#and im genuinely just like. I WAS BEING HELPED. I WANT TO HELP STUDENTS LIKE THAT. its just so weird that

[jaitunapie]

To Break Her Gently(Just Like Me)

//Hanni Pham x Reader//Very mini series//College AU//

Listening to: Pare Ko by Eraserheads

⋆.˚ Masakit mang isipin, kailangang tanggapin. Kung kailan ka naging seryoso — Saka ka niya gagaguhin ⋆.˚

⟡ WARNINGS: FEM READER, cliffhanger???, WEEED (reader sells it lol), Angst, too long to proofread ngl i got lazy and fell asleep, Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong™, psych!student!reader, manipulation, Wony’s kinda evil here (I love her pls don’t hate me) inspired by 10 things i hate abt u (watch it if u havent yet)

⟡ SYNOPSIS: Hanni Pham is busy. Like really busy. She has five deadlines, three group projects (which she’s carrying, obviously), and a scholarship to keep. She does not have time for distractions. Especially not the annoyingly attractive psych major who keeps showing up whereves she goes and calling her “pretty girl”.

So why does it bother her that you suddenly stopped?

⟡ GENRE: College AU · Fake Dating · Second Chance Romance

⟡ WC: 9.4K

Parts: [1]|[2]

a/n: I like psych majors idk, oh ymhofgddd i miss them sm im ognna cry huu

What does it take to make Saint Hanni Pham crack?

Hanni Pham.

How do you even describe her?

Academic weapon. Future summa cum laude. Probably has a five-year plan and a separate five-year plan in case the first one fails.

She’s got a full-ride scholarship. The professors practically drool over her. Admins adore her. The student orgs have practically declared her a patron saint.

So naturally, someone wanted to ruin her life.

Enter, Jang Wonyoung. Tall, pretty, rich, and absolutely deranged about being second place.

She’s been gunning for Hanni’s spot since freshman year and losing every single time. In grades. In recognition. In awards.

Wonyoung even joined Model UN once because she heard Hanni was in it. Guess who walked away Best Delegate?  

Not Wonyoung.

After the third time losing out on an academic grant to Miss Perfect Pham, Wonyoung did what any normal, rational girl would do.

She bribed someone else who could distract the girl.

But who in their right mind would have the guts to mess with Saint Hanni?

Simple.

You.

A broke psych major with a questionable work ethic and even more questionable income sources

A hundred bucks. To ruin her concentration, break her little routine, distract her just enough to knock her off the top. Just a tiny academic tragedy in exchange for a slightly less broke bank account on your end.

Did you feel a little bad?

Yeah. Maybe.

Did you take the money anyway?

Duh.

You figured: how hard could it be? Just annoy the golden girl until she starts slipping. That’s light work, right?

Right?

-

it wasn’t.

It was hell.

No, really. Absolute, exhausting, mind-numbing hell.

Getting through to Hanni Pham was like trying to chip away at a marble statue with a fucking spoon. It wasn’t just that she was smart; because everyone knew that. The girl could recite case studies and philosophical theories like she was reading them off the back of her hand. It wasn’t just that she was diligent. Because, again, no surprise there. 

No, What made it hell was how nice she was about shutting you down.

Her smile, her polite nod, every “Sorry, I really have to go,” or “Maybe some other time?”—it was like being rejected by sunshine itself. You couldn’t even hate her for it. She was so infuriatingly kind. So endlessly patient. So... untouchable.

You tried everything. You tried compliments. She’d thank you, genuinely, and walk away before you could tack on a flirt. You tried being bold. She’d laugh. (that pretty little laugh that did not help) You tried casual conversation. She’d entertain you for maybe a minute and then someone would ask her to help with their notes, or she’d remember a deadline, and she was gone.

And with every failed attempt, you were getting tired. Bone-deep tired. Honestly, you weren't even trying to flirt anymore. You were trying to break into a fortress made of fucking netherite. 

And for what?

The money. That stupid hundred bucks.

Every day, you told yourself: one more try. One more fail. Then I’m done.

And yet—here you were. Again.

Although... lately, you’d started to notice something. There was this faint tightness in her jaw. Her hands tapped her pen too fast. The smiles didn’t come as quick

You didn’t know what was up. Not yet. But maybe that’s why she snapped today.

-

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Are you seriously following me again, L/N?”

You raised a brow, leaning against the edge of the table. “Got your panties in a twist already?”

She looked up, finally, just to glare. “Don’t for one minute think you had any effect whatsoever on my panties.”

“Then what did I have an effect on?”

Hanni shut her laptop with a snap. “Other than my gag reflex? Absolutely nothing, L/N.”

She packed her things in quickly, swung her tote over her shoulder, and then walked off without a second glance.

-

“And then she just left!” you groan, collapsing onto Wonyoung’s bed and hugging an otter plushie.“I’m giving up.”

“Oh my god,” Wonyoung gasps, clutching her heart  “You? Giving up on a girl? What did you do to the Y/N L/N I used to know?”

“You know what-” You squint at her. “Why don’t you do it.”

Wonyoung rolls her eyes “I would—except I’m not her type.”

You squint. “And how the hell do you know her type?”

“She said she likes mysterious people,” Wonyoung shrugs. “You’re mysterious enough.”

“I sell weed behind the chem building.”

“Exactly,” she says, then pulls a book out of her tote and chucks it at you.

You catch it. The cover’s light pink with a doodled heart on the front. Gross.

You wrinkle your nose. “Is this... romance? Wony, I’m not reading your Wattpad bullshit—”

“It’s Hanni’s diary, dumbass.”

You stare at her. “That’s... so illegal.”

“And so is your side hustle.”

You sigh, flipping it open. “Ten bucks or I’m shutting this whole thing down.”

She doesn’t blink. “You’re extorting me with stolen property?”

“Capitalism, Wony.”

“Fine. Fuck you.”

You grin. “That’s extra.”

-

"Y/N L/N, that’s the fifth time this week. Honestly, just say it if you wanna fail."

You wince and give a half-assed shrug. “Sorry, Miss—I missed the bus.”

A lie. But saying “I had to convince my landlord not to throw my stuff on the sidewalk this morning” didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

She clicks her tongue and gestures toward your seat. “Sit down.”

You exhale and shuffle to your seat. Your claimed seat. As in: you claimed it by threatening the actual seat owner a week ago.

You look over. “You got a pen?”

She doesn’t look up. Just hands one over like muscle memory. You recognize the little cat paw on the cap—it’s the third time you’ve borrowed this exact one.

You uncap it and start doodling on your notebook. You glance at her sideways. “Ever think about how generous you are to known degenerates?” you say, tapping the pen.

“Ever think about shutting up?” she replies, still not looking at you.

Okay. try again.

A beat passes. Then—

“How do you keep showing up thirty minutes late and still walk out with just a warning?”

You smirk. “Ouu… getting curious about me now, Pham?”

That earns you a look “don’t flatter yourself.”

“Relax” You lean back in your chair, arms crossed. “I dunno, maybe she just finds me charming.”

“More like concerning,” she mutters. “You’re late. You never bring anything. Your attendance is shit. But she doesn’t even write you up.”

“She’s human,” you shrug. “She has favorites.”

“And you’re one of them?” She snickers, but doesn’t argue. Instead, she turns back to her notes.

…

You tap the desk with the pen. “Tell you what. I’ll spill everything after class.”

Her head tilts slightly. Skeptical. “And why would I waste time on that?”

“…There’ll be bread?”

She hesitates. Not long, Like a little skip in her brain before she catches herself.

“I’m busy.”

Plan B(read) fail.

—

They say food is the way to the heart.

Hanni’s not sure who “they” are, but—okay, maybe it’s a little true. She’s never said no to free food. But free food from a stranger? 

Yeah, no. Stranger danger. She’s seen documentaries.

And yet… it’s not like you’re a total stranger. You’re just always…there. The cafeteria. The library. The hallway outside her 10 a.m. gen lecture even though you’re definitely not enrolled. She's tried to ignore it.

It’s probably a coincidence. Campus isn’t that big.

Or maybe—

No. No, no. Hanni doesn’t do fate. Or signs. Or whatever hopeless romantics call this kind of thing.

Gross.

 She sighs, lightly strumming the guitar resting on her knee.

What do you even want from her?

Her gaze wanders, unthinking. The window beside the rack of acoustic guitars, and beyond it is the street, hot in the summer heat. A couple walks by. Someone’s skateboarding across the path. Another student ducks under the awning to avoid the sun.

She isn’t really looking for you.

But then—there you are.

Across the courtyard, in the building across from the shop, framed perfectly by the bookstore’s wide glass. You’re leaned slightly against the counter, holding a paper bag. Laughing. She sees your profile tilt, your mouth moving with something mid-sentence, your hand pushing back a strand of hair.

It’s weird.

How quickly her stomach flips.

You’re annoying.

She blinks. And right then, like you felt it, you turn.

Your eyes meet hers and maybe she looks away too quickly.

And right then—

Plink.

She looks down. The high E string has snapped. It curls like a loose thread off the fretboard. For a second, she just stares. 

She sighs. Carefully sets the guitar down, but moves a little too fast. Her finger catches the broken string. It stings.

“Ow…”

Tiny dot of red.

Awesome.

She brings the guitar to the front, holding it by the neck. Her voice comes out softer than she wants it to.

“Hey, Tom…”

The old man behind the register looks up from his stool, smiling behind his glasses. “Ah, Hanni, kid! What’s up?”

“I think I snapped a string,” she says. “Sorry—I wasn’t really… I wasn’t being rough, it just—”

He waves it off, already getting up. “It happens. I’ve broken more strings than I’ve played, I swear.”

“No, no—let me pay for it. I’ve got it.” She starts rummaging through her tote bag.

Receipts. Crumpled tissue. A pack of gum.

Wallet.

She flips it open.

Empty. Just an old exam schedule and a faded sticky note reminding her to buy printer ink.

Her throat tightens. She knew she forgot something. She was supposed to withdraw cash this morning, but then they had that last-minute group meeting, and then Minji sent the wrong file, and the chem lab printer wouldn’t scan—

“You don’t have to, kid,” Tom says kindly.

“No, I got it—”

Another voice. Closer.

“I got it.”

Hanni turns slowly and you’re there. Right there. Just behind her, like you’d been standing there the whole time as you slip a bill onto the counter.

The bell above the door must’ve rung earlier. That’s what she’d heard.

“Y/N!” Tom grins. “Been a while!”

Hanni stares, not saying anything. She’s too busy reading your face, trying to figure out if this was planned, or just another coincidence in the ever-growing list of them. The list she’s starting to hate.

Tom gestures between the two of you. “You two know each other?”

You smile, casual. “We’re schoolmates.”

“Unfortunately,” Hanni mutters, quieter than she means to.

Your brows lift. “Hmm?”

She clears her throat. “I said thank you.”

You smile wider. Too wide. “No problem.”

She grabs the receipt Tom hands her and already starts reaching for her bag again. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“How about now?”

She blinks. “I haven’t withdrawn—”

“No, I mean...” you tuck your wallet away. “Dinner.”

Her mouth opens. Nothing comes out.

You laugh, “I’ll pay. Think of it as you accepting your payment.”

She glances at Tom like he might save her.

He raises both hands and shrugs like, Hey, don’t look at me. But there’s a little smile playing at his lips that says he’s seen this kind of scene before. 

Hanni’s fingers brush the edge of the counter. Her heartbeat is annoyingly loud in her ears.

Why is she so nervous?

She licks her lips. Clears her throat.

“Where?”

—

“Aren’t you full already…?” you asked, watching as a crumble of crust clung to the corner of her lip, then tumbled down onto her sweater sleeve.

 “Answer the question.”

You sighed and leaned back in your seat, the plastic of the café chair creaking beneath you. The air smelled like burnt sugar and old books “Miss Park used to be my tutor.”

“That’s it?” she asked, words slightly muffled, the pastry was doing half the talking.

“That’s all,” you said with a shrug, like it didn’t matter. But she narrowed her eyes at you, chewing slower now. Not suspicious—just… curious. Still, she gave a small nod and let it drop.

She licked a crumb off her thumb. “And Tom?”

You clicked your tongue. “Nuh-uh. Only one relationship question per pastry.”

Her brow lifted. “Says who?”

“Says me. My turn.” You pointed a lazy finger at her. “Why are you always so… annoyingly studious?”

She stared at you. “I’m the one asking questions here.”

“Fine, dictator,” you muttered, reaching for your drink. It had gone cold. Tasted like watered-down chocolate and regret.

She grabbed a napkin and dabbed the corner of her mouth with mechanical precision, then flicked her gaze back at you. “Why do you sell... that stuff?”

You tilted your head. The hum of the ceiling fan filled the space between you.

“I need the money,” you said eventually, voice low.

The words just sat there. Not heavy. Just… true.

You picked at the edge of your cup. “Also… it helps people,” you added, quieter. “Helps them chill out. Get through the day. Makes things feel a little less… sharp.”

She didn’t reply right away. Just raised an eyebrow, skeptical but not judgmental. “By getting them addicted?”

“They don’t always get addicted,” you shot back, a little fast. A little defensive. Then, with a shrug: “It’s just… calming.”

She tilted her head at that. Thoughtful.

“Is it good?” you asked her eventually.

She nodded, finishing the last bite of her pastry. A beat passed. Then, wordlessly, she tore a piece from her third carp bread and held it out to you.

You smiled, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

Her hand hovered for a beat longer than necessary, then she popped the piece into her own mouth. “Your loss,” she said, lips tugging into the faintest smile.

—

“Good morning, Miss Pham,” you say as you drop into the seat across from her—voice laced with that fake cheer you save for people you enjoy annoying. Or people you... whatever. Doesn't matter.

Hanni doesn’t even bother looking up. Just sighs. “It’s too early for you to be this loud.”

You smirked. No immediate roast today. Progress.

“It’s the perfect time,” you replied, sliding your bag under the table. “What are you even studying for? Exams aren’t until next week.”

She flips a page, still not looking at you. “Didn’t think you’d know that.”

“Wow,” you say, pressing a hand to your chest. “I dabble in calendar literacy, thank you very much.”

“This isn’t for the exams,” she added, eyes still scanning text. “Regional competition.”

“Obviously.”

She finally looks up, eyes sharp and amused in that way that makes your stomach shift a little too much. She expected that reaction out of you.

“What about you?” she asks. “Studying?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I look like someone who studies?”

She doesn’t answer, but the corner of her mouth twitches.

“I mean,” you say, stretching your arms behind your head, like the ceiling’s ever done anything interesting, “if I actually tried, I’d probably beat you.”

That gets her. She looks up properly now.

“I’d like to see you try.”

And you should’ve just laughed. Should’ve brushed it off like you always do.

“Challenge accepted,” you say, trying to recover. “You want competition that bad?”

“No.” Her voice softens, just barely. “Seriously.”

A pause.

“I think you could do it.”

Your smirk falters. Just a second.

“What,” you say, trying to lace your voice with a joke that doesn’t quite land, “you recruiting your next academic rival or something?”

“Maybe,” she says, and this time, she closes the book gently. Doesn’t shove it aside. Just lets her fingers rest on it as she’s still holding the thought. “Study with me.”

Your instinct is to say no. Because that’s the plan. 

Keep distance.

But she’s looking at you like she means it. 

Why?

You exhaled silently.

“…Fine,” you say. “One session.”

You don’t say that your stomach’s doing that fluttery thing again.

Or that for a second, you almost forgot you were supposed to be playing her.

You don’t remember when you last studied seriously.

Not studied like skimming a page with your eyes half open.

Not studied like rewriting a bullet point just to feel like you tried.

Was it for the entrance exam? No. You barely even read the first page. You just sat there chewing on the pen cap until the taste of metal and ink sat bitter at the back of your tongue.

Was it in middle school? Or sixteen—when you moved in with your aunt and uncle, into a house where the dinner table was always quiet but the silverware loud, and the bathroom always smelled like mildew, lavender, and cold ceramic that never warmed up under your feet?

Or maybe it was when they got divorced two years later—like some part of you had been waiting for the final crack in the drywall to split the whole thing open.

You don’t remember. And you think you’ve stopped wanting to.

But what you do remember is— you’ve always hated studying. Always. Hated the way it wanted silence from you, the way it asked for stillness you never really had. Hated sitting there under the ugly stale yellow light of your night lamp, scratching notes into your notebook. So you used headphones. Not for music at first—just to mute the noises. Mute the verbal war going on downstairs, the sound of forks clinking against plates followed by the usual “You always…” “You never…” “Can’t you just…”

Though, at some point, elementary or  middle school maybe, you kind of liked it. The praise. The novelty of being good at something. Your mother used to beam when she saw your report cards. You remember the folder stuffed fat with awards, papers curling at the edges, certificates with your name spelled in big, proud letters. She used to call you her little genius. You don’t remember when she stopped.

But she did.

Eventually, the compliments turned into expectations, and the expectations turned into pressure, and the pressure became your whole identity. It was never enough. You were never enough. Not unless you were holding something at least; a medal, a ribbon, something that could be shown off at a dinner party while she laughed and said, “She gets it from me.” You swore once, when you were nine, that you’d be a doctor. That you’d make her proud. She cried when you said it and hugged you too hard. You felt her ribs in that hug. You felt her joy, and you thought, maybe this is what love is.

But it wasn’t.

It was what she wanted. And that’s different.

You started noticing that everything you wanted had to come second. Or third. Or never. That being “gifted” wasn’t a gift at all. It was a small glass room. You were the display, the fragile object in the center that everyone clapped for, but no one let out in fear that it might get damaged. Outside, kids your age played in the rain. You weren’t allowed to join. You watched them from the window with a pencil in your hand, your back aching from sitting so straight.

You remember, once, sneaking out when your parents were both working. You went to the playground and you thought, maybe someone will let me be a kid.

They didn’t.

You remember standing by the swing with the missing broken seat. You remember the stares. Not mean, just confused, they knew you didn’t belong. They sat together at the seesaws like atoms and you were the outsider molecule.

There was a girl, though. Pink party hat, carp bread in her hand. You remember her wide lopsided smile, her bangs stuck to her forehead from running too much. She handed you the bread in its crinkled plastic wrap and said, “My mom gives me food when I’m sad. It helps.”

You remember thinking: What does that even mean? You remember looking up at her and, for the first time, wondering what someone else was thinking.

“Where’s your mom?” the taller girl behind her asked. She got smacked for it. “Don’t ask her that!” Pink Hat said, turning to you with a sincere apology on her face. And then the rain came like it had been holding its breath all day and finally exhaled.

They ran. Moms rushing toward them with umbrellas and jackets. Kids laughing, slipping, squealing. You stood still. The rain poured onto your hair like it was trying to wash something off of you. You hid the bread under your shirt and sniffled but didn’t cry.

An orange cat sat beneath the tunnel slide, tilting its head at you like it wanted to understand. You walked toward it, shoes squelching in the wet sand. Sat inside the tunnel where the rain couldn’t touch you but the cold still did. You broke off a piece of the bread and handed it to the cat. It bit you, took the bread and ran with it.

You stayed. Arms wrapped around your knees, chin tucked down. You stayed until the sky dimmed and the swing outside creaked annoyingly.

When you got home, soaked, your mother didn’t ask why. She just shouted — Why did you leave your books? She didn’t see your wet hair. She didn’t see your hand bleeding. She didn’t ask about the bite.

That was the day you started hating studying. Not just the act, but the whole idea of it. What it meant and what it had taken from you. You stopped pretending. Stopped thinking that studying was anything other than what it really was–Proof. Of being enough and being useful.

Though the orange cat kept coming back after that. You’d see it outside your window, just sitting there like it was waiting for you to come outside to feed it. You fed it crackers, rice, leftover fish sometimes. It never bit you again. It started waiting at the gate when school ended. You’d pretend it was yours. You knew it wasn’t—the pink collar gave it away. Yet it still stayed.

Until the day you left. You were putting your bags in the car, the driveway wet with last night’s rain, and you saw it. Sitting there. Not running up to you nor meowing. Just watching. You opened the door but It still didn’t move. And then it turned. And walked away.

You didn’t cry. You should’ve.

Then came the rest. The move. The divorce. College. The feeling that everything breaks eventually.

—

But here you are, weeks later, in the library.

One session turned into three.

Then five.

At first, it was just for the money. You told yourself that. You sat across from Hanni Pham and made sarcastic commentary about the way her handwriting looked like a font. She mostly ignored you—except for the occasional sigh or dry remark that made your stomach twist in ways you didn't have the vocabulary to explain.

But then she started saving you a seat.

Not out loud, of course. She never said This is for you. But the chair opposite hers was always pulled out and the extra pen was always there.

It freaked you out, honestly.

Like—did she know?

Did she see through you?

Because you weren’t exactly subtle. Not really. You’d drop random references to Kant or Freud just to see if she’d look up. You’d poke at her note margins like you were teasing her, but really you just wanted to hear her laugh. Wanted to see that flicker in her eyes before she swallowed it back down again like she always did.

Some days you didn’t even talk. She’d have her notes out, and you’d have your half-assed attempts at pretending you knew what you were doing. She never called you out for it. Never asked what you were actually doing, she just let you sit there. 

And you hated it.

Not her.

Just the fact that you started wanting to try.

Which was worse.

Because you were supposed to distract her. 

But now you’re here, sitting across from her.

And you’re starting to really hate the version of yourself that said yes to all of this in the first place.

And then one quiet afternoon where the dust danced in the golden sunlight through the window that made everything feel softer. 

You didn’t say anything at first. You just looked back.

“What?” you finally asked.

She blinked. Looked away. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” you said, leaning forward. “You were staring.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You so were.”

A minute passes “I was just wondering,” she said, still not meeting your eyes, “how someone like you ended up here.”

“‘Someone like me?’” You laughed, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “What, a burnout?”

“No,” she said, and it was too soft to be anything but honest. “Someone who doesn’t believe they belong.”

And wow.

You hated that.

Hated how it was too accurate. Like she’d cracked your chest open and found the part of you even you pretend isn’t there.

“You think I don’t belong?”

“I think you do,” she said, finally looking at you. “But I don’t think you think that.”

It landed like a punch, even though her voice was gentle. She wasn’t trying to hurt you. 

After a beat, you muttered, “I don’t actually smoke, you know.”

Her head tilted. “What?”

“I just sell it. For the cash.”

“Figured.”

No judgment?

She leaned back in her chair. “So what did you want to do?”

You didn’t answer immediately because the question felt heavier than it should’ve.

“I don’t know,” you said, then corrected, “...Actually, I wanted to be a forensic psych.”

That made her raise an eyebrow.

You shrugged. “I like knowing how people work. Why they do the things they do. Thought maybe if I understood the worst of them, the rest wouldn’t seem so impossible.”

She nodded, slowly. “That tracks.”

You didn’t say the rest. About the notes you kept in your old phone of the symptoms your mom never got diagnosed for. Or how your dad called you “overdramatic” every time you cried and still expected you to set the table. Or how deep down, you just wanted to stop people like them from becoming the reason someone else ends up in therapy.

“What about you?” you asked, voice softer.

“If med school doesn’t work out,” she said, fingers absently brushing her notes, “I’d want to be a vet. Or maybe a musician.”

That surprised you. “Musician?”

“Yeah,” she said with a small smile. “Guitar. Ukulele. Piano. I used to write songs in high school, but... I don’t know. Felt silly.”

“Doesn’t sound silly.”

The silence after that wasn’t awkward.

You started looking forward to the library. And, against all better judgment, maybe to her.

—

The sun was relentless, but the game was somehow still going. Minji’s backyard wasn’t exactly pro court material, but the net was up, and no one had collapsed from heat stroke yet, so. Success?

Minji served again, cleanly and fast.

“How do you know if you like someone?” Hanni asked, like she was commenting on the weather.

Minji raised a brow mid-jump. “Why’re you asking that now?”

“Why not?” Hanni replied, feigning nonchalance.

“UNNIE, ARE YOU IN LOVE?!” Danielle gasped from across the net, hands flying to her face just as the ball bounced pathetically at her feet.

Hanni rolled her eyes and bent down to grab it. “No, Dani. I’m not.”

Danielle grinned. “Your face says otherwise.”

“Mhm, It’s kind of red,” Haerin added helpfully, lips curled into a smirk. She bumped the ball back to Minji, who caught it instead of spiking it.

“Could be the sun,” Hanni muttered.

“Could be something else,” Danielle sing-songed. “Or someone else—Ooooh, is this about—”

“It’s not about Y/N,” Hanni snapped, turning just in time to miss the ball Minji had tossed back lightly. It hit her square in the forehead with a soft thunk.

A beat of silence. 

“…No one mentioned Y/N,” Haerin said, eyebrows raised, trying not to laugh.

Minji was already grinning. “That’s… kind of suspicious, no?”

From the bench in the shade, Hyein didn’t even glance up from her phone. “If you’re asking, you probably already like them,” she said flatly, thumbs tapping. “You just want someone else to say it first.”

The entire yard went quiet.

“Thank you, Hyein,” Hanni called, raising a hand like a distant high-five. “The youngest, ladies and gentlemen.”

Everyone else had gone home.

Hanni was still on Minji’s couch, arms crossed, hair still a little damp with sweat. The TV was on but muted, casting soft light across the living room.

“So…” she said, dragging the word out. “What was that earlier?”

Hanni blinked up at her. “What was what?”

The taller girl scoffed. “Don’t do that. Don’t play dumb.”

Hanni sighed and sank further into the cushions wishing to disappear. “I’m pretty sure I don’t like her.”

Minji raised both eyebrows. “Right. Is that why I saw you two at that café last week?”

Hanni groaned. “Okay, let me explain.”

“I’m listening.”

“I only said yes to that because Miss Park told me she’d bump my grade if I could convince Y/N to study, and because she did me a favor.” Hanni explained, hands moving animatedly. “That’s literally it.”

Minji paused. “Your grades are already good. Why would she—?”

“You’re missing the point.” Hanni leaned in. “Y/N’s late to class, like, every day. No detention. No warnings. Nothing. You don’t see it because you’re not in our class, but I swear, it’s weird. So I thought—hey, maybe if I get close, I’ll figure out what kind of deal she has with Miss Park.”

Minji blinked. “So what, you’re, like… spying?”

“It’s not spying,” Hanni muttered. “It’s… observing.”

Minji burst into a laugh. “Ohhh, and what about the part where you saved her a seat three days in a row? Was that just research too?”

“Shut up,” Hanni said, reaching out to shove her playfully.

Minji dodged just enough to avoid spilling her drink, grinning the whole time.

Then Hanni’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.

She glanced down and her breath caught—just a little.

You: are you free next week?

---

Everyone has a price. You used to think yours was pride.

But pride didn’t pay rent. And rent had started speaking louder lately—well more like shouting, really, in the form of red notices taped to your door and your landlord’s punch-like knock echoing through the thin walls of your apartment. 

Two weeks. That’s what he gave you. Fourteen days to shit out cash you didn’t have.

Gone would be the cracked ceiling you’d grown oddly fond of, the lukewarm showers you’d tolerated, the paper-thin walls that broadcast your neighbor’s stupid metallica addiction, the orange kitten that somehow gets in your home everytime you come home. And yet the thought of leaving didn’t feel like freedom at all. 

You’d sat yourself in the back corner of the campus café, hunched low beneath your hoodie, nursing a tea you hadn’t paid for. Across from you, Wonyoung looked ethereal, her iced Americano sweating and ignored. 

 But she wasn’t here to hang out.

“So,” she said, eyes fixed on you like she was analyzing something under glass. “There’s this party.”

You didn’t look up. Just kept doodling in the margins of your notes. “Cool.”

“It’s next week.”

You nodded. Didn’t ask.

She leaned forward, arms resting on the table now. “You should bring Hanni.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the night before regionals.”

That made you pause.

“And?. You want her to be—what—hungover?” You gave a small laugh, more disbelief than humor.

Wonyoung didn’t answer. She just tilted her head, like she thought this part should be obvious by now.

Your eyebrows lifted.

“I'm not asking you to make her drink. Just…distracted. Off her game. Whatever works.”

“Wow,” you said flatly. “So casual. Want me to spike her drink while I’m at it?”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

…

“...I’m not doing that,” you said, voice quiet but steady. “That’s not part of the deal anymore.”

“You said you’d help.”

“Not like this.”

“It’s one night.”

“She’s been preparing for weeks.”

“So have I,” Wonyoung snapped. For the first time, her voice cracked—just slightly. Then it flattened out again. “Look. You get her to come. Just keep her distracted. Doesn’t even have to be drinking. Just enough to make her tired or off her game.”

“No.”

“Y/N—”

“I said no.” The words tasted final in your mouth. “I’m done with this whole operation.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then Wonyoung leaned back in her chair, studied you like she was recalibrating. “You’re getting soft.”

You clenched your fists. “Or maybe I just remembered that she’s a person.”

She scoffed. “You weren’t saying that when you were ready to ruin her.”

She wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part. There had been a time—not long ago—when this entire scheme felt justifiable, But that was before study sessions turned into excuses to be with her. Before stolen glances started lingering. Before you caught yourself hoping she’d text first. Before it stopped feeling fake.

“I’m out,” you said, steady this time. “Do what you want, but I’m done.”

Wonyoung didn’t move. Just studied you for a long, quiet second, and you knew her long enough to know that she was running calculations in her head. Then her voice dropped.

“If you walk, I tell her.”

You froze. The shift wasn’t subtle. It didn’t need to be.

“I’ll tell Hanni everything,” she continued, “How this started. Who put you up to it. Why you talked to her in the first place.”

“She won’t even look at you after that,” Wonyoung added, almost bored. “You’ll still lose her. Just without the paycheck.”

A knot twisted in your stomach. One part anger, two parts fear.

“She won’t believe you,” you said, but your voice lacked weigh

Wonyoung didn’t argue. She didn’t need to. You both knew Hanni might.

“Fine” Then Wonyoung leaned in, voice soft now. Too soft. “Three hundred.” She let it hang. Knew it would. Knew what it meant to someone like you, someone with overdue bills and plastic bags used as garbage liners and a cracked screen too expensive to replace.

It rang in your head like a siren.

Three. hundred.

It sounded like safety. It sounded like two weeks of silence from your landlord. Like a month of not having to explain things to your aunt.

“I already said no.”

“I know,” she said. “But think about it, okay?”

You didn’t answer. You just picked up your phone and walked out.

Twenty minutes.

That’s how long you’d been sitting on the roof deck ledge, your legs half-asleep, the city humming low beneath you like it didn’t care whether you moved or not. The wind tugged lightly at your sleeves, and the air smells like exhaust.

You still hadn’t replied to any of the four notifications on your screen.

One from your landlord, something about next month’s rent.

Two from a friend asking if you wanted to go out that weekend.

One from your aunt reminding you to eat. Again.

 And then, at the bottom is hanni’s contact.

Your finger hovered and tapped. 

"Are you free in three days?"

You didn’t hit send.

Not yet.

Because how the hell did it end up like this?

You'd sworn you’d never be that kind of person. The kind that played with people. The kind that lied to someone’s face while secretly carrying a hidden motive. The kind that became the reason someone else stared at their ceiling at 3 am, wondering what they did wrong.

You always thought you'd be better than that.

And yet.

Here you were.

Sitting on a rooftop with a message you had no right to send and a heart that was far too involved for what this wasn’t supposed to be.

You hit send then locked your phone.

None of this was real anyway, right?

Even if, god forbid, some part of you wanted it to be.

-

You couldn’t sleep.

The sheets were too warm, tangled around your legs and god they might as well be trying to hold you hostage. You flipped your pillow over for the third time that hour, hoping the cold side would finally knock you into unconsciousness. It didn’t.

Your phone screen stayed dark on the nightstand. But you kept glancing at it anyway. Waiting for something. 

This was stupid.

You weren’t even sure what you were waiting for anymore. An answer? Permission? A reason to back out?

You sighed. Pulled the blanket higher and closed your eyes.

Your phone lit up on the nightstand.

Your phone lit up.

Hanni.

Your breath caught.

3:04 a.m.

You scrambled for it, heart doing something weird in your chest. Thumb swiping before you could think too much.

“Up early, pretty?” you said, teasing—You started calling her that after she let it slip once. “pretty”. Said it under her breath when she thought you weren’t listening. You’d weaponized it ever since, just to see her squirm. She always rolled her eyes and told you to cut it out.

So, obviously, you kept saying it.

But this time—

“…Who is this?”

Not her.

The voice on the other end was wrong

“…Sorry—who?” you asked, suddenly very awake.

“This is Hanni’s father.”

Oh.

“…Right,” you said, voice cracking slightly. “Uh, sorry. Wrong—number?”

He didn’t answer.

You hung up. Fast.

The silence afterward was loud.

You dropped your phone face-down on the blanket and just sat there.

You hadn’t heard from Hanni since the call. She’s probably busy. But now you were waiting. Waiting for the moment you’d get hit with it—literally or verbally, you weren’t sure which.

It came the morning later, in the form of a textbook to the head.

"Ow—what the—?" You looked up from your laptop just in time to see Hanni drop her bag on the chair across from you, sliding into the library seat like she had every right to assault someone.

She raised a brow. “Good reflexes.”

You gawked at her. “You threw a book at my head!”

“Anatomy,” she said, like that explained anything. “Figured you needed to study up on nerve endings. Since you clearly don’t have any.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You.”

“Me?”

She leaned in, “Did you—or did you not—call me pretty over the phone?”

You paused. Slowly closed your laptop. “Okay, technically—yes. But—”

“At three in the morning.”

“It was meant to be a joke!”

“To my dad?” she whisper-yelled, eyebrows hitting maximum height.

You cringed. “I didn’t know it was your dad! I thought it was you, obviously. I wouldn’t flirt with a grown man at 3am —I have standards ew what the hell.”

“Do you also have a death wish?”

You tried to smile. She didn’t.

“Okay.”

She sighed like it physically hurt her. “He told my mom. Y/N.”

“They think you’re my girlfriend now.”

Your heart did a weird stutter. “And… you clarified, right?”

She tilted her head. “I tried. I said we’re just friends—you know what my mom said?”

You shook your head.

“She said, ‘It’s okay to be shy about it, Hanni. We think she sounds sweet.’”

Your lip twitched. “Don’t,” she warned. “I’m not!” you said, trying very hard not to smile. “I’m being respectful.” “Respectfully shut up,” she muttered.

You pressed your mouth into a tight line. The corners still betrayed you. “At least they’re not homophobic?” you offered carefully. “Yes. that's amazing dude,” she said, deadpan. “Also not the freaking point.”

You cleared your throat, trying to recompose yourself. “Okay. So... what now?” “They want to meet you.” “Sorry—what?” “Dinner,” she said, like it was a minor inconvenience. “Tomorrow” “Dinner?” “Yes.”

You looked over at her, eyes squinting. “Why’d they even call me in the first place?” “They got suspicious,” she said, pulling a notebook from her bag, “ About me coming home late after our study sessions, so they checked my phone.” You frowned. “That’s lowkey invasive.” “They’re my parents,” she said with a shrug. “I kinda don’t get a say.”

—

“Too slutty.”

You groaned as you returned to the room to pick another set of clothes, tossing the leather jacket onto your friend’s already chaotic bed. You pulled out a plain white button-up and stared at it in the mirror.

“Too boring,” you muttered. “I’m not trying to look like her professor.”

Your phone buzzed on the dresser. It was a text from Hanni “How���s the outfit hunt going?”

“Terribly. Do your parents even like leather? Because that’s all I’ve got here.”

The reply came instantly

“Wear whatever man, Just… don’t look like a felon.”

You rolled your eyes. Easier said than done.

Ryujin peeked her head through the doorway, arms crossed and barely holding back laughter. “You know, for someone who sells weed for a living, you care way too much about impressing her parents.”

“It’s not her. It’s the deal. I eat at family dinner, and in return, she shows up at the party next week. Whatever, we both get what we want.”

Ryujin rolled her eyes but smirked. “This is different. you're too invested-.”

Ignoring her, you grabbed a sweater from your chair, pulling it over your head. “Better?”

Ryujin gave you a once-over and shrugged. “Passable. You look like someone who could… I don’t know, work a nine-to-five.”

“Ha! That’s what I’m going for,” you said, grabbing your sneakers. “’Stable and responsible.’”

As you’re putting on your shoes, Hanni sends a follow-up text: “Are you sure you can pull this off? They’re going to ask questions.”

You replied: “dw I’m great under pressure. Besides, your parents will love me😁👍”

Hanni: “...That’s what I’m afraid of.💔”

“Anyways, head outside, I'm here, blue car.”

You sent a little thumbs up emoji as you hurried out sending a little thanks to Ryujin for letting you borrow her clothes

You squinted down the curb until you spotted the car and jogged toward it.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you turned to Hanniwith  a smirk. "Well? How do i look”

Hanni barely spared you a glance as she pulled out of your driveway. "You look like someone who got lost on the way to their corporate job and ended up selling weed instead."

"Perfect. Thanks."

She let out a deep sigh, gripping the wheel a little tighter. "Just… don’t overdo it, okay? My mom is wayy too excited to meet you, and my dad is already suspicious."

You raised an eyebrow. "Suspicious of what?"

Hanni shot you a deadpan look. "Of me going home late because of you. Of the fact that I suddenly have a ‘girlfriend’ and never mentioned it. Of literally everything. He’s a cop, by the way."

"A cop?"

"Ex-cop. Still terrifying."

You inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to throw yourself out of the moving car. "And you’re telling me this now??"

"Would it have helped?"

You opened your mouth, then shut it. Yeah, probably not.

—

The second you sat down, he leaned forward. “So. How did you two meet?”

Right…Straight into it, then.

You glanced at Hanni. She looked a little caught off guard too, but recovered quickly, her leg brushing against yours under the table.

“Oh,” you said, buying time, “We had a class together. Chem lab. One of those forced group activity things. We got paired up.”

It wasn’t a full lie. 

Her dad nodded slowly. “And you’re taking…?”

“Psych,” you replied.

He didn’t nod nor smile “So, not medicine.”

You smiled anyway. “Nope. I’m more into the mind than the body.”

A pause.

 “And what made you decide on that?”

You hesitated—not because you didn’t know, but because something about the way he looked at you made it feel like your answer might go on something like a permanent record.

“I guess I like… figuring people out,” you said eventually. “Why they do things. Even when it doesn’t make sense. It makes me slower to judge.”

Something shifted in his expression—almost approval. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

Her mom smiled. “That's very thoughtful. Hanni did say you were insightful.”

Your eyes flicked to Hanni. She pretended to focus on pouring water.

Then came the next bullet.

“And how long have you two been… seeing each other?”

There was the briefest hitch in your breath.

Hanni turned to you slightly, mouthing: Say three months.

You nodded, whispered: Got it.

Then turned back to her parents with a bright, and very confident smile.

“A year.”

Hanni’s leg jerked under the table as she kicked you hard, and her dad’s head snapped to look at her—eyebrows raised in silent surprise.

You barely flinched. “Time flies when you’re in love.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” her mom gasped. “Hanni’s never brought anyone home before.”

“Seriously? I’m the first?”

That was… surprising. She was literally the most dateable person you’d ever met.

Hanni muttered, half into her napkin, “Unfortunately.”

Her dad didn’t let up. “And how exactly did you and Hanni… get together?”

You grinned. Oh, you had this one ready.

“She chased me.”

Hanni choked on her water. “I—excuse me?”

“Obsessed,” you added. “She kept texting me. Kept showing up wherever I was, super romantic stalker behavior, really.”

Hanni’s dad slowly turned his head to stare at her.

“She’s joking,” Hanni nervously laughed.

“Am I?” you said, winking.

Her dad raised an eyebrow. “Is she?”

You grinned.

Hanni looked like she was considering homicide.

Thankfully, her mom stepped in, placing a gentle hand on her husband's arm. “Oh, I just love young love.”

Then, with a sudden brightness, she perked up. “The roast! I think it’s done. Hanni, dear, would you get it from the oven?”

Hanni stood up like the chair was on fire, shooting you a final don’t fuck this up look before vanishing into the kitchen.

The moment she was gone, silence settled in.

“Y/N.”

Oh no.

You turned back to find her dad watching you—not coldly, but still very much in dad mode.

You straightened your back. “Yes, sir?”

He sighed, rubbed his thumb along the edge of his glass. “I hope I didn’t come off too harsh earlier.”

“She’s never brought anyone home before.” He continued,. “It’s not that I don’t like you. I just—”

“I get it,” you cut in gently. “You love her. You want her safe. You want the best.”

His eyes searched your face for a second, like he was testing if you meant it. Then, finally, a quiet nod.

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he added, softer this time. “It’s… nice to see her with someone stable.”

You swallowed.

That part was almost funny.

“Mhm. Yeah.” You forced a small smile. “Though—if I may? Just an opinion.”

He gave a cautious look. “Go on.”

You glanced toward the kitchen, then back. “I think you should let Hanni… be a little more free. She knows what she’s doing. She’s smart. And careful. But she can’t breathe if the leash is too short.”

He didn’t respond right away.

 “...You’re not what I expected.”

You tilted your head. “Is that a good thing?”

“We’ll see.” He smiled.

And from the kitchen came the sound of Hanni yelling “It’s fine, it’s just a little smoke!”

-

“See? I told you I got it,” you said, laughing as you leaned back on your hands.

Hanni groaned, dragging her palms down her face. “That was so embarrassing.”

“They loved me,” you teased, kicking at a loose pebble by your shoe.

She peeked at you through her fingers. “My dad looked like he wanted to run a background check.”

“He probably did.”

Hanni laughed. Briefly. Just a breath of it. Then her hands dropped back to her lap.

And maybe it was the way she went still for a second that made the next words come out the way they did.

“So… about the party?”

You meant it light—casual. But the air changed the second it left your mouth.

“Right,” she said, not looking at you. “The party.”

You didn’t press.

A breeze passed by, brushing her hair against her cheek. She exhaled.

“I… don’t think I can go.”

You paused. You kept the smile, but it felt wrong now—stiff at the corners.

“Oh,” you said. Tried to keep your voice from dipping. “Why not?”

“I know I said I would,” she added quickly. “And I meant it. I did. It’s just…”

Her eyes dropped to a chipped patch of wood near her feet. The porch creaked faintly as she shifted.

“Something came up?” you offered.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

You don’t believe her. Not fully. But you don’t push either. You just watch her thumb run over the same corner of fabric again and again, like maybe she thinks she can rub the moment away if she tries hard enough.

“I mean,” you said gently, “you don’t have to stay long. You can come late, leave early. I’ll walk you in. I’ll walk you out. Whatever makes it easier.”

She doesn’t look at you.

There’s this beat where it feels like something invisible’s pressing in around your chest.

“Why are you pushing this so much?” 

You blinked.

“…What?”

She turned toward you a little, brows drawn but not angry. Just… searching.

“What’s in it for you?” she asked.

You blinked again, slower this time. The porch creaked faintly under your shifting weight.

“What do you mean?”

“This. All of this.” Her voice didn’t rise, but something in it curled tight. “Why do you want me at this party so bad?”

You straightened a little, suddenly aware of how your hands were resting in your lap, your thumb rubbing over the side of your palm like a nervous tic.

“Because I want you there,” you say, trying to keep your voice even. “Is that weird?”

She didn’t answer.

You kept going, “Do I need a reason to want to hang out with you? I thought that was kind of the point.”

Still, nothing.

You fumble for something else. Anything. “I just thought… I don’t know. It’d be nice. If you were there.”

And for a second, you think she softens.

But it’s not toward you. It’s not the kind of soft that says maybe she’s changing her mind. It’s like she already has.

She stands up. Slowly. Like she’s waiting to see if you’ll say something that changes the moment.

You don’t.

“I should go,” she says, quieter than before.

“Hanni—”

She turns, and the porch creaks. The door groans a little as you wait for the slam.

But it doesn’t come. 

She closes it softly.

—

The clock blinked 12:00 in that soft, judgmental way only digital clocks can—like it wasn’t just keeping time but reminding her that she was still here, still stuck, still on the same page of the same notebook she’d been staring at since the sky was pink.

The page in front of her was a mess—ink smudges, arrows drawn and redrawn until they tore the paper, chemical formulas that no longer made sense under the dim light of her desk lamp, and at the very bottom of the page, almost invisible, a small dot where her pen had rested too long.

She let her head fall forward with a soft thud against the desk, cheek pressed to her open notes, breathing in that dry-paper scent, that weird combination of ink and highlighter and the faint, lingering smell of the strawberry lotion she applied earlier that day just to feel a little more like a person and a little less like a panic machine.

Was she being too much?

Too guarded, too reactive, too quick to assume the worst of someone who’d—God—looked at her like she mattered? Someone who'd laughed like she was easy to love and touched her guitar with careful hands and eyes full of awe, not like it was an instrument, but like it was an extension of her? 

She didn't know. And she hated not knowing.

Uncertainty was an itch she couldn’t scratch. It crawled under her skin, filled the silence in her chest, made her legs bounce and her throat tighten and her hand reach, again and again, for the only thing that had ever calmed her down when her thoughts grew too loud.

The guitar was resting by the bed, just where she'd left it that morning, leaned against the wall like it had been waiting for her. It always waited.

She picked it up carefully, fingers brushing over the frets.

She tried to strum—just a chord, anything, but her hands didn’t want to move the way they usually did, and her brain wasn’t offering her the usual pour of melodies. It just gave her you.

You, watching her play with your chin in your palm and your eyes too bright for the dim room. You, nodding to her rhythm like it was something sacred. You, the soft exhale of breath after the last note, like you’d been holding it the whole time.

You, handing her a bunny bandage after she pricked her finger on a snapped string

And suddenly, even the strings didn’t sound right, God—even music had too much of you in it.

She sighed and placed the guitar back down, careful not to let it clatter. She’d scratched it once, two years ago, on the leg of her desk, and it still made her stomach flip every time she saw that shallow scar on the side—because she remembered crying after, like it was a person she’d hurt. Like it had feelings.

She sat on the bed for a while, not doing anything.

Her phone was beside her, lit up with unread messages. The one from earlier still sat there, unopened from an anonymous number.

“You really think she’s not playing you?”

She hadn’t responded. She didn’t know if she wanted to.

Should she show you? Should she say sorry for how quick she’d pulled away, for the look she’d given you when you asked about the party, like you were offering a trap and not a night to be near her?

She didn’t know. And she hated that, too.

The competition was in a week. She needed to study. Needed to focus. No distractions, no parties, no goddamn feelings.

And yet here she was, letting her whole night warp around someone’s stupid laugh and someone’s stupid stammer and someone’s stupid eyes that didn’t know how to lie. 

Ironic, really. You’re a psych major.

You should’ve been better at lying.

She turned her head toward the shelf by the corner of the room, eyes falling on a pink party hat, that had crinkled at the edges and had tiny stars glued to it by a child’s hand.

It had dust on the tip.

She hadn’t touched it in years.

Minji’s birthday. That’s where it was from. She remembered the park, the cake, Minji’s mom tying the hat ribbon too tight under her chin, making her sound like a squeaky toy when she laughed.

And she remembered a kid.

A kid, just like her, who wandered a little too far from the picnic table and got bitten by a cat that didn’t want to be touched. She didn’t cry, though. Just sat there, hand pressed to her other bitten hand.

She had a Hello Kitty bag that day, full of nothing useful—stickers, crayons, a couple of mints she wasn’t supposed to eat—but she did have a Band-Aid. She remembers holding it in her hand, about to walk toward the kid.

And then the rain came down like the sky had decided to interfere, and Minji’s mom pulled her back toward the car, and the Band-Aid never made it past her fist.

She remembered watching through the foggy car window as the girl sat under the slide, ankle swelling, rain soaking the top of her head like she didn’t even notice.

And she remembered how, even then, she thought—I want to be like her.

The kid with the brave face and the quiet mouth and the line of medals that came later. Hanni clapped from her seat while you stood on the stage. 

And then one day, she was gone. Disappeared between semesters like the girl were never there to begin with.

She remembered checking the park that summer. Looking for something familiar. But all she found was an orange cat curled up in the tunnel. Waiting, like it had been left behind, too.

Waiting for what?

She still didn’t know.

Like how she didn’t know whether to risk it.

Fine.

She’ll go to the stupid party.

---------------

a/n: if you made it to the end—WOWWIEE. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING I LOVE YOU. LET’S KISS.

alsooo if you’ve seen any of my unfinished series or smau lurking around… pls be fr… what do you wanna see continued 😭🙏 drop it in the replies or inbox pls i am weak for feedback ily fr tee hee

10 likes and i wont do my school works

taglist: @keiji-jin @strangercat @hazel-tanthamore22 @yjiminswallet @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @Mj.Db @frankzz9 @hydrardz @arihiu @jkwsel @saysirhc @somedaydream @peranoo @syronns @angiisss @nnewjeansstuff @nishi-riki @imsogay504 @wintersgff @sh1ba100 @tashasmywife @Takuhg @groundedfr @wanderer.inc

[theloveinc]

More professor drama? 👀

yes. and boy did it break. my. heart :) ...

I'm in a math class, right? And it's catered towards non-majors who're just looking to fulfill a specific credit so we don't have to pay to test out. and i'm HELLA bad at math but i really enjoy this class b/c the teacher and TA are so helpful and kind and i'm actually learning etc. etc.

anyway, out of the blue my counselor (who is unrelated to math AT ALL) reaches out to schedule a reflection on the class with the head of my grad department (and would not tell me why)... only to postpone the meeting for two weeks, and THEN TELL ME I'VE BEEN BEHAVING POORLY IN MY CLASS???? not grades related, BEHAVIOR RELATED.

and so i'm fucking like, stunned and confused, i keep asking what i've done, why isn't the actually prof. talking to me, what i need to do, etc. and no one tells me shit until i'm literally SOBBING on this zoom meeting because apparently i'm being punished??

and finally i guess i cry hard enough for them to believe it was all unintentional and i DON'T know what they're talking about, and they fucking. tell me that i've been asking "too many questions" such that the whole class is distracted AND that i've been refusing to work with the TA (which isn't even true?????) ...

which is ridiculous bc the professor himself has NEVER mentioned to me that i ask for help too much, and i've been working with the TA since the beginning of the class???????

so i'm completely fucking blindsided by this bc i genuinely. LOVED. this class, so to find out I'VE BEEN A PROBLEM IS REALLY DEVASTATING.

and i go to email my teacher and ta apologies, just reflecting on like, how sorry i am my behavior came across so poorly and etc. AND ESSENTIALLY THEY JUST CONFIRM THAT I WAS A HUGE PAIN IN THE ASS. like my profs response, deadass, is "how classy of you to parlay.." LIKE WTF?????

and this whole. fucking time. i genuinely had absolutely no clue. NONE.

[ot3]

isn't it interesting how infrequently covid comes up in discussions about the current generation of college students' work habits? pretty much everyone in the current crop of undergraduates was in high school during the quarantine and i can think of few things that would be as academically disillusioning in your formative years and set you up worse to continue your education.

you get ripped out of school at a critical point in your life because hundreds of thousands of people are dying all over the planet, are then left to try and tread water in your studies with the absolute bare minimum structural support, and are then subsequently forced to return with almost nothing to bridge that gap and the underlying knowledge that it actually may not even be safe for you to be attending class. and yet you're expected to just proceed as normal! and thats on top of all of the ways being a high schooler is already brutal and miserable. it is hard to imagine that would not have a significant

the post that prompted me to make this was going on an absolute tirade calling these kids stupid and lazy and accusing them of rotting their own brains with tiktok. they said one kid should be beaten with a bat. obviously i don't think that's an actionable threat im not trying to say theyre genuinely advocating violence against chatgpt users. but what they were genuinely advocating for was a return to analog schooling; no computers are phones in classes, all assignments handwritten. i'm against this for a myriad of accessibility reasons, but moreso than that, i just can not take any proposed solutions in good faith from people who are writing about the people they purportedly want to help with that much spite. i don't believe you actually want to empower people to learn i think you want to punish people for not learning and those are two completely different things.

man. school is fucking hard and like it or not a lot of people ARE there because they need to become employable, not because they want to be doing this. and it's not their fault things are set up in a way that often necessitates taking this path for even a modicum of financial security. i'm not really interested in any discussions of higher ed that are not even capable of extending an ounce of sympathy to those students too.

[ji-lixie]

im not saying a hug from cheol would fix me or my problems but i think itd heal me in some way

[neeeooon]

i think otoya is the kind of person who is aware that he is capable of changing his ways with girls when he finds the “one”, but he’s never truly believed in that. but when when like a girl transfers it’s quite literally love at first sight and he wants to change for her. you can decide whether she gets with him or not, thanks so muchh !! ^^

aww yes i love this idea tysm!!

love of my dreams

otoya eita x fem!reader. ft. karasu and yukimiya. love at first sight. fluff, crack, otoya is a bit weird at the start, cussing, slight death/kms joke at the end. wc: 810

“fuck.”

otoya just told karasu and yukimiya how much he liked his bachelor life. how he wasn’t ready to change. to settle down.

and then you just had to walk through those damn doors.

“fuck.”

you had a guide at your side, telling otoya you were a transfer student. his eyes were glued on you, and every step you took, unable to tear his gaze away. he wanted to know your name, where you transferred from, and what you were studying. probably something similar to him, as you were being toured through his building.

a sharp jab caused him to curse again, and otoya shot a glare at karasu and the cheap plastic butter knife he’d been stabbed with. “yer staring.”

“of course i’m staring. i’m in love.”

“you don’t do love,” yukimiya chimed with a snicker before shoving a forkful of salad into his mouth. “that’s your whole thing.”

otoya didn’t want it to be his whole thing anymore—not after seeing you.

he continued to think about you through the rest of his lunch, then his classes, his drive home, and even while he was texting yukimiya for answers to their finance homework. he didn't believe in love at first sight, at least he didn't think he did. you changed that so quick, otoya was still reeling six hours later.

otoya: i need her number

otoya: pls be my spies pls pls pls

karasu: i never thought i'd see down bad otoya like for real and not just to get pussy

otoya: is that a yes

karasu: for all we know she has a boyfriend

yukimiya: or a girlfriend

otoya: GODDDD IM GOING INSANE I NEED HER SO BAD

otoya: she's the one for me. i'm done. no more playboy otoya.

yukimiya: if you're serious. REALLY SERIOUS. i'll help

karasu: same ig

otoya: there's a special place in blowjob heaven for you two 🙏

and two days later, with the help of yukimiya and karasu, otoya had intel. they also told him you had a gap in your schedule and ate lunch by yourself in the dining hall.

and when otoya saw you? he was nervous.

your hair was pulled away from your face, the eraser-end of your pencil tapping your lips as you concentrated so hard on your homework that a delicate crease formed between your brows. otoya wanted to smooth it out with his thumb and kiss the spot instead.

shaking his head, his grip tightened around his sandwich as he slowly approached you. when you looked up, otoya felt his face grow hot. "sorry to bother you. is this seat taken?"

you rapidly shook your head and gestured to the chair. "no, no, you can take it! just make sure you put it back—"

"i mean, is it okay if i sit here?" he quickly cut off with a small grin, his chest fluttering when you blushed in embarrassment.

you dropped your pencil to hide your face in your hands. "oh my god, i'm so... yeah, yes, you can sit here." shaking your hands out to release some of the stress, you flashed a bright smile. "i'm y/n."

“otoya,” he greeted casually, as if a flock of butterflies didn’t make a home in his stomach.

you repeated his name quietly to yourself before nodding. “i think i’ve seen you in this building before. what are you majoring in?”

when he told you, your eyes lit up so brightly that otoya swore they glittered. “no way! me too! weird that we don’t have any classes together, though. maybe next semester!”

the rest of the time spent before your next class was filled with the two of you talking. otoya thought he'd fail at the genuine small talk thing since he didn't want to use any of his usual lines on you, but he was surprised at how easy it was. whenever he got quiet, you were right there to pick up where he left off.

"this might be too soon," otoya started as he walked you to your class. "but would you want to hang out again tomorrow?"

your smile faltered slightly, and otoya was ready to jump over the rail and fall to the first floor. it wasn't too far down, so he probably wouldn't die, but if he hobbled in front of a truck right after—

"i don't have this class tomorrow," you explained gently. "but would thursday work instead?"

fireworks exploded behind otoya's eyes, along with the relief of no longer needing to die. he readjusted his grip on his bag strap and flashed you a slow grin. "thursday works. same spot as today?"

you beamed. "yep! oh, and here's my number, in case i'm late or we have to reschedule!"

otoya knew, as you entered your name into his phone with a cute emoji, that he would eventually die a happy man.

[luvst4rc0r3]

"The Unexpected Couple"

Loser!Jinx x Reader

Nobody saw it coming. Nobody.

It was like one day, Jinx was just the chaotic loser that everyone tolerated at best—and the next? She was dating you. You. The person everyone actually liked, the one who had their life together, the one who could walk into a room and make people listen.

People thought it was a joke at first. A prank. Some kind of elaborate bet. But then they saw the way Jinx looked at you—like you were the sun and she was just some dumb little planet orbiting around you, completely at your mercy.

And the way you looked at her? Yeah. You were just as gone.

People’s Reactions:

Vi:

“Are you being blackmailed? Blink twice if you need help.”

She genuinely cannot wrap her head around it. Jinx, her loser little sister, who once ate an entire bag of uncooked pasta for fun, is somehow dating you? She thought it was fake until she saw you casually kiss Jinx on the cheek one day.

She short-circuited. Nearly dropped her protein shake. Stared at Jinx for a solid ten seconds before going,

“WHAT. THE. HELL.”

Sevika:

Doesn’t care much, but when she sees you cuddling up to Jinx at lunch, she just takes a long sip of her drink and mutters,

“This timeline is broken.”

Your Friends:

“Be honest. Did you lose a bet?”

“Are you okay? Like… mentally?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LIKE HER?”

It’s not that they hate Jinx—it’s just that she’s Jinx. She forgets homework exists and once tried to teach a pigeon how to skateboard.

You just laugh and say, “Yeah, but she’s my idiot.”

And then Jinx, who overheard the whole thing, proceeds to melt into a puddle of emotions.

 Your Teachers:

Your math teacher literally pulled you aside one day like,

“You’re such a bright student. Don’t let… distractions ruin your potential.”

Meanwhile, Jinx is in the background, chewing on a pen, 100% unaware that she’s the distraction in question.

Your Relationship in School:

PDA? Oh yeah. Jinx never cared about being subtle in the first place, but now that she has you? She’s insufferable. Walks you to class even though she’s late for her own. Steals your hoodies and wears them oversized because, “They smell like you.” Leaves dumb doodles in your notebooks (half of them are just little hearts with your name in them). Jinx is constantly showing off. And by “showing off,” I mean doing the dumbest, most reckless stunts imaginable. If there’s a terrible idea, she’s already doing it before you can stop her.

Jinx: “Bet I can jump from this stairwell and land perfectly.”

You: “Jinx, no—”

Jinx: [proceeds to fall flat on her face]

You: “Oh my god.”

And yet, you’re always the first one helping her up, laughing as you brush off the dirt from her hoodie.

She falls harder every time.

She thrives off making you blush. For someone who is usually a mess, Jinx is unexpectedly bold when it comes to flirting.

One day, you’re minding your own business when she leans in and whispers, “You look really good today.”

You turn red. She grins like she just won the lottery.

“I make you nervous, don’t I?”

She does. She really, really does.

Nobody gets how you put up with her. She’s always late, never does her homework, and is basically a human raccoon. But when she falls asleep in your lap during study hall, drooling on your sweater, you just shake your head and pull her closer.

Because yeah, she’s a disaster. But she’s your disaster.

MAN IM JUST TRYING TO LOAD ALL OF MY DRAFTS

I want food and sleep

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James’s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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[tainsan]

opposites attract.

↳synopsis: you are on the verge of being expelled, so your teacher helps you find a tutor, yet what you weren't expecting was much more than just tutoring sessions.

↳ word count: 14.3k

↳ a/n: i know this isnt misfits or misfits related but i wanted to give you guys something whilst you wait for the next chapter. i havent been active due to a majot burnout, but im getting into the swing of it again. I hope you enjoy this one shot whilst you wait for the next chapter <3

↳ warnings: fem bodied reader, mentions of alcohol, explicit smut, fingering, oral (f rec), unprotected sex (wrap it pls), gn pronouns but Yunho calls reader a good girl.

MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT AHEAD

"Expelled, what do you mean?" you exclaim, the words of your professor hitting you like a sudden, unwelcome storm.

Your professor leans forward, her expression grave. "If you don’t make a change," she replies, her tone weighted with concern. "Your recent academic performance has been far from ideal, and it's no secret that you'd rather be out partying and socialising than studying. I've tried to advocate for you for the past few months, but even the student council is beginning to lose faith. You need to make a change, or else they will remove you from this program."

The news leaves you feeling torn. You have always been drawn to the vibrant social scene on campus, and it was no secret that you enjoy a good party. Balancing your studies with your social life has been a constant struggle, and it has finally caught up with you in the form of this dire warning.

Taking a deep breath, you try to gather your thoughts, your mind a whirlwind of confusion. "I don't know what to do, though," you admit, your voice tinged with both desperation and uncertainty.

Professor Turner fixes her gaze on you, her expression stern yet caring. Her half-moon glasses perch on the edge of her nose lends an air of wisdom to her appearance. She had always been one of the few teachers who genuinely believed in your potential, even if you hadn't quite lived up to it yet. 

She leans forward slightly, her eyes locked on yours. "You can start by addressing that persistent partying issue," she says, her tone deadpan but not without a hint of exasperation. "I've always seen your talent, but it's time for you to believe in it too. My patience for you is wearing thin, and the threat of expulsion is very real. You need to get your studies together, and fast."

Her words strike a chord, and bow your head down, tears starting to form in your eyes. The urgency of the situation finally sinks in, and you know it is time to make a change. 

Professor Turner's expression softens, and she leans back in her chair, understanding the turmoil in your eyes. "I know it can be challenging to balance both, but it's essential. Perhaps you can establish a more structured study schedule and limit your social activities during the week.”

Looking up at her, you notice the warmth and unwavering belief in her eyes, which provides a glimmer of hope amidst your uncertainty. 

She continues, "In fact, I found a tutor for you. Someone had to cancel on him at the last minute, and he's willing to take you on until your grades improve. He’s an incredibly sweet person, his grades are the best in my class."

Although you would rather avoid any study sessions or anything to do with your university academics, you reluctantly take the paper showcasing the number of the tutor your professor found for you. The paper displays the name "Jeong Yunho" along with his contact number. You have never heard of him before, which was unusual considering you considered yourself as a social butterfly who knew nearly everyone on campus. It occurred to you that there truly was a first time for everything.

As you held the paper, a sense of curiosity overcame your reluctance. You pondered the mystery behind this unknown tutor and wondered what kind of person Jeong Yunho was. 

—

Clutching your bag tightly under your arm, you reluctantly made your way towards the library on a Friday evening. With every step, you grumbled to yourself, yearning to be at a lively party instead, drowning your sorrows about the looming threat of expulsion. The future seemed bleak, and hope was a distant memory. When you left Professor Turner's office earlier, you almost crumpled the paper she had given you, fully intent on disregarding any contact with whoever the hell Yunho is.

The journey to the library is slow, partly because you have never set foot in the place before, and partly due to your resistance against the impending academic endeavour. You had never planned on being a library regular; it wasn't part of your college vision. Yet, the harsh reality of the potential consequences weigh heavily on your mind. Losing your education at this point would not only set you back years but also jeopardise all the hard work you have invested to even make it to this esteemed school in the first place.

With every reluctant step, you can’t help but reflect on the choices that have led you here. It was time to face the music, find this enigmatic Yunho, and see if, against all odds, he held the key to salvaging your academic future. 

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors of the university library, you're immediately greeted by the familiar scent of aged books and hushed whispers. The soft lighting casts a warm glow over the rows of shelves filled with knowledge, and you can't help but feel out of place in this quiet atmosphere. You've rarely ventured into this sanctuary of academia, and your lack of familiarity is evident as you scan the cavernous space, unsure of where to start

Stepping further into the library, your frustration and reluctance grow. You have little idea of who you're even looking for. The notion that Yunho might be some stereotypical "nerd-looking" guy briefly crosses your mind, and you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt for the shallow assumption.

After several minutes of wandering the labyrinthine aisles, you find yourself standing in the centre of the library, defeated and ready to give up on this wild goose chase. You can't even muster the energy to be disappointed; you're too focused on your own internal battle between academic responsibilities and your desire for the social scene.

Just as you turn to head for the exit, your hasty retreat is halted by an unexpected and rather forceful collision. You practically bump into a broad, solid chest that seemingly appears out of nowhere. Startled, you stagger back a step, nearly dropping the papers that you have clenched in your hand.

Looking up, you're met with the sight of a tall man, much taller than you. The first thing you notice is his thick black-framed glasses perched on his nose, giving him a rather studious appearance. However, his eyes sparkle with warmth and curiosity, and his friendly, wide smile catches you off guard.

"I'm sorry," you stammer, feeling flustered by the unexpected encounter.

The man's voice is deep and soothing and light-hearted as he replies, "No need to apologise. Are you looking for someone, or can I help you find a book or something?"

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should reveal your purpose in the library. But the kindness in his eyes and the genuine desire to assist make you decide to share. "Actually, I'm trying to find someone named Yunho. I was told he could help me with my studies."

His smile widens, his eyes scrunching in the process, and he extends a hand in greeting. "Yunho, at your service. It's nice to meet you."

You shake his hand, feeling a mix of surprise and relief. Yunho is not what you had expected, and the moment you assumed he'd be a stereotypical "nerd" is now a distant memory. As you look into his friendly eyes, a sense of hope and optimism begins to replace the frustration and doubt that had plagued you earlier.

"You're Yunho?" you ask, a hint of surprise in your voice, as he begins to lead you towards where it appears he was sitting.

"Yes, is it hard to believe?" Yunho responds, a slight nervousness in his tone. "I can get my ID out if you're sceptical." He quickly reaches into his pocket, his ears turning a shade of red as he rushes to grab his ID.

Hastily, you halt him, not wanting to put him through the trouble of proving his identity. Silently, you smile to yourself, he is sweet.

You and Yunho take a seat at a quiet corner table within the library, and you find yourself fidgeting with unease in your chair. Yunho, observant of your discomfort, wisely refrains from commenting, valuing your need for privacy.

"Alright," Yunho began, adjusting his glasses with a hint of nervousness in his demeanour. He reaches into his bag, carefully pulling out two well-worn textbooks and a stack of papers, placing them on the table in front of you. 

"I wasn't entirely sure which topics you needed help with, so I brought materials for all five modules you're studying this semester."

You examine the books, their covers showing the marks of countless readers who had delved into their pages. 

"Are these your books?" you inquire, surprised by the thoughtfulness he has put into his preparation.

Yunho shakes his head, his cheeks flushing slightly as he admits, "No, I borrowed them from the library. Microbiology isn't my field of study."

Your disbelief is evident as you fix your gaze on him. The rosy hue on his cheeks deepens as he fiddles with the sleeves of his oversized sweater and adjusts his glasses nervously. "You don't study microbiology?" you ask, genuinely surprised.

"No," Yunho confesses, his embarrassment now fully on display. "I just study it as a hobby."

You can’t help but be impressed by his dedication and the sheer audacity of teaching a subject purely out of passion. 

"That's impressive," you state. You were well aware that to tutor a subject officially, one typically needed to pass a test administered by the school, certifying one's proficiency. The fact that Yunho was willing to help without any formal obligation was both admirable and unexpected.

Curiosity gets the better of you, you inquire, "What else do you tutor?"

Yunho hesitates for a moment, his fingers still absently adjusting his glasses. "Um, history, algebra, and applied sciences," he finally reveals, his modesty and shyness contrasting with his evident knowledge.

As you listened to him speak, you found yourself captivated not only by his academic prowess but also by the way he wore his thick glasses and his endearing shyness. Yunho was turning out to be a surprising and impressive individual, and you couldn't help but feel a growing fascination with the person who had just entered your academic world.

“So how much do you know about Microbiology?” Yunho questions, thinning through some of the papers in front of him.

“Uh, the basics I guess.” you mumble, your knowledge not the best seeing as you have missed many lectures the past few months.

Yunho's gaze meets yours, and you sense him observing your unease as his eyes traverse your form. 

With a soft tone, he reassures you, "it’s okay, you can be honest. I'm here to help you, so you have to be honest. Then I can help you in the best way possible.” 

For a fleeting moment, his words touch your heart, a warmth spreading within. Yet, you quickly suppress the feeling, reminding yourself that there is no time for such emotions in your busy life.

“I’ve forgotten a lot, to be honest.” 

“That’s okay, we will start with the basics today, to refresh your memory.” 

Under the soft glow of the study lamps in your cosy corner of the library, Yunho begins to unravel the basics. The excitement in his eyes was unmistakable, his passion for the subject evident with every word he spoke.

"Alright," he begins, tracing his finger along the pages filled with complex diagrams and scientific jargon. "As you likely already know, microbiology is the study of tiny organisms, like bacteria, viruses, and fungi. These microorganisms are everywhere, and they play a crucial role in our lives, from the food we eat to the diseases we encounter."

Yunho's explanation is clear and concise, making sure to break down complex ideas into easily digestible pieces. 

He continues, "Uhh, the basics: the three main types of microorganisms. First, there are bacteria. They're single-celled organisms that can be both good and bad. Some bacteria help with digestion in your gut, while others can cause diseases."

You nod along, your memory starting to be refreshed. Yunho's enthusiasm is contagious, and you find yourself getting more and more interested in the subject.

He flips to a page with colourful illustrations of various microorganisms. "Then there are viruses, which are even smaller than bacteria. They're not considered living because they can't reproduce on their own. Instead, they need a host cell to replicate. Viruses are responsible for many illnesses, like the flu or COVID."

You absorb the information, appreciating how Yunho made the complex concept of viruses relatable. "And the third type?" you prompt.

"Ah, fungi," Yunho smiles. "Fungi are more complex microorganisms. They can be beneficial, like the yeast used in baking bread, or harmful, causing infections like athlete's foot. They're known for their unique cell structure and reproduction methods."

Whilst he explains, he encourages you to ask questions, making sure you are following along. The library's serene ambiance, coupled with Yunho's patient teaching, created a comfortable learning atmosphere. He didn't rush, taking his time to make sure you grasped each concept before moving on.

He continued to cover the basics of microbiology, including the significance of studying these microorganisms, their role in medicine, agriculture, and environmental science. Yunho's passion for the subject was evident in the way he animatedly discussed the various branches of microbiology, from medical microbiology to environmental microbiology, each with its unique focus and importance.

In the quiet of the library, during this unexpected first study session, you find yourself lost in thought. This wasn't how you had imagined it would go, and you can’t help but be impressed and thankful for Yunho's extraordinary patience and intelligence. 

You had initially expected a conventional tutoring experience, but Yunho has proven to be so much more. His explanations were crystal clear, his passion for the subject contagious, and his willingness to help you with genuine enthusiasm is striking. He isn’t just a smart individual; he is a rare combination of intelligence and empathy.

You marvel at the fact that he wasn't the stereotypical snobby, know-it-all type who might look down on your abilities. Instead, Yunho is an embodiment of understanding and non-judgment. As he continues to make the complex subject of microbiology comprehensible, you can’t help but feel immense gratitude.

The study session with Yunho nears its end and you find yourself in a much different frame of mind than when you had started. Initially apprehensive about having a tutor, you have been pleasantly surprised by the experience. Your worries have somewhat melted away, replaced by a growing sense of confidence and gratitude.

Yunho, having covered a significant portion of the microbiology basics, closes the textbook with a satisfied smile. "I think we've made some good progress today," he says. "But there is still a lot we have to cover before exams next month. I expect to see you every Wednesday and Friday until then." Yunho attempts a stern voice, jokingly pointing his finger at you.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Yes sir.” you salute him, acting back on his funny actions. 

Gathering your belongings, you prepare to leave the library, yet Yunho surprises you with a genuine offer. 

"If you ever have questions or need further assistance, don't hesitate to reach out. I'm here to help, and I enjoy teaching. We can meet on more days if you need."

You smile at the sincerity in his voice, “that’s okay, Yunho.” you say before turning towards the exit.

Walking out of the library, a lightness seems to settle upon your chest, replacing the initial apprehension with a sense of accomplishment. Glancing at your phone, you note that it is only ten in the evening. This realisation fills you with a newfound sense of freedom and opportunity.

With a contented smile, you contemplate the evening unfolding before you. The memory of the house party, just a short walk down the road, initially seemed distant due to your earlier commitment to the study session with Yunho. Despite knowing that you should be heading home to review your notes, a mischievous thought crept into your mind – what Yunho didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

A sly smirk plays on your lips as you begin to make your way toward the house party. You can’t deny the allure of a night filled with fun and perhaps a little indulgence. Yet, as you take your first steps, a fleeting moment of hesitation overcomes you. You pause, reflecting on the considerable effort Yunho had put into helping you today.

It is a big realisation. Few, if any, have ever invested so much time and effort in your growth and success. Your heart warms for a brief second at the thought, but just as quickly, you push aside those emotions. You have your reasons – a past that still haunted you, and the fear of getting your heart broken once more. You can’t afford to be vulnerable.

Despite your better judgement, you continue your journey to the house party, determined to enjoy the night to the fullest. 

Unbeknownst to you, though, Yunho's presence would linger in your thoughts throughout the night.

—

Several weeks have passed since the start of your study sessions with Yunho, and it has been quite the transformative period. Initially, you had been reluctant to engage in any additional study outside of your scheduled sessions with him. But over time, Yunho's presence had become a reassuring constant in your life, offering a sense of peace and support that you couldn't quite admit to yourself.

During the past couple of weeks, you found yourself increasingly immersed in your books and studies, even sometimes choosing academic pursuits over the lively parties that your large, party-loving friend group frequented. 

The shift in your priorities had not gone unnoticed by your friends, who seemed disheartened by your withdrawal from their activities. A residue of guilt clings to you every time you opted to hit the books rather than attend a party. Your ‘friends’ have grown vocal about it, casting you as a bore and a waste of time, berating you for supposedly losing your popularity.

Amid this turmoil, your study sessions with Yunho had become a sanctuary, a refuge from the social pressure and expectations. What you didn't fully realise was the profound positive impact these sessions were having on you, not just academically but also in terms of your personal growth.

Just a few days ago, you faced your first exam since you had started your sessions with Yunho and today you are receiving the results. You are well aware that if you do not pass this, it is not a huge deal seeing as it is not a final exam. Yet you do need to prove yourself to the student council by at least getting a D. 

The anticipation is palpable in Professor Turner's classroom, the air thick with nervous energy. She stands at the front of the room, clutching a stack of papers that hold the results of the previous week's exam. Your heart races as you sit there, your anxiety mounting with each passing moment.

Whilst Professor Turner begins to distribute the grades, your palms grow clammy, and your heart races even faster. 

As Professor Turner finally reaches your desk, she hands you the paper with a warm smile that holds an underlying pride. In the corner of the sheet, a vibrant red 'C' was marked. It isn’t the highest grade in the class, but at this moment, it feels like a monumental achievement.

A sense of accomplishment washes over you like a warm wave, as you realise that all the effort, Yunho's unwavering support, and Professor Turner's belief in you is beginning to pay off. 

You cannot wait to let Yunho know about the news.

The campus courtyard was alive with activity as students milled about, enjoying the pleasant weather and the break from their studies. Among the various clusters of friends, you spot Yunho, standing with a small group of his own. His friends seem to be engaged in an animated conversation, their voices and laughter filling the air. 

You observe Yunho for a brief moment, his expression appearing neutral as he attentively listens to his friend's conversation. Your gaze then drifts down to the sight of Yunho pulling up the sleeves of his knitted sweater, revealing his unexpectedly well-defined forearms. The contrast between his baggy clothing and his toned physique momentarily catches you off guard.

But as you approach, your excitement is impossible to contain, the momentary thought of how toned Yunho is elsewhere leaves your mind. Your heart races, and you feel a surge of joy within you. The sense of accomplishment overwhelms you, and you can’t wait to share the news with Yunho, regardless of the audience.

Without hesitation, you stride purposefully toward him, determination etched across your face. The moment you reach him, you suddenly feel a little small under the eyes of his friends who seem to have noticed you approaching.

“Yunho,” you say gently, attempting to get his attention.

Yunho turns around, surprised to see you talking to him outside of your study sessions.

“Hey, what’s up?” Yunho questions, his attention fully on you as he forgets his friends existence.

“I passed the exam,” you beam, “well barely it was only a C.”

Yunho’s eyes widen as his face breaks into a bright, genuine smile. His eyes, behind his thick glasses, now sparkle with delight. 

"That's amazing! I knew you could do it!" he exclaims, his enthusiasm matching yours.

His friends can’t resist exchanging glances among themselves, finding it rather peculiar to witness your conversation with Yunho. After all, you are a highly popular figure in their school, while Yunho remains a reserved and relatively unknown individual.

The smile of pride that graces Yunho's face stirs a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, a sensation that has become increasingly common in recent times. Yet, you can't quite bring yourself to acknowledge the feeling, even to yourself.

Yunho's hand rises with a touch of hesitation before gently resting on the top of your head, playfully ruffling your hair to convey a silent 'good job.' Your entire face warms at the simple gesture, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

"Now, it's time to focus on those major tests, okay?" Yunho exclaims, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he makes an effort to infuse you with the same excitement.

"Yes, sir," you respond with a playful salute, evoking a chuckle from his lips. Saluting Yunho has become somewhat of a habit, and he finds it endearing every time you do it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” 

You offer a nod, a warm smile gracing your face as you wave and bid farewell to Yunho and his friends.

Walking away, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for Yunho's unwavering support, not just as a tutor but as a friend who is being a great help in your journey toward success. 

His encouragement had been a driving force in your recent accomplishments, and you couldn't have been happier to share this victory with him and his friends in the vibrant courtyard, a testament to the bonds forged through your academic pursuits.

As you depart, Yunho's gaze lingers on your retreating figure, a faint smile gracing his lips as he replays the conversation in his mind. The moment you vanish from his sight, his friends swivel toward him, their faces etched with bewilderment and curiosity.

"When you mentioned you were tutoring someone, you didn't say it was them?" Wooyoung exclaims, genuine confusion stemming from the exchange they just witnessed.

Yunho, momentarily caught off guard by their reactions, inquires, "What do you mean?" He shifts his attention toward the group, ready to address their inquiries.

"Dude, she's the most popular person in this school; you don't just get to talk to them," San chimes in, his astonishment mirroring Wooyoung's.

Yunho, however, didn't buy into the notion of social hierarchies. He pokes San in the forehead, responding, "We're not in high school anymore, and there's no such thing as popular girls and guys."

Wooyoung's expression softens as he mulls over your interaction. "And they were so nice," he continues, noting Yunho's reaction. "I didn't expect someone with their status to be so nice."

Yunho's annoyance flares at the stereotype implied in Wooyoung's words, his brow furrowing. "Don't hold such stereotypes," he chastises his friend. "They... they are the sweetest person I know."

San's eyes widen as he glances at Yunho, connecting the dots. "Holy moly," he exclaims. "You like them, don't you?"

Yunho scrambles to hush him up, his cheeks flushing. "Shut up," he grumbles, though the embarrassment in his voice hints at a deeper truth.

—

“Ugh, I’m never going to pass this test,” you groan as you throw your head into your hands, frustration emitting from your every fibre.

"Come on, don't be so pessimistic. You've got this, and I believe in you," Yunho exclaims, his warm smile casting a ray of encouragement over the room. He watches as you succumb to a hissy fit, a mix of frustration and self-doubt, a smile covering his features at your actions.

"You always say that, but this time I am doomed," you groan, your voice muffled by your hands as you bury your face in them.

Gently, Yunho reaches out and takes your hands, coaxing them away from your face. The contact sends a brief tremor through your heart, and you can’t help but notice the warmth of his touch.

"You can do it; you're the smartest person I know," Yunho says softly, locking his eyes with yours. His words catch you off guard, and you look at him, a puzzled expression furrowing your brow. 

"I'm not smart; if I were, I wouldn't need a tutor," you state flatly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone, which elicits a chuckle from Yunho.

"I'd be an idiot not to see your potential. I just think you had your priorities muddled when you first came here," he remarks.

Curious, you probe further. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's no secret you enjoy a party," Yunho replies.

"No, before that."

"Oh," Yunho responds, and he continues, seemingly on a roll, "Well, I'd have to be blind not to see how smart you actually are. You're very capable of applying knowledge and solving problems. You have an excellent memory; most of the time, I only have to explain something once, and you've already processed it and applied it. It's very impressive. You're incredibly talented too. I see all the drawings you do in your book when you’re bored."

Yunho continues his praise, yet he is unaware of the emotions that well up within you. When he eventually glances in your direction, he is taken aback to find your eyes glistening with tears and a smile gracing your face.

"Did I say something wrong? I'm so sorry if it wasn't my intention," he inquires quickly, a sense of concern crossing his features as he worries he may have inadvertently hurt your feelings.

You shake your head and wipe away a tear, still smiling. "No, Yunho. It's just... no one really sees me like that anymore."

Now Yunho is confused for a different reason. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, most people see me as the 'popular girl' or 'the life of the party.' I don't know. It's nice to be seen as something other than the stereotype.”

"I know what you mean," Yunho says, his hand ruffling his hair as his cheeks turn a faint shade of red.

"What do you mean?" you ask, intrigued by his response.

"Well, I'm usually seen as a nerd or a loner. People only talk to me when they need help with assignments or answers for exams. It was nice at first, feeling needed, but now it just feels like I'm being used in a way. I only have two friends, and they spend more time with each other than they do with me." Yunho admits, his gaze drifting down to his fingers, where he idly picks at a piece of dead skin on his nail.

"I know it's weird coming from me since you're literally my tutor, but I don't think your intelligence defines you," You begin, causing Yunho to look up at you with a puzzled expression, waiting for you to elaborate.

You continue, your words flowing with sincerity, "You're a sweetheart, Yunho. I see you helping people, not because you have to, but because you genuinely enjoy it. You're kind, a gentleman, and incredibly thoughtful. Your sense of humour is beyond anyone I've ever met before; it's refreshing to talk to someone whose humour isn't just 'your momma' jokes or making others look bad to get a laugh."

Yunho furrows his eyebrows, taking in your words, his expression almost studying them.

"Plus," you add, a warm smile gracing your face, "whether you like it or not, I consider you my friend."

—

The evening sun casts a warm glow over the campus as you join your friend group in the bustling cafeteria. Laughter and chatter filled the air as you settled in with them at your usual table. The topic of conversation quickly turns to the party happening later in the night, an event that has become increasingly rare for you to attend. The thought of partying when there was a crucial final exam on the horizon weighs heavily on your mind.

"Hey, you are coming to the party tonight, right?" your friend asks, a glimmer of anticipation in their eyes.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing what your priorities were. "I wish I could, but I really need to study for the final exam," you explain.

Immediately, your friends' expressions grow sour, and they exchange incredulous glances. "Again? You're always studying or making excuses. It's like you're avoiding us," one of them remarks, frustration creeping into their tone.

Their words sting, and you feel the pressure of their expectations bearing down on you. "I'm not avoiding anyone; I just have to prioritise my studies, you guys know I might get expelled." you insist, your voice wavering slightly as you try to maintain your composure.

But your friends aren’t satisfied with your explanation. 

"You never come to parties anymore. You're turning into a loser nerd, just like that loner Yunho," another friend declares with a snide tone, and the others chime in agreement, chuckles leaving their mouths.

The words strike a nerve, and you can’t hold back any longer. How dare they insult Yunho, who has been there for you during your toughest times of studying? The anger that has been building up inside you erupts.

"Yunho is not a loser," you snap, your voice filled with indignation. "He's been more of a friend to me than any of you. If you can't understand the importance of my studies and support me, then I don't need ‘friends’ like you."

At that moment, you make a decision. These friends are just immature individuals who only care about getting drunk and partying. They value popularity and shallow connections over your well-being and academic success. You have had enough of pretending to be something you weren't just to fit in.

"I don't care about popularity if it means I have to be fake and have fake-ass friends," you exclaim. With that, you push your chair back and leave the table, leaving your former friends behind, realising that true friendship means understanding and respecting your priorities, not forcing you to compromise your goals.

Walking away from the cafeteria, you feel a mix of anger, relief, and sadness. It was painful to let go of friendships that had once meant so much to you, but you knew that your academic journey is more important than trying to fit into a mould that didn't truly represent who you were.

Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t prevent them from spilling over as you stand just outside the school gates. You pay no mind to the curious glances of onlookers, for your emotions are too overwhelming to be hidden. You aren’t entirely certain if these tears are born of sadness, frustration, or a turbulent mix of both.

Without even thinking, you pull out your phone and dial Yunho’s number. You are not sure if you want to be alone tonight, yet you definitely do not want to go to a party. The only person you know will be available is Yunho. Maybe you can have an extra study session tonight.

It takes the phone only five seconds before Yunho picks up, his voice bright as he greets you.

"Hey, Yunho," you begin, attempting to maintain a sense of composure, but the tremor in your voice reveals your unease.

Yunho's keen ear picks up on the shakiness in your tone, and concern washes over him as he responds with a soft, soothing voice, "What's wrong?"

You sniffle, trying to brush off the emotions threatening to overcome you. "Nothing, it's nothing," you reply, your voice still carrying the traces of distress. "Are you free to study? I don't have anything to do, and I need to go over a few things."

Yunho is aware that a big party is scheduled for tonight, information he had gathered from Wooyoung, who also enjoys such gatherings. He finds it puzzling that you, too, had initially expressed an interest in attending the event, but he refrained from voicing his curiosity.

"I am free, but the library is closed today, and the school is closing soon too," Yunho explains, an idea begins to take root in his mind, and he hesitates before asking, "You could come to my place?"

The offer hangs in the air for a moment, full of unspoken implications. Yunho's excitement about the prospect of having you over is palpable, yet he tries to maintain his composure. He knows that his place will offer a quiet environment for studying.

The offer hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, you hesitate. You are well aware that accepting Yunho's invitation would signify a slight shift in your academic tutor relationship. The unspoken implications dance in the silence between you.

Yunho, on the other hand, finds his nervousness manifesting in the way he chews the inside of his cheek. His heart races as he awaits your response, unsure of how you would react to his proposition.

Despite your initial reservations, you can’t seem to bring yourself to decline his offer. The warmth and genuine concern that Yunho has consistently shown makes you feel safe and comfortable around him, and you find it difficult to resist the idea of studying in his presence, even if it means stepping slightly outside the boundaries of your tutor-student dynamic.

“What’s your address?” 

Making your way to Yunho's apartment, the anticipation of seeing him outside the usual academic setting adds an extra layer of excitement to your steps. The prospect of stepping into his personal space, even for a study session, feels like a small adventure.

You reach his apartment door and take a moment to collect yourself, your heart beating just a bit faster with each passing second. When you knock, the immediate rustling sounds from the other side of the door indicate that Yunho is indeed home.

The door opens, revealing a sight that takes your breath away. You are accustomed to seeing Yunho in smart attire, his hair always neatly styled, and he consistently looks presentable. However, the man who stands before you now is quite different.

Yunho is dressed in a loose grey T-shirt that hangs comfortably on his frame, and he wears a pair of black sweatpants that appear as cosy as they are casual. His hair is fluffy and untamed, in stark contrast to his usually well-groomed appearance. Yet, for some reason, this version of Yunho is just as captivating.

He still wears his thick glasses, but the way he looks now, so relaxed and approachable, makes your heart flutter. You can’t help but notice the subtle differences that render him all the more appealing. Your eyes linger on his toned arms, a part of him that was typically concealed beneath his attire. The sight of them, revealed in the simple T-shirt, is enough to send a rush of warmth throughout your body.

Yunho's appearance today is a stark departure from his usual academic demeanour, and it leaves you both pleasantly surprised and, admittedly, a little flustered. 

"Hey, uh, you can come in," Yunho stammers, a faint blush covering his cheeks.

You step inside, casting a brief but appreciative glance around Yunho's apartment. The space is on the smaller side, but it exudes a cosy charm that instantly puts you at ease. The apartment is immaculately clean and well-organised with a sense of tranquillity that contrasts with the bustling student life outside.

The living room is adorned with shelves, and the shelves are full of an impressive array of books, neatly arranged in rows. The sight of so many books gives you a glimpse into the depth of his knowledge and his passion for education.

As you look around, you notice a comfortable-looking sofa with a warm throw blanket tossed over it, a sign of a space that was both functional and inviting. The soft glow of a desk lamp illuminated a study area with a well-kept desk, hinting at countless hours of diligent work.

Yunho's apartment is not large, but it feels like a haven for anyone seeking a peaceful refuge from the outside world. It reminds you of Yunho.

"Do you want something to drink or eat?" Yunho asks, his voice tinged with a touch of nervousness as he observes your exploration of his apartment.

You take a moment to absorb the cosy ambiance of his living space before replying, "Have you had dinner?"

Yunho's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, and a small, endearing smile graced his lips. “I haven't yet, I was going to order something later.”

“Can we eat together? I haven't eaten since this morning.”

Yunho grumbles your name, reprimanding you, "I told you, you need to eat regularly; it helps with..."

You finish his sentence with a soft chuckle, "Concentration, I know, Yu."

The use of the affectionate nickname "Yu" slips easily from your lips, and you are unaware of the profound impact it has on Yunho. His heart races at the sound of it, though he tries to hide his reaction with a smile. 

You continue, "We can eat while studying, right?" Your suggestion seems to lighten the mood, and Yunho is more than willing to accommodate your request.

“Of course.”

Yunho and you sit on the floor of his living room, your books and notes spread out on his coffee table, which also hold the remnants of an empty pizza box from your meal earlier. This makeshift study space is cosy, and the atmosphere is filled with the shared pursuit of knowledge.

Yunho is positioned in front of you, as he often is during your study sessions, carefully watching you as you diligently take notes. He couldn't help but admire your dedication and determination, and his heart swelled with pride as he saw your progress. 

As you write, a strand of hair slips from behind your ear and falls in front of your face. It is a simple, everyday occurrence, but to Yunho, it is a moment of subtle beauty. He feels a strong urge to reach out and tuck that strand of hair behind your ear, to be close to you in that small, intimate way. However, he holds back, not wanting to push any boundaries that existed between you. 

He watches with fascination as you decide to tie your hair up, using a hairband that was on your wrist. The act of gathering your hair and securing it in a ponytail seems almost magical to him. Yunho can’t deny the allure of how you look with your hair up, a sense of casual elegance that tugs at his heart.

In this moment, his thoughts stray to less innocent territories, but he quickly redirects his focus to the task at hand. He can’t afford to let his mind wander too far, not when the two of you are deep in a study session and he is fairly certain you would never harbour feelings for him in that way. 

However, the image of you with your hair tied up stays with him, etched into his memory, a reminder of the many facets of your charm that make it increasingly difficult for him to keep his feelings at bay.

You furrow your brows, attempting to decipher a particularly complex passage about pathogens. It is a subject that has always managed to baffle you, and tonight was no exception.

Glancing up, you are caught off guard by the intense gaze of Yunho. He was already intently staring at you, an indescribable emotion in his eyes. Clearing your throat, you shift your focus back to the book, feeling the weight of his attention. Yunho immediately averts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in his own book.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to take a chance and ask the question that has been bothering you about the microorganism. "Yunho, can you help me with this? I don't quite understand this."

Yunho's attention snaps back to you, his eyes focusing on the book. However, as he leans in to get a better look, the words on the page seem to blur. Determined to help you, he moves closer, sitting next to you on the floor. His arm brushing against yours, his thigh lightly touching yours, creates a subtle yet undeniable physical connection.

Yunho looks down at your bare thighs and he mentally curses you for wearing a skirt, he isn't sure how to pay attention when you are so close to him.

Yunho begins to explain the terminology and you find it increasingly challenging to concentrate on the subject. Your eyes are locked on his face, drawn to the way his lips move and the subtle changes in his expression as he explains the concepts. His proximity was both distracting and comforting, and you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

You cannot deny the allure of Yunho's presence. His crisp scent, a mix of a rich, woody sweetness and a hint of cologne, fills your senses and sends your mind racing. It is an intoxicating aroma that evokes a sense of freshness and warmth, creating an almost magnetic pull.

Listening to Yunho's explanations, you struggle to keep your focus on the topic at hand. Your eyes remain fixed on his face, capturing the play of emotions and the genuine care he puts into helping you understand. In this moment, the connection between you is undeniable, and the unspoken tension in the air seems to grow with each passing second. Little did you both know the profound effect you are having on each other as you lean against one another, on the verge of something unspoken. The second Yunho moves back to his seat, you suddenly feel awfully cold and empty, yet once again you push the feelings away.

The two of you continue your study session, when Yunho suddenly removes his glasses and rubs his eyes in a gesture of weariness. His actions catch your attention, and your gaze remains locked on his face, momentarily entranced by the change in his appearance.

In all the time you have spent with Yunho, you have never really taken into consideration how handsome he might be without his glasses. Now, as you observe his bare face, you are struck by his natural beauty. His features are chiselled and symmetrical, and there is a timeless quality to his face that make him incredibly appealing.

Yunho's clear eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, hold a depth that you haven't fully appreciated before. His skin was smooth and unblemished, and his lips had a natural rosy hue. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a different charm to him that you have never taken the time to notice.

For a moment, you find yourself in awe of how genuinely handsome he is, and you can’t help but appreciate the sight of him with his glasses off.

The study session is coming to a close, and as you gather your books and notes, you notice a curious look on Yunho's face. It is evident that he has something on his mind, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Is there something??" you inquire, your voice soft and inquisitive.

Yunho hesitates for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. "When you called, you seemed upset. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I was just worried."

You look at him with a touch of surprise at his perceptiveness. 

The fight with your friends wasn’t something you had planned to discuss, but you can sense the genuine concern in Yunho's expression, and you feel compelled to share.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to explain the situation, recounting the immaturity and unfair accusations that had led to the fallout. Yunho's shock and disbelief at their behaviour is palpable, and his expression reveals a mix of sympathy and frustration on your behalf.

"I can't believe they'd act like that," Yunho exclaims, his voice laced with sympathy. "It's their loss, you know. You're an incredible person, and they're the ones who are missing out."

Yunho's words are comforting, and the warmth of his understanding makes you feel as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. It is a rare and welcome feeling to have someone truly empathise with your situation, and you find yourself grateful for his support.

Yunho watches you with a tender look when suddenly his curiosity gets the best of him, and he asks, "What does your boyfriend think of you coming to my house and spending so much time with me?"

You let out a sigh, the question touching a nerve you are not quite ready to address. "I don't have a boyfriend," you confess, and for a moment, there is a hint of vulnerability in your voice.

Yunho, genuinely surprised, raises an eyebrow, trying to hide his excitement as he peers at you. "Why not?"

You sigh again, your gaze dropping to the floor. "Most of the boys I'm around aren't ready for a relationship. They just want something casual, and I don't want to get my heart broken."

Yunho's brow furrows as he considers your response. "I didn't expect that," he admits, his voice tinged with surprise.

"What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely curious about his reaction.

Yunho sets a piece of paper he had been studying in front of him, "I mean, you have guys falling at your feet. Don't you have one person you enjoy spending time with?"

You ponder on his words, your eyes lingering on Yunho, who is now fully engaged in the paper. He isn't looking at you; instead, his gaze is focused on the words before him. 

After a moment of contemplation, you respond, "I enjoy spending time with you."

The second the  words leave your lips, Yunho looks up from his reading, and the world seems to momentarily stand still around you. His heart skips a beat, and for a fraction of a second, everything else fades into the background. Your words hang in the air, and Yunho lets them sink in.

In this suspended moment, it is as if the universe conspired to create a connection that went beyond friendship and tutoring. Yunho's heart pounds in his chest, and he can’t help but meet your gaze with a mixture of surprise and affection. 

Yunho cannot deny the impact of your confession. It is a sentiment he has quietly harboured but never dared to voice. Now, as the reality of your words settle in, he can’t help but feel a sense of joy and gratitude for the special bond that has grown between you, transcending the boundaries of tutor and student.

—

The night is alive with the promise of revelry as you arrive at a party, a whirlwind of colour and sound. It has been some time since you'd attended such an event, focusing intensely on your studies. But tonight is different. Hongjoong, an old friend who had no knowledge of falling out with your other friends, had invited you. You trusted him not to judge your academic priorities, and the prospect of enjoying yourself was too tempting to resist.

You had chosen to let loose for the evening. After an intense study session last night, you felt you deserved a break. You wear a stunning deep purple dress that hugs your curves, accentuating your figure in all the right places. The fabric clings to you like a second skin, and its elegance draws the admiring gazes of many in attendance. Though you are well aware of the attention, you can’t help but feel indifferent to it now. Your priorities have shifted, and the superficial desires of others hold little sway over you.

Entering the party, the vibrant atmosphere envelopes you. The music throbs with an infectious beat, and the dance floor pulses with people lost in the rhythm. Laughter and conversations fill the air, and the warm glow of colourful lights creates a dazzling backdrop for the night's festivities.

Spotting Hongjoong in the kitchen, you make your way through the bustling crowd. He is deeply engrossed in a lively conversation with some of his friends, a characteristic grin lighting up his face. A sense of nostalgia and anticipation welled up within you as you drew closer.

You approach Hongjoong, who is mingling near the drinks table, a welcoming smile on his face as he spots you. 

“Do you want a drink?” He offers, but you decline, stating that you have an early lecture the next morning. 

Hongjoong nods understandingly, knowing you are dedicated to your studies. You are grateful for his response, as he does not press the issue but simply smiles and continues with the conversation.

“So you’ve gone back to your nerd roots,” Hongjoong jokes as he hands you a cup of cola.

You laugh as you take the cup, “it’s been a while since I've studied this hard,”

“You were always stuck in a book in highschool,” 

“It’s nice to feel like my brain isn't rotting anymore,” you exclaim laughing.

“I’ll cheers to that,”

As you chat with Hongjoong, you enjoy catching up and the lively atmosphere of the party. When all of a sudden you see a familiar figure from the corner of your eye. At first, you thought your mind might be playing tricks on you, but as you turn your head, you realise it was indeed who you thought it was.

Quickly, you bid a quick goodbye to Hongjoong and make your way through the crowd, heading straight for the person, who seems to be stumbling around slightly. 

Concern etched on your face, you approach him and ask, "Yunho, what on earth are you doing here?"

Yunho's expression is a mix of surprise and embarrassment as he struggles to regain his composure. "Uh… I’m not really sure," he admits, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You can’t help but feel a combination of amusement and warmth at his unexpected presence. Yunho, who usually exudes an air of composed intelligence, seems to be a bit out of his element in the party scene. Nonetheless, you appreciated the effort he made to be there. 

"Are you okay?" You question, his anxious eyes dart around the crowded room, taking in the chaotic atmosphere of the party.

Yunho hesitates for a moment before admitting, "Would it be weird if I said I don't like it here?"

A warm smile graces your face, understanding his unease in this unfamiliar setting. Without hesitation, you reach out and gently grab his hand, your fingers interlocking boldly. Yunho is taken aback by the physical contact, feeling the warmth of your hand in his, and his heart flutters in response.

You lead him to a more secluded area of the house where the music is not as deafening, and the crowd is much thinner. The change of scenery provides a welcome respite from the overwhelming chaos of the main party area. Yunho can’t ignore the way your small hands feel in his large ones, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine. It is a simple gesture, but it makes him feel closer to you, dispelling some of his unease.

In the quieter, more secluded area of the house, you and Yunho find a temporary refuge from the bustling party. 

"What are you really doing here?" you ask, curiosity in your eyes.

Yunho's expression shifts, and he admits, "Wooyoung dragged me here. I didn't really want to come, and I already don't like it." His eyes scan the room, taking in the scene around him.

For a moment, Yunho's gaze settles on you, and he notices your choice of attire, a short, form-fitting dress that accentuates your curves. It is a striking sight that leaves an indelible impression on him. His mind wanders to non-innocent places, etching the image of you in this dress into his memory. He can’t deny that you look stunning, and his thoughts momentarily venture into uncharted territory.

Although his initial discomfort at the party has faded, the sight of you in that dress stirs something within him, something he has only thought of late at night. It is an unexpected sight that leaves Yunho in a state of internal turmoil, struggling to keep his thoughts in check as he tries to focus on the conversation at hand.

The pulsating music and the chaotic atmosphere of the party seems to close in around you. Suddenly a thought crosses your mind, and you turn to Yunho, considering your options.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you ask, your voice barely audible over the party noise.

Your question snaps Yunho out of his thoughts, and he looks back up at you as if he had been caught taking in your form. His gaze meets yours, and for a brief moment, you can see the vulnerability in his eyes. It is a rare sight, and it makes you feel even more connected to him.

It takes less than a second for Yunho to answer, "Yes."

Without further hesitation, he intertwines your fingers with his, and you both rush towards the exit of the house. Yunho's larger frame shields you from the reckless partiers who are going strong, ensuring you don't get caught in the chaos of the crowd. The touch of his hand is both reassuring and electrifying, and it feels like an unspoken agreement between the two of you; an escape from the madness into a more tranquil and intimate setting.

You are not sure how you ended up at Yunho’s apartment, yet you cannot quite complain. Since the study session at his house you have desired to be back at his, it was so comforting and peaceful in his house and you love it there. 

"You can make yourself at home, I'm going to grab us some food," Yunho explains as he opens the door to his cosy apartment. He moves to grab his wallet from the coffee table, ready to head out to pick up the food. 

However, as he attempts to pass you and make his way to the door, you stand in front of him, blocking his path. The look on your face reveals your disappointment, and it is clear that you don’t want him to leave so soon.

"Can we order it?" you ask, your voice filled with a longing for his company.

Yunho hesitates for a moment, weighing the options, but he ultimately replies, "It'll be quicker for me to get it now."

Despite his practical reasoning, you insisted, "Please stay with me Yunho."

Yunho can’t help but be touched by your plea. The vulnerability in your voice causes a flutter in his chest, and he is acutely aware of the genuine connection that has developed between you. He smiles and relents, realising that he doesn’t want to leave you either.

"Okay," he speaks softly, "I'll order it."

Your gratitude was evident in your eyes, and you knew you had made the right decision. Yunho's presence is something you cherished, and you are both beginning to understand just how much the other means to you.

You settle onto his couch, and soon enough the Chinese takeout that you had ordered arrives, the delightful aroma filling the room. It is a welcomed comfort that you both enjoy as you unwrap the containers and share the delicious meal. 

You watch as Yunho picks a movie that he recommends, and you were intrigued to see his choice.

As you and Yunho start to watch the movie, you can’t help but feel a chill in the room. The soft glow from the TV illuminated your silhouette, the short dress you are wearing now seems impractical in the cosy setting.

Yunho, ever attentive, notices your discomfort and decides to speak up. "Are you cold?" he inquires, a hint of concern in his voice.

You hesitate for a moment but soon admit, "Yeah, a little."

Without further ado, Yunho offers a solution. "I have some warmer clothes you can borrow if you want. I could grab them for you."

His thoughtful gesture leaves you flustered, but you manage to stammer out a grateful "Yes, please." Your heart warms at the consideration he shows, and you appreciate his willingness to make you more comfortable.

Yunho quickly gets up and disappears into his bedroom. He returns with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, both of which were his own. His choice of clothing was deliberate, as he handed you his favourite hoodie. He has often wondered what you would look like wearing it, and now he has the perfect excuse to find out. The hoodie is warm and smells like him, making you feel closer to him in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Yunho can’t help but watch you with a warm smile as you accept the clothes. However, the smile quickly fades as he realises his mistake, and he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"Oh, sorry," he quickly stutters out, chuckling nervously as he ruffles the back of his hair, "You can change in my bedroom."

You laugh gently at him, he is so cute.

“Thank you,” you smile before walking into his bedroom.

Entering Yunho's bedroom, you can’t help but take in the clean and organised space. His room is a testament to his meticulous nature, and you appreciate the attention to detail. But what truly catches your eye are the posters of various games adorning the walls. You admired the artwork and can’t help but think that they add a personal touch to the room.

Shaking off the distraction, you proceed to change into Yunho's clothes. The hoodie he has given you is larger than you expected, enveloping you in warmth and reaching down to your mid-thigh. The realisation of just how big Yunho begins to dawn on you.

His hoodie seems to swallow you in its comfort, and you can’t help but feel a little bit smaller. His physical presence is undeniable; he is taller than you, his shoulders are broad, and his hands are significantly larger than yours. The contrast is alluring, and you can’t deny that the thought of him towering over you, his sheer size and strength, stirs something within you.

You feel arousal pooling in between your legs, but you push aside the feeling, not sure if Yunho would feel the same way.

The hoodie is so long, you make a bold choice to not wear the sweatpants, seeing as the hoodie covers everything. Plus, there's no harm in seeing Yunho’s reaction.

You step out of the room, and Yunho is skimming between channels, trying to find a different movie to watch.

When Yunho hears your footsteps approaching the living room, he turns around to look at you, expecting to see you in his clothes. However, what he sees leaves his heart nearly stopping. There you stand, wearing nothing but his hoodie, your legs exposed and on full display. 

Yunho's breath catches in his throat, and he swallows deeply, trying to suppress the flood of sensations and indecent thoughts that surge through his mind. His cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and he is unable to tear his eyes away from you, his gaze inadvertently lingering on your enticing figure.

In this moment, he finds himself captivated by your beauty and the unexpected intimacy of the situation, struggling to maintain his composure. The sight of you in his hoodie was something he had never expected, and it sends his heart and mind into a whirlwind of emotions and desires.

"What's wrong?" you inquire, noticing the wide-eyed and bright red expression on Yunho's face as he gazes at you with an intensity you haven't seen before.

It is as if a switch has flipped in Yunho's mind, and suddenly, confidence takes over his being. You watch in amazement as he stands up from the couch and moves with a determined purpose towards you. 

With each step, it is evident that he is almost out of breath, his chest heaving with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. He stops in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. For a moment, you feel like you are the only person in the world for him, and the possessiveness in his gaze doesn’t go unnoticed.

Yunho's large hands land gently on your shoulders, and they slowly trail down to clasp yours. His touch is electrifying, and as he guides you backward, you soon find yourself pressed against the wall, pinned there by his presence. The air seems charged with an unspoken desire, and you can’t help but be captivated by this new side of Yunho.

Yunho murmurs your name, his voice thick with desire and uncertainty. He continues, "You can tell me to stop if you want..."

You don’t hesitate for a moment. In a hushed, eager tone, you reply, "Yunho, just kiss me for fuck's sake."

Yunho gently cups your cheek, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of tenderness and desire. Leaning closer, his lips press against your cheek, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they venture down toward your mouth. He pauses for a moment, watching you closely, his breath brushing across your face, sending shivers down your spine.

With careful consideration, he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, testing the waters, and eliciting a soft gasp from you. Feeling the tightening grip of your hand on his shirt, he gains the reassurance he needs to continue. Slowly, he deepens the kiss, his lips melding with yours, the softness and warmth sending a wave of astonishment through your body. His lips move against yours and all the feelings of the past few months pour into the kiss.

Yunho delicately probes his tongue into your mouth, you can’t help but respond. Your fingers tighten their hold on his shirt, and a surge of electric sensations course through your body, leaving you breathless and eager for more. 

Yunho's kiss tastes like pure indulgence, a blend of desire and longing that leaves you yearning for more. The feeling is exquisite, and you can’t help but moan softly in response to the intensity of the moment. 

His lips leave yours, trailing down your neck from the curve of your jaw. Soft gasps escape your lips as he explores the sensitive skin of your throat, sending shivers down your spine as he presses you harder against the wall, the heat of the kiss overcoming the two of you. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you instinctively threw your head back, granting him better access to your neck. 

Yunho breaks away from the kiss, a hint of frustration in his eyes as he tosses his glasses aside, irritated by their intrusion. His dark and intense gaze is now fully revealed, making you realise the depth of his desire. Without delay, he reconnects your lips with a hungry passion that leaves you breathless.

His hands begin a journey down your waist, their touch igniting sparks of pleasure. With astonishing ease, he lifts you off your feet, his strength both surprising and exciting. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, and that is when you feel his hardness prodding you through your underwear. You suddenly feel extremely thankful for not wearing the sweatpants as he now has easier access to where you want him most.

Yunho carries you toward his bedroom with an air of urgency, his strides confident and determined. With a swift, well-placed kick, he sends the bedroom door wide open.

He gently sits on the edge of the mattress, you find yourself in his lap, the warmth of his body enveloping you. The world outside fades into insignificance, and you are left with a sense of anticipation that sends shivers down your spine. The connection between you and Yunho grew stronger, and the intensity of the moment only heightened your desire for one another.

Yunho’s hands travel to your hips, where he kneads the flesh appreciatively. With a calculated move, he pushes you down onto himself, grinding you against his hardness. This causes the both of you to moan into the kiss, the both of you addicted to the sound.

“Yunho, please,” you mutter into the kiss, needing relief that you know Yunho will provide.

“What do you want, beautiful?” Yunho groans back against your lips when he feels you grinding yourself onto him.

“You.” you say with confidence, “always been you.” you declare and it has Yunho’s heart racing even faster in his chest.

Yunho realises the fun he can have in this situation, and he feels addicted to the control he has over you. You bury your face into Yunho’s neck, your embarrassment becoming apparent.

“How badly?” Yunho teases as he places long hot kisses on the side of your neck.

“Please Yunho, please.” usually you would feel humiliated, yet you have no time to feel any form of embarrassment, your desire is too strong. With a swift yet tender movement, Yunho deftly flips the two of you over, your back now resting on the plush comfort of his bed. He settles between your open legs, the space between you filled with electrifying anticipation as the world around you blurred into obscurity. 

“Since you’re such a good girl, I have to take care of you, don’t I?”

Yunho's transformation is nothing short of mesmerising. The once innocent aura that surrounded him has gone, replaced by a commanding presence that leaves your head spinning. It is as if he has unlocked a hidden side of himself, and the intensity of his actions and words leave you completely captivated and yearning for more.

With a gentle motion, Yunho pulls the hoodie off, revealing your bare chest to his hungry eyes. He takes in the sight of your naked top half and your panties and it is better than all the times he has imagined it. Your nipples immediately harden in the chilly air and you hastily rush to cover yourself.

“Do not,” Yunho's gentle yet commanding voice holds you in its sway, preventing you from covering yourself. He takes hold of your wrists, his words alone enough to convey his desire, and you obediently nod in agreement, unable to resist his irresistible influence.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers as he scans over your body.

Yunho begins to leave soft kisses across your collar bones, reaching your shoulders and neck as he simultaneously massages the flesh of your breast. He leaves open mouthed kisses on your skin, suckling and biting marks into your skin that only he gets to see.

Slowly, he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, sucking it, and biting the sensitive nub, an action that has you arching and moaning into his touch.

“You sound so beautiful moaning for me.” Yunho growls before moving to your other nipple and giving it the same attention, making sure to watch your every reaction.

In an agonising pace, Yunho trails his kisses down and you can almost feel yourself shaking from excitement as he nears where you need him the most.

You almost explode the second you feel Yunho’s mouth trailing along your thighs, his teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh.

Yunho chuckles darkly when he hears your excited gasps and moans, the sounds are like a beautiful melody to him, causing him to want more.

Yunho's sudden act of sitting up to remove his jumper catches your attention, and your eyes remain fixated on him. What you see beneath his clothes surprises you. His toned, well-defined upper body, his waist is slender, his shoulders are broad, giving him a somewhat hourglass-like figure. While he isn’t overly muscular, his physique was indeed a captivating sight. Chiselled abs adorn his stomach, and an irresistible desire wells up within you, compelling you to kiss every inch of his flawless skin.

Yunho's chest swells with pride as he observes your intense gaze on his body. He can hardly believe the turn of events and the desire he sees in your eyes.

Yunho smirks as your hands fumble towards his belt, desperately wanting his pants off. 

"Patience, doll," Yunho asserts, his voice exuding confidence as he helps you remove his belt.

Left in only his boxers, you can see his length outlined through his black boxers and your breath is momentarily taken away. He is big, very big. You cannot help but let out a whimper of desperation as you look back up Yunho, who has a cocky grin on his features.

Leaning down, he starts placing light kisses on your stomach and thighs, getting close, but not quite close enough for your liking.

Instinctively, you run your fingers through his locks, trying to push him closer to where you need him. You hear Yunho chuckle at your eagerness, his heart racing knowing you want him as much as he wants you.

You watch Yunho’s every move, wanting to imprint every moment deep into your memory.

Yunho presses a gentle kiss against your clothed core, eliciting a soft mewl from your lips and Yunho hums in appreciation. You feel your whole body heat up in embarrassment as Yunho pulls your panties down, tossing them to the side of the room. You attempt to close your legs, feeling extremely exposed. Yunho feels himself losing self control as he looks at your soaking core, yet he tells himself to control his urges, wanting to make this last for much longer.

Yunho isn’t pleased with this and he lets out a growl as he speaks, “open those legs and let me see that pretty pussy.”

He grips your thighs, forcing them open and you can't help feel another rush of arousal course through you from his strength. It annoys you how slow he is, taking his time to get where you need him, he is too busy enjoying every small reaction, your desperation and eye fucking you, gauging every one of your gasps and twitches.

Yet the second his lips are on your core, the loud moan you let out is close to a scream and you feel him raviging you. His mouth works expertly against you, his tongue alternating between flicking your clit to lapping at your soaking hole has you seeing stars. 

Your body squirms with pleasure under Yunho's skilled touch, your fingers instinctively weaving into his hair as he eats you like you are his last meal.

“Yunho, please…” your voice is hoarse as you look down at him.

Yunho gazes up at you, a teasing smirk playing on his lips, making your thoughts hazy.

“Please what, pretty?” Yunho questions, yet as you are about to answer, he slips in one of his long fingers into your core. The second he feels your warm walls around him, he feels himself fighting the urge to destroy you right there and then. You jolt at the sensation, tears lining your eyes because of how desperate you are to be filled by him.

“Want you…need you…” you say, your voice shaky as you throw your head back against the pillow.

“Oh baby,” Yunho tuts, his voice almost condescending as he stares up at your fucked out state, “your pussy is so tight, I need to prep you before, don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Yunho's words send another wave of desire coursing through your veins. The contrast between his stern tone and his evident care for your well-being leaves you feeling both dizzy and achingly needy.

“You don't want to get hurt, do you now?” Yunho questions, gently slapping your thigh to get your attention back on him.

“No, I don’t,” you exclaim, doing anything to please the man in front of you. 

“Good girl,” 

He's ruthless, entering another finger into your wet hole, his tongue alternating sucks and nips on your clit. With ease, he manages to find the spot inside you that sets fireworks through you and you feel the coil in your belly starting to tighten in pleasure. 

"So fucking good, doll." He groans, his face pressed against your core has your cunt throbbing. “Can you even take my dick? I don’t want to hurt you when you’re being so good for me.”

You feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm, desperate to topple over the edge. All you need is a little encouragement, and you're extremely glad Yunho is so good at reading you.

“Let loose, baby. Be a good girl and cum on my fingers.” 

You let out a loud moan, almost a scream as your orgasm hits you and Yunho holds your shaking body down, licking your clit softly as you finish.

Before you can finish riding through your high, Yunho continues to kiss your pussy gently while adding a finger, the sudden stretch in your hole has you whining and writhing around from the sensitivity, his rough movements from his long fingers has you shaking even more. You beg for him to slow down and, thankfully he leans back, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches you twitch beneath him.

Before you can comment on anything, Yunho leans down and captures you in another heated kiss, and you moan when you can taste yourself on his lips, a new rush of arousal flooding through your body.

“Do you want to keep going? We can stop if you want to.” Yunho's voice, filled with concern, warms your heart, but you can't help the groan that escapes your lips. 

"I’d love to continue," you rush on your words, your enthusiasm unabated. Chuckling at your eagerness, Yunho moves back slightly, running a hand through his hair as he gazes down at you, a mix of pride and desire evident in his eyes as he looks at your fucked out state.

“Wait shit, I don't know if i have a condom,” Yunho says, worried as he ruffles through his bedside table, not able to find any.

“Wait really?” you question, not even the slightest bit worried about him not having a condom, in fact you almost try to hide your excitement, “it’s okay.” 

“What?” 

“We don't need it, I'm on the pill.” You exclaim, pulling him by his hand closer to you, so he sits on the bed next to you.

Yunho is taken aback by your boldness, yet he finds it extremely hard to hide his excitement. The low groan that escapes his lips doesn't go unnoticed by you, further fueling the growing intensity of the moment. Yunho looks up at you, his eyes dark as he studies your face for any form of discomfort. When he doesn't see any, he almost moans at the thought of finishing inside of you. “Fuck, baby. You're going to be the death of me.”

The second Yunho removes his boxers, your mouth is almost watering at the sight of his length. Not only is he long, but he is girthy, standing tall. Your mouth hangs slightly open as you take in the sight. You can feel your pussy throbbing at the thought of how well he is going to stretch you out.

“Like what you see?” Just like that, the caring Yunho is once again replaced with the cocky Yunho that you just love.

Instead of firing the bratty comment that is on the tip of your tongue, you simply nod your head, too overcome with the need for him to just destroy you.

Yunho leans over you again, spreading your legs wide to fit right between them, he takes his time rubbing up and down your slit, gathering your arousal to lube himself up. Your whines and whimpers are like music to his ears, and he doesn't know if he can ever get enough of you like this.

Lining up with your entrance, he takes his time to gently slide just the tip in, causing you to gasp lightly. Yunho buries his head into your neck, biting his lip as he attempts to maintain his composure. He knows he needs to take it slow in order to not hurt you, but the way you are clenching around him has his mind spinning with arousal.

He gets back up, his intense gaze watching your every expression as he eases himself in, going at a steady pace. The sting is definitely present and you squint at the light pain.

“Deep breaths, beautiful. You’re doing so well.” 

You grab his toned arms as he pushes himself further in, his own breaths getting shallow as he feels your warm walls envelop his length.

‘Stay focused, Yunho,’ he thinks to himself, over and over, desperately trying to keep his composure, yet it proves more difficult by every passing second that your tight pussy sucks him in.

Pleasure surges through you but the only thing you are able to focus on is how full you feel. Your breath catches in your throat and you tense up as he gradually bottoms out, groaning, "So big."

“Yeah, does it feel good?” Yunho’s voice is raspy as he cages you in his arms, his eyes scanning your face.

“So good… please move.” is all you manage to say.

Yunho starts with some slow, teasing thrusts dragging his cock out before pushing it back in and it has you mewling out in pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” Yunho chokes out, his sanity practically gone as he feels your tight walls hugging his cock so nicely.

The beautiful sight of him on top of you, sweaty and lust ridden has you moaning and clenching around his cock. Wrapping your arms tightly around his strong back, your nails dig into his skin as he increases his pace. 

"Does this feel good, pretty?"

You are only able to manage out a moan of approval, letting him know, yes, he is doing good. Yunho chuckles against your skin as you let out noises of pleasure, every one spurring him on and making him desperate to make you finish again. In a purposeful movement, Yunho leans his hips back slightly, so his cock is angled in a way where it hits your g spot perfectly with every thrust. Yunho knows he has found it the second your words and moan become a mixed blabbing mess, with this he smirks. He almost doesn't want to stop, he is having too much fun with you.

Yunho grunts as he starts thrusting even faster, his hand coming down to flick your clit, needing you to come on his cock. He needs you to finish before him.

You feel your orgasm approaching fast, and Yunho can tell by the way you clench and claw at his arms, pulling him down to lock him in a heated kiss, he swallows your moans and whimpers happily.

Yunho pulls away from your swollen lips to bury his face in your neck, whispering praise into your ear. 

“Who is making you feel this good, doll?” he whispers in his deep voice, “do you want to cumm, pretty girl? Be a good girl and cum on my big dick, I know you want to.”  

The coil in your belly tightens even more, your legs starting to shake around him as you moan out his name pathetically. 

“That’s it, beautiful, milk my cock dry.” 

“Need to cum,”

Yunho’s chest tightens at the desperate tone in your voice and for a moment, he knows he is definitely able to get used to your desperate whines.

“Go ahead, baby cum for me, let the whole neighbourhood know how good I’m making you feel.”

That's all it takes for the coil in your stomach to snap, and your orgasm hits you hard. Intense pleasure ripples through you like tsunami waves, shaking your whole body and making your toes curl as your fingernails dig into his arms. The sensation overwhelms you as your world narrows down to the electrifying connection you share with Yunho.

Yunho follows in suit, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside of you, his choked swears and moans in your ear as he wraps his strong arms around you, securing you in a tight embrace as the two of you ride out your orgasms.

After a few moments of silence, the only sounds to be heard in the room are the deep inhales and exhales of you and Yunho, the two of you lost in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. The intimacy lingers in the air, wrapping around you like a warm, comfortable blanket.

Yunho gently sits up, his arms shaky as he tries to regain his composure. A layer of sweat covers his face, and even in the low light of his room, you think he looks absolutely handsome. His dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks only add to his charm, and you can't help but admire him as he catches his breath.

Slowly, he pulls out, his seed spilling out of your swollen hole, a sight which has Yunho getting hard once again, yet he pushes the thoughts to the side and quickly rushes to the bathroom to grab a washcloth for you.

You can't help but feel a wave of insecurity and vulnerability as Yunho steps away to fetch the washcloth. The moment he disappears from your sight, a rush of unease washes over you, and tears begin to pool in your eyes. You never expected this level of intimacy, and now, seeing him leave even briefly, you fear he might be having second thoughts.

When he returns with the washcloth, he immediately notices the glistening tears in your eyes. Panic sets in, and he rushes to your side, cradling you in his arms.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Did I do something to upset you?"

You sniffle and shake your head. "I'm sorry. I thought you disappeared for good, and I got scared."

Yunho's expression softens as he caresses your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear. "Oh, baby, I would never do that. I promise you, I'm here for you. I'm so sorry for putting that thought in your mind."

He holds you close, offering the warmth and comfort you desperately need, reassuring you that he's not going anywhere.

“Yunho?” You look towards Yunho, whose gaze is already set on you with an affectionate gaze. Tenderly, he pushes a stray hair behind your ear, and a sense of comfort washes over you.

Leaning down, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, murmuring, "Yes, baby?"

Your heart flutters at the endearment as you continue, "What are we?"

Yunho raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a warm smile. He knew this question was coming, and he's more than prepared to answer. "Well, if you'll have me, I'd love to be your nerdy boyfriend."

A surge of happiness fills you, and you can't hold back your grin. "Only if you'll have me as your 'not so nerdy' girlfriend?"

Yunho chuckles and cups your face with his hands, sealing the moment with a sweet kiss. "Deal," he whispers against your lips, his arms wrapping even harder around you, securing you in a warm embrace.

“Let’s clean you up, pretty.”

—

“Sitting in Professor Turner's office, you're feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Yunho is right beside you, his presence giving you comfort and assurance. Professor Turner, the mentor you deeply respect, and her opinion matters greatly to you. You've been working tirelessly to improve your grades, and this is the moment of reckoning. To tell whether you are going to be expelled or not.

Professor Turner reviews your recent exam results, and you can't help but glance at Yunho. He's been your constant support, helping you study, explaining complex concepts, and motivating you to push your limits. There's a fond smile on his face, his warm eyes reflecting his pride in your accomplishments.

Finally, Professor Turner finishes her review and looks up at you with an encouraging smile. "I don't know how you did it, but your grades have not only improved, they have excelled. You are somehow one of the best in my class right now."

Your heart swells with pride as you realise the significance of her words. Tears fill your eyes and you feel the heavy weight that has been on your heart for months finally lift.

Yunho's proud smile widens, and the love in his eyes grows even more apparent. You feel a deep sense of accomplishment and happiness, knowing that with his help and your dedication, you've managed to exceed your own expectations and impress one of your most respected professors.

You look over at Yunho, gratitude shining in your eyes, and say,

"Well, I had an amazing tutor."

{i didnt proof read this, so if you see mistakes i apologise, im very tired}

[idilarila]

Twst boys with s/o who marks them with lipstick

OMG IM SO SO SORRY, I COMPLETELY FORGOT THIS REQUEST 😭

@marinahavik

I hope you like it even if I posted it way too late 😞

___________________________________________

Jamil:

Jamil is a really busy man, he's always making sure everything is fine in Scarabia and taking care of Kalim, so the time left for you two to share together is pretty little, but that doesn't mean he doesn't treasure does moments, on the contrary, its what gives him the strength and patience to keep up with his busy life. At night, when he gets the time to see you and you kiss him all over his pretty face getting those possessive lipstick stains he feels like all of his stress from the day is gone, and to be honest, he finds it hot deep inside that you do it to mark him as your man.

Leona:

He's smooth, at least on the outside, making sly comments to tease you and how you're so "clingy" and how you got his face all stained with your lipstick, yet on the inside his heart is beating real fast as you mark him as yours. There's something about your genuine affection and possessiveness that he never experienced that makes him feel so fuzzy inside, like he's wanted and loved, a big softie to you if you ask me. Obviously you're the only person he would ever let do that with him, if some other girl or person tried they would have been growled at and brushed off. Let's say you get the privileges.

Sebek:

Even though Sebek might act like he doesn't like it or try to brush it off, his strong blush is so obvious it just makes it funnier to you. Hep starts yapping about how inappropriate it is and everything but in the end he's just shy and embarrassed as well as overly nervous as he had never experienced this kind of affection nor a relationship before and with how proud he tends to be, well...he's combusting, specially when you tell him is your way of marking him as yours. Be patient to him, he loves it but he's not ready to admit that to you, he'll collapse lol.

Malleus:

At first, Malleus didn't notice, he just went on his day without paying attention, as everyone in NRC turned around to see him stunned, as they always did, but this time the motive wasn't his powerful aura but the way his face was all covered in lipstick stains of the smooches you gave him and he gladly accepted.

Only when Silver saw him he quickly run over to Malleus to tell him and hand him a mirror. But to surprise of many, Malleus liked it, dragons tend to be possessive and intense so he saw it as if you were marking him as your lover, which to him was both adorable and lovely, not caring in the slightest what the other students thought, after all, he's THE Malleus Draconia, who would even dare to speak behind his back?

Idia:

Our introverted gamer #1 is completely flustered and embarrassed, his hair turns a cute shade of pink as he tries to hide his face, don't get him wrong, he loves your affection and kisses, he just gets so nervous and embarrassed he can't help it. Ortho is also there to witness his completely smooched face which only makes it more embarrassing to Idia, thanking the great seven for being in his room and not on campus where everyone would see him.

Once again I'm so so sorry for forgetting your request and leave you hanging for so long 😭

I hope at least you liked it

[kitsunecrows]

an ode to my roots <3 (more under the cut!)

hihi friends! a lot of busy changes and big updates have been happening in my life, but throughout it all, i just want to earnestly, genuinely thank everyone on here for making this a safe space i can feel at home on throughout it all :,)

on one hand, i thought of celebrating a big follower milestone i hit just today, or even the absolute hilarity that is how that one random sdvn sketch somehow blew up without warning (or even the fact that my birthday is coming up in T-minus a few hours!!), but, i realized that beyond that, i don’t even need a reason to want to give back and engage more w this community :,3 i just love it so much that i wanna remember to have fun w the little things along the way note: i'm new to a LOT of these ideas here^ so any boosts and all tips/tricks/advice would be greatly appreciated! im literally babey jhelp me gddhhdj

no matter in what stage of my life or fandom you may have met me in/through, i truly appreciate your presence, silliness, and support :,,3 even though im not always super active d/t being a full-time sleep-deprived uni student (save meeee), having this community to lean on and learn from keeps me going. and for that, i thank you so much /gen. i love you guys!

love, kit ✍️

psst, i have also opened a kofi! tbh i still dk how it works but. it would be so cool if u wanna drop by and say hi or share what u can; any and all support will help me as a student! thank you again <3

✨🌱✨🌱✨🌱✨

more on the characters featured in this little self-indulgent spread (note: these barely scratch the surface of my boundless interests; they just happen to be the few that got me going on tumblr hehe)

a homage to my first tododeku sketch and actually my first ever digital piece on an iPad from like. five years ago! more art of them and other characters under my #bnha tag!!

my #undertale posts, esp of my fav chara <3 cheers to the friends I have made both here and beyond and how this game teaches me what it means to live and to love (beep boop looper @ilikeflowey)

that one #toh warmup sketch of wittewife that blew up out of nowhere LOLLL i was never expecting it (if u want u could totally give this raine one some more love I really enjoyed making it!)

the besties from #beetlejuice the musical (the musical the musical) they are absolute menaces hehe :,) I watched the show live about two years ago and it changed my life FOREVER I cried in the stands

and ofc, my latest interest, #sdvn from #crk as u can probably tell from my past like. 10 posts... (I cannot stop drawing blue and gold guys HELP) anywaysssss hahah im behind on reading #jambound but im catching up to ch 30; please know u can find me screaming and crying to it any time in our dedicated community tab alongside @ilikerosesalot

if you've read this far, id love to hear more about how u found my page! feel free to say hi in dm's or even in comments/tags!!

love u guys <3 ciao (again)! -kit

[borzoilover69]

Jake Writing Guide : 2024 Colourised!

Ok well, this isn't the prime year 2014 but I really wanted to make a concise and easy to consume guide for how to write Jake accurately since he can be quite the fussy tosspot if you dont know where to start. [ WARNING ITS A BIT LONG I INCLUDE JAKE DIALOGUE TO HELP WITH UNDERSTANDING WHAT IM SAYING. ] First off: drop the commas, and the apostrophes. He uses largely run-on sentences and has a sort of rambly sense of words. He does however use "these" every now and then and just as it strikes him tends to *Drag out the ole roleplayisms.* when it suits the situation.

Jake doesn't really tend to use old-timey slang but he does have rather antiquated ways of speaking, with a pension for more articulated language. He only REALLY breaks out the old timey words when particularly impressed or exasperated for emphasis. Usually, these words are british slang.

Note how he goes on a ramble that is slightly self-centred. He also spins stories similiar to how Dirk does, but without the ice-cold deal. Tossing in his own spin with his own words.

This one is just really fucking funny.

When hes particularly exasperated he leans into it MORE. Just really spreads it on thick. Like if he continues to say funny words you'll forget everything else and be distracted by his whimsy.

Jake is FAR more socially aware than people give him credit for but prefers to avoid tricky subjects hes not too comfortable with until he feels suitably ready for it, prefers battles he knows he can win so to speak. He also tends to think hes overthinking it and backtrack into ignorance. He overcomplicates things same as dirk does but rather than doing Dirks "yup thats a me problem. Im going to quietly stress about it now!", jake brushes it under the rug and tries not to think about it like a college student trying not to think about their outstanding academic paper and the promise of "Yeah, I'll do it later" (doesn't)

Note his more genuine understanding of why Dirk functions the way he does, well aware of the pros AND cons of having something like a combat machine hunting him.

His awareness of Janes crush and reluctance to deal with it:

Subsequent backtracking and denial of said premonitions, brushing it under the rug. Again, stating his reluctance to get into it because it's a situation he's not wellversed. Jake doesn't like being put into unpredictable situations, he prefers the easy road that won't inconvenience him much.

Also his desire to be seen as seemingly perfect and not have to dwell on others intents. Now this is something I don't see touched on as MUCH on writing guides for Jake English (then again the majority were made in 2014 so who can blame them.) But when Jake touches on what he views as MORE TABOO feelings aka ones which compromise the go-getter Adventurer image that arent BRAVE and GUSTO and GUNS, such as weakness, hesitation, he tends to pose back to the asking party as a question and reconsider his thought process. Like: Do YOU think its ok for me to feel this way? Why do you think that? Could you imagine me thinking something like that? He cares a LOT about his image and whats acceptable for him to be and to mask his difficulty in some social situations.

He doesn't like acknowledging that which might be sort of difficult for him to come to terms with, with the ye olde character trait of repression that him and John share, believing if he keeps his feelings buttoned up, they don't need to feel embarassed (aka: avoidance)

Hes also a fair bit more snarkier than fanon gives him hooks for. His subconscious takes the form of his best friend, but its commented as being “like hal, in terms of snarks”. Jake can also be the snarky customer to Dirk AND Hal, and Caliborn too. He's a gentleman to ladies (TO A DEGREE) but with guys he's not afraid to be more cutting with it. I am begging you on your hands and knees to drop the woobified jake english and make him slightly snarky and a bit offputting and weird. Jake grew up in the middle of a jungle and burned his grandmother.

Also he seems to be slightly aware of outside forces, note him calling attention to the fact he knows things he shouldn't canonically even be able to know.

Because Jake IS a little freak. He thinks corpse puppetry is funny. He punches what he thinks is fish hitler while ranting about movies. Hes funny as fuck. Hello.

However, with all of THAT out of the way, lets focus on some of the more ABRASIVE parts of his personality. While Jake is funnily charming with his old lingo and tendency to ramble, he has issues! One HUGE one is reluctance to fully FACE things he doesnt feel he has a full grasp on. He DOESNT like going out of his comfort zone, he DOESNT like talking about his emotions to people he really cares about or thinks has fallen for his manic dreamboat pixie persona, He's well aware people fall for it. He works hard to make sure people DO. But it sort of restricts him to that persona, he can't grow from it as long as he holds onto the idea that this persona hes chasing is the only way he can BE without being vulnerable.

Jake can be OVERBEARING, and not just that, painfully unaware when he's up his own ass! This critic he gives to Dirk applies to himself! The reason why he doesn't like brainghost dirk is because GOD forbid the man self-reflect juuust a little and find something that upsets him. Nope! Not going to deal with it. Just as quickly as he is to switch the thought that everyone loves him, he is just as likely to switch to think that everyone doesnt.

Anyways, I think thats all I have to say, Jakes words speak a LOT about his character, and I genuinely love him a lot. He has some words i think about a lot and hes genuinely such an awesome guy. I'll let a few choice pieces of dialogue from Jake himself close this out for me.

This was one of the last conversations we see with him. And I still think about his words a lot.

I'll probably edit this when I get the energy. But I think i covered most of it. Happy writing!

[dontexpectmuch]

i know how much you guys love this series, so i give you a new part. this one how ever will be;

comments/feedback is highly appreciated! please, im getting desperate :d

Habits Jude Bellingham might develop before you guys get into a relationship!

(a Lost in Madrid drabble!)

it is no secret that jude just loves to talk. he genuinely enjoys it so much to share any and every thought that goes through his mind, no matter how small it might be. he couldn’t tell when it started exactly, but suddenly he found himself on his way to you, a tired student that just wants to finish their work. as soon as he lifts his hand, knocks on your door and enters the room his lips start moving, talking so lively and fast that you need some time to register what is even happening.

“what do you mean ‘m talkin’ your ear off? you literally study literature and shit!” - “it’s more about reading, jude.” you sigh, wishing for any kind of help at this moment.

it is also nothing new for you to receive messages from jude during your quiet evenings when you decide to stay home. jude recently got into sending audio messages, you being his number one victim [forced] friend, whom he shared this new passion with. and most of the times he won’t even say anything important. he’ll just sing a new spanish song he has learned that past week. and he will sing. no matter how terrible it sounds and how much it makes your ears bleed. though, you also always listen to those audios, even though you know what the content will be.

“jude?” opening your door after hearing a desperate knock, you did not think that you would see your [not] friend standing there. he looks tiredly at you, clothes wrinkled and sandals on, “mum wanted me to bring you some cake she baked.” he gives you the tupperware filled with slices of cake, energy low. you feel your shoulders relax as you look up at him, “tell her i love her, please.” he just nods. and even though he always complains to you about how he is not some delivery boy, he can’t help but get excited at the thought of seeing your soft eyes when you receive food his mum made. it makes him feel giddy inside.

he makes you trip purposely whenever you walk in front of him, and then giggles and jogs away to join the others on the field when you send daggers his way with your glare.

he forces you to play two-touch, even though you have told him multiple times already that you cannot play really well. he quite literally forces you to become better, giving you tips while making you pass the ball against the wall back and forth. “i don’t want to do this anymore, jude.” - “well, that’s too damn bad.” his gaze serious as he corrects your form once more. “bitch.” you murmur under your breath, praying for him to just disappear somewhere and leave you alone.

“what?” you ask as you look up from your notes, eyes wide as you watch jude place a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll onto your desk. “i heard that you like sweets, or whatever.” he says, [desperately] wanting to look cool. your heart starts to pick up in speed when you look back and forth between jude and the things he just gave you, warmth spreading through your body. “thanks.”

“watch me.” he smirks at you, who looks quite annoyed tired at him. “i’ll hit this first time.” - “like you did to me on my first day here?” - “dude! i told you not to talk about it anymore, ‘t’s a sensitive topic for me, ‘kay?”

heartfelt conversations between you are not as rare as one might think. whenever jude comes to you to talk your ear off while toi work on your research, you sometimes tell him about your own stuff. that leads to various topics you two discuss, which also results in sharing some intimate thoughts. it makes jude, who usually looks so confident and well put together, look more human, like a 20 year old guy who also learns something new every day.

—————————————

surpriseee! hope you like it!! :)

[super-subraminion]

apple white is so horrible but she is also so kind and thats why she's awesome

(super long yap session below because i want to ramble about apple because she is so interesting to me just as a warning lmao)

i feel like i see sm ppl on like tiktok and all (which maybe my first mistake was expecting nuance on tiktok) acting like she's like the evilest character on the show and i feel like thats just so reductive of her character

like apple is so kind she genuinely loves her friends so much; she's always been so excited and kind around raven when everyone else was afraid of her; despite the fact that her happily ever after is essentially nepotism, she works so hard to prepare to be a good ruler and wants the best for her future kingdom; she's constantly seen helping people and trying to enact change as leader of student council(i.e having the duck crossing or smth along those lines, i don't remember exactly), etc etc.

but at the same time she fails to realize how cruel she can be at times and thats why shes so awesome. like hello, the daughter of snow white, this elegant, perfect, delicate princess also simultaneously being so selfish is so good?? even though she loves her friends so much, she fails to realize or understand why they wouldn't want to uphold the status quo; even though she is kind to raven, that kindness comes with the expectation that raven will sacrifice her life to uphold the system for apple's happily ever after; even though she grinds and grinds to be a good ruler, she is still unaware of the privilege she has; even though she helps people, she can just as easily say out-of-touch and cruel things(like when after legacy day, she takes a dig at the rebels because they don't have happily ever afters)

honestly apple's privilege in and of itself is so interesting to me- because she does go through so much and she is a victim of the system— imo everyone is a victim of the system because even those with happy endings have to sacrifice their free will in order to obtain it(i.e ashlynn's ending is good but she'd have to sacrifice her relationship with hunter for it, cerise also technically has a good ending assuming she goes w the red riding hood destiny but she sacrifices half of her identity for it). in apple's case, she was conditioned to accept everything that came with her destiny with a smile on her face, conditioned to accept a man as her destined prince when in reality they had no idea who her destined prince was and she's gay so she would've just been trapped in a loveless marriage, lied and manipulated to so she could maintain the system. assuming that eah's snow white follows the canon of the original fairytale(ik there's some differences like how raven technically wouldn't become apple's stepmom, and raven's mom wasn't apple's mom's stepmom), apple has to knowingly go through 2 near death experiences and one that basically works, only to have a someone she doesn't even love beyond accepting the fact that that he's destined for her to wake her up. one detail i've always liked about dragon games is how they went all out in the scene where apple is poisoned- the detail is visceral and horrifying, she is genuinely struggling, etc; and the reason i really liked that they animated it that way is it adds to the horror of apple's story, because the path to her happily ever after is horrible.

at the same time, the reason apple is willing to go through any of this is because she can afford to. i don't think(???) her parents die(someone pls feel free to correct me on this because im not actually sure) unlike ashlynn's (im only assuming because its explicitly mentioned for ashlynn but never talked about for apple). she isn't poisoned for long. she may not truly love daring, but he's a good enough guy, conventionally attractive, heroic, and a nice friend to her. and she goes through all this to be the most beloved person in the world, the ruler of like everyone, and get a life of absolute luxury. in the long run, she pays pretty small prices to get the best life ever. i think most of the fandom is in agreement when i say that she easily has like the best destiny on the show.

but from apple's perspective, her destiny isn't the best. she only knows her hardship, and she does have to go through a lot for her destiny— the point i mentioned earlier about how horrifying the animation is when she got poisoned is proof of that. its so telling that she cant understand why her friends would be hesitant of their destinies— especially her formerly royal friends like briar and ashlynn. briar and ashlynn similarily also get ultimately happy endings of a life of wealth and being beloved— but the price they pay is a lot greater than what apple goes through(not to mention ashlynn also has the extra motivation of being in a relationship with hunter). i feel this is especially obvious in thronecoming where apple tells briar that "we all have a part to play"— apple feels that she is also sacrificing a lot to uphold the system anyway and the way i see it is that she thinks its unfair that others are questioning their roles when it's the natural order of the world to make big sacrifices. but what she can't grasp is the others r willing to risk it all because their destiny is so tragic— like how raven tried to find everything she could about potential rebellion before she rebelled because if there was even a chance she didn't have to contractually obligate herself to a hellish life forever it was worth the risk(mostly emphasized in the books). apple upholds the system not only because of the way she has been lied and manipulated to, but also because she can afford to make sacrifices; raven rebels against the system because her sacrifice is sacrificing everything about her, including her wellbeing and life.

like shes so much more interesting than just being "the real villain of ever after high", she's another teenager a victim to the system— except she has more to gain than others so she simultaneously religously upholds the system. shes so interesting because of her sharp contrasts in character and i feel that reducing her like that takes away from the complexities of her character

obv i get why people don't like her character anyway, a character being complex doesn't mean people have to like said character. i'm definitely biased towards her because i do like her a lot but i get why people don't but idk man i feel like going in the direction of "she's the real problem!" takes away from the entire idea that this system is harmful to everyone, even those with privilege, and it also just makes her less interesting because part of why i like her and why she is such a compelling character is because she's so crazy in the sense that she is so kind and horrible at the same time— she's so hypocritical but her headspace makes sense at the same time and i find the duality she has to be really strong writing

if you made it all the way to the end thanks for reading my long ass yap session i wrote this instead of preparing for my lit essay i think i should get diagnosed-

also feel free to correct anything i said if i accidentally spread misinfo- theres always tiny details about this show that i get confused about every now and then and i always want to know more about this show

update i did my lit essay and unironically writing this helped me somehow so my lesson is that not doing my homework and yapping about ever after high is always the solution

[myunghology]

how knights act like with a crush — 1/2 parts!

featuring tsukasa, ritsu, leo x gn reader

warnings swearing 💔

genre + layout fluff/crack, headcanons/bulleted layout

a/n YIPPEE reqs open for knights 😈

s. tsukasa

2nd place for in denial awards, 1st being izumi.. unfortunately! he isn't here.

denies liking you FOR SO LONG it's so sickening, even though it's painfully obvious that he does like you; he just doesn't realize that.

the only reason is because he says a relationship would be too distracting, because obviously, with his idol work and being the next heir of the suou family, he can't a afford a relationship right now. “who says they would even date you?” “RITSU STOP BEING MEAN” “I'M NOT??”

has a habit of buying you food, incase you didn't eat yet. does this LITERALLY everyday, and even if you did eat already, he'd probably just say; “oh.. then you can just eat this later.”

and of course his members would tease him about his ‘not-crush’.. yeahhh totally they believe that (more under the cut!)

“suo~ you to~tally have a crush on [name] don't you?” — leo. “i-i don't! where'd you even get that from..?!” — tsukasa.

has a harder time to suppress his emotions for you if you're clingy. are you wishing for this death at this point? please stop that..

gets so visibly flustered whenever you hug him, saying that quote unquote “it's inappropriate because we're in a workplace” erm okay...... don't act like you don't like it you silly goose (insult)

when you do stop tho he gets upset. “you brought this upon yourself idk why ur so sad dawg” — knights “STOP”

you noticed that, obviously.. so you decided that the best option was to probably..? keep hugging him.

“why do you keep on doing this?” (HE'S WON IN LIFE) “plz stop being delusional..”

probably. asks advice from arashi mainly because she's the only trustable one in knights. (maybe ritsu too but he currently doesn't know where he is right now) if he really does like you. “WELL............... *proceeds to recite a whole paragraph*" — arashi.

“oh.”

AFTER MONTHS. of denying his crush on you. he has decided to finally face his fears and accept it. like the big boy he i-

has been taking care of you more, asking how are you through text, but still with perfect grammar and punctuations. tsukasa do you want to tell [name] anything.

TAKES SOOOOO long to plan on how to confess. bro it probably takes him a month to confess (planning included). that's for another fic tho.

s. ritsu

doesn't like the fact that he likes you because the feeling is annoying. he hates the fact that he wants your attention everyday, every moment. but he can't help that he wants to be loved.. right? (im just like him fr. head in hands)

the way he's looking at you with stars in his eyes whenever he isn't sleeping, his shoulders are slumped while he's sitting down, looking up at you arranging knights' schedule for this week. “fix your posture, ritsu..” “o-oh..”

he feels a weird thing in his stomach whenever you defend him from people belittling him. other students have done this for him before, but why when it's coming from you.. it's different somehow.

but when they shit talk YOU because of him... OHOHOOOO he's gonna start a riot.

“ritsu.. please stop biting people to the point that they'll bleed.” “NO.”

he often finds himself clinging to you and laying on your lap! especially after once he decided that he can't control his feelings, so.. typically he just tries to embrace it.

but in all honesty? ritsu's genuinely afraid that you might think he's too clingy and you would want to distance yourself from him.

he feels a great sense of warmth when you do return his affection back tho (ﾉ´∀｀*) . he feels soooo content with you— he already wants to be with you in the future!

ritsu often hugs you from your back whenever you're doing something, which often makes people ask, “are you two dating..?” to which you deny. ritsu feels sad.. he just doesn't know that you want it to be true as well.

sometimes he's the one who answers tho, and he says, “yes. we are (#‵′)” which IMMEDIATELY flusters you, and ritsu being ritsu, he definitely teases you about it, and once he found that out, he answers for you and teases you about your ‘cute, little flustered face.’

+ one for them filipino ritsuP's (fem, sorry 😭) he'd definitely call you “misis ko”

t. leo

his crush is either painfully obvious or absolutely no one can tell if it's platonic or romantic love; mainly because he says ‘i love you’ and is painfully affectionate and clingy to everyone.

probably leaning to more obvious though. It really depends.

someone could be like “leo, [name] is there oh!”“WHERE?!”

they were just kidding.

...thats what makes having a crush on him so hard. he gives these mixed signals but then you quickly realize he does those to other people as well.

he's definitely one of those people who's awkward with their crush. “thank you for being here to see us practice! and.. for being so beautiful..“ “what?” “BRAVE. thank you for being so BRAVE.”

hugs you randomly?? from the back, side, or front bro and INHALES your scent like it's the last thing he'll be smelling until he loses his sense of smell 💀

pay attention to someone else and he's gonna be wiping his tears with a hamster.

HE GETS SOOOOO JEALOUS to the point that you don't know whether to laugh or be concerned. is it really how a friend should be worrying about you? HMMMM

“im gonna be producing another new unit for awhile—” “NUH UH. NO! YOU'RE ONLY OURS!” “LEO-SAN THEY DON'T BELONG TO US”

writes multiple love songs about you and knights definitely tease him about it. you probably somehow find it while cleaning up his messes...

sounds something a little bit like lovers by anna of the north or either from the start by laufey! or... love like you from steven universe <3

or if it's a sappy song, take romantic homicide or let you break my heart again as a reference.

“but [name] is gonna be busy again today.” “aaaUGGhHHHHHHh 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔”

he cannot physically stay away from you for more than a day. if you go to another country— best believe knights will have a concert there.

©myunghology — skiffydi

[comingdownwithme]

PLEASE I WANT MORE TICCIJEFF LORE I NEED TO HEAR MORE ABT IT!!!! IT SEEMS FUNNN!!!!

Ask and you shall receive! I don't have anything too concrete in regards to the silly lil background I made for this ship, so it's probably subject to change later (Especially since I haven't been caught up on the more recent updates on any of the Creepypastas' stories), but here it is anyways! (And have a stupid bonus doodle while we're at it because I couldn't help myself)

Basically, the Woods and Rogers family lived in the same neighborhood for most of their lives, and the kids met during some social event like some neighborhood party. Liu (8) was the first to spot Toby (10) and mentioned how weird he was to Jeff (13) , who- instead of taking it as a deterrent- walked up, told him bluntly that his lil brother thought he was a weirdo, and promptly introduced himself. Thus started a friendship filled with genuine care and sincerity alongside the usually teenage dumbassery! (With Liu being dragged along on occasion against his will)

Jeff was always patient with Toby. Even when his tics and stutters got bad he'd always stay by his side, made sure the other boy had someone he could talk to, someone who would listen, someone who even bothered to try and understand him. And Toby, in turn, would do the same, even when Jeff's own thoughts scared him on some days. The two were near inseparable as years went by, moreso when they continued on with school where Toby would be bullied or judged.

(If Jeff let the awful, curious temptation simmering under his skin let loose, sending a student or two to the nurse after a particularly bad insult, who's to say)

One day though, Jeff and Liu's parents made the decision to move to a better place when their dad landed a good job. They'd be able to go to some place bigger, get things they were never able to get, learn under a school that offers better opportunities.

Jeff would've been happy- especially since the rest of his family seemed to be- if he wouldn't be leaving his best friend.

The weeks before the move was tense, especially in the Woods' household. How the hell were you just supposed to leave a staple part of your life? To let go of something- someone who had been such an integral part of it?

(Would he be ok? How's he going to make it through school? Who's gonna talk to 'im when his dad is out again- God knows where?)

(If Jeff cared a little more, felt a little more than the average friend, who's to say)

Still, the duo tried to spend the time they had, tried to make sure Jeff would leave without any regrets.

When the Woods' boys were packing their last things into their car, the Rogers family standing aside, watching their close, family friends as they prepare their leave, the two teens promised they'd keep in touch.

Years down the line, a white-hooded monster would reminisce about better days as he held a cigarette between bloodstained fingers, wondering what might have been if they had just stayed. The maddening, burning pyre of grief and anger that fueled his bloody venture had simmered into a low, thrumming heat in his melancholy, and the man wondered what his best friend would've thought of him now after everything, after one tragedy after another turned him into something even he considers to be less than human.

Somewhere, deep in the woods, a man, haunted by the glimpses of a life he was never supposed to remember, grips his axe in a white-knuckled grip.

[sxfterhearts]

keeho dating a shy bookworm headcannons, i feel like hed be so sweet <33

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ highschool!au - theatre kid!keeho x student librarian!reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: fluff fluff fluff (i miss writing soft fluff and just writing in general omfg)

♡ word count: 1,171 words

♡ author's note: im crying anon thank you so so much for sending this!! it's my first ever p1h request and it made me so happy :") i'm sorry it took so long (life has been crazy lately) but i really hope this meets your expectations <33333

//

omg this is kinda giving our beloved summer (if you havent watched it, its my fav kdrama ever!!)

ok this might be cliche but i <3 highschool!au so let's roll with it

yoon keeho as a theatre kid (are we surprised) who practices his lines everywhere around school, has friends in every single class and is always being his friendly, extroverted self

y/n as a diligent, reserved student who is also a student librarian - you're usually stacking shelves or scanning books at the library after school on most days

your relationship blossomed through shy glances and soft whispers - keeho used to take note of the days you were on duty and purposely stayed behind to get closer to you

you were in the same english class - and being a theatre nerd, he was quickly intrigued by your ability to not only analyse shakespeare to a tee but also recite the plays word for word, line by line, without missing a single beat

keeho felt his heart speed up whenever he saw you in class, losing yourself in your work. in his eyes, you were always beautiful, but with the sunlight shining through the windows, illuminating your concentrated expression as you muttered to yourself and scribbled in your notebook - he thought that was when you shone the brightest

in the early days of getting to know each other, keeho would disrupt your peaceful reading sessions behind the library reception desk with endless requests of book recommendations earning many shushes from the head librarian

"i really like romance novels... what's your favourite?" hah, very smooth, keeho

you were confused, at first, because why was yoon keeho of all people taking an interest in you?

but then as you got to know him better you realised you shared more in common than you thought. despite your seemingly opposite personality types, the two of you had similar tastes in books, and music, and food, the list goes on

"hey y/n, have you tried the new bakery across the road? they're doing an opening deal - iced americano and a croffle for really cheap. should we try it together tomorrow for breakfast? only if you want to, of course..."

"y/n, have you listened to the new sza album? what's your favourite track? i love all of them, it's so hard to pick..."

"y/n, y/n, do you remember the author i was telling you about last month? they're writing a new book in the series! we should read it together when it's out, i wanna hear your honest review!"

even as a child, you were quiet and mostly preferred to read a book or draw and colour quietly while others played outside. this was both a result of your personality and also a few friendship fallouts that made you more wary (kids can be so mean...)

fast forward to high school, you retreated further into your shell, only keeping a handful of close friends. you preferred to bury your nose in your books and lose yourself in the fictional world of your favourite characters

that is, until keeho came along

the boy was as warm and bright as a summer's day. he had a way about him that just made people feel at ease. perhaps it was because he was so comfortable with being himself, that it helped others open up too

you were no exception. initially you were unsure of what to make of his unexpected friendliness and kindness, but you quickly realised that he was just a genuinely nice person who wanted to get to know you better

and you had to admit - after one too many mornings sitting on the bench overlooking your school field together, munching on your breakfasts and sharing an earbud each, listening to the summer's latest tunes under the gentle morning sun - you wanted to know more about him too

you could feel your cold walls getting dissolved by the warm, toothy smiles he always wore around you, and his melodious laughter

a few weeks into your daily ritual (consisting of breakfast in the morning and doing homework or stacking shelves in the library after school together), keeho finally made the first move

one morning, the two of you were nearly done your with your breakfast croffles when all of a sudden, the cloudy sky turned ominous and lightning flashed before your eyes

before either of you could react, the skies opened up, unleashing heavy raindrops all around you

"quick, y/n!" keeho grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers with his. the two of you ran to the nearest school building, trudging past wet grass and muddy soil, staining your white school shoes

when you finally made it under the awnings, you both looked down at the state of your uniforms - mildly soaked, and burst out laughing at how ridiculous you looked

naturally, your gaze wandered towards your joined hands, and you slowly looked up, only to find keeho staring at you as if you were the only person in the world

you couldn't read his expression - there was a hidden intensity behind his eyes

he hastily unbuttoned and shrugged off his button-down shirt, leaving him in his white t-shirt, and promptly placed it around your shoulders to keep you warm

"keeho, you'll get cold, i - "

but he cut you off, "i can't help myself anymore, y/n..." it's now or never, he thought to himself

"huh? what do you mean, keeho? i don't - "

"i like you, y/n." he whispered softly, so soft that it nearly blended in with the sound of rain. he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets to stop himself from fidgeting

"what?" you thought you misheard, cos there's no way...

"y/n, i... i like you!" keeho closed his eyes and repeated again, already blushing red, embarrassed

you had an inkling that he was interested in you, but you never allowed yourself to daydream for too long whenever keeho entered your thoughts, for fear that you would only disappoint yourself. but now that you knew his true feelings...

you inched forwards and stood on the balls of your feet. why is he so tall, you thought to yourself as you bravely planted a brief peck against his warm cheeks

keeho's eyes shot open in surprise. it was so quick, his brain failed to process it. "wait, did you just - "

you giggled, eyes crinkling up into the little crescents he adored, and held onto his wrists before leaning in once more

the first meeting of your rain-stained lips was clumsy, as most first kisses are, but the two of you made it up with an eagerness that mirrored your initial desires to learn more about each other

when you both ran out of air, you laughed against each other's lips, basking in the tenderness of a new relationship, blossoming like a flower bud after a bit of sunshine and rain

"so... will you be the juliet to my romeo?"

"they both die, keeho!"

"oh, true... but it's romantic, right?"