#I'm the freak. 🤍

[goldensakuma]

Snow Man - 『夏色花火』 [Rec. Video]

[yyprompts]

Do you have any ideas for accidental wedding? 💔

Had to visit the TV Tropes site for this because I've never seen the accidental wedding trope done before. 😭

I've tried my best to think of some but it's a little tricky. I'll do accidental marriage and wedding.❤️

You and your high school sweetheart break up after high school to move to different states/provinces. Years later, you've moved onto someone else, and are excited to get married. During the ceremony, you come down the aisle expecting to see your partner at the altar, only to find your high school sweetheart there instead. Everyone acts confused with you for stalling, as if the real fiancé never existed, while your new spouse tells the officiator to get on with the wedding.

In the breakroom of the office, you find a diamond ring on the floor, but none of the employees on your floor are married. You decide to go ask around anyway, but before you can, you run into an attractive co-worker standing behind you, and they say yes to your "proposal" before you can even explain yourself.

You and your crush are both law students who head down to the law library to study and research often. One evening, the two of you decide to go so you don't flunk your exam first thing in the morning. Insteading of taking you to the library, your crush takes you straight to the clerk recorder's office, and when you ask them what they're doing, they say they're taking you to apply for a marriage license.

You and your partner are finally engaged and excited to start wedding planning a year in advance. When you start working on obtaining a marriage license, you realize that you're already married to a complete stranger, and you don't know why or when this could've happened. But when you find this person's social media and examine one of their pictures, all the memories come flooding back, and it seems like they haven't forgotten about your vows.

You're a wedding planner currently visiting a new wedding venue to see if it'll be worth suggesting to future clients. The officiant informs you that an actual wedding is taking place in two hours, so you can't hang around for long unless the bride and groom agree to let you stay. While exploring the venue's gardens, the bride/groom of the marriage runs up to you, begging you to marry them on the spot. When you ask why, they say their partner is a dangerous person which they just found out about, and now they need to marry someone else to get out of the marriage.

[joshduhamels]

1st day of 3rd term at college tomorrow and I praaaaaaay that this term will be so much better than the last one cause that was crap! [Minus computers and English] and in 2 weeks it's my birthday!!!!!!!!! 👏 busy month and the next 4 months a head as well. <3

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ match my freak !!

ᝰ.ᐟ the two of you are private not secret, but when the media starts to speculate that the two of you are no longer together, neither of you are too happy. the best way to get everyone to stop with the breakup rumors? posting something a little bit nasty to the feed to satiate everyone's curiosity. (fem!reader)

featuring tobio kageyama, atsumu miya, tetsurou kuroo, wakatoshi ushijima, tooru oikawa, rintarou suna content contains breeding kink (atsumu, wakatoshi), pregnant reader (wakatoshi), famous!reader (changes depending on scenario), creampie (tetsurou), hatefucking (not really, you + kuroo just like to antagonize each other but the attraction is there), scratches on his back (tobio), hickeys (tooru), wet n messy (rintarou), possessive!character x possessive!reader (the two of you are obsessed with each other ok), social media references lol author's notes i'm definitely doing a blue lock version, i'm just seeing if this is a popular premise lol <3 based off this original concept !! these are just silly little drabbles for me to warm up to the idea of writing again haha

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA

your fans are speculating: that you and kageyama have broken up. fans are recording footage from you on your latest tour and claim that you're "clearly disassociating" and "somewhere else mentally" when it comes to singing your iconic love songs. you and kageyama have always kept your relationship private because he's not a very open person to begin with, and you don't want to give the media more material to misconstrue. you know that kageyama hates when some random person will annotate your verses on genius lyrics and try to make the claim that your innocent metaphor is you wanting to jump ship and leave kageyama. and you hate how it's your own fans who are making wild accusations of you no longer being with the man all your love songs are about.

you posted: kageyama, with his back turned to the camera so all that fills your camera is the surprisingly broad expanse of his muscular back and shoulders. he's not even flexing, and it's obvious that he's a world-class athlete. he's facing the closet, trying to find a shirt to put on, and it would be a semi-innocent photo, the pinterest-perfect photo inspo for every private not secret relationship out there, except for the fact that there are clearly faint, red lines — scratches — running down his back. you caption the photo with a "monday morning 🤍" (your insane fans spam the comment section to exclaim how they knew you two were still a thing... and to speculate that this photo is somehow an easter egg for an upcoming song/album. well, they're right: you two will always be a thing, and tobio dicked you down so good last night that you could write him a whole album.)

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"fuck," the word slips through his gritted teeth, and you can tell that your tobio is still upset about how your fans seem divided. half of them claim no one could ever make them hate tobio (you find those fans to be absolutely adorable), and the other half...

well, the other half are making slideshow posts to audios that go "some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world" and the ones that seem to go viral are always the ones that feature you and tobio.

"not hidin' you away." he mutters, never slowing down his thrusts. he admires the expression on your face as he fucks into you, his ego pleased with how receptive you are to his every movement. he has you speared on his cock, your tight little cunt full of him, your eyes getting so adorably teared-up because he's just a little bit too much for you to handle. tobio isn't good with words; he thinks you're the most beautiful girl to exist, but he can't verbalize it. so he just takes in your sweet, fucked-out face, the reaction only he's capable of drawing from you, and it all gets so overwhelming for him.

he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash as he continues to bully his cock into your soaked pussy. "why's it bad if i want to keep you all to myself?" he's practically whining, and you think this would be so cute if only you weren't currently chasing after your release. or rather, tobio's forcing you to cum, whether you want to or not. it's not like you can stop him; tobio devotes himself to always ensuring that you finish before him. he likes the satisfaction of knowing only he can take care of you, and he especially likes the way his cock looks with you creaming all over it.

when he gets like this, all you can do is cling to him, your arms wrapped around his muscular build. when he gets rough with his thrusts, when his body gets just the slightest bit sweaty from the exertion (evidence of just how much work he puts into fucking you), you have to dig your manicured nails (the set he paid for) into the skin of his toned back. otherwise, you'd lose your grip, and your hands would slip off.

tobio relishes the slight stinging pain of your nails scratching down his skin. but the scratches aren't enough. he needs to make you cum. when you get so caught up in your climax, you start clawing at him as you lose control. he loves the scratches you leave on him; it's proof that he's yours just as much as you are his.

౨ৎ ATSUMU MIYA

haters are saying: that you're just using atsumu for content. you're a gold digger. you're not genuine. you're not "wifey material." spectators are claiming that atsumu is playing worse than before because he's too "pussywhipped" for you. well, he likes to cheekily admit to you that he is addicted to your pussy, but they're wrong about everything else. obviously. however, the haters are feeling very vindicated whenever they see atsumu hasn't been posting you as much. (you're traveling for a new vlog series on your page, but no one knows.)

he posted: a mirror selfie. which isn't breaking news. atsumu miya always breaks the internet when he posts a mirror selfie because the only thing worse than a hot guy is a hot guy who knows he's hot. no one is a stranger to the sight of a post-workout, sweaty, shirtless atsumu, who flaunts his tight abs and muscular thighs with a steamy mirror selfie. but this photo? this one is going triple platinum. it's going down in history. this selfie is taken in dim lighting; the curtains in the background are drawn shut, he's got one hand gripping his phone (making the phone look tiny in his big hand), and he's got one arm wrapped around you. it's not an innocent hug, though. he's cupping your ass, and the phone in front of his face does nothing to shield his satisfied smirk. you're clad in nothing but lacy lingerie from a designer who loves to sponsor you, and you're clinging to his side, almost like you can't even stand without his support. it's clear that the two of you definitely were... appreciating the work your favorite designer put in when they created that lacy set.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"what do you think?" you're smiling at him, knowing damn well what he's thinking.

atsumu looks up at you, reflexively licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you wearing a new set of lingerie that you just got delivered. it leaves little room for imagination, and the material looks so delicate, atsumu is already thinking about how he'll have to apologize to the designer for ripping it off of you.

"i think I'm the luckiest man alive right now." atsumu is shameless in the way he's admiring you, the way the setting sun still peeks through the curtains, enveloping your body in a delicious golden glow as you inch closer and closer to him.

in a matter of seconds, he's pulling you on top of him, placing wet, sloppy kisses over any centimeter of your skin he can reach. when you make a move to slip off the panties, he protests.

"leave 'em on f'me, baby. please?"

he fucks you with you still wearing the lingerie set. your breasts are spilling out of the bra, and all he did was move your panties to the side so he could stretch you out with his cock.

"fuckin' idiots, tellin' me you're not good enough to marry. i'll show 'em what a good girl you are, right? gonna put a ring on your finger, and make you my wife." he's fucking his cock into you, making sure that your cute cunt knows who it belongs to. "gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. no one's gonna say shit about our family, huh? 'cause i won't let 'em."

your cunt clenches up so nicely with every comment he makes that atsumu knows he has to make all those pussydrunk promises come true.

౨ৎ TETSUROU KUROO

the tabloids are posting: paparazzi photos of you — the socialite daughter of the man who owns the msby black jackals, and jva's promotion division's golden boy, tetsurou kuroo. it's late at night, and the two of you are clearly leaving a party celebrating the success of another eventful volleyball season. you're wearing the iconic ysl heels with a black mini-dress that honestly should be called a micro-dress. your hair is a mess, you're walking like your knees are struggling not to wobble, and walking three steps behind you despite his longer stride is kuroo; his tie is crooked, his cheeks are flushed, and he has a grin that says something like i just fucked one of the richest bratty heiresses in japan, and i left her wanting more. the amount of blind items that are allegedly alluding to you and kuroo are being spread all over tiktok. one reads, "this sports club heiress was seen exiting a party with this semi-known marketing mastermind who works in the sports industry. apparently, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and no one can recall seeing them together during the party; everyone only caught glimpses of them running away from the festivities together."

you posted: a photo slideshow on instagram of your absolutely iconic outfit from the party, only these photos were clearly taken before the party. your hair is done, your makeup is perfect, and your caption states don't believe everything you read. the last slide is a screenshot of an online headline speculating about your "new man" with a photo of a grinning kuroo from that night. the reason why this makes everyone go insane is because you're no stranger to a scandal — this is, however, the first time you've ever addressed a headline.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"hurry up," you hiss, your eyes darting from left to right as you make sure no one is nowhere near the secluded corridor kuroo somehow managed to find.

"y'know, i thought girls were supposed to like guys who don't blow their loads prematurely." even when he's bullying his cock into your slicked up cunt, savoring the way your sensitive walls are clenching around his dick, tetsurou has a very annoying habit of still sounding entirely in control. for someone who can't keep his hands to himself when it comes to you, he's irritatingly great at playing nonchalant.

but he's just a man, after all. he might tower over you, his large body shielding you from any prying eyes, and he might know your body so well that he can bring you to completion twice (once with his fingers curling against that special spot of yours, and another one so rudely wrung out from you when he slid his cock in your orgasm-recovering, overly sensitive pussy) in just the fifteen minutes he's been toying with you tonight, but you know that he must be feeling something. you saw him shift his pants the moment his eyes met yours from across the room, when his eyes travelled down your body and followed the way your dress emphasized the curvatures of your body.

"if you don't finish right now, i'm not going to let you cum inside." you threaten him, trying to steady your voice as you bite back a moan. it'd be a major issue if the two of you got caught, with the volleyball association's golden boy being buried balls-deep inside a sports team owner's bratty daughter.

with every sharp snap of his hips, kuroo is only forcing more slick to come gushing out of your pussy. he can't even take the time to admire the white ring you left around his cock; he's too focused on chasing after his release because he didn't get to where he's at by not being opportunistic.

"if i cum inside, you have to keep it in your panties the whole night. you wouldn't want that, would you?" he sounds a little breathless now, his pace quickening as his thrusts get sloppier. he's smiling at you, that damn annoying smile that makes you want to roll your eyes or insult him. but your body betrays you. his grin only widens when your pussy tightens up at the idea of having his cum soaking in your panties while you interact with people at this party. a dirty little secret shared only between you two.

he lets out a breathy chuckle at your body's betrayal. "okay, princess. since you want it so badly, i guess i better give it to you."

you could practically cum again the minute you feel the warmth of him finishing inside of you. you're a spoiled brat who gets what she wants, and while you refuse to admit it, you want him. all of him.

and he's going to give it to you.

౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

the media is going crazy over: the fact that ushijima is the type of person who doesn't clarify anything because he just assumes that everyone can read his mind. he's blunt, sure, but he's not really the type who does much explaining. after the first game of the season, an interviewer asks him if he enjoyed spending the off-season with you, his girlfriend and one of the most beloved, fan-favorite WAGs of all time. ushijima stares straight into the camera as he states in his usual deep, flat rumble of a voice, "the off-season was successful, but she isn't my girlfriend anymore. thank you." and then he just walks off, like he didn't just drop the most insane piece of information ever?

he posted: a photo of an ultrasound that was clearly taken out of his wallet since it's thrown on the table in the background. he's holding it in his left hand, and the overhead lighting is reflected from the silver wedding band he's wearing. now that he's off the court, he's able to wear it. in typical ushijima fashion, there is no caption, but a picture is worth a thousand words. you're not his girlfriend. you're his wife, and soon to be mother of his child.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"mmph — 'toshi!" you squeal out, your calves burning from the stretch as your beloved wakatoshi has your legs bent and spread for him. he's just so big that you'd never be able to handle all of him, and yet, here you are, bent into a mating press every night since the two of you have gotten married. you try to beg him to slow down, but words escape you as he buries himself into your pussy, letting out a deep, guttural groan as the warmth of your cunt coats his cock. there's no better feeling than this.

even if you could request for him to slow down, it wouldn't have mattered or made much of a difference. your husband has a one-track mind. when wakatoshi is set on a goal, it's hard to break his focus until he sees it to the end. and right now, wakatoshi's goal is to fuck a baby into you, to see you round with life because of the seeds he planted.

he's hunched over you, abs tightening and flexing with every sharp inhale of breath he takes. he's gonna fuck himself empty, going to keep filling your cunt with his seed 'til he's shooting blanks. his eyes glance at the ring he put on your finger before returning to admire your blissful expression and the way your body seems to have gone boneless from all the fucking he's had you endure.

"just a little bit longer." he manages to say, before forcing his cock in even deeper. "just have to make sure it takes."

౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA

everyone is claiming: long distance relationships never last. when oikawa makes the shocking announcement that he is no longer a japanese citizen, everyone immediately wondered what that meant for the future of your relationship. does that mean it's over? officially? if oikawa is leaving behind his hometown, then by default, is he leaving you behind too?

he posted: a photo slideshow, only most of the images were clearly taken by you. the first one is of him driving; the two of you are in his convertible, and he's wearing a white button down with most of the buttons undone. on the stark white of the shirt are kiss marks; the imprint of your lips lined with cherry-red lipstick are all over the material of his shirt and on his freshly-tanned skin. the other photos are of what you two ate for dinner, the sunset from the beach, and a selfie of you two looking more in love than ever. fans are quick to point out the massive hickey on your neck, and tooru tags you in a reply to the top comment that points it out, and he's saying "you missed a spot babe." you reply back, "i ran out of concealer because you gave me too many to cover"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"i missed you," your boyfriend mumbles into your soft skin. tooru can get so clingy when he goes long periods without seeing you, and you indulge him because he's tooru. he's got his face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his breath is warm against your skin as he speaks.

"everyone is saying i'm abandoning you, but that's not true." he whines.

"i know, baby. i don't care." you laugh softly, absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of his hair. he settles into you, and it's almost sweet, until he starts nipping at your skin.

"tooru, what are you doing?" you can't find it in yourself to chastise him too harshly, but you do have to restrain yourself from pulling back.

"jus' want to show everyone that you're still my girl." he peers up at you, licking his lips. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"

tooru bites and sucks at your skin, sharp canines grazing your soft flesh. he sucks at your most sensitive areas while he works his fingers in and out of your gushing cunt. when he pulls his fingers out and holds them up, so the sunlight can shine and really highlight how much of your juices is coating his digits, he smiles. his girl gets this wet just from him marking you up?

as he sucks on his fingers, relishing in the way you taste, he can't help but be happy to know that no matter how far away the two of you are from each other (for now), you're still his girl.

౨ৎ RINTAROU SUNA

your fans are telling you: suna doesn't care about you. suna doesn't put forth any effort into your relationship. suna literally streams on twitch during the off-season yet he can't seem to ever post you?? suna doesn't deserve you. suna—

suna is a lot of things, but nothing like the deadbeat, ashamed boyfriend allegations. in fact, all your well-meaning fans are so far off on how he treats you that you and him get a good laugh from the outrageous conclusions they've jumped to.

you posted: a photo of rintarou with his head on your lap, and you've got your fingers playing with his hair. it's a sweet photo, really. except for the fact that you decided to pair it with an audio that's a snippet of a song that goes "he's so pretty when he goes down on me" and a caption that reads this song is so relatable 🤍

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

anyone who thinks rintarou is a selfish lover, a lazy lover, someone who merely tolerates you or is ashamed to be with you... they clearly don't know either of you very well.

because even when he's exhausted from practice, rintarou comes home craving you. craving your sweetness, your warmth, your love — and your pussy. he's obsessed. rintarou suna loves to eat you out, and he does it with such passion, such enthusiasm, that it's hard to refuse him, even if he's been going at it for the past hour.

your juices are leaving a stain on the bedsheets, and your slick is coating your inner thighs. it doesn't help that rintarou is messy with his technique. he needs your legs spread for him, granting him easy access for him to just dig in. he's still in his practice jersey, and when he feels your grip loosening from the strands of hair you're tugging at, he'll slow down his pace, calming down to just tiny kitten licks while he peers up at you.

your head is thrown back in pleasure, and your hips have a mind of their own as they still jut forward, as if trying to bring your cunt impossibly closer to him. no need for that, really, seeing as how he craves to bury himself in your warmth, to suck on your cute little clit and have you humming all over his tongue.

"rinnie." you whine out, still subconsciously bucking up your hips. he smiles before resuming his original ministrations, gluttonous and greedy with how sloppy and hungry he is with you. if you're still capable of talking, then you're not too fucked out to not allow him to get his fill.

[norrisainz33]

soft launch || ls18

summary: mercedes princess y/n wolff starts soft launching her new relationship with one of the drivers

pairing: lance stroll x wolff!reader

fc & warning: none

requested: yes!! thank you for the abundance of patience

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynwolff has made a post 📍ITALY

liked by yourbff, carmenmundt, kimi.antonelli, gabrielbortoleto, lando, lilymunihe, alexandrasaintmluex, and 986,245 others

ynwolff: oh no! i'm in italy too.. do you think i'm going to be the next mercedes driver?

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user1: THE CAPTION

kimi.antonelli: surely you cant be taking my seat

ynwolff: no i'm taking georgie's :)

georgerussell63: i'd like to see you try!

ynwolff: fiesty! i'll see you in spa for some sparring 🤑

user2: i see you trying to distract us from the romantic dinner in the second slide

carmenmundt: jealous of whoever is getting to treat you to dinner in italy

ynwolff: it could be you baby girl! who needs men anyway

user2: oh so you're insinuating you have a man i see ynwolff

user3: no man deserves this fr

mercedesamgf1: might want to reconsider the caption y/n - toto

ynwolff: no! not unless you agree to announce my contract TONIGHT

user4: y/n to mercedes! i've seen the script!

lance_stroll has made a post 📍ITALY

liked by astonmartinf1, danielriccardo, ynwolff, chloestroll, fernandoalo_oficial, boss, estebanocon, and 456,456 others

lance_stroll: off the grid 😎

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user2: not to sound crazy but i think that is y/n in the second pic

f1gossip: go on user2...

user2: well if you compare her dinner pic to this one, they look super similar and then those umbrellas in the 3rd are the same as the ones behind her in her insta post

f1gossip: you just might be on to something here... she is also hiding in the likes of this

chloestroll: enjoy it!!!

lance_stroll: don't worry! i am!

user3: lance soft launch before gta6

danielriccardo: off the grid or off the market?

lance_stroll: you tell me mate

danielriccardo: thats a dangerous game 😏

f1gossip: yeah so this clearly means something

user4: CUTIE

astonmartinf1: glad to see you are enjoying your break lance! [liked by lance_stroll]

user5: jealousy is a disease and i have it

mercedesamgf1 has made a post

liked by ynwolff, yourbff, susiewolff, carmenmundt, georgerussell63, and 232,234 others

mercedesamgf1: team wolff in the paddock today 👀

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user12: DADDY wait who said that

ynwolff: hiiiiiii 🤭

mercedesamgf1: hiiiiii bestie

user2: noticing the subtle aston green nails that y/n has….. just noticing

carmenmundt: so glad my favorite girl is here!!!

ynwolff: i missed you gorgeous 🥰

carmenmundt: missed you more sweetheart

georgerussell63: i'm right here guys

ynwolff: please george leave me alone w my girl

user3: the genes go crazy. they're such a gorgeous family

kimi.antonelli: 🤍

ynwolff: 🤍🤍🤍🤍

user4: truly iconic

ynwolff has posted to their story

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user4: don't ask me the color of anything

flavy.barla: obsessed with this. are people catching on yet?

ynwolff: surprisingly only like 1 person is picking up on the subtle soft launch hhaah

falvy.barla: to be fair it is about as subtle as you could get

ynwolff: gotta keep the girlies (and my dad) guessing!

flavy.barla: wait have you not told toto?

ynwolff: god no! he's going to freak so i've been avoiding it. you have no idea how many times he's given me talks about staying away from racing drivers

flavy.barla: oh mon dieu

user2: THATS AN ASTON MARTIN!!!! wWHY are yOU in an aston?!?!??!?! could only mean one thing 🤨

lance_stroll: my god you are gorgeous

ynwolff: awww babbyyyy

lance_stroll: it's true!! you sincerely take my breath away

ynwolff: i love you honey

lance_stroll: i love you more darling

user7: mommy? sorry. mommy?? sorry.

mercedesamgf1: thats not a mercedes y/n/n - toto

ynwolff: mind your business

carmenmundt: oh that bag is everything

ynwolff: gotta love miu miu

user6: i can bark if you need a dog

lance_stroll has posted a story

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user1: the way you're posting a soft launch but of yourself is sending me

chloestroll: good flower choice 💐

lance_stroll: thanks for helping me pick them 😏

chloestroll: anytime 😘

user2: could those be for a miss y/n wolff??

ynwolff: my man my man my man

lance_stroll: thats me!

ynwolff: and i wouldnt want it any other way

f1gossip: so this also has to mean something

estebanocon: things are going well i see

lance_stroll: very well! i think she might be the one

estebanocon: oooooooOOOOO!!!! we must talk about this over dinner sometime my friend

user8: lance in his active era im surprised

ynwolff has posted to their story

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georgerussell63: thanks for humoring me and agreeing to a double date

ynwolff: you didnt give me much choice

georgerussell63: gotta assert my dominance somehow

user1: wish i was casually at dinner w you and carmen

carmenmundt: if a man had to steal my girl im honestly glad it was lance

ynwolff: 🥹🤭 so you approve???

carmenmundt: YES!!! he is clearly head over heels for you. i dont know if i have ever seen a man look at someone with the amount of love he looks at you with

ynwolff: STOP!!!!! have you seen the way george looks at you???

carmenmundt: hehehe

user2: so you're on a double date now????

lance_stroll: what a wonderful evening

ynwolff: my heart is so full 🤍

user4: i wish either one of you had tagged everyone in this photo i wanna know who yall with so bad

f1gossip: ok so clearly thats you, george and carmen... looks a lot like lance too....

flavy.barla: dinner with estaban and me when 🥹

ynwolff: hungary????

flavy.barla: yes please!!!!

user8: tea is hot

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, and 42,213 others

f1gossip: y/n wolff, lance stroll, esteban ocon and flavy barla were spotted out on what could only be described as an intimate double date! after what feels like months of waiting... we may finally have the y/nlance confirmation

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user1: AHHHHHHH

user2: i straight up CALLED IT 😍

user3: oh wait why do i kinda love y/n and lance

user2: like they're actually kind of adorable

user9: a couple that i did not expect at all

user10: man i wanted her with ollie so bad 😭

user9: nooooo bc her and ollie would've been perfect. they like grew up together in karting

user10: and i always got a will they won't they sort of vibe

user9: a missed opportunity

user11: i wonder how toto and susie feel about this..

lance_stroll has posted to his story

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user1: ohhhh thats for sure y/n/n

ynwolff: my cutie patootie i love you

lance_stroll: i love you more than life itself! i can’t wait for this summer vacation

ynwolff: ugh same!! btw dinner with my mum and dad is officially scheduled for this evening

lance_stroll: oh good ok. i am very nervous honestly

ynwolff: don’t be. if torger has an issue he will have to fight me first

lance_stroll: 🙃

ynwolff: stop!!! it’ll be ok!!! at the very least susie will love you and will talk him off the ledge

lance_stroll: fine fine fine! deep breaths 😭

user18: lover boy lance is my favorite

chloestroll: you’re radiating happiness and i love that for you 💚

lance_stroll: thank you chlo 😘🤍

user12: wait not you driving a mercedes. this is a sign i think

schecoperez: who’s the lucky girl?

lance_stroll: y/n wolff 🤭

schecoperez: WHAT

user22: brb adding this to my folder of bf material photos of you

ynwolff has added to their story

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yourbff: dangerously close to posting his face 🤨

ynwolff: don't worry i'm going to post him on our vacation be ready 🤭

yourbff: yessssssss

user2: lance looks real good

carmenmundt: wait why am i jealous of him getting to hold you and not me

ynwolff: come here bb you can pick me up too

carmenmundt: literally running

user21: whyyyy a stroll and not literally anyone else on the grid

lance_stroll: wow my arms look good here

ynwolff: your arms always look good 🤤

user18: so cute!! (i'm laying in the road)

mercedesamgf1: unexpected pairing but i actually kind of love it (don't tell toto)

ynwolff: HEHEH ADMIN thank you xxoxox

user22: oh shes settling down... never thought id see the day

ynwolff has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, yourbff, iamrebeccad, astonmartinf1, susiewolff, lando, estebanocon, georgerussell63, and 845,345 others

ynwolff: summer break never looked so good

[tagged: lance_stroll]

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user2: war is OVER!!!!!

yourbff: you're so beautiful i didnt even notice that there was a man

ynwolff: 🥹 you're so beautiful

user23: wait wait wait… THIS is who she’s been soft launching all this time??

georgerussell63: cute! now stop trying to steal my girlfriend 🫩🥀

ynwolff: never!!!! carmen is mine!!!

carmenmundt: real 🥰

user33: wag era unlocked 🔓

lance_stroll: the best summer break yet! thanks for spending it with me my gorgeous girl 😘

ynwolff: no place id rather be 🤍

kimi.antonelli: this is how i find out??????? i thought we were friends

ynwolff: we ARE FRIENDS

user12: the way she casually dropped this bomb on a random tuesday??? I need a moment

oliverbearman: wahhhhhhhh

ynwolff: i know

user43: me trying to imagine family dinner with toto and lawrence 💀

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated!!! Wow guys i have been gone for a minute. thanks for sticking around with my inconsistent posting 😭🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[gyuswhore]

Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

kim mingyu x reader

word count: 21k

contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]

words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD

synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [read here!!!], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!

I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey 🥹 I love u guys

Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much 🤍

on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333

masterlist

Monday

A normal person would’ve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it. 

But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feel…nothing. 

You could’ve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative. 

Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught. 

Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope you’ll hold back from spitting in your professor’s coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.

You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did.  

Which was little to none. 

That was a lie—on your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe. 

Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room. 

He’s wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. There’s pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters. 

This man that’s pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath. 

“I have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.”

He’s talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any you’ve had to bully yourself through. 

“All I can say is to read through the feedback I’ve given and try a little harder next time.” His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing ‘?’’s and ‘no’’s with zero further explanation. He could say more, but you’ve learned that he simply chooses to not. 

Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, there’s another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. He’s hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand. 

The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. He’s crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were today’s worksheets. 

“...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.”

The poor TA looks like he thought he’d have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before he’s flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. There’s a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks. 

You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables. 

“Pass it down, please… pass it down, please…”

There’s a voice that calls from one of the front seats, “What formula is the sheet talking about?”

Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one you’d have to figure out yourself).

 The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased. 

By the time you’ve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.

Sure enough, there’s a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker. 

Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around. 

There’s one person that’s zipping back and forth, just like there always is. 

You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else. 

There’s a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasn’t going to help.

Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation. 

Tuesday

Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did. 

So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building. 

You’ve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you don’t dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again. 

Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door. 

Nothing. 

You knock again.

Silence. 

You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the room…empty.

The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professor’s desk has been occupied this entire time. 

Except he’s asleep.

No, that’s not the professor. 

Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But there’s none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.

You don’t need to see his face to know it’s the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you aren’t quite sure what to do. 

Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek. 

It’s his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesn’t take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance. 

Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you he’s actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit. 

“Um, excuse me.” He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. “Excuse me.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a snore. 

Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. “Excuse me!”

There’s a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire back’s worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.

“Wh–ow!” The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other. 

“W–what’re you doing here?” he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. There’s a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you can’t decipher.

“Um, it’s office—”

His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something. 

“I have to go,” he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag. 

“Wait, isn’t it still office hours?” you call out as he whizzes past you. 

He’s swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, “Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“But—”

“It’s on the portal.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it—” he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. “I’ll double check. But it’s Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.”

“How—”

A loud slam! of the door. 

“—long…” 

You’re left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room. 

He said he’d be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now. 

Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back. 

The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. It’s another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class. 

She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, “Am I in the right room?”

“Uh, yes! I was just leaving,” you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately. 

You’re halfway out the door when you hear another call of an “Excuse me!”

“Are these your papers?” The professor’s full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table. 

The No is ready on your lips. Until it isn’t. 

Later on, you’d consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How you’d ducked under the table to ensure you’d gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face. 

But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that you’d committed.

And nothing of the hourglass you’d just turned over. 

Wednesday

In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.

I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. I’m aware it’s on the portal but I’d like to reconfirm. 

Regards, YN

Dear YN,

Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.

Kim Mingyu, T.A. 

So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath. 

The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professor’s desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen. 

The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isn’t too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early you’ve swooped in. 

There’s a brief consideration whether this was in the TA’s job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found. 

The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait. 

You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain. 

People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is they’re doing, too busy to notice your blank stares. 

The faces are familiar, none of which are people you’ve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. There’s a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume there’s one thing in common the both of you weren’t doing. 

Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room. 

Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebody’s already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the first’s intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves. 

Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. There’s multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyone’s time management. 

Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didn’t want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls you’d noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table. 

Once again, the TA doesn’t seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation. 

It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. It’s then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you. 

“Are you here to see him?”

You don’t expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. “Pardon?” 

“Are you here to see him? Mingyu?”

“Uh—” Wasn’t everybody? “Yeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.”

The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, “God, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.”

“Yeah he’s a bit…unorthodox.”

“He’s unorthodox too.” She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. “A face like that is rare.”

It wasn’t that she was wrong, it didn’t take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people you’d meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a very…overwrought… suggestion wherever he went. 

It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be. 

But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool you’d sound if you admitted to anything other than such. 

“It is. His willpower’s somehow even rarer,” you add. “Don’t know how he does it.”

“God, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.” Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory. 

Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores. 

There’s a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and it’s like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head. 

You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldn’t hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics. 

Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind. 

Alas, you don’t tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat. 

You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you. 

Suddenly, the girl looks startled as she’s told to wait. 

“She’s been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you don’t mind,” you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him. 

For whatever reason, you had no thought that he might’ve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when he’d spoken to you, perhaps he might’ve thought he dreamt it. Or he’d just forgotten it altogether. 

The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality. 

“Thank you.”

It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student. 

“You can come right after her,” he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading. 

Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables. 

You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin. 

Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason. 

It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising you’d forgotten your bag in your seat. 

Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an “Oh!” as you spring back up immediately. It’s easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat. 

The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like she’s trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat. 

Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once you’ve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do. 

“Right. How can I help you?”

Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him. 

One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page. 

“It’s a 37,” you inform him like he couldn’t see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell. 

“Do you think you deserved a better grade?” he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know. 

It stumps you regardless.

“Well…I know I can do better, at least,” you decide to answer. 

“You’re here, which means you’re at least willing to try. That’s a start,” he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.”

“You marked them?”

He raises his brow, “I hope that wasn’t an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.”

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

“He’s…supposed to.” There’s a forced reservedness in his voice. “I mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But I’m not sure you’d fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.”

Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise you’re at a loss for words. 

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You don’t have an explanation, but it’s somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man that’s meant to help you. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. “We’ll work through it.”

He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand. 

Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.

“Lab reports can be quite tricky if you aren’t sure what you’re doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?”

You mean the one that did nothing to help? “Yes.”

“You got those bits right, format and whatnot. But—”

“It was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,” you say plainly.

Mingyu lips are in a tight line. “Well, yes, but it helps—”

“I know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I don’t need a PDF to tell me that,” you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. “I want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

“He can’t even mark his own papers. I’m quite sure that’s not in your job description. It’s supposed to be him here. Not you.”

It’s silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyu’s fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger. 

“And yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.” He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. “And, better that I’m here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.”

Help, he did. 

Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag. 

You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.

“I almost forgot,” you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him. 

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue. 

“You left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,” you say, before quickly adding, “There was a class right after you left. I took them off the professor’s hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.”

“I’ve been looking all over for these,” he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. “Thank you.”

You flush for some reason, “O–of course, couldn’t just leave them there.”

Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. “Maybe don’t run out of rooms still half asleep.”

By the grace of God, he laughs, “No, you’re right. I should be careful.”

It isn’t till you’re pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. “You can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He’s stood up as well. “I have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.” 

Feet planted on the ground, there’s not much you can do but stare. “Um, sure. I can come in a little early.”

He nods casually, “Thanks again for the papers. And the watch.”

You smile, “No problem.”

Thursday

True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.

Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.

“I don’t know if I can make time for that—no, I understand, sir,”

Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt he’s entirely comfortable with. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“Light on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,” he startles when he notices you. 

Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. “Sorry.”

You know it’s invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. “Important call?”

“Uh, yeah, um, just work stuff,” he states, shaking his head swiftly like he’s trying to shake the thought out of his mind. 

There’s a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more. 

“It was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,” he says. “As always.” 

“Does he do anything other than show up to class?” you ask through a snort. 

“Of course he does. He cusses out every article he doesn’t agree with, is anything but objective and…the occasional relay of blatant misinformation.” 

For the record, you’d never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months he’d been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear. 

The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation. 

Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable. 

That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professor—it was something you couldn’t quite believe he was capable of. 

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, “Anything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, he’s done a lot for the area, can’t discredit him entirely.”

With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh. 

Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, “I’m stuck.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. “I am too. Help.”

Help, he does.

Monday

Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday. 

The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch. 

Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you don’t tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, “Make that two, please.”

It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early. 

Something isn’t right. 

Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job. 

It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction you’ve had with him. 

He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. “‘Morning!” 

“...Morning.”

“You’re early,” he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach. 

“Figured we both needed this,” you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. “It’s a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.”

“O–oh, thank you. And you’re right I did need this.”

Now that you’re closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer. 

To Do:

Call mom

Shoot myself

“You, um—” It’s alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lil’ something on your face.

But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know. 

There’s a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. “For fuck’s sake.”

“It’s okay! I wanna…shoot myself too sometimes.” 

What the fuck?

“I mean!” you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. “It’s okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.”

It’s all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesn’t try to sabotage your education. 

“Good thing it was just you. Yeah.”

Just you.

“Anyways, I think I’m done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?” 

“Have you seen the time?” 

“Not a morning person?”

“Nope!”

“And yet it’s 7:40 on a Monday morning and you’re absurdly early.” His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you. 

“Do you want the coffee or not?” you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself. 

The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair. 

He gives you a crooked grin,“I apologise.”

“To be fair,” he continues. “I’m not much of a morning person either.”

You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, “I’m starting to think no money’s worth this job.”

Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, “You’re right. Not sure why I’m still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.”

“And that isn’t happening because…?”

Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. “I like Dr. Cho.”

“You—”

“I know,” he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. “I know. I sound like a lunatic.”

“I don’t know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.”

“Another would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.” 

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Excuse me for doing my job.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, “No, but really. I can’t imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.”

Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. “When I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.”

“PSYCH101?”

“That’s the one. I’d never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Cho’s studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything he’d published, some of ‘em before any of us were even born.” 

“Oh. So you’re a fan.”

“Everyone tells you to never meet your idols,” he snickers. “He’s done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.”

“I’m sorry it had to be you,” you half joke. 

Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, “That might also be my own fault.” 

“Don’t tell me you offered.”

“I might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was just…plain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true. He was always emailing me extra resources which…I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.” 

He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, “I guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know I’m getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.”

“Did he…have a TA when you were in his class?” 

“Four.”

“Four?!”

“Two at a time. All of ‘em quit at some point. Said they didn’t want the recommendation or the pay.”

“Would he…not give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.”

Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, “He’s a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If you’ve impressed him, you’ve impressed everyone.”

You take a moment to really absorb everything you’ve just learned. “That’s a sucky position you’re in.”

“Tell me about it. But it’s okay. Three—three and a half more months to go? This isn’t even the worst of it, I’m just dreading study week when I’m gonna have to handle all the crying.”

You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept you’d be alright with this class. 

“I know you’re not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.”

“Ever heard of barriers to entry? I’d be ruined if I wanted a career in this.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “All I’m saying is I’ve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months I’ve spent cursing this very lecture hall.”

If you weren’t lying to yourself, you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you can’t help but bite back your own smile. 

“If I can help you then it’s worth losing myself.”

Your heart is in your fucking throat.

“I’m glad when students tell me that,” he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re—” you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. “You’re doing more than just something right. You’re saving us therapy and an extra semester.”

He laughs at that, and you wish he’d let you breathe. 

“Feels like I’m doing something wrong sometimes,” he huffs. “My friend’s a TA too and he’s got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else he’s got going on.” 

He goes on, “Do you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuck’s sake—”

Mingyu is cut off because you’re laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. “W–what?”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just…It sounds like you don’t know what you look like.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” he frowns.

“Nothing!” you exclaim. “But that’s the problem isn’t it.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.

“Can’t possibly be enough to distract people,” he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he can’t get through to. 

“Majority of the class would beg to differ.”

There’s a pause as he registers what you imply. 

After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, “Would… you also—”

There’s a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, he’s already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned. 

“That’s our cue,” you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professor’s desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu who’s suddenly frantic. 

Of course you realise there’s people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.

But you feel the soft of Mingyu’s shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is. 

“Relax,” you whisper. “You’ll be better off without all the panic.”

You don’t see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyu’s face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes. 

Thursday

Midterm season is nothing you’ve ever really had to worry about. 

Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons. 

Except this class isn’t ordinary, and it’s all you’re able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full. 

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re more ready than anyone else in class.”

“How do you know that?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly, “If I don’t know that, then who else does?”

You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time you’ve teared up in front of him, but also because you’re in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return. 

“But I don’t feel like I’m ready,” you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book. 

“You’ll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,” he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up. 

Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, “You only feel that way because I’ve been giving you harder problems to work on. You’re past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, you’re more than prepared.”

“But—”

“Listen,” he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. “It’s only the midterm—”

“Only the—”

“If this goes wrong, I’m just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it won’t go wrong because I said so.”

You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard. 

“I’m assuming…” you start. 

“Hm?” he looks over to you.

“I’m assuming you can’t hint at what’s on the paper.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, “You assume correct. I’m not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.”

“But it’s just the midterm,” you mumble, not even close to remotely audible. 

“What did you say?” Mingyu smirks. 

“Nothing,” you huff.

“You know, I’m a little offended you don’t trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t.”

“Well then, stop being such a worrywart.”

There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind. 

He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. “I made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know you’re gonna be fine.”

In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you don’t see it illuminate anything other than the man before you. 

Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you don’t take anything into account as you note Mingyu’s eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone you’d ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know you’d feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend. 

He’d given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you. 

You sniffle. 

His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal. 

You know he’s real. And you don’t know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.

Monday

You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.

It’s midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow you’d have to perform for today.

It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater. 

Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you. 

“Morning, champ,” he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest. 

Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?” he huffs in one long, rapid question. 

“Um, I mean,” you stare at his shirt that’s backwards. And inside out. “I can’t tell if that’s a choice or a mistake.”

Looking down at his front, he looks back up, “What?”

“Your collar is…not at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirt’s inside out.”

Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. He’s immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like it’d all disappear if he keeps them like that. 

“Wait!” you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. “Do you wanna strip for the CCTVs?”

You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him. 

You’ve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, he’s blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes. 

It’s hard for you to listen to him when you’re more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasn’t a breathing corpse. 

“Mingyu…did you sleep at all?”

“Hm?” His eyes are glazed over and unfocused. 

“Sleep? Rest?”

“Oh,” he frowns. “Not really. I had emails coming in all night.”

“And you were replying?”

“It's the midterm today,” he responds flatly, like it should’ve been enough explanation. 

You almost don’t believe him. “Doesn’t mean you stay up to answer something that should’ve been cleared out beforehand!”

“Couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves,” he dramatises. 

“Yes, you could!” Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what he’s doing to himself. “You barely look human and it’s only the midterm.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I don’t know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.”

Mingyu’s jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. “I can’t get anywhere if I don’t—”

“Mingyu, please. This isn’t good for you.”

He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. “If you think this job isn’t worth it then you just don’t know.”

“Mingyu—”

“No, you don’t, because I’ve seen how good of a job I’ve been doing.”

“You have, you’ve been amazing but—”

Mingyu’s own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!”

And then he’s getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, “Why on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if I‘m doing my job?” 

It might’ve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger. 

Why on earth do you care so much?

Right. Why do you? 

“Are you asking me that?”

“What?”

“Are you asking me why I care?” 

Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before. 

His eyes are bloodshot. 

“I have to get the exam pack.”

Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, you’re left with a feeling that’s right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professor’s desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin. 

There’s a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. It’s like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.

Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.

Everything you’d subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didn’t fit where the laws wouldn’t allow it. 

The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.

Monday

Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch. 

It wasn’t broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didn’t work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again. 

You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.

Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to ‘shut down’ when overwhelmed or stressed. 

It’s happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when you’d neglect food or water on busier days, or when you’d stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday. 

Regardless, you’d found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset. 

Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldn’t work, just like how the latch wouldn’t fit when you’d do the same with your beloved old box. So you’d take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click. 

On the morning of your midterm, when you’d ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones you’ll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself. 

Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, you’d seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to. 

Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you. 

“Pass it on, please…pass it on, please.”

The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong. 

You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most. 

That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again. 

Because it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t hate him. 

As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you don’t. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom. 

Throughout your years of living, you’d learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it. 

Everything. You tried everything. 

But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.

It’s Wednesday. 

You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; it’s safe and you know you’ll like it. 

Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone else’s cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash. 

It’s 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. It’s strange. It feels like you’re missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements. 

The papers are the same. But you read them anyway. 

Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another. 

It’s accursed the way the universe won’t let you live. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect. 

Estimation cannot be perfect. 

[_]

It’s Thursday

Class. Eat. Drink. Work.

Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!

[_]

It’s Friday

Eat. Drink. Work.

Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out

[_]

It’s Saturday

Eat. Drink. Work.

P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)

              ——————

                     P(B)

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

 it gets less complicated

 promise :/ 

[_]

It’s Sunday.

Eat. Drink. Work.

The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

you’ve got this!!! < 3

You give up.

It’s Monday.

8:14 AM. 

You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Cho’s outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least that’s what the twinkle from up here looks like. 

He’s insulting another author, the man’s ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal. 

There’s another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds. 

An hour later, you’re staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language. 

Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note. 

Bright pink sticky note. 

You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that. 

9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag. 

Dr. Cho doesn’t even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.

In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours. 

It’s Tuesday.

You’ve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are. 

They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better. 

It’s silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it. 

Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely. 

The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf. 

Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.

It’s Wednesday.

After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.

It’s Thursday. 

Walking out of class, your mind is empty. You’re still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears. 

This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something you’ve learned to appreciate. 

With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway. 

It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.

You freeze like you’ve been caught. 

The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed “Hey!” knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension. 

You’re off centre. But it’s fine. 

It’s Monday.

“Midterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions I’ll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, either’s fine.”

Dr. Cho isn’t here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour. 

You want to leave, not caring about how strange it’d look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you don’t understand but more familiar than anything else. 

Mingyu’s voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference. 

It’s Tuesday.

Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.

—  92/100

It’s Wednesday. 

4:10 PM. It’s almost too much for you. Almost. 

The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handle’s rebound even more so. The room doesn’t so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things. 

The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up. 

It’s ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months you’ve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, he’s breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view. 

“Did you feel bad?” you spit.

“What?” he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, “Can we talk? Please.”

“Answer the question, Mingyu,” you snap. You don’t care there’s a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. “Did you feel so bad you had to give me something I didn’t earn?”

He’s stood up now, half confused. “Is this about the midterm—”

“I did not get a ninety two, I know I didn’t,” you grit. “Whatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?” you announce, louder than before. 

The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyu’s face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage you’ve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense. 

Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning. 

There’s a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes. 

A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.

“Here. It was all you, if you can’t believe me.”

It’s a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two. 

Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason it’s only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You don’t open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages. 

Because you know you’ve lost.

It’s Thursday. And it’s full of regret. 

There’s a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. It’s in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live. 

There’s a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you aren’t waking up from this one. 

In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true. 

In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad that’s been sleeping with you every night. 

If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, you’ve crossed it with the resentment you’ve now fostered for yourself. 

Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet. 

It’s Friday.

At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial. 

Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. You’re crying over Bayesian inference and it’s somehow more pressing than any other emotion you’ve ever felt. 

Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a fool’s game altogether. 

Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth. 

[Mingyu]: switch to bF10 

[Mingyu]: you’ve been pulling numbers from bF01

It’s immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01. 

With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with. 

Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. It’s stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before. 

Do you not miss me?

Do you not want me around?

Talk to me

I miss you

Please talk to me

“I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true.”

Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine he’s helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing you’d make blunders out of. 

The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knife’s twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything he’s bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place. 

There’s a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. 

It’s Saturday. 

Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same. 

The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too. 

“Latte, please,” you voice. “Iced.”

“We have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?” The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice. 

“Um, no thank you. Just one, please.”

She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldn’t bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand. 

You’re plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name. 

“...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.” 

“He has time to hook up?”

“I remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.” 

“A ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.”

“Whatever, at least we know he’ll entertain you if he likes you enough. I’m just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.”

There’s an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further. 

“Unless he flirts in variables.”

“All is forgiven when you’re born with a face like that.” 

Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual. 

Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls. 

There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily. 

She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition. 

Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesn’t look as menacing as you feel. You don’t wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.

It’s Sunday.

It seems every sip of water you’ve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears you’ve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.

Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. It’s another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle. 

Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesn’t make sense, the commands you’ve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page. 

Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator. 

With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved it wasn’t that particular snag. 

The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear she’s playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work. 

The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. You’re going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and  disappearing before going back to normal. 

Bayesian inference…z scores…null hypothesis…

Wait. 

It’s like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone else’s dark blue on your notes.

no null hypothesis in bayesian approach

Bayesian approaches don’t use null hypotheses. And z scores are in…

“Oh my god, this is a t test,” you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, you’re scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set. 

And there it was…a clear 0.067 under the p value. 

In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely. 

It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you can’t help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library. 

When the initial adrenaline fades and you’ve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students. 

The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click. 

There’s an attached file in the email you draft. 

The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version. 

Regards, YN

It’s almost like you’re trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact. 

You don’t need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own. 

But you don’t email him, backspacing till it’s empty once again. 

Dr. Cho’s email sits in that place instead, a first for you. 

SEND.

You don’t expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you aren’t sure if he’s going to respond at all. You’ve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. You’re forced to consider. 

Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well? 

A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrow’s class when you’d have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week. 

Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox. 

There’s a new email in your sent box after you’re done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar. 

Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. You’re out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this. 

You’re afraid if you put a hand to your stomach it’d be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox. 

Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop. 

The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. There’s no way to tell if you’re shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen. 

RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, it’s almost funny you expected any different from him. 

The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and it’s like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift. 

Clicking on the notification, the email opens. 

Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. I’ll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

There was no way he didn’t have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and you’re sure he knew you’d realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes. 

But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building you’d once considered a second home. 

You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly. 

Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. It’s strange, you’ve never seen it wide open before. 

Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professor’s desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward. 

Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. It’s warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather. 

The desk up front is occupied, as it always is. 

Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend. 

It wasn’t that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, you’d done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.

 Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.

If that was the case, you would’ve been right. There’s a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed. 

Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. There’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, “‘Morning.”

You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. “‘Morning.”

You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both. 

It’s so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do. 

“I, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.” There’s an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now. 

He clears his throat when you don’t respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you. 

“Thanks,” you hoarse. It’s the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course you’d recognise his handwriting. 

“I didn’t have time to print one out right now. I’ll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,” he explains. 

“That’s alright.” You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. “Thanks again. I’ll…get going.” 

Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. You’re already halfway to the door though, and your pride’s already deemed it too late. 

Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop me—

There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice. 

Turning back around is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. 

Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasn’t expecting you to turn back. “Can we talk?” 

And then he’s pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, “Please?”

So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man that’s haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in. 

“I guess I should start with an apology,” he’s fidgeting with his own fingers. “I don’t need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion because…”

He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that when you didn’t deserve it.” 

For about the millionth time, you realise you’re tearing up again. He continues. “And then…right before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didn’t touch those numbers.”

He really didn’t, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.

“I thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldn’t find you, and then you were gone right after. I didn’t text or call because I was sure I’d fucked it all up.” 

“I’m sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. “I really hope you didn’t get into any trouble.” 

“I–no, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I promise I didn’t.” He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping you’d believe him. You nod slowly. 

“It wasn’t even that bad, what you said,” you sniffled. 

He scoffs at that, “I’d beg to differ.”

“I would’ve gotten over it,” you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something you’ve had trouble admitting to yourself. “I should’ve gotten over it. I don’t know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I haven’t been acting like normal ever since, and I’m sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didn’t need to turn into…this!”

“You were hurt because I hurt you.”

“People have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I should’ve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. But…yeah.”

There’s a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. “I just want us to go back to normal. I’ve missed you. Alot.”

“Me too. The go back to normal bit. And the…missed you bit.”

Mingyu’s half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. “I’d thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, that’d be admitting defeat. That you’d think I…couldn’t do it.” 

Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears. 

You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasn’t what he meant.“Since when are we on caring terms?” 

Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."

It’s hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words. 

“Oh well I’d hope you’d care, since you’re my TA and all.”

“Not in a TA way.”

“Tutor way.”

“Um.”

“Friend way? A human way?” 

“No.”

You both know you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you aren’t sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm. 

“You know what?” he rasps. 

“What?”

Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. You’re not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyu’s lap. 

And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own. 

You’re stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom. 

It’s short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. “Does that clear things up?”

There’s nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. “Hm.”

He laughs at your half dazed state. It’s a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. “Maybe one more time. To make sure.”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. There’s more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close. 

The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good you’re already half faint. 

His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you can’t believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasn’t some too vivid fever dream. 

He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours. 

“For the record,” he pants. “I love that you care. And I hope you’ll keep caring. Because I don’t think I can handle it if you walk away after this.”

Mouth back on his own, you decide there’s only one way to convince him you weren’t going anywhere without dragging him with you. 

MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected. 

Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch. 

Like you would run away if he didn’t, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head.  

You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks you’ve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself. 

“I went to a frat party,” Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. “For Halloween.”

The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, “You went to a frat party?”

He snorts, “Dressed up for it too.”

“Oh my god,” you voice in mild horror. “Do I wanna know?” 

“Wonwoo and I matched,” he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. “I was Mario, he was Luigi.”

“How adorable.”

He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they aren’t wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition. 

“Thing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,” he informs. 

“That might’ve been a little better.”

“What’s wrong with Mario?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing. But I do hope you weren’t sporting an Italian accent throughout that.” 

“I was,” he pushes. “A horrible one too.”

You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll. 

“You could’ve gone as Peach. We could’ve matched.” 

“I don’t know if I’d wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.” You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October. 

“Maybe in private,” he says with an insufferable smile on his face. 

Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. “I’m not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.” 

“Who?”

“You and Wonwoo, you’re practically married.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own that’s stuck to him. “Not with whatever he has going on with his girl.”

“Oh right,” you frown in remembrance. “What happened to not understanding how he does it?” 

“Hm?”

“He’s a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didn’t know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.”

His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. “I may owe him an apology.”

“Do you?”

Mingyu frowns, “Actually no I don’t. I don’t think he and his lady are doing too well right now. He’s been insufferable lately.”

“Is it because of the TA-ing?”

“I never know with those two,” he sighs.

There’s silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like he’s trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you. 

“Do you…know about us?” There’s hesitancy in the way you ask. But you can’t help but ask anyway.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. “I know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know I’m in it for the long run.”

“I’m glad you’re smarter than your husband,” you smile.

He only rolls his eyes, “He’s only good at one kind of chemistry.” 

“D’you think they’ll be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he assures. “They’re just going through a…rough patch.”

“Like we did?”

“If you’re asking me, I’d say they’re being a little more stupid about it.”

The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, “They’ll be okay though.”

���I hope so. I’d like to go on double dates with my boyfriend’s husband’s girlfriend.” You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice. 

“This is getting weird,” Mingyu breathes. 

You only hum against his mouth, “Do I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?”

“For fuck’s sake.” 

You’re both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you can’t help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you. 

“I did the sticky note thing again too,” Mingyu says into the silence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again. 

“Said something worse this time,” he continues as you laugh into his chest. “Accept that you’ll die alone or some other shit like that.” 

There’s comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary you’ve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click. 

Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend. 

MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling you’ve grown dangerously accustomed to. 

It isn’t that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply aren’t on you enough. 

The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You weren’t avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both. 

You don’t even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students. 

The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place. 

You’re barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as you’re catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you. 

Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyu’s slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you aren’t escaping the iron grip he’s got on your face. 

Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way. 

“You aren’t actually paying attention in class anyway,” he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. “So why don’t you sit in the back where you don’t distract me.”

“Who says I’m not paying attention.” You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead. 

“You’re paying attention to me.”

“It was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.”

He’s all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, “Was letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed he’d been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man you’ve been accustomed to. The fact that he’s whispering directly into your ears isn’t helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine. 

It lands with precision, right at your core. You’re too hot to tell, but there isn’t a doubt you’ve begun to pool. 

There’s a ding in the background. 

He’s suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether. 

Another ding. 

He’s reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like he’s testing the waters.

Ding. 

Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt. 

His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached wit’s end. 

“Gyu…” you whisper. 

“Ignore it,” he growls. The ringing has stopped. 

He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso. 

His phone begins to ring again. 

Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you weren’t sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now. 

He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily. 

The ringing stops. 

Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you can’t quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage. 

There’s a ding. 

“Mingyu, I really think—”

His phone begins to ring again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest. 

“You should answer.” 

He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Cho’s name on the screen. “It’s eleven O’clock.” 

“It might be important.”

“The last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,” he grunts as he silences his phone. 

You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyu’s hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up. 

Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, “Nooooo, I’m gonna ignore him.”

“He’s not going to leave you alone,” you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear. 

As if to prove your point, Mingyu’s phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect. 

“Go on.”

He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, “Hello?”

His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out what’s being said on the other line. “Where have you been?”

“It’s nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.”

“My flash drive won’t open up on my computer.”

You have to stifle a snort. 

“Is it…plugged in?”

“Of course it is, I’m not an idiot.”

“Is it showing up on your files?”

“Disk…is not…formatted.”

“Erm, it might be corrupted.”

“How did that happen?”

“Did you download something off the internet onto it?”

“Hardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!”

Your fingers are massaging Mingyu’s temples as you feel him tense on top of you. 

“Your attendance sheet is on the teacher’s portal,” Mingyu grits before adding, “sir.”

“...I have other things on there too.”

Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. “This sounds like something tech support could help with.”

“Why can’t you help?” he asks sharply. 

“I…I don’t know how, sir.”

There’s a noise of indignation from the other end, and you can’t help but keep from laughing. 

Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. “I’ll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And I’ll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesday’s classes.”

The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professor’s hung up as soon as the words left Mingyu’s mouth. 

“Wow,” you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyu’s head heavier on your chest. “Not even a thank you.”

“Absent father behaviour,” Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt. 

It’s a bad joke, but you laugh anyway. 

“Will I be an asshole if I say I’m not in the mood anymore?” he murmurs. 

“Absolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.”

“Gross,” he comments, but he’s laughing too. 

“Should we call it a night?” he asks, rearing his head. 

Nodding, you rise with him. By the time you’ve reached the bedroom, you’ve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice. 

“I need a shower.”

Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt. 

“Do you wanna come in too?” 

Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. You’ve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment. 

THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season. 

Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed. 

You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he “doesn’t move to insanity”. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.

Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyu’s chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer. 

It was a Friday night, you’re alone at Mingyu’s place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this week’s tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head. 

Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldn’t ask him for a thing. 

Tired was a look on Mingyu you’d gotten quite used to, so you’ve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight. 

His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth. 

Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. “Did you finish the tutorial paper?”

You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. “Not yet. One last question and I’m done.”

He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan he’s pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“I can figure it out myself, Gyu.”

“You would’ve been done by now if you could,” he answers. It’s annoying that he says it but he’s also right. 

Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didn’t look an inch from passing out. 

He mumbles the question as he reads, “It’s nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and you’re done.”

The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table. 

“Did you get everything else?” he asks in earnest. 

“Hm? I think so.” 

“Good.” And then he’s throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly. 

He’s in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throat—clean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but it’s only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea. 

Besides, it’s a Friday night. No reason to not. 

“Gyu,” you shuffle closer. 

Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, “Yeah?” 

You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. “D’you think…d’you think you can go over post hoc tests again?”

“Post hoc?” He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. It’s an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in. 

Not that you care what he thinks right now, he’d figure out why you were asking anyway. 

“Post hoc, um,” he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory. 

Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it. 

“Analysis tool after you’ve already run the data,” he begins. 

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear. 

“Results have to be…they have to be…” He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach. 

“Hm? Has to be what?”

“Statistically significant,” he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. “To run a post hoc test.”

His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something you’re both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. “Results of what, baby?”

“For the love of—”

“Go on,” you whisper in his ear. “Please.”

One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. “ANOVA.” 

“What’s that again?”

“You little shit.”

You move your mouth forward to kiss him.

“Analysis of variance.” 

You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, that’s all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length. 

“What’s it for though? We already got our results.” Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where he’s most sensitive. 

“Ugh, fuck, for um,” he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks. 

“For…for…” His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach. 

Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. “For? Keep talking, baby.”

“For…To identify groups,” he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. “Identify…the differences, shit, hmph.”

He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, “Identify which groups actually differ, oh my god.”

The bit of him that you can’t fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.

“How many groups?” you ask, before diving back in. 

“Three,” he chokes out. “Three or more, oh I’m gonna cum, fuck don’t stop, holy shit.”

Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure it’s coarse enough to get the reaction you want. 

You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place. 

You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue. 

When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room. 

Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where he’s most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth. 

You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyu’s hoarse protests. He’s almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time you’ve hauled his tired ass into bed, you’re just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you. 

Mingyu’s face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him. 

“I might love you,” he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear. 

You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch. 

I might love you too. 

You hide that as well. For now. 

Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.

“Feel free.”

[Mingyu]: class ended early 

[Mingyu]: be there in 5 

[You]: ???

[You]: wdym ended early

[You]: kim did u end class early to come home

Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. You’d stayed the night at his place, knowing you didn’t have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics. 

He’d left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyu’s already overflowing plate now, you couldn’t deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not. 

A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyu’s pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.

As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost. 

He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. “You’re getting too comfortable with this job.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.”

You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. “How’s the congestion?”

“Bad,” you respond nasally. “I can’t find my Afrin.”

“It’s on the bedside table, baby.”

“No, it’s not.”

Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.

“I’m not awake enough to navigate,” you sniff.

“I’ve got you,” he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly. 

The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray. 

You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. “Told you.”

Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it. 

“Good thing I came back early, hm?” 

“Shut up.”

He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.

There’s nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that. 

“Are you gonna keep doing this till finals?” you ask throatily, shifting under the covers. 

“Teaching during class time is just extended office hours, I’m gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. Or…once more if I feel it.”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?” 

Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets. 

It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, you’ve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.

“Ugh, not this week. Do not have the patience.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland. 

“Thank you, I do think I’ve been very brave.” Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest. 

“What’s that for?!”

You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. “You’ve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. I’m proud of you.”

You’re too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you. 

MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round he’s smart enough to not tell you. 

It’s the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend. 

There’s a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification. 

It’s Wonwoo’s (actual) girlfriend, and she’s sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwoo’s living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions. 

It’s a pillow fort.

Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husband’s living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while he’s actively meant to be available for office hours.

You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isn’t that you’re upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer he’d time them a little better. 

Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself. 

[You]: where are you

[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?

[You]: office hours?

[Mingyu]: mhm

[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house

You imagine him sending Wonwoo’s girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction. 

[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME

You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you won’t be tempted to look. 

Besides, it wasn’t long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling. 

“Whatever for?”

“For lying.” 

You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, “Might wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.”

Mingyu’s head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. “God.”

“Him too.”

In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where you’re sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown. 

“Rumour has it,” he starts. 

You make a face. “Now you’ve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.”

He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good. 

“That a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.”

Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming. 

“Take a hike, Kim.”

“...Sorry.”

NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone. 

Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest it’s been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you. 

The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes. 

“Well?” he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth. 

You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns. 

“For the record I didn’t want some of the questions on there,” he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. “Hard ones weren’t mine. I promise I’m not a sadist.”

Then, in an un-CCTV’d corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds you’ve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss. 

In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge you’d gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you. 

Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. There’s a smile on your face. “It went great.”

A strong tug against your waist and you’re suddenly pressed into Mingyu’s all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach. 

There wasn’t much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors. 

In true Mingyu fashion, he’s begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You haven’t been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time. 

It isn’t remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyu’s hands haven’t been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed. 

He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.

His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. It’s marvellous, even more so as you realise he won’t stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop. 

Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. You’re sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him. 

By the time he’s relented, you’re sure you won’t feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long. 

But as you’re finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasn’t exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man. 

Mingyu was beautiful either way. 

“Are you okay?” he asks you, his fingers tracing your features. 

The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there. 

“More than okay,” you mumble. 

“Good. Thought I lost you there.”

Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. “You’re not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devil’s module.”

“Is that all it takes? Make sure you don’t fail?”

“And give head like that.” It’s a half joke. “But also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.”

He mimics you between a breathy laugh, “Comma TA. Not anymore, I guess.”

“How happy are you?”

“Still have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.”

“The recommendation? You deserve it.”

“That, and not having to be in Dr. Cho’s presence every other day. And you.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Look at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.”

“Not just yet.”

“You’ll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.”

Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and there’s comfort in the air it penetrates.

“I only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.” He’s smiling. 

“Girlfriend duties,” you quote solemnly. 

“I mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didn’t wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.”

You cup his face and pout, “Oh, my damsel in distress.”

“Hm, my knight in shining armour,” he giggles. “Galloped in and saved me from myself.”

“You saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.” 

“I’ll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.” 

You can only grumble in mild annoyance. 

“I’m glad I asked you to come in early that day,” he says.

“I’m glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.” You grin.

Mingyu leans in and kisses you. It’s soft, slow, and drips of the romance he’s trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss. 

It’s almost scary how easily you’ve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly he’s placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. It’s terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting. 

But it’s true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyu’s limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know. 

“I think I might love you too.” 

[dykerightsmp3]

iwtv universe dashboard simulator

girlbossclaudia reblogged

🐉 personafinterest Follow

If you consider yourself a 'shipper' of ANY of the dynamics in Daniel Molloy's new book unfollow me and I'm not kidding. You read a book about toxic and abusive relationships and decided to sexualize them that's on you

🩻 skeletalextractions

'don't sexualize them' is crazy. he describes one of them as doing 24/7 bdsm and describes the other couple's sex scenes in detail, multiple times

🐉 personafinterest Follow

an old man being a weirdo freak doesnt mean you have to be. he has two pulitzers and you have an ao3 account

🦚 strayitalianflamingo

do not understand vampstat's agreeing to participate in this book At All because why would you not want yourself to be cast as louis, the guy who actually got interviewed and got fucked over at every turn. at least armand eats crypto bros. what has lestat done except domestic violence and child neglect

🎆 magicalgirl Follow

sick and tired of seeing this propaganda on my dashboard. first of all it's ARMAND who abuses louis, not lestat, as you can CLEARLY tell if you actually pay any attention to the book's second half. louis isn't a reliable narrator; that's the whole point. armand just deluded him into thinking lestat had done worse than he had

🏆 vampjailbait Follow

lestat literally drops him hundreds of feet from the air causing his own daughter to orchestrate his murder. HOW would a man they had not met yet be to blame for this

🎆 magicalgirl Follow

it's a gothic horror FIRST of all and armand can manipulate memories, canonically, so I'm not sure why we would assume the truth of any of this. it's so clear that lestat is the love of louis's life, the book is a love story, and if you're not willing to see that you don't get it

🤍 johnwilliamwaterwhore

lestat was born with glass bones and paper skin and every morning he breaks his legs and at night he lies awake in agony until his heart attacks put him to sleep

🦚 strayitalianflamingo

does anyone in this thread smoke weed

strayitalianflamingo reblogged

🪻 bluelotushbo

personally I would deeply love to believe this is all real because if so all of these people may be the funniest people to ever exist. one of them has been alive since the 1700s and has decided his calling is to be a pop artist. and his boyfriend is a vegetarian art dealer who was the dom in 24-7 bdsm with a theater cult leader who he ghosted in like 1810. that's so epic

🏆 vampjailbait Follow

stfu you were posting lestat rpf like a week ago

🪻 bluelotushbo

🧛‍♀️ vampstatsmommy

Ordered my TVL merch today and the mug has the actual texture of blood on it. Epic

vampstatsmommy reblogged

🏞 loustatsno1ho Follow

okay we don't actually know much beyond that it was in the summer but happy death month to lestat! lestat de lioncourt has officially been dead for 231 slutty, slutty years 🎉

#wish I believed in this shit yall seem so happy.

🤵🏾‍♀️ girlbossclaudia

honestly if you read that book and you like a single one of them I don't trust u. I'll never forgive them for what they did to claudia

#louis i would forgive you but she's dead and can't join me so :(

strayitalianflamingo reblogged mutualaidmutuals

🏳️‍🌈 l4sbiancannibals Follow

they should make lestat a guest judge on drag race

🐠 lestatsporecleanseroil

it actually pisses me off sooo bad that he’s in a gay PR relationship with some twink who looks like his love interest from his fucking fictional vampire book. Girl didn’t straight people corner the market on this

🦋 falloutbitch Follow

is this about tvl or dan molloy

🐠 lestatsporecleanseroil

this is how im finding out vampire interviewed author has a fucking 20yearold twink boyfriend who looks like the sexy evil guy from his book I can't do this anymore

lestathater420 reblogged

🩻 skeletalextractions

honestly wish the book weren't fake bc if it weren't this would be sooo camp. imagine you break up this 500 year old guy's marriage 2 separate times and he's like I simply must have you

#feel like armand would do this as a character

lestatsporecleanseroil reblogged 69ingvampires

🛜 69ingvampires

say what u will about dan malloy but inventing vampirism to justify an age gap relationship is maybe the funniest thing anyone will ever do

♻️ malloy_bot Follow

Malloy.

🛜 69ingvampires

why the fuck did you take the time to make this

♻️ malloy_bot Follow

got bored

#just like louis in that damn investment property...

🌇 literarysalontakes

Much as the PR stunt has given it a bad rap, the book’s exploration of both the experience of Creole men in New Orleans at the turn of the century, as well as the experience of the colonial subject in the Renaissance era, is genuinely very interesting. Making up a fictional abusive relationship between the two characters exemplifying these themes and using the ways in which each of them have been devalued to draw into that is sort of insane but it really works! The publicity shtick is nuts but the book itself is actually fantastic and soo worth your time

#also claudia makes me deeply insane. essay about her forthcoming

jobsearchreputationera reblogged

🛍️ swiftietwiftie Follow

if you're somehow supporting the vampire lestat in this beef — which by the way, he's again picking with a woman — you need to be fully aware that the man you're supporting is not just parodying A Generic Vampire: he's a walking caricature of bisexual and french men, and by insisting he's a real vampire, he's not only playing into harmful and xenophobic stereotypes around Europeans, but sexualizing a genuinely dangerous kink (bloodplay). not to mention the guy he's cosplaying helped murder his own daughter and never cared about the racism his partner experienced, which has really upsetting implications. and don't forget that he shares the name of a guy who was found to have bones at his house :/

🕋 maraschinocherry

baby why didn't we begin with the bones💀

🏞 loustatsno1ho Follow

the bones were from the house of a guy nicknamed Lysander whose actual name was Simon something. this has been debunked a hundred times why do we need to keep having this discourse

🪔 girliepopped Follow

favorite things about this post: - the implication that a rockstar who cosplays a fucking vampire is being problematic by reproducing french stereotypes - the implication that the vampire is an anti european stereotype???? - the random misinformation - the fact that this person clearly didnt even read the book they're complaining about - 'sexualizing a genuinely dangerous kink (bloodplay)'

lestathater420 reblogged

🏄🏻‍♀️ jobsearchreputationera

Taylor would never have been in this beef back when she was dating Joe :/

🕋 maraschinocherry

speaking of tvl yall ever checked out his tiktok videos whys the motherfucker live in a shack. also i know it's for the bit but the 'sad white suburban mom quotes about motherhood' is a lot to take in

🏵 vamplestatpilled

who cares did you see his von dutch lipsync

🐛 wormdyke

white billionaire with a private jet appropriating the struggles of gnc artists... didnt know harry styles and taylor swift had a secret baby

jobsearchreputationera reblogged

🦚 strayitalianflamingo

Who will the Vampire Lestat pick beef with next: poll

UPDATE: Before this poll even closed we got the answer! It was Charli xcx.

[brimacchiato]

Astrology Observations Pt. 2

These are my personal observations and are just for fun 🩰🤍

Zodiac Sign and Placement Observations

Aquarius women tend to develop a lot faster during their younger years, which is why most popular or well known girls in school are 9/10 Aquarius sun.

Aquarius women tend to fall off and go into hiding after high school. I don't know; maybe because they know people don't give a fuck and life isn't high school? They tend to still hang around people from high school too from what I noticed.

Sagittarius men are always involved in the "money making” business. They will gladly make money with you and do business with you. They have no issue with telling you have to make money.

Sagittarius, Aries, Capricorn men tend to have nice bodies. Very Masculine.

If your Lilith is in the 1st house, you've probably had a nice body your whole life.However, instead of being liked you were shamed and objectified.

Sagittarius women are always SOO freaking pretty!

Leo men and Leo women are literally the complete opposite; it's like Leo men are so nonchalant; but they stand on business.

Aries Moon people get a lot of hate. However, most people that are considered “icons” are Aries Moon (ie. Janet Jackson, Pamela Anderson)

Aries Moon will most likely go through a major scandal once in their life. (ie. Janet Jackson super bowl, Pamela Anderson sex tape) I'm scared for myself.

Pisces men give off major creep vibes to me. They're also really huge babies.

I've noticed Capricorn women tend to start life late. Fun, love, Money, etc. around 30’s ie: Chyna the wrestler. However, this depends because most Capricorn women I know are older and have really nasty attitudes and/or have low self-esteem because they never healed. They have this gloomy energy/aura about them personally.

Capricorn’s woman beauty is SOOO underrated. We truly get blessed. Unless, you were awful to people, then you actually get uglier. Karma goes both ways since our sun is ruled by Saturn. I've seen it.

Neptune in the 5th house means you were an ugly duckling who nobody wanted to be around, then you turn into this swan of being that people gravitate towards :3

Disclaimer: I don't hate Taurus women, but these are first hand (face-to-face) experiences I've had with them. Muah 😘😘

Personally, Taurus women and men are ATTENTION WHORES! They don’t give a damn, they will go back to whoever is giving them attention if their main source isn’t doing the job. They'll be in a 20 year relationship and you wouldn’t even know..because they're always talking to other women/men.

Some Taurus women will put their lives in jeopardy just to talk about it later for shock value/attention. Everything they do Is for ATTENTION. I know this from FIRST HAND experience and it's very off-putting. ie: my first year of college; I knew this girl who didn't use condoms with the random guys she slept with JUST so she could talk about it later. She ending up getting hella STD's and we haven't spoke since 2020.

Taurus women are also MAJOR 'weirdo' gatekeepers. They do this forrrr…attention 😭 they wanna be the one and only. They try to achieve this mysterious “IT” girl vibe, but it falls flat because of their attention seeking behavior. Maybe they just do it with just me idk.

With the Taurus men I've interacted with, they're annoying, and are “restraining order” level of attention seeking. Like, get tf away from me! Their mommy issues get triggered very easily which causes them to snap and disrespect you.

I have an 8th house placement and I've noticed that people are intrigue by you at first and befriend you then secretly compete with you later on.

8th house placements attract married men because of how taboo and mysterious we are. Forbidden fruit vibes.

12th house placements attract people who are at their lowest and need help; which has to be super draining :(

If you have 7th house Pisces and you're NOT magnetic; then you need to stop putting in so much effort with people who don't reciprocate. Match their energy. If they don't call, don't reach out. Block them if you need. STOP REACHING OUT FIRST!

If done right people are always thinking about you and wondering what you're up too whether in a good way or bad way. I have this placement and people are always in my business smh.

Pisces Venus people fantasize about you. They wanna know what it would be like to be with you. They feel like you could help them escape their reality. Also, you're really pretty.

12th house placements show your hidden enemies.

Leo in the 12th - People who like attention secretly despise you. Usually masculine/authority figures. this placement is not for the weak lol. Cancer in the 12th - Your Mom/Family Taurus in the 12th - Moochers. People steal from you. People who just take take take. Libra in the 12th - Your friends. so on and so on...

Astrology Aspect Observations

I've noticed that with Mars - Neptune aspects people start to appreciate you later in life. You're a bad/taboo person now, but later people are gonna wanna be you when the hate train dies.

ie: Britney Spears has this aspect and she was such a bad influence in the early 2000's, yet people are trying to mimic/copy her till this day.

Jodi Ann Arias has this aspect. She's a monster for how she killed her then boyfriend; yet people are idealizing how pretty she is/was.

Last thing, people with Mars square Neptune others tend to be transfixed on your actions. We're in our own world 90% of the time and so we do whatever in the moment and people find it amusing?We have no idea people are looking 9/10.

Moon Square Neptune - Can make you sensitive to your environment. You hate chaotic and noisy environments. Escapism through music, cinema, or fantasy literature.

Moon Square Mercury - Have trouble communicating emotions. Can make you sensitive to the emotional tone people talk to you in. Might retreat from mainstream media due to anxiety and confusion.

Moon Trine Mars - These people have the perfect blend of Feminine qualities and Masculine qualities. Attracted to aesthetics around the world from different cultures and traditions. Loves sensual experiences like trying new food, clothes, and romance.

Lilith conjunction Neptune - Gives someone a witchy, otherworldly and/or ethereal allure 🤍 People idealize them or demonize them; causing struggles between self and others projection of them. These people have good psychic abilities. Can turn pain into something beautiful. These folks can have foggy boundaries which can lead to entanglements in relationships. Not intentionally manipulative, however, can have natural influence over others emotions.

That's all I have for now! This was fun to write took me a couple hours but it was worth it!

[witherby]

I need anything and everything of jason being Mouses favourite. (The Littlest Wayne AU)

They get a snack/ meal - Jay Jay has to take a bite first before they eat

They have a new toy- Jay Jay has to see and play

I’ll take anything you can think of.

I am obsessed. The AU is amazing

-🤍💜

Say less! I love Jason Todd and so does Flittermouse! By the way the word count is 3100+ lol oops

The Littlest Wayne: Fist Bumps

Masterlist is Here!

"This is stupid."

"Shut up, you're just mad you won't get picked."

Tim kicks Damian in the shin, who retaliates by kicking him back much, much harder in the ankle. Tim cries out, about to start a fight, but one stern look from Alfred settles them both down. They continue to sit beside each other without fuss, and soon everyone is all neatly lined in a row while Hal uses his ring to keep you safely suspended in a bubble, playing with a little rattle.

"Alright," Dick says excitedly, "we're going over the rules one more time! No jingling any shiny objects for Flitty to chase after, no getting out of line to get closer to them, and Bruce, no bare skin! We're gonna have Hal set them down and see who they come to first."

"This isn't gonna go the way you think it's gonna go," Bruce says, endlessly amused. "Please, none of you get your feelings hurt."

"Nobody's gonna start cryin', relax," Jason says, lounging on the floor between Damian and Hal. "Kay, we ready?"

A chorus of agreement follows, and Hal gently lowers you to the floor. They all immediately call your name, or variations of your nickname, waving their hands and patting their laps to get you to come to them. Your eyes widen, startled by the sudden rush of noise, and turn your head to assess everyone across the room.

You lock on to the man you want, the binky in your mouth bopping up and down excitedly, and you start speedily crawling to Jason.

"I KNOW that's fuckin' right!" He yells, scooping you into his arms and gently tossing you in the air a couple inches, then peppering your face with kisses. "I'm the favorite you little freaks. Kiss my ass."

"Okay, whatever, we knew that already," Dick says, "now it's time to see who the second favorite is. Put them down and go away so we can play again."

"Be nice to your brother," Bruce says. Dick flicks Bruce in the ear and he scowls. "Ow. Be nice to me."

"Fine. Gotta know who my competition is for the number one spot in Mousey's heart, even if I'm winning by a landslide." Jason carries you across the room and sets you back down. "You stay for a sec, kay? Pound it." He picks up your chubby arm and makes you give him a fist bump, then walks away from you.

Before they can even start a second round of the game, you're shuffling after him again. Christ, it's adorable.

"It's because they can still see you, Todd," Damian says, scooping you up to put back in starting position. "Duck behind the couch."

Jason rolls his eyes but complies, bending down until he's out of sight. When the rest of the family calls for you again, you shuffle forward like you're going to crawl to Hal, but you veer past him and around to the back of the couch to get to Jason again.

"Oh my god, they've developed object permanence already," Tim says. Jason's triumphant laughter fills the room as he lifts you up to give you more kisses. His endless delight and your happy squealing softens the blow to everyone else's egos.

"This game sucks anyway," Dick mumbles, crossing his arms in defeat. "What idiot even came up with it in the first place..."

--

"You ask."

"Uh, no? You ask? I don't care."

"Yeah but he tolerates your questions. I don't wanna get my jaw blown off."

"Then don't ask, dumbass. It's so easy."

Jason clears his throat, causing the two goons to stiffen up and turn to face him. One of them looks upset that he was caught unaware, and the other looks one wrong move away from pissing himself.

"Hi, boss," they both greet.

"Whatcha talkin' about?" Jason asks, taking a half-step closer. "Cause last I checked, I sent you both over here to do quality control on our newest drug shipment. And I'm not seeing a lot of that gettin' done."

He turns to the more frightened man. If he didn't have his helmet on, he would've sneered at him.

"So what's the hold up? Need me to sew some mouths shut? Hmm? Want me t'cut out your fuckin' tongue? That'll motivate you real fast, I bet."

"We'll get right on it, boss," the other, clearly smarter, henchman states. "We were just. Uh. Wondering why there's... why there's a baby strapped to your chest."

Jason looks down at you. You stare right back at him, making a soft cooing noise around your Red Hood-themed binky, and reach up for his mask. He gently takes your hand instead, feeling your tiny fingers curl around the leather of his gloved pointer. He's smiling sweetly at you, despite no one being able to see it.

"This is M," he says by way of an answer. "Won't be an everyday occurrence — couldn't find another babysitter so I assured the dad I'd keep 'em safe for the night."

He doesn't mention that your dad is also his dad, and that when Jason tried to leave to do his vigilante work, you screamed the house down and would only calm down in his arms, therefore he had no choice. So here you are, strapped to his chest in a onesie padded with kevlar and vital-tracking tech, while your favorite brother carries your diapers and formula around in the same duffel he stashes his guns.

And because you're his favorite, too, he secretly hopes you throw more fits so he gets to hoard you all to himself again. Taking a few minutes to tickle your tummy or gently rock you in his arms stops him from losing his patience and blowing out the brains of several subordinates tonight — which his men clearly catch onto, because they all start telling him how nice it is to see such a cute and perfect and pleasant, life-saving baby hanging around.

Fuck yeah it's nice. S'cause you're the coolest baby ever. Jason gently makes you fist bump him.

--

"AHHH!"

Jason is out of his chair and bolting across the Manor before his brain fully registers your screaming through the baby monitor. There's surprised exclamations and footfalls not far from him as his thunderous steps stir up a commotion, but he doesn't care about that.

There are very few times in his life when he's moved this fast. Large, expansive rooms fly by him in a blur of color. He takes the stairs six at a time. If a door he needs to get through is closed, he's breaking it down with a well-placed hit with his shoulder and moving on.

When he gets to your room, he stops to yank the door open because he doesn't know if you're near it, and darts inside with a sharp shout of your name.

"What's wrong!?" He pants, zeroing in on you immediately. You've rushed into your wardrobe and climbed inside it, red-faced and crying as a crow flaps haphazardly around the bedroom. The shattered glass on the floor gives him the missing context, and he snatches the bird out of the air with more force than necessary while the adrenaline spike is still scrambling his nervous system.

Bruce is the second person to rush into your room just moments after, crouching by your hiding spot with furrowed brows and a soft, slightly winded voice.

"Are you hurt?" He asks. You whimper but shake your head, fat tears rolling down your little cheeks, and lift your hands. Bruce picks you up without hesitation and stands up.

"Jaylad?" He says, still in that gentle tone. "You alright?"

Jason doesn't answer. He's not alright, not really. The rage he'd built up thinking someone was in here hurting you is still burning through his veins, and with no outlet for it, he's struggling a bit.

Bruce doesn't take offense to his lack of response. He just offers you a small, reassuring smile and bounces you a bit in his arms.

"Let's go find Grandpa and snuggle up with some hot chocolate," he murmurs. "Jay-Jay will hang back and make sure your bedroom is safe for you."

"No!" You sob, leaning around your father's broad shoulders to reach for Jason. "Want Jay-Jay!"

"You can spend time with him in a little while, Mouse," Bruce says, starting to carry you out of the room. Your protests get louder and more frantic, pushing against him to no avail.

"Want Jay!" You repeat, sobbing openly. "Jay-Jay! Want, p'ease!! Jay-Jay!"

"Bruce," Jason utters through grit teeth. His father stops, only a few steps down the hallway, and turns back to him. "It's fine. I'll take 'em, you clean up the mess."

"...are you sure?" Bruce frowns, visibly cautious. He looks down at the bird still flapping helplessly as Jason holds it by the neck, firmer than strictly necessary.

Jason takes a step towards the broken window and tosses the crow out. After a second of frantic flapping, it straightens itself out and flies away with panicked sqawking.

He turns to you and holds out his arms. They're only trembling a little bit, but the edges of his vision are still tinged with green. Bruce hesitates to pass you over.

"I've got it," Jason murmurs, "I'm calm enough. Gimme my fuckin' sibling before you piss me off worse, B."

Bruce nods slowly. He brings you back into the room and hands you off to Jason. Your arms circle his neck and cling on tight, and you bury your face in his chest as you cry. It breaks his heart that you had such a bad scare. He can see the half-completed Lego build you were playing with on the floor in front of the window and hopes Bruce can get all the glass shards out between the bricks and carpet.

Jason carries you out of your bedroom and down the corridor to his. He leaves his door cracked open and flicks on lights as he goes, then brings you to the en-suite bathroom.

"Okay, Mousey," he mumbles, trying to set you on the sink's vanity. You clutch him tighter and whimper, and it drives a spear right through his chest. "Kid, I'm not goin' nowhere. Jay-Jay's right here, I just wanna make sure there's no glass on you."

A little more prodding and the compromise of you holding one of his hands gets you to relent. You sit miserably on the counter as your sobs slowly die down, and Jason tediously checks your hair and clothes for any bits of glass that may have landed on you when the crow crashed into the window. The slow, repetitive motions help quiet the last of his anger until he's just tired and concerned for you. He finds a couple tiny pieces, but your skin is unblemished and when he asks if you're hurt, you shake your head, which then calms him entirely.

"Alright, great job," he murmurs. "Come here, we'll go bother Alfie t'give us an icecream sammy before dinner and then cuddle in the main living room. Good plan?"

You sniffle, wiping the last of your tears away. Your cheeks are flushed and puffy. "Yeah, good pwan..."

Jason kisses the top of your head and offers you his fist. You gently bump yours against his, then lift your arms again to be picked back up. He obliges, refusing to put you back down for the rest of the day. When it's time for bed, you don't wanna go back into your room, so he spends the evening reading his current novel with a dim book light while you snooze away on his chest.

--

He's livid. Jason's got a hole in his leg and he can't run away from the rival gang leader pointing a gun at his head, and he's fucking livid.

"My first death was way cooler," he mutters. "Got blown up and everything."

"What the fuck are you saying?" The other man scowls. "I never could understand you through that thick-ass helmet."

"I'm saying, if you're gonna go down as the guy that killed the Red Hood, at least make the execution something fuckin' noteworthy," Jason rants, the pain making him bitchier than usual. He waves his hands for emphasis, pointing at the gunman much like a mother scolding her child. "Ohh I shot him and watched his brain splatter everywhere! So has every single marksman ever. I'm worth more than a bullet in an alleyway. The fuck do I look like, Bruce Wayne's folks?"

"Whoa, man," the shooter says, lifting his free hand to scratch the back of his head. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad I'm gonna kill you. You're that mad I'm not gonna kill you...in a cooler way?"

"Excellent listening ears, bucko! Gold star!" Jason coos, clapping. "Immolation, decapitation, tossin' me in an acid pit — fuck me, I'll take a stab wound over a bullet! D'you know how skilled you gotta be to get close enough to stab Red Hood to death!? If not for me, do somethin' that'll raise your own paltry street cred, shit. You're so fucking boring."

The man doesn't get another chance to weigh his options. The darkness of the alleyway pounces on him, sucking him into the void while he shrieks like an animal. Jason slumps against the wall and watches the shapeless darkness warp and twist, the gun abandoned on the ground in the gunman's initial panic. He feels his heart rate slow when you step out after a minute, wearing a thick jacket over your pajamas and a domino mask over your eyes as you hurry towards him. A flash of irritation makes him scowl as he realizes one of the others woke you up for this, when you aren't even a vigilante to begin with. The culprit's gonna get their ass beat as soon as he recovers enough to track them down.

"Okay," you stammer, kneeling next to him on the ground with a first aid kit. "Okay okay okay...Alf — umm, Agent A? I'm here, what do I do?"

"Remain calm, Flittermouse. All will be well," Alfred soothes you over the comms. Jason feels the adrenaline steadily exiting his body now that he's registered that he's safe. Now, it's a fight to stay conscious so you don't freak out even more than you're currently doing. He's so proud of you for coming out here despite the blatant fear.

Your hands shake as you pop the kit open and pull out the field tourniquet. Alfred instructs you on how to set it up, and Jason gently adjusts it when you wrap it a little too close to the bullet wound in his thigh. He grits his teeth as you tighten it, refusing to make a peep, and gives you a quick thumbs up when you tie it off.

"Okay, I stopped the bleeding. Do I bring him home, now?" You ask.

"As long as he has no other injuries, the medical bay is ready for you to transport him back to the cave."

"M'good, Mousey," Jason says, lifting his fist. "Sorry you had to come rescue your cool big bro. S'not your job."

"I was the one who could get here the fastest," you reply. After a moment's hesitation, you bump his fist with your own. "You're gonna be okay."

"M'gonna be okay," he echoes, knowing you need that confirmation. "Saved my life, kid. I'll do all your chores for the next week."

That gets a wet laugh out of you. You hug Jason tight and the shadows of the alley pool underneath your bodies. Jason closes his eyes and hugs you back, a steady anchor in the free-falling sensation entering your darkness gives him.

"My heroics are only worth a week of chores?"

"S'better than the rest get," he says. "They get one chore. Not even a whole day, just one chore."

You bury your face in his shoulder as the void swallows you and him up.

"You're my favorite, too, Jay-Jay," you mumble. Jason smiles as he loses the battle for consciousness.

--

"Good afternoon; welcome to Truce Juice. Would you like a moment with a menu or are you ready to order?"

Jason leans his hip against the counter and takes a menu off the small, laminated stack you've got sitting there, glancing over the options. Behind the helmet, he smiles as he remembers all the late nights you pulled him and your other brothers into the kitchen to taste test these drinks and snacks, desperate to make things that would appeal to many people. He remembers how proud you were to graduate from your culinary courses and the victory cry you let out when you found insurance willing to cover the building.

You smile warmly at him, waiting patiently for him to choose something off the menu for the first time in your brand new business.

"Black coffee," he says, voice warped by the modulator in the helmet, "two sugars."

"What size?" You ask, tapping it into the screen in front of you.

"Large. And a turkey panini, with avocado and pesto."

"Toasted?"

"What other fuckin' way would anybody get a panini?" He muses aloud. To strangers, he would sound angry, but you can tell he's genuinely asking. You just shrug and keep the soft smile on your face.

"You'd be surprised. Your total's on the screen; will that be cash or card?"

Jason reaches a gloved hand down. It glides past the pistol strapped to his thigh, eliciting nervous gasps from bystanders in the cafe, and into the pocket underneath, drawing out a plain, tri-fold wallet. He pulls out two hundred-dollar bills and huffs at you to keep the change, then saunters over to the pick-up counter to wait.

He crosses his arms and watches you scuttle around behind the counter, genuinely happy to make food and drinks for anybody that comes in. So far, you're uninjured and you've been able to stop any rising conflicts in seconds, which he's endlessly thankful for.

When his order is ready, you hand it to him with another bright smile.

"Alright, mister Hood, here you go. Have a great day!"

Jason nods, about to turn away, when he sees you hold your fist out in his periphery.

He grins, heart fit to burst, and bumps it back.

[2hightocare]

COFFEE!

“I think I'm past obsessed at this point, there has to be another word in the dictionary that tops obsessed.”

Synopsis: in which a hopeless romantic falls in love with the man of her dreams…

Pairings: boyfriend!jeongguk x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship.. non idol au

Warnings: literally the most sappy thing I could have possibly written, was listening to ‘coffee’ by miguel while writing, they’re such a gentle love, reader is a book worm, Jungkook likes drawing (doodling) plus points when his drawings are about oc, mentions of their first time having sex, usage of book quotes (read nltm, had to use the mia and sebastian line for my own sanity) <3333333

authors note: this is so simple but my book worm hopeless romantic needed this.. wrote this while high so nothing new 🤍

They say falling in love is the most beautiful feeling in the world.

You couldn’t explain the immediate sensation, the feeling that spreads throughout your chest as if you were a black-and-white picture that suddenly starts to fill with vibrant colors anytime his eyes lock with yours.

It was astonishing how the universe works—the idea that you are destined for someone ever since you are born, and that all the hardships along the way shape you into the person you need to be to meet them.

Your heartbeat thumped loudly in your ears as you watched him laugh from across the room, an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans covering his lean, muscular figure—one you’d memorized to the tiniest detail. You knew every freckle and scar. His head was thrown back, arms crossed, as he paid attention to whatever the guy in front of him was saying.

You scrunched your nose, using your index finger to push your glasses up as you studied your boyfriend from afar. You weren’t sure whether to call it pathetic or endearing, the way you noticed every little crease on his forehead and the way he toyed with his bottom lip absentmindedly. You even took note of his long eyelashes, and nearly died of jealousy every time you counted them when he slept beside you.

It was gut-wrenching to imagine anyone else feeling about him the way you did. The thought alone made you want to puke in the nearest trash can.

You were lovesick for this man, and you could already feel the heat rising to your cheeks whenever you looked at him or heard his laugh. Not only did you want to scream and freak out over every little thing he did, but he also had you daydreaming constantly. You found yourself thinking of silly song lyrics that resonated with how you felt about him. Staring at his side profile, you finally understood the meaning behind Suki Waterhouse’s lyrics: “Oh, my good looking boy,” echoed in your mind.

Before you could form another lyric or recall a favorite book quote to describe your feelings, his eyes found yours. A small smile tugged at his lips as his gaze scanned your expressions, reading you as if you were an open book. You smiled, tilting your head to the side, trying to hide the makeshift fireworks going off in your tummy.

His gaze softened, and it made your breath waver. You had never understood the meaning of “his gaze softened” in books, but now, you understood every syllable of those words after experiencing it firsthand.

You honestly couldn’t think of a single thing you didn’t love about him. You loved everything about him, even the parts he claimed were too “broken” or “damaged” to be loved.

A few seconds passed before he finally said his goodbyes and began making his way back to you. Your eyes followed every step, catching the grin he wore.

“I don’t know, I pretty much think you’re obsessed with me,” your boyfriend teased, his straight teeth on full display as he stopped in front of you, looking down at you on the couch.

“In your dreams.” You laughed, craning your neck to look up at him.

Instead of getting mad, he let out a low chuckle, leaning down with both arms on either side of the couch, caging you in.

“Every night, baby.” He whispered softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips before moving to your cheek, delivering another soft kiss. You sighed in contentment as his lips ghosted over your skin, the pet name making your head feel dizzy.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before standing up straight again, looking down at you. Your eyelids felt heavy as you looked up at him through your lashes. He was already smiling, and you didn’t even need to ask “what?”—you already knew. Anyone in their right mind could tell how obsessed you were with him, and it was no surprise to him either.

As you both walked out of the bookstore, carrying a bag full of psychological and romance books (and, of course, the box of transparent sticky notes Jungkook got for you to annotate your books without writing on the actual pages), it was clear this was one of his favorite things to do. In his free time, when he wasn’t working or with you, he loved opening one of your books and reading your thoughts scribbled in the margins. Half of his camera roll was pictures of you, but the other half was just pictures of your annotations, scribbles, and drawings.

It was as if he was inside your mind, reading every thought, and he loved it.

He could still recall the first book he opened that sent his heart racing, like a teenage boy with a crush.

“I couldn’t see him, but his laugh was unmistakable. I could close my eyes and be in so many places with that laugh. That laugh was the cohesive thread, the little recurring melody that showed up in so many scenes of my life, like Mia and Sebastian’s theme in La La Land. Always there, playing in the background.”

Those words were highlighted in the prettiest shade of pink, with two small hearts drawn beside them. But it was your handwriting at the bottom that got him: “The feeling I’ve been trying to put into words about how I feel every time I look at him has just been done for me, oh my.” He remembered feeling his heart stop for a second. And when it started again, it was for you—his heart was for you and only you.

That wasn’t all. It had become one of your shared love languages. Jungkook started buying books he thought you’d like. He even asked your little sister what your favorite highlighters were so he could buy them for both of you.

Your heart did somersaults when you opened a book on his bedside table and saw a drawing—a pair of eyes in black ink, long lashes making them look bigger and more innocent. Your breath hitched as you noticed the small freckle just below the eyebrow, realizing it was you.

It didn’t help the overwhelming sensation of adoration when you saw his handwriting in the margins.

“You remembered?” she said softly.

“I remember every second of us.”

The text was underlined, and in small letters, he had written, “Gosh, she made me fall so hard that I’m reading sappy words and thinking ‘us’ out loud. #sendhelp,” with a frowning emoji next to the hashtag. Before you knew it, you were on page one, reading every single line and note he had left.

Also, the multiple drawings on the pages where there was extra space had your heart thumping hard in your chest. There were so many drawings— each one tied to you or him. It was impossible to describe every feeling surging through your chest, every emotion racing in your bloodstream, as your fingertips traced the drawing of you.

This time, it was an image of you on your back, lying on a bed. Only part of your side profile was visible, with your hair spilling across the bed, covering most of your back. At first, you didn't want to assume it was you he'd drawn-being self-centered wasn't your style. But it was impossible to deny it when he'd sketched every freckle, even the small half-moon tattoo on your shoulder blade, matching the real one inked on your skin.

You smiled at the memory but snapped back to the present as your boyfriend instinctively switched you to the other side of the sidewalk when you two turned toward Target. You held tight to his index finger as he squeezed between people, leading you behind him with a soft "excuse me" to anyone in the way.

Automatically, you found yourself smiling as you picked up your pace to match his longer strides. He pulled you in closer, his arm snaking around your waist, his hand resting over your belly—a little lower than usual, sending butterflies flitting wildly in your stomach. You suppressed a shiver as he gently guided you to the side, allowing an older couple to pass by.

"Us when we're eighty, baby," Jungkook leaned down and whispered into your ear, making you playfully roll your eyes at him. His smile only widened at your reaction.

"Won't be us if you keep watching Young Sheldon without me," you pouted, giving him a playful glare, which only made him smile more.

"Why are you smiling?" you asked, maybe even whining a little as you walked into the store and heard the employee greet you both.

"Because you're so beautiful, and my brain goes in circles when I stare at you," he shrugged casually, giving your waist a small squeeze before untangling his arm to grab a cart.

You tried so hard not to melt, holding onto his bicep as he leaned forward on the cart, making him closer to your height.

"Don't know it you're down, but l've been wanting to learn how to crochet," you said as you glanced around the aisles. Your boyfriend immediately started nodding excitedly.

"Baby, oh my god. I'm so down. We need to make those big-ass blankets," he rambled, looking at your face for a reaction, like a puppy with its ears perked up and tail wagging.

"I think that's knitting, baby," you corrected him, smiling as his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

"Wait, are those two not the same thing?" His dimple deepened as he bit his lower lip, stopping in front of the craft aisle.

"I actually have no clue," you admitted with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "But I know you can crochet a blanket because you once told me about those pattern blocks you saw on your explore page.”

Jungkook's gaze softened as he made eye contact with you, his pupils dilated with so much adoration that it made your heart swell.

"And I remember because I searched them on TikTok to see what you were talking about. I saw people connecting them into blankets. Also, I remember you pretending to sleep so you didn't have to scratch my back anymore-before my one minute was up. You swear you're slick, but I know when you're really asleep," he said with a grin, teasingly biting your cheek as you tried not to smile.

"How do you know I'm not sleeping?" you teased, and he chuckled, ghosting his lips over yours.

"Because every time you fall asleep, you make this little sound, and then slowly, you start snoring," he laughed, watching your cheeks turn a shade of red before burying his laughing face in the crook of your neck.

To be loved is to be seen.

That phrase had never felt more accurate. No one else had ever seen you the way Jungkook did. He knew you so well, down to the tiniest details that sometimes even surprised you.

Your eyes practically turned into hearts as Jungkook kissed your neck innocently before turning his attention to the yarns.

This was the kind of love you had always dreamed of

-better than the movies or books. Nothing could top the overwhelming feelings of gratitude, love, and appreciation that coursed through your body whenever you looked at him. Your brain practically played the instrumental of "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey whenever you spent time with him.

It was as if even a natural disaster couldn't faze you

-so long as you could experience it with him.

The connection between you two was beyond what you ever imagined existed in real life. It felt like something out of a fairy tale. From the moment you locked eyes with him across the room, you both knew there was no turning back.

After checking out and getting to Jungkook's car, he opened the door for you, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt before putting the bags in the back.

Once he climbed into the driver's seat, his hand instinctively found its place on your thigh after starting the car. His thumb rubbed your bare skin, sending sparks flying through your body. It was such a natural gesture for him, but the butterflies never ceased. You bit your lip, trying not to whine when his hand moved closer to your inner thigh.

As he softly sang along to "Creep" by Radiohead, it was just another thing you'd become morally obsessed with-his voice. You had always known he could sing, but everything changed the night you were first intimate.

It was as if your entire perspective on love and sex shifted. Simply calling it "sex" seemed absurd now, because it was so much more. Everything felt heightened, more intense, making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

"F-fuck, baby..." he whimpered into your ear, his hips moving slowly into yours, leaving your mouth hanging open.

His little groans and moans made you dizzy, like notes of a lullaby. The feeling of skin against skin was the most addicting sensation, made even more special by the way he always checked in on you.

"Shhh, I'm sorry. Am I being too rough, baby?" His voice was strained as his hips halted, his breath heavy as he moved your hair to kiss your neck.

He resumed slowly, making your legs shake and grip the sheets, and you couldn't help but moan, asking for more. His chuckle against your skin was the same one you’d hear when he rested his head on your stomach, expecting you to scratch his back or read to him.

"You're sweaty," you pouted at him, both of you basking in the afterglow.

"I know. Do you still want me?" He smiled, mimicking your expression before pulling the covers over both your naked bodies and pulling you in as close as possible.

"Yes, I'll forever want you," you replied, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, savoring the warmth he radiated.

As sleepiness began to overtake you, you felt his fingertips tracing letters and shapes on your hip.

Just before drifting off, he began singing again. It was like entering another universe where only you and he existed

"I want you to notice," he sang softly, "when I'm not around."

"So fucking special... I wish I was special." He pressed a kiss to your temple, the sound of his voice and your matching heartbeats lulling you both to sleep.

You snapped back to reality when the car stopped at a red light.

"Is it bad that I always hope to get red lights so I can kiss you?" he asked, flashing a grin that had you laughing.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his as his eyes fluttered shut, his finger lifting your chin gently.

"Not bad, but a little weird. You want to spend so much time with me," you teased, pulling back to your seat. "Some might even think you're pretty obsessed."

"I'm past obsessed at this point. There's got to be another word that tops it," he admitted, stealing another kiss just before the light turned green.

As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but wish there was another word, stronger than "love," to describe how you felt about him.

[eicsferrari]

Heavenly Kind of State of Mind • cl16 smau

summary: when charles loses the championship, he feels lost. but then he meets a pianist who makes him think she's heaven sent

face claim: laufey

requested: yes♥︎

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

જ ♡ જ

2 months later

જ ♡ જ

જ ♡ જ

charlesleclerc posted a story

caption fell in love with the piano all over again

↪user you are aliveee

↪user strong praise

જ ♡ જ

yourusername posted a story

caption i love my job

જ ♡ જ

yourusername student by day, pianist by night

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friend1 legend

friend2 you're like a superhero

yourusername yess except my superpower is functioning with 4 hours of sleep

friend3 prettiest girl ever

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f1 charles leclerc is ready for a new season!

♥︎liked by yourusername & others

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user i missed him so much omg😭

user he looks happy i was worried after last year

user this is our year, forza ferrari!

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leclercupdates charles in the interview after the race:

"you have won the first five races of the season! congratulations"

"thank you. i want to dedicate these wins to my girlfriend. after a rough season last year, she's the reason that i keep believing. i swear she was heaven sent. she's all light and she took me out of a dark place. i love you angel"

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user the way he talks about her... When will it be me??

user HE DROPPED THAT MY GIRLFRIEND LIKE IT WAS NOTHING MEANWHILE WE ARE ALL HAVING A MELTDOWN

user charles hard launching in an interview was not on my bingo list

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yourusername you bring me peace that i'd never find

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friend1 omg who???

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charlesleclerc when i'm with you, it's like nothing else. like i could run and tell the devil to go fuck himself

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user he is a poet

lewishamilton i need you both to adopt me

user akdkfkd lewis wtf

carlossainz55 couples who play piano together stay together

જ ♡ જ

leclercupdates charles and her girlfriend together after qualy

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user too blurry😭😭 we need a clearer picture of her

user he seems really in love. he deserves all the happiness in the world

જ ♡ જ

charlesleclerc posted a story

caption you call me like a chorus only angels could sing yourusername

↪user she's so beautiful

↪user couple goals

↪yourusername you are making me blush🥺🥺

જ ♡ જ

charlesleclerc "a heavenly kind of state of mind" out now ft my angelic girlfriend

and lewis sings or whatever

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user "oh lord i ain't afraid to die if it means i'm by your side. it would be such a heavenly way to say goodbye" ROMANCE AIN'T DEAD

user the fact that she's credited bc they played the piano together😭🤍

yourusername i love you🥺❤️

charlesleclerc i love you too my angel

yourusername also don't you dare die or i will kill you. watching you get in that car freaks me out enough at it is

charlesleclerc yes chief🫡

જ ♡ જ

f1 he's done it! charles leclerc is the new world champion

♥︎liked by carlossainz55 & others

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yourusername YES YES YES

yourusername THAT'S MY MAN

yourusername FUCKING WORLD CHAMPION

yourusername I'M SO PROUD OH MY GOD

charlesleclerc i couldn't have done it without you

yourusername no babe this was all you !!! you are amazing🤍

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charlesleclerc darling you were heaven sent to save me from above

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yourusername i love you🫶🏼

user @ god pls answer my calls

lewishamilton aren't you happy you came that day?

charlesleclerc best decision of my life

જ ♡ જ

Taglist: @justaf1girl @anamiad00msday @formoola1fan @2bormaybenot @searecs @multifantasic70 @primadonaprincess55 @hoeforlifee @literallysza @nichmeddar @in-the-marina-trench @ahgase99 @harrysdimple05 @tvdtw4ever @danielricroll @fionacmxo @Kazansky-slxt @SecretFoxmaker @freyathehuntress @andreasaintmleux @andreasaintmleux76 @Ajordan2020 @sbtlasworld @sarx164 @chezmardybum @rain-against-the-glass

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤEASTER SPECIAL: PAW PRINTS * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where Matt and Y/N spend the early hours of Easter creating baby powder bunny prints on the living room floor and biting into carrots, just to make sure their daughter has the best Easter morning.

FEATURING　dad!Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: Happy easter to everyone who commemorates it 🤍✨️

1:07 AM - Sunday, April 20th

The house was finally quiet.

Well... mostly.

Y/N slowly tiptoed down the stairs, one hand on the wall to steady herself in the dim, cozy glow of the hallway nightlight. Her sock-covered feet barely made a sound on the steps, the wood creaking only the tiniest bit under her weight.

She took it slow - real slow - because she’d just spent the last thirty minutes doing the most exhausting, soul-sucking, patience-testing thing known to parents, putting a toddler to sleep.

And not just any toddler. Their toddler. Three years old. Full of personality. With curls that never stay tamed and a voice that could rival a megaphone at bedtime.

But she was finally asleep.

After four stories, two songs, a stuffed bunny hunt, and one mini meltdown about how she "NEEDED her sparkly Easter socks or the bunny would skip their house".

Y/N was drained.

But as she reached the last step, her tired eyes blinked, adjusting to the soft light of the living room, and what she saw instantly erased all of her exhaustion.

There, standing on the hardwood floor, was Matt.

Messy brown curls flopping down into his eyes. His favorite red sweater - that she was 99% sure had been balled up on the laundry chair an hour ago - now pulled over his tall frame, wrinkled and crooked at the collar like he’d thrown it on in the dark. His black sweatpants hung low on his hips, one leg slightly tucked into his sock without him even noticing.

He looked so sleepy.

Like, painfully sleepy. Eyes heavy. Shoulders low. But he was moving around with purpose, his hands busy with a bottle of their daughter’s baby powder, a half-eaten carrot, and the softest little bunny ear headband looped around his wrist.

Y/N squinted.

"Matt?" She whispered, barely above a breath.

He jumped a little and spun around with big blue eyes like he’d been caught breaking into his own house.

"Shit- you scared me, angel." He whispered back, his voice all raspy and deep and tired.

"What... what are you doing?" She asked, tiptoeing closer, trying not to laugh.

Matt looked down at his hands, then at the floor in front of him. There was a perfect trail of tiny powdery bunny prints starting at the kitchen door, leading all the way toward the couch. Some were tilted like the bunny had hopped, some overlapped like it got excited. He had obviously made them with his own feet and hands, dipped in powder.

"I’m... making evidence." He shrugged.

Y/N tilted her head.

"Evidence?"

"That the bunny was here." Matt said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, holding up the carrot like a prop. "She’s gonna freak out when she sees it. You think it looks real?"

Y/N blinked at the mess on the floor. The powdery mess. His hands were literally coated in white. So were his feet. His sweater had smudges, too. His hair was sticking up in four directions. And yet, she felt her heart melt right into the floor.

"You stayed up for this?"

Matt nodded slowly.

"Yeah. I mean... she’s been talking about it all week. I told her the Easter Bunny leaves footprints. You should’ve seen her face when I said that. I couldn’t-" He yawned mid-sentence. "I couldn’t let her wake up and not find anything."

Y/N smiled, her eyes softening. She walked over and gently grabbed the carrot from his hand, inspecting the bite marks in it.

"Did you really nibble it?"

Matt looked mildly offended.

"Duh. You think the bunny would leave a full carrot behind?"

She snorted, covering her mouth to avoid waking their daughter.

"You’re such a dork."

"You married this dork." He mumbled sleepily, stepping in baby powder again and crouching down to press another bunny paw onto the floor.

"I did." She whispered, crouching beside him. "And I’d do it again. Especially if I knew you’d look this cute at 1am while preparing our house for Easter morning."

He glanced at her sideways.

"You think this is cute?"

Y/N reached up and gently brushed some powder off his cheek, smiling with the little scrunch his nose instantly created.

"Absolutely. You look like the world's most exhausted Easter Bunny."

Matt leaned in closer, nose almost brushing hers.

"Might be. Definitely the hottest one, though."

She giggled, giving him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose before sitting back on her heels.

"Okay, lemmd help. Gimme the powder."

It didn't take any second thought from Matt. The next minute, they were both sitting cross-legged on the floor, whispering quietly about their day, dipping their hands and feet into the baby powder and making more tracks. Matt would press one paw down, and Y/N would do the next.

At one point, Matt reached over and smeared powder across her forearm, and she gasped like she'd always do when he threw snowballs at her on winter mornings.

"You wanna start a war?" She whispered playfully.

"Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time." He grinned.

They were careful. Matching the spacing, tilting the paws slightly, even leaving a few little white "fur" smudges on the baseboards like the bunny had rubbed against them.

They placed her Easter basket beside the couch, overflowing with chocolate, candy, plushies, and one little sparkly egg with a note tucked inside that read:

"Thanks for the socks. I love them.

Hoppy Easter!

- Mr. Bunny"

By the time they were done, Matt had powder on his neck, Y/N’s black leggings were speckled white, and the kitchen smelled like baby lotion. They stood in the middle of their living room at 1:38am, looking down at the chaos they created like two kids who just got away with something.

"She’s gonna scream when she sees this." Y/N whispered.

Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"She definitely will."

Y/N looked up at him, and he looked down at her with the most soft eyes, a sleepy smile taking over him pink lips.

Matt reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"You did good today." He murmured.

"So did you."

He pressed a kiss to her lips, heavy eyelashes brushing against her cheekbone.

"Let’s go to bed before she wakes up at 6am and demands chocolate for breakfast."

Y/N groaned, already dreading it.

"Please, no. I need, like, five more hours of sleep, or I’ll turn into a ficking villain bunny."

"Too late." Matt grinned, guiding her toward the stairs. "You already married me. That makes you the main character and the villain."

"Shut up, Easter Bunny."

They walked up the stairs holding hands, powdery footprints behind them, and carrot crumbs on the floor.

7:12 AM - Easter Morning

"Mommy!"

"Daddy!!"

"MOMMY DADDY COME LOOK!!"

Y/N jolted awake first, instinctively reaching across the bed to Matt, who was already halfway sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Was that her?" He mumbled, voice thick and scratchy with sleep, fingernails scratching his beard covered jaw.

Y/N blinked.

"She’s... shouting?"

Before either of them could fully process it, their daughter burst through the bedroom door with a slam, her tiny pink pajama set covered in glittery bunnies and one sock halfway off her foot. Her curls were a disaster. Her face was glowing.

"HE CAME!" She screamed, full volume, absolutely breathless.

Matt sat up straighter.

"Who came?!"

"THE BUNNY!" She shrieked, bouncing in place like her little body couldn’t physically contain the excitement. "THE EASTER BUNNY! HE WAS HERE! HE WAS HERE, DADDY!"

Y/N pressed a hand to her chest, trying not to laugh, feeling her heart melt with the genuine smile on her daughter's face.

"What?? Baby, what do you mean?"

"There’s FOOTPRINTS!!" She gasped, eyes so wide they barely blinked. "And a carrot with BITES! And a note! And he said thank you for my socks! HE KNEW I gave him the socks! He actually KNEW!"

Matt dramatically gasped.

"No way."

"Yes way! Come see! Come see right now! I didn’t even open my basket yet ‘cause I needed you to see the proof first!" She yelled like it was an emergency.

Matt threw the blanket off with fake panic.

"Okay, okay, okay! We’re coming!"

Y/N was already getting out of bed, tying her soft beige robe around her waist, trying not to laugh as their daughter literally sprinted out of the room again. Her little feet slapped the floor with speed that didn’t match her size.

"IT’S REAL! I TOLD YOU IT’S REAL! I’M GONNA DIE!!"

Matt looked at Y/N, eyes half-closed, hair a mess.

"She said she’s gonna die."

Y/N bit her lip, grinning.

"You made her whole universe."

Matt walked to her with gentle steps and kissed her cheek, his beard tickling her soft skin.

"We made it."

They followed the giggles and gasps downstairs.

And there she was. Standing in the middle of the living room. Hands in the air. Eyes sparkling. One finger pointing at the powdery footprints and the messy trail leading to the half-nibbled carrot beside the basket.

"LOOK!" She shouted, turning to face them with her arms out like she had just discovered treasure. "LOOK WHAT HE DID! HE HOPPED RIGHT THROUGH OUR HOUSE! AND THEN HE ATE THE CARROT! DADDY, HE ATE IT!!"

Matt gasped again and dropped to his knees beside the scene, his legs cracking with the movement.

"This is some serious bunny activity."

"I know!!" She yelled, practically vibrating. "He even LET IT ON THE WALLS! That means he was REAL FLUFFY!"

Y/N knelt beside them both, brushing hair out of her daughter’s face and smiling so big her cheeks hurt.

"And he left you something too, huh?"

Her daughter’s eyes widened all over again, and she spun toward the basket.

"MY BASKET!!"

She tore into it like her life depended on it, candy flying, plushies squeaked, glitter eggs cracked open. But the loudest gasp came when she saw the note inside the shiny sparkly egg.

She clutched it like it was a signed autograph.

"He WROTE TO ME! With his paw-hands! Bunnies don’t even write, but he DID!"

Matt dramatically leaned in.

"He must’ve learned just for you."

Her eyes filled with wonder.

And then, with her curls bouncing and her whole body shaking with joy, she launched herself at Matt, wrapping her arms around his neck so tight he almost tipped backward.

"Thank you, daddy." She whispered.

Matt blinked.

"What?"

She looked up at him with a shy, soft smile.

"I know you helped him create this big, big plan. You're his bestest friend, right?"

Y/N's heart squeezed.

Matt pulled her in close and kissed the top of her head.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Bunnies never tell."

Y/N scooted close and wrapped her arms around both of them.

"We need to call uncle Nick and uncle Chris!"

© vanteguccir

[jude5bellingham]

crawling back to you ☆ j.bellingham5

pairing: Jude Bellingham x singer!reader

summary: you love your boyfriend sooooo much and he loves you just as much.

notes: i have been looping hozier’s cover of do i wanna know and i had to make this thank you + this is my first work back and im doing this on my phone... hope you guys enjoy :)

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, and 1M others

yourusername get this bloke away from me!

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camavinga calling him bloke is crazy 🤣

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user2 oh to be able to look at yn through those goggles

user3 oh to be yn to look at jude in those goggles

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, camavinga, and 992,878 others

yourusername ever thought of calling when you've had a few?

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judebellingham i clearly did

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user4 NEW SONG?

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user7 i sense song of the year incoming

user8 i pray 🤲🏻🧎

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, and 988,597 others

yourusername makes me think of you somehow

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judebellingham not fair

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user9 ... oh to be loved the way yn loves jude

judebellingham never settle for less

user9 noted 🫡🫡

user10 it's the way that she loves taking pics of jude

user11 it's so 🥹🥹 urghh it's the best when they capture her watching his games and she tries to get the camera man to get jude instead 🥹🥹

user12 that's her man and she loves him so bad

user13 i want what they have frr

user14 i think we all do

judebellingham

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judebellingham i miss you when i wake up before you

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yourusername OHHHH MY SHAYLA

yourusername i'm going to sob and weep and it will all be your fault

judebellingham would a kiss fix it?

yourusername i think i'm going to faint

judebellingham in a good or bad way???

judebellingham HELLO??? IN A GOOD OR BAD WAY???

user15 this is the most gut wrenching display of affection i have ever seen... i miss you when i wake up before you... oh i'm sickkkk

yourusername YOU AND ME BOTHHHHH OHHHHHMYGOOODDDDDDDDDDD

user16 jude bellingham is so in love it's sickly

user17 are u being snarky?

user16 NO!! in a wow i wish that was me way

user18 real asf

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, and 2M others

yourusername do i wanna know out now :) (madrid heard it first)

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judebellingham the shock i felt btw

yourusername gotta keep you on your toes

judebellingham OH YOU MUST HATE ME

camavinga 🤍🤍🤍

yourusername 🤍🤍

vinijr 🤍🤍

yourusername 🫶🏻🫶🏻

jobebellingham great song (jude is crying)

yourusername comfort him ☹️

judebellingham oh so you hate hate me

yourusername ????

judebellingham come do it yourself

jobebellingham can you not flirt in my replies pls

yourusername hey man, i'm innocent...

jobebellingham jude...

judebellingham SO YOU BOTH HATE ME

user19 SONG OF THE FUCKING YEAR

user20 CRAWLING BACK TO YOUUUU.....

user21 DO YOU EVER THINK OF CALLING WHEN YOUVE HAD A FEWWWWWWWW

user22 CAUSE I ALWAYS DOOOOOOO

user23 omg the captions of her jude posts have been clues 🧎🧎🧎

user24 she's literally the best

PODCAST INTERVIEW SNIPPET || ▶︎

host: i just want to start by congratulating you on your new song, i've had it on repeat since it came out!

yn: thank you so much, i'm so glad!

host: everyone who knows you knows about your boyfriend, jude, would you say this song is about him? or is this an older song dug out of the archives?

yn: oh this song is very much about jude (chuckles). honestly, i don't think any of my songs aren't about jude.

host: i'm sure he's giddy knowing that, a lot of people were wondering if it was an accurate portrayal of your relationship? if that sense of insecurity that is displayed in the song is real?

yn: hmm... (laughs) i don't know why i'm even thinking about it! jude gives me no reason to be insecure but at the same time i still feel it a little bit.

host: and that is?

yn: the insecurity, i'm always stuck between wanting everyone to see him the way i see him versus me being the only one to see him the way i do. i'm a little selfish, i'm not sure if it comes across properly in my songs, but sometimes i hope that i take up space in his mind the way he does in mine.

host: does it help? writing the insecurity into the song?

yn: honestly, i'm not sure. i actually didn't run this song by his ears before performing it, fingers crossed, he doesn't think i'm crazy and obsessed with him.

host: i think the whole world knows how obsessed you are with him, every post you have dropped since being together has included him.

yn: busted! i just can't help but take so many pictures of him... it's like i have to prove that this is all real.

host: it's honestly quite sweet, you're clearly always thinking about him and he posts about you just as much. i'm sure the feeling goes both ways.

yn: (laughs) veryy funny. hopefully it does.

judebellingham

liked by yourusername, jobebellingham, and 3M others

judebellingham maybe i'm too busy being yours

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yourusername let's get married

yourusername sign the contract big boyyy

judebellingham ...

yourusername i think i want to put a baby in you idk

judebellingham WHAT

jobebellingham i think it's meant to be the other way but i'm not too sure

yourusername oh trust that i'm getting your brother pregnant jobe.

judebellingham I AM NOT GETTING PREGNANT.

camavinga mr romantic shed a tear hearing the song btw yourusername

yourusername thank you for telling me this. getting him pregnant fs.

judebellingham STOP THIS

user25 yn so real cause i would also get a man pregnant if he wrote that note about me

user26 yeahhhh like if someone wrote this about me... someone is getting pregnant and it aint me

judebellingham she's going to read these comments and think that she's normal

yourusername you know me so well...

user27 her reaction to that note is completely justified idk what jude is going on about

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

can we perhaps get yn’s reaction to desire unleash concept for no doubt series 🫣🫣🫣

hiiii omg YESSSSS!! i got a second similar request here!! i think yn would just freak out especially at the 'make' concept photos bc jake is just sooo golden retriever baby girl and not ropes, restraints, freaky deaky y'know??? and then jake would REVEL over yn fangirling over him hehehe

──── TOTALLY CUTE AND NORMAL 🤍 ⛓️🖤 ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

It was such a good day.

A good, innocent, lovely day, even.

It's the end of the day, and you're all wrapped up in bed, waiting for Jake to come home from practice.

Minding your business. Bundled up in one of his hoodies. Face buried in a bag of your favorite chips. Body lost in a mountain of blankets. Mindlessly scrolling through your phone like any other night—

Until.

'ENHYPEN 'DESIRE : UNLEASH' CONCEPT PHOTOS

You blink at the notification.

Oh, right.

Jake had mentioned the concept photos were dropping tonight. He didn't tell you the exact time, just smiled that soft, harmless smile of his and said something along the lines of 'It was fun, something new. I think you'll like it."

He made it sound chill. Normal. Innocent.

But then—

You click.

And your life?

Over.

You blink.

You blink again.

And then you sit up. Full body upright, chips spilling slightly, phone clutched in both hands, blinking like you're trying to get out of a dream.

"What the hell..." you mutter to yourself as you scroll through your phone frantically.

Because there he is.

Your sweet, soft, dimpled boyfriend—

Your golden retriever boyfriend—

Your boyfriend, who literally pouted in your face this morning when you teased him by refusing to give him a goodbye kiss—

—wearing a full black suit, eyes heavy-lidded and sharp, hair perfectly fallen just above his lashes so he can look straight through your soul, and worse of all—

His hands. Wrapped up. In. Rope.

A hand slaps over your mouth.

You swipe to the next photo.

Then the next.

And the next.

"Oh my god," you whisper, staring at your phone in horror.

You zoom in on the last photo—a close-up of your boyfriend. White shirt slightly unbuttoned, eyes shining green, his wrists in literal restraints, as he stares right at the camera. Knowing exactly what he's doing.

You need to sit down.

You're already sitting.

You don't even hear the apartment door unlock through your own spiraling.

"Baby?" Jake's voice calls, cheerful, keys jangling. "Pretty, I'm ho—"

He stops.

Because you're frozen. Eyes wide. Staring at him like you've seen God, and He is your boyfriend in rope restraints.

"...Y/N?" he asks slowly, brows furrowed as he approaches you. "Is...everything okay?"

You say nothing.

You just turn your phone around and hold it out to him, pointing at the photos like explain this. Right now.

Jake blinks at his own face on the screen.

Then back at you.

“Oh. They dropped already?”

Already.

Casual. Normal.

Like this wasn’t a world-altering event.

You throw a pillow at him.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" you shout, clearly exasperated. "What happened to my cute and normal boyfriend?!"

Jake laughs—laughs, the menace he is—and catches the pillow mid-air.

“I am cute and normal,” he says bluntly, walking over to lean down and kiss the top of your head.

“Liar."

"Maybe," he teases as he flops down beside you, landing his head in your lap. His grin is dangerous. "You like them?"

You stare down at him, heart pounding, lips parted, brain still buffering from the whiplash.

“Jake,” you whisper quietly. “I think I might be going feral."

His grin widens.

Smug.

Smug and hot, which should be illegal.

“Cool,” he says, voice low, eyes sparkling. “Guess they did their job then.”

You grab another pillow.

He's already halfway off the bed, laughing as he runs off.

no doubt m. list

tag list! pt. 1 (open)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[norrisainz33]

indy || po5

summary: after working a fellowship with mclaren f1 team, you get offered your dream job but the only catch is…. they’re actually sending you to indiana

pairing: pato o'ward x nonfamous!!reader

fc & warnings: becky g kinda and poorly translated spanish and very minor bad language

requested: yes!! omg my first pato fic and request! wahoooo!!!

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

ynuser has made a post

liked by friend1, friend2, yourbff, yoursibling, friend3, friend4, and 543 others

ynuser: AMIGAS!!!! i landed my dream job!!! say hello to arrow mclaren's newest full time photographer!! but please be for real with me rn how many aura points am i losing by moving to indiana………

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friend1: ay dios mío. indianapolis??? wHY

ynuser: no ik BUT why NOT!?

yourbff: i’m so proud of you hermosa chica

ynuser: gracias mi amor

friend2: ngl homie …. a decent amount of aura points

ynuser: ok…. and if i said i actually applied to work in the uk with the mclaren f1 team but they said actually we wanna send you to indycar instead then would i gain any back?

friend2: now hold on you should’ve lead with that

yoursibling: nooooooo you’re leaving me to go to INDIANA?!

ynuser: visit me loser

yoursibling: no!

friend3: too busy looking at how hot you are to even react to the caption

ynuser: 😘😘😘😘😘

friend4: congrats bb girl

ynuser: gracias 🤍

ynuser has made a post

liked by friend2, friend1, yourbff, yoursibling, patriciooward, nolansiegel, davidmalukas, arrowmclaren, and 895 others

ynuser: shes beauty, shes grace, shes me trying to figure out what an overcut is (send help) 😌😌 had the best weekend in st pete! thanks for having me florida xx

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friend1: the way i have followed all indycar and arrow mclaren socials despite not even know what an indy car is just to see all the amazing pics mi amiga takes

ynuser: fan behavior! jk love you bebe

arrowmclaren: welcome to the team y/n!

ynuser: thank you arrowmclaren! couldn't be happier to be here

patriciooward: i'll teach you! solo di cuándo [just say when]

ynuser: 🤯 say less

yoursibling: oh so you'll invite me to indiana but not florida? fake

ynuser: ungrateful for the invite to my new home so no fun trips for youuuuuuu

yourbff: ok hermosa, lo que digas! [ok gorgeous, whatever you say]

ynuser: 😘😘

nolansiegel: great to meet you this weekend y/n! thanks for the sick pics

ynuser: likewise nolan!! ofc its literally my job

user1: so you're the photographer who took those perfect pics for me and my friends!! thank you for being so kind and for indulging us 🤍

ynuser: omg of course!! you guys had the cutest outfits there was no way i wasn't going to photograph xx

ynuser has posted to their private story

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friend2: now hold up..... who dis?

ynusr: heheheheh a driver for mclaren

friend2: he can drive right into me fr

ynuser: ASFGNKF jajajajaja

yourbff: oh you weren't kidding he handsome handsome

ynuser: painfully so.... and he's so nice?? and funny?? and speaks spanish??? and laughed at all my jokes???? and said i looked pretty????? and explained all of indycar to me????

yourbff: nah im OUT

ynuser: he was like lowkey flirting and im freaking out

yourbff: DETAILS NOW

ynuser: well we went out for drinks after our media day here in long beach so he could give me a rundown of indycar right? and like it started professional but after a drink or two he put his hand on the back of my chair, leaned in way closer than necessary and started asking me all these questions about myself instead. like?? sir?? and the whole time his thumb was just casually rubbing little circles on my back like it was nothing??? i was trying to remember the different tire types and he’s over casually giving me bedroom eyes like its nothing. and MAYBE IT IS IDK!!!!

yourbff: i'm speechless. no one casually acts like that w out something behind it no no

ynuser: thats what im saying

yourbff: have you talked since?

ynuser: yes he texted me and said AND I QUOTE: "i really enjoyed getting to know you. lets do this again."

yourbff: i was JUST wearing my pants. no idea where they have gone.

yourbff: he wants you. only explanation.

ynuser: girl pls 😭😭😭😭😭😭

yoursibling: now you're posting a MAN ?! ay dios mío

ynuser: you will never let me live

friend3: your ability to make friend with everyone is incredible. i am so jealous of you

ynuser: omg stoppp

friend4: blah blah blah proper name back story

ynuser: you get it

friend5: i thought we were team penske in this house

ynuser: idk who house your in but it ain't mine!

paticiooward has added to his story

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user2: WHO THIS I INOW THAY AINT MY GIRL ELBA

frosenqvist: this who i think it is?

patriciooward: the chica i was talking about? yes 😏

frosenqvist: ohhhhh making moves huh?

patriciooward: if you mean getting her her favorite coffee and making her giggle then yes

frosenqvist: perfect

user4: PATITOT WHI IS THIS

davidmalukas: oh !

patriciooward: 😊

user5: ok so i’m gonna go camp at this coffee shop now

ynuser: omg not the candid what is this……. ugh at least i look good here

patriciooward: you look good everywhere

ynuser: omg 🥹 gracias pato

patriciooward: de nada y/n/n

user9: pato please don’t do this to me. i thought we had something special

nolansiegel: elba looks different here

patriciooward: hehe you know it’s not elba

nolansiegel: so things are going well with your girl then?

patriciooward: yes they are 😉

ynuser has posted to their private story

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friend1: you look incredible

ynuser: thank you my love ❤️‍🔥

friend2: CAN HE FIGHT BC I WANT YOU

ynuser: honestly i don’t think he can but he won’t have to bc i’m all yours mi amiga

nolansiegel: omg bestie im a private story bestie i could cry

ynuser: you do realize you’re my favorite person in all of indiana right?

nolansiegel: omg this literally made my day i dont think you understand

nolansiegel: now tell me…… is this outfit for a certain teammate of mine 🤨

ynuser: 😔 maybe

nolansiegel: well between you and me that teammate can’t stop talking about how excited he is

ynuser: 😭😭😭😭😭

yourbff: YES YES YES A MILLION TIMES YES

ynuser: yayyyyy gracias!!

patriciooward: damn what other man is taking you out today

ynuser: haha ……. you weren’t supposed to see this i’m gonna die of embarrassment

patriciooward: oh so there is another man?! WHO?! nolan?! david m? JASON FROM FINANCE?!

ynuser: pato please 😭 the only person i’m going on a date with today is you

patricioooward: well in that case your outfit is perfect 😍😫 can’t believe you think i’m the hottest man you’ve ever seen

ynuser: i’m so embarrassed 😔😭 (but you are i can’t lie)

patriciooward: good thing i can’t lie either because i do think you’re the hottest woman i’ve ever seen

ynuser: ay dios mío stopppppp 😭😭😭

friend4: beautiful gorgeous perfect

ynuser: 🤍🤍🤍🤍

yoursibling: you look HOT however i find it horrifying that you’re letting a man take you out

ynuser: it is alarming ik but hes not just any man my dear

ynuser has made a post

liked friend1, arrowmclaren, yourbff, davidmalukas, froseqvist, friend2, yoursibling, friend3, coltonherta, logansargeant, and 4,329 others

ynuser: life is truly crazy because one minute you're crying about moving to a new town and the next you're working your dream job and taking pictures of your situationship going over 200 mph like its no big deal

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friend3: did i miss a chapter here 🤨

ynuser: i’ll call you 😌

davidmalukas: wait im in these pics can i be your situationship too?

ynuser: i mean…..

patriciooward: watch it both of you

friend2: tea tea tea

ynuser: 🤯

patriciooward: oh who that in the number 5 car?

ynuser: mmm just some guy idk

patriciooward: sabes que soy mucho más que un chico cualquiera. [you know i'm much more than just some guy]

user3: love your photos!!

ynuser: 🥹🥹 thank you

yourbff: oh so we’ve upgraded to situationship now?

ynuser: maybe 🫨

patriciooward: she’s playing hard to get 🙄 i thought she was my girlfriend

ynuser: i’m calling hr

yourbff: let’s not fight children

user2: i wish indycar had gossip pages like f1 bc this interaction would be doing insane numbers

yoursibling: wait why you kinda famous who are all these ppl

ynuser: i’m gonna blow up and act like i don’t know you

yoursibling: i believe it

arrowmclaren: we’re so glad you moved to the new city

ynuser: me too 🧡

user5: waitttt you are living the actual dream

ynuser: i am incredibly lucky 🧡

patriciooward has made a post

liked by lando, arrowmclaren, ynuser, yourbff, friend1, user2, user3, user4 and 184,246 others

patriciooward: we gave it everything out there for a beautiful p1! gracias por todo y gracias a mi novia por dejarme publicarla. dejó de hacerse la difícil 😉 [thank you for everything and thank you to my girlfriend for letting me post her. she stopped playing hard to get!]

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user1: felicitaciones!

yourbff: you can tell which pics she took and which one someone else took 😭

patriciooward: the professional was a bit busy in that second shot 😉

ynuser: orgullosa de ti 🧡 [proud of you]

patriciooward: gracias mi amor

lando: congrats on a strong weekend mate!

patriciooward: thanks champ!

user2: naurrrrrrrrrr you have a girlfriend?! congrats ig

frosenqvist: got the girl and the win! let’s go!

patriciooward: yes sir 😉

elbaoward: obsessed with everything about this 🤍

patriciooward: me too 😍

arrowmclaren: that’s our driver!!! [liked by patriciooward]

user4: wahooo patoooooooo

ynuser has made a post

liked by friend1, yourbff, patriciooward, elbaoward, nolansiegel, frosenqvist, yoursibling and 9,345 others

ynuser: dream job lead me to my dream man who woulda thought! patitio te amo mucho 🧡

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yourbff: que románticaaaaaaaa 😍 [how romantic]

ynuser: si si mami

user2: violently sobbing. i wish my job led me to pato oward [liked by ynuser]

nolansiegel: woohooo!! best hard launch ever

ynuser: thanks for the constant hype noly

patriciooward: why didnt i get the same nice comment from you nolan?

ynuser: bc he likes me more :)

nolansiegel: that is true unfortunately! pato who?

patriciooward: W O W

patriciooward: yo tambien te amo bebe [i love you too baby]

ynuser: siempre y para siempre [always and forever]

yoursibling: we've lost a real one chat

ynuser: or gained one depending on how you look at it

frined3: YYEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS [liked by ynuser]

friend4: i wanna be you when i grow up please

ynuser: and you can be easy peasy

user5: imma need you to post a story time about how you broke into motorsports and became a wag at the same time bc you are the blueprint [liked by ynuser]

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

a/n: thanks for reading! likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[w2soneshots]

Please do use the last two will ideas girl!! ❤️❤️

Bride and groom -Willne

words: 1.4k+

warnings: just fluff fluff and more fluff.

summary: in the weeks leading up to your wedding will seemed fine, then just moments before the ceremony starts he freaks out and runs straight to you.

notes: i got this request and did the first two so here’s the others!🫶🏼 i’m obsessed with the idea of being will’s wife so this was a fun one to indulge in🤭💍🤍

"So... red or white roses?" You asked your soon to be husband Will, the both of you sat at your dining room table. "Uh- I dunno, white?" He leaned his elbows on the table. "I agree, next!"

You were in the process of preparing for your wedding, sorting out all the little details together. Will wasn't that bothered and he trusted you to pick the best options but he sat there anyways, since you'd asked him to.

The idea of a huge, fancy wedding abroad didn't appeal to either of you so you're having it in the uk, in a sweet little venue, with just over forty people attending so it's only your closest friends and family.

"Which place holders do you prefer?" You questioned as you flipped another page in the large photo book. He took a deep breath, scanning the page.

"Those are nice." He pointed to some white, card signs that had black cursive writing and soft white flowers stuck to the corners. "Wow. I didn't even look at those but they're perfect," I said softly.

"Oh... really?" He seemed surprised. "Don't knock your taste babe, it's pretty good, I mean you did close to marry me," you smirked teasingly. He chuckled and then turned over the next page for you, now more interested in the process.

Months later your wedding was finally just around the corner. You'd been running around for the past week making sure everything was ready. Today you spent the day having your nails and toenails done, getting a fresh spray tan and having a facial.

"I'm going to make it very clear that you aren't getting lucky tonight. I've just had a spray tan and I'm not willing to ruin it," was the first thing you said to your fiancée after saying hello.

"Alright alight." He held his hands up in defence but then pulled you into a hug anyway, a cheeky smile on his face. Recently you've been all over each other. You put it down to the excitement of getting married, though for you two it wasn't exactly out of the norm to be having sex almost every night.

The day before the wedding you arrived at your venue and checked into the master suite on the top floor of the beautiful building. You'd decided against the whole 'not seeing each other the night before the wedding' thing, though in the morning he was going straight to another room to get ready with his groomsmen and then you weren't going to see each other until you were walking down the isle.

"This place is insane!" you yelled excitedly as you stared out the huge windows that you could see the courtyard from, the same courtyard you're getting married in tomorrow. Will came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your centre, after he'd just got all your bags situated in the corner of the room.

You leaned back into him, letting out a content sigh. "You nervous? For tomorrow?" You asked him softly. He took a deep breath. "Shitting myself to be honest," he confessed lightheartedly. "Me too," you agreed.

You couldn't wait to marry the love of your life though there's a lot of pressure with weddings so it was nerve wracking, since you wanted everything to be perfect.

The night was spent tangled in each other's arms, nothing sexual (you were saving that for the honeymoon) just enjoying your last moments as fiancés before you became something much more serious.

The morning of you squeezed each other goodbye and then he swiftly left to go and join his groomsmen. You weren't alone for long since a fast knock came to your door just moments later.

You opened the door to reveal Sabina, Faith and Talia, your three bridesmaids. All four of you let out a squeal. "Our girls getting fucking married!" Faith yelled excitedly as she hugged you.

Hours later, you'd had your makeup done, your hair was in a beautiful up do and the girls looked amazing in their dresses, it was now time to put yours on.

They'd seen your dress from when you tried it on but you'd had it altered and a few things changed since then, plus it always looked so different on the day when you were completely dolled up.

You managed to get the dress on without any help. You took a second to stare at yourself in the floor length mirror and just take everything in. Then you stepped out into the main room.

All three of them gasped when they saw you. "You look absolutely breathtaking babe," Sabina complemented with her hand on her chest adoringly.

"I always thought Will was punching but this definitely confirms it," Faith muttered jokingly as they all hugged you.

With just half an hour to go before the ceremony started you were taking pictures and filming videos when there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" Talia hopped up from her seat. When she opened the door her brows furrowed, she looked from whoever was standing there to you and then back to them.

"Everything okay?" You asked, standing cautiously. "Uh- it's... Will," she replied. "Will?" You repeated, now slightly alarmed.

"Love?" He called from the other side of the door, "can I please talk to you, just for five minutes?" All of the girls looked at you, awaiting your response.

You nodded to Talia. "You sure? Isn't it supposed to be bad luck?" Faith whispered quickly. "I don't really read into that stuff. Plus, whatever he needs to say must be important," you replied calmly.

The three girls left the room and Will stepped in, closing the door behind him. He stopped in his tracks and his eyes slowly raked up and down your body. "You look- Jesus fucking Christ... you look beautiful."

You smiled shyly. "You don't look to bad yourself," you complemented before stepping towards him and brushing both of your hands over the fabric of the suit covering his shoulders, "you brush up well William."

You turned your head to the side slightly. "So... what's going on? Is something wrong?" You asked cautiously, worried something catastrophic had happened or that he was having second thoughts.

"I'm just- I don't know," he sighed, his head hanging slightly showing that something was clearly troubling him, "I guess I'm just anxious? There's just so much fucking pressure and we always deal with this shit together so it just didn't feel right to be away from you," he admitted.

Truth be told, you were relieved. It was just nerves, which you definitely felt too and you were glad he'd come to see you so you could walk onto the isle with a clear mind and enjoy it.

You nodded and placed your hand on his cheek, bringing his eyes back up to meet yours. "That's totally valid Will. I'd rather you come and talk to me than run off and leave me at the altar in a panic," you lightheartedly joked, lifting the tension from the room.

"Well, I'd never do that. Miss the opportunity of marrying the love of my life? No chance," he replied surely. You smiled. "I'd kiss you but I want to save that for the ceremony, so you'll just have to settle for a hug."

You leaned into each other and shared a strong embrace, releasing any remaining nerves and replacing them with pure anticipation and excitement.

Within twenty minutes you were stood around the corner of the entrance to the isle. The music was playing, your family and friends were quietly chatting as you stood with the girls.

Then it went quiet, everyone was shushed when Talia was the first bridesmaid to walk down the path. Sabina was next, then Faith and finally... you.

You immediately locked eyes with Will, a soft and genuine smile on his face as he watched you walk towards him.

When you finally reached the end of the isle he took your hands and whispered, "you look heavenly." Like he hadn't seen and spoken to you half an hour ago and was seeing you in your dress for the first time.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride!" Will has never kissed you like he did on that altar. He didn't waste any time. It was dramatic yet so romantic and sweet, hands down the best kiss you've ever had.

The rest of the day and night was spent partying and having fun with your friends and family though most importantly, your husband.