’s exactly how it is, Li. I can’t keep up with this for another two, three months. It’s like he’s not even, like, fuck, like he’s not even trying, y’know? We’re building the foundation of a pages-long paper. This isn’t some finals essay he can bullshit in three hours.” 

You groan as Lia pulls away from you, whirling you around to face her. “It’ll be fine, I swear to you. I’ll help out, anytime you need it. I promise. If I start hating Daniel, I’ll even pretend like I’m in love with him. Head over heels.” You let yourself laugh and pull out your phone as you two begin to walk towards your dorm.

She tsks. “We’re gonna have a thing tonight, right? Like, a lab rat session?”

You nod, squinting over your calendar app. “Yeah, at around 5:30 to 6. It’ll be quick, but Mark and I are gonna have to stay behind to divide the work for the general paper and then start. Hopefully we can get some outlining done by tonight…so don’t wait up,” you sigh. She smiles apologetically, pinching your waist affectionately. 

“Daniel and I will totally help you. He’s a Mark anti now. I told him about the party outburst thing.” You had sent her a slew of texts that night, and like every other story you had told (save for the most private ones), Daniel had caught wind of it. You’re half sure he was capable of blackmailing you at that point. “Good,” you shoot back, “I’m going to need all the anti-Mark force I can get.”

“Why?” You both turn to see Mark standing idly behind you. There’s a beat, and then: “You look like an inane stalker,” you retort, turning to continue walking. Lia follows suit—with the two of you, the vibe of the atmosphere would always come easy. If one was mad, the other would act mad, too. 

“Hey,” Mark repeats, falling into step beside you, “why do you need an anti-Mark force? Tell me.” At this point, your nerves are on fire and your blood is boiling, and you’re beginning to envision beating him up on the quad. “Mark, it’s been great, but we’re going to our dorm, and in case you don’t want to catch a restraining order, I suggest you get off at your floor instead of following us like a creep,” you say sweetly, quickening your steps until he’s far behind you, smiling. Fucking asshole. 

“I’ll see ya this evening, then,” he teases, and you grumble under your breath.

—

It’s 5:45 when Lia and Daniel leave the library—fifteen minutes early. You and Mark leave ten minutes later, hours before you were supposed to complete your task. You’re fuming, and for once, Mark has the decency to read the room and feel remorse. 

The evening had started off well enough, though—Lia and Daniel had showed up, did their thing, described what was happening, and you and Mark had noted it down. And then, well. Mark spilled water all over your planner, which, in hindsight, was definitely unintentional, but in the spur of the moment, you could do nothing but your natural—everybody’s natural—response to getting something precious ruined. You began to cry. “What the fuck,” you sniffled, “is wrong with you?!” You had shaken the majority of water off your planner, but any and all dates had been smudged and bled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. “I know I called you annoying, but this is too far,” you had said, watching his face go from teasing to genuinely sorry. “Dude, it was accidenta—” 

“I don’t give a fuck—!” You quickly cut yourself off and wipe your tears when you see a young library assistant heading towards your table. Everybody composes themselves—Lia and Daniel straighten out the things on the surface and Mark sits up straight. “Hey,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two students already came in with a noise complaint. We’re gonna have to ask you to,” he makes a gesture, “leave for now and come back tomorrow. Also, the puddle on the table…yeah. I’m really sorry.” He leaves, as if to make sure you have no other choice but to just go, and you slump back onto your chair in exhaustion. 

“You two can go ahead,” you hear Mark say, “I’m really sorry about this. We’ll clean up and apologize.” Faintly, you hear them get up, and you feel Lia’s hand squeeze yours as she promises a text and food later. You let your eyes remain shut, drinking in the quiet, trying to calm your inner turmoil.

Ten minutes later, when you’re out in the cold November air, Mark finally speaks. You had cleaned up and collected your things in silence. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “it was an accident, for real. I know I tease a lot, but, uh, I’m being serious. I would never have done that on purpose. I see you write shit on that thing a lot, so…I know how much you like it. Treasure it…? I don’t—whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Like, really. T’was an accident. If you need me to pay for it…” You shake your head softly, hugging your damp planner closer to your sweater-clad chest. “It’s okay. Thanks, anyway. For helping. I’ll email you what you have to do. Bye,” you turn and begin walking in the direction of your dorm. The sun is beginning to set, golden orange hues casting a vast array of colors onto the landscape of the city. You sigh softly, heart heavy with annoyance and exhaustion, and speed up before you start having a mini-breakdown.

—

Stage 1: Denial|

Your cursor blinks back at you as you finish typing in your outline for the introduction. It’s early into November, but already, you’ve had to shut your window to shielf yourself from the biting breeze outside. Across you, Lia applies mascara and talks to you. “What are you up to?” she asks, face contorted. 

“This godforsaken paper,” you mumble back, “just finished the introduction outline. I’m trying to give a loose definition for each gradual ‘stage.’” Shoving your Macbook off your lap, you get up to stretch. “Which I’ll probably find on Google Scholar, honestly. If you had to give me a definition—what’s denial?” 

She hums contemplatively, wand on lash, and then pipes up. “I think it’s just a stage where you can’t face the fact that you’re interested in that person. Like, why them? With Daniel, he wasn’t really my type. So the whole denial was denying I liked him, because…well, yeah. But I think it differs. Some people deny it because they’re shy, or ashamed, or weirded out that they even like them.”

You’ve had your fair share of crushes before, and sure enough, you had denied them all. But that was high school—college, though, had only brought short-lived flings and one night stands; you were an overachiever, much too committed to your own prosperity to pay mind to anybody else for too long. (Except Lia.) So you hadn’t really experienced the whole boyfriend-in-university thing—not that you particularly wanted to, but you were just human; you were curious. Lia had gotten it, and it looked wonderful. 

Speaking of—“So, a week without meeting Mark in person, huh? How is that going for you?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head as you pull your hair into a bun. “It’s going just fine. Dandy, actually. We work from our dorms and you and Daniel just update us. It’s a fine arrangement that I regret was not formulated sooner.” Lia nods in understanding, and you watch her pull on a top, mutter I’m out and head outside. For the fifth time this week, you’re alone in the dorm, with nothing but your Alexa playing SZA and your laptop. You pull it onto your lap again, staring at the boldface letters you had typed minutes prior: denial. You had no firsthand experience of being mature and going through denial; not in that way, anyway. You found it stupid that people even denied when it would be less painful to just admit interest.

You blow a raspberry as you research studies related to the term, bored out of your mind.

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

You’d also had the pleasure of, for a minute or two, meeting a friend of his, Donghyuck Lee from Economics. He’s loud and amusing and, from your viewpoint, undeserving of somebody as boring as Mark. (That’s from a minute-long intercation.) 

At Lia’s insistence (and likely Daniel’s, too), you two met up to properly work and collaborate. In fear of being kicked out again, the four of you had chosen to meet somewhere else—a cafe off-campus affectionately named something along the lines of Saltwater Coffee. Naturally, after Donghyuck leaves, you find yourself sitting idly (awkwardly) beside Mark. “They won’t be long,” he says suddenly, “er, Daniel just texted me. They’re near.” You nod, pursing your lips, eyes trained onto your laptop. “We’re almost done formulating the denial stage and we can start outlining anger and bargaining. This’ll take about a week more—maybe mid to late November? Uh, I know it seems justifiable to slack off with the holidays,” you say, “but I really want us to finish this early. The due date’s in mid-February, so we can pass this on the 14th.” You turn to face him. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He nods. “Okay. No slacking. I get it. The Valentine’s is smart, too.” You nod back in silent understanding, turning back to type frantically into your keyboard. 

You hear the door jingle and Lia’s small “hey, guys”, so you look up and offer a smile. “I’m gonna go order everyone some coffee,” Mark says beside you, getting up and shuffling over to the counter. Daniel joins him, and Lia takes a seat across you, her smile knowing and apologetic. “Everything okay?” You blow a raspberry, but smile, anyway. “It’s not so bad. It could be better, but no more banter, just very annoyed auras…? You get it. It’s just been tough trying to divert my focus to this and ignore all the annoyance I feel.”

“Totally, I get that,” she says, “but all the same, I’m glad he’s matured a little bit and lessened all the ribbing.” You smile at that, agreeing, and then the conversation spirals into one about both of your days—“Professor Callahan totally pops a stiffy over Professor Michaelson”, “Daniel tells me Joshua cheated. Yes, on Jess!”, “Mia dropped out the other day and nobody knows why, hope she’s okay”—before Daniel and Mark return, coffee cups in hand. Mark places one next to you, and profusely, you look up at him, who’s just about to sit. 

“Thanks, but I don’t drink brewed coff—”

“It’s a caramel latte, the only thing you drink. Heard you say that to Lia once.” He takes a seat and pulls his laptop open. 

You stare at him, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. Sure enough, it’s caramel—thick, and foamy, and sweet. You look up at him again, but he’s busy on Google Scholar, perusing through journals and studies. You shake your head before turning to Lia, who’s already looking at you, expression mirroring yours. 

Sweet, she mouths, but you purse your lips and choose not to acknowledge it. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and he hums to say you’re welcome. 

Your eyes flicker to him. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, but he’s pulled it up to his elbows. He’s typing quickly, and he can use all his fingers, too (you fail miserably at that), and his brows are furrowed as if he’s stressed, or in a hurry. You’ve never really noticed this much of Mark before. It’s probably, you think absently, because you’re confused. Puzzled at the gesture that you didn’t expect—at all.

After an hour, he angles his laptop to yours. “Nailed the intro. High five?” You open the Google doc on your own browser, and sure enough, the word count has increased monumentally. You can’t deny his knack for writing. “There are a few discrepancies in grammar,” you say instead. “But…okay. This is good.” You ignore his hand, in mid-air, and continue researching. 

Lia holds in a giggle, but turns back to Daniel, who, after fifteen minutes, turns to you and Mark. “Lia and I are heading out, guys,” he says, and Lia quickly tacks on. “Hey, if you need me to stay, I can,” she says quickly, but you smile and shake your head. 

“This might take a while. Go ahead. See ya at the dorm, Li. Bye, Daniel.” Mark bids his farewells, too, and they leave you alone in the cafe. It’s nearing a three hour crunch when he abruptly gets up to stretch, a low grunt leaving his lips. “I’m exhausted,” he sighs, “but at least we’re nearly done with this whole denial thing.”

“We’re actually only just starting,” you state, “this is going to go through a lot of editing and proofreading.” 

He chuckles and walks back to the counter to order something, and you shut your laptop to rest your eyes. Your glasses rest uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose as you breathe deeply. You lose track of time, and you open your eyes ten minutes later, fumbling to get up properly. There’s a panini beside your laptop, wrapped neatly in a tissue and laid on a plate. Mark’s is empty, save for crumbs, and he says nothing. 

“Get up,” he remarks teasingly after a while, and you groan in exhaustion. “I am, I’m up,” you mutter, straightening your back and flexing your neck. Inwardly, you wonder if you should thank him for the panini that is obviously yours that you obviously did not buy for yourself. 

Then Mark’s hand stretches out to take the panini, and he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, “I had to put my second sandwich in your space. This table’s a little small.” You hum back in acknowledgement, nodding once. “It’s, uh…all good,” you respond, voice small as you type into your laptop. Internally, your body fills slowly with humiliation and confusion, but you stay quiet, and that’s how the rest of the night goes: a silent, steady beat of keyboard clicking and the occasional question. 

No banter, no nothing—it’s a godsend, yes, it is, but you can’t help but miss the abrasive, playful conversations the two of you had built up over the previous several weeks. But really—had you truly assumed he had bought you a panini? As if a coffee wasn’t enough? You felt at odds with yourself for even expecting such a gesture from the guy whose main habit was to annoy you to the ends of the Earth.

“It’s late,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind and knowing you’re absolutely mortified inside. “Let’s head home.” You nod, deeming the night’s work satisfactory—maybe even beyond, considering the amount of effort you both put into the output. You shove your laptop and charger into your bag and pocket your phone, lingering awkwardly and waiting for Mark to finish packing up. He’s particular with it—he has little sections in his backpack for the wires and chargers, and even his AirPods, and his laptop. 

“Very organized,” you find yourself commenting offhandedly, your tone taking on a teasing edge. He glares playfully back at you. 

“Sorry I don’t want my wires to break,” he shoots back, eyeing your flimsy tote bag, “unlike some people.” You roll your eyes and, against your strongest wills, a smile appears on your lips, albeit a small one. His eyes linger on your smile for a little bit before he clears his throat and zips up his knapsack. “Let’s, er, go. Thank Jesus we’re in the same building.” When you exit, the air bites at you despite the jacket covering your body, and you quicken your pace. “It’s cold as hell.”

“Ironic,” Mark says. You hide a smile.

—

That’s what November brings you—the next week and a half are composed of just slowly learning to get used to working with Mark again and going home late into the night, crunching to the max. 

Your paper begins to take on more and more structure, and two out of the six days you’ve met, Mark has set down a caramel latte for you to arrive to. The acoustic music slowly phases into holiday guitar, and the coat rack at the entrance is weighed down more and more as the days pass, preparing to welcome December. 

You and Mark work silently, save for the rare banter and eyeroll, and very gradually, the annoyance that had bubbled up within seconds before had sank down. You’re not friends, per se—it’s just that the frustration and exasperation had lessened considerably. 

You were civil. That’s it. You won’t try to deny that you’ve been thinking about this a little too much—about what your “friendship” had become with Mark. You hadn’t snapped at him in days, and he hadn’t tugged at your ballpen in even longer. It wasn’t that you had cowered him into silence by crying over your planner—it may have instigated it, but his behavior was…different. 

More calm, more sure. Less childish. He would still tease you, but not as much. It’s nearing mid-November now, and you’ve successfully done much of your introduction and denial, needing less and less of Lia and Daniel’s presence. (Which you’re sure they’re grateful for.) But being left alone with Mark isn’t as bad as you once thought—

“Hello. Earth to you,” you distantly hear, and you whip your head in the direction of the voice as you pace back to your dorm building. Mark stares blankly back at you. “What,” you mumble back. He quirks a brow before continuing. “I was saying, I think I need to take a rain check tomorrow. The, uh”—he clears his throat—“um, yeah.”

You eye him. “Okay…?”

He nods profusely, “Yeah, all good.” The walk continues in silence, the sun finally setting down behind the Manhattan skyline beyond you and the breeze taking on a chillier temperature. You sigh softly, fatigue overtaking you as you stare at the building nearing you. “If you take a rain check, just make sure you write it within the day or after,” you say, half-sternly and half-tiredly. He mumbles a “got it” and you both jog up the steps to the lobby, where you run into, by some weird twist of the day, a small group of anti-abortion protesters.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters under his breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You rub the bridge of your nose in your fingers, choosing to tune them out and instead maneuver your way through the door. Before you can even take a step, though, they’re all up in your face with pamphlets and brochures and a guitar. “Excuse me,” you grunt, trying to gently push them aside, but they only come on stronger. “A child is a child,” they say. “If you know anybody who’s—”

“Is this your new initiative? Preying on college students on school grounds, unaccounted for?” Mark asks from behind you. You turn to find he’s filming and stifle a laugh. “I’m surprised nobody’s kicked you out. Won’t be long, now,” he adds with a smile. 

You tune out nearly everything else—it’s really just them telling Mark to stop recording and him retorting with equally snarky phrases. It’s not until maybe after a solid two minutes of back and forth that one of them, a weird middle-aged woman, pulls out a burgundy gummy bear from a bag and pushes it into Mark’s camera. He takes it from her and examines it, puzzled. “That,” she says matter-of-factly, “is the approximate size of a fetus. It’s big. It’s sentient, alive. What, I beg of you, what would you do?”

Mark squints at it. Then he pops it into his mouth, takes your hand, and runs straight to the elevator across the floor. 

“There’s a bunch of anti-abortion people outside, it’s not cool!” He hollers to the receptionist before the doors close with a damning click. 

There’s a beat, and then.

Both of you are doubling over in laughter. “Why the hell would y—why would you do that?! You’re insane!” The response is: “Because they’re not cool! They’re fuckin’ annoying! So I ate their baby!” There are tears in your eyes, your laughter so hard it’s nearing silent—Mark’s, though, is loud and annoying sounding, though you seem to not mind so much. The laughter subsides when the ding of your floor sounds and you straighten yourself up. Getting into a different position reminds you of the very there, very obvious brushing of your hand against Mark’s, which he’d taken just moments earlier, post-baby eating.

You freeze and jerk your hand away. “I’ll, um, go now,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorr—no, the day after.” Against your wills, you meet his eyes, and you’re surprised to find that he’s already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart beats faster at a very small increment, but you head out and semi-run to your room, swinging it open and leaning against it. 

You look up to find Lia and Daniel engaged in a heated Monopoly match. You make no noise, mind (and heart, but you can’t tell why) racing fast. You watch them play for a second before they both look up slowly.

“You’re smiling like a goddamn idiot,” Daniel says. Your face falls immediately. “I’m, um, no I’m not,” you say casually, pacing over to your bed and flopping onto it. Lia laughs loudly. 

“That sounded so freaked. Like we’re your mom and you just brought weed home kind of freaked.” Pause. 

“Are you hiding something from me?” She rises from her spot to look at you, head in pillow and all, and you let out a muffled “no!”, probably too defensive for your own good. 

It’s Daniel’s turn to snort. You look up and glare at him, “You’re getting too comfortable for your own good. You need to humble yourself, Daniel. What’s it again? Oh yeah, Yeonjun, right?” He rolls his eyes at the use of his Korean name and turns back to the Monopoly board.

Lia flops atop you, eliciting a grunt from your lips. “Are you okay? Did somebody flirt with you? Did Mark finally fuck off and leave you alone properly?” 

At the mention of Mark, your heart races—you will it to stop, and audibly groan in the process. “What is it, you bitch?” Lia asks, tugging on a section of your hair. “It’s nothing, Li! Nothing, I promise.” She glares at you before walking to Daniel and covering his ears. Instantly, he begins to let out a chorus of Lalala, and deeming the environment safe enough, you let it slip.

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

“It really, really doesn’t mean anyth—”

“How can that not mean anything? It’s hand holdi—”

“If you would listen to the backstory you’d know!” She pauses, and then uncovers Daniel’s ears and knees him. 

“Okay, get out. Monopoly postponed, Jun,” she says, pushing him out insistently. He barely collects his phone and keys before he’s out, but you swoon silently when you catch him pressing a short goodbye kiss to her forehead before actually leaving. She turns immediately, fire and curiosity awfully evident in her face. 

She nears you. “Explain.” 

And that’s what sparks the story of the weird protesters, Mark’s power move, and the unintentional hand hold that lasted a few moments too long. She nods the entire time, laughing, and then her face straightens out again. You can almost hear the gears in her head turning as she analyzes the situation, and then she nods once. 

“Okay. Perfectly justifiable to freak out.” Another pause. “But why were you smiling?” You stare blankly back at her, head working impossibly quick to formulate a reply. You’ve taken too long now, judging by the way Lia is looking at you with the most shit-eating grin on her fucking face. You groan.

“You like him, you bitch!” 

You shake your head, facing her. “I don’t, dude. Trust me. I just…it was a fun experience, so naturally I’d be laughing. And smiling. But I’m just not interested in Mark! I’m not,” you fumble, being completely honest. 

You didn’t—not even if you looked in the mirror and asked yourself. But you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt in the ten seconds from the elevator to your room, your heart racing and your fist curling and uncurling. When you look at Lia again, she’s still smiling, flushed. “You like him,” she says into her palm, which she’s slapped over her mouth in disbelief. You stare back at her, your expression baffled. “If I did,” you begin, getting up to discard your shirt, “I’d have told you by now. It’s really not that big of a deal unless you make it out to be.”

After that, you and Mark spend nearly three weeks walking on eggshells around each other. While conversations are no longer avoided, and you could talk without getting exasperated or too embarrassed, finger brushes are frequent, and eye contact only makes you extremely nervous. You had worked until the second stage—anger—already, but you’d still been polishing the denial and introduction. Considering November wasn’t over and the paper was due February, you figured you were moving at an okay pace. Besides, a lot of your friends hadn’t even begun.

—

There are two instances where you rush home, mortified beyond belief.

The first when when you struck up a conversation with the cute, Australian barista. Scrawled in big penmanship on his name tag is Chan. You had brought up, in passing, how often you’re at the cafe and how you probably deserve a free drink. He replied with a low hum, and you dialed down your flirty tone, slightly embarrassed. But not really. You’ve rejected plenty of people before. It’s when you’re already paying for your drink that he replied, handing you your (for a change) iced matcha with a small grin. 

“I’d have flirted with you weeks ago if you didn’t have your boyfriend with you all the time. He’s always buying you your drinks.” You spluttered for a good second, staring at him incredulously. ��He’s not my boyfriend,” you finally said. 

He had shrugged, nonchalant. “He sure as hell looks at you a lot for someone you’re not dating. And you do it just as much, if not more. I’m observant, by the way. Not a stalker.” You had taken your cup and paced over to the other end of the cafe, sat across Mark, cheeks heated.

He looked up, brow raised. You shook your head.

The second time was when Donghyuck graced you both with his presence. You quickly found out that he was a magnetic presence and you both shared similar interests. The energy you both created was both amusing and annoying to Mark. 

Although you kept quiet mostly, you enabled Donghyuck’s incessant teasing, which annoyed Mark to the ends of the Earth. “You’re a dork. Isn’t he?” You look up and nod with a smile. Mark rolls his eyes, sending Donghyuck into a laughing frenzy. Mark just grunts and continues typing.

Hyuck had made a joke about how two Physics textbooks discussed why the sad man named Mark owns two of them and didn’t have a life, and you laughed. 

You didn’t usually laugh, not around Mark, at least, since it was safe to say you didn’t have any source of entertainment in such a boring guy. But you laughed at the witty joke, and Donghyuck, without thinking much, had said in passing: “Mark, I guess you’re right about everything about her being pretty.”

Mark said nothing, typing. You said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even a sly Donghyuck or, from the counter, an even slyer Chan.

—

When you see Mark next, it’s three days later, and it’s, for the second time, in Johnny’s apartment. 

Lia had asked if you wanted to tag along, and you found no harm in going. (“You’re going because Mark is” becomes Lia’s favorite phrase of the night, so much it’s spread to Daniel, who you’d succumbed to and spilled everything to hours prior.) The walk there has something boiling low in your gut and you’re quiet, in fear you might end up vomiting in nerves or saying something stupid. Lia teases you, but her hand clasping yours reassures you, and you squeeze it tightly. 

You get there late—it’s past 1AM, and you have a sense of deja vu walking into the cramped space. It’s fuller this time—people are creeping into the bedrooms to smoke in private or do some other things, but suffice to say it’s crowded as fuck.

“Want a drink?” Lia hollers, and you nod over the music. Johnny’s neighbor is another upperclassman named Doyoung, though he’s mainly referred to as Doie by just about everybody around him.

You’ve seen his girlfriend call him bunny a few times, though you’ve long desired to repress that memory. 

Judging by the fact that you can faintly hear a different song from the next room, the party has probably extended to Doyoung’s. There’s quite a gathering this week—the rich freshman who you’d befriended once before, Chenle, and his horde of friends are here; from Lia, who hands you a drink, you learn that Kun and Sicheng, two incredibly attractive juniors, are here, too—in Doie’s, though. The party only intensifies, which is hard, because Johnny’s apartment is very tiny.

Eventually, you find yourself in the bathroom, smoking a joint you’d grabbed out of the clammy hands of a tipsy Chenle and kicking a couple out under the guise that you’re Johnny’s cousin. Chenle had protested but eventually given in, pulling a new one out of his pocket.

The bathroom light is white and harsh, but there’s a very funky lamp at the corner. From your place inside the dry (and thankfully clean…looking) bathtub, you eye it. It’s a tall one in the shape of a glass of margarita. 

You heave yourself up and find the switch, and then when it’s on, you giggle at the green light emitting from it. You have absolutely no idea why Johnny, Jaehyun, or their roommate Jungwoo (3J, as some call them) have a decorative, margarita-shaped green lamp, and in their bathroom nonetheless, but you shut off the main light and return to smoking your blunt. Deciding your ass aches far too much, you lean against the tile wall and cherish the smoke.

The door opens abruptly, and you curse, pushing it back closed. 

“I have explosive diarrhea,” you say robotically, using the same excuse you did for the previous three couples that showed up. 

From the other side, you hear a shrill laugh and sound of confusion. When you peer over the other side and see Mark, you groan and laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I saw you come in. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

Mark ushers himself into the dark space and shuts the door. He makes a show of locking it, as if to show you it’s possible to do so. The sound of it locking sends a wave of nerves up your spine. 

“I didn’t lock it in case a medical emergency happens and they have to rush inside.” 

Mark quirks his brow. “I doubt they would think to go inside the restroom and not panic and call 911, you know.” 

You shrug in indifference and take another drag, reluctantly offering it to him.

He takes it, and you pause for a second to observe him. His hair, dark, and which usually covers his entire forehead like a broom or at least parts in the middle slightly, is now styled differently. 

He’s in a fitting black shirt and blue jeans, and, upon your closer inspection, silver rings adorn his fingers. You will yourself to look down. It’s dark. “What’s that you’re holding?” You ask instead, trying not to extend your stare at his shoulders.

“Your puffer coat,” he says, tossing it to you. “Left it last time.”

“That time when you annoyed the shit out of me, right,” you retort.

“Yes, exactly that time. That was ages ago. Weeks ago. Look at us now.”

“Us now—what, still disliking each other?”

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn’t entertain you further. He turns to the lamp instead. “Do you know I was there when they moved this in,” he begins, gesturing to it, “Jae got it at some weird, awful flea market, and he had to buy some extra wiring to fix it or whatever. I was doing Physics homework. It was at the start of this school year. And I bet you didn’t know…” he bends down and reaches to the base of the lamp, pressing a button, “that it changes color.”

The room is bathed in red now, and you swallow. “Interesting,” you manage to say, despite the racing in your head. “Very,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. You gaze up at him. He’s tall. You breathe softly. You nod in agreement. You don’t know what to do. You want to punch him and kiss him and leave all at once. 

You want to kiss him, oh God, you want to kiss him.

“Oh God,” you say softly, out loud. Oh fuck. Too much weed?

He inches closer, leaving the blunt on the rim of the sink. “Why?” He smiles a little and you smile back, nervous. He’s so close now, and he smells so good—like cologne and laundry and weed. You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mumble back.

He’s even closer now, eyes boring into yours. You adjust your strap, a nervous habit. He takes your hand and does it for you. “I like this song,” he says casually, like he’s not playing with the strap of your dress. “Do you know what it’s called?” It’s vaguely familiar to you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s Jhene Aiko,” he replies, and you nod. You gravitate closer.

You stare at him. He stares back. “I’m high,” you say. You giggle. “I had a brownie and that blunt.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “Don’t finish the blunt, ‘kay?” You nod back, and giggle again. In two seconds, your nervous mechanism has kicked in and you’re laughing like a psycho. “I’m high,” you repeat, and then he kisses you, effectively sobering you up.

Huh. He kisses you, effectively sobering you up. He kisses you.

You kiss back, shocked and relieved, deepening it, trying to get as much of him as possible. His hands are big and wide and warm, traveling all over you. You want him. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, lips molding against yours deliriously. 

“Want you,” you say when his hands play with the hem of your dress, teetering closer and closer to your core. “I said, I want you,” you whine, “now.” Mark only laughs, his hands under your dress and playing with the lace waistband of your underwear. 

“I like how this feels,” he mumbles. “Wanna take a look.” You whimper, hiking your leg up and nodding. “Please, just…touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“I will,” he says, voice calm. “You’re being good.” You can’t deny the noise you make at the praise, breathy and loud. You pull him in again, drunk for more, your hands raking through his hair. It’s dark, the both of you basking in the small red light. Mark hikes your dress up, inching it higher, slowly, until he sees the hem of your white lace underwear. He grunts and pulls at it. “I love this,” he says. “So fuckin’, Jesus.” 

You giggle against the smile. He toys with your panties for a bit before finally pulling them down, watching them sink to your ankles. “Hot,” he jokes, and you laugh in disbelief. “Why would you even be joking abou—”

“Mark! Let’s go, it’s 2:30!” Donghyuck’s voice is just as loud and clear as it would be if you weren’t separated by a door. Jolted, you and Mark instinctively break apart and stare at the rattling door. “Maaaark,” he sing-songs, knocking to a beat. You stare at Mark, waiting for him to respond.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” he says. You stifle a guffaw, pulling your panties up.

He pouts, tapping your ass. “Bullshit,” Donghyuck says from outside. “I’m cooomin’ in!”

In the span of a minute, where you realize Donghyuck is not bluffing and in fact has a stolen bathroom key from Jungwoo’s bedside drawer, you manage to shove yourself into the bathtub and hide yourself with the curtain. Mark switches the light back on, much to both of your disappointment, and pretends to smoke the blunt you’d left on the sink fifteen minutes ago. Ergo: pre-kiss.

You find your phone on the bathtub floor and grip it, turning the brightness down. You have a plethora of messages and voicemails from Lia, five calls from Daniel, and an interesting iMessage of Donghyuck’s red, weed-induced eyes from an unknown number. It could be anybody, and that scares you.

The texts are all frantic, and they’re the last things that bring you out of your high and back to reality. Where are u, who u with?, u getting railed??!, Have you seen mark?

“Hyuck, if I actually did have a shitstorm coming out of my ass, you’d be so sorry for breaking in,” you hear Mark say. You sink lower into the bathtub, awaiting Donghyuck’s voice. “You were the one who suggested we go at 2:30, and you’ve been smoking weed for the longest time, dipshit,” he says, “now let’s go. I haven’t seen your Psych girl all night, so you can cry about it at home.” You faintly detect Mark protesting and then, “Let me just freshen up! Just go ahead.”

Reluctantly, you peek out and find Mark alone. You get up and fix your dress.

You’re sober now. The red lights are gone. It’s just you and Mark, plain and simple. Your feelings haven’t gone away, though. You’re fucking fucked. You want him to fuck you. Oh, fuck.

“Go,” you say instead, spluttering. “And I’ll see you. Tuesday.”

You leave first despite yourself, not turning around for even a split second, finding a worried (and then relieved) Lia and taking five consecutive tequila shots to down the nerves and denial bubbling in your system. She raises a brow, but you refuse to even meet her eyes, head and heart pounding impossibly fast. You want to kiss him again. So, so bad. But what the fuck did you just let happen?

—

Stage 2: Anger|

Lia hadn’t pressed, and you were nervous, but it was getting easy to diverge the details of what happened during Johnny’s party. You had instead opted to work alone, too much of a coward to even see Mark’s face. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you feared you might just kiss him if you ever saw him. So you spent days at class working, and then at your dorm working, adjusting your route to avoid, as much as possible, Mark or Hyuck’s buildings and that godforsaken cafe. You did text Mark, though, and the exchanges were brief, not even a “thank you” or “good morning” preceding them. It was awful.

Working alone forced you into a heavy load of retrospection. You would think deeply, like how you are now, spiraling into a series of questions where you studied the play-by-play of what happened in the bathroom, up against the wall. You liked it. A lot. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself. Why it even happened…God. You mentally berated yourself for giving into it. Didn’t you hate him? Or at least dislike him? Didn’t you take pleasure in scolding him or fighting with him?

“You’re freaking me out,” Lia says from her bed. She’s been staring at you. “You’ve been lying on your bed staring at the ceiling for twenty straight minutes.” She walks over to you, flopping next to you, her arms winding around your body. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

“Made out, more like. We were going to fuck if we didn’t get interrupted.” You’re mortified, refusing to meet her gaze. When you look up, her face is even, but you know she’s bubbling over with giddiness inside. “That is so fucking great, dude,” she replies. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because it’s Mark,” you whine. “He’s not…I don’t know.”

She lies back down. “You’re overthinking this.” You laugh, poking her waist. “I know, but I just…I feel like he might not like me much anymore.” You recount the way you left him hanging, despite the lack of awkward air and the potential to talk and become something. She tsks but justifies it, because she’s so good at that, being a mediator, and you continue with your day quietly. 

Your mind is always on it, though, his hands and his lips, and you’ve scoured Spotify for the song playing that he had commented on.

It’s called Pussy Fairy. You cannot make it up. It’s a weird title, but the song is heavenly, and you can’t deny when it’s full blast on your AirPods and your hand is creeping closer and closer there, trying desperately to replicate what you felt in that moment. When you’re not sated, ashamed and sighing, you resort to working on your paper. There are moments where both you and Mark are working at the same time, and you hate yourself for getting all flustered when it happens. 

—

It’s a Tuesday, in the early afternoon, when you’re out of class and cleaning out the little litter in your dorm, repasting whatever decorations fell off, et cetera. You have the time, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to fix the place up a bit. You’re halfway into re-stringing Lia’s fairy lights when someone knocks on the door, jolting you. You curse under your breath, hopping off her bed to swing the door open and reveal—

“What is up?!” Donghyuck grins back at you. His hand is raised in a high-five invitation, which you hesitantly reciprocate. “Mark tells me you’re meeting today, and that I should come remind you, since it seems like you forgot. He says you haven’t texted all day. Since I was on this floor—do you know Jeno Lee? Do you know it’s so amusing how Mark, Jeno, and I all have the same surname? Anyway. I was here on your floor to remind Jeno about an Econ presentation, and Mark texts me and goes, if you’re with Jeno, then remind you—you as in you, you—to come meet me and work.” 

He talks so goddamn fast. “You talk so goddamn fast.”

He just guffaws, high-fiving you again. “Well, you get my point, right? Meet Mark at the cafe and work is all he said to do. If you wanna.” You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “Tell him I’ll be a little late,” you say simply, and as you’re about to shut the door, he talks again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you were hiding behind the curtain.”

You pull the door open again, so fast a minuscule gust of wind washes over both of your faces. “You’re kidding,” you say, “you’re kidding.” You stare at each other for a second before his solem features break into a smile. “I am. Mark spilled everything to me, so I decided to trick you.” Relief and annoyance break over your system as you swat Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You’re a dick,” you spit. “You’re bringing a bad image to Econ majors.”

He merely laughs and closes the door himself, light brown hair fluffing with the severity of his laugh (cackle.) Slightly annoyed, you drag yourself to get dressed, dread building up in your stomach at the prospect of seeing Mark again. Not when your mind conjures up what happened everytime you just see his name. Or the word mark. You’ve been out of it since it happened, not even responding to your usual heated debates with the conservative Trump supporter in class. You suppose the best way to confront it is to simply confront it.

When you get there, though, it’s clear that confrontation would not be an option. Immediately, when you sit, the air shifts into something oddly familiar—the atmosphere between the two of you when you first got partnered up. Except now, Mark won’t even give you a pinch of attention, or banter, instead typing his questions into the document to avoid verbal conversation. (He is a fucking petty bitch, you’ll give him that.)

You stroll over to the counter, pout set on your lips. “Hello,” Chan says politely, and you just smile half-heartedly. “Lover’s quarrel?” He teases, and you roll your eyes. “He’s ignoring me,” you respond, watching him make you a latte. “And we’re not dating. We never were.”

“Mm, right,” he says, finishing and setting your drink in front of you. You laugh a little, taking it. “No. We weren’t. But I’ll update you.”

When you return, Mark’s looking at you, quiet as ever. You break his gaze and continue working, working and working until the sun sets, nestled deep behind the horizon. When you look up again, the sky is already dark, city lights providing solace to the place. You look at Mark quizzically, as if to ask him what time you should both leave, but he just shrugs. “Any time,” he states plainly, and huffing, you get up.

“I’ll go right ahead then,” you say, trying your best to sound annoyed and get your message across. He says nothing, watching you pack up your stuff and sling your bag over your shoulder, and then eventually, leave.

Daniel is the first to see you in your raged, annoyed state—you meet him in the elevator of the lobby, your blood boiling and your fists balled. Knowing you’re headed to the same floor, he presses the button, ruffles his hair, and then lets the silence take over. And then, “What’s going on?” You breathe deeply, turning to him with a tired look on your face. “Mark’s going on,” you mumble, “he was ignoring me the entire time. And to think he was the one who requested my presence! It makes no sense. Why would he ignore me when we can just talk about it?”

“About what?”

It suddenly occurs to you that Daniel knows about your weird feelings for Mark, but not how they culminated. You splutter. “Um, about us. Everything.” Daniel looks amused, but the doors open, and you thank them for the temporary exit from the topic. He stops you right outside, though, and pulls out two ticket, card-looking things. “Wait, um. Listen, Lia and I are going to reach our seven-month…anniversary, I guess, of, y’know, being a thing. I know it seems really small, but I want to give her a little something out of appreciation, so I got us a room at this ski lodge outside the city.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say honestly, “but I must admit, it comes on sort of stalker-y. Like you’re whisking her off out of the city.”

He beams even louder. “That’s why you’re coming. With Mark!”

You gape back at him. “Did you miss the whole I-hate-him thing that happened in there?” You jab your finger towards the closed elevator doors, disbelief written across your face. He laughs. “Sometimes you can’t keep hiding behind”—he begins walking to your room, and you follow suit—“emotions, like anger. When I liked Lia, there was a point where I was just pretending to alienate her so I wouldn’t have to face that I was starting to love her. Like her. And you know, she did it right back.” 

“Oh, quit it,” you scoff, insistent. “You’re lecturing me like you’ve been married a decade.”

“That’s what I want,” he says, and you gag. “The first step to that would be ski lodge trip, so you’re coming!”

You’re in front of your room now, and you pinch his wrist as he reaches for the handle, gaining his full attention. “I’ll gladly go,” you whisper, “if Mark’s out.” Daniel just laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. An overnight trip would delay your paper severely. Plus, they have two beds per room.”

“We’ll be staying in the same roo—hey, Li,” you say, quickly cutting your angry rant off when she opens the door, her face confused (to say the least.) 

“Mm, hey,” she says, ushering the two of you in. “How long were you two out there?” Daniel shrugs, ruffling his hair and then pressing a kiss on Lia’s forehead. You boo from your place on your bed, buried under your duvet. “You both suck,” you holler, “always sexing it up in a sacred space. AKA my room.” Lia just grins and jumps on top of you, drawing grunts from you both. Daniel seats himself on the floor and busies himself with his phone. “How was Mark,” she whispers into your hair, and you groan.

“Bad,” you respond, “I’m so annoyed. We’re back to square one.” She makes an apologetic noise and gets up with a sigh, adjusting the strings of her pullover and then hugging Daniel. You watch them. You want to kiss Mark again. Life sucks that way.

—

Predictably, Mark turns down the offer of the ski lodge. He’s polite about it, too, especially since he and Daniel have grown a little bit closer since the start of your project. Daniel is, by no means, a “Mark anti”, but he would participate in the ribbing sometimes. Still, he’s insistent on the trip, saying it’s the best way to welcome December and that the forecast predicts a nice, thick layer of snow. It takes a week and two coffees everyday for Mark to give in, under the condition that he buy his own room when you get there.

Which, honestly, really, you have no problem with. Really, you think to yourself as you unceremoniously shove a knitted sweater into your bag. Really. Lia, who had graciously accepted the surprise, watches you abuse your bag, shoving sweater and scarf inside like they want to murder you. “Relax,” she says after a while. You laugh, playing it off (not so) casually.

The drive up there, courtesy of Daniel and a borrowed Prius, is fun, and cramped, but still decent, considering it was just an hour long. You’re in the back with Lia, and Mark is in charge of the AUX, which, of course, comes with its own bout of jokes. You even find the heart to participate and laugh in a few, not daring to meet his eyes. But all his songs are so fucking good. Frank Ocean, Jhene Aiko, SZA, and smaller indie artists flow from the speaker under his phone. The car ride has its share of epic karaoke moments—Mark plays ABBA, and Queen, solely to make sure everybody is belting out to the high heavens.

You get there when the sky’s purple and orange and there are some skiiers scattered around, though, since it’s not the proper holiday period, not too much. You trek over to the main lodge and that’s where Daniel pays for his reservations, and he and Lia retire to their room and promise to get up for dinner. You’re, again, alone with Mark in the lobby as you both stare at each other, willing the other to get up first. He does, to buy his own room like he said he would, and you can faintly hear the exchange from your seat on their nice, fluffy couch.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re renovating a majority of the rooms for the holidays. That’s why reservations were a prerequisite for staying here.”

Mark sighs. “Okay, right. I’m so sorry. Um”—it’s at this point that you go up next to him, polite smile on your face, ready to take the room key and fuck off—“could we just get an extra blanket, please? For one of the beds.” The receptionist gives a curt smile, handing over the keycard and nodding. “That’ll be one queen-sized warm blanket, then,” she hums, typing away. The receptionist beside her goes to the back, presumably to get the blanket. Mark nods, smiling. “For two queen-sized beds, it must be a big room for both of them to fit comfortably,” he comments offhandedly, fiddling with the card.

The receptionist chuckles. “There is only one bed, sir.”

Oh, God. “Oh, God,” you whisper. “One bed?” She nods with an eye-crinkling smile, like her words have not just rained hell upon the two people across her. “One bed and a sofa,” she corrects herself, reading the information on the computer by the desk. Not wanting to risk your last shred of sanity, you smile profusely, walking quickly towards your room which, thankfully, is on the same floor, at the end of the hall. It’s a small, quaint place that would be honest-to-God perfect if not for the fact that—

“There’s one bed,” Mark sighs, the truth clicking into place. “Daniel is a fucking shithead.” You drop your bag onto the carpeted floor, surveying the room with a scrutinizing gaze. It’s sizable—a bed, a couch, a window. There’s a small wooden desk that looks like its legs can barely hold its weight, and then another door, leading to the bathroom. It’s not bad at all. But you’re exhausted, the sun’s long gone, and your resolve is shredding away as the seconds tick by. “Take the couch,” you say dismissively, “or the carpet.” You make a beeline for the bed, but Mark’s arm wraps around your waist, effectively stopping you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod “Shut up and let go of me, dick,” you stutter out. Mark loosens his grip and you shove him off, glaring at him. He gazes back down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t just make up terms without negotiation,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blow a raspberry. “Fine. Let’s negotiate then. I’m a girl and that puts me above you because chivalry isn’t dead, thus, boom, I get the bed.”

“I was in the uncomfortable passenger seat all day and my lower back hurts,” he counters.

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

“You already said that, it’s invalid.”

The back and forth only intensifies, your arguments growing more and more bizarre, until finally, your volume is so high Lia says she can hear it faintly, four doors down. 

“The couch looks comfy,” you try, but Mark stands firm. 

“Do you know what? The bed is big. It’s a big bed. And we’re not going to take up much space. If we divide the bed with the sofa pillows…” you pick up the cushions and line them up neatly along the middle, “…then we can sleep beside each other without having to make contact with each other.” He seems convinced, stepping closer to the bed and nodding. “Okay. I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you let him anyway. You’ve unpacked nearly all your things and he isn’t done yet, so you’ve resorted to scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok and laughing at just about everyone that pops up on screen. Mark finally exits after what feels like forever, and you keep your eyes trained on your screen to avoid looking at him. From your peripheral vision, he is very much shirtless. There are no words exchanged, the thickness in the air only building bit by bit.

—

Three hours later, post-dinner, post-abandoning the thought of working on your paper, you’re stumbling into your room after helping the very tipsy couple of the night into theirs. You’re beyond tired now, and you can tell Mark is, too, despite the lack of eye contact or communication between you. You don’t even look at him, brushing your teeth and removing your makeup and clipping your hair up into a bun. It’s when he does the same, and you’re both in bed, using your phones, that he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he says. His voice is even and calm, and you quickly shut your phone off and sit up, peering over the pillow boundary you had created. You look at him expectantly before he sighs and continues. “Why did you leave?”

You stand up, getting out, trying to increase distance. You’ve never really liked confrontation. “I was weirded out,” you spill, “and scared…? I guess with the nearness of being caught, and with all the lights on, I was just shocked back to reality.”

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

“I don’t—know,” you splutter, getting back on the bed. “Not kissing you?”

He laughs, and then it becomes silent. “Right. Let’s sleep, then.” Without another word, he pulls his lamp off, and only the white moonlight is left illuminating the both of you. Shucking yourself under the covers, feeling your heart practically thump out of your chest. You honestly think he can hear it, or at least feel it. Suddenly the boundary doesn’t do much. You turn away from him, nervous, and you can faintly hear his breathing even out. You shut your eyes for a second. When you open them again, he’s looking right at you. “Just checking to see if you’re asleep,” he says quietly. You nod. And then you lean upwards, just a touch, so your lips nearly brush slightly. “Night,” you say, before turning to sleep for real.

You’re not sure when. And how. Sure, you faintly remember digging your legs sleepily through the sheets to find warmth and tangling Mark’s in your own. But still—when you’re up, the pillow fort is at your feet, hanging precariously off the four post bed, and your back is against Mark’s chest. His breath fans lightly over your hair and you blearily register what happened overnight. His arm is slung over your middle, it’s quiet, and oh Christ, he is hard.

It’s fairly late. He’s hard. The antique clock mounted up on the wall tells you it’s around nine, which essentially gave you seven hours of sleep. He’s hard. You bask in the warmth of Mark for a while before your resolve solidifies and you gently push his arm off from its position on your hips. He only comes on stronger, wrapping fully around your waist, mumbling incoherence into your hair. He’s hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning sleep to overcome you quickly, but it never does. Dread overcomes you as you feel your underwear grow damp.

“Mm,” Mark grunts, his hand around your waist loosening. You move away but his head suddenly lolls into the crook of your neck, his lips touching the side of it. You whimper. He’s a fucking asshole, even when he’s asleep. You pinch his arm, jolting him to half-awakeness, and you roll away, despite your body’s protests.

He blinks his eyes open. “Sorry, shit,” he says, voice deep and ridden with sleep. You’re fucked.

“It’s okay,” you splutter instead. “Just go back to sleep.” You faintly register that you sound just as exhausted as he does, and you bury your head back into the covers. Everything, plus the sound of his voice, has you dripping, and you breathe in deeply to poorly disguise a whimper. He chuckles, already half-asleep, from where he is, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before you realize he’s fallen asleep. Knowing Lia and Daniel will be busy for a while, you pull a spare pillow over your head and chant to yourself before falling back asleep, too.

When you awaken, the bed is cold and empty, and the shower’s running. You check the time to find only an hour has passed, but you’re much more awake now, getting up and knocking incessantly on the bathroom door. “Hurry,” you demand hoarsely, “I want to go skiing.” You hear a muffled okay and scurry over to your bag to find the pair of leggings you had packed for this. You also find your parka, and you pull off your shirt to clasp on a bra.

“Not that I don’t mind,” Mark says, eliciting a yelp from you as you tug a sweater on at record speed, “but generally, that kind of thing only goes unnoticed in nudist colonies. I could research some for you, if you’d—ow! I was joking, God!” You bonk him twice over the head with the Bible on the bedside table, your brows furrowed angrily. “You looked, asshat,” you say, collecting your things and locking yourself in the bathroom.

When it becomes increasingly evident that Lia and Daniel have no plans of exiting their room, you grumble and resort to skiing alone. But as you’re shuffling out, bundled up, you spot Mark leaning against the exit waiting for you. He looks up and tsks. “About fucking time,” he says, holding the door open for you. It’s not that cold out—maybe you’re just used to having snow and chilly weather, and so is Mark—so you barely shiver, walking around and looking for a good place to ski.

“Forget skiing,” Mark says after a few rounds. “Let’s go sledding. I have a thing.”

“A toboggan, you mean.”

“A funny word. Really, just say sled.”

You let up, anyway, the bright sky and cold ground sending serotonin right into you. Sure enough, Mark does have a nice, blue sled that he lets you on, and then the two of you are bolting down the hill at breakneck speed, laughing all the way. It’s quite a long ride, and you’re smiling and yelping so much the cloth you’ve used to cover your neck has ridden down, the cold air hitting your face harshly.

You land very ungracefully—the toboggan hits a small tree and sends you and Mark catapulting in the same direction, your hands clawing at the air for expense. You find Mark’s arm and cling onto it in the split second you’re in the air, landing on a clearing of thick snow. The arm you’ve clung onto pulls you closer, Mark grunting “be careful,” and when the whole fiasco’s over, you’re smiling like an idiot, and you’re right on top of Mark.

You’re not straddling him or anything, but you’ve just happened to land with your face a little above his. You can’t stop laughing, your face flushed and red with the cold air hitting your face. So you laugh. Why wouldn’t you laugh? It was a good day. A good ride down the hill. So you keep laughing until they’re reduced to giggles, Mark laughing right along as you pull down the covering of his mouth and tug his beanie off, ruffling your hands in his hair and dipping down to kiss him.

He kisses you right back, his lips cold but quickly growing warm with the friction. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming all over his pink face. The kiss is giggly and light, your hands all over each other as the sunlight filters in through the thick trees overhead.

You pull away after a while. “I hate you,” you whisper. He presses a kiss to your jawline and lets it linger there. “You think I don’t?”

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

You’ve begun to type the structure out when Lia tugs on your pajamas, her tone insistent and curious. “What’s up with you and Mark?” she presses, her cheek pressed to your stomach. You fervently hope she doesnt notice how your breathing quickens, and, keeping your voice even, you answer. “We’re…thinking about things.”

Which—you were thinking about things, to be fair. There were things to be thought and you had to think about them. It was a broad half-truth. It had been two weeks since the ski lodge thing, and you and Mark had decided it was probably best to shut the fuck up about everything you had done. (Everything meaning a few kisses here and there, and maybe a little more under the covers.) You’d hated yourself for hiding it from Lia, but you and Mark were actually feeling hesitant about moving forward with whatever you were. There was a lot of ambiguity and questions, and until you could clear it up yourself, you knew you weren’t ready to tell anybody else. You had talked about it already—clearly, the two of you were beyond jumping straight into a relationship after not liking each other that much and then becoming hesitant friends.

But it was, if you had to admit it to yourself, nice having that little secret.

“I’d want to tell Lia soon,” you tease, walking steadily beside Mark. The afternoon sun is warm on your heads, the snow falling intermittently. He turns with a small smile. “I’d want to tell Hyuck, too.” You scoff, burying your head in his chest. You probably look fucking disgusting. Around you, Washington Square Park is full of natives and tourists, and college students like you, all scurrying around and giving you that very much holiday feel.

He buys you a hot cocoa and hands it to you. “Are you heading home soon?”

You take a sip, your tongue hot. “If my ratty dorm counts as home, then yes.”

“Home is a feeling, not a place. Does your ratty dorm feel like home?”

“Kind of. Lia’s there. And so is the rat infestation in the ceiling.”

Mark nearly chokes on his cocoa. “You’re gross as fuck.”

You let out a loud laugh, your beanie nearly falling off with the bounciness of it. Mark reaches behind you to catch it, pressing a kiss to your lips in the process, soft and light and God, you like it. A lot. “Clumsy,” he remarks, pulling it back on and dragging a generous amount of your hair in front of your eyes as he does it. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon, and thank God we’re nearly done with this paper.”

“It was my genius idea to combine bargaining and depression,” you quip. “That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mark Lee.” He laughs at that. His laugh, you’ve noticed, is goddamn loud, and it’s a literal cackle, but he always looks so happy when he laughs. And buoyant. “You look stupid,” you say, but the smile on your face is undeniable. He glares playfully at you, taking your hand and walking you both in the direction of your building.

“New York in the snow,” he hums. “Always a great place.”

“It’s full of tourists,” you counter. Always disagreeing.

He chuckles and then, like clockwork—like how you’ve done it for the past six dates—you separate when you’re just shy of a meter away from the lobby entrance. Your fingers curl in search of his, and you jog up the steps, eager to get into the warmth of the building. The lobby’s pretty empty, save for a couple of students. Mark’s ahead of you, already pressing the elevator button and waiting impatiently. 

“We’re alone,” he sing-songs, his eyebrows wiggling. The doors open right as you take Mark’s hand, and you look up to meet Daniel’s wide eyes. Then you look to the right to meet Lia’s.

Despite your inner turmoil, you remain nonchalant, pinching Mark’s wrist instead of holding it like you’d planned. “That’s why our professor fucking hates you,” you say, narrowing your eyes. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, but you muster a neutral expression, shoving your hands back into your pockets. Lia knows you, though, and her furrowed eyebrows and parted lips say everything—but you just shrug, playing off what they could have caught you doing. “Hey,” you say, walking into the elevator with Mark. It all blows over.

AKA: Daniel has to drag a curious Lia away from you, with a promise that you would converse later. You and Mark are alone again, in the elevator, your hands barely touching, laughs loud. It’s all blurry after that. You’re high on a laugh and the thought of a kiss—you drag him over to your room, hands in his hair, breathless, loose kisses. You’re both so exhausted, though, that all you manage to extend your energy to is taking your tops off and making out lazily to the songs you’d recommended to each other.

“Mm,” he says when one of your songs starts playing. “It’s a nice song.” You nod with a smile. “I know it is, it’s one of my recommendations. It’s called Softly.” He plays with the strap of your bra. “I’ll give it more of a listen, then. Also, a red bra to school? Whatever will the professors think,” he jokes lightly, pressing insistent, but soft kisses on your shoulder. You laugh, pinching the inner part of his arm and eliciting a swear from him. “I was joking! I know you wore this for me, stupid.” The wind whistles outside, barely audible from the half-open window across the room, overlapping with the music.

This all feels too real, now.

You pout lazily against his bare chest. “Get off before Lia gets in,” you mumble, your heart beginning to race. He does, for what it’s worth, rolling off your bed with a loud thump and tugging his shirt and sweater back on. You watch him (fondly) annoyedly, your hair draping over you as you get up to properly shove him out. “Out, out,” you chant, laughing, and he giggles, turning abruptly to poke at your waist.

“Shut up,” you groan, a smile on your face. There’s a beat, then he pulls you close and kisses you, running outside right after with a literal guffaw. You watch him, wrapping your fleece blanket around your frame as he runs to the elevator, sweater backwards and hair messy.

—

Doubts are normal. This you’re assured of, but your head pounds with the sheer amount of things you’re cramming into it. You squint impossibly harder, trying to get the nail polish into the crook of Lia’s nail. You’ve probably overdone it, judging by the way she jabs her knuckle in between your eyebrows, her face contorted in worry. “Are you…okay?”

You narrow your eyes, the inner debate of telling her raging on and on. The nail polish drips onto her fingernail, rolling onto her pant leg, and she yelps, but her eyes are still on you. “You can tell me anything,” she says, softer this time. You know she’s serious—you know you can. You always have. You told her about every fling, one night stand, pregnancy scare, bad grade, hot professor, and spoiled deli food you’d encountered since you ever became friends. She knew you. And you were so sure she knew what you were about to say.

Except you didn’t know what you wanted to say. Your feelings were a mess, and you wanted one thing as much as you wanted the other. You couldn’t place what you wanted, and if you had to narrow it down, you’d realize that you were scared of what you wanted. You were never really one for commitment, or a relationship, or really anything, for that matter. And the fact that you were so hung up on thinking about what you and Mark would become—Mark? It all seemed so dystopian, almost. Like you’d never expected it. Your friendship was a childhood bubble that popped in the span of your first high school semester, and that was that. But just two days ago you were being kissed all over by the same guy you’d had a cutthroat student council president competition with.

It seemed so absurd? Crazy? Those adjectives were a little over the top. Deep down, if you dug deep enough into the parts you didn’t even tell yourself, you knew what you were. And if anybody else were to know, it would be Lia.

“I’m scared,” you choke out, your voice shaky. “I’m scared and sad, and happy and angry, and I want this but I don’t.” You cover the nail polish, shaking your head. “This is all so new to me. I hate how much I feel, especially because it feels so wrong. You know me—relationships are just not cut out for me. They’re scary and new. And people in relationships turn all gooey. I’m scared that this won’t last, but I’m scared that it will, and I’ll be doomed to an eternity of bland, padlocked relationships. It��s weird. I could be feeling this way for anyone, but it had to be Mark? If only I didn’t hate him, then maybe we could’ve gone off on a better foot. If only this whole thing never fucking happened, right?”

“It’s okay,” Lia cuts in. “Being scared is okay. It’s part of the whole process. And nobody said you had to get along like conjoined twins in a relationship. They just go when they go and end when they end. Not every relationship starts as a high school sweetheart thing and ends with three kids and a picket fence. And I’m so sure Mark would be so understanding if you didn’t like him or if you chose not to continue.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Of course I knew. I know a post-sex glow when I see one, and I was blinded that morning at the ski lodge.” You groan, pinching her indignantly, hiding your face in your hands as she laughs out of view. “Okay. Take some time and think about it, but for now, I want to get my nails done, so.” 

—

It’ll be a week before you come up with what you want, and the whole time you generally avoid talking about solemn topics with him in person. 

It’ll be another few days before you finally talk to him personally—with your paper nearly finished, you suggest a meeting at the library. It’s just two days before Christmas Eve, and you know Mark’s going to be driving to Canada, so you want to snatch him away for your own personal time for just a second. The snow has all but thickened as you meet outside the building, the silence deafening.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. You know he’s probably picked up on your erratic, quieter behavior in the past several days, but you gulp and lead him inside anyways, to your favorite section. “It’s almost Christmas Eve,” he says, watching you stall, surrounded by Philosophy books from just about every century. “I know,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too nervous.

“You sound nervous,” he says.

“Do I?” you ask shakily, your voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch. “I mean, er. I guess I sort of am. I guess I’ve been thinking about everything lately—about you and me and everything that just happened so suddenly. Because—because it did happen so suddenly. I just…needed time? Yeah, time. To think about everything. Because it all happened so quickly, I…” you stutter. “I’m scared of these things. I’m not used to them. Relationships? Things that last longer than a couple weeks? I don’t like these. 

I have something bigger I want to focus on and anybody who gets in the way just isn’t worth it. And it’s so weird how it was you out of all people I started thinking about it with. Usually I just have the rare fling and then they’re gone, and I’m not even mad. But you’re different. And I like it. 

But I just needed time to find out if I really liked it. If I really wanted to try. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I probably sound really fucking stupid, but you get me—you get me, right? And that’s how I realized—if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t know why I overthought it. I mean, it’s a good thing and a bad thing that I did. Like, on one hand, I got to really think about how this would play out, and on the other, I’d just end up spiraling. And it’s just weird. I hope you don’t know I hated you. Hate you? Hated you. I was just—it was all so juvenile. Everything just stemmed from that one awfully dumb high school rivalry. But other than that, you were always a cool…see what I mean? I’m kind of rambling—even if I thought I had planned this out. And. Yeah. I dunno. I fucking…I hate you, stop laughing.”

Mark smiles down at you—you’re busy pretending to read a Sartre book to look unfazed, but your flickering gaze says it all. 

“Okay, stupid,” he says, bordering onto a laugh. “If that’s your way of saying you’re willing to give this a try, then I graciously accept. Should I be saying something equally long? I—is that how this works?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him instead, pulling him close, Sartre’s postulates dropping to the floor alongside your tiptoes.

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

“Acceptance is just that. Just accepting that you love that person after weeks or months of all the other stages. With her, it was. Like. It’s the whole sitting down after silence, having some time for the revelation to set in before you realize you love them. Or like them? Well, love them, I guess. But I don’t know why you would be asking me this.”

You bury your head further into Mark’s shoulder, your eyes strained from how long they’d been trained onto your screen. You smile up at Daniel, thanking him for the input and beginning to type it in, watching Lia doze off on his shoulder. “We’re asking because we’re not quite there yet,” Mark hums, “it’s just February. It’s barely been two months.” You nod, watching Mark type where you left off on the document. Daniel snorts from across you. “You’re just about, I guess.” Mark chuckles, shrugging so your head bounces off his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Like I’d ever fall in love with that shitstorm,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, and I’d fall in love with this dickwad?”

“You’re perfect for each other. Bullying, but we all know Mark brought back gifts from Canada and that you stitched an initial onto his sweater.”

“To practice my embroidery. Also, I stitched Mark’s initial. M. Asshole.”

“Okay,” whistles Daniel, his hand unconsciously coming up to make sure Lia doesn’t fall off his shoulder. “But hey, you’re just about to submit this paper and I’m fondly remembering all the times you despised each other. And when you”—he points at you, devilish grin on his face—“started gushing to Lia about how he”—he then turns to Mark—“kissed you at Johnny’s party.”

“God, it’s not the time for that yet, we’re still a fresh couple,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. “You have so much dirt on me, Choi.” Mark just laughs, though, loudly, bringing the other cafe-goers’ attention to yours. He bites your shoulder to stifle it, eliciting a laugh from you. “I agree, there should be a certain time requirement for pre-relationship embarrassing stories,” Mark says, closing his laptop. Lia gets up at that point, already half-awake from the ruckus (AKA Mark’s laugh), pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. “Alright, and that’s my cue to get this girl some more coffee and then go.”

“Mm, I’ll come with,” you say, “I need a refresher before we leave soon, anyway.”

You walk in between them, your fingers laced in Lia’s as she squeezes them sleepily. They order first and then they’re off with a smile and a polite goodbye, leaving you to order your drink. You gaze up at the menu, and then down at—

“Long time no see,” Chan says with a knowing beam. “How is your not boyfriend boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

“See, I always know. What do you want?”

“An iced ca—how did you know?” You ask, tempted.

“It’s just…the energy? It was a hit or miss, but I kinda got that feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “An iced caramel then.”

“And a black coffee for her best friend!” Hollers a new voice that you could never miss, turning slowly towards the entrance to meet Donghyuck’s crazy eyes. He’s in a suit, which isn’t unusual given the sheer amount of presentations he’s had to do since the new year started. You roll your eyes but put in the extra cash anyway, much to Chan’s amusement. Hyuck nears you with a sly grin. “I hear you’ll be submitting your paper soon. I just want my name in there so I’m in your professor’s good graces.”

“She’s not even going to be your professor, Hyuck,” you say, taking your drink and smiling at Chan. You and Donghyuck both walk back to where Mark’s sitting, you beside him and Hyuck across the both of you. “Yes, but it pays to be in somebody’s good graces, I swear. See what happened? I got you two together. I orchestrated your entire love st—”

“Okay, now you’re just lying, Hyuck,” Mark says with a laugh, finishing up the first few paragraphs and closing his laptop. “We’re not even in love.” But his friend lets out a teasing smile, his eyes narrowed, and he gets up with a loud farewell and alibi about “being needed by my better friends.” You assume he’s talking about Jeno.

—

You walk to Mark’s room alongside him, thanks to the promise of his roommate, Jaemin, sleeping at a friend’s. Your fingers are intertwined loosely. The sun’s setting and Mark’s room is sheathed in beautiful shades of orange and pink, a vast array of dusk settling over the space. It happens quietly, but full of laughs, which is how it happens when you’re both tired and/or shitfaced. You do this a lot—a routine of sharing new songs or books you’d picked up over the week and then making out while they play in the background or while one of you read. It’s awfully, horribly, terribly fucking intimate. 

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

“Get better abs and we can talk about it,” you counter, poking his toned stomach. He really, fully guffaws at that, pulling you onto his lap and then tugging his guitar out from where it stands at the corner. You flop back onto his bed, watching him play—and then registering the familiar opening of the Jonas Brothers song you used to request nearly everyday. “Lovebug,” you muse with a smile, singing along to his voice, carried away. You’re sleepy and light, and you know deep down—in that space of yourself where you’re all but honest—that you were going to fall in love with him someday.

Later, when all you’re doing is hugging him as he reads your latest Philosophy requirement to you, he pauses.

“Is this the 21st century idea of love?” He asks idly, unclasping your bra and connecting the moles on your shoulder. You hum. 

“It’s the Gen Z idea,” you say, connecting the ones on his bare back. “And this isn’t love.”

“Corny.” he smiles against your collarbones. You kiss his neck. It’s all very gradual.

—

hope you liked it :) drop an ask! I absolutely love all types of feedback 

#mark lee #mark lee imagines #mark imagines #mark drabbles

[bunny-xoxo]

To Call You Mine

college!tsuki x reader series

Ch. 3 - not a buddy, just a tutor

warning(s): toxic relationship behavior, toxic mindset, loneliness ☹️, kind of some Angst 😶

a/n: hehehehe I loved the way some of y’all were reacting about the boyfriend part LMAO , I hope you enjoy this ch!! And you know I love love love hearing from you guys :)

Ch. 1 Ch. 2

“Tomorrow, we’ll be sure to review…”

You couldn’t focus on what your professor said as you left the classroom, thumbs moving at the speed of light as you texted Tsukishima back urgently.

Wednesday 12:02 pm

- ‘Omg, I seriously owe you sm. Class wasn’t perfect but it kind of made SENSE! Ty fr :)’

You probably looked like an idiot smiling so big down at your phone but you couldn’t fathom how relieved you felt versus the usual existential dread that hung over you nearly every other day after Calc.

You turn your ringer back on as you shove your phone into your pocket, remnants of a small smile resting on your face. Still reeling from your accomplished high, you figured some celebratory coffee would-

ding

You think the speed at which you snatched your phone back out, almost fumbling it in the process, was more embarrassing than how you were smiling earlier. It just felt nice to hear some validation from Tsuki, you haven’t known him long - at all - but it didn’t feel like a regular occurrence with him. And it kind of made you feel special if you were being honest.

Kai💗😩🥳

- ‘Still down to hang?’

Your cheeks began to hurt with how often you were smiling today. Not who you were expecting, but it made you pleased nonetheless to see your boyfriends contact pop up onto your screen. You clicked on the message and unlocked your phone, typing your response chalk full of cheesy emojis.

ding

ding

ding

ding

The notifications momentarily pause your movements as you read the banners quickly and quietly to yourself.

Tsukishima :)

- ‘sounds like you still need a tutor 🙄’

- ‘and np’

- ‘if you need to go over today’s lesson before Sunday just text me and we’ll figure something out.’

- ‘but we’re still on for Sunday so no there’s no getting out of that.’

You made a mental note to finish your text to Kai in a moment, swiping to get to Tsuki’s messages.

- ‘that eager to see me again? Aren’t you sweet 😌 I’m getting coffee as a gift for myself, if you’re not busy ig I could get you one too as a thanks 🙄’

You clicked your phone off once more, ignoring the string of sounds coming from your back pocket, instead choosing to focus on the walk there and mentally check your schedule to see when you were free. Maybe you’d take him up on his offer.

The walk was short enough to not have to worry about warming back up when you got inside, which really meant you could have an iced coffee without the consequences of a cold drink during the chilly autumn weather.

Walking up to wait in line, you debated between choosing your regular order or trying something new. Your eyes bore into the menu with an intensity comparable to someone like Kai on the court. You giggled quietly to yourself at such a clever thought before going back to deciding what you wanted before it was your turn to order.

“Hmm, blatantly ignoring me and giggling to yourself about it? You certainly are in a mood, aren’t you?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of a familiar cocky voice behind you, warmth emitting from his chest that almost had you backing into it.

You huffed and turned your head over your shoulder to see Tsuki, the man of the hour, looming over you with that shit eating grin.

“You think you’re cute sneaking up on me like that?” You squinted your eyes and reached out to lightly smack his, surprisingly quite firm, chest.

“Adorable, actually.” His smile got even wider when you rolled your eyes and tried not to smile yourself, turning your attention back to the menu.

“You know, if you would’ve answered my texts you would’ve had a coffee waiting for you already.” Tsuki commented and sighed, feigning annoyance with you as he watched you glance between him and your phone, now in your hand, in confusion.

Tsukishima :)

- ‘not eager to see you, eager to tutor you more so I get to see you less ❤️’

- ‘and now you’re offering to buy me a drink? Who really wants to see who’

- ‘I’m already here anyway, just text me what you want.’

- ‘you’re offer expires in about 39 seconds.’

- ‘😐’

- ‘sucks for you ig.’

You chuckle and put your phone away, cooing playfully about how sweet he is as you watch his arrogant smile slowly fade away from his face. It wasn’t until you gained the attention of a couple people around you that he had enough, muttering about how annoying you are and how he can’t wait to get rid of you as he nudges you up to the cashier.

Placing your order, you step to the side and wait - and apparently Tsukishima was going to be waiting with you.

“So, you said you felt more comfortable in class?”

His face was more serious now as he asked you the question, no playful smiles or a snarky demeanor. You could tell he was just waiting for a genuine answer.

His eyebrows rested softly on his face as you spoke. They sat not too far above his eyes that were slightly wider than normal, occasionally raising in response to the lilts in your voice. His lips were only slightly parted, resting in a fine line. He looked, contemplative.

“Oh, hey babe!”

A familiar booming voice cuts you off mid rant, your face and body twisting into it’s direction.

“I thought you were maybe talking to your calc professor or somethin’ since you didn’t answer my text right away like you usually do.” Kai, your boyfriend, was right next to you now. His long, strong arm pulling you into his side to keep you there, pressing a kiss to the side of your head in the process.

He turned his attention to Tsukishima now, eyeing him up and down before offering him his own signature grin: all toothy, bright, and fake.

“I’m Kai, her boyfriend, nice to meet you.”

You internally screamed at the way he had to emphasize the fact that he was your boyfriend, and then internally screamed even louder at the way Tsukishima chuckled - no scoffed - at what Kai said.

Not every person to ever be in your presence was a threat to the security of your relationship.

You hated how over protective he could be sometimes, even if he means well. Deciding now wasn’t the time to mull over your recent relationship troubles, you gave Tsuki an “I’m sorry he can be like that sometimes” glance.

Squeezing quickly onto Kai’s arm, you took your turn to speak before either of them could.

“This is Tsukishima, my frien-“

“What’s so funny?” Kai had that smile still, but tilted his head just enough to show he wasn’t really smiling.

“I’m Tsukishima Kei, her tutor, nice to meet you. I just think it’s funny our names are so similar, that’s all.”

Tsuki’s smirk screamed “I’m a liar and that’s most definitely not what I’m laughing about”, and his eyes gleamed with playfulness, toying with the limits of your boyfriends patience.

Kai was a well built man. 6’2”, not too lean but not too big, and a wide frame. And when you pair that with his resting face and his usual, presence, he likes to carry, he’s not always the most approachable person. And he certainly doesn’t make it easy when he’s actively trying to be intimidating, or whatever it is he does. But thankfully Tsukishima’s either too stupid to notice or simply doesn’t care; either way you appreciate the consistency in his attitude.

What you didn’t appreciate was being cut off.

“Like I was trying to say, Tsukishima’s a friend. M-“

“Oh, so we’re friends now? I wouldn’t say a single tutoring session makes us friends.” Tsuki’s silly little smirk was short lived as he met your eyes.

You really didn’t appreciate being cut off. Twice. And maybe you didn’t appreciate this little attitude of his.

“Oh? Well I didn’t know acquaintances offered to buy the other coffee.” Your eyes bore into his with a harsh stare, making the tips of his ears start to turn red before he did his best to make up for himself.

“They do when they’re trying to get to know them better. I mean, if that’s allowed?” The expectant glare Tsukishima gave Kai made your blood run cold.

Such an asshole.

You clenched your jaw and huffed, but before you or Kai could get to speak, Tsuki beat you both to it.

“Just text me and we’ll figure something out, see you Sunday if not sooner.”

And with that he was gone, snatching his bag up and shoving his belongings into it carelessly before pushing through the door.

The gust of wind that blew through was appropriately cold for the situation.

“Order for (y/n)!”

—

“How am I the dick here?” Kai’s voice bounced off the walls in your cramped dorm, his harsh tone echoing from all corners of the space.

Thankfully, most people were probably out in a class or eating lunch at this time like Bonnie was.

“Why do you have to make everything a pissing contest between you and any man in my general vicinity? I don’t know Kai, maybe I’d like to fucking have another friend besides Bo-“

“Oh don’t guilt trip m-“

Interrupted, again.

“Quit doing that! Quit cutting me off just let me speak!”

You felt your voice crack from the extensive length the two of you have been going at it, just trying to get a word out. The tension was high in the room as you calmed yourself down and caught your breath, doing your best to swallow the growing lump in your throat.

“Just,”, you groaned and covered your face with your hands for a brief moment before continuing,

“We’re supposed to be working on our trust, Kai.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke up softly.

“Babe, it’s not you that I don’t trust.”

You sighed deeply as you felt the hot tears that had been waiting to spill run down your cheeks.

“Kai. That’s bullshit. It doesn’t matter that you don’t trust other people or whatever the hell you’re saying, cause I’m the one being affected by your feelings and actions. I’m the one who might lose a possible friend because you’re insecure.”

That must’ve been his last straw. Because instead of another sharp response, it was silent. The sound of the door clicking open making noise rather than him himself.

It caught your attention as you looked up to watch Kai begin to leave just barely hearing him say,

“I’ll talk to you later.”

The silence that filled the space after he left was suffocating. You wanted to scream, cry, and go to bed all at once. And the latter didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

You rolled onto your bed and clutched onto your blanket tight, not wanting to let your feelings fester and think about how angry you were right now. But you couldn’t stop yourself when your chest grew heavy as you began to sob, you hated how often he’d just avoid an issue. But right now, that’s exactly what you felt like doing, too.

Sitting up, you changed and crawled under the covers, deciding a nap was the only way you were gonna be able to give yourself a break right now. And you were completely right.

Not before changing his contact to just, “Kai”, of course.

He doesn’t deserve the emojis right now.

—

It was dark and your skin was clammy when you woke up, your head pounding. You were in desperate need of a drink of water. Sitting up slowly, rubbing your face in a desperate attempt to smooth away your grogginess, you hopped off your bed towards your desk.

Why does being with him have to be so draining?

You’ve never felt like your relationship was perfect or easy, but you’ve also never felt like it wasn’t worth it. How often does someone stay with their high school sweetheart - albeit off and on - until their second year in college? And besides, you were both trying to make it easy for each other at the least.

Making friends was easy for you, it was keeping them that was hard. Remembering to set aside time to make plans, or even remember to make them in the first place. Or even doing something simple like shooting them a text, whether it was your nerves or not you’ve always just told yourself you’re too busy and too focused to spend time creating a bunch of lasting friendships.

But Kai? Kai’s always stuck around, no matter how many times he’s reminded you how often you’ve made things difficult for the two of you. Even when he’s left he’s come back, willing to listen and figure it all out. He’s always been your one and only. But that’s also the problem;

He’s always been your one and only.

Recently it’s felt like no matter what you do, he’s the reason you can’t keep a friend.

Why need a friend when you have Kai, he’s basically your friend, too, right? They want too much of your time, they’re too touchy, they’re too pushy, shouldn’t you be studying? Shouldn’t you be hanging out with him?

You plopped down into your desk chair and placed your head in your hands, your thoughts beginning to overwhelm you again.

ding

Peeking an eye over to your phone, still sitting on your nightstand from where you left it earlier, you reluctantly made your way over to see who was bothering you.

Bon Bon 🥐💗

- ‘Ahhhhh! Sorry I’m not back yet (even though I don’t think you and Kai will mind lolol) I’m just gonna stay at my friends house for the night so don’t worry bout me! Just a late night study sesh gone too long is all :) love ya girlie!’

A sudden wave of loneliness washed over you as you tried not to cry again, you were getting annoyed at how many times you felt like crying tonight.

You stared at her message for a few more moments before finally sending your reply.

- ‘you’re good :) we’re having a late night movie sesh so I’m gonna get back to that! ily 2 see u tmrw ❤️’

You don’t know why you felt like you had to lie, maybe you just didn’t want to have to explain it all right now, or worry her.

You noticed you had a few more messages waiting to be read, too. Although none were from Kai.

Tsukishima :)

4:32 pm

- ‘sorry if I came off weird earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or upset, I just didn’t like how Kai was acting.’

5:01 pm

- ‘by how Kai was acting I mean he just acted like he had a problem with me when we’ve never even met before. I know I antagonized him too though so to be more specific I’m sorry about that.’

- ‘I’m also sorry if I caused friction between you two, let me know if you’re still comfortable with me tutoring you or if you’d rather me find you someone else. I know some pretty nice ones.’

- ‘just to clarify though I personally don’t have a problem continuing to tutor. Don’t want you to think you did anything to upset me.’

You sniffled and glanced up to the small digits in the upper left hand corner of your screen.

11:56 pm

Jesus.

You stared at his texts for a while, unsure of what to say but also relieved at the fact he texted you. Seems like you were worried about Kai spoiling this budding friendship for you more than you thought.

Thursday 12:03 am

- ‘ty for the apology I really appreciate that. It was kind of awkward but Kai also really played into the whole situation so I’m sorry for how he acted too. I’m very okay with you being my tutor still but ty for asking’

- ‘I’m actually free to even study now lol’

- ‘you do still owe me that coffee’

You felt the tiniest of weights lift off your shoulders as you sent your messages. It felt nice knowing-

ding

..

There’s no way he should be up this late. Doesn’t he have crazy early workouts for volleyball or something?

Tsukishima :)

- ‘ofc. I’m actually at the library now if you want to join me :) same spot as last time’

The fact he replied so quickly was surprising, and his seemingly equal eagerness to see you surprised you even more. But, in a pleasantly surprised kind of way.

You smiled down at your phone, sitting up and slipping your slides on at a lethal pace. It felt good to smile a little bit.

And really, it’s not like you had anything better to do. Plus, being alone right now doesn’t exactly sound like too much fun.

You texted him a quick, “omw!”, before slipping out of your dorm.

You could guess Tsukishima is just as lonely as you are with how quick he seemed to invite you to a study session.

Hmph. Acquaintances my ass.

—————————

Any thoughts on Kai? On y/n and their relationship? ?Any thoughts at all??? Send em my way :)

taglist for series: @plutowrites @c0rncheez @ruetaro @toyas-wife @devilkou @anime-and-kpop-trash @haley-talks-too-much @jiungsfav @sergeant102105 (if you’d like to be added or removed let me know!)

#did you notice how y/n changed Tsukishimas contact beheheheh #TSUKIS KINDA DOWN BAD… LOOK AT ALL THOSE TEXTS OML #hq <3 #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader #tsukishima x reader #hq tsukishima #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima hcs #tsukishima fanfiction #tsuki fluff #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima kei #tsuki x reader

[andromedasstarship]

i could not choose between 77-80 so i overbearingly ask u to use each of them with spencer reid if u wish 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

80. “Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.” + 77- “If you want to leave, we can leave.”

send a prompt + character from this list! 

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - stress?? mostly fluff 

a/n - tysm kenna for requesting this i love you and i loved writing this. i also went overboard on this one bye! ive also never posted something this long in an ask reply before so if this looks weird BYE!

Your car had long gone cold, but you still couldn’t find the energy to pull yourself out yet. It was futile to try and wrestle your emotions into a tightly sealed box; as soon as you crossed the threshold of the town-home you shared with Spencer, you knew he’d be able to read you like a book. Damn genius profiler skills.

Taking a quick look at the time you knew you had to suck it up and go inside; you were pushing how ‘late’ you could be without him worrying something had happened on your commute home. With a deep sigh, you grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and exited the car; taking your sweet time with locking the car behind you and digging your house keys out of the bottom of your bag.

To put it simply, it had been a difficult year. It was the final year of your Phd. program and while- all things considered- you had had an amazing time, the past few months had been both physically and mentally draining. What was once your lifelong passion had suddenly started to feel like a chore; a chore you felt you weren’t even good at anymore. Almost every day was spent either in your own classes or teaching undergrads. Almost every night was spent on the final edits of your thesis or grading work from your students. The few moments of freedom you found were spent doing the boring parts of adult life: housekeeping, getting your car fixed, calling elderly family members, etc.

Neither of you had formerly addressed it, but you knew it was taking a toll on your relationship. Spencer being busy was a constant, but it was normally balanced out by your typical 9-5 schedule. But recently, even on the nights he was home you’d be too wrapped up in your own work to even sit down and eat dinner with him. By the time you crawled into bed he’d be long asleep and in the mornings you’d been leaving for work earlier and earlier in order to get research time in at the university library. It felt like the two of you hadn’t even been awake in the same room for weeks, let alone do anything relationship-y.

Tonight was supposed to change that. Kind of. His team was having a fancy dinner to celebrate some major milestone that you couldn’t remember. It’d been on the books for months, but kept getting pushed back by surprise cases. It felt like everyone held their breath this week, waiting for a case to pop up, but instead everyone was left pleasantly surprised when no such thing happened. It was going to be a great night: classic Rossi pasta dish, all partners and kids invited. Even though the two of you wouldn’t be alone, it’d still be a perfectly good excuse to get out, put on some nice outfits and have a fun evening with friends.

Spencer had been particularly excited. The past week, you felt as if it was the only thing he ever talked about. Not that the two of you were having extensive conversations. He kept talking about how great it would be to get out of the house and how much he was looking forward to having a totally work free evening. His excitement warmed your heart.

Which is why you were taking so long to find your keys. Today had been one of the hardest day you’d experienced in a long time. The thesis meeting you had with your advisor- that you’d been staying up late every night editing for- had gone horribly; it was as if everything you prepared was wrong. Almost every student in the class you taught scored poorly on the latest assessment- on a unit you considered yourself an expert on-, something you viewed as a failure of your ability to convey the info. And to top it all off, even though you felt as if you’d spent hours upon hours working yourself to the bone the past week- in order to clear space for tonight-, you still felt as if you had piles of work to catch up on.

You knew the stress and tension of the day would read clear on your body as soon as Spencer got a look at you. And with how excited he’d been, you absolutely didn’t want to ruin the dinner. You’d hate for him to feel as if you were being selfish or that you couldn’t even prioritize him in your schedule.

You took one last deep breath, before going to put the key into the doorknob. Just as you touched the handle, the door swung open from the other side.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, one hand clutching your chest as you nearly jumped out of your skin. In front of you was Spencer, smiling down at you with that irresistible grin of his.

“Did I scare you? Sorry. I thought I heard you car pull up earlier and when you didn’t come in I thought maybe something was wrong so I wanted to come check-”

You quickly cut him off- even though you did find his worrying a bit endearing- by pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

“A good song came on just as I pulled in, couldn’t just get out.” You lied, adding a small laugh for effect. It was an on brand situation for you, something certainly believable. If Spencer had any doubts, he didn’t question you, simply moved out of the doorframe so you could step in.

Inside the house, you set your bag down by the front door like you always did. While kicking your shoes off, you pulled your jacket off, smiling when Spencer had his hands already open to hang it on the rack. You knew he had that ridiculous memory- and you had a pretty set routine-, but it still made your heart swell every time he anticipated your next move and went the extra mile to be helpful.

“So, how was your day?" Spencer asked, as the two of you made your way to the kitchen area. “What’d Professor Addams have to say in your meeting?”

You clenched at the handle of the fridge, grinding your teeth before pulling the door open. When you turned to look at Spencer, you saw he made himself comfortable on one of the countertop stools.

“Went well. They gave me some uh, um, some comprehensive revisions.” You said flatly, turning back to face the fridge; missing the skeptical look Spencer was throwing you.

“That’s good?” He said slowly, before adding, “well how was class? You just wrapped up the last unit didn’t you?” You both knew he knew the answer, but was just attempting to further the conversation. Had it been any other day you would’ve found it endearing, but today just wasn’t that day.

You slammed the fridge door shut, just hard enough to be cause for concern. “I thought tonight was absolutely no shop talk. Huh? Why don’t we just start that rule now.” You said, a slight edge to your voice. It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault.

“Are you okay-”

“Yes! I just don’t-”

“If there’s something wrong, you know you can tell-”

“There’s nothing wrong-”

“Do you need to stay-”

“Stop!” You exclaimed, bringing an end to the constant cutting each other off. “Everything is fine. Okay?” You said, unable to maintain eye contact.

Spencer slowly nodded, though you could tell he didn’t believe an ounce of what you had just said. Luckily for you, he seemed to let it go, falling back in his seat.

“I’m gonna go shower and get ready and then we can leave, alright?” You asked rhetorically. When he just nodded again, you very quickly walked up to him and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

---

The ride to Rossi’s was silent, something that normally wouldn’t have bothered either of you had it not been for the borderline argument you had in the kitchen. As you pulled up a few cars down from the house, you caught Spencer staring at you from the passenger seat, a slightly concerned look on his face.

“Stop doing that.” You huffed out, but there was no real bite in your voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked gently, reaching out to push a piece of your hair away from your face. God that was sweet.

You quickly nodded and threw a very forced smile his way, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m fine. I promise, come on.” You said, killing the engine and pushing open your car door.

Before you could fully open the door, Spencer’s arm shot out across your body and pulled the door back shut with a bang.

“Spencer!” You yelped, startled by his sudden movement. You turned and gave him a bewildered look.

“You always look over my head when you lie.” Spencer stated.

“Oh I do not-” You started, but letting the sentence fall flat as soon as you realized you currently were looking over his head.

“Your favorite song came on the radio, twice, on the drive here and you didn’t react at all either times.” He said. When you still didn’t say anything he continued. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me.”

The look he was giving you was making you feel all sorts of guilty. Of course he cared, that’s why you loved him so much. You just didn’t want to ruin something that’d been in the works for so long, all because you had a bad day.

“Spencer,” you started, giving him a very pointed look and making sure to hold eye contact, “I’m fine. Can we just go in?”

Spencer shook his head, externally searching your face for more clues while also internally thinking back to any clues from your kitchen fight. “We aren’t going anywhere, until you talk to me.” He urged.

It probably wasn’t the best move on his part, seeing as you both were incredibly stubborn. The two of you were unrelenting, both staring blankly at the other; hoping the other one would break first. After nearly 5 minutes of silence, it became very clear that neither of you were standing down anytime soon.

Spencer reached his hand out again, gently cupping your cheek; internally you cursed your body’s natural reaction to lean into his touch. “What’s going on?” He asked, voice much softer than earlier.

You were internally screaming over how caring he was. Damn him! You cursed yourself for not being able to just play the role of perfect partner for one night.

“I’m exhausted.” You said, voice quiet. “My meeting went horrible day. I absolutely failed at teaching my students the last unit. I’ve been bringing so much work back to the house I haven’t even been able to give you a second of attention. And now we have this dinner that you’ve been looking forward to for months and I don’t want to ruin-”

This time, it was Spencer that quickly cut off your rambles with a kiss.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, as if it were the most simple thing ever

You gave him a shocked look. “Spencer, you’ve been talking about this dinner for weeks. I, I can’t ask you to put this off, you and the team rarely get time to-”

“If you want to leave, we can leave.” He said. His voice was so sincere it made the whole thing that much more difficult. He was too good.

“Spencer, no.” You said, putting special emphasis on the ‘no’. “We haven’t even walked in the door, there’s nothing to leave yet. I’m not going to ruin the dinner we’ve all been planning on for months. I’ll be fine for a couple hours.”

He didn’t answer, instead pulled his phone out and quickly started to type out a text.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Rossi, I’m gonna tell him you aren’t feeling well and we can’t come anymore.”

“We’re outside his house! It’s not a big deal-!

“Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner!” Spencer cut you off, giving you a very pointed look. You weren’t sure your heart could take the swelling much longer.

“Spencer, you’ve been planning-”

“I don’t want to hear it-”

“You’ve wanted to get out of the house for so long!” You stressed, giving him a ‘duh’ look.

“We can go do something else!” He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Just us, no pressure to be ‘on’ in front of anyone else.” That did sound good- No!

“I’m not gonna be the one who keeps their boyfriend away from his friends-”

“I see them every day. Every day. One dinner means nothing.” Spencer said confidently, clasping your hand tightly between his.

You contemplated for what seemed like hours; though it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.” Spencer said, giving you a very mock serious look; you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “There you are.” He said, smiling to match yours.

You turned the car on, clicking your seatbelt back into place. “So, where to pretty boy?” You asked.

“Well, I heard of this new ice cream place that just opened up. Their ‘claim to fame’ is they make over 50 flavors in store every single day. Did you know on average it takes nearly three hours from start to finish to make a single batch of ice cream? Or that when ice cream-”

You shook your head in amusement, chancing a couple glances in his direction as you were driving. You loved his excited ramblings and animated hand motions as he further explained the history of ice cream; as well as all the random facts about the place he was directing you to. As you got closer to your new destination, all you could think about was how lucky you were to, to be loved by someone who always knew just what to say.

---

permanent tags - @sunflowersandotherthings

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #'stori writes #kenna #'stori answers #spencer reid/you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid/gn!reader

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Chapter 5

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, eventual smut

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo

Masterlist

After your conversation with Baekhyun Monday evening Tuesday was spent desperately trying to get Baekhyun off your mind, with little success. He’d asked you if you liked him like that, and you couldn’t tell him no. Hell, you knew in the back of your mind that the answer was definitely yes, you just couldn’t bring yourself to say it to his face. 

As much as you did like him, the prospect of starting something with a customer who was also your professor was still terrifying. What if you two got together and people found out? Or what if things started to go south and you were still stuck with him as your teacher? 

Despite your other schoolwork, and cleaning basically everything you possibly could, your mind just kept racing with every different possible scenario for if you did tell Baekhyun how you felt. And most of them were quite unpleasant. He could lose his job, you could make class absolute hell for yourself if things didn’t go well, and so on. Different possibilities played themselves out in your mind over and over, and there was little you could do to stop it. 

However the thoughts that stuck with you the most were the ones where things didn’t end badly. Thoughts of his arms around you, his comforting words whispered in your ear, and the gentle touches of his pretty hands on your skin. As much as you fought it, the attraction was there. 

The way your mind bounced between thoughts was stressful to no end. Every time you tried reasoning with yourself, you just thought about how good he made you feel when you were alone together. 

Baekhyun was always so willing to be vulnerable with you, it made you feel appreciated. He was so open about his feelings, and honest with his intentions towards you that it made it difficult to push him away. You wanted to be able to show him the same kind of vulnerability as well, but the possibilities if you did still frightened you too much. 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to go on like this forever, sooner or later you had to figure out what to say to him. 

Your essay was plaguing you as well. You’d tried to start it on several occasions, but Plato’s writing was so old timey and incomprehensible you didn’t even know where to start. It also didn’t help that every time you tried to start writing, all you could think about was what Baekhyun would think. The idea of turning a shitty paper in for him to read and grade made you feel sick. You knew you were shooting yourself in the foot putting it off but you just couldn’t bring yourself to start it either. 

“You’ve cleaned everything in the apartment. Twice. What’s with you today y/n?” Mia asked as she walked out of her bedroom and into the common area, finding you once again wiping down all the surfaces in the kitchen. 

“I’m trying to distract myself, was that not obvious?” You knew what was coming next. 

“Baekhyun still on your mind?” 

Yes. He was. In every possible way, good and bad, and you couldn’t stop it. 

“I think I do like him.” 

“See! I knew it!” You rolled your eyes at her. “Anything exciting happen yesterday? Did you decide to keep the money?” She asked, sitting down at the dining room table, you sitting down across from her. 

 “I’m keeping it, I tried giving it back but he told me some stuff and turns out he doesn’t need it after all.” 

“So he IS rich?!” 

“Yeah... although not from anything cool or fun. His rich parents died recently.” 

“Oh shit, that sucks. That must’ve been an awkward conversation.” 

“Not really. I don’t know why but talking to him is getting easier and easier. I even stayed after he told me I could go.”

“You really must like him then, damn. Can’t blame you though, he is hot.” You shot her an angry look but you both knew she was right. “So what are you gonna do about it?” 

“Do about what?” 

“You liking him. He obviously likes you a lot too, so what happens next?” 

“Nothing. He’s my professor.” 

The look she shot you next said something reminiscent of ‘are you fucking serious’.

 “Oh come on y/n this guy is hot, and rich, and super into you. Even if he is your professor you can’t pass up a fling at least.” 

“And when it ends? What then? Or if someone finds out he’s fucking a student? He’d lose his job and it would be my fault.” 

“No, it would be his fault, and he’s rich anyway so it wouldn’t even matter.” 

You thought back to your last conversation with Baekhyun, and what he said about his parents. Even if he did choose to risk it for you, the thought of him losing a job that meant so much to him still didn’t sit right with you. 

“It would matter to me. Either way I don’t want other students shit talking me either. If my classmates found out there was something between us it would be hell.” 

“All I'm hearing right now, is that you just need to not get caught. The semester is only 16 weeks, as long as nothing gets out while you’re in his class nothing too bad can happen. You just have to be careful.”  

You thought about it, and she wasn’t exactly wrong. As long as nothing got out while you were his student, nothing too bad could happen. 

“He won’t lose his job if people find out we’re together later on when I’m not his student anymore, right?” 

Mia shrugged. “He doesn’t hold any power over you anymore then so I don’t see why he’d get in any trouble. People might just think it’s weird since he’s older. How old is he anyway? He looks young.” 

“I’m not exactly sure... Somewhere around 30? Late 20s maybe? I should ask him.” 

“Yeah you should. I still have homework I need to do, I should get back to that.” She said before getting herself a glass of water and retreating back to her bedroom. 

~

The next morning you were exhausted. You hadn’t gotten much sleep because of everything that was going through your head. You wanted Baekhyun, and he wanted you, but there was still too much risk involved. But part of you kept thinking about what Mia had said as well. Could a fling really be that bad? 

You were nervous to see him too. You still hadn’t given him an answer to his question, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to dodge it forever. Lying seemed like a decent option, but you knew with how honest and vulnerable Baekhyun always was with you, you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to lie to him. Especially when you did want something more with him, you were just scared. 

As philosophy class drew closer and closer you felt uneasy. You felt bad seeing Baekhyun again without giving him an answer, but you didn’t know how or what to say. You only hoped he wouldn’t press you for it. 

Class went by and you didn’t speak to him. He didn’t keep you after either, which was a relief. You had been hoping he’d at least go over some stuff that would help you on your essay, but you had no such luck, and you needed it done by midnight if you wanted any credit. 

When you got home you cursed yourself for procrastinating so much, but you had other homework too and you knew you’d be able to focus on that better, so you started it first. 

Eventually your mind got sucked into your physics assignment, and you forgot about Baekhyun and the essay, too focused on the task at hand. 

By the time you were done with your other assignments it was 8pm. Four hours until you had to submit your essay. One hour went by just reading and rereading the text you were supposed to write about. Another was wasted on an intro paragraph you kept deleting, because you still couldn’t understand the text. When 10pm hit, and you started to panic.  

You realized that you weren’t going to be able to do it. Your mind was now in freak out mode and you couldn’t concentrate anyway. Either the paper wasn’t getting turned in at all, or you needed to do something fast. In any other class you would’ve BS-ed  your way through it to turn at least something in, but you just couldn’t do that knowing Baekhyun was going to read it. You weren’t going to be able to submit it that night, but you needed to at least contact him and explain so he wouldn’t think you were stupid. 

By 10:30 you found yourself scrolling through your contacts, staring at his name. You’d thought about emailing him, but he probably wouldn’t see until morning and you didn’t have that much time. 

In hindsight you probably would’ve been fine to just send an email and try to get an extension, but the combination of anxiety over your grade and wanting to talk to him had his name in your phone looking better and better. 

So you called. 

Your nerves were on fire as you waited for him to hopefully pick up. Was this stupid? Would he even answer? Worst of all, what if he was disappointed in you for not being able to do the assignment?

After a few rings, he picked up. “Hello?” 

“Hi Baekhyun, it’s y/n.” 

“Y/n? Are you alright what’s going on?” You could hear the concern in his voice even over the phone, and you remembered why he gave you his number in the first place. 

“I- I can’t do the essay.” You felt your voice shake, before unloading all your grievances in one breath “I read the thing a million times and I still have no idea what it’s about and I put it off until tonight cause it was making me so anxious but I still can’t focus and now it’s too late and I don’t know what to do and I’m freaking out.” 

You heard him sigh. “Slow down, It’s okay, I know it’s a difficult assignment. Have you at least started?” 

“No..” You felt tears swelling in your eyes, threatening to spill and you’re sure he can hear it in your voice even over the phone. “Can I just skip this one? I tried to start it so many times but I don’t know how to analyze something I can’t even understand.” You choked out. 

“Y/n...” You could tell he was thinking of what to do. He probably shouldn’t give you special treatment, and you knew that but right now you hoped he would just give in. Unfortunately you had no such luck. “I’m sorry but I can’t let you just not do it. It would make it too obvious that I’m treating you differently than other students.”

“Then can you at least help me? Or give me more time? Please?” You begged.

“I’m still in my office. I can help you if you meet me here.” 

You felt your palms get sweaty and your heart beat faster at the idea of going to his office again after what had happened last time, especially this late at night and in such a fragile state. 

“O-okay. I’ll be there in 10. Bye.” You said, hanging up before he could respond.

Quickly you got on some shoes and drove yourself to the building his office was located in. Last time you’d been in there he’d asked you about your feelings for him, and now you had to go back. You told yourself to just focus on getting the essay done, but the thought still hung around in the back of your mind as you walked down the hall towards Baekhyun’s office. You felt jittery and embarrassed, but you needed to do this for your grade.

After taking a few deep breaths to ready yourself, you knocked on the door, and heard a muffled “Come in” from the other side, so you let yourself in. Baekhyun was sitting at his desk, which was covered in papers you assumed he’d been grading. Instead of the nicer clothes he would usually wear during lecture, he was just wearing a black t shirt and sweats now. 

“You know you scared the shit out of me when you called. I thought you were in danger or something.” He said to you as you sat down in front of him. “I really didn’t think you’d call me over school work.” 

“I’m sorry..” 

“It’s okay! I’m not mad or anything, just surprised. What part of the text are you having trouble with?” 

“All of it...” You felt your lip starting to quiver. “I’m sorry I know this sounds so stupid and you probably think I’m just trying to take advantage of how you like me but I promise it’s not like that.” You said, looking down and fidgeting with your hands, trying to hide the frustration on your face.

Baekhyun crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, smiling. “I never said I thought that. I told you it’s not an easy assignment, it’s ok if you’re having trouble. Plato can be difficult especially for people who aren’t used to reading things that old.” 

“I should’ve at least started earlier...” 

“Probably, but it’s too late to dwell on that now. Let’s just try to go over the reading together, yeah?” You nodded. 

He moved his chair to your side of the desk before opening your textbook to the reading for the essay. 

“So the first thing that makes The Ring of Gyges so confusing is that you don’t really know who’s talking. Basically it’s a conversation between Plato and his brother Glaucon where they’re discussing justice, and it’s actually Glaucon speaking for most of it, not Plato.” 

You were listening to what he was saying of course, but you were still distracted by the proximity. Baekhyun was sitting right next to you now, arms almost touching. The only other time the two of you got that close was at the club. And you did not need to be thinking about that while he was explaining your assignment to you. 

“Are you following me so far?” 

Your eyes immediately shot up from the book to meet his, and you quickly nodded. Having him look you in the eyes again like that made your face feel hot.

“Glaucon argues that people only peruse justice for the benefits of it, and not because they actually want to be good people. He uses the example of a ring that grants it’s user invisibility, therefore allowing them to do unjust things like steal without being caught. He tells Plato a story about a man who finds such a ring and uses it do overthrow the king.”

You groaned. “It still doesn’t make sense though, what does some story about a stupid ring have to do with justice?” 

“Well, if you were given the ability to steal and deceive people for your own benefit, without ever having to worry about getting caught, wouldn’t you do it too?” You stayed silent. “Basically, what you need to understand is what Glaucon is arguing. He’s saying that doing good deeds isn’t a part of human nature, and everyone would behave unjustly if they knew they would never get caught. Therefore, justice is something people pursue not out of want, but out of fear of the consequences if they don’t.”  

All you could do was stare at him. It was infuriating how attractive he sounded while explaining it to you. 

“Do you have a bit of a better idea what to write about now? Remember it’s only two pages, so don’t stress too much.” 

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts. “Yeah, it makes a bit more sense now... do I still need to finish it tonight or?” 

“Friday. Just email it to me by midnight on Friday and I won’t count it late.” He said, smiling again. 

“Thank you for doing this, I’m sorry it was so late and everything.”

Baekhyun just chucked, “You know if it’s you I don’t mind. You could keep me here all night with questions and I wouldn’t stop you. But you understand now, right?” 

The way he was smiling at you now along with the closeness was making you slightly dizzy. 

“I think so, Glaucon is basically saying that injustice is better than justice then right? Because everyone would do unjust things if they’d always get away with it.” 

Baekhyun nodded. 

“So according to him the best way to live life would be to do things you know are wrong, but without being caught.” 

“Exactly. See, I knew you were smart, y/n.” A smirk had made its way onto his face as he spoke. 

You couldn’t help connecting what he was saying to what you were feeling inside towards him. You wanted him, and you knew it was wrong, but how could you deny it to yourself when it felt so right? 

“Baekhyun...” You asked, hesitantly. “D-do you think it’s okay to do things you know are wrong, as long as no one finds out?”

“I think it depends what you’re talking about.” He answered, now looking you in the eyes again with intensity. “I would never kill anyone, for any reason, even if I knew I could get away with it. But, if I really wanted something, I think I would take it.” 

You were hyperaware of how his eyes were now scanning your face, lingering on your lips. “Take what?”

A hand made contact with your thigh, slowly moving up until he stopped, right below the hem of your shorts. His thumb drew soft circles on the sensitive inner flesh, giving you goosebumps. 

“I know you feel it too, you want this, don’t you?” Baekhyun asked, now moving a stand of hair out of your face. He let his hand rest on the back of your neck, keeping you facing towards him. 

Your heart felt like it was about to short circuit from how fast it was beating. Your palms were sweaty and you could feel yourself shaking slightly. The way his thumb stroked your neck beneath your ear made you shiver, and you knew he saw. All you could do was stare back at him, dumbfounded. Any words you tried to get out stuck in your throat. He was right, you did want it. Now more than ever. 

“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you right now. I dare you.” He said, running his thumb over your bottom lip, eyes fixed on how it trembled beneath his touch. He was slowly moving your face closer his, but you didn’t stop him. 

Your silence told Baekhyun all he needed to know, and his lips quickly found yours. Immediately you let yourself melt into the kiss. You felt your whole body buzzing, finally getting what it had wanted for so long. His lips felt unbelievably soft against yours, moving in a slow rhythm as his other hand came up from your thigh to cup your face as well. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, letting it become messier and more desperate. 

“I like you” you pulled away just enough to whisper “so fucking much.” You felt him grin into the kiss as your lips met again. 

He tasted like strawberries, and you felt high as your lips kept crashing together with more and more need. Your whole body felt like it was set on fire and simultaneously dunked in an ice bath, every nerve vibrating with want.    

When Baekhyun pulled your bottom lip gently between his teeth you let out a soft moan, and he started to lose it. He broke the kiss, standing up and pulling with him, before backing you up against the wall, a hand on either side of your head. 

“Sweetheart, don’t push me” He breathed, and started peppering kisses along the side of your neck, from under your ear down to your collarbone, sucking and biting on the way. 

Trapped between him and the wall, you felt weak and breathless. Your brain was in overdrive and you gasped at his ministrations, hands burying themselves in his soft hair.  His hands had traveled down to your waist, holding you against him tightly.

“Baekhyun” You breathed out, rubbing your thighs together as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Fuck, y/n. Don’t say that.” He forced the words out through gritted teeth.

His body pressed you into the wall, and your arms wrapped around him pulling him into you even tighter. He was completely consuming your senses and your knees felt wobbly from the intensity of it all. He was already smothering your entire front, but you tried to pull him even closer regardless.

You felt something hard press into your hip as his mouth covered yours again, and this time you shamelessly moaned his name into his open mouth. 

Much to your disappointment, Baekhyun immediately detatched himself from you, backing up until his back hit the opposite wall of the office. You could see how turned on he was by the outline of his dick through his pants and the pained look in his face. 

“Fucking christ...” He said, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. You just watched from the other side of the room. He kept his eyes closed and you observed as his jaw clenched and unclenched before you heard him continue. “You have to go. If you don’t I’m gonna fuck you on my desk and I won’t be gentle.” 

Your throat went dry at his crude words, but you couldn’t deny your own arousal. You walked back towards him, reaching out to touch his chest which was now rising and falling rapidly, but he grabbed you before you could make contact. His grip on your wrist was so tight it was almost painful. His knuckles were white, and you could see a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his face. 

His eyes bore into your own with a stare that warned you not to try anything more. 

“I’m sorry y/n but you have to leave. Not tonight. Not like this.” With his free hand he grabbed your belongings off his desk, shoving them into your arms. 

Still speechless, he opened the door and pulled you outside before going back in and closing the door behind him. You stood and stared at his office door for a minute, recollecting yourself and processing what the hell had just happened. 

Eventually your shaky legs began making their way down the hallway, back towards your car. You were pretty sure a janitor saw you as you turned the corner just down the hall from Baekhyun’s office. You kept your head down, trying to hide your face best you could while hurrying past. 

Once you were sitting in your car, you slumped into the seat, mind still in a daze after what happened in Baekhyun’s office. You waited for your breathing and heartrate to slow down before you drove away. 

Baekhyun left shorty after you as well, unable to concentrate on anything but the sound of you moaning his name. He felt terrible for throwing you out of his office but he’d meant what he said. He didn’t want his first time to have you to be in his office, purely fueled by pent up lust. He wanted to give you more than that. 

More than anything, he just couldn’t believe he’d gotten what he’d wanted for the entire summer. It didn’t seem possible, but now it had happened. And you actually kissed him back. It felt too good to be true. He felt himself once again struggling to sleep, but this time because he was too excited. This time, he didn’t have to keep himself up wondering, he knew he had you. He just couldn’t wait to see what would happed now.

You on the other hand couldn’t stop worrying about that exact thing as you stared at the ceiling above your bed. What would happen now? The thoughts weren’t fearful anymore, there was just too many of them to shut your mind down enough to sleep. 

You’d finally allowed yourself to give into him, and there was no more turning back. 

Next Chapter

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic #exo fluff #exo smut

[jimintopia]

prettiest of them all (1)

genre: college!au, s2l!au, fluff, angst?

pairing: jimin x reader

summary: you're nothing special, just an ordinary girl who's just trying to get through college... but an angelic boy with honey colored eyes thinks you're the most beautiful flower he's ever laid his eyes on.

word count: 1.5k

chapter warnings: swearing (mostly jungkook lmao)

a/n: oh gosh i'm so nervous,, this started out as a tiny drabble i wrote out on the back of my bio notebook in january and two weeks ago i sorta revived the idea lmao. i hope you enjoy this little series of mine!

this fic was made possible by @latetaektalk (thank you so much for those helpful tips! i spent a lot of time formatting and reformatting this post and editing the fic, and your advice helped a lot with that!) and @chimchiekookie (thank you for your encouragement and kind words! you gave me the courage to post, tysm kira). also, to @yuvi-with-luv and @meiadore for just being! i love u crackheads; oKAY that was really long so i'll let you get to the fic oops haha

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(1) only time will tell.

College is not easy. But sharing an apartment with Jeon Jungkook is an entirely new level of difficulty.

“Goodness,” you mutter, stepping around the books and pens scattered on the floor of the living room, your roommate’s half-asleep body slumped across the couch. You can’t even get to the kitchen without tripping over something of his. “Couldn’t you have cleaned up before dozing off? What an idiot.”

“I heard that,” he mumbles drowsily, yawning. “The idiot is clearly you, Y/N. Who the fuck signs up for an eight A.M. lecture on Mondays? Something’s obviously wrong with you.”

That earns him an apple to the head, before you remember it’s supposed to be your to-go breakfast and quickly scramble to retrieve it.

“It’s mandatory,” you tell him. “Can’t graduate without taking it, so I might as well suffer. Psychology majors go to hell anyway, so I signed up knowing what I was getting myself into.” You give your best friend a once-over as he stretches, still on the couch. “You have fun sleeping in, Jeon, but by the time I get back I want you showered and ready for a proper brunch. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he rolls his eyes, but you know he enjoys your routine outings as much as you do. Ever since you met in your second year of high school, it became a little tradition of yours to regularly meet up for lunch on the weekends — and that turned into basically each mealtime once you got to college. “Just go, you’re going to be late. Those tiny legs of yours are gonna have a hard time running all the way to 808. We’re not even on campus.”

“Excuse you?! I’m 5’6”!”

“Y/N,” he sighs, shaking his head pitifully. “That’s like, four inches shorter than me. But nice try.”

Both of you exchange an annoyed glare, but deep down, you’re having your fun bantering with him. It’s a trademark of your relationship, one of the many things you appreciate him for. No one you have met so far could match your sharp tongue as well as Jungkook.

“I do not have time to argue with you right now, Kook.” You glance at the clock, quickly slipping your feet into battered sneakers. “There are leftovers in the fridge — by the way, remember to lock the door if you don’t want Taehyung to visit unannounced again — and I left a carton of banana milk on the bottom shelf, right next to the ketchup. Oh! I did your laundry last night; there’s a pile in your room that you just need to fold and put away. Anything else I’m forgetting?”

“You just dumped my clothes in my room? On the floor?”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Wrong answer, Jeon.”

“Oh, fine.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Thank you, Y/N. Now please just go already.���

“Dumbass,” you return, grinning. “I’ll be back soon. I'll bring Taehyung over if I run into him!”

He’s already closed your front door, but you can still hear his shout of protest from the other side, causing you to burst into incessant giggles: “Don’t you fucking dare!”

By some kind of miracle, you actually get to the lecture hall approximately a minute early. You and Jungkook don’t live on campus, but your apartment is pretty close — walking gets you to class in ten minutes, and if you run, you’ll arrive much quicker.

“Yeoreum!” you greet your friend with a whisper as you walk in, tossing your apple core into the small trash can. “You’re actually early for once!”

“Blame Hoseok,” she grumbles as you sit down next to her. “Dumbass woke me up at five in the morning to go run with him, Y/N. Five o’clock. The asshole’s dead to me from now on.”

“That sucks,” you sympathize, but you know she’ll always give in to her twin brother — the two of them are inseparable, as much as she likes to complain about him. “But hey, at least you got your coffee fix!”

Yeoreum lifts the half-empty cup before taking a long sip, a small smile adorning her features. “Also courtesy of Hoseok,” she admits. “He causes a lot of arguments, but at least he knows how to solve them. I like to think I’ve trained him well.”

“I wish I had a sibling,” you sigh wistfully. “A brother, maybe. Or a sister, I wouldn’t really mind. It must be nice always having someone else who understands you.”

“Y/N, you live with Jungkook,” she points out. “He’s basically the brother you’ve wanted your entire life. He has been since we were fifteen.”

“I know, but it’s different. I didn’t grow up with him. Plus, he’s more annoying than a sibling could ever be.”

“And he’s hot as hell.”

“Yeoreum,” you scold quietly, bringing out your laptop for the start of the lecture. “You think everyone you meet is hot. Regardless of whether they’re actually a decent human being or not. That’s probably why you always end up dating assholes who don’t deserve you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves you off, not quite meeting your eyes. “Chill, Y/N, I’m not interested. The boy’s just insanely attractive. Can’t I call someone attractive without wanting to get with them?”

You lean over to say something to her, but the entire class quiets down suddenly, so silent that you could hear even the softest whisper.

Professor Ahn strides in with an authoritative air, several books in her arms, followed by a boy whom you’ve never seen in this class before. A new student, perhaps? Or maybe he just transferred departments. You never know — it’s certainly not too late to switch out.

The professor tells him something quickly and he nods, before jogging up the stairs and hastily sliding into the seat right next to you. In fact, it all happens so quickly that you’re still buffering, trying to process what just happened. Instinctively, you move a little closer to Yeoreum.

“Goddamn,” she breathes, eyes wide in surprise. “Y/N, he’s so fine.”

Okay, so that was a bad choice. But the thing is, she’s not wrong.

The guy doesn’t speak to or look at you once during the entire lecture, totally dedicated to typing up everything Professor Ahn is saying — but you can’t help but check him out from the corner of your eye every few minutes. The blond hair is, surprisingly, a very good look on him, and the way the corner of his mouth is always turned upward makes you incredibly curious. What the hell is there to be happy about such an early class?

Ten minutes before you can finally get out of that stuffy hall, there’s a light tap on your right shoulder, startling you. You turn your head around so fast your vision nearly blurs, taking a second to steady again. “Huh?”

The new guy is tentatively smiling at you, like he’s gauging your response. “Hi,” he says, a little hesitant. “Um — do you have a black pen I can borrow? Mine just gave up on me mid-word and I didn’t bring any extra.” You glance over to his side of the bench: sure enough, the last few letters of the word ‘extension’ are so faded out, you can barely see them.

All of your pens are either blue or red, but Yeoreum quickly passes you one of her black-ink fountain pens under the bench, nodding at you in silent understanding. “Here,” you offer it to him, watching the adorable way his face lights up when you hand it to him.

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver,” he says, quickly scribbling something down. “I can’t fathom using any ink color other than black, it just… doesn’t make sense to me.”

Well, you could type up a whole argument against that, but you hold your tongue for the time being. Instead, you peek over at his notebook curiously, trying to see what he’s so engrossed in writing down. You catch sight of a name printed neatly on the top left corner of the page, and you squint so you can see it better.

Park Jimin. You let it rest in your mind for a moment. It’s a beautiful name, and though you don’t know exactly what it means, you’re sure it would roll right off your tongue if you were to say it aloud.

“I’m Jimin,” he says, right on cue as he returns the pen and you not-so-discreetly pass it to Yeoreum again. “What about you?”

“Y/N.” For some reason, you’re struggling both to find something to say and maintain some kind of calm. You don’t know why he’s making your heart beat faster, only that he is.

“That’s a nice name.” Jimin smiles, and it’s breathtaking. His eyes form little crescents as he beams at you — you! — and for just one second, you can’t think of anything else. A silly crush, you chide yourself, averting your gaze from his face. A few days and it’ll leave on its own.

You want to be right, and you might be wrong, but you have no idea, no way of knowing what the future holds. It’s like they always say — only time will tell.

taglist [please send an ask if you would like to be added!] : @meiadore @chimchiekookie @eyecandy5644 @chubsjmin

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#jimin x reader #jimin college au #jimin strangers to lovers #jimin fluff #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #angst? #park jimin #bts s2l au #jimintopia