#please answer. doing research for class

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!

[lactoseintolerentswag]

when they've got interpreting spiderman noir under a specific cultural lens at the function [picture of me going insane]

I cant help myself.. what can i say. And since you've mentioned some research going on behind the scenes.. do you have any fun interpretations? Or even anything fun about the 1800s!

OH HI

Hm. I don't have anything as fun as historical dancing, but I suppose this does give me the excuse (thabk u) to blab about Noir's childishness.

(wow putting this under the cut bc it got longer than I thought it would LMAO)

I think what a lot of people (including Noir's contemporary writers and yes even the spiderverse interpretation) fall for when trying to read Noir's character is the imitation of his idea of what an adult is, that he hides behind. Like Noir's persona is incredibly exaggerated. He's playing pretend. Look here, he's practicing.

A lot of his persona as Noir is imitation! Imitation of his uncle, of Urich, of the violence he's been exposed to. He's running around in his uncle's old uniform. Fundamentally misunderstanding WHY his uncle had been ashamed of it and his role in the war.

And then he goes ahead and steals Urich's alias because it sounds Cool (which is such a teenage thing to do jesus christ).

But like that imitation of The Adult isn't something that's limited to that exaggerated persona that Noir encapsulates. Peter himself is trying So Hard to be grown up and tough and responsible that it loops back around to him being a brat who would try the three guys in a trench coat trick. He even gets beat up for it when trying to defend his aunt. And I mean I've posted about him being a brat.

About how he looks at Urich as a Prime Example of what a strong and knowledgeable adult is (which is part of why he reacts so volatile in response to Urich showing he's not exactly as morally righteous as himself, he's wounded and let down). Whiskey? Whiskey sounds like someone Mature and Cool would drink, I'll have it too. And then proceeds to throw his drink at Osborn and laugh about it. The illusion was broken for me then.

But well it's not broken for everyone. I mean like obviously I poked at the contemporary writers, but I'm more talking about the other characters in the narrative. Mainly Urich and Felicia.

Urich taking Peter under his wing isn't entirely under the motivation to nurture Peter. I think it Becomes that, but he's really envious of that kid. He wants to see him lose that hope that he once had (ruh roh the opposite thing happened, being around the kid made YOU more hopeful Ben. Guess you gotta be good. Hope you don't die now).

Urich really is exposing him to an extremely harsh reality, and taking him places where adults are typically only allowed. He's letting Peter get a glimpse into what it's like, which will eventually enable Noir's tool of violence. All these tests will accumulate into what Peter thinks someone powerful and strong can be and do.

Then his problematic relationship with Felicia (writers I'm malleting you for this). He's clinging to her adulthood and the safety she represents, and he's young but she sees some adult strength in him. I mean she trusts him with the blackmail Urich gave her, which she really. Shouldn't, even if that's what Urich wanted.

Anyway, strength is something she's been consistently drawn to her in her partners. Strength to feel as her own. Even if it's to hers and others' detriment. There's also a part of Peter that's drawn to Felicia because Urich was. He's still honing in the good parts of Urich he wants to be.

I think the one person in the narrative who doesn't fall for it? Is Aunt May. You could argue it's just her being naturally motherly, but for someone who was about to be eaten alive she's pretty frank with Noir. I think she can see that that violence and exaggerated grittiness comes from someone inexperienced and young. Even if she can't consciously recognize the similarities between Noir's persona and Peter's protectiveness of her. I don't think she wants to see that. I actually have a short comic script about that, but it probably will never see the light of day.

Ugh he's like a cat puffing up to scare away a predator. It's fake!!!!! It's all fake!!!!!! He gets intimidated by JJ, he never ties his shoes, gets powers and then immediately guns to beat the shit out of Osborn, sings about the sandman when he's getting his face bashed in, crawls to Felicia all pathetic and sad, and he made a costume to run over roofs at night in.

And it's funny how he's forcing himself to grow up, but also really sad because all the things he's being exposed to is already forcing him to grow up. He's witnessing things no kid should ever see or experience.

Then there's the time period to consider. The aftermath of WWI, being in the midst of the Great Depression, and WWII just around the corner. He's faced incredible hardship and is going to continue to face so much hardship, and he's going to mature faster than he ever should have. It should have made him crash and burn Hard when he became an adult, and to me he still does because I'm ignoring everyone after ewaof LMAO.

As for my research on the 1800s NY that's for my own spider iteration run I'm working on, so not too related to Noir until I reach the 30's :3

Hope that was satisfying!!

[withlovemark]

“SORRY, HEART”

pairing: fwb! mark lee x tutor! reader | genre: rom-com | words: 29k+

synopsis -> sex helps him focus. focus he needs for your tutoring sessions. it was a win-win for mark lee when you proposed to add a stress-relief session to the schedule. the favorite fuckboy and the girl who doesn’t believe in love equals the ultimate friends with benefits set-up. it’s the perfect dream team! but uh oh…it seems like mark has been shot by cupid’s arrow. will mark survive all of your attempts at pushing him away?

warnings -> grab the tissues! (can be used for multiple reasons) pet name unlocked: kitten, so much dialogue, they’re both yappers, mentions of: periods, reader has avoidant-attachment issues, a little toxic, a lot broken, mark is so down bad it hurts me, angst, +18, crude language, fuckboys, a party, alcohol, starts off with a lot of smut! edging!!!, mark whines and whimpers and cries, oral (m+f), he loves eating pussy, nipple-play, fingering, blow-job, sex on the desk, rough sex, soft sex, unprotected sex, reader is on the pill, sensory play, overstimulation, a fake orgasm, mentions of: period sex, masturbation (m).

an -> third installment of the loverboy series is yours! i did so much research for this holy shit (shoutout to quizlet, friends with benefits, prom-pact and ariana grandes: eternal sunshine album). i don’t know anything about advanced music theory or history please i got it all off quizlet. if it’s wrong, do not come for me! important things to note -> you do not have to read stupid cupid or flying kiss to understand this story but 1) mark is the favorite fuckboy. he’s very upfront. tells you what he wants from the beginning, never leaving you doubting his actions. 2) jeno and bunny’s story is simultaneously happening 3) jaemin and his gf, angel, are happily together. have fun reading! with love, c.

“i don’t feel it,” your voice bites through the night air, cold and detached.

“i don’t love you.” you add with absolutely no remorse, just the tired truth of someone who stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago.

mark can’t help but think back to how exactly he got here — watching you walk away with the heart you shattered into a million pieces, drowning in the silence, wondering how he ever thought he could be the one to change your mind.

ᓚᘏᗢ one month ago. april 2. wednesday.

mark bursts into the study room like he was being chased, slightly out of breath and as usual, thirty minutes late to your tutoring sessions. you didn’t even bother looking up from your notes.

“you’re late. again.” you said flatly, highlighting a passage in the textbook as if his presence didn’t affect your mood at all. it did. the wasted time makes your irritation grow sharper. it was only three days of the week and he still couldn't show up on time.

“sorry, was busy,” he said, running a hand through his mess of dark hair, lipstick stain on his neck, smelling like cheap perfume and sex.

you arched your eyebrow, “that’s the third time, mark.”

he offers an apologetic smile, dropping into the chair across from you, pulling out his notebook, “i know, i know, she just…took longer to finish.”

you slammed your highlighter down, “just because i’m your friend doesn’t mean you can completely act unprofessional,” you roll your eyes, “this is my time you’re wasting too.”

he looked at you, your signature eyeliner and maroon lips making you look sharper, meaner, ready to pounce at any minute.

a mixture of guilt and fear flickers briefly across his features before he sighed and slumped forward, “y/n, i’m sorry. really. it just helps with the stress you know? clears my head so i can focus.”

“mark,” you leaned in “is your sex life really more important than your three failing classes?,” you remind him of the reason why you were here in the first place. he doesn’t respond and the silence was answer enough. you look at him, brain already calculating ways to solve this problem, until you got to one conclusion — it’s a ridiculous idea but it would be the most effective.

“fine,” you said, tapping your pen against the table, “we can have sex,” you propose.

mark whipped his head towards you like you’ve just grown two heads, “what?!”

you shrugged like it was the most normal suggestion in the world, “i can’t have you missing another session, you need to pass these classes,” you reason. “i have a 100% success rate mark, i’m not letting you ruin that because you need to get your dick wet…so show up earlier, we add a stress relief session then start tutoring right away,” you explain like you’ve been thinking about this the whole week.

mark chuckles, an eyebrow raised. sounds like a pretty great plan to him — too great…actually.

“what’s the catch?,” he asks, eyeing you suspiciously, elbow on the table as he leaned towards you.

“no catch, i just have one rule” you smirk, pointing a finger up. he nods, urging you to go on.

“you can’t sleep with anyone else,” you say simply.

this makes him laugh.

“i don’t go exclusive, y/n.”

“please,” you scoff, “i don’t want to date you mark,” you say clearly, “i just don’t want to catch a disease.”

you were very aware of mark’s title — everyone’s favorite fuckboy, leader of the dream fraternity, co-captain of the university’s basketball team and can play guitar. everyone wants a piece of him. and almost everyone has gotten a piece of him.

“i’m clean!,” he argued, looking offended.

“yeah? for how long?,” you shot back, a teasing smirk on your face.

he exhaled, raking a hand through his hair, “fine…then i get to add a rule too.”

“that’s fair, what’s your rule?,” you ask.

“you can’t fall in love with me.” a smirk on his lips.

this makes you laugh.

“well, isn’t your lucky day, mark lee,” you say with a sly smile, “i don’t believe in love.”

he studied you for a moment, confusion flickering behind his eyes, a subtle memory from freshman year playing in his mind until the smile on his face faded into something quieter, “i’m serious, y/n,” he says with conviction.

you raise a brow, “and i’m serious too mark…the day i fall in love is the day money starts raining from the sky.”

he watches you then lets out a short laugh, “okay, just wanted to be clear,” he nods, a grin creeping in, “so…friends with benefits then?”

“exactly,” you hold your hand, “deal?”

mark laughs before accepting it, sealing the deal with a firm handshake, “deal.”

without warning, you yank him towards you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that steals his breath — it’s quick, sharp, deliberate. before he can respond, before he can even think about deepening it, you’ve already pulled away, a smirk on your lips as you start packing your things in your bag.

“this room’s only reserved for an hour and you just wasted it,” you say over your shoulder.

“my apartment. friday. 6PM. if you’re late we’re going straight to studying.” you warn him before leaving him there feeling like he just won the lottery.

it was the perfect situation for him — he’ll pass his classes and get to have sex without having to do all the extra work of chatting up a girl and trying to impress them just to get in their pants. it hasn’t even started yet and he already felt like a winner.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 4. friday.

mark knocks on your door at exactly 6:00 pm on friday evening. his backpack hung on his shoulder.

“huh…so you can arrive on time,” you tease, leaning on your apartment’s door.

“what can i say? i’m stressed and i need to be relieved,” he shrugs, a childish grin on his lips.

“alright, come on,” you grab his arm, dragging him past your living room and straight to your room.

“so…how do we do this?,” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps inside, standing in your room awkwardly, backpack still on his shoulder. he looks around, noticing your bare walls and how everything seemed to be neat and organized.

“what? sex? aren’t you supposed to be the expert?,” you quip, raising an eyebrow in amusement, snapping his attention back to you.

he rolls his eyes, “well usually, i flirt with the girl first before i get in their pants,” he reasons.

“nu-uh, we don’t have time for that,” you cut in, pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you in your red lacy bra and the tiny black pajama shorts that hung low on your waist.

mark’s eyes widen slightly, glint with amusement, unabashedly checking you out, “dang dude, you’re fucking sexy.”

“is that how you talk to every girl you’re about to have sex with?,” you chuckle.

“that’s how i talk to my friends,” he smirks, earning a snort from you.

“are you gonna take off your clothes or are you just gonna keep gawking?,” you tease, lips curled into a smirk. mark rolls his eyes, finally setting his backpack down by the edge of your bed and removing both his t-shirt and sweats with ease, leaving him in his black boxers, still standing across from you — it was your turn to check him out. he’s lean, more toned than you expected, abs on display, the outline of his cock prominent through his boxers.

“nice,” you mutter, making him raise a brow in amusement. in one smooth motion, you slide down your shorts and unhook your bra, tossing it to the side somewhere as you stood proud and tall, in your red matching panties, not shying away from his gaze.

your confidence (tits) draws him in, stepping forward, closing the distance. both his hands come up immediately, cupping your breasts, thumbs grazing smoothly over your nipples with open fascination. you hitch your breath, the sensation of his fingertips making your pussy clench around nothing.

mark almost can’t believe what’s happening right now, “this is silly,” he breathes out, a light chuckle slipping past his lips, his hands still massaging your boobs.

“my boobs?,” you ask flatly, a little offended.

“no, your boobs are great, dude,” he says quickly, “i meant this situation is silly, i’ve never had sex with a friend before,” he says, still rolling your nipples in between his fingertips.

“you can always back out, we can skip this and go straight to tutoring,” you say, giving him a chance to change his mind.

he lets out a dry chuckle, eyes flicking down between you, “y/n, you’re kidding right? my dick is hard as shit and i’m playing with your boobs…we’re not going straight to fucking tutoring.”

you grin, biting back a laugh, “i’m very aware that you’re playing with my boobs and if you don’t plan on fucking the shit out of me in the next minute, i’m putting my clothes back on,” you warn him.

he doesn’t wait for a second warning. his boxers hit the floor and you follow suit, slipping your underwear to the ground. grabbing a condom out of his wallet, he rolls it on smoothly. then, with no hesitation, he makes his way back to you, lifting you off the ground. mark was a lot stronger than you thought he was, picking you up like you were as light as a feather. your back hits your mattress with a bounce as he hovers over you, eyes dark with intent, that devilish, childish grin sitting on his lips.

then his mouth crashes onto yours in an instant, messy and hungry. the kind of kiss that’s all teeth and heat and no hesitation. you tug on his hair, eliciting a groan from him, urging him closer as your tongue meets, battling for dominance. his hands are everywhere, gripping your thighs, hips, waist like he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your skin.

“hurry up mark, you’re on the clock,” you pant, fire curling low in your belly.

“you said fuck the shit out of you right?,” he growls against your throat, voice low, barely restrained.

“if you can,” you tease, challenging him to pick up the pace.

he was tired of the mocking. mark aligns himself against your entrance and with no warning, no gentleness, he slams into you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs — the stretch was delicious, filled with pain from the lack of foreplay, groans bouncing off of each other’s mouths, “fuuck y/n, you feel insane” he grunts as he thrusts with a rhythm that makes the bed squeak.

you wrapped your legs around him, forcing him in even deeper, harder, pussy sucking him perfectly as you calculatingly start clenching impossibly tight for him, “h-holy shit,” he groans, sweat dripping from his temple, “-quit doing that,” mark warns but doesn’t relent his unforgiving pace, chasing the edge like he’s starving for it.

all the while, you just wanted him to get there – the faster he finishes, the faster you can start tutoring. your hands wander throughout his body, leaving goosebumps all throughout his skin until they land on his nipples, you rub him until he was whining and groaning against your mouth, “fuck-mm close,” he manages to say in between his heavy pants, “me too,” you lie.

the pleasure in your stomach was building but you weren’t at all close to the finish line.

“yeah?,” he hisses, thrusts getting messier and messier as he fights back the urge to cum, waiting for you. his lips latch on to your neck, licking and kissing.

you decide to end his torment, “i’m cumming,” you announce, exaggeratedly, forcing yourself to clench around him as much as you can, watching him topple over. he grunts beside your ear, his release finally taking over as he spills into the condom.

“oooh, yeahh,” you moan, faking your orgasm as you push him off of you and into the bed beside you.

mark barely has a moment to catch his breath, chest still heaving from his orgasm, when he turns sharply toward you, narrowing his eyes, “wait…did you just fake it?,” he asks, feeling betrayed.

“uhh, no,” you mutter out, focusing on the ceiling, pretending to catch your breath.

mark shuffles beside you, clearly unconvinced, “that’s not how girls cum, y/n”

“that’s how i cum!,” you argue and mark shakes his head. he wasn’t stupid. he’s been with enough ladies to know that that was a fake orgasm.

he shakes his head, frowning, “no way, i feel like i just used you,” he says, the words leave a sour taste in his mouth — mark never leaves a lady unsatisfied, which is the reason why he kept on showing up late to the past three tutoring sessions. it doesn’t matter how long it takes, he’s not leaving the bed until they are done…until you are done. it’s a point of pride. call it ego or decency but either way, he doesn’t half-ass pleasure. how else do you think he got the title of the favorite?

“it’s fine mark, we need to start our session,” you say, sitting up. but before you could get further, mark tugs you back into the pillows.

your eyes widen in slight shock, “what are you doing?”

“pretty sure friends with benefits means were both benefiting,” he smirks, “i’m not moving on until you cum,” eyes glittering with playful determination, earning an eye roll from you.

“we don’t have time for this,” you scoff, trying to push him away. but he was a lot stronger than you, grabbing your hands and pinning you down the mattress.

“give me ten minutes,” he says, voice low. you look at him amused, “you think you can make me cum in ten minutes?,” you mock, an eyebrow going up.

“just shut up and reap the benefit,” he bites back as he starts trailing kisses down your neck, leaving no room for arguments.

“no hickeys, mark,” you warn him. he ignores you but doesn’t leave a mark anyways, lips trailing lower and lower, stopping for a moment to suck on your nipples, your back arching towards him. he takes a mental note of the way your body immediately responds every time he gets near your breasts.

that familiar pleasure starts to pool in your core again, unmistakable and creeping in fast. and when your hands go lax in his grip, he knew he won this time. he looks up at you with an amused glint in his eyes, hands slowly letting go of your wrists as he let them roam all over your body, mouth still worshipping your breasts, watching your every reaction, taking note of your satisfied little hums, the softs gasps and the way your lips part unconsciously.

he travels lower and lower, tongue leaving a warm, wet path behind. then, he pauses “hmm, what’s this?,” his fingers ghost over the tiny artwork placed on the right side of your hip, just above your underwear line.

“a cat.”

“cute,” he says with a grin, kissing over your tattoo, “why a cat?”

“i don’t know, i was drunk,” you were growing impatient, the frustration was getting to you. you’re pretty sure he’s already used up half of his ten minutes. now’s not the time for small talk.

“hurry up, mark,” you say, taking matters into your own hands and pushing his head lower – exactly where you needed him.

mark chuckles, the warmth of his breath making your thighs twitch, “feisty,” he teases, “the cat is fitting.” you’re ready to fire back with a smart remark but the words get caught in your throat when he slowly licks a strip between your folds.

“mmm, you taste so fucking sweet,” he praises, kitten-licking in between your folds before finally dragging his tongue up to your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud. a moan slips from your lips, all thoughts of tutoring and snarky comebacks dissolve, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of his tongue lapping against you.

you haven’t been eaten out in so long, your last and only boyfriend absolutely hated going down on you and the other one night stands you had never seemed like they knew what they were doing – always leaving you to finish what they started.

mark settles comfortably between your thighs, his eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss as he continues sucking, licking, spitting, completely consumed with the kind of hunger that makes it feel like he’s the one being pleasured. your hips instinctively move, grinding against his face as you tried to reach the high that was slowly but surely building inside you, “fuckk mark, f-feels so good,” you whine against his touch.

you feel him smirk against your clit before he slides two fingers in, following the curve of your pussy, learning the way your body molds. his mouth doesn’t stop, still locked onto your sensitive bud, sucking with relentless precision. and as soon as he found that spot, you can't help but shut your eyes in pleasure.

“oh goddd, mark,” you cry out, your body arching off the bed, head flat against your sheets as your fingers made it’s way to his hair, lightly tugging, making sure he stays exactly where he is. he lifts your legs over his shoulders, adjusting his angle, pushing his fingers in deeper as his mouth continues its worship. he eats you out like a man starved, the noises of your juices squelching filling up the room and it felt so, so good.

you can feel the heat rising through your body. mixtures of ragged pants and high-pitched moans tumbling out of your lips helplessly as the tension coils tighter and tighter inside you. then his free hand slides up to your torso, pinching your nipple just enough to tip you over the edge, completely at his mercy, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, im cumming, im cumming,” you gasp, repeating it like a prayer, fingers digging into the sheets until you’re knuckles were white, trying to ground yourself on something. your orgasm completely washes over you, body trembling as you were left gasping for air, jaw slacked, eyes rolled back, toes curled.

mark doesn’t let up, drawing out every aftershock until you’re twitching, overstimulated. you push his head away and only then does he pull back – grinning, breathless, face decorated with your slick.

“now that’s how girl’s cum,” he says proudly, licking his fingers clean, looking smug as hell.

you roll your eyes, trying to snap out of the haze, “you said ten minutes, that was definitely longer.”

“whatever kitten, we still have twenty minutes left of the tutoring session,” he smirks.

“kitten?,” you repeat, confused.

“it’s fitting right?,” he shrugs. you shake your head, reaching for your clothes with a playful scoff, ignoring the way your legs still feel like jelly. twenty minutes was not enough time but you grabbed the flashcards you had meticulously prepared earlier anyway.

“fine…time for music theory,” you say as mark groans dramatically beside you.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 6. sunday.

mark: wyd? come to the dream fraternity party

kitten: can’t. busy.

mark: but i need to relieve stress…

kitten: mark, it’s only been two days.

mark: yeah two days too long 😩

kitten: we’re literally seeing each other tomorrow

mark: why are you blue balling me? 🤕💔

kitten: im not. you can still use your hand! 🤗

mark: it doesn’t feel as good ☹️ not warm enough ☹️

kitten: go heat up a sock and figure it out 🫶

mark: are you sure that rule of yours is final? a really hot girl just walked in and my dick is pointing towards her direction 👀🍆🥵

kitten: go ahead 🙂‍↕️

mark: bro, really???

kitten: yep! but don’t expect to get your dick anywhere near me tomorrow 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

mark: nvm 😑

kitten: see you tomorrow 😇

mark begrudgingly walks up the stairs, ignoring all the girls who were glancing his way. he can’t risk it, the deal had just started and yesterday was too fun to spoil — settling into his sheets, he pumped himself up and down until he was spilling into his hand.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 7. monday.

when mark walked into your apartment, he was ready to pounce, eyes already scanning you like you were his favorite dessert. but he stopped short, confusion flickering across his face – you were wearing layers upon layers, “uhmm, you do know it’s spring right?,” he says.

“i know,” you say, a playful smile on your lips as you lead him towards your bedroom.

“so what’s with all the extra layers?,” he trails behind you, suspicious.

“we’re gonna play a game,” you say simply.

“noo, y/n, the deal was i get here, we have mind blowing sex, then we study,” he groans.

“yeah, well that didn’t work out last time,” you point out, remembering the fact that it took the two of you almost the entire session just to finish, “so i decided, we’re gonna mix the two together,” you finish, a sly smile on your lips.

“what’s the game?,” he narrows his eyes, though he can’t deny the excitement bubbling in him.

“for every question you get right, i take off a piece of clothing,” you say, explaining the rules, “and for every question you get wrong, you remove one of yours.”

he perks up immediately, spark dancing in his eyes. mark loves a good game. loves it even more when he wins — he sits at the edge of your bed, already looking far too cocky for someone who’s about to get mentally grilled. you sat on your computer chair across from him, flashcards in hand and fully clothed.

“alright, i’ll start off easy,” you begin, flipping through the flashcards you barely used during the last session, “what’s a major key with 6 flats?”

he laughs, “please, a G flat.”

“correct,” you nod, peeling off the scarf around your neck and dropping it to the floor. mark smirks. if all of your questions were this easy, you were going to be naked in no time.

“next, what do you do to write an aeolian scale?.”

“you use the natural minor of the note given,” he says with ease, relaxed and confident.

“lucky guess,” you mutter, slowly removing your cardigan.

“i’m not that clueless,” he explains, finding it all amusing. his eyes dropping to the now visible thin tank top you were sporting.

“then why are you failing three of your classes?,” you shot back.

“because the assignments are dumb and i don’t have time to do them, i already know how to apply them in real life,” he shrugs, “why do i need to know all these terms?”

you study him for a second, “mark, you can’t expect to skip steps and magically pass all of your classes,” you say.

“yeah, i’m learning that the hard way,” he pauses, his shoulders tense, the stress catching up to him once again, “now ask the next one so i can suck on your tits,” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, asking the next question anyway, “in scale degrees, major scales, what are the augmented triads?”

“trick question,” he smirks, “there are none.”

“correct,” you smile at him, removing one sock.

“you’re taking off one sock?? that barely counts!,” he groans like a spoiled child.

you shrug innocently, “still clothing.”

he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “okay fine, give me the next one.”

you raise your eyebrow, “what’s a hemiola?”

mark frowns, racking his brain for an answer, “uhhh…”

you grin, tapping your foot.

“something about a repeating melodic phrase representing a theme?,” he asks, head turned like a curious puppy.

“wrong. thats a leitmotif,” you correct him, “shirt’s off, mark lee.” he groans but obeys, tugging it over his head. you do your best not to stare too hard at his abs but he catches you.

“define consonance and give an example,” you grin wickedly.

“seriously?” he asks. “this is cruel.”

“take off your pants if you can’t answer,” you tease him. he mutters under his breath about how unfair this was before his pants come sliding off, leaving him in his boxers.

“what is a long note divided into shorter, usually melodic, values?,” you continue, holding up the next card.

“oh! i know that one, it’s a diminution,” he says proudly. you remove your other sock.

he narrows his eyes, “you’re cheating.”

“nope. you’re just losing,” you tease.

you flash the next card, “alright, what is existing or occurring within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?”

“...i hate you,” he mutters as he gives up on pretending to answer, accepting defeat and sliding off his boxers. his semi hard cock on display.

you laugh, fully dressed except for the missing cardigan and socks, “awee, look at you…all naked and we’re barely halfway.”

mark glares, though there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “this is the most academically humiliating foreplay i’ve ever experienced.”

you laugh, “where is the tenor clef sign located?,”you give him an easy one, knowing that he needs to have motivation to keep going.

“one space above the alto clef,” he says. you hum, pleased, stripping off your leggings, showing off the white lacy underwear you wore just for him. his eyes drop instantly to the undeniable wet spot of your arousal and you part your legs slightly, inviting him, teasing.

“you sick little, kitten,” he swallows, “this is actually turning you on?,” he asks, mildly confused and little turned on.

“what can i say? i love humiliating men,” you smirk, earning an eye roll from him, “what’s a cluster?”

“a chord consisting of at least three adjacent notes of a scale,” he answers, voice low, tense. more determined now to get the answers correct.

“good boy” you purr, lifting the tank top over your head, that little praise makes his mind go absolutely crazy, his cock twitching. your sheer white bra does nothing to hide your hardened nipples and mark fights back the urge to pull you into his lap and fuck you senseless, his boner getting harder within each passing second, restraint visibly cracking.

“define neoclassicism,” you ask, voice steady, brows raised.

mark blinks, then answers slowly, “uhh a general revival or interest in classical cultures and usage of themes and styles from ancient greece and rome?”

you look up at him, impressed, “can’t believe all it takes is wanting to see my tits to get you this focused,” you grin, unclasping your bra and tossing it right into his lap. he catches it midair, eyes instantly zeroing in on your now bare-chest. you roll your chair closer to him, spreading your legs and placing them on either side of him, effectively caging him in. mark’s breath hitches – it was getting real hot in here and he was fully naked.

he reaches for your breast but you slap his hand away, “touch me and the session ends. we’re done.” you warn — having control turns you on more than you care to admit. the way his eyes darken but obeys anyway. the tension practically pulsing between your bodies. he looked so small in between your legs and it makes you want to break him even more.

“hurry up and give me the next one,” he mutters, jaw tight, trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself. it was torture. having a sexy half-naked girl right in front of him and not being able to do anything about it. your breasts were on full display, sitting prettily on your chest, your panties were practically dripping and he wanted nothing more but to taste you. wanted nothing more than to hear you moaning under him once again — you were a cruel vision of pleasure he’s not allowed to touch.

“a phrygian is which degree for the key?”

“uhh fifth?,” he guesses.

“wrong,” you say, lips curling in amusement. he groans, cock twitching.

“a mixolydian is which degree for the key?”

“third!,” he tries this time.

“wrong again,” you say, nearly laughing now. his patience was starting to blur. he’s one wrong answer away from losing his mind and you’re relishing every second of it – enjoying every grunt that passes his lips. his cock twitching so close to your core, making you clench.

“you got them mixed up,” you correct him before asking the next question, “a lydian is which degree for the key?”

he groans. he was barely holding on. he shuts his eyes, pausing, taking a minute to think about it, “...fourth?”

you lean in, voice silk and smoke, “are you asking me or are you telling me, mark lee?”

“i-i’m telling you,” he says, voice shaking with the amount of restraint he was trying to hold on to. you were so close now, heat practically radiating off of you. you smirk up at him, tossing the flashcards to the side and smashing your lips on his. he responds immediately. lips chasing yours, urgently and needy.

“correct,” you whisper in between the kiss. his hands immediately latch under your thighs as he pulls you into his lap. you feel the hot, hard press of his cock against your soaked underwear.

“take these damn panties off,” you murmur against his ear. he grunts as his fingers slide beneath the lace, pulling down the last barrier between you.

“fuuckk, you’re dripping for me,” he praises, dragging his fingers through your slick, rubbing up and down your folds before sliding two deep inside of you, making you moan against his lips. this time, his fingers immediately find that spot that makes your toes curl.

“r-right there, mark…d-don’t stop,” you whine, the tension between you rising as your hips start riding his digits, matching the rhythm of his fingers curling inside you. each thrust sends sparks through your belly, pressure building fast. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast but precise circles that have your head falling back, the grip on his shoulders tightening as you continue to bounce on his fingers. his lips close around your nipples, tongue flicking, sucking furiously, drawing out the high you can’t hold back — your orgasm came crashing down embarrasingly fast, leaving you breathless.

“can’t believe humiliating me got you this fucking soaked,” he smirks, breath hot against your skin, “you’re such a dirty girl, kitten,” he teases, licking his fingers clean. before you can recover, he flips you over with practiced ease, ass up and back arched just the way he likes it. you hear the familiar crinkle of foil as he tears open the condom wrapper, then feel the thick heat of him pressing against your entrance before he slides in, deep, the stretch making your teeth clench — the wait was worth it. you were so wet for him…so warm he almost busted as soon as he entered.

“you’re cumming on my cock this time,” he growls, determined, as he adjusts his member, searching for the angle that makes you scream. as soon as he found it, his fingers dig into your hips, thrusting into you from behind, sharp and relentless, your face pressing down on the sheets as the slap of skin echoes throughout the room.

this new angle hits you perfectly, “f-feels so good,” you manage to gasp, voice shaking with every snap of his hips as your hands continue to grip the sheets for stability, moans growing louder with each movement.

he growls in response as he leans over your back, lips brushing your ear, “this what you wanted, kitten?, to tease me until i snapped?” you can barely form words, nodding helplessly, body jolting forward with the force of each thrust. his hand snakes around to press against your lower belly, holding you still as he drives deeper, harder, making sure that you can’t fake anything this time.

“cum,” he demands, his breath hot against your neck as he starts sucking on your shoulder, “cum all over my cock.”

“fuck mark–i’m so close!,” you cry out, voice cracking under the pleasure, building fast and unforgiving. your knees feel weak beneath you but his grip keeps you grounded, keeps you exactly where he wants you. sweat sticks to both of your bodies now, the heat almost unbearable. then, without warning, he pulls you up, your spine arching as he pressed you against his chest. one arm wraps around you tightly, holding you in place while the other dips between your thighs, fingers finding your swollen clit, circling in perfect sync with the relentless thrust of his hips.

“c’mon, kitten” he breathes against your neck, voice low and rough, “give me another one,” he grunts. you cry out, whimpering, overwhelmed — your release finally taking over as breathless whines of his name slip from your lips.

you came all over his cock, body jerking in his arms, head falling back against his shoulder. mark holds you through it, grinding deep inside, chasing his own release with a sharp muffled groan against your skin. for a moment the room is nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the faint creak of the mattress, savoring your shared orgasms until he finally pulls out, flopping backwards onto the bed with a satisfied sigh, arm draped over his eyes. you let yourself melt into the pillows, limbs heavy and boneless, chest still rising and falling in the aftermath. he lies beside you, chest glistening with sweat, rising with each breath.

“well,” mark pants, breaking the silence, “if we keep studying like this, i’m definitely passing all of my classes with an A+”

you laugh breathlessly, turning your head to the sound of his voice, “A+ huh? that’s bold of you.”

“please,” he says, cracking one eye open to look at you, “you saw me, I was focused, determined…inspirational,” he exaggerates, a playful smile on his lips.

“you got half of the questions wrong,” you point out, “we’re far away from an A+,” you tease.

he smirks, “fine by me, that just means more tutoring sessions,” he throws you a wink and you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

you kick him out of your apartment as soon you both calm down, mark leaving completely satisfied. this is, by far, the greatest deal he has ever had to make.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 9. wednesday.

you sat cross-legged on the bed, flashcards in hand, watching mark settle into your desk chair with boyish excitement written all over his face. he leaned back, arms draped lazily over the armrests. you weren’t wearing a ridiculous amount of layers today, which meant he was going to be able to fuck you faster than last time.

“so,” you begin, flipping through the stack, “today’s game is a little different.”

his brows lift in curiosity, an eager smile playing at his lips. of course it was. he should’ve known you always came with surprises. always keeping him on his toes.

“for every question you get right,” you say, pausing just for dramatic effect, “i suck your dick.”

mark’s eyes widen a little too fast, the thought of your mouth around his cock so appealing. this was going to be too easy, “you’re joking?,” he breaks into a smug grin.

“i’m not,” you smirk, making your way over to him and sinking to your knees in front of him. you look up, expression all wide eyes and faux innocence. he knows better by now. “but don’t get cocky,” you warn, smirking as you settle between his legs, “i’m not moving if the answer is wrong.”

that wipes the grin off his face, just a little, “i’m not getting any of them wrong.” he came prepared this time, actually paying attention in class and reviewing his notes in order to be able to be rewarded by you.

you chuckle as you tug his sweats down, revealing his already semi hard cock, “no underwear?,” you asked, an amused smile on your face.

“why bother?,” he shrugs, a chuckle leaving his lips. with no warning, your fingers wrap around his member, stroking slowly, giving him a preview of what’s to come — mark immediately groans at your touch, head tipping back slightly at the sensation of your warm hands, cock already twitching in your hand. you looked so tiny around him and he’s already struggling to keep his composure. then your tongue glides along the side of his shaft, slow and deliberate, before swirling around the tip, collecting his leaking precum. the taste lingers on your tongue as you look up at him through your eyelashes. he was too relaxed, too comfortable, eyes focused on you with a smug on his lips. without breaking eye contact, you take the tip of his now fully hard cock into your mouth, sucking gently. it earns a low grunt from deep in his chest, his thighs tensing beneath your hands, but just when he leans into the sensation, you pull away completely, lips slipping off him with a soft pop.

frustration flashes across his face as you casually reach over and grab the stack of flashcards beside you and he’s reminded that this was the game. perhaps, this is not as easy as he thought it was going to be. he sighs in defeat and all you do is wave the flashcard lazily in your hand, eyes glinting with mischief. mark sits up straighter, his dick incredibly hard and throbbing in front of you, twitching with every passing second.

“alright,” you begin, voice sweet, innocent and absolutely lethal, “what is existing within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?,” you repeat the question he got wrong last time.

mark squints, trying to focus, despite the way your fingers are slowly tracing circles on his inner thigh, not quite touching him. “diegetic or source music,” he answers. you raise an eyebrow, impressed, a hum of approval slipping past your lips.

“correct.” before he can smirk, you lean forward again, lips wrapping around him once more, this time a little deeper. his head falls back instantly, a low grown escaping. you suck him in slow and warm, letting the reward sink in and just as he starts to melt, you pull away again with a soft gasp of air, reaching for the next card like nothing happened.

he looks down at you, flustered, chest rising faster, “kitten, you’re insane.”

you flash him a dangerous smile, “define mickey-mousing.”

he doesn’t answer right away, jaw tight, trying to stay focused while his cock stands there, glistening and so so hard. “a film technique that syncs the accompanying music with the actions on screen,” he says, breathing hard.

“look at you, actually paying attention,” you tease before leaning in again, placing a kiss to his tip, taking him once again, just a little deeper, a little wetter. his whole body shudders and he mutters something that sounds like a prayer. you were only three flashcards in. he doesn’t know how much of this edging he could take. he hopes, god, he hopes he knew all the answers. when you let go again, you smile sweetly, tapping the next card against his thigh, making him clench slightly.

“what are the notes of a D major triad?” — “D, F, A,” he manages to say.

“hmm, wrong, those are the notes of D minor triad,” you correct him, leaving his cock neglected as you sit back on your heels, folding your hands in your lap. “no mouth for wrong answers,” you tease as he groans, head falling back dramatically.

“you’re actually evil, kitten.”

you only smile, reaching for another card. he glares at you like a man on the verge of a breakdown, “hurry up, i'm going to die.”

you ignore him, “list all major intervals,” you ask, resting your elbow on his knee like this is the most casual game of flashcards in the world. like his dick wasn’t right in front of your tits — the image has his cock twitching extra hard. he had to get this one correct. he racks his brain for the answers, recalling what he learned in class.

“it’s major second, major third, major sixth and major seventh,” he answers shakily.

your hand curls around the base of his cock again, making him suck in a sharp breath “correct,” you take him in all over again. he exhales hard, threading his fingers into your hair, grounding himself. you’re slower this time, deliberate and precise, letting the praise build in your mouth just like the tension between you. he did give you four correct answers. when his hand tighten a little too hard, you pull off again.

“fucckk, i hate this,” he whines shakily.

“scale the degrees in order,” you smirk.

“tonic, supertonic, mediant, subdominant, dominant, submediant, leading tone,” he answers quickly, determined, voice breathless with need.

“wow…all correct,” you say, a light shock in your tone and a proud smile tugging at your lips. he doesn’t even get a second to bask in it before your mouth is on him again, wet, warm, perfect. he moans, hips twitching up slightly and you let him, just for a second. the reward is intoxicating. and you have half the mind to continue sucking him until he was writhing under your touch. but you pull away once more, wiping your lips with a devilish smile.

“alright, next one,” you say cheerily, like this is all just a friendly trivia night.

mark looks like he might cry.

“why are you doing this to me?,” he gasps.

“don’t act like you don’t like it,” you say, “besides it’s working, you’ve only missed one question so far,” you say proudly.

“yeah, because i’ll literally die if i miss another,” he whines — this went on for a good thirty minutes more. mark only getting a couple wrong, until you were down to your last flashcards and he was teetering at the edge. ready to bust every single time you put your mouth on him but not quite getting there.

his cock is so red, throbbing, leaking to the point it hurts. a couple drops messily on his thigh, a couple on his stomach but never enough to reach his full release. there were tears streaking down his cheeks, his lips quivering. he was absolutely gutted. absolutely vulnerable.

“what’s the natural minor scale pattern?” — “minor diminished major minor minor major major,” he answers, getting the words out as quickly as possible.

this time, instead of wrapping your mouth around him, you reached for the condom you had ready, sitting pretty on your desk, anticipating this moment. his breath hitches as you tear the wrapper open with your teeth, wrapping it on his hard cock, mark practically growling under your touch. you smile sweetly, removing your shorts and crawling into his lap, knees pressing into either side of his hips. the heat of your soaked underwear brushing against his cock makes him hiss through his teeth.

he can’t take it anymore.

“what are the chromatic intervals?” — “minor, diminished and augmented intervals,” he whispers, barely hanging on.

“good boy,” you praise him as he breathes heavily under you. pushing your panties to the side, you lined him against your entrance. his breath catches, fingers finding your hips as you start to sink down onto him, inch by inch, teasing slowness, warm and tight until he’s fully buried inside you. his cock stretched you just right. a strangled moan escapes both of your lips.

“holy shit,” a low, wrecked sound escapes his throat, as he grips your hips tightly, trying his best not to unload right there, “thank you,” he trembles, breathing shakily.

he was obviously not going to last long. and it was so extremely hot. you discard the flashcards as you rolled your hips once, slow and deep, each movement designed to drive him out of his mind. mark’s hands are everywhere now, on your back, thighs, gripping your ass as he helps guide your motion, pushing up into you with desperate need. everytime you drop your hips, he lets out another choked curse, eyes glued to the way your body moves against his. you feel his cock twitch inside you, a telltale sign that he was incredibly close to coming undone.

“you gonna cum for me?,” you whisper against his ear, teeth gently grazing the lobe. he nods frantically, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. he’s never felt this kind of pleasure before, the kind that makes him lose absolutely all sense of logic, just nodding like he was some sort of yes-man.

“-fuucck kitten, yes, d-don’t stop, p-pleasee,” his whines encourage you, dragging your hips in a deep circle that has you both gasping. it doesn’t take long. the tension you’ve built the entire session finally snaps as he groans your name, hands clutching you, hips buckling up hard, coming with a gasp buried into your neck.

you don’t stop bouncing. continuing to fuck yourself into his cock, rubbing your own clit.

“k-kitten, it hurts,” he whines. you block all of his pleas of stops, all of his whimpers, the way he’s fully crying out, fingers gripping his own hair, until your thighs are shaking, orgasm taking over, a loud moan slipping from your lips as you cling to him, both of you gasping, bodies slick and trembling.

you absolutely wrecked him — mark’s vision blacks out for a minute too long. his arms loosely wrapped around you as he tried to catch his breath. hair sticking to his skin. that was the best fucking orgasm he’s ever had and he’s had a lot.

and just like the past two tutoring sessions, mark was out the door as soon as he got dressed and it doesn’t get any better than this.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 11. friday.

mark enters the university’s basketball court, searching for your frame. you’d texted him to meet you here, a lot earlier than the usual tutoring session. the court was empty, echoing slightly and he spots you instantly, sitting on the bleachers with a book in your hand — he wonders what today’s game is, a little worried about the public location you chose.

“hey dude,” he redirects your attention to him, “are we about to indulge in exhibitionism?,” he teases, an eyebrow going up.

you laugh, closing your book. “no mark, we can’t have sex today,” offering him a sheepish smile.

he looks at you like you just delivered the worst news he could ever hear, “is everything okay?,” he asks, taking a seat next to you.

you nod, “everything’s fine, i’m just on my period,” you say casually, turning toward him.

his eyes widen slightly in acknowledgment before a grin breaks out of his face, “you know…,” he leans in, whispering, like you weren’t the only two people in this room right now, “a period only stops a sentence,” he teases.

you roll your eyes, lightly shoving his face away, “nu-uh mark lee, no way,” you say crashing all his dreams of period sex down the drain, a light smile on your lips.

“why not?, i heard somewhere, it helps with all the cramps and stuff,” he continued, still trying to convince you.

“i’m on my second day, everything’s too messy,” you say flatly, dismissing the idea with a wave of your hand. “—anyways that’s not why we’re here,” you rise from the bleachers, grabbing one of the basketballs on the side and tossing it to him.

mark catches it easily, “we’re gonna play basketball?”, he asks, a brow raising.

“yup, i read somewhere that physical activity helps with memory retention, so we’re gonna play a game while i tutor you,” you explain, standing a little below the hoop.

“you can play basketball?,” he asks, clearly amused, as he starts dribbling the ball in front of you.

“i’m no co-captain of the basketball team or anything but i’ve got a few moves,” you reply, stealing the ball from him with a cheeky grin, “and…if you win, you get to choose what we do during the next session.”

his brow raises, a smirk on his face, mind already racing of things he wanted to do to you. he could have you in his lap as he fingers you until you cry for him. he could have you bent over your desk as he fucks into you. he could spend the whole day eating you out. the possibilities were endless.

“alright,” he says, already feeling competitive, “game on.”

mark dribbles lazily as he awaits your question. you narrow your eyes, “the classical era dates are?”

mark answers quickly, “1750-1820,” like it was a piece of cake. he really is getting better at paying attention in class.

“correct. take the shot.” he does and it bounces off the rim, a curse slipping from his lips. you catch the ball with a grin.

“the romantic era dates are?,” you ask, already dribbling towards the other side. mark gets the answers correct again as you ducked under his arm, tossing the ball into the net.

“okay, showoff,” he mutters playfully, jogging to grab the ball. the game goes on for a solid fifteen minutes. the two of you jogging back and forth. you call out questions, dates, composers, and mark fires back with surprisingly accurate answers. it was a good game between friends, a good session between a tutor and her student.

mark was winning now with several points ahead of you. he hasn’t missed a single shot since the first one, while you were just getting lucky every time you made the ball in your net. he can’t help but find it adorable though – the way your face would light up every time you made a shot. the way you would do a mini celebration, a happy little dance. it was so different from your usual serious, focused, studious side. this side of you is loose, giddy, warm and he’s having way more fun than he expected to.

“alright,” you say breathless but still trying to keep up with him, “dates of the modern–”

you don’t get to finish your question. a sudden wave of pain crashes through your abdomen, so sharp it knocks the air right out of you. you double over mid-step, the ball slipping from your hands and bouncing off to the side, a yelp coming slipping from your lips.

“w-what’s wrong?!,” mark practically bolts to your side as you inhale, trying to catch your breath.

“sorry, just a really bad cramp,” you say, shutting your eyes as the pain traveled all throughout your body. he watches you for a second or two, eyes scanning your figure, registering the pain before he closes the distance, crouching in front of you. he has no idea what to do. he’s never dealt with a girl on her period before. his hands hover for a moment before resting gently at your sides, fingertips against your lower abdomen in slow circles.

you flinch, surprised at his touch, “what are you doing?”

“don’t massages help?,” he asks softly, big brown eyes filled with worry. his touch is careful, like he’s afraid of making it worse. you don’t have the heart to tell him it doesn’t really help, not with cramps this intense. still, the gesture alone tugs something warm in your chest. so for a moment you just let yourself sink into it, leaning against his chest for support like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your head rests there, tentative at first, then heavier. it’s a moment of vulnerability you haven’t shown anyone for a long time – not since your ex made you feel like needing comfort was a flaw, like softness was a burden.

mark stills when you rest against him, almost like he’s holding his breath. then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms come around you, careful and steady, not sure if any of this is okay. he doesn’t say anything, just holds you, warm and solid, his chin brushing the top of your head as you breathe through the pain. no teasing, no jokes, no snide remarks – just quiet presence.

eventually, you gently pull back, and he feels himself straighten as if waking from a trance. “i think i have to cut the tutoring session short today,” you say apologetically.

“kitten, don’t even worry about that,” he says immediately. the nickname — usually tossed around with a grin, lands softer now. you don’t think too much about it, brushing off the feeling as soon as it came.

slowly, you got up from the floor, pushing through the lingering pain, “i’m gonna go home and die now,” you say with a weak laugh. he chuckles quietly, standing with you.

“i’ll walk you home,” he offers and you turn it down immediately.

“it’s okay, mark,” you make your way back to the bleachers, gathering your things. “i’m a big girl,” you add, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “i can take care of myself,” you shoot him a smile as he follows you out the court.

“you sure?,” he asks, eyes scanning your face like he’s still not convinced.

“yeah,” you say gently, “thank you, though. i'll see you on monday,” you lean up and press a light kiss to his cheek, quick, grateful. then you turn to leave, not waiting for his response.

behind you, he stays still on the court, watching your figure walk away like he’s not quite ready to let the moment end. the kiss on the cheek lingering on his skin.

once he got back to the dream house, mark still can’t help but wonder if you were okay. he’d showered, changed, even tried zoning out to whatever song was playing through his speakers but his thoughts kept circling back to you. the image of you doubling over in pain, your face twisting as you tried to play it off, like it was nothing, kept replaying in his head like a song stuck on loop.

and he hated it – hated seeing you hurt. hated the way you pretended it wasn’t a big deal. hated the way you apologized for needing a break and absolutely hated the way you waved him off, like his concern was too much.

he told himself it was normal. this was normal. he is your friend. it’s normal to be worried about your friends. that’s allowed.

when he walked into the living room and found jaemin sprawled across the couch, glued to his phone and jeno halfway through a protein bar, he didn’t stop to think before blurting out, “what do you do when angel and bunny are on their periods?”

the question dropped like a brick. jaemin blinked, his gaze dropping from his phone to mark, “uhh why?,” he asks, a curious grin on his face.

mark shrugs, flopping down onto the couch “nothing, just curious.”

there was a beat of silence, then jaemin replied, “well, angel’s gonna murder me for saying this but she gets needy…wants me glued to her side the whole time with extra cuddles and kisses…heating pads are a must,” jaemin chuckles, “oh and sex helps too,” he says with a wink.

mark huffed a quiet laugh, “what about bunny?,” he turns to jeno.

jeno choked on his water, “uh–what? bunny and i don’t have sex,” he says flustered.

mark eyes him suspiciously, “yeah, i know. that’s not what i meant,” he says slowly, “i mean she’s your best friend and you’ve known her since forever right, you should know what she’s like on her period?,” he asks, a playful grin on his lips.

“oh..right,” jeno mutters, “uhm she’s the complete opposite, she locks herself in her room like she’s going into hibernation mode, she just texts me with a list of snacks she wants and i leave those at her door and leave,” he explains.

mark chuckled, but it faded quickly. his mind was racing with a million thoughts of how he could make you feel better. what were you like? did you want to be left alone? did you want snacks? cuddles?...is cuddling even allowed?

jaemin tilted his head, studying him. “wait…is this about your girl?”

mark blinked, “she’s not my girl.”

jeno gave him a long, skeptical look.

“she’s really not!,” mark repeated, more defensively this time, “we’re just friends and i care about my friends well being, okay? that’s all,” he convinces himself more than he does them. before they could say anything else, mark stood up, headed for the door.

⟢

when your phone buzzed, you squinted at the notification from your cocoon of blankets, blinking away the throb of cramps that hadn’t quite given up yet.

mark: hi friend

mark: i’m outside

mark: just want to make sure you’re okay lol

you hesitated, considering pretending to be asleep but something in you tugged toward the door. that soft, stubborn part that wanted not to feel alone tonight. curse these hormones. you cracked it open to find him there, hoodie half zipped, a plastic grocery bag in hand.

“hi,” he said, a little breathless, “i brought you some things.”

you opened the door wider, letting him in, “i told you i was okay.”

“i know but as your friend i had to make sure,” he practically shoves the bag in your hand as you inspect what’s inside. the bag was filled with different kinds of snacks, chocolates, candies, and three boxes of heat patches.

you took the heat patches out and raised a brow, “three?”

“listen,” he said, flopping lightly on your couch, “jaemin said they were ‘a must’ and i panicked,” he says casually and you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept up. it’s been a while since the last time you’ve let anyone do anything for you.

“thank you,” you breathe, the words soft and sincere, stripped of your usual teasing edge. the smile you give him isn’t your usual sly smirk either, it’s quieter, gentler and it makes something in mark’s chest flutter unexpectedly. he looks at you a second too long, heartbeat catching like it’s suddenly forgotten how to work properly.

minutes later, the snacks were spread out on your coffee table, a heating patch working its magic under your hoodie and to all the boy’s i've loved before playing on your t.v. mark sits beside you, a careful few inches of space between your bodies. he didn’t try to fill the silence, didn’t try to cheer you up with jokes or distractions. he was just there – steady and warm and quiet.

when the credits roll, he finally speaks, voice low, “you know,” he says, glancing over at you with a soft smile, “for someone who doesn’t believe in love, i wasn’t expecting you to put on a romcom,” he turns his body towards you as you sat end to end on the couch.

you laugh, shifting slightly under the shared blanket, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a tired smile, “please, your favorite movie is spiderman…do you believe he’s real?”

“how do you know spiderman’s my favorite movie?,” he asks, a light smirk on his face.

“sophomore year, film elective class, you were totally geeking, practically bouncing up and down next to me,” you remind him, exaggerating the detail a tiny bit.

mark huffs a laugh and nudges your knee with his, “ok but it’s different…spiderman is a fantasy character.”

“exactly,” you say, your voice softening, “so is love.”

the words aren’t bitter. just…matter-of-fact. like something long accepted and carefully folded away.

mark turns his head toward you, studying your face in the dim glow of the screen. shadows play across your features, softening the hard lines you've spent building — he thinks back to the first time you met during freshman year orientation. you were the first person he’d ever talked to, bouncing up to him in a soft blue sundress and a smile too big for the room. you introduced yourself with sparkles in your eyes, asking him if he believed in soulmates, like that was a completely normal ice breaker. you were glowing then, all wide-eyed and wonder. all heart. spilling stories about your high school boyfriend like love was the most natural thing in the world. he hadn't even told you his name yet, and there you were, already peeling yourself open for him, talks of forever from your pink lips. you were all blush-colored hope and reckless honesty. he remembered thinking you were kind of intense. too trusting. overly romantic. he hadn’t understood the way your whole world seemed to spin on the axis of love.

now, years later, that sparkle has been replaced by a colder fire, a guarded kind of strength he’s grown used to. the kind that keeps everyone at arm’s length. the kind that never let’s anyone close enough to see where it hurts. your smile — once easy and disarming, has taken a brittle edge, still beautiful, but sharpened by something heavy and unspoken. you don't talk about soulmates anymore. you don't talk about love at all, not unless you're tearing it down.

he noticed the change during the last semester of freshman year. people whispered about your breakup, but no one knew the details. just that it ended and something in you shifted. like someone had quietly reached inside and flipped a switch — it became more evident when even the way you dress has changed. your light, gentle dresses were replaced by blacks and deep reds, structured silhouettes that made you look untouchable. strong. sharp. sometimes he wonders if you’re hiding behind those clothes or they just mirror what’s left…he wonders when exactly the world taught you to stop believing in forever.

“what made you say that?,” he asks finally, voice low, careful not to press too hard but needing to understand.

you hesitate, eyes not meeting his just yet. debating whether its safe to give this piece of yourself away. and maybe it was the vulnerability of the night. maybe it was your hormones messing with your brain, like you’ll tell yourself later. but right now, you find yourself answering him.

“it’s just…” you exhale, like the words are caught in your chest, “love doesn’t last. people swear it’s forever and then suddenly, it’s not. one day you’re holding hands and dreaming together, you have a ring on your finger and the next they’re telling you that you’re too much. too needy,” you blink slowly, memories flickering behind your eyes, “that he only loved me because it was easy. and the second it got hard, he left.”

mark stiffens beside you, “you were engaged?,” he asks, surprise threading through his voice.

“shocking, right?,” you force out a dry laugh, bitter around the edges, “i almost fell for the scam.” your voice is steady, each word carefully measured, telling the story without letting it touch you. but your eyes betray you, they've gone distant, unfocused, like you’re watching a memory you wish you could turn off. there’s a smile on your lips but it’s all muscle memory. empty. the kind of smile people put on when they’re used to pretending they're fine.

mark’s jaw tightens. there’s a sharp flare of protectiveness in his chest, something hot and furious aimed at the ghost of a man he’s never met.

you continue, voice barely above a whisper, “so yeah, spider-man, love, same category…fiction.”

the silence that follows is thick, heavy, but mark doesn’t rush to fill it. he sits in it with you, lets it stretch out between the two of you without trying to clean it up. the pain in your voice isn’t loud, but it’s there – woven through your words like thread through fabric. he doesn’t throw some cliche about how the right person will come along. does not insult you with hollow optimism that people usually responded with. he doesn't try to talk you out of your truth or tape over a wound he can't even see the full shape of.

instead he nudges your knee again, gentler this time. a small touch, reassuring.

“i don’t think you’re too much,” he says quietly, the words careful and real, “not even a little.”

you look at him then. you don’t say anything for a while, neither does mark. and he’s not sure if that was something he was even allowed to say. you’ve built so many walls that even kindness feels like trespassing…then, in true fashion, you break the weight with a teasing smile, “who’s your favorite spiderman anyway?,” you ask.

the shift it so perfectly timed, so you, that it makes mark huff a laugh. he knows its your way of giving you both room to breathe again and he's grateful for the shift.

“tobey,” mark says with zero hesitation.

you groan dramatically, hands flying to your face, “no way, everyone who says they’re favorite spiderman is tobey is blinded by nostalgia! his spiderman was a creepy stalker!,” you argue passionately.

you lower your hands just in time to see mark laugh…really laugh. the kind that crinkles his eyes and pulls a genuine sound from his chest and it makes something bloom in yours.

“okay well, who’s yours then?,” he asks playfully. “andrew.”

he scoffs, “nope, his peter parker was great but his spiderman was not ‘spidermanning’ at all!,” he argues back, the made-up word slipping out so confidently it makes your brows lift.

you roll your eyes, a smile on your lips, “i didn’t say i liked him for the spiderman of it all.”

“oh?” he says, eyes gleaming with curiosity, “then what?”

you shrug, slow and teasing, “he’s the prettiest one…and,” you lean in a little closer, mark watching you, “i like looking at pretty things.”

his smile falters for a split second, eyes flicking to your lips.

“do you now?,” he murmured, voice lower now, the space between your faces shrinking by the second.

“mhm,” you mutter and then, without overthinking it, you close the space and kiss him softly, slowly, carefully, like testing the weight of something fragile, unsure if it’s meant to be held at all. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. it’s not like any of the others you’ve shared before – not playful, not messy, not reckless. this one feels like stepping into something unknown.

it doesn’t last long. just a few seconds. just lingers enough to feel real.

when you finally break apart, neither of you speaks right away, just looking in each other’s eyes like you unlocked something dangerous. the stillness lingers, dense and a little too loud.

you're the one to break it, typical you, peeling the weight away with a crooked smile, “i’m still not down for period sex” you tease. he forces himself to laugh, trying to push away the tension that lingered in the air.

“fair enough,” mark says, standing slowly, “you should rest anyway and maybe lay off the tobey slander,” he says.

you laugh softly, leaning your head against the couch cushions as you watch him move around your apartment like he belongs here, “i’m right about him.”

he chuckles, grabbing his phone and keys, “text me if you need anything, seriously. even if it’s just to complain about life,” he says warmly, a small smile visible on his features.

“thanks for tonight, mark,” you say as you get up, stretching your limbs and walking him to your door.

he pauses in the doorway, like he wants to say something else, but instead he just nods, “of course, that’s what friends do.”

and then he leans in again, placing a soft kiss on your temple. his voice is quieter this time, almost tender, “goodnight, kitten.”

you freeze, just for a second, but your response comes automatically, “goodnight, mark”

and with that, he’s gone, the door closing with a soft click. you’re left in the quiet and for the first time in a long time, your apartment doesn’t feel quite so lonely. and still, despite the warmth lingering on your lips, despite the comfort of knowing someone cares, there it is, crawling up your spine and tightening in your chest — fear.

⟢

the walk back to the dream house was quiet. mark’s hoodie sleeves are pushed halfway up his arms but the cool night air doesn’t do much to ease the heat still lingering in his chest. the night loops in his head like an endless record.

the kiss. he’s never been kissed like that. like it was more than two lips touching, chasing the lust.

that kiss was cautious. it had weight. like it had been carved out of something deeper, something neither of you knew how to name. he was sure of it. it’s the way you looked at him, like you completely trusted him, even for just a second. and maybe it didn’t last. maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow and bury it under sarcasm and boundaries. but that look…that look is stuck under his skin now.

he exhales slowly, staring down at the sidewalk. his footsteps echoing in the quiet — you were vulnerable tonight. he knows that. he could feel it in the way you curled in on yourself when the cramps got bad, the cracks between your jokes, that look in your eyes when you talked about your ex. mark noticed it all. that’s the problem. because he doesn’t know what the kiss meant or if it even meant anything at all. maybe it was just comfort. a soft, fleeting thing you reached for in the moment. maybe you’ll wake up and decide it wasn’t real. if that’s the case, he’ll happily play along, laugh it off, bury it.

but his chest still feels tight. he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you said love was a fantasy. and you still kissed him that way. like he mattered. like he was more than just your friend, more than just a body in your bed.

his mind is all over the place. thoughts going back and forth. he swallows hard, jaw tightening. all this thinking wasn’t supposed to happen. you were never supposed to mean anything. for god’s sake, he was the one who said that you couldn’t fall in love with him with. he meant it, too. back then, it felt like the safest thing to say. a wall, not just for you but for him, too.

he doesn’t do love. he’s always been good at lines. at keeping things in neat boxes. clean. uncomplicated. no drama. bodies, not hearts. moments with no meaning, only pleasure. he knows how to care just enough to make it feel good and not enough for it to matter. he’s practiced, efficient, detached.

but something about tonight is cracking through that. and he’s not sure he’s ready to face it.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 14. monday.

when mark entered your apartment, he hadn’t known what to expect. he’d spent the entire weekend mentally pacing, replaying friday night over and over, dissecting every word, every glance, every breath between you. and then he’d forced himself to stop. to push any thoughts of you away, telling himself it didn’t mean anything.

but still, when you opened the door, his heart thudded in his chest like it hadn’t gotten the memo.

then you smiled, that same guarded expression, the one that never quite reached your eyes. you looked the same you had last week, composed, cool and out of his reach. he knew right then, that he was right. that moment was fleeting and completely over. erased.

“hey, earth to mark lee, you there?,” you wave your hand in front of him, snapping him out of his daydream.

“yeah, sorry, what was the question?,” he asked, blinking.

“dang dude, you weren’t lying when you said sex helps you focus,” you tease him. today was another no sex session, seeing as you were still on your period.

he chuckles, letting out a groan and burying his face in your pillows, “i can’t belive god gave you periods, this has been the longest week of my life.”

you sat cross-legged on your bed, mark sprawled out beside you, “i told you i can always give you a blowjob.”

his nose scrunches up, peeking at you from the pillow, “no. not after your last blowjob session.”

“it wasn’t that bad,” you feigned innocence.

“kitten,” he deadpanned, lifting his head to glare at you, “you edged me so hard, i cried.”

“and?” you grinned, shameless, “didn’t it make the orgasm like 10x better?”

“at what cost, though?,” he asked dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart, “i saw my soul leave my body.”

you laughed, reaching over to poke his side, “but you survived.”

“barely,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, sitting up, facing you now, “you really enjoy tormenting me, don’t you?”

“only when you make it so easy,” you said sweetly, “besides, you didn’t complain that much.”

mark let out a long exaggerated sigh, head tilted towards you, “you’re lucky i like you.”

it slipped out carelessly. there was a beat of silence. the two of you holding your breaths at the words he uttered out.

for a second, neither of you moved. mark cursed himself internally. really? now? after a weekend of telling himself it meant nothing…he says that? out of all the things he could’ve said? he really needed to get better at thinking things out before saying them.

the memory of friday night replays in your mind. the slow kiss, the quiet way you looked at each other, the parts of yourself you weren’t supposed to show. you didn’t know why you let it happen but you did. what you do know is that you crossed a line and you had to make things clear.

you shifted slightly, voice coming out softer than before, “listen, mark…about friday night,” you bring up and you feel him freeze slightly.

“i really am grateful for the snacks and having a friend there but…,” you hesitated, searching for the right words, “i was all up in my period feelings and did some stuff i usually wouldn’t...”

you glanced at him, “if that makes sense?”

“no, i get it,” he said quickly, too quickly. “don’t worry i didn’t read too much into it,” he lies.

“cool,” you said, giving him a sheepish smile, “so…we’ll just forget about it?”

he ignores the way you can’t say the word kiss. he ignores the way he can’t bring himself to say that word either. both of you dancing around the “stuff” that happened.

he looked at you for a beat, then cracked a grin, “forget about what?”

you chuckle, shoving his shoulder and reaching out for your notes, resuming the session like nothing happened. like your heart hadn’t skipped a beat. like his hadn’t just cracked a little more under the pressure of pretending.

before the silence could settle over you, you change the topic, “you know, you kinda remind me of peter parker.”

mark raises an eyebrow, amused, “oh yeah? how?”

you lean back, teasing, “you’re always acting like the weight of the world is on your shoulders but somehow manage to crack a joke when it counts.”

this surprises him a little bit. he hadn’t realized how much you could actually see through him during these past tutoring sessions. how close you’d been paying attention. he doesn’t dwell on it, afraid of what other feelings it may unlock.

“i didn’t know i was that dramatic,” he finally says, playing it off with a small laugh.

“you’re not,” you say, meeting his eyes for a brief moment, “but you carry more than you let on.”

mark looks away, lips pressing into a faint line. he wants to keep the mood light, to make another dumb spiderman joke but your words hit a little too close. and that unsettles him more than he cares to admit. he clears his throat, “well, does that make you mj or gwen?,” he flirts.

you smirk, “neither. i'm your guy in the chair.”

mark laughs, eyes crinkling, “you mean like ned?”

“exactly. reliable. sarcastic. smarter than you and absolutely not dying in anyone’s tragic love arc.”

“bold of you to assume,” he says with a grin, shaking his head. you grin back, flipping a page in your notebook. you go back to explaining the notes in front of you and he listens, nodding at the right times.

on the surface, everything settles back into easy rhythm — banter and bullet points. but under all the teasing and laughter, one thing stayed unspoken. neither of you had really forgotten. not even a little.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 16. wednesday.

to say mark was excited was a complete understatement. clearing things up with you absolutely helped, he wasn’t left wondering the maybe’s. he blamed the momentary feeling on that night and it was done. explained. buried deep in a box somewhere.

today was all about his reward and he was absolutely ecstatic. he’d been counting down to this ever since your little basketball game ended in his favor. he knew exactly what he wanted as soon as the proposition was brought up. this was his moment – his perfect payback for that blowjob that ended in tears and torment.

so when you asked him what he wanted and he replied with, “i want to cut tutoring short today and have my way with you,” you had no other option but to oblige.

which is how you ended up here now, seated between his legs, thighs parted, panties long gone. your slick glistened in the warm light of your bedroom, a blindfold wrapped securely around your head – completely open, completely at his mercy. the cloth stays firm over your eyes, heightening every sense. you feel everything. his breath on your shoulder, the heat of his thighs beneath yours, the stillness between touches. you sat there, waiting…then you felt it.

something cool and slender lightly tracing along the inside of your thigh. your breath catches, legs twitching at the unexpected contact, “what is that?”

mark hums thoughtfully, as if considering the question, “just something i found lying around.”

it moves again, gliding upward, skimming where you needed him most. he circles the object around your clit without pressure, ghosting enough to make you clench. you shift your hips, trying to chase the feeling, but he’s already pulling it away.

“mark,” you grit out, jaw tightening.

“shh,” he murmurs, nibbling on your ear, “let me enjoy my reward.” you swallow hard, heat pooling in your stomach. you were sure this torture was going to last forever and you knew he was doing this on purpose. teasing you to the edge, just like you did to him.

the thing, whatever it is, drags lightly over your folds now, collecting wetness as it goes, “so fucking wet and i haven’t even touched you yet,” he whispers beside you, making goosebumps rise throughout your neck. you’re about to snap a snarky remark when his fingers suddenly replace the object, two of them sliding through your slick folds with infuriating slowness, pressing just enough to build pressure but not nearly enough to satisfy.

“fuck,” you gasp, fingers clutching his thigh as your hips jerked. he lets you have his digits, inserting two of his fingers and curling them just where you need him the most but before you can even enjoy it, he pulls back.

you whine as he withdraws, leaving you empty and throbbing, “we’re just starting, kitten,” you hear the smirk in his voice and it’s absolutely annoying — to be vulnerable this way and have no control.

mark brings the mystery object back, the cool tip sliding up your folds again, this time more deliberately. you squirm, desperate for friction. the blindfold has turned your entire body into a nerve – every inch sensitive, every second unbearable. then you feel his hands again, large and warm, settling on your thigh, the other slipping into your shirt and gliding up your torso, fingers leaving a blaze of fire until he reaches your breast.

you inhale sharply when his fingertips ghost over one nipple, already peaked and begging for attention, “you’re always so sensitive here,” his voice cuts through the silence, your breathing becoming heavier and heavier. his thumb brushes over the bud, a whine slipping from your lips. he has you memorized by now. the little ticks that turn you on. which was a lot for mark, considering most of his past sexual partners had only been for one night.

something brushes over your nipple – cool, round, smooth. you’re not sure if its the same object and it’s driving you insane, “what the hell is that?,” you ask, your voice breathless. mark doesn’t answer this time, just littering kisses along your neck, letting the object speak for him. it circles your nipple slowly, deliberately, then he flicks it lightly, sharp enough to make you gasp and arch forward, your head resting against that space between his neck. his free arm comes up to your waist, keeping you locked against him.

“you’re not allowed to squirm yet,” he murmurs near your ear, voice thick with satisfaction. he switched to your other breast, teasing it with that same cold precision. the contrast between your flushed skin and the chill of the object is enough to make your toes curl. you needed more.

you writhe, frustrated, “mark, please,” you beg for something…anything.

“shhh kitten,” he soothes, mouth brushing the shell of your ear, “be patient.”

his mouth returned to your neck, warm and wet, while the mystery object rolled lazily across your breast. your aching cunt left throbbing and dripping. you feel the hard press of his cock through his sweats and still he makes no move to satisfy either of you. he trails lower, teeth grazing your shoulder and just when you think the cold object might return to your nipple, it doesn’t.

instead, his fingers return, sliding down your slick folds. two strokes. three. then gone again.

“mark,” you gasp, body twitching under the restraint of his arm. you can’t think of any other word but his name — so caught up in the thrill of it all.

“you keep saying my name like i’m gonna feel bad,” he says with a chuckle, “i’m just repaying you.” then he brings the cold object down again, dragging it teasingly along your inner thigh before brushing it just over your clit, making you shudder in his hold, as he smirks behind you.

“kitten, you wanna know what i’ve been using?,” he whispers, smug and quiet. you nod quickly, barely able to breathe. he brought it up in front of your face, knowing full well you couldn’t see it and said, clearly amused, “your pen.”

you groan, “there’s no way it feels that good,” you managed to say. he just laughed quietly, brushing your hair back from your face, “the power of a blindfold,” he whispers. you barely had time to process his words before he was shifting behind you, leaving you sitting on your bed alone. a mixture of confusion, excitement and slight fear at the thought of what he has planned.

mark makes his way around, standing at the foot of your bed as he watches, loving the way you had no idea what’s coming to you. his hand makes contact with your shoulder, making you jump slightly as he pushes you down to your sheets, your back making contact with your soft pillows. you sucked in a shaky breath, wonder traveling throughout your body. then he hovers over you, kissing the hollow of your throat as he carefully pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere, exposing your tits to the cool air. he lets his tongue graze, tracing a path down the center of your chest until his lips find your nipple again. you gasped as his mouth closed around it, sucking, warm and wet. the suction paired with the flick of his tongue in a rhythm that made your spine arch.

“fucking perfect,” he muttered against your skin, teeth grazing before he soothed the sting with another kiss. his hand moved to the other breast, thumb circling lazily around the peak, squeezing just enough to make your hips buck.

but he didnt move lower, “you like being edged, don’t you?,” he whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction.

you whimpered, nodding, desperate, frustrated.

“use your words, kitten,” mark demands.

“yes,” you gasped, “please, mark, just–,” your plea broke off into a cry when his mouth trailed lower, down your stomach, leaving goosebumps behind. he stopped just above your mound, breathing you in like you were the only thing in the world.

“you smell like heaven,” he praises. then his hands gripped your thighs, firm and possessive, pulling you open further – his mouth on you in a second, hot, wet and needy. his tongue dragged through your folds slowly, deliberately. one long, teasing lick. then another, circling your clit, keeping you on the edge. you moaned, loud and desperate, your hand flying to his hair instinctively. he groaned at the contact, encouraged. finally, he gave your clit the attention it had been begging for, flicking, sucking, licking until your thighs were trembling.

and just when your stomach starts to clench — he pulls back.

“no–,” you gasped, “don’t stop, please—”

but he had already moved his mouth, licking the inside of your thigh, soothing and tortuous all at once.

“not yet,” he said, voice dark and patient, “you don’t get to come until i say so.”

you could cry from how badly you needed him. he was relentless, bending your body to his rhythm, his pace. his tongue returned, more insistent now, fingers slipping inside you this time, curling just right and every time that heat started to spiral, his mouth would pull away, his rhythm would slow and the wave would slip just out of reach.

it was torture – delicious, devastasting torture.

your breath came in ragged gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly. the blindfold making it worse. every sound, every touch, every breath he took, every swipe of his tongue felt magnified. and mark was loving every second of it. the way he had all control under his fingertips.

“you keep sucking in my fingers,” he murmured, voice thick with arousal. “you wanna cum that badly, kitten?”

you nod furiously, broken whimpers slipping past your lips, your pride long gone. then you felt it again. that same, cool rounded object from earlier. your pen.

he dragged the tip of it along your folds, now slick and pulsing from his touch, watching the way your legs twitched with each pass, “bet you’ll never look at this thing the same again,” he whispered near your hip. the pen collects your dripping arousal, “such a mess,” he breathes out, tongue surprisingly latching onto your folds again, sucking your juices. you whimpered as he slides a finger inside you again, slower, deeper, making you feel every second of it.

“you feel how close you are?,” he asked, voice gravelly, dangerous. you nodded frantically, choking on a breath only for him to pull back again.

“mark, please, i’m sorry,” you cry out desperately. wanting so bad to finally be relieved. the edging was too much. your clit was throbbing so painfully and you needed him so badly. he leaves you untouched for a second too long, watching you squirm for him.

then with absolutely no warning, mark slaps his hard cock against your cunt, making you moan out in pleasure. he slides his member up and down your wet folds, teasing your entrance and for a moment you don’t even care that he’s not wearing a condom. his skin felt so fucking good againts yours. you just wanted him inside you. you felt the tip of him nudge against you again. but he didn’t push in. he just stayed there, teasing.

you whined, toes curling into the sheets, body arching up, “please….”

he chuckled, low, quiet, “i love hearing you beg,” he said, his tip brushing over your clit, solid and hot against your slick, “makes it real tempting to give in.”

“i could take you right now, kitten,” he whispered, voice wrecked with restraint, “you’d be so good for me, so ready,” he hums against your skin.

you gasped, barely holding onto your sanity, practically sobbing, “please do it, mark, please i need you,” you were soaked, throbbing, voice breaking with utter desperation — that was all he needed to hear. mark wraps his member and not even a second later he finally thrusts into you, sliding into your hole with ease. your body was so prepared for him, walls completely squeezing around his cock so perfectly, so warm.

he yanks off the blindfold from your face and for a moment the room spins with light and clarity until his brown eyes come into view. your tear-filled eyes meet his and the heat in his steals your breath. he was breathing just as hard as you are. just as worked up. he brings your legs up to your shoulders, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, holding on to him like he was your lifeline. he was in so deeply, his cock hitting that spot over and over again. you were trembling, panting hard, jaw clenching as you fought to keep your eyes open. mark hovered above you, his thrusts unrelenting, his own breath ragged, the heat between you unbearable. you moaned his name like it was the only word you’ve ever learned, your voice dissolving into desperate, broken sounds.

“i’m gonna—mark, i’m gonna…,” your grip on his shoulder tightens, nails digging into his skin.

“—go on kitten,” he growled in your ear, voice thick with hunger, “cum for me.”

that was it. the pleasure tore through you like a wave, your whole body arching as your orgasm finally hit you. hard. jaw going slack, vision blurring, eyes rolling back as you practically saw stars. the way your pussy pulsed around him sent mark over the edge, “fuck kitten, such a good girl,” he managed to say in between breaths, before he was groaning in your neck, spilling into the condom. his movements slowed as he rode it out, then he collapsed gently on top of you, both of you shaking, skin slick and flushed.

you stay there for a moment or two, trying to even your ragged breathing. then…laughter bubbled from your lips. light, uncontrollable, like something cracked open inside you and it sounds like music to his ears.

“what?” his head lifted slightly, brows drawn, cock still inside you.

you giggled again, still catching your breath, “h-holy shit, mark” you gasped, eyes glassy with aftershocks, “i don’t think i’ve ever came that hard before.”

he gave you that crooked, self-satisfied boyish smirk and you almost regret complimenting him. then slowly, he pulled out of you, making your body ache with the sudden absence.

carefully, he brushed the tears from the corner of your eyes, “you okay though? i wasn’t too much?”

your heart tripped in your chest. you hated that it did.

you nodded, keeping it casual, ignoring the way his concern made something twist painfully inside you, “yeah. i’m good.”

he nods, settling beside you as you laid there, still catching your breath, your limbs buzzing, body sore in a satisfying way. mark hadn’t moved much either, his arm casually draped over your thigh, chest rising and falling steadily with you. neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t awkward. it was warm. settled. easy in a way it probably shouldn’t have been. it was too dangerous. you needed to break it.

“i’m hungry,” you said, voice still scratchy.

mark glanced over at you, a brow raised, “i just gave you an orgasm of a lifetime and the first thing on your mind is food?”

you gave him a lazy grin, “we burned a lot of calories from that, we deserve carbs”

he didn’t comment on your use of we. or the way that there was a we now makes his heart skip a beat. but the fact that he liked the sound of a we was far worse. that box he buried somewhere deep inside, suddenly popping up.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, forcing out another laugh.

you reached for your phone on the nightstand, “pizza okay with you?,” and he realizes you’re inviting him to stay. you’re not kicking him out like you usually do after a session.

he pushes it a bit further, wanting to see how far this invitation goes “as long as i get to pick the movie this time.”

you narrowed your eyes at him like he’d stepped on thin ice and he’s afraid he pushed it a little too far, misread the moment, until you say, “and what movie are you picking?”

a smile curved his lips as he grabbed his shirt and sweats off the ground, putting it on, “spiderman. obviously,” he says, already making his way to your living room couch.

you blinked at him then grabbed the first clothes within reach, your shorts from the far corner and his hoodie slung over your desk chair, “which one?,” you called through your room, putting the clothes on.

“there’s only one right answer!”

“andrew’s?,” you teased, walking out of your bedroom. he froze for a second. you, in his hoodie, smiling like that. that same smile from freshman year. his brain short-circuited. you were making this whole forgetting thing really hard.

“hope you don’t mind,” you said with a small laugh, “i have no idea where you threw my shirt,” you chuckle.

“that’s fine,” he replied, maybe a little too fast, “and no not andrew’s”

you snorted, “fine, i’ll order pepperoni and you can fangirl over your web-slinging childhood hero,” you smirk, calling papa john’s.

mark grinned as he turned on the t.v. and started searching for the movie, “hey, that’s spiderman, protector of new york, thank you very much.”

you settled beside him a few minutes later, pizza box on the coffee table, movie playing, quiet jokes exchanged through bites of crust and cheese. somewhere between tobey maguire’s awkward charm and halfway through the pizza box, the space between you disappeared. this time, there was no gap. no careful leaning away. your thighs brushed his and neither of you moved. neither of you said anything. but maybe, just maybe, you both felt it — that same quiet something that had been growing since that friday night. still unspoken. still unnamed.

and mark realizes that he could get used to this.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 18. friday.

the door barely clicked shut before mark had his hands on you – rough, needy, all control. he didn’t waste a second. not a single hello, not a single warning. his mouth crashed into yours, all hunger and heat, urgent and commanding, steering you straight to the bedroom with the kind of focus only frustration could fuel.

“m-mark, what’s wrong?,” you managed to ask, concern laced in your voice.

“need you. now,” he growled, voice low, flat with no room for playfulness. you didn’t even make it to the bed. he spun you, yanked your shorts down, shoved you onto your desk chair. one hand ripping open a condom, the other dragging your panties aside and in one swift motion, he was inside you.

you gasped at the intrusion, fingers gripping your desk table, not at all prepared for him. there was no easing in, no pause. just raw, relentless need. and he didn’t care. he couldn’t care. he had too much to burn off. he thrusted in and out of your hole with a desperate rhythm that had you gasping his name between moans. the sound of skin slapping echoing through your bedroom walls.

“fuuuck, kitten, just what i needed,” he groaned, fingers digging into your hips like he was holding on for life. you were sure his fingerprints would mark your skin. he pulls you back onto him with every snap of his hips, like he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get close enough.

“mark, fuck,” you gasped, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. but he didn’t slow down. he was absolutely locked in, chest heaving, only focused on reaching that high.

“everything’s fucked,” he muttered between gritted teeth, slamming into you hard, “i just needed this…needed you.”

you felt him twitch inside you, pace stuttering for half a second, just enough to send that familiar heat spiraling through your core. the roughness, the force, the way he clung to you like you were the only thing that mattered – it pushed you straight to the edge. your body tensed, a cry spilling from your lips as your orgasm washed over you. you clenched incredibly tight around him and that’s all it took.

“shit, i’m cumming,” he groaned, choking on the sound as he slammed in one last time, hips jerking, fingers still digging into your flesh like he’d break without the contact.

for a moment, all that filled the room was the sound of your breathing – heavy, wrecked, uneven. he stayed there, buried deep, his forehead resting against your back, arms still wrapped around your waist like letting go would make the world crash in again. his breath fanned hot across your skin, heavy and uneven but slowly starting to settle.

you blinked through the haze, heart still racing, legs barely steady beneath you. you turned your head slightly, voice hoarse but gentle, “mark, what was that?”

he didn’t answer at first. just exhaled, slow and ragged. then he pulled out with care, discarding the used condom and pulling his sweatpants back up. his hands steady you as he gently placed your panties back in place. he turned you to face him, guiding you to sit, and then leaned in to press a kiss to your lips – soft, slow and achingly tender. the complete opposite of everything that had come before.

“are you okay?,” you asked, reaching out to cup the side of his face, searching for the answers in his eyes. he allowed himself to lean into your touch. almost like he needed it to breathe, eyes fluttering close for a second.

“jeno got in a fight,” he sighs heavily, voice low, almost defeated.

he sank into his knees in front of you, resting his head in your lap. without thinking, your fingers immediately thread through his hair like they belonged there, like this was normal. his arms wrapped around your waist with quiet desperation, “it got recorded, reached the dean in seconds and i had to go clean it up, make sure we don’t get shut down,” he says tiredly.

you just listen to him, letting him unravel.

“and finals are on monday, i think i’m ready…we’ve been studying really well, my quizzes went okay but it’s also my last chance…if i don’t pass these classes, i'm off the basketball team.”

his arms tightened around your waist like he was bracing himself.

“it’s just been…a lot, everyone thinks i’ve got it all together. they don’t even know i’ve managed to screw it all up…i’m failing my classes, the team…everyone,” his voice broke on the last word, barely more than a whisper.

his eyes shut again, like he couldn’t bear to have anyone see him like this — mark, who was everyone’s favorite. mark, who always made confidence look effortless. mark, who everyone admired, who never looked tired. mark, who was here, on your bedroom floor, falling apart.

and you realized now just how much he’d been carrying and how alone he must have felt doing it. he was a mirror of your own reflection. so you ask him the one question you wished people asked you.

“do you want to talk about it?,” you whispered, thumb softly brushing along his cheek.

his jaw tensed beneath your touch and you thought he might pull away. shove the vulnerability back down and wrap himself in that playful charm he wore so easily when you were sitting across from him at study session or tangled up in the sheets. but instead, his shoulders slumped. he starts, voice low and rough, “i thought i could fix it, just grind harder, push through like i’ve always been able to…but things just kept stacking up. practices, papers and now this thing with the fraternity.”

you’d seen the cracks, of course. you weren’t oblivious. him being late, the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders stay tense no matter how relaxed he tried to seem. but he always played it off and you never pushed.

“i couldn’t tell anyone,” he continued, softer now, “i’m the leader, the co-captain…i'm supposed to know what to do. everyone leans on me, if i fall apart what happens to the rest of them?.” he lets out a bitter, humorless laugh.

“and i couldn’t tell you. you’re already helping me so much with tutoring and the sex and i didn’t want to drag you into my shit. especially since…this thing between is isnt supposed to include this, right?”

you didn’t respond right away because he was right — there were walls between you that needed to stay up. this was supposed to be easy. you were supposed to be each other’s safe option. the ones who didn't come with emotional trauma. the ones who wouldn’t ask for more. the ones who never pried, just notes, flashcards and casual sex without the weight of feelings or expectations.

“we’re still friends mark,” you said gently, “and friends don't let you go through the hard stuff alone.”

your voice was soft, but steady. you offered a small, honest smile and he finally looks up, meeting your eyes, letting himself be seen. he didn’t say anything after that, just looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

you didn’t break the gaze, didn’t try to fill the silence. you just stayed there, fingers still gently curling in his hair. letting him be here. letting him breathe. and he did – his head rested in your lap, arms still loosely wrapped around your waist like he didn’t quite know how to let go. didn’t want to let go. you could feel the weight of him, every little thing he’s been holding in, slowly settling.

no one rushed to define what this moment meant. no one tried to make a joke to cut the lingering tension — it was just quiet. stretching between you full of things unsaid. of a certain kind of understanding that didn’t need to be spoken out loud. and for now, this was enough.

just two people, sitting in their own wreckage, breathing together, pretending they weren’t crossing a line.

eventually, you felt the need to offer him something more than quiet comfort. something normal. something safe.

“what do you say, we skip tutoring session for the day and watch spiderman 2, i can order chinese this time?,” you say, finally breaking the quiet.

his eyes flicked up to yours. there was a pause, like the suggestion took a second to land. then slowly, the tension in his face bagan to ease, a smile tugging on his lips, “and what about finals week?”

“mark you know it, you’ve gotten every single question right our last two sessions,” you reassure him, “there’s not a single doubt in my mind you’re going to pass,” you smirked, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

that pulled a real breath of relief from him, a soft laugh, muffled against your lap, “we’re watching tobey’s spiderman 2, right?”

for the rest of the night, there was no tutoring, no expectations, no pressure. just honey walnut shrimp, fried rice, spider-man swinging through new york city and two people, curled up on the couch, who weren’t quite sure what they were but certain that this comfort, this closeness, was something they wanted.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 20. sunday.

mark: dude

mark: [1 image]

mark: saw this and thought of you

kitten: ???

kitten: mark. that’s just a cat.

mark: she has your eyes!!

kitten: bro 😭😭

kitten: she looks like she’s ready to attack u

mark: exactly

mark: just like you! 😼

kitten: seek help

kitten: and good luck on your finals markkk

kitten: you're gonna kill it

mark: what’s my reward if i pass? 🫣

kitten: freedom from me 🙂‍↕️

kitten: sex with anyone you want! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

kitten: any day you want!! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

mark stared at your texts, thumbs hovering over the screen, his grin being wiped off — it was exactly the kind of thing you’d say. playful, detached, safe. like he hasn’t seen the most vulnerable parts of you. like you haven’t seen the worst parts of him.

his stomach churns in a funny way. it didn’t hit him until now that passing his classes also meant your tutoring sessions were over. no more flashcards, no more learning each other’s bodies, no more movie nights and greasy take out foods. no more you.

he set his phone down beside him, letting his head fall back against the pillow. suddenly, the finish line didn’t feel like a victory lap. it felt like a goodbye. and sure, you would still be around, he would still see you in passing, on campus, in random parties – you would still be his friend.

the word leaves a sour taste in his mouth. if he was being completely honest, he didn’t want to stop seeing you. he didn’t want this to end just because the excuse to stay had run out. he wanted to be on your couch, watching spiderman. you still had six of them to go. he wanted the greasy takeout, the shared silence, the casual way your leg would brush against his like it didn’t mean everything.

he wanted to keep learning you. your favorite color, your favorite songs, your favorite everything until there was nothing left to learn. and even then, when all the learning is done, he just wanted to be there.

he wanted to be allowed to stay. to be able to wrap his arms around you and not wonder if he’s crossing a line. to show up with all your favorite snacks, and this time he knows what they are. to kiss you and not feel that sick, sinking guilt in his stomach when it meant more to him than it ever should have.

he started typing: what if i don’t want freedom from you?

he stared at it for a second. then deleted it.

typed again: sooo i still get to bother you after finals, right?

he deleted that one too.

mark: haha, nice 👍

he sighed, tossing his phone face-down onto the bed like that would somehow quiet the tightness in his chest.

your phone buzzed again. his response felt off or maybe it was just all in your head. you shook the thoughts away and turned back to your laptop, reviewing for your own classes.

you weren’t going there. you couldn't.

you refuse to be too much again. too needy.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 21. monday.

when mark stepped out of his last class of the day, he found you immediately, leaning against the wall, a drink in your hand, smiling at him.

before he could even think about it, his feet were already moving, carrying him, each step closing in towards you as he pulled you into a hug. his face nestles in the crook of your neck, a quiet sigh of relief slipping past his lips. he just wanted to stay here for a while. wrapped in the calm only you seemed to bring.

you froze, just for a moment. the hug catches you off guard. you’ve never been this touchy in public. you could feel the eyes on you, see a few raised brows in your peripheral vision. still, after a beat or two, you gave in, arms looping around his waist, one hand still gripping the cup of milk tea you got for him.

“it wasn’t that bad, was it?,” you murmured near his ear. he chuckles against your neck, the breath of air tickling before leaning back just enough to look at you, his hands still lingering on your hips like he’d forgotten to let go.

“i’m pretty sure i aced it,” he said, all confidence and charm.

you raise a brow, “so why did you just hug me like the world was ending?”

his smirk flickered, replaced by something quieter, heavier “you said once i passed, this would be over.”

he tried to keep it light, but the words tasted bitter, “figured, i should take what i can while i still can.”

you push away the feeling rising in your throat, glancing down at the drink in your hand, shoving the emotion aside “here, i got this for you, a mini reward.”

he takes it with a soft laugh, fingers brushing against yours, just a moment too long. his eyes stayed on you as he took a sip and something about the way he looks at you makes your chest twist — it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. not in daylight. not out here, in the open, where it could be mistaken for something real.

“people are staring at us,” you murmured, gaze dropping.

he doesn’t even glance around them, “let them.”

you tried to deflect, lips tugging into a smirk “what? and ruin your chances with all your girls?”

but he didn’t laugh. he didn’t play along. didn’t take the out this time.

“maybe i only want one girl.”

the breath caught in your throat. your heart stuttered. you looked up at him, eyes searching, desperate to find some hint of irony, some trace of a grin. anything that would let you write it off.

“hmm,” you force out a chuckle, thin and cracked, “you? mr. i don’t go exclusive,” you teased, your voice barely holding steady.

he smiled, but he didn’t deny it. that was when the panic set in.

“i have to go, i still have a class to get to,” and before he could respond, you were already walking away. you didn’t look back. you couldnt.

mark stayed where he was for a while, just watching your figure get smaller and smaller, drink in his hand, feeling the warmth of your body still clinging to his skin. people moved around him in chatter, footsteps on concrete, but it all blurred.

he meant it — he didn’t just let those words slip for no reason. he’d thought about it all night, maybe longer, and when the words came out, they didn’t surprise him. and it didn’t surprise him either how quiet you went, how fast you looked away, how quickly you pivoted back to safe ground, barely entertaining the thought.

you were the girl who didn’t believe in love. he knew that. and you could continue pretending that this was nothing. you could continue to shove it down with a joke, whatever you needed to do to keep him at arm’s length.

but he was done playing along. he wasn’t going to pretend anymore.

he wanted you to have all his mondays, wednesdays and fridays. even the tuesdays and thursdays. and every last goddamn saturdays and sundays. if you’d let him.

⟢

mark’s words echoes in your ears, clear and sharp and impossible to shake as you lay in your bed, wide awake.

you replay the moment in your head, over and over. the way he held you like you were something to hold onto. the way his fingers didn’t let go right away.

the way your heart betrayed you.

you hated how easy it would be to believe him. to want more. to hope. again.

but love had already burned you. already ruined you. it hollowed you out, left you scattered in pieces you barely recognized. you gave and gave until there was nothing left to give and even then, you still tried to be enough. you made yourself smaller, more manageable, easier to love. and you hated it. hated who you became when love took over – clingy, dependent, pathetic, insecure.

the kind of person who lost herself in someone else’s orbit and called it devotion. the kind of person who mistook being needed for being desired. the kind of person who became the version they needed until the real you felt like a distant memory.

it took everything to rebuild yourself from the wreckage love left behind. you had to learn how to be alone again. how to stop apologizing for needing anything at all. you had to teach yourself to exist without someone else’s hands holding you together.

you swore to yourself you’d never be that girl again.

but here you are, heart stuttering at a single sentence from a boy who was never supposed to matter this much. all your careful walls cracking, your breath catching, body already leaning toward him like muscle memory.

and even after all the warning signs going off in your head, every scar whispering don’t, you can’t help but want him.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 23. wednesday.

there was a knock on your door. you didn’t have to look through the peephole to know who it was.

you consider not opening it. pretend you weren’t home. an internal conflict going on between your mind and your heart. one half of you aching for him, the other half gripping onto the remaining boundary you had left.

you sigh, dragging your feet across the door, fingers hesitating on the knob.

“kitten, i know you’re there, the light is on,” mark’s voice announces through the other door. the nickname didn’t feel harmless anymore. it felt like a hand reaching through a door you were trying desperately to seal shut. a reminder of the closeness you’d let happen. the thing you swore wouldn’t need again.

“i brought food,” he added, tone lighter this time. like this could be another normal night of movies and food and silence where feelings should go.

you hated how much you wanted it. hated how you unlocked the door and pulled it open, meeting the brown warm eyes that was so dangerous. he was in one of his hoodies that always looked too comfortable, takeout in his arms with an expression that you couldn’t quite read. or maybe you didn’t want to.

“i thought we could watch spider-man 3, it’s the last tobey one,” he said, raising the food like it was some sort of offering.

you stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in and he walked in like he always did. like he belonged here, in your space. he removed his shoes, placed everything on the coffee table, sat on his side of the couch like everything was normal. like nothing happened. like those words didn’t leave his mouth and had you stuck on him ever since. like he hadn’t said something too big for this setup you had.

and you let him. you followed the script too. you dimmed the lights, grabbed the blanket from the side of the couch and pulled it over both of your legs, hit play on the movie.

for a while, neither of you said a word. until the movie reached a lull and you realized not a single joke has been said between you. you sneak a look at him only to find he was already looking at you.

“why are you looking at me like that?,” you whisper into the night air.

“like what?,” he deflected, smile barely there.

you raise a brow, giving him a pointed look, but your heart is already thudding, “like that,” you murmur.

mark’s smile fades into something quieter. something real. his eyes didn’t leave yours, “maybe i’m just trying to memorize you,” he said softly, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for days. it was quiet and honest. and it wrecked you.

your chest tightened. heat crept up your neck, blooming beneath your skin, but it wasn’t the good kind. it was panic, nostalgia, longing, everything you’d spent years trying to outrun. you blinked fast, trying to swallow the ache, the confusion, the hope. you couldn’t hold his gaze.

then his hand moved, gentle, almost afraid, thumb brushing over your thigh, “does this really have to end after finals?,” he asked. his voice wasn’t playful. there was something almost broken in it. something that wanted more.

you look down at his hand. it’s warm. steady.

you forced your voice into something light, something distant, “what do you mean mark?,” you play dumb, “you can still come over, we can still hang out and watch movies.”

“you know that’s not what i mean, y/n,” his voice cut clean through you. he looked at you like you held the whole world and you hated it. because you’ve seen that look in someone else’s eyes before and you remember how that story ended.

“i want you.” he said. he’s always been upfront, the kind of guy who goes for exactly what he wants. honest. no confusion. he wasn’t going to stop that just because what he wanted now was a little different than usual.

“—not just the movie nights. i want to be able to kiss you without wondering if i’m crossing the line. i want to hold your hand. i don’t want to have to leave.”

you could hear it in his voice, that he meant every word. that he was laying himself bare. your lungs were full of things you’ve never said. fears you never voiced.

“do you want me because you want me,” you whispered, “or because you need me?”

the room went still. mark blinked, caught off guard. his face twisted in confusion. he didn’t understand the question. “what’s the difference?”

you nodded once, slowly, even though he didn’t get it. especially because he didn’t get it. that was all the confirmation you needed. the quiet confirmation of every fear you've been carrying. your thoughts spiraled, fast and breathless – he saw you as the person who kept him from falling apart, not the person who could be loved on her own terms. you didn’t want to be a need. you wanted to be a choice. wanted to be loved for your fire, your flaws, your silence, your mess. all of it.

you pulled the blanket off, stood up, walked toward the kitchen under the disguise of grabbing water but you really just needed the distance, needed to breathe.

behind you, mark didn’t move. the space where you’d just been now empty and echoing. the movie played on, some forgotten scene washing the walls in flickering color, fading into the background. all he could hear was the question that you’d asked. the silence that followed after he said the wrong thing. the way you walked away like you were holding yourself together with a string.

he stood slowly, following you into the kitchen, footsteps soft like he was afraid he’d scare you off if he made too much noise. you were standing there, back to him.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice low, careful.

when you didn’t respond, he continued, “i don’t need you like a fix,” he stepped closer, gently, slowly. and then, he lets his confessions stumble into the night air. all of the words he’d been dying to tell you.

“i want you like—,” his voice broke slightly, “like i want to wake up with you next to me, i want to know your favorite things, i want your sarcasm, your bad jokes, i want to be the one you call when your day’s gone to shit or when someone tells you a funny story and you just have to share it with someone, i want all the parts you hide. that’s what i meant.”

he was so close now. you closed your eyes and it terrifies you how much you wanted that too.

“i’ve been through this before, mark,” you said, barely above a whisper, “i gave someone everything and he only loved me because he needed me, because it was easy at first. not the real me. not the mess. not the scared, guarded, overthinking, too-much me.”

mark stepped closer until there was barely space between you.

“y/n, i’m not him,” he says, voice full of conviction, “let me prove it. if it takes time, i’ll wait. if you need space, i’ll give it. but please stop acting like none of this is real, stop acting like this was all just tutoring and sex. don’t shut me out because someone else couldn’t handle you. because i can. i want to.”

you stared at the floor. every wall you’d built over the years was trembling in your chest, all of them threatening to collapse and you were desperately trying to keep them together. he was saying everything you’d ever needed someone to say. yet you can’t find it in yourself to believe him.

your fear was louder than your hope.

“i need space,” you breathed. it was all you could manage. your voice almost gave out on the last word.

mark stilled, his throat bobbed as he swallowed. then he stepped back. just once. and said, gently, “okay.”

he didn’t try to kiss you or hold you or close the space between you with anything physical. and that, more than anything, told you this wasn’t about need.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 25. friday.

the knock came again. you hadn’t expected it, your heart climbing straight into your throat.

you hadn’t spoken since that night. you told him you needed space and to his credit, he gave it. though as soon as he left you wanted him back. you couldn’t even understand your own emotions anymore.

he didn’t call. didn't text and even though it’s only been two days — the silence had been deafening.

your hand hovered near the doorknob again, just like it had before. like you were caught in a loop.

“y/n?,” his voice was softer this time. not playful, not teasing, just quiet and raw, “i…i got my results.”

you closed your eyes, just listening to his voice and the way he was able to shut down all the other voices in your head.

“i haven’t checked it yet,” he added after a beat, “i didn’t want to do it alone.”

something in you cracked and you opened the door. mark stood there, phone in hand, eyes tired and bloodshot like he hadn’t slept well in days. he didn’t step in this time. he just looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. you didn’t say anything. just stepped aside, letting him in. he walked in slowly, like he was afraid he might wake something fragile in the room. you followed him to the couch, sat next to him, close enough to touch but not touching.

he sat with his phone in his palm, screen still black, staring at it.

“just open it,” you said quietly, finally breaking the silence.

he turned to you, eyes searching, “i can’t do it,” he says, handing you the phone “you open it for me.”

you grab it from him, clicking the school’s app and reloading the screen, waiting for the results. the second felt too long, mark’s legs anxiously bouncing, you looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t read and his throat catches.

then in one second, your grin grew wider, “you passed!,” you cheered, laughter bubbling from your lips. he hasn’t realized how much he missed that sound until now. the past few days have definitely been an emotional turmoil.

mark blinked, “i..i did?,”

you nodded, laughing again, eyes shining, “you did, mark! look,” you say, shoving the phone in his face.

for a beat, he just stared at you, like he didn’t quite believe it. then it all hit him at once, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding finally exhaled. relief, pride, disbelief all crashing into his chest in one wave.

and before he could stop himself he pulled you into his lap in a mini victory, both of you laughing, excited, happy. his arms wrapped around you tight, burying his face into your shoulder like this was the only place he ever wanted to be. you hug him just as tight, now straddling him, arms curled around him as you both bask in his victory, your laughter’s harmonizing in the air.

after a few seconds, your body relaxed into his and for the first time in days, it felt easy again, natural. like muscle memory. like this was where you both belonged.

“i knew you could do it,” you murmured near his ear, voice soft. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still holding onto your side like didn’t want to let go yet.

and maybe it was the adrenaline in your system. maybe it was the look on his face. or maybe it was the way his hands lingered on your waist. but you didn’t think.

you leaned in and kissed him.

it was gentle, like asking a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to. he kissed you back with no hesitation, no second guessing. just the feeling of your lips in his, warm and certain.

mark’s hand cup your jaw like you were something breakable and important all at once. there was a slight tremble in his touch, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him this close. terrified that one wrong move would send you running.

the kiss wasn’t desperate, it wasn’t rushed. it was everything that hadn’t been said, missing each other in a way neither of you had admitted.

your hand curled into the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you steady. your body swayed forward without permission, knowing what it wanted before your mind could catch up. his forehead dropped to yours and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“i missed you,” you whispered, voice shaking. his eyes fluttered shut at the words, something raw flickering across his features. he kissed you again, slow and intentional. like he needed you to feel every unsaid thing he did not know how to say.

the kiss deepened, soft lips parting, breath mingling. his hand moved down, tracing your spine as he pulled you closer and every inch of your body hummed with anticipation. you tugged on his black shirt, tugging it over his head. you helped each other undress with quiet urgency, fingertips brushing skin, lips reconnecting in between.

mark grabs your thighs, gently lifting you up and turning you over to lay you down on the couch. he hovered over you, eyes dragging slowly down the length of your body, memorizing every line, every curve.

“you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, brushing your hair from your forehead.

your throat tightened.

he trailed kisses over your jaw, your neck, the slope of your shoulder, your breasts. every kiss feeling like a promise. his hands were everywhere, trailing over your waist, the dip of your hip, down your thigh, slow and warm and reverent. he took his time. worshipped every inch like he didn't want to miss a second of this.

he knew exactly where to touch you. knew the spots that ignited that fire in your stomach. he pushes your panties to the side and when his mouth finally found the place between your legs, you gasped, back arching. he groaned at the sound, at the taste of you, gripping your thighs gently, keeping you open for him. he watched your every reaction, paid attention to all of your sinful moans like it was his favorite song. his tongue moved, licking and circling and sucking until you were gasping his name, eyes fluttering shut, legs shaking around his shoulders.

your fingers laced through his, grabbing onto him like he was the last thing keeping you there. and when you came, it hit hard, head thrown back, toes curling. he stayed right there, drawing it out, licking through every wave. he kissed his way back up your body, slow and open mouthed until you pulled him back to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“mark,” you whispered, breathless, “bedroom.”

you didn’t have to say it again. mark grabbed your thighs, picking you up with ease, his bare chest warm against yours, legs wrapped around him, heartbeat thudding in rhythm with your own as he carried you to your bedroom. the air between you is charged and fragile in a way it had never been before. as soon as your back hit the mattress, you pulled him down to meet you. lips meeting again. but it wasn’t like the other times. there was no reckless rush, no frantic need. this kiss was deeper. slower. like he wanted to taste every part of you that had been out of reach until now.

his weight settled over you, grounding, familiar but all too different. he kissed you like he was afraid this might be the last time. touching you like he was memorizing you all over again, not your body, he already knew that – but you.

the way you sighed when his fingers brushed over your hips. the way your breath hitched when his lips settled over that sensitive spot below your ear. the way your hands roamed over his back, curling at the base of his spine like you didn’t know how to keep him close enough.

then suddenly, he stopped. bracing himself on his forearms, forehead pressed to yours, “wait,” he murmured, breathing hard, like it physically hurt to not be touching you.

you blinked, disoriented by the sudden break in heat as he curses under his breath, “i-i didn’t bring a condom…i didn’t expect to–,”

“i-i should have some,” you turned quickly, reaching for the drawer of your nightstand only to find your box of condoms empty.

you looked at him. he looked at you. a beat of silence passing in between you.

his hand found yours, warm brown eyes boring into yours, “we don’t have to.”

“do you want me?,” your voice cracked a little and that’s when you realized your throat was tight, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“of course i do, kitten,” he said, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, “but i want you, not just this.”

“i want you, too,” you whisper like you were sharing a secret. his breath hitched. whole body stilling. you saw the moment he gave in, the exact second his restraint cracked.

“i-i’ll pull out,” he mumbled, still trying to be careful.

“i’m on the pill mark,” you said softly, “you can stay inside.” something in him faltered, his breath hitched, eyes darkening. he kissed you again, slower than before, more tentative, like he needed to make sure you meant it.

he lines himself up against your core, giving you one last look for confirmation and when you nod, granting him permission, he finally gave in to what you both wanted. he slid into you slowly, carefully, his forehead pressed to yours, breaths tangling. you felt the tremble in his arms, the shudder that worked through him as he sank fully into you – making you feel full, whole, complete.

you both stilled, letting the moment settle.

you’d done this before. countless times. fast, rough, unspoken. but it had never felt like this. this felt like new territory. this felt like falling.

this wasn’t about sex. this was about every word you’d left unsaid.

your hands roamed up his back, fingernails grazing over the muscles there and his body responded to every touch, arching into you slightly. you could feel every vein on his cock, every twitch, every pulse. he moved slowly, deeper than he had before, watching your face for every flicker of reaction.

mark’s hand came up to brush the hair from your cheek, as he littered kisses from your cheekbones, along your jaw, every inch of skin he could find, “i was made for you” he whispered.

your chest ached, eyes burned. you didn’t know what to do with those words so instead you pulled him closer and kissed him hard. desperate to shut him up. to shut yourself up. to make the ache go away. every movement was slow, sensual, too vulnerable. every inch of your skin between you whispering i missed you, don’t leave again, please feel what i’m feeling.

his hand laced with yours, fingers locking tight, fitting together like two connecting pieces of a puzzle. it was all too much. the way he stayed close, nose brushing your cheek. the way he murmured your name under his breath like it was the only word he knew.

you whispered his name when that coil in your stomach started to tighten, the pressure ready to be released, tension curling through your body. he kissed your temple, your cheekbone, your mouth, over and over again as you came undone beneath him. your legs trembled, breath hitched, back arching as he talked you through it, murmuring praises in your ear.

he followed soon after, body shuddering against yours as he gave in, marking your walls, a grunt of your name spilling from his lips. and even then, he didn’t let go of your hand. he stayed inside you long after, face buried in the curve of your neck, body heavy over yours in the best way. neither of you said anything, just basking in the warmth of each other’s bodies.

you’ve never felt fuller. the feeling of skin on skin. of a truth too big to name yet.

and when he pulled out, you felt the loss of him like a jolt. your body throbbed, empty and aching. he reached for the tissues on your bedside table, gently wiping away the mess you two made.

you swallowed hard, “mark-”

his eyes searched yours, desperate and open and unguarded in a way you’d never seen before. he was just as scared as you. scared that you would push him away again, “please,” he begs, “don’t make me leave.”

“i don’t know how to do this,” you said finally, voice barely above a whisper, “i don’t know how to accept this.” you couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word. that one word lingering in both of your tongues.

mark’s face softened, something inside him cracking at your words. he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, “we can figure it out,” he says, “but we don’t have to figure it all out tonight…for tonight let's just…stay here.”

your eyes stung. he wasn’t asking for promises. he wasn’t demanding answers. he was just asking you not to run. not yet. you nodded and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. neither of you said anything after that. he shifted beside you, pulling you into his arms, your body curling naturally into the space against his chest. one of his hands wrapped around your back, the other held your hand like he was scared you would just disappear.

you laid there, wrapped in him, your heart a mess of silence and scars. listening to the beat of his heart. trying to believe this could be real.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered into his skin.

“you already do,” he murmured, raw and honest, brushing his lips to your hair.

“i’m sorry.”

“there’s nothing to be sorry for, kitten. i’d rather be hurt with you than feel nothing without you,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. your eyes fluttered closed at that, too tired to hold everything in your chest. too afraid of what would happen when morning came. but for right now, in this moment, you let yourself stay.

and somewhere between his breathing and the ache in your chest, you fell asleep in his arms, tangled up in a mess of limbs, heartbreak and that word you both can’t say.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 26. saturday.

mark woke up to the soft morning light filtering in through your bedroom window, stretching across the sheets like a quiet whisper. the space beside him cold. his hand reached out before his eyes even opened, instinctively searching for you, but the space was empty, only leaving behind the shape of your figure.

his brows furrowed as he sat up slowly, blanket slipping off his chest. the room felt too still. like the warmth had left with you. he got up, heart tightening as his bare feet hits the floor, pulling on his sweats as he stepped into your living room — empty.

no note. no text. no sound of the shower. just silence. the kind of silence that presses on your ribs and makes everything feel heavier than it should.

mark exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. this wasn’t new – this disappearing act of yours, distant and cold. but it hurt more today. especially after last night. after they way you kissed him like you meant it. the way you held him like you wanted him. the way you made love to him like you loved him.

he sat down on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. the victory of passing his finals felt like a faded memory now. and maybe you were just getting breakfast? maybe you were getting coffee? maybe you went out for a quick walk? but deep down, he knew better.

because when someone leaves without saying goodbye, it’s never just about getting coffee – it’s about fear. about retreat. about trying to stuff last night back into that box. a box where it doesn’t fit anymore.

he didn’t know what would happen next but he made you a promise and he’s determined to keep it. even if you never let him this close again. even if this was the last night he’d get to love you the way he wanted to. but he wouldn’t push. he wouldn’t beg. he wouldn’t ask you to feel more than you were ready to. he knew your walls were built from heartbreak and survival and he would never try to tear them down.

but he’ll show up — quietly, steadily, solid where you expected everyone to vanish. he wouldn’t ask for anything in return. not your love, not your certainty, not even your presence. just the chance to exist nearby. just the permission to care.

you didn’t have to earn his love by loving him back.

and if someday you turned around and realized you didn’t want to be alone anymore. he’d be here, welcoming you with open arms.

⟢

you hadn’t meant to leave like that. not really.

you told yourself it was just a short walk. just some air. just to clear your head before the morning got too loud and the reality of your actions settled in too deep.

your lips still felt the ghost of his. your skin still hummed with the way he touched you like he knew you — not just the version you showed him on movie nights and tutoring sessions, but the messy, terrified, too much version you’d spent years trying to hide. he kissed you like he wasn’t afraid of her. and that pushed you further down your fears.

you didn’t know if you were allowed to believe in it. so you left. not to hurt him. never too hurt him. but to protect yourself. protect him from you. to build the distance before you both could fall all the way in.

you couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his face when you told him he passed — a mixture of excitement and bittersweet emotion clearly on display. the way he hugged you like you were home. and then, god, you kissed him. and for the first time in forever, kissing someone didn’t feel like an escape. you swallowed hard. you were so afraid of these emotions. of needing him.

you went back home when the sun was down, mark nowhere to be seen, except for a note left on your coffee table, written in mark’s handwriting:

“call me if you need me.”

just simple words that made your chest ache.

if. not when.

he wasn’t expecting you to need him. wasn’t asking you to lose yourself again, to shrink, to bleed out the softest parts of you just to keep him. he wasn’t trying to save you or fix you or unravel you for the sake of making you his.

he left you a choice, control fully in your hands. a door, cracked open.

if you need me.

not a condition. not a plea. just kindness wrapped in restraint. not loud or overwhelming. not all-consuming. just patient. just quiet. just there.

ᓚᘏᗢ one week later. may 3. saturday.

you never contacted him. you didn’t know how to face him.

some days, you’d go home to take-out waiting for you by the door, still warm, like he’d just left. there were messages left in your phone. messages that you read over and over again, finger hovering above the keyboard. a reminder that mark was still there. that he still cares.

you just didn’t know what to do with that.

“c’mon y/n, come to the party at the wayv frat tonight,” your best friend, yeri, says through the phone, her voice bright and pleading.

“yeri, i don’t really feel like partying,” you sigh, voice low and dull.

“y/n, you can’t push us away too, we’re your friends,” she says more firmly now.

you told her all about it a couple nights ago, over the fried chicken mark left at your doorstep, the soju in your fridge and a loose tongue that couldn’t keep your pain in any longer.

you spilled everything. what happened with mark, how it started, how it ended and yeri almost killed you with your own pillow. you can still hear her voice now, going through every stage of disbelief like it was a full-blown performance.

she went from, “are you kidding me?! mark lee?!,”followed by a dramatic gasp and a mischievous smirk, “was he good?? was he big?,” then came the pause, wide eyes, jaw dropping surprise “he said he only wanted one girl!!?? THE mark lee?? wanting one girl???,” and then her voice cracked, eyes misting as she whispered, “he wanted to know your favorite things?!?!” like it was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard.

and then she strangled you with your own pillow when you got to the end of the story.

she was very much #teammark at the moment.

she was tired of your self sabotaging, your walls, your stubbornness — the way you rejected affection like it was poison. the way you flinched from being needed. from being loved. she understood it came from a place in your past. she never dismissed that pain. but she firmly reminded you that you can’t let your past haunt you forever. that the echoes of what hurt you, the ghosts that whisper you’re unlovable or unsafe, should not define the life you’re living now. she gave you an entire pep talk talking about how you can’t keep holding someone with one hand while the other is clinging to everything that once went wrong. and maybe the love in front of you isn’t perfect, maybe it’s messy and complicated and terrifying but it’s here and it’s real and it could be everything only if you let it.

“look,” yeri cuts through your train of thought,, “mina, doyeon, and ningning will be there too, okay, “you’re the only one that's going to be missing.”

you hesitate.

“he probably won’t even be there,” she adds quickly, “the dream frat most likely has their own party going on tonight.”

you don’t believe her. especially since you knew the dream frat was still under observance from that fight jeno threw.

“i don’t know…,” you say.

“c’mon,” she says, softer this time, “it’s the end of finals, we deserve to let loose and have fun,” she tries, one more time.

you exhale slowly, already halfway convinced.

“...fine.” you mutter, earning a bubbly scream from the other side.

⟢

the music is loud the moment you step through the door, laughter spilling down the hallways, the scent of cheap beer and fruity vape lingering in the air. you’re already regretting the black dress hugging your body, the heels, and the fact that you let yeri talk you into this.

“shots first!,” she yells over the music, dragging you toward the room. you spot familiar faces, mina waving from across the room, doyeon chatting up a pretty girl, ningning locked in an intense game of beer pong with a guy in sunglasses — it’s all the usual chaos. familiar. almost comforting.

you let the noise wash over you, grateful for the distraction until yeri stiffens beside you. you know before you even turn. he’s here — mark lee, leaning casually against the wall across the room, red cup in hand. he’s mid-conversation with a boy you knew, xiaojun – music major, member of the wayv fraternity, also a guy you tutored.

he was laughing, looking relaxed until he saw you.

and everything stops.

almost like you were the only two in the room.

his smile falters. eyes lock with yours. like he didn’t expect you to be here. doesn’t know what to do now that you’re both standing in the same room again.

you forget how to breathe for a second.

“y/n…,” yeri starts, but you shake your head, breaking away from his gaze.

“i’m fine.” you’re not.

but that’s what you tell her, forcing a smile, “let’s get those shots,” you manage to say as you and yeri slip into the kitchen. looking for something to drink. preferably something strong.

⟢

he hadn’t planned on staying long. he hasn’t really been in the mood for parties this whole week. it was too loud, too crowded, too many people and none of them were you.

but chenle, haechan and jisung kept dragging him out night after night, insisting he just needed to “get back out there.”

it hasn’t worked — he wasn’t interested in anyone else, no matter how pretty his friends say they were. all he could think about was you.

he sees you in the spiderman figurines he had in his room. he sees you in the half-eaten pizza box that the boys had ordered, where he could practically hear your laugh. he sees you in his notes. in every damn song that plays. in the stray cat that kept curling up on their lawn. the basketball court. the library. every corner he found himself in is a memory of you.

and sex has been different since that night. not after what you’d shared. not after what it felt like to be wanted like that, to want like that. he didn’t even know if he could go back to casual anymore, especially after feeling intimacy that intense.

so yeah, the plan was simple, he was gonna show up for a bit, make his rounds, say hi to his friends then dip. lock himself up in his room. back to waiting for your call.

he didn’t expect to see you but there you were, walking through the crowd.

and he wished he looked a little better. put a little more effort into his outfit. but truth to be told, he didn't think he had anyone to impress. his light stubble has grown in. he was only in a plain white shirt and black jeans. he didn't even bother styling his hair.

one second, he’s laughing at something xiaojun said, the next the breath gets knocked out of him — you walked in like you didn’t want to be there but still looking so effortlessly beautiful. the walls you’ve been hiding behind standing tall all around you.

every instinct tells him to go to you but his feet stay planted, the grip on his cup tightening.

“dude,” xiaojun says, mid-sentence, eyebrows raising, “are you even listening to me?”

mark doesn’t answer, he watches your eyes sweep the room and then land on him.

everything else disappears.

he doesn’t even hear the music anymore. the crowd becomes nothing more than a blur of faceless shapes, none of them worth noticing.

you still have that look in your eyes. that haunted, guarded look he’s seen too many times. the one that says i want to let you in, but i can’t afford to be hurt again.

you break the contact first, of course you do. he can’t help but continue to stare.

“okay,” xiaojun says suddenly, setting down his drink. “that’s it. i’m introducing you.”

mark’s head snaps toward him, “wait, what?”

“don’t know what happened to you, man but you’ve clearly lost your game,” his friend shrugs, already grabbing mark by the sleeve, “i got this. stop being a pussy, i’ll be your wingman.”

mark resists, suddenly very aware of his surroundings, planting his feet, “no…xiaojun, wait, you don’t understand–”

“she’s super chill,” xiaojun interrupts confidently, “smart as hell, kind of terrifying at first glance but definitely nice. i got you, don’t worry.”

“xiaojun…seriously–” mark hisses, digging his heels in, heart pounding in panic now, “we already…we know each other.”

but xiaojun didn’t hear him. too excited. too focused at playing matchmaker and hauling him toward the kitchen. “you can thank me later,” he grins, “just let me cook.”

mark’s stomach sinks. his hands are clammy. he’s seconds away from bolting. and then you turn around, cup in hand, mid-sip, just as xiaojun barrels into the kitchen with mark reluctantly in tow.

“y/n!,” xiaojun calls cheerfully. mark looks like he’s been dragged into hell itself, his eyes sending you an apology and you can’t help the way your brows lift.

“oh my god,” you whisper under your breath, choking on your drink and mark has to physically stop himself from reaching out to check if you are okay. you curse the fact that you let yeri leave you alone just a few seconds ago.

xiaojun beams, “i want you to meet my friend! this is mark. mark this is y/n..she used to tutor me back in the day. super scary, very smart,” you can’t help but raise a brow at his description, “anyway, you two should totally talk,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

mark gives you a look like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. his voice comes out tight, strained, like it hurts to speak, “hey.”

you glance at mark. he glances at you. and somehow, without saying anything, you both decide to play along.

“nice to meet you,” you say coolly, extending a hand like you haven’t seen every inch of him in moments you’re trying very hard to forget.

mark straightens up, his face schooled into a neutral smile. he takes your hand and his touch lingers just a little too long, bringing up feelings you tried so hard to push away, “same here.”

xiaojun beams, totally buying it, “see? told you i got you,” he whispers, making you quip a brow.

mark doesn’t look away from you, “so…you used to tutor xiaojun?”

you nod, keeping your expression composed, “yeah, freshman year. he was failing basic algebra.”

xiaojun gasps in mock offence, “i had a C-”

“which is failing,” you shoot back without missing a beat.

mark chuckles under his breath, eyes crinkling, “sounds like you were a tough tutor.”

“that depends on who i’m tutoring,” you say, like you didn’t spend the past month tutoring him.

xiaojun claps his hands together, clearly pleased with himself, “this is going great. i’m so good at at this. i should charge people.”

“oh yeah,” mark says, playing along, nodding solemnly. “you should definitely monetize your matchmaking business.”

“maybe i will!,” xiaojun grins, painstakingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension thickening between you two, “anyway, i’m gonna go and leave you two alone. you guys get to know each other. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!,” he winks and disappears back into the party.

and just like that, the mask drops. the space between you crackling.

mark raises an eyebrow, “nice to meet you, huh?”

you shrug, “you started it.”

he smirks faintly, “you didn’t have to shake my hand like we were at a networking event.”

“well, you didn’t have to look so charmed by it,” you shoot back and for a second it all feels too normal. just two friends caught in their playful banter.

⟢

ᓚᘏᗢ now.

“it’s good to see you,” he says, a little quieter now, smirk fading just slightly. you falter at that but instead of running, instead of deflecting, you hold his gaze.

“so,” you say, attempting a half-smile, “do you come here often, mark?”

he chuckles but the sound fades quickly. the amusement doesn’t last in his eyes. you were doing it again. masking your feelings behind a joke. trying to find an out. trying to stall the inevitable — and he stopped playing this game a long time ago. has stopped holding back.

“you didn’t call.”

your smile drops, “mark–,”

“that night,” he cuts in softly, but there’s something raw under his voice now, “i woke up and you were gone.”

the kitchen feels smaller. the party noise beyond the door fades to a muffled hum.

“i didn’t know what to say,” you murmur, voice almost lost under the thump of bass in the other room.

“you didn’t have to say anything,” he says, “i just wanted you to stay.”

you look away but mark steps forward. not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him.

“i kept checking my phone,” he goes on, “every morning when i wake up, every night before i go to bed. i watched you read my messages and i thought maybe you just needed time.”

“—i waited,” he continues, voice shaking now, “i left food by your door, i didn’t even care if you didn’t text back, i just wanted you to know i’m still here.”

you press your lips together, holding everything in.

“i didn’t want that night to end,” he goes on, quieter now, “and maybe i was stupid for thinking you felt the same way but–”

he breathes in, eyes locking onto yours. you try to tell him to stop but your voice betrays you. and mark could no longer hold back the words he’s been wanting to say.

“i fell in love with you.”

your heart stutters. that one phrase making you want to run.

“and i’m still in love with you,” he finishes, like a final breath. like he’s cutting himself open and bleeding honesty, the words slamming into your chest.

“we only had two rules, mark,” you managed to whisper, voice quiet and broken.

mark takes a shaky step closer, heart in his throat, “tell me you don’t feel it then,” he said quietly. his voice wasn’t angry, just tired, broken, desperate.

“look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me…that you don’t feel anything when i look at you like this and i’ll stop. i’ll leave you alone.”

you freeze. you didn’t answer right away. because you did feel it — you felt it in your chest, in your stomach, in the way the world always seemed to go a little quieter when he was around. you feel it in the ache that never went away after that night. you feel it in the way he says your name like it’s something holy. but that truth was too dangerous. too real.

so you hardened your voice, you shove it so far down you almost believe the lie yourself.

“i don’t feel it.”

you looked him dead in the eye, even though it nearly broke you. mark’s face falls but you don’t stop there. you lift your chin, meeting his gaze and finally twisting the knife in both of you.

“i don’t love you.”

his face didn’t crumble. didn’t twist in pain. he just stilled – silent, hollow stillness. the words knocking the breath from his lungs in one brutal blow. his eyes search your face like he’s trying to find a hole in your armor – something to tell him you don’t mean it.

you walked away, leaving him in the kitchen and disappearing into the crowd before he can see the way your hand trembles. before he can see the way your heart is breaking too. every step away from him felt heavier than the last. your throat felt like it was strangling your heartbeat. every breath scraped your ribs like regret trying to crawl out of your chest.

you told yourself not to look back. not to care. this is for the better. he deserves someone better. someone who knew what they wanted. someone who can give him the love he has to give without flinching.

you did the right thing. for the both of you.

you ignore your friend’s calls. focused only on trying to get as far away from this place as possible. and yet, as you passed through the living room, something ridiculous stopped you cold — someone was messing with a money gun. dozens of dollar bills floating all around you, spinning through the air like confetti in slow motion. you scoffed before you could stop yourself, bitter and breathless at the irony.

you pushed forward anyway, trying to control your tears, making your way through the bodies and out into the front lawn. you manage to make it a couple feet away.

but then…fingers, warm and gentle, wrapped around your wrist, turning you towards his tear-filled eyes as he caught up to you, breathless.

“what are you so afraid of?” mark asked, eyes wide, wild with a mixture of hope and desperation.

“what is it that terrifies you so much you’d rather lie to my face than admit what we have?”

his words cracked something open inside you. that was it. the last of your resolve breaking apart. your defenses collapsed.

“you, mark!,” your voice broke, full of too many emotions you could no longer control, “i’m afraid of you!”

he blinked, startled. you didn’t let the silence catch up.

“i’m afraid of what you make me feel,” you said, voice unraveling.

“i’m afraid because i’m in love with you too. and i don’t want to be!”

the tears came fast and hot but you no longer cared about the strong front you’ve been trying to keep up.

“—because the last time i fell in love, it destroyed me. i gave everything to someone who promised they’d stay and they left. and i had to build myself back up from nothing and i swore i’d never let myself feel like that again.”

mark took a slow step closer. like he was approaching something sacred.

“i don’t want to become her again,” you choked out, “the girl who wakes up wondering if today is the day everything falls apart. the one who clings too tightly. the one who ruins everything because she wants too much.”

“you’re not her anymore,” he said softly, like he was holding your heart in his hands., “you’re stronger now. you know who you are. and if things fall apart,” his voice cracked, his own tears falling, “i’ll still be there, i’m not going to leave you.”

you shook your head, tears falling freely, “you don't know that! what if i mess it up? what if i’m too much?”

“then i’ll stay anyway,” he said, voice trembling with conviction, “i’ll stay and remind you every single time that you're not too much. that you’re worth loving.”

you looked up at him, ready to break again but his words make you freeze, “and i’m scared too.”

mark swallowed hard.

“i’ve never been in love before,” he said. “not like this. not even close and i don’t know what i’m doing. i’m scared i’ll say the wrong thing. that i’ll mess this up. that i’ll love you too much or not enough or in the wrong way”

he let out a shaky breath, gaze locked on yours.

“but i’m willing to learn. i'm willing to fall. because i'm scared of losing you the most and i’d rather be scared with you than go my whole life without you in it…without trying.”

his eyes bored into yours, wide and unguarded, filled with that same fear you’d been carrying. you realized then that you weren't so different. just two souls wanting to love and be loved, both terrified of what it might cost.

and if he was brave enough to jump, you weren’t going to let him fall alone — with that, the last wall inside you crumbled and you reached for him.

mark pulls you into his arms like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life. there, under the stars and distant music, you clung to him, allowing yourself to want him. your chest heaved against his, tears soaking into his t-shirt. and still, he held you tighter.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, voice hoarse, “i’m just…i’m so scared.”

“i know,” he murmured back, “it’s okay. i’m here.”

he rocked you gently like your pain had a rhythm only he understood. he didn’t know what else to do but hold you.

eventually your tears slowed. your breathing evened out. your fingers loosened from their desperate grip. you stayed in his arms a moment longer, heart pressed into his chest. committing it to memory like it was a song you never wanted to forget.

then you pull back, just enough to look up at him. your lashes were damp, eyes still glassy, “i meant it,” you said, barely above a whisper, “i love you.”

his eyes searched yours, not for doubt, but for the truth. and when he found it, unguarded, soft, scared, real, his hold on your waist tightens just a tiny bit like he couldn’t believe this was real and not something he’d dreamed up in all the nights he spent missing you.

mark leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you don’t. his lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, then deeper, steadier, like exhaling after holding his breath for years. you kissed him back like it was the only thing you knew how to do — your heart had spent so long trying to run away from this very feeling and now it was collapsing into it with both arms wide open.

no more running. just you and him and the promise of something real. not something that had an expiration date marked by final exams and end of sessions.

he smiled against your lips. you pulled away, the smallest, tearful laugh catching in your throat.

“so…what do we do now?,” you asked, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, though your voice was still soft. still fragile from everything it had admitted. and your eyes only had room for his reflection.

mark raised a hand, thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek, “well,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth, “i would love to take you out on a date.”

and this time, when you smiled…it felt like the beginning.

ᓚᘏᗢ the next day.

mark knocks at your door at exactly 6:00P.M. a little more dressed up than usual, his face freshly shaved, hair styled perfectly, a bouquet of white roses behind his back.

you open the door and his breath catches. the red dress you're wearing stops just above your knees, hugging your curves in all the right places. its bold and subtle all at once, elegant neckline, bare shoulders.

you see the shift in his expression instantly, eyes widening, lips parting slightly.

“kitten,” he breathes out, recovering just enough to let a smirk tug on his lips “are you trying to cancel our date?”

your brows furrow in amusement, “what?”

he lets out a soft laugh, eyes still tracing the length of you. “how do you expect me to not want to have my hands all over you until this is off?” he says, a hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you gently against him, already losing his inner battle.

a playful smirk appears on your lips, “hey, buy a girl dinner first,” you say, pressing your palm to his chest to push him back, just a little.

he chuckles, deep and warm, eyes twinkling as he finally brings the bouquet around “for you, kitten.”

you take the flowers with a soft, surprised smile “these are beautiful mark, thank you,” you say quietly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, just a quick one, before slipping back into your apartment. he stays at the door, watching as you make yourself into the kitchen, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. you rummage through your drawers for the vase you rarely use, dusting it off before filling it with water. carefully, you begin arranging the flowers on your coffee table. mark steps inside, closing the door behind him. his arms wrapping around your waist in a back hug.

“you ready?,” he murmurs, a kiss brushing the curve where your neck meets your shoulder.

“mhm,” you smile, reaching down to pat his hand before lacing your fingers with his. his grip is warm, sure. he leads you to the door, locking it behind you as you both step out of your apartment.

“this is kinda weird,” he chuckles as you walk towards his car.

“what? holding my hand,” you say, about to pull your hand away only for his grip to tighten.

“i didn’t say it was bad,” he says quickly, pulling you closer, “i’ve just never held hands with my girlfriend before.”

you chuckle, some things never change.

“oh, i didn’t know i was your girlfriend now?,” you smirk, teasing, a brow raising.

his smile instantly drops, “please say sike,” he mutters, suddenly serious. you burst into laughter and the tension in his shoulder melts. he watches you in awe, like your laugh could break every bone in his body and he’d still ask to hear it again. a smile taking over his features.

“sike,” you say sweetly just as he pokes your side, making you jump. he opens the passenger door for you with a smug look and you slide inside, cheeks warm, heart racing.

mark planned the most romantic, classic first date imaginable. like something ripped right out of a movie montage. candlelight dinner, soft jazz humming in the background and a corner table in a quiet, upscale restaurant where the lighting was dim and golden, casting everything in a dreamy glow. the flicker of the candle between you danced in his eyes, making him look warmer, softer than usual. the low murmur of other diners fading into the background. he pulled out your chair for you like a real gentleman. you ordered your food, sat across from each other, feet brushing beneath the table, half accidental, half deliberated. it was playful and sweet. he smiled every time it happened like he was trying to make you blush without saying a word. and it worked — you couldn’t remember the last time a date felt this intentional, this thoughtfully put together. like someone had wanted to impress you.

“wow, you really did your research, huh?,” you tease him, eyebrows raised, an amused smirk tugging at your lips.

“only the best for my girl,” he winks. you rolled your eyes at the line but the flutter in your chest betrayed you.

the food arrived and for a while you just existed in the moment. complimenting the dishes, laughing about how his plate looked fancier but yours tasted better. he slid a perfectly sliced piece of steak onto your plate without you asking and you absentmindedly twirled a forkful of pasta and held it out to him like it was second nature. like it was something you’ve been doing for years.

then halfway through the meal, mark leans in a little. his elbow resting on the table, chin in hand like he couldn’t help but watch you.

“i don’t know enough about you,” he says suddenly.

you looked up, caught mid-chew and more caught off-guard, “you’ve literally seen me naked, i think you’re doing fine.”

mark laughed — that warm, boyish sound that always cracked you open a little more than you liked to admit. he leaned back slightly, shaking his head, “yeah but i mean know you. like the little things. the stuff people forget to ask but matters more than they think.”

you blinked, slowly setting your fork down, “ok…what do you want to know?”

he lights up like a kid on christmas day, “what’s your favorite color?”

“really, mark?” you laughed, because of all the things he could’ve asked, it was a question as simple as that.

“hey! it’s important especially since i want to buy you gifts,” he shrugs, taking a bite out of his (your) pasta.

you rolled your eyes, smiling anyway “okay. pink.”

mark blinked, surprised. he never would’ve guessed. “pink?”

“mhm,” you said, spearing a bite of the salad in between you, “not like neon pink though but soft pink.”

“didn’t see that coming,” he said grinning. “but it kinda fits…you act all tough but you’re secretly a softie.”

you narrowed your eyes, “careful.”

“just saying,” he chuckled, reaching for his drink.

“alright,” you said, pointing your fork at him, “your turn, favorite color?”

“blue.”

you tilted your head, chewing thoughtfully, a playful grin on your face, “blue because it’s the color of the sky?”

he grinned, “that was the reason…at first,” he said, voice softening, “then you walked up to me, wearing a soft blue sundress during freshman year and the reason changed.”

your fork froze halfway to your mouth. for a second, the air felt heavier, quieter, like the words had rearranged the molecules around you. your eyes widen a little, lips parting as your expression falters between surprise and amusement.

“you remembered what i was wearing?,” you ask in pure disbelief.

“how could i forget?,” he shrugs like he didn’t just confess something that would stay with you for the rest of your life.

“wait…are you saying you’ve had a crush on me since freshman year?,” you asked, your tone teasing.

mark rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning, “i may have had a tiny crush on you back then,” he admits. the smile on your face growing with every second.

the rest of your evening unfolded like a dream you didn’t want to wake from. full of quiet laughter, sharing of favorites and the reason behind them. every answer was like turning a page, revealing another layer neither of you had taken time to read before. between conversation, his hand would find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there. he’d brush your knuckles with his thumb, every movement gentle, deliberate. and every now and then, he’d lean over and kiss you. soft, unhurried kisses that made your skin hum and your stomach flip.

by the time you slid back into his car, the air between you was warm and charged, not with tension but with something more open, more vulnerable. he let you have the aux, learning your favorite songs on the ride back. both of you singing along, sometimes out of tune, sometimes laughing too hard. his hand was in yours the whole drive home. you kissed at stop lights. playful pecks that turned into lingering moments. the city moved around you, but you both felt disconnected. stuck in your own world with a population of two.

when he finally pulled up to your place, you were still laughing about something stupid he’d said. and then it got quiet. the kind of the quiet that meant something more. mark walked you to your door, hand still wrapped around yours like he couldn’t let go.

“tonight was really fun,” you said softly , your arm looped around his neck, fingers playing absentmindedly with his hair.

“yeah?,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple, lingering there for a beat, “would you say i’m you know…boyfriend material?,” he teased, smirking against your skin.

you huffed a laugh, playfully nudging him with your shoulder, “that was so bad.”

he tilts his head to look at your properly, the mischief fading into something gentler, more sincere, “i had the best time.”

you met his gaze, leaning up to kiss him – slow and sweet. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss for a heartbeat before you pulled back, breathless but smiling.

“goodnight, mark,” you whispered, not quite ready for the night to end.

“goodnight kitten,” he said just as softly.

you slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. but your skin still buzzed with his touch, lips still tingling with the memory of his kiss. you leaned against the door, eyes closed, heart racing as the entire night replays in your mind.

outside, mark stares at your door, already missing your presence. he started to bring his fist up for a knock, but then the door opened. again.

he blinked, startled.

you were standing there, eyes already locked on his. you didn’t say a word. neither did he.

because in the next second, he crossed the threshold and kissed you – hard, fast and real. all the restraint of the evening gave way to need. he kicked the door shut behind him, hand blindly finding the lock as his other arm wound around your waist.

you make the familiar steps to your bedroom, lips never leaving his, a quiet gasp escaping you when he lifted you slightly, walking you backward until your knees hit the bed.

and when you made love, it wasn’t rushed or desperate. it was slow, tender. his hands memorized you all over again. his lips marked every inch of your skin. you whispered his name like it meant something new now. he held you like he never wanted to stop.

the morning came and you were still there, wrapped tightly around his arms. body molded perfectly against his like you were always meant to fit there. fingers interlaced like your hands had made a silent promise sometime in the night to never part. mark could see the pink and purple marks blooming where his lips and hands had wandered. he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest — you looked peaceful, like all the weight you usually carried had melted away in the dark, if only for a little while. and in that quiet moment, with the world still hushed around you, he knows that it’s all worth it.

and if he had to do it all over again – the mistakes, the heartache, the waiting. he would. every single time, without hesitation, if it always leads him back to this. back to you. the only thing he’s ever been sure of.

ᓚᘏᗢ

loving mark made you realize that love didn’t have to be a fantasy. it wasn’t all sunshines and rainbows and happily ever afters. but it also wasn’t terrible, screaming at each other at 3am, being left behind on the kitchen floor, crying your eyes out.

it didn’t happen overnight either. there was still fear lingering in the back of your head. but this time you don’t let it take control. this time you don’t let it overpower.

because love with mark is staying, even when you were scared. especially when you were scared. it was comfort and safety. the kind that wrapped around your heart and told you it was okay to let your guard down. it was peace. the kind that didn’t demand you to be anything other than what you were. it was someone showing up at your apartment with your favorite snacks, settling in beside you on the couch while a romcom played and cramps left you curled under a blanket. no pressure to talk. just presence. it’s laughing at terrible jokes until your stomach hurt. arguing about which spiderman was the best. agreeing to disagree, even if you were clearly right. it was fighting over which greasy takeout to get and pretending to be annoyed when he ordered your favorite anyway. it was celebrating the happy moments, the sad moments and everything in between. it’s sticking around when things got hard. still choosing each other when the weight of the world made everything feel heavy. it was learning each other and unlearning old patterns. being patient. building something new, one honest conversation at a time. it was asking, “do you want advice or do you just want me to listen?” it was hearing the answer and respecting it.

it wasn’t about fixing each other or needing someone to fill a space inside you. it was about wanting to be there. it was about choosing to stay again and again and again.

𓏲 the end.

-

18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content

bonus: mark x kitten coded -> video one, video two, video three

-

an: and 3/7 is done! i hit the 1000 text block limit thing on here and it was awful. it’s not my fault they’re both yappers and i write way too much when mark is involved! i hope i was still able to convey the tension and longing in those long ass paragraphs >.< …. anyways, this was supposed to end the moment she walked away but i couldn’t do it! i had to give mark a happy ending, he deserves it!. kitten was so hard to write like why am i writing a character with past trauma and real, raw, emotions that are hitting too close to home… this is supposed to be a fun, silly rom-com. but i hope you liked her! i hope you liked them. thank you for reading! <3

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love tags : @bluedbliss @yesohhsehun @tynlvr @sunghoonsgfreal @2sungie @euphormiia @ptv-hades @imnotrosiee @remgeolli

[sweetiechenle]

reading between the lines ✦ jeno

pairing: collegestudent!literatureprodigy!jeno x afab!collegestudent!scienceandmathgenius!reader

summary: jeno was the biggest problem you've ever had to solve, but for him you weren't quite an open book either.

w.c: 9.4k

warnings: mdni 18+, MATH, i did so much research i feel like i need to cite my sources, thank you quizlet, angst, hurt and comfort, frenemies to lovers, fluff, jeno and y/n argue a lot and yell at each other, teasing, misunderstandings, YEARNING, kissing, make-ups and confessions, plot WITH porn, love making very intimate, hard with feelings and refuse to listen to each other, unprotected sex (i better not catch y'all doing this), praising, crying, begging, groveling, pet names (baby), oral (f receiving), creampie (YUM), softdomtop!jeno (just as god intended), crack/humor, scientific talk because smart (i never took bio in college), if i forgot anything pls lmk. reblogs and feedback appreciated ♡ fiction ≠ reality. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JENO!!!

‘WHAT’ you gasped, not noticing you had barked it out until everyone turned around and glared at you.

‘i’m sorry?...’ your professor had stopped everyone to bring attention back, she gave you a quizzical look, ‘is there a problem?’

you shook your head, still surprised by your sudden outburst, ‘n-no, i apologize’ you hung your head in shame, red blooming on your cheeks from embarrassment. you had been dreading today, your world literature 1 professor had told you all a week ago that you would be paired up with a partner for your first project. your major in biology and minor in actuarial mathematics required some literature classes to help with ‘scientific writing and understanding’ as your advisor put it. so you figured world literature 1 was the easiest choice, it turned out to actually be hell on earth. your weakest subject was english and literature, you were never a reader growing up unless it was about different sciences, but you always opted for documentaries and videos than reading. growing up, you’d always dread english class, anxiously waiting for whatever science and math class you could have next.

when you tell people that your favorite subject is math and then science they would laugh and usually end it with an ‘i wish’, that was your english and history, you wish you could understand it better, but it always seemed impossible. what you were least expecting was getting paired with the best literature student you knew, jeno. he annoyed you at times, acting like a pretentious asshole going around and quoting shakespeare and some other century-dead author. when you went and quoted pythagroas near him it was now apparently a problem, you two bickered back and forth in class during group introductions about greek philosophers for almost an hour, debating if aristotle was more of a math genius or a linguistics expert.

after the heated discussion, jeno told you ‘i love a good debate, you have some crazy opinions though’ he ended up giving you his phone number. it was only the first week of classes, your first ‘friend’(?), you texted him that night, but no response came. the next week you were struggling with questions your professor had given you all to go with a reading.

you texted jeno:

‘hey is this correct? *PICTURE ATTACHED*

his response chimed on your phone five minutes later:

‘no’

and that was the only response you got, no help, no explanation, you didn’t even know what was wrong with your answer to begin with. fuck this, you ended up calling him, to your surprise he answered with a ‘what?’

you didn’t mean to blow up on him, but it just came out, ‘why can’t you be nice to me for one second and help me with this student homework?’

he sighed, making your ear vibrate with the sound, ‘take back what you said and i’ll help you’

you grumbled but obliged, ‘this homework and reading is not stupid, now please help me’

you guys ended up talking on the phone for almost two hours, discussing different themes from the reading, mostly arguing about who was right, but in the end jeno helped you get answers that were good enough. he talked you through the questions and the actual themes of the reading, the elements, and showed you how to better analysis pieces of literature. you were eternally grateful but absolutely mortified at the same time.

after that phone call, you were psyched, finally finding someone that could help you pass. you were always the person in math classes that everyone went to, you didn’t have to be that person for others anymore. although you remember all the emotional baggage and difficulty when trying to help others study and understand formulas, you wouldn’t ask much of jeno, only when you really needed it.

two weeks ago you found him in the library, doing homework with books scattered around him. the first thing you noticed were glasses that he had never worn before, big frames making his eyes look much bigger in such a cute way. you figured if you asked he wouldn’t mind if you joined him, and you figured that if you asked in an even nicer way, he could help you with the literature homework.

‘hey jeno!’ you greeted him, walking up to his table, he looked up, pink lips still in a straight line, ‘would you mind if i joined you?’

‘i guess not’ he shrugged and moved some of his books out of the way for you, now sitting across from him you smiled slightly and got out your own homework. abstract algebra was your favorite class so far this semester, you never thought getting homework would make you so giddy. you couldn’t believe some people found it excruciating, while it was just a ‘fun activity’ for you. you and jeno continue work in silence, you would steal glances every once in a while, his eyes scanning over the paper as he scribbled down notes and highlight sentences. eyebrows knitting together and whispering out words in order to analyze everything perfectly. you thought it was cute, his lips would curl up into a smile after every question got answered. sitting in front of him, you could see the perfect slope of his nose, his broad shoulders slouched as he leaned into the desk, his large hand brushing his black hair back sporadically. the golden ratio had nothing on him.

not long after the trance jeno left you in, you finished your math homework and now it was time for your enemy: literature. you looked up and glanced at jeno who was writing notes down, ‘hey’ he lifted his head, ‘do you think you could help me with this?’ you motioned down to the paper in front of you, he followed and noticed your blank page compared to his one that was filled.

‘did you even try?’ he questioned, ‘it looks like you haven’t even started’

‘well’ you started with a sheepish smile, ‘i did do the reading, but i could barely understand any of it’

he sighed, his hands reaching under his glasses so he could rub his eyes, ‘okay, and what part did you not understand?’

you grabbed your packet of papers and flipped until you found the sentence, reading out loud, ‘his sense of her inferiority—of its being a degradation—of the family obstacles which judgment had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit’, you looked up at him, offering the best pleading eyes you could muster.

he slightly rolled his eyes, ‘so, basically darcy should put away his pride of being in a higher ranking than elizabeth, but he cares more about her status than love. even while he is proposing, he still looks down on elizabeth and wants her to feel grateful that he is even considering her as a wife’

‘oh, i never thought of it that way’ you mumbled, looking down at your paper again.

‘don’t they teach you stuff like this in high school? god, i fear for your grade when we actually have to read and analyze a whole book and not just passages for exercises’

the sentence was a stab to the heart, taken aback you said nothing as shame burned through your body. growing up you’d have teachers, friends, and your parents comment on your lack of understanding for english and literature, but you’ve never heard a remark like this. it cut deep, you opened and closed your mouth, unable to give an actual response, incapable of making any snide comeback, you gathered your things, got up and walked away from him. before he started to see the tears that made its way down your face.

you avoided jeno as much as you could, you sat nowhere near him in your shared class, never looked in his direction in the courtyard and started taking different routes to other classes. it was working out great for the most part, that was until he had transferred into your biology ‘unity of life’ class three weeks into the semester, at the very last minute of course. rumors were going around that a lot of students had transferred out of his previous one due to it ‘being too hard’ and that the professor ‘was a nightmare’ and he needed a natural science requirement for his major, secondary education if you could remember correctly.

seeing him walk through the door of one of your favorite classes was a different type of personal hell, and you were having a great day so far. you softly groaned, trying to resist the urge to roll your eyes in annoyance. your desk partner seemed to catch on, jaemin turned to you, ‘whats wrong? forgot to do last nights homework?’

you turned towards him, ‘never, i was so excited for this assignment, i finished all the questions as soon as i got home… it’s just… that guy, the one who just walked in’ you glanced back to his lab table, jaemin followed with his eyes, ‘i’m in his literature class and he’s nothing but an egomaniac, basically called me dumb for not understand some passage from a book’

the blond haired boy frowned, ‘he might know some books, but wait until he gets a taste of a real challenge, he transferred too late into the semester, he’s fucked’. your lips twitched up into a smile. you met jaemin the first day of class, introducing himself as a veterinarian science major with a minor in biology. you two became quick friends after you got him coffee one morning, you ended up with two cups after the cafe got your first order wrong. he was nothing but thankful, long discussions in class that lead to topics that never related to science. you got to know him pretty well, often texting and meeting up for study groups with other students from class, you both always paired up in class whenever prompted.

‘that’s fair, would be satisfying to watch him struggle’ you whispered.

he giggled, ‘god you sound like such a sadist’

the professor pulled up his notes as he prepared for the beginning of class, ‘takes one to know one’

you opened your notebook to the current lesson: the cytoskeleton. the professor went through the slideshow while you happily took notes on cells and its structure and stabilities within the cytoplasm. once the professor was done with the lecture, he started asking students questions, seeing if they were paying attention.

‘okay, now what is a delicate coil held together by hydrogen bonding between every fourth amino acid?’ he looks over his roster of students, ‘jeno! why don’t you answer this for us’

on cue, everyone turned to watch him, his head shot up from his notebook in surprise. he obviously looked unprepared, hands nervously pushing his bangs back. ‘oh… um, i don’t know i’m sorry professor, i transferred late into this class and still need to catch up’ his hair looked wild as the tips of his ears shone a bright red.

the poor professor sighed, ‘does anyone want to help jeno out?’

you immediately shot up your hand, ‘y/n?’

you smiled dramaticly, before another breathe you answered, ‘alpha helix’

‘yes, thats correct! great job y/n… now you all need to pay attention, this will be on our first exam coming up in two weeks’ he went on about amino acids and different elements. jaemin leaned into you, ‘nice’ he whispered, a smile on his face. yeah, that would show jeno what you could do.

you peeked back at jeno who whispered ‘two weeks!?’ to himself looking distressed, you felt a pang in your heart. perhaps it wasn’t fair, stuff like this was never taught in secondary school science classes, obviously he was going to struggle. you weren’t going to seek him out and offer help though, he knew science and arithmetic were your strong suits, it was his turn to come running, beg for forgiveness and ask for help.

speak of the asshole, and it shall fart, jeno texted you later that night.

‘hey…’ you scoffed, the audacity of this guy, you resisted the urge to text him back a ‘you should know this already right?’

you texted back a simple ‘what?’

he immediately answered, ‘do you think you could help me with this bio homework and maybe study together for the exam ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡’. shameless.

giving him the benefit of the doubt, you relented. maybe it was an off day for him, ‘i guess, meet me in the library tomorrow, and we’ll start’ he hearted the message and that was the end of the conversation.

you woke up early the next day, grabbing every notebook you had kept over the years that could help jeno. you texted him right after noon, ‘this is an all day affair, meet me in an hour and bring me a caramel macchiato. don’t be late, pride & prejudice wasn’t written in a day’ he liked the message as a response. you left your dorm and headed to the library, setting up a space for a long study session. jeno comes right on time, with two coffees in his hand.

he places the bigger cup down in front of you, ‘large caramel macchiato, with extra caramel, extra vanilla, and extra drizzle’

you look up at him and give him a modest smile, grabbing the drink and taking a sip from the straw and swirling the ice around the cup, ‘thank you, lets get started’ he nodded and pulled out the chair next to you and sat down.

you got out all your notebooks, his eyes widened making you giggle, ‘jesus christ dude, how many notebooks do you have for this class?’

‘well, not all of them are from this class, i brought some from previous classes that i think could help you’ you handed over a stack of notes, which he begrudgingly took. ‘okay, now lets get started…’

you two had spent hours discussing carbohydrates, cellulose, and enzymes. sometimes arguing back and forth about answers, ‘okay so, a system of membranes that modifies and packages proteins for export by the cell?’ you asked jeno as he flipped through his notes.

‘um… integrins?’ he answered, totally unsure of himself in the process.

you smiled, ‘not quite, its the golgi apparatus, integrins are cell-surface receptor proteins… crazy how you don’t remember this from basic biology classes…’ you mumbled the last part.

but of course he still caught it, ‘what was that?’

you shrugged your shoulders, ‘i mean we learn about cells and stuff in secondary school… everyone knows that the golgi apparatus is the packaging and distribution center of the cells, i mean everyone talks about how the mitochondria is the power house of the cell, is that the only thing you remember from biology?’

his eyebrows shot up in surprise, ‘oh? so that's what this is about?’ he smirked, ‘you’re still upset about what i said last week aren’t you?’

your gaze diverted from his line of sight, thankful you wore your hair down this morning so he wouldn’t see the pink burning on the tips of your ears. ‘no… i’m just saying’

‘...saying almost the same exact thing i said?’ jeno smiled, and his eyes turned into crescent moons, happy that he caught you in the act, ‘understandable… well, uh, if you help me, i’ll help you’

you crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at him, ‘not until you apologize, not everyone can be as good as you in literature’

‘okay, i’m sorry, you are a genius in math and science, now please agree’ jeno pleaded.

‘fine’ you answered.

another week passed and jeno finally felt comfortable taking the exam, on the other hand your literature professor started talking about a project for that class. jeno reassured you that he would help you in the best way he could, he helped you with literary analysis, notations, and rhetoric. you ended up getting an 85% percent on the most recent homework, excited to show jeno you made your way to the classroom.

‘so, jeno, i’ve been seeing you hanging out with that y/n person in our class’ you stopped before the entrance to the classroom, ‘they literally know nothing about literature and refuse to learn, how could you put yourself through that?’

‘oh, well, um, i don’t know, i’m just helping them with some stuff’ jeno answered. you peeked inside, he was with two other students, a girl and a boy, sitting together in a group.

‘must be pretty frustrating, i don’t know why they are even in this class, fucking moron, am i right?’ the girl responded and you could hear the others, but jeno, laugh.

you could feel your heart break as your mind begin to buzz. eyes watered, and you thought back to your discussion with jaemin, of course you guys were poking fun at jeno too, but nothing this extreme. ‘i mean, i guess one could think that, but everything about th-’ you couldn’t listen anymore, turned your heels and stormed off. stopping at the end of the hallway to through your graded paper away in anger and humiliation. after everything you both did for each other, it made your blood boil in anger and betrayal, you had to get back home. you paced to your dorm, keeping your head down so no one would notice you and your state of mind right now. skipping one literature class wouldn’t hurt.

so it did, and now here you are, sitting in your literature class with the professor reading out the pairings for the first project. for the rest of the week and over the weekend, you had ignored jeno’s texts and calls, you decided you were finally done with his games. ‘y/n and jeno’ the professor read out to the class.

‘WHAT’ you gasped, not noticing you had barked it out until everyone turned around and glared at you.

‘i’m sorry?...’ your professor had stopped everyone to bring attention back, she gave you a quizzical look, ‘is there a problem?’

you shook your head, still surprised by your sudden outburst, ‘n-no, i apologize’ you hung your head in shame, red blooming on your cheeks from embarrassment.

your professor nodded and resumed her list of partners, after she announced to the class, ‘now sit with your partners and discuss what you all want to do for your projects for the rest of class’

you groaned, you weren’t ready to face jeno yet, you probably never would be. you never wanted to see or speak to him ever again, you shuffled to his seat, taking your time to get over to him and sit down.

‘hey’ he said, ‘you’ve been ignoring me this whole week, whats up?’

fake ass bitch, you thought, he didn’t care, ‘nothing, just not a good week i guess’

he frowned, ‘damn, well, if it makes you feel better, i got a 90% on my first bio exam!’ he beamed, ‘so at least now you know your hard work is paying off’

‘that’s great, glad you’ve been getting at least something out of this’ you deadpanned.

he gave you a quizzical look, but decided to drop the subject, ‘so, for the project i was thinking about covering the tenant of wildfell hall’

you literally didn’t care and let him pick whatever, ‘yeah that’s fine’

his eyes narrowed, giving you a weird look again, ‘okay… so, the book has themes of double standards, religion, morality, and love. i can send you passages that we can cover for our project…’. jeno went on for the next thirty minutes with only little nods and comments from you, agreeing to anything he had to suggest. all you wanted to do was leave, once the professor dismissed class that's what you did, picking up your backpack and storming off with jeno still talking.

you rushed down the hallway, ignoring the calls coming from jeno behind you. with his crazy athletic built he eventually caught up to you, grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. you gazed up at him, he stared down at you, looking for any answer he could find. ‘what is your problem? i thought you’d be happy we were paired up?’ he started interrogating you.

you sighed, almost giving up, ‘jeno, can we just meet up later and talk about it? i’m exhausted right now’

he sighed and his hands fell from your shoulders, ‘i’ll text you’ he nodded, and you turned around and left. once at your dorm you threw your backpack to the side and climbed into your bed, taking a well needed nap. a few hours later, your phone vibrating next to you pulled you out of dream land.

3 missed texts from jeno:

‘y/n, are you able to come over to my apartment soon?’

‘plz stop being so stubborn its annoying plz just talk to me’

‘here’s the address lmk when ur on the way’

you texted him back:

‘sorry i was taking a nap’

‘i can be there in a bit’

you got up and got ready, grabbed your backpack and left for jeno’s. once you got there it took you a good five minutes to have the courage to knock on his door. hesitant you tenderly knocked on the door, after a second he opened up the door and let you inside without another word. he was in shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt and smelled immaculate, you gulped, raking your eyes over his body, strong arms and long legs, a face without imperfections. your heart burned in anger and panic, angry that he was so gorgeous it pissed you off, panic because all you could think was what the fuck am i doing right now? ‘do you want to sit down? i saw you brought your backpack, we can work on some stuff if you want?’

you nodded, walked over to the couch and plopped down, grabbing your backpack you opened it and got your laptop out, pulling up the notes from your calculus 2 class. jeno joined you on the couch, sitting a little bit to close for comfort, but you said nothing. his bare leg brushed against your clothed one, sending a buzzing sensation all throughout your body, trying your best to ignore him you stayed focused on your screen.

question 1: x³ + 2x² - 6z = 4 - 2y²

without a second thought you typed in the answer:

r³cos³0 + 2r² - 6z = 4

submitting it you smiled as the green checkmark popped up, correct on the first try. ‘damn, that’s crazy’ jeno broke the silence, you glanced over at him.

‘what?’ you said turned back to your laptop.

‘i literally understood none of that and you got it on the first try!? that’s literally fucking insane’

you laughed at his outburst, ‘it’s nothing really, it was kind of easy, just plug in the following x and y polar conversion formulas into the equation where possible, then you just rewrite everything and use the formulas to convert the equation into cylindrical coordinates’

jeno howled in laughter, which was contagious enough to make you laugh, ‘that’s insane, you’re amazing’

you cocked your head to the side, intrigued by his word choice, ‘oh? am i?’

his demeanor changed, the air felt heavy as he calmed down and moved closer to you. he leaned in, and you panicked, he glanced down at your lips and back up to your eyes. his long eyelashes met his cheeks, you followed suit and closed your eyes, ignoring the way your mind is screaming at you not to do this. heart says otherwise, as you could hear it beat in your ears, whole body buzzing as his pink, soft lips brushed against yours.

jeno moved in deeper, teeth clinking together as you ravaged your mouth, he was a starved man, and you were the last meal he would ever receive. it was warm and sensual, he reached around your waist and roughly pulled your torso into his. his nose bumped into yours as he moved his head slightly for better access, laptop completely abandoned to the side your arms lifted to his biceps, squeezing hard as you let out a soft moan. you broke the kiss as you pressed against his arms, your forehead leaned on his as you both caught your breath, between pants he smiled and laughed, you did not. anxiety ran your blood cold as now all you could think of was what he had said in the classroom about you. was this all a joke?

‘jeno…’ you started, and his smile faltered, ‘i can’t do this’ you stood up and grabbed your laptop and shoved it haphazardly into your backpack, heatedly rushing out of his apartment and down the hall to the entrance. again you ignored jeno as he called after you, his footsteps echoing behind you. you pushed the heavy door open and the air hit you with the wind flying through your hair. continuing down the lamp-lighted street, the boy was still trying to catch up to you.

‘y/n please, we forgot to talk about it’ he addressed your almost non-existent figure fading into the darkness.

he was hopeless by now, but still refused to give up, he moved again, ‘y/n!’

you stopped and turned around, walking up to him his build now growing hazy as water pooled in your eyes. ‘you wanna talk about it? you WANT to talk about it? FINE, you are such a stuck-up asshole, thinking i’m so stupid because i don’t have the best grade in our lit class. laughing about it with your friends when they call me a moron! you think you’re so great you didn’t even know what the chemical symbol was for sulfur, FUCKING SULFUR JENO’ you were yelling at this point, jabbing your finger into his chest with every emphasis in your anger. ‘you think you can play me in some fucked up game you have going on in your head, keeping me around so you can feel better about yourself and use me for help so you could pass an exam, i know i’ve asked you for help before, but at the end of it, all i wanted to do was be your friend, you could’ve said no, but i couldn’t. you gave me no choice but to give in with the deal that you’d help me in return, and you know what? i needed the help, badly. and you knew that and used it in a discussion with your friends that laughed at me because of it, you know how that made me feel? like absolute shit, i wanted to be your friend but all you have ever done was use me and hurt me, and guess what? you don’t have to fear for’ fingers motioning air quotations, ‘my grade because i got a good grade on my homework thanks to you, so thank you jeno! i really appreciate the help, i hope it really boosted your ego, maybe you can go fucking write a book about it or something, i don’t know and i don’t care, but i’m done’ your face was probably beet red at this point, while angry tear's avalanche down your face, you hastily whipped your face and snot that escaped during your outburst. his face focused into view, he was so pretty, and that made you tear up all over again, he could have been different.

he looked defeated, frustrated as his fists clenched into balls and relax over and over, ‘y/n, please let me explain, i di-’ you stopped him, placing your hand in front of his face.

‘do the math jeno, the probability that i would ever hear you out is slim…’ you turned and started walking away, briefly glancing back, he was still in the same spot. ‘it’s S by the way, the symbol for sulfur, maybe now you’ll remember it when you think back on this night… not so proud after all’ your voice cracked at the last sentence as your heart wrenched and stomach mangled, tears breaking through yet again.

you left him there.

you decided not to tell jaemin about what happened, but jeno’s absence was evident. you couldn’t sleep, all that replayed in your nightmare was his soft lips brushing against yours, and you swore you could still feel his strong arms pulling you forward, into him. the feeling that gave you clawed at your heart, beating you down every single time you closed your eyes and pictured his face smiling at you, laughing at you, annoyed at you. anything he gave you, you would take, no matter how much it broke you down. you liked him, no, you like him. even after everything he’s done, you still held a soft spot for him in your fractured heart. all the phone calls that turned into facetime when he would ask for help with math, and you had to show him the steps of a problem. laughing every time you would shake trying to hold your phone steady as he jokingly squawked, ‘keep still!’ when he would read passages to you over the phone late at night, and you’d have fallen asleep to his tender voice before he could even explain the motif. it had only been 5 weeks of class, but it felt like you had known him longer, despite your differences in subjects you both eventually subsided the arguments with long discussions and debates on why one answer was right and how the other was wrong. revelations that came to light after hours of going back and forth.

you stood in the shower, blankly staring at the white ceramic wall in front of you as droplets rained down. you thought about the day you and jeno were studying in the library, renting a study room within because you figured the discussion would be heated. it ended up in a feverish battle between the differences of cell adhesion and cell migration. by the end of it you were standing up, hands pulling at your roots in irritation trying to explain it to the boy sat down in front of you with a shit-eating grin adorning his face. ‘y/n, y/n, stop, stop, please, i can’t take it anymore’ he laughed, clutching his stomach, ‘i got it, while they are tightly associated, cell adhesion provides structural support and stability to tissues, while cell migration is the directed movement of cells from one location to another’

your arms dramatically dropped to your sides, ‘YOU KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME’ pointing, you accused him.

he laughed again at your reaction, ‘i just love seeing you like that, it’s cute, you know i just love a challenge’ he exclaimed going back to his notes.

you laughed to yourself, recalling the moment of the playful banter and subtle flirting that slipped out on occasion. you giggled, howled, and snorted a little too much at the memory, which silently followed into your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach, the shower masking the uncontrollable sobs that carried through every limb, appendage, and bone.

jaemin went on and on about some story about his roommates, you paid barely any attention, eyes glued to the door as you waited to see if he would show up. the blond boy slurred his words, leaning into you now, trying to get you to look at him. you turned your body, he was giving you a pouty face with big, shining eyes, ‘i asked you a question y/nnie. were you even listening to me?’ he tugged on the sleeve of your hoodie, his strength made you feel like a rag doll.

‘i was… and the answer is yes?’ you said, unsure about whatever he was yapping about.

he beamed and clapped playfully, ‘yippie! i knew you could use a pick-me-up, i promise it’ll be fun, the party is saturday so clear your schedule, i’ll pick you up’

your shoulder shook as you lightly laughed at his theatrics, rubbing your temple in exasperation as to what you just got yourself into, ‘sounds like fun’. you barely noticed jeno walking in out of the corner of your eye. he looked worse than you did, a hoodie with a stain, sweats that looked they were able to fall apart, mis-matched socks and unkempt hair. he kept pushing his glasses up his nose and rubbing his tired eyes. your heart skipped a beat when you noticed his dark circles that almost matched yours, his being a little worse for wear. before he could catch you staring, you quickly focused your attention to the professor starting class, going through the roaster and continuing the lecture on cells.

‘can anyone tell me the variations in cell types? jeno, got an answer?’ the professor smiled at him, everyone turned to spectate and wait for him to answer, except you.

‘um, prokaryotic and eukaryotic’ he dragged, sounding uninterested despite getting the question right.

‘yes! very good jeno’ the professor praised, moving on to the next question. you started to sweat, angry that he got it right and yet you were now holding on your high c- in literature class. how come he could now catch onto science but yet, you were still unable to grapple with the concepts of a victorian classic novel? or maybe it was the fact you had skipped every class this week, refusing to work with jeno on anything, you noticed the text and calls from him were dwindling three days after the confrontation, however everyday he sent pictures of his notes and analysis on the reading and how the project was going. as pathetic as it was, you continue to lay awake in bed nearly every night rereading his text from that night:

i know you are angry and probably hate me right now and that’s understandable, but i don’t want to give up on you, on us. do you think newton gave up on the laws of motion after he failed on the first or second try? you aren’t getting the whole picture, plz give me a chance to explain, i don’t even know if you are reading this, but if you are, plz hear me out you got it all wrong about that day in the classroom, and if it felt like i was using you, i’m sorry. that was never my intention, i just like being around you, you are always quick-witted and i was just trying to taunt you so you’d pay attention to me because i really like you, ig that backfired badly lol. anyway, i hope this will change your mind, and you’ll reach out, i’ll give you time.

followed by a very unserious message that you couldn’t help but smile at:

oh, i almost forgot, don’t worry about the project, but you could come to class, i’m starting to fear for your grade again (,,>﹏<,,) (only kidding!)

another biology class and 2 skipped lit classes pass and the weekend was finally brought upon the world. you held the pleasure of assisting jaemin to a party hosted by someone he knew from one of his health classes. it took forever for you to pick out a cute outfit, but opted for a sleeveless shirt and basic jean shorts and a pair of white sneakers you found buried in the back of your small closet. you carefully did your makeup, usually not taking it too far, but this was special, and you needed to feel like a bad bitch tonight.

jaemin showed up an hour later, deciding to walk to the house 4 blocks down, saying he wanted ‘to get turnt with you’ and that he refused to drink and drive. you agreed, walking sounded better than looking for a driver or someone having to stay sober throughout the night. you exited your building and found jaemin’s car in the lot, he climbed out to greet you and whistled, eyes eating up your form, ‘damn, you look hot’

you smiled bashfully, ‘thanks jaemin, even nerds can be hot you know?’

he turned to lock his car, ‘i mean, yes, but like, you always look cute, but this is like the freaky side of you, it’s different… it’s nice’

you cackled, ‘please never call me freaky ever again, i’m going to revoke your brain rot privileges’

he admitted defeat and dropped the conversation, you both now walked down the sidewalk in perfect silence with the sun now set, surveying the rows of houses in different stages of life in the moon glow. ‘it’s this one’ jaemin nudged you, stopping, he pointed to the house on the corner, you nodded and wrapped your arm around his, linking together so you immediately wouldn’t get lost in the sea of a potential crowd. he opened the old, green door, and you followed, as expected there was a good amount of people attending and as the night worn on you figured more would pile in.

jaemin turned to you, ‘do you wanna go find some drinks?’

‘yes, please’ you quickly nodded as he pulled you through the throng of people, trying to find the kitchen.

once you were there, the host of the party seemed to also be there, ‘jaemin! glad you could make it man’ they dabbed each other up and touched shoulders embracing in a ‘bro hug’.

‘hell yeah, no way i’d not come for the first party of the semester, i brought my friend along with me!’ he pulled you closer to him, now giving you the floor as all attention was pulled towards you, wincing as jaemin jabbed at your side, urging you to get closer to his friend.

‘hi, i’m y/n’ you said giving him a genuine smile, holding out your hand.

‘oh my, you are gorgeous, and you came with this sleaze bag’ he nodded towards jaemin who just playfully hit his friends shoulder, ‘i’m donghyuck, but everyone calls me haechan, its a pleasure to meet you’ he softly took a hold of your hand and bent down to give it a little peck, you giggled at the eccentric greeting.

jaemin tore haechan away, ‘alright, not too much now’ he joked, ‘it’s time for shots’ haechan clapped and guided you both to the kitchen island that was filled with different alcohol, he picked out a clear liquid and poured them into plastic shot cups he grabbed from a neat stack. jaemin lifted up his cup, ‘fuck pharmacology’ you snickered at his comment and raised your cup along with haechan who nodded in agreement. on cue, you threw back the cup and shuddered as the sweet nectar burned your throat. ‘hell yeah! another! at the end of the night i want to be able to forget about fucking blood urea nitrogen and blood glucose’ haechan laughed and poured another in all 3 cups. after that it was another, and then another, and after about 6 shots you tapped out and opted for a gin and coke that haechan was more than happy to make for you.

more time had passed than you thought as more people flooded the kitchen, wrecking havoc on the choices of liquor, haechan handed you your cup and jaemin motioned for you both to move to the living room. people were dancing, some were playing beer pong off in the corner, and others were chatting on various furniture. ‘want to dance a bit?’ he whispered in your ear because of the loud music that made the floor vibrate under your seat, you could feel it rattling your brain. giving him a silent nod he grabbed your hand and led you through the crowd, finding a spot and finding the rhythm of the song. you bobbed your head to the beat and moved back and forth with jaemin in front of you, you always thought he was attractive, but you saw him nothing more than a friend, you felt comfortable around him. you nursed your drink slowly, already somewhat tipsy from the shots, you didn’t want to get drunk too fast or blackout. jaemin grabbed your free hand and twirled you around, dramatically moved your joined hands with fever. you laughed along with him, indulging him in an embarrassing, yet fun dance that probably made you both look wasted to others.

his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close much to your surprise, pleasanton’tkissmepleasedon’tkissmepleasedon’tkissme ran rampant in your mind as he leaned towards your ear ‘don’t look now, but a certain someone is staring at you from across the room, you let out a strangled breath.

‘do you know who it is?’ you whispered back.

‘jeno’ he mused and your lively spirited fell.

‘whats up? something go down with him?’ he pestered.

‘um, kinda, its a long story’ you faltered and jaemin frowned.

‘damn, that serious? his loss, he can look all he wants’ jaemin wanted to be lighthearted, make you smile again and keep jeno out of your mind. you were grateful as he pulled you into another whimsical dance, the joyful nature of his was infectious.

after a couple more songs had passed, you had downed your whole drink and let go of jaemin’s hand, ‘i’m gonna go find haechan and have him make me another drink, it was surprisingly superb’ jaemin nodded and said he would stay in the same spot for your return.

you hastily made your way to the kitchen, apologizing to others you had to push through. the small room was almost empty, haechan was nowhere in sight so you looked for a different drink. ‘having fun with jaemin?’ a voice boomed from behind you, one that you knew all too well. you slowly turned to find jeno smirking at you, leaning against the fridge adorned in a tight white shirt and ripped jeans, oh fuck this stupid earth, he just had to follow you here looking like that.

‘yes i am, actually’ you stated matter-of-factly.

his lips twitched up in amusement, ‘is that so?’ he moved in closer, eventually trapping you between him and the liquor table. jeno’s soft brown eyes met yours, searching for something inside, however, his eyes told you everything, hope, they screamed. his hand lifted towards your face, slowly brushed against the skin lighter than a feather, taking a piece of your hair and pushing it behind your ear, ‘so he wouldn’t mind this?’. his eyes fluttered closed as he bowed towards you.

before he could seal the deal, ‘jeno’ you stopped him.

he sighed, defeated, ‘just please talk to me, you said the probability was slim, but not zero, let me explain’ jeno begged, his large hands caressed your cheeks tenderly, they were soft and warm.

you could blame the alcohol as you finally let him speak his case, ‘fine, we can find somewhere private’

he smiled, eyes disappearing in relief. he grabbed your hand, leading upstairs and into an empty room, he closed the door behind him as you took a seat on the bed, ‘alright, grovel and explain’ you lifted your phone up to check the time ‘you have 10 minutes’

he gave you a smug smile, ‘that’s all i need baby, you know i love a challenge’ you rolled your eyes at his attempt to uplift the tension fogging the air. ‘that day in the classroom, you obviously didn’t stay long enough to hear what i had to say about you, at first i didn’t know how to respond being put into that position was hard, you didn’t ‘put me through anything’ though, i had nothing but fun with you, even if it was frustrating at times. we always figured it out. but when i heard what she said after i wasn’t just going to allow it, i said ‘yeah i guess one could say that’ because these people literally do not know you like i do, i finished with ‘but everything about that is completely untrue, they are willing to learn, but it's just taking longer than some of us who take a bunch of english and literature classes. if you got to actually know her you’d see how bright they actually are. a literal math genius and a real mastermind of science, could answer any question from the top of their head, it’s insane. so while we are strong in this subject, they are just stronger in other fields’ he explained, watching you intently. you wiggled under his gaze, making you feel same, but itched for him to go on, ‘i then told her that she should not speak on things she knows nothing about and left because i will not associate myself with someone who talks like that about people i care about’ he emphasized the last words carefully, grabbing hold of your hand and lifting you from the bed, ‘y/n, i’m so sorry, it was never my intention to hurt you, ever. i care about you so deeply, you show up in every romance novel i read, every poem i skim, the stories i write… it’s all you’ jeno gazed down at you, his eyes now searching for an answer, hope, and panic could only be found in his as you studied his features in the warm glow of the moon peaking through the window.

‘you really said that? you defended me?’ you questioned him quietly.

‘yes y/n, i would never let anyone hurt you, even if you aren’t in the room, because in that case, they hurt me too’

you hummed, the haze of your brain clouded any judgment you held, he was something different, the greatest math problem that needed to be solved. ‘thank you jeno, i guess it’s now my turn to apologize’

he chuckled at you, ‘no need baby’ you laughed softly, ‘now, can we pick up where we left off? you know, someone once told me that pride and prejudice wasn’t written in a day’ he wagged his eyebrows at you, moving you into an embrace as he kissed the top of your head. you held on tightly, holding him as you buried your face into his chest swallowing his scent so you could save it for later.

the hug ended, but he still held you close in his arms, ‘i guess i could pick up another chapter or two’ he laughed at your poor pun and drooped down, so his lips could meet yours. it was messier than the first kissed you shared with him, wet and heated as you could taste the soju on his tongue. he moved at a faster pace, devouring you like an animal, jeno walked you towards the bed, you gave in falling down with him, with him climbing on top of you, never breaking away. teeth on teeth echoed throughout the room as you moaned, his hands exploring every part of your body, making your core burn more and more.

jeno dipped down to attack your neck in kisses and sucking at the exposed skin, hands finding a way to his hair and tugging slightly at the intimate feeling of him being closer than ever. ‘please, tell me you’re mine, please want me’ he breathed out, the air softly hitting your ear, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. he was desperate, kissing you anywhere he could and waited for you to answer.

‘y-yes jeno, i’m yours’ you choked out, ‘i want you in every way’ satisfied with your response he growled and his mouth met yours once more, ‘p-please touch me’ you begged frantically, needing anything to ease the sensation that pooled in the pits of your stomach.

jeno hummed, fingers brushing up and down your exposed stomach, ‘where baby? use your words, remember what i taught you?’ it was your turn to make demands now, wasting no time you grabbed his hand and brought it down between your legs, he cupped your vagina. you groaned, you needed more. jeno grabbed the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down and threw them behind him, the cool air hit your core making you rub your thighs together in order to find little warmth.

he carefully pulled your underwear down, wanting to savor the moment of finally seeing you bare, he gulped, ‘god, you have such a pretty pussy’ he took his hand and rubbed the sensitive skin, ‘so wet. just for me, right? all for me baby’ you cried out at his words. he inserted a finger into your weeping hole, making you gasp out in surprise at the feeling of just one finger filling you up dangerously. as he pushed back and forth your legs trembled, he added another finger and brought his head down to your core, ‘i bet you taste amazing’ was all he said before he dove in deep, his tongue against your clit as he drank up your juices and sucked on the flesh.

‘f-fuck’ you mewled, grabbed a hold of his soft, black hair in order to keep you grounded, with every thrust he made as he fucked with his mouth you tugged on his hair, pulling when you would feel the band about to snap, jeno groaned, loving the way you’d use him for stability.

he stopped and removed his face, you whined from the loss of contact as his fingers also found their way outside of you, he smiled ‘don’t worry, my pretty baby, i’ll take care of you’. he threw off his shirt nearly getting drunker with the way you were taking him in, he loved being adored by you, in such a calculated way that made sense in every story. you followed suit and removed your top and bra, baring naked in front of him and laid back on the bed as he admired you from afar, ‘you’re so beautiful’ he breathed, discarding his pants and underwear he crawled back on top of you, whispering sweet nothing's as he peppered your collarbone and breasts with kisses.

‘are you sure you want this? it might hurt a little at first, but i promise i’ll go slow until you tell me otherwise’ he towered over you.

your glassy eyes met his in reassurance, ‘yes, jeno i want this’ you confirmed everything for him. he quickly lined up his cock with your cunt and gently pushed inside, his eyes never leaving yours. your hands grasped around his muscled biceps, digging your nails into them when the pain was strong. once he bottomed out he stopped to let you get used to his size, you shared sensual kisses and sweet touches, jeno doing everything in his power to make you feel loved and safe at that moment going forward, that’s all he ever wanted to do. for weeks, he had been beating himself up for taking the teasing comments way too far at times, poking fun at something you were obviously insecure about, but you did the same, he figured it was kind of the thing you two had. in reality, he wanted to push you to do better, making comments like that so you’d work harder and prove everyone wrong. no one could work with you better than him, so he had gone out of his way to ask the pressor to pair you up on the project, also making the forced proximity making you talk to him after you stopped answering his calls and messages. he should have gone a better way about motivating you, but now that he had your forgiveness, he could work on better strategies.

‘jeno, you can move now’ you rasped out, still holding on his arms like an anchor with a boat. he pulled out and pushed back in, taking it slow as you moaned at the feeling of him filling you up to the brim, jeno picked up the pace, setting a steady rhythm as skin clapping together filled the room, ‘oh fuck, just like that’ your chest heaving up and down.

he slammed into with vigor, bitting your bottom lip as you opened your mouth to let out a breathless moan, ‘yeah? you like that? fuck, you’re so tight, literally sucking me in, i never want to leave this pretty fucking pussy’ he husked, he licked your lips and kissed your jaw as he grunted, setting a faster pace, making you cry out in pleasure. he grabbed your legs and opened them wider, giving him better access to go deeper into your abused cunt. you cried as the flame in your belly raged with a thousand fires, ‘keep your eyes on me baby’ jeno demanded, automatically making you swallow as you moved your eyes to meet his, blown out pupils filled with lust as your vision of him became blurry as blissful tears threaten to fall with every snap on his hips digging into you. you’ve had flings and hook-ups before, but nothing as profound as this, the eye contact, togetherness of him never backing too far away from your hold, you were being wholly consumed by jeno. everything right down to your core, he was all you could feel, taste, see, and think about.

‘o-oh my god’ you sobbed, hips jerking up at the feeling of the ripples burning through you, the coil in your stomach tightening, craving to break open, ‘m gonna cum’ you clenched around him, making jeno hiss above you at the feeling of tightness around his throbbing dick.

‘go on baby, cum for me,’ he whimpered as the feeling for him also grew intense, the way your cunt hugged his dick was making his mind spin. jeno mumbled incoherently ‘i’m so close baby, let go, you can let go, i got you’ from his words and the way he pounded into you made you snap, legs trembling as liquid gushed from your core and past his cock and dripped onto the sheets. light-headed and dizzy you cried out for jeno as your orgasm burst over you.

you clenched again, feeling overwhelmed by the euphoric feeling, ‘oh, fuck’ jeno cursed as he stilled inside of you, painting your insides with his seed, he groaned at the sensation of finally filling you up and properly claiming you as his and his alone. he stayed there for a couple of minutes inside of you. savoring the static of the overstimulation and pleasure of release. you winced as the hot liquid poured out of you when he pulled out, the emptiness of it all. jeno watched as his cum slide down your hole and onto the sheet, he scooped up the remaining liquid that rushed out of you and shoved it back into your clit with two fingers, making you cry at the sensitivity. ‘fuck that was… one of the best experiences of my life’ he caught his breath and plopped down facing you, he gently caressed your chin, bringing your head to his as he softly left kisses on your lips, ‘let me get you cleaned up baby’

‘m tired’ you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open.

‘i know, but let me take care of you and get you dressed, i know theres extra clothes somewhere around here’ he started rummaging around the wardrobes, digging into them in order to find anything adequate. ‘aha!’ he put on a clean pair of underwear and sweats, ‘i’ll be right back baby’ he left the room and came back after for what felt like an eternity with a warm wash cloth and clean clothes, ‘these are mark’s girlfriends pj’s i’m sure she won’t mind,’ he hummed, wiping you clean, and dressing you in the soft, clean clothes. he picked you up so he could throw the covers back, tucking you in with a kiss on the nose, ‘you’re so cute’

you lazily smiled at him, settling into the sheets as you clung onto his warm frame, ‘who’s room is this by the way?’ you whispered as jeno shut his eyes.

‘mark’s. doesn’t matter. you’re my girlfriend now right?’ he leaned his head on yours.

‘mmm girlfriend yes. mark who?’ words fell from your mouth as you yawned, sleeping coming to find you soon.

‘mark, shark.’ he dismissed you, ‘just be ready for a stern talk when we wake up from the man himself.’ he kissed your head as you drifted off to sleep, the morning was the least of your worries now, you finally figured out the solution, the obvious answer being: jeno.

[tyunningism]

Fuck me like you mean it !!

── .✦ pairing: h.k x reader

Browsing an adult dating app is the last thing you should be doing when you’re failing your college classes, but who’s to blame you when you’ve got your eye caught on an anonymous user with a hot bod, apart from the nerdy guy in your chem class who’s tutoring you? xx

╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead... …or in simple words… ɴᴇʀᴅ!ᴋᴀɪ x ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᝰ.ᐟ wc - 12.2k words

warnings!! and mentions!! switch!reader, blowjob, sex in public but enclosed space, vulgar language, reader’s a bit mean, stomach bulge, riding, cunnilingus, masturbation, sexting, slight nipple play, fleshlight use, big dick!kai agenda, lots of sex mention but overall quite mild i think !! Might’ve missed some things

tyunningism’s note: I seriously wasn’t planning on getting this done until like early July but every time I have time on my hands I end up coming back to finish off parts of this fic !?? Need to go on a whole course on how to write smut better bc I genuinely feel deenergised + decided to make reader filthy rich as well to add a bit more to her character !!??

“9 assignments Miss L/N.”

Fuck. Literally who decided to make the deadlines for chemistry so short?!! 4 months is barely anything- like- you have a life outside of college too you know?

“Thermodynamics study. Due 4 months ago. Submitted, nothing.

Kinetics research. Due 6 months ago. Submitted, nothing.”

The sound of pages flicking like your professor’s reading a whole criminal case log irritates you, it’s not like you didn’t complete anything?!

“Reactions thesis. Due 7 months ago. Submitted a video of yourself opening up a pair of Louboutins.”

“In my defense professor you didn’t tell me I submitted that video on accident until two days after it was due!”

“And I haven’t received a single updated document from you over the last seven months for that assignment.”

“Touché.” You dust off your pencil skirt too bored out of your mind to spare your babbling professor an ear, admiring the new manicure you got done when you were out in LA during finals last week.

“Ahem. Are you listening Miss L/N? I said at this rate you’re headed towards failing and needing to retake.”

Failing??

Ohmygosh failing!!!

“No you can’t do that Peter! My father’s going to kill me if you fail me this year!! And I need that credit card- so please? Can’t you just let me sneak in to second year?” Seems like batting your eyelashes is too old school now even for your ageing professor.

“It’s Jenkins, Professor Jenkins- remain professional will you? If I permit you to go ahead in to your second year what will I say to the board when they question why you’re lacking behind the rest of the class?”

God, this is unbelievable.

You roll your eyes and slide your manicured hands along his desk to flick to the gradebook with your nail, scanning your eyes along masses of F, F, F, F and oh- a D!!

Grinning like you’ve beat the stupid system you point at the D right next to your name,

“See? A D! That’s enough to get me a spot for next year right?”

“If you’re looking to apply for mopping the hallways of the Chemistry lecture halls then sure, but your grade has consistently failed to meet a pass in both semesters. I can’t figure why you qualified for this course when you show no skills nor interest in studying Chemistry.” He raises his eyebrows for your answer but all you can focus on is the huge zit between the wrinkles lining up on his forehead..gross.

Well, you don’t really know why you picked Chemistry because your brain can’t even handle the easiest topics apart from getting the mclaren you wanted for you birthday if you went ahead with it. Your father can’t blame you if you’re ass at the course can he?

You chew on the fat of your bottom lip, eyes squinting to observe your professor’s physiognomy: wrinkles carved in to his dehydrated skin, the coriander loosely hanging in between his teeth as he speaks and a balding head with hedgerows of graying hair sticking out measly. No way in hell are you sleeping with him for some stupid grade- at least save it for Professor Duncan who’ll fabricate a top grade in your Politics class if you send him some pictures (Haven’t tested the theory yet, but Momo’s sister said it worked and she graduated just fine).

By the looks of it you can’t fake your grades with a bit of daddy’s money like you did in Highschool to get you where you’re at right now, the Cartier watch that released this summer is glistening around his wrist and of course you can’t help but admire !! If the rumours are true he probably got it from his sugar mommy half his age, yeah..better to keep those emergency funds for the new collection miu miu’s dropping.

“This is serious Miss, staring at my face isn’t going to cut it.”

Fuck, now your old bum of a professor thinks you were checking him out. Even if he was the last man on earth you wouldn’t spare him a look..

“So, I’ve set you up with the top student for some tutoring sessions over the next couple of weeks, and an exam at the end of summer which will decide whether I can give you a pass in to next year. Take this as a warning, make use of Taehyun as best as you-“

Burning sensations sting in your palms which now laid slammed on to the mahogany of the wooden lectern. Taehyun? As in Kang Taehyun who you gave a wedgie to in 5th grade? What makes this old fart think that nerd won’t try to sabotage you instead of tutoring you?

“No! I’m not being tutored by that freak!” Steam is blowing from your nose as you utter the insulting words with defiance.

“I don’t see the issue with a well qualified student like Tae-“

“I’m sure the headmaster won’t see an issue when I show her the Venezuelan model you’ve been seeing on campus grounds either.”

It’s so rewarding to see him swallow his next words and close the gradebook in defeat.

Guess the rumours are true after all,

“Fine. I’ll ask Kai if he’s up for some extra credit.”

Except this time the name doesn’t ring a bell, hell- was there ever a Kai in your lecture hall? Sounds like he’s been celibate his whole life!

Shit, he’s been celibate his whole life.

The endless tapping of your pen starts to become monotonous in the silence of the library. If only your father didn’t threaten to freeze your card if you didn’t attempt to try and learn for once then you wouldn’t even think of showing up in a place like this. Megan was supposed to be bringing her hot brother to lunch today too..

The timid male doesn’t seem to speak much either, he keeps to himself and talks strictly in whispers as he goes over what he’ll be tutoring with you over the next week, dumb chemical reactions and what not..can’t you just graduate, get a degree and leave the actual work to people like Kai instead?

Kai’s some silent guy who sits at the very front of the lecture hall. Always clad in something loose like a hoodie even when it’s sweltering in Summer and religiously reserved to himself although he usually sits next to, gag, Taehyun.

Anyone else would say they see the back of his head more than they see his face and it applies to you too, always sat at the very back in your designated seats with your friends and scrolling Instagram, or better even, gossiping about the new hidden gem you guys found out about a couple weeks ago.

“Let’s arrange a meeting every..hm.. Tuesday?” His voice is hushed and gentle, barely above a whisper.

You lean across the small desk space offered to you with your hands intertwined and nestled below your chin.

“Say Kai, do you have Winkchat?”

Pretty amusing to watch him gulp and look down at his feet at the mention, a nerd like him probably has an insta feed filled with philosophical quotes or some shit, let alone an account on an 18+ dating app.

A hand leaves its spot from under your chin to brush the hair covering his eyes away; what’s the point of having those thickly framed glasses if he’s going to have his hair covering his eyes anyway?

But seems like your hospitality hasn’t grown on him at all because he flinches back so cartoonishly even if your finger is miles away from his face.

“S-Sorry!!! I was just startled, uhm..no I don’t have it.”

“Pfft, you don’t have to be tense with me Kai, promise I don’t bite.”

“Yeah..I know.”

If only you could see how he’s beating himself up over being so awkward right now. Of course he knows you, besides Taehyun’s never ending rants about the time you lied about having a crush on him in middle school upon piles and piles of other stories, Kai has known you for longer than you think.

The college’s princess, you and your friends are always walking around the campus with everyone spun and weaved around your finger like marionettes. There’s always a trail of the college’s varsity team trailing behind with their tongues panting at the sway of your hips and the stretch of your signature pink miniskirt your father shipped from Italy saddled on it. Heaps of shopping bags worth five times his tuition clung to their biceps; following you mindlessly like brain-dead zombies to load them in to the back of your sports car among countless others he can’t name.

You live a glamorous life in your tiny 6 inch heels and perfectly styled curls, dainty sunglasses buried pristinely on top of the crown of your head like embedded jewels that could feed a whole country if you ever bothered to auction them.

But he’s known of your prima donna life since he first started volunteering at a nearby animal shelter in high school, watching discreetly behind the shelves of donated food as you squat down to coo at a siamese the shelter’s been homing for years. Every Sunday he would wait for you patiently to enter through the double doors with your black Hermès handbag, all to drop it off in the volunteer room to change in to a poorly weaved ‘volunteer’ apron so you could help clean the cubicles and cages.

Kai doubts anyone else on campus has seen you more authentically than he has. After he stopped volunteering there he would take the longer route on his walk back to his apartment, walking past the shelter just to peep if your flashy sports car was still parked there as usual on Sunday. He doesn’t know when he pushed the whole ‘puppy love’ agenda by having a fat crush on you, he doubts you even notice him among the list of all the other guys head over heels for you.

”My friend Momo told me you’re a genius isn’t that like so crazy? Can’t believe people like you really exist and aren’t some super duper realistic robots made to only study maths and science. Oh my God- do you watch shows? Do you like..know who Rihanna is?”

His mouth drops absurdly in confusion; did he really seem that out of touch and abnormal to you?

“I do..maybe it doesn’t seem that way.”

What comes next is not what he was expecting because you’re clutching on to your stomach howling in laughter which only makes him frantic and wave his hands about to quiet you down before you both get kicked out of the library.

“Ahah- awhh, you’re so adorable Kai. I was only joking~ don’t get your panties in a twist over it.” Something please swallow him whole right now so you can’t see the beet red starting to grow on his face.

“Psst! Come on Y/N!! Sunghoon’s gonna take us carpooling downtown, don’t cancel on us now.”

An ecstatic Sullyoon rocks against the metal frame of the balcony above the library, beckoning you to join her and your other friends in to skipping classes again.

“Wait! I’m coming give me a second!” Packing the blank-paged note book and pens in to your bag you lock eyes with the strands of hair still blocking his,

“Sorry Kai! I know this isn’t ideal but I need to go like really really desperately so I’ll text you the details for the next session yeah?” A phone slides right in front of him on complete brightness which makes him wince, an empty contact page. The second he types in his phone number you hurry off in to the distance, the six inch heels strutting away still rings in his head minutes after you leave the library, still giddy he finally got to talk to you.

Out on the college parking lot is Sunghoon’s parked Cadillac convertible with a couple of girls including Sullyoon and Momo leaning against it while they conversed with him.

“Hey princess.” The taller male whistles at you with an all-too recognisable girl sweetly attached to his arm.

“Why call me over if you’ve got company? I don’t carpool if I’m not in the passenger seat.” Your hand digs in to your handbag for a pack of tissues which you offer to Rue, who’s still clinging on to Sunghoon’s arm.

“You’re starting to sweat on your nose beautiful, we don’t want that in your car do we Hoon?” A voice so alluring could make Sunghoon sign off to enlist his whole life serving in your name, triggering Sullyoon and Momo in to boisterous laughter when he shakes Rue off him slightly too aggressively to save her any face.

“Quick, hop in losers!” Sullyoon beckons.

“Ugh fuck!” The discarded girl watches as you buckle yourself in to the front seat of the leather-back rest as a slender hand tussles through your hair to frame your face in harmony with the sun.

“Oh, and tell your brother thanks for the manicure by the way~ Ask him if my cunt tasted good.” With that, Sunghoon presses down on the accelerator which carries you out of campus grounds and on to the high way with dangerous ease.

“Wooo!! You’re such a bitch Y/N don’t get me wet now.” Momo leans forward and swings her arms around you with a beer can loosely held in her hand, a smile forms on your face watching Sullyoon drag her back in to the back seat before they got fined for not having seatbelts on at this speed.

“What else can you expect of our college princess? That bitch really has some nerve trying to climb in to our circle through Hoon, and you horny fucker let her!” An aggravated Sullyoon kicks the back of Sunghoon’s seat playfully all the while recording the blocks of apartments and houses flash by in laughter.

“I think she’s quite cute is she not? Still pales in comparison next to you though.” Additional warmth from Sunghoon’s hand resting on your thigh triggers you to open your mouth again,

“Gross, you’re like a brother to me Hoon.”

“Oh really? Sunghoon told us he fucked you stupid at the birthday party he threw for you.”

And this is why you should’ve kept your loud mouth shut.

A questioning eye burns through Sunghoon’s conscience,

“Hoon!! Why would you tell them that?! And for clarification I fucked him stupid, not the other way round and it sucked.”

Sunghoon chuckles but with an underlying tone; like he’s pissed off by your bold accusation (the truth) because it hurt his fragile masculinity by a mile.

“Sounds like someone needs to get laid.”

“Yeah, I’m aware, thanks Hoon.”

“Didn’t I tell you to try out Winkchat?” Just hearing the words come out of Sullyoon’s mouth makes you groan in frustration.

“I have standards baby, I’m not going to fuck the first guy I see on my recommended because his limp dick flashed me when I opened up the goddamn app.”

“But the moment you hit gold like Sullyoon did with her man you’ll be addicted literally.”

Fine. You’ll give the stupid sexting app another chance.

Unlocking your phone you swipe among hundreds of other apps to tap on to the pink icon, thousands of message requests and notifications flooding your account with just a photo of your face and an a-line shirt is enough to drive any man crazy in this day and age.

As you expected to see on the explore page, another tiny weiner pic. No chance.

Some gym bro in Manhattan who spent all his effort in his arms and no where else and now looks top heavy, laughable.

And a man who dresses like we’re stuck in the 1800s.. what great luck do you have.

Just as you’re about to swipe off the app and delete the tab your thumb accidentally swipes to the next profile.

A subtle picture of a hand discreetly lifting up a band tee, teasing, revealing only a fraction of dimly shaded but defined abs under neath from a low angle, a long etched dragon tattoo running between the ridges of muscle and painted with a slight beauty mark.

There’s no face in any of the profile’s slides at all but it’s enough to captivate your eye, ranging only from pictures of his abs to a video of him playing guitar, a freshly made account by the looks it with nothing else in the bio except his age and the city you were also in. Jack pot, a straight friend request to user ‘kkh.txt’.

An arm reaches to snatch your phone away out of your hands. “You’ve been silent this whole time because you’re back on Winkchat tut-tut, knew you’d be hooked. And hey who is this!! He’s got a hot bod, shame you can’t see what he looks like.” Momo snatches the phone off Sullyoon to inspect the same montage of abs, tattoos and guitar playing videos.

“I can tell he’s hot just by looking at the posts, he’s not pushy with it or flashing his shit, he knows he’s sexy as hell geez.”

“Not that I care about what he looks like, that tattoo on his stomach fuckk come my way!” You snatch your phone back and take a couple of screenshots of his profile to save for..later. But Sunghoon has other plans,

“Let’s head to the tattoo shop actually I’ve been wanting to-“

“Don’t even think about it Hoon. I’d actually retch on the spot if you came out with one of those tacky poorly coloured rose tattoos.” Momo jokes, which sparks more anger in Sunghoon’s already fuming head.

“Ah! I forgot I was going to ask, how’s that nerd who’s tutoring you? Is he not super sweaty in that hoodie?”

How were you supposed to know Sullyoon?!!

“Hmm, he’s a bit awkward and all over the place. But he’s quite cute actually, in the sense that he’s entertaining to watch because he flinches at everything.” The events of trying to brush away his hair replays in your mind again, yeah he’s probably never felt a woman’s touch before.

“So would you fuck him?” Sunghoon mutters through gritted teeth like he’ll explode if you said something he didn’t like.

But honestly? Yeah you’d fuck a nerd. It’s the ego boost that really gets you going and the way they practically yearn for a bit of action on their virgin dicks, exactly your type really as much as you’d hate to admit.

“Why not, he’s got pretty lips and he’s tall.”

“Eww!! The bar is in hell girl.” Momo sticks two fingers in her mouth and retches a fake gag.

“Watch it be the next new trend to fuck nerds the moment word gets out that she does, that’s so fucking hilarious!”

All the talk about it being gross doesn’t put you off though, in fact it only intrigues you further, what if Kai could eat pussy like a champ? It’s not like it’s a crime to try is it?

“I can’t believe her.” Taehyun scowls through his bared canines. He jabs his cutlet with a plastic fork from the campus’ canteen and lifts it on to Kai’s plate.

“Hearing her name is enough to ruin my appetite.”

Kai, who gladly accepts the cutlet, pays no mind to the start of what’s going to be another of those ‘Taehyun’ rants about you that never end. Instead his eyes are glued to his faint reflection in the glass behind his best friend.

“I think she’s quite nice. Better than what you’d expect from how devilish you describe her.”

“Because she is the devil Kai! Have you not been listening to all those traumatic sufferings I’ve had to deal with since 5th grade because of her?” Taehyun pushes up the round thick glasses back up his nose, the outdated kind you’d expect to see in a retirement home and not someone in their early 20s.

“I think you’re being dramatic Tyun.”

“You think I’m being dramatic? That spawn from heck freaking ditched you thirty minutes early today! She treats people like they’re insects.”

Not that Kai would mind if you treated him like an insect, he’s already over the moon that you acknowledged he exists today.

“Do you think I should get a haircut?”

The suddenness of the question knocks the air out Taehyun’s lungs, causing him to cough and spit all over his (and Kai’s) food, a hand quickly grasping for water which only makes it worse.

“W-what?! Since when did you care so much about how you looked Kai..I thought you liked it long!”

He does like it long, but he also wants to prevents another woeful incident where he flinches away simply because you wanted to move the hair out of his face.

“I do it’s just more..convenient? I might ask Beomgyu if he can take me to his uncle’s barber shop later once he finishes Chess Society after lunch.”

The answer is straight from the heart and sincere so of course Taehyun can’t say no! Not to an angel like Kai who people pleases everyone at the chance.

That’s when he sees it, a small ping!- that lights up his phone to reveal a lock screen of some anime character you for sure wouldn’t be able to name.

‘y/n.553 sent you a chat request, chat back to her now ❤️🔥’

His eyes nearly jump out of his head. It can’t be, right? Just someone with the same name, just a mere coincidence.

“I’ll catch you later Taehyun I need to go submit in something.”

Regardless of the other man’s bewildered cries, he leaves in a hurry with his phone clutched tight in his clammy hands and right in to the men’s bathrooms. Not the greatest place he could hide his screen right now but it’s all that came to mind.

Defintely you. He can’t mistake that face for anyone else. Your profile isn’t even completed, only filling two out of three slides with a selfie and a beach photo that you also posted to your instagram, but the flame next to your name suggests you’re receiving loads of requests and a hot topic anywhere, even on dating apps.

Originally, he created an account to boost his confidence about the abs he worked on all through last summer after being stuck on gym propaganda while Beomgyu was crashing at his apartment; except Beomgyu’s motivation to become the bulky ‘jock’ and not a neek he aspired to be died within the first week of training.

It’s what pitched Kai to get a tattoo in the first place when he realised how big of a turn on it was for women who started to flood his profile with messages. Nothing more nothing less than a side practice to keep his confidence up a bit when he was basically invisible to the rest of his peers in real life.

Though this, this is different. Something more electrifying, experimental and dangerous if he had the guts to reply back; a shaky index lightly hovers over the ‘message’ button next to your icon, shit he’s doing it.

y/n.553: Youre hot. Where did u get the tattoo frm

Truth be told Kai doesn’t know how to make an impression on you, all he knows is that as long as you’re unaware it’s him, he can make as bold of a persona as he likes.

You: Downtown at Ink-lution. Heard of it before pretty?

y/n.553: No but it sounds niche thats so hot

y/n.553: thats the equivalent of buying me a necklace and choosing Chopard

All the names you’re throwing at him are cryptic in his mind, still thinking of what to respond without letting his awkwardness seep through as he leans an arm against the stall door.

you: yeah I wasnt gonna get it at first but im glad I did.

y/n.553: Asking for a friend do you have more ab pics x

Ab pics? Now? He infers you must’ve liked the profile he’d meticulously picked out if you were asking not so secretly for more pictures of his abdomen. Kai’s not going to say no to you though, he’s more enthusiastic than he ever has been to lift up the entirety of his hoodie just below his nipples and test a couple of angles and lighting. Must’ve kept you waiting with how long it took for him to decide on which to send out of the billions he took, but he settles on a simple photo, leaned back against the stall door and a full shot of his abs only on surface level, but if your eyes wandered you’d spot the purposely unzipped fly of his jeans to reveal a pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

When he hit send he expected a quick thank you or something commenting on the photo, but after 5 minutes there was nothing on your end making him doubt in all the decisions he made in taking the photo or even the way he texted you since the start.

Yet through the screen he can’t see the sweat beading down your forehead nor the hand snug between your thighs. Your back arches like a sculpture from the comfort of your mattress as your fingers naïvely dance around your core, flicking and rubbing mindlessly at a sore clit you just can’t seem to get the pleasure out of to orgasm!!

There’s no way in telling whether the unzipped fly was intentional or not but the subtle naughtiness of it makes your mouth drool at the thought. Whoever this was you needed to fuck, now, like real bad.

Stained fingers are wiped along the bare of your chest as you swipe off the photo to send a voice message, needy and dripping with want.

“Can you..please say something crazy, fuck I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Kai jumps from how breathy you sound, instinctively turning down the volume just so he could hear your voice. He thinks he’s going to go insane from how desperate you sound through breathless panting; you’re touching yourself to his photos and that’s enough to make his knees buckle in and tighten his boxer briefs.

He checks to make sure no one else is within earshot of him before he says the most humiliating line in his decades of living; something completely stolen from a crappy porn site he found himself on a couple days ago. He nervously presses down on the record button and hushes his voice an octave lower than usual,

“Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Looks as if you couldn’t decipher that the voice belonged to him because you only respond with a photo of your dripping cunt, leaking your juices on to your bed sheets where two manicured fingers spread open your gaping hole.

y/n.553: want you to fill it up, pls?

Slight confession though- Kai’s never touched let alone sexted a woman before, he’s still vaguely new to the whole sending nudes thing; but the ache in his pants and the lewd material enveloping his brain only increases his blood pressure by gallons directly headed towards his dick.

He remembers watching a guy do a whole step to step tutorial on how to jerk off extra good, having to lubricate his hand with a glob of his own spit and giving himself a couple of beginner strokes. Whenever his hand lightly rubs along one of the sensitive veins that grows thicker towards the base of his cock he hisses, having to pause or else he’ll cum on the spot just from imagining you.

[kkh.txt sent you an attachment]

Your jaw fucking drops is an understatement.

Withdrawing from your attempts at a second orgasm and sitting up straight on your bed to analyse the dick pic the anonymous user had sent was a new experience for sure.

He’s huge. God he’s monstrous even. Coke can girth you’d only expect to see on those heavily edited porn thumbnails and curved with a bulbous tip which sits prettily above the bulging veins leading to it. A pearl-like bead of pre-cum emerging from his pink dusted tip!! <3

There’s pretty much hearts in your eyes as you rush towards your wardrobe of your secret stash of sex toys hidden in a glittery pink box below your handbag collection; a couple of handcuffs and vibrators are strewn against the carpet in the process but you eventually find what you were looking for.

A 7.2 inch silicone dildo you stupidly assumed you could handle when you bought it six months ago, but the stretch of it was so insane you couldn’t think properly as you tried to sink down on it, and now when you compare it to the picture the anonymous tattoo guy had sent you can immediately tell the flimsy piece of silicone was no match for him.

y/n.553: ❤️

y/n.553: how big r u? looks huge

Kai gulps because he genuinely doesn’t know, he’s never thought of himself as huge even if he knew he definitely wasn’t small down there either. If he was attempting to measure with his hand which isn’t too far off the size of his dick then he guesses it would be around 8 inches.

kkh.txt: Uhm, never rlly measured but im guessing 8 inches.

8 inches?!! You’d have to make a trip to the ER if you ever let that thing inside of you!

You crawl to the full length mirror and spread your knees apart to sit back down on your legs, the dildo placed in the gap between as you watched where it reached in the mirror to quickly snap a photo.

y/n.553: This is only 7 inches..imagine how full youd make me feel with 8..

Kai’s face burns as he observes the way your hand points at where you’d feel him in your stomach, there’s something so sexy in the way you talk that makes Kai feel light headed and drunk on your sex energy. All he can think of is how he’d absolutely break you if he ever got too harsh with you and if that’s the case he’s fine with paying any medical fees !!

Over the past week you’ve dedicated all your time you usually would spend on shopping or getting your hair styled has been directly spent on messaging the hot tattoo guy on WinkChat. Momo’s right- the moment you’re hooked it’s impossible to stop.

Except one thing that’s frustrating you out of your mind and the sole reason for the graying hairs ready to pop out of your scalp any moment now; you seriously know nothing about the guy and it doesn’t sound like he’ll ever share anything about him or his whereabouts before you could even get a taste of the big dick heaven that should be awaiting you.

Which is why you’re complaining to Momo over the phone right now with a bowl of acai in your hands,

“I’m telling you girl he’s got the biggest dick I’ve ever seen in my life. Oh my god I sounded like a virgin there didn’t I?!”

“Whatt? Even bigger than San in business?” Momo queries, you can hear the soft buzz of tv in the background of her audio; what a bitch! Is your dilemma not entertaining enough for her or something?

“Ehh, San’s big but he’s got no flair to it you know? Feels more like a stone pillar fucking me rather than a monster cock.”

A line of laughter erupts from the other end of the phone at your joke but Momo doubts a faceless guy blessed in the below will be any different to San.

“Ugh it completely skipped over my head that I have tutoring today! The moment my dad sets foot on the soil of this country again I’m going to complain.”

“Tell the nerd guy you’re seeing to tutor you at your house instead of the library, the college princess caught in that stink chamber? No thanks.”

Groaning, you end the call in annoyance, walking up to the pink double doors that led to the marble tile of your walk in closet. Not feeling the miniskirt today you nimbly waiver your hands over the racks of unnecessary clothing starting to build up as clutter.

A light pink baby tee? You wore something similar last week- can’t do that.

Pair of Ed Hardy jeans? It’s way too warm to be wearing those.

Milkmaid tops you’ve never worn in your life? Possibly could work but you’re sure there’s something better, something that would make Kai convulse and foam at the mouth if he saw you.

Got it.

Where were you? Kai’s been sat patiently at the study table he’s reserved for the tutoring session for at least 20 minutes and you still haven’t appeared strutting through the doors. Perhaps you were sick and just forgot to tell him? Or you overslept on accident all the way to 12:45 in the afternoon? It’s okay, he’ll just finish off his thermodynamics extended project in the mean time.

“So sorry Kai! I know I’m late I just had to go to the drugstore it’s super urgent- my favourite La Mer lipgloss ran out and I can’t live without it!”

But Kai can barely register a word you’re saying when you walk in through the doors dressed like this; a blue cropped button-up top which is tied just below your chest to reveal a smidge of your white-laced bra and a pair of light denim shorts branded with diamonds that spelled ‘hot’ across the globe of your ass. Your stomach is on full display which only makes Kai oggle harder retracing to the conversation a couple nights before.

He indirectly measures with his eye how far he would really go if he entered you and believe it or not he doesn’t think it’s humanely possible.

“Still have time to stare through those bangs of yours?” You chuckle loudly at him watching as the timid male be in denial so quickly about you catching him staring, not that you minded or anything if he really was.

“I-I didn’t mean to stare it’s just..don’t you get d-dresscoded for wearing that?”

Shoving his laptop and a couple of loose sheets in to his backpack for him you lean down over the table to try and meet his gaze despite the hair being a barrier,

“Honey, have you seen the art majors? I doubt the college board cares and plus I wanna sit at that table over there, not here.”

Kai can’t even retort back to you even if he’s worried that someone’s reserved the desk for later, distressingly following behind you as you guided him to the very back of the library even he didn’t know about!!

Turns out if you wandered far enough behind the foreign language books that not many people ever think to visit you’d find a small table with cushioned benches to study on.

“Woah..how do you know about this place?”

“My dad donated the chairs and tables for the library so this is the spot my friends and I used to use when we wanted to skip classes, isn’t it sweet?” A sleekly glazed wooden table becomes racked with Kai’s study materials and your once again empty note book and pen within seconds.

The pen in your hand taps lightly against your lip in a rhythmic motion, suddenly deep in thought about something as you made yourself comfortable on the benches.

“I don’t know the answer Kai.”

A confused male looks up from his laptop screen to gaze at you, tilting his head befuddledlby at your strange statement.

“Wha..what? I haven’t asked any questions yet..”

A new set of fresh acrylics tap gently at the pop quiz sheet Kai had constructed to see where you were at in your basically non-existent knowledge of chemistry.

“I don’t know anything on that sheet Kai, we’re going to have to go basics.” You jut your lip out in to a pout and play with the loose thread emerging from Kai’s sage cotton sweater at the wrists,

“Can we start off slow?~ I don’t think I can handle all of it.”

It’s like a massive lump has just blocked his ability to speak since your effect on him is so strong, he’s unsure of whether you know how teasing your words can sound in a different context or if you’re just really empty-headed and all-over-the place.

“Uhm..y-yeah. Should we start off with atomic structure then?” His stutters become more prominent the more he feels under pressure from your sly gaze; brewing something scandalous in your irises as you take the image of a nervous Kai as your key ingredient.

“Okay so..uhm there’s quite a lot of note taking in this part so if I go uh..too fast just let me know.”

The bubbling curiosity within you is distracting yourself from the familiarity of his voice you can’t quite put your finger on, all too focused on wanting to see the eyes of the bashful nerd you’ve got on your hands for the next hour.

“So the basics are that the atom consists of protons and neutrons in the nucleus and- nghh.”

One hand flies straight up to slap against his mouth, completely in utter shock at the explicit moan that sounded through his lips, another hand holding strictly against the flat of your heel which was pressed directly over his crotch to restrict it from moving any further.

His mouth is open wide in shock and quivering like he’ll bust if you moved your foot a single inch,

“I didn’t get the rest of that Kai, can you repeat it?”

Kai looks over with near tears in his eyes, there’s no way this is happening right- did you finally figure out kkh.txt was him? His whole world is flipping upside down as the growing erection in his sweats becomes more unbearable by the second; he can already see the headlines of college gossip coming after him- ‘pervert nerd gets hard in the library over a heel’. Fuck he’s doomed.

“U-uhm. So..” His voice can’t seem to pick back up on the information dump he was spouting seconds before, quivering lips and a shaky voice like he’s about to start crying.

“The electrons..are fuck, they’re in fixed energy s-shells we learnt that in middle s-school.” The grip on your heel is tight, but all that you need is to slip your foot out of the restraints, dragging down the flexing muscles in his thigh from how stiff he’s becoming, it’s cute really.

“Are we..are we really going to do this here?” His voice cracks as he shivers from your touch,

“Well, do you want me to continue Kai? No one will spot us back here~”

No words come out of him with the exception of a hum and a weak nod.

“Kai, I need words, will you let me make you feel good?”

There’s tears awaiting to spill from his eyes because he’s so embarrassed that this is how his first time is headed, but he would sell his soul for you to touch him just once, so hard in his sweats he might come undone from your gaze alone.

“Please..want it” In a voice so meek and timid all you can do is coo at him, turning around the table to stand up in front of him with a finger glamourised with rings that felt cold and bared against the clammy warmth of his cheek and it’s like he doesn’t even try to breathe when you’re in front of him.

In one swift motion you lift up the soft trenches of hair covering his eyes to reveal a set of soft brown irises; endearing and fucking gorgeous?!! Kai’s inherited the kind of eyes that make men go to war with how soft and pleading they are; beautifully adorned with glistening tears from how desperate he is for release adjourned with the rosy speckles dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The whole sight is everything you want in a man- weak, pining and tearful just for you !! ><

The absolute control you have over his lust only dampens your victoria’s secret panties you’re sure to gift Kai later for how good he’s being for you right now, leaning down to give him a quick peck he’s scrambling all the depths of his mind to figure out how to respond to.

“God you’re so adorable I fucking crave for cute nerds like you Kai, wanna see what you’ve got under the-“

“C-can I keep the sweater on?” Kai questions in a soft tone, but seriously? Fucking in a library with a sweater on? Whatever, he’s probably just over complicating things or doubting his frame but you could care less about any of it right now; especially when you’ve become engrossed with the natural-born pleading face this man just comes with!!

You give him a quick nod before removing the headband from your head and brushing back his bangs with it gently,

“Wanna see your face when I make you feel good okay pretty boy?” Shit. Kai could cum untouched right now with how you’re making his mind spin with the compliments, his thought process is lagging behind ten times its normal rate when you lean down to pull down his sweats with a hooked finger.

But in that tiny head of yours you couldn’t imagine Kai to be any bigger than around 4 inches assuming that he’s never been able to reach a girl with it. Likewise, you even prepared to ruin him with your throat alone; he looks as if he’d be so easy to excruciate pleasure out a tiny dick, he’d probably cum within seconds <3

But for Kai to be about 8- no, more than that with how it’s still growing in your hand, probably 8.2 inches and thick enough to tear your mouth if he really wanted to..

All colour drains from your face as you admire in both shock and fear..honestly you don’t even know if you can even handle a monster like this, the thought of it entering you sending shivers down your spine. You don’t even realise you’re drooling on to the floor from staring at the way your hand can barely wrap around the circumference of it. Who knew a nerd packing all of this would’ve slipped right under your nose?

Kai’s not keeping up well either, clenching down on his teeth and gripping the edge of the bench as best as he can to prevent himself from leaking anymore trails of precum from his painfully red tip. He just can’t help himself when he sees you on your knees all laid out prettily for him as your eyes sparkle every single time he twitches when your finger runs along his vein. His breathing fastens when he locks his eyes on the slight curve of your chest as you admire him so openly- boosting his ego to the moon.

“Kai..you’re- you’re fucking huge. I don’t know if I can take it.” You whine and point a dainty finger at your throat with a pout, brows in panic from imagining the stretch like you’re telling him he’s too big for you to handle, too big for you to fit all of him in and Kai has to hold back from releasing all over your face if he deeps your words again too much.

Nonetheless you’re still begging to get a taste of him now that you know his true potential. Giving sweet little kitten licks around his flushed tip, using two fingers to lightly squeeze around it for another glob of precum to leak out of his slit.

“Taste so good pretty, just be good for me okay?”

Your unoccupied hand reaches to fondle Kai’s balls as your pop his tip fully in to your mouth, lapping your tongue around in a swirling motion which makes him shut close his eyes and dig his fingernails in to the cushion of the bench even further.

Pulling off of him with a pop!- A glob of spit lands in your hand, the strings of saliva still connected to your lip as you lube his cock with your fluids, preparing yourself before hand so you have a better attempt of taking him all in !! <3

The heaviness of his cock twitches uncontrollably as you twist your wrist along his shaft, the receptors in his veins pulsing and sending waves of pleasure in to his blood stream every time you squeezed a bit too hard around one of them.

“P-please ah! Don’t tease..” Poor boy has tear stains around his eyes from how hard he’s constraining himself, his thighs are flexed so hard they’re seconds away from cramping and his lips are on the verge of drawing blood if he bites down any harder.

“Mmhm.” You hum around him as you start to take him in deeper, not even half way when you have to stop to let your throat adjust, suctioning around him so tightly he’d rather die than let you go. The moment you feel your throat retract you push further down past half way until it physically felt impossible for you to reach or deepthroat, using your hand to jerk whatever length you couldn’t reach.

The usual neatness of your hair comes apart in seconds the moment you start to pick up the pace, head bobbing up and down as you tie your hair with your other hand in to a makeshift ponytail. Occasionally, you’d gag whenever you felt his hips start to buck in to your throat with need, the extra unexpected length pushing you to tears.

The obscenity of the lewd noises of fluids and spit, whenever you lips detached from it to lick long stripes along the curve of his cock, mascara starting to collect at your undereye from tears caused by the stretch of him in your throat.

Kai believes he’s on a completely different universe by now. There’s no thoughts in his head apart from how pretty you looked and how close he was to cumming down your throat, the scene so erotic it’s more addicting than any other variation of porn or hentai he’s ever watched in the sanctity of his apartment- fuck it’s more than that, he wants to burn this image of you in to his mind forever so that he can use it for later.

“Shit Y/N nghh! I’m going to cum you need to augh!- wait..” The blissed male attempts to pry you off of him with screwed shut eyes fearful he was going to cum down your throat, but you do anything but that. Instead you nuzzle your chin all the way down to the furthest point you can reach and jerk him off; waiting for the warmth of his cum to shoot far down your throat for you to swallow.

“W-wait!! I really am going to cum, fuck mmh!~ I-is it really okay?” Whatever he’s pleading doesn’t matter because the next thing you know he’s splurging the thickest load you’ve ever had to swallow, dragging down your throat with high viscosity. Some of it drips down the corner of your lips as he smears his sensitive tip along your beaming smile.

“You did so well for me baby, you’ll have to let me do this more often- wanna see how far I can really go.” Opening up a pack of makeup wipes you clean up the mascara stains and pack your things up, leaving Kai speechless, hot and bothered and also another tutoring session gone to waste.

“I need to see results. Going to tutoring and coming back with no notes is never going to stick in your brain.” The bellow of your father’s voice echoes through the halls of your empty house- he’s come back from his annual business trip and what do you have to show you’ve been working? Absolutely nil, zero nothing.

Groaning, you call over a nanny to set up the plates, you’re not going to sit down for dinner with a father who’s going to moan at you all day for making you choose a course you can’t do!

“I am working !! We went over like electrons and proteins and stuff of that sort.”

“By working you mean pressuring someone in to telling you all the information while you post all sorts of stupid photos!”

“It’s instagram you old fart! The version of like facebook or something for your millennia! Anyways I need to go because Megan’s calling me to go shopping with her at the night plaza asap.” Earrings and hoops among other clattering items like studded belts and heels ring behind you as you start to walk off in the same clacky-heels you always wear.

“I’ve suspended all of your bank accounts.”

“Nice try father, stores still use cash nowadays.”

“The maids found your cash stack in the small compartment below your vanity.”

That’s your breaking point.

“Father!! You can’t just let them go snooping in my room like that!” Oh you’re fuming- what’s going to happen next? They find your secret sex toy collection and then your father’s going to have to take away your closet?

“Tell the boy who tutors you to come around next Friday for dinner, I want to see that you’re at least trying to learn.”

“Fine! But only if you hand me back everything after.” Boiling with rage you shove past the maids by the door and up the cold marble stairs, if you weren’t aiming for more hair growth this summer you would’ve definitely ripped out more than a couple strands by now.

Reaching your bedroom you finally slump on top of a pile of eiderdown pillows, whipping out your phone to message Kai about the arrangement.

Speaking of Kai, you think you’ve gone insane.

Ever since you left the library that day you couldn’t forget the imprint of his dick in your throat and the needy look in his eye. His moans were literal heaven to your ears, so sensitive and breathy you seriously couldn’t get enough of it!! However the downside now is that you can’t even get off your fingers anymore because now all that you desire is Kai, like he’s drugged you with some sort of addictive attraction towards him that only pushes you to want for more.

A quick dial to your ex fuck buddy Soobin should get him off your mind right? He’s got that same yearning face in him although less intense than Kai and you can bet your whole LV collection on him that he’ll show up to your door in less than 5 minutes if you really needed him to.

“Hello?”

“Hey Binnie, can you come over? I got in to an argument with father.” You mewl a little to make yourself seem as pitiable as you can.

“So, let me get this right. You’re asking to fuck?”

“Bingo! You got it Binnie so can you like please come over in five?”

The long and weighted sigh on the other end of the line does not sound like good news.

“Can’t, sorry princess I’m out of the country right now. Goodbye.”

Soobin ends the phone call without another word which only makes you dead pan at the white contact screen again.

“Ugh fuck you Choi Soobin! Couldn’t he be a little bit more considerate?” You turn to lay on your back and open up WinkChat, not even needing to scroll down to find his username at the top of the chats.

you: send me a vid of u masturbating now.

kkh.txt: now??? im at a friend’s apartment.

you: please??

Quickly snapping a photo of your exposed boob barely covered by the padding of your finger is all the anonymous user needs to take his sweet time in recording what you wanted.

“Hey..Taehyun I’m gonna use the shower okay?”

Taehyun scribbles away a couple of notes while watching a league of legends game play at the same time, only having the brain power to send Kai a quick thumbs up before he disappears behind the doors of his apartment bathroom.

Kai’s fucking hard. Every single photo of you tortures him internally when all he can think about is the feeling of your tongue wrapped so prettily around him. He zooms in to the photo eagerly to peek at the swell of your tit, instinctively looking around to see if anyone was around despite being isolated in a bathroom out of shame for being so dirty.

A nosebleed is going to come flowing down his nose any second now was he turns on the shower, letting the pitter-patter of water hopefully drown out the sounds of his moans as he sets up his camera directly facing his naked self sat on the toilet lid but cut off from revealing his face.

The camera starts recording and he’s already lost on what to do, spotting what he thinks is Taehyun’s body lotion that he uses like his life depends on it for his eczema; Kai prays it isn’t expensive as he loads a sample of it on to his palm before lazily stroking down his aching cock.

He wasn’t supposed to bring this with him today, but he was planning on asking you to go on video call later when Taehyun went for his night shift leaving him alone, a fleshlight being pulled straight out of his bag he was intending to use that he bought on a whim.

He starts off guiding the sex toy down his lubed dick, groaning in pleasure at how tight the mound of silicone flesh is around him; he imagines it’s your walls wrapped around him, thought he hopes it would be warmer in side of you than the chill of the bathroom.

“Shit.” Kai picks up the pace and squeezes the fleshlight harder around the tip, his hands moving in a vertical movement as he slides the silicone down the ridges of his cock, squelching Taehyun’s lotion in an explicitly sexual sound which formed a ring of white around the base.

Doesn’t even think to slow down to catch his breath, he completely is just aiming towards chasing the same high you gave him, wrist starting to become lazy as he whimpers whenever the stimulation around his leaking tip gets too much!! Fundamentally he’s fucking up in to the fleshlight now, hips jerking upward whenever the toy would squeeze too hard around his vein with a plethora of whimpers flooding out of his mouth with no restriction. The flitter of the shower starts to steam up around him which only fogs up Kai’s head even more, still thinking about how deliciously your pussy would nestle around him, how you’d leave a pool of slick below him from just how wet you are!! <3

Kai’s knuckles are starting to show the white of his bone from how hard he’s squeezing the moment he feels the same anticipation of release, unable to keep his moans quiet as he spurts ropes of white all over his lap, his chest heaves rapidly while he snaps out of his trance, making sure to leave a taunting message at the end of the video,

“I’d fuck you so good if you let me.” Sent! Straight to your shared chat together,

Sure enough you send him floods of praise, particularly around the flex of his abs around his tattoo when he came.

Just when Kai’s about to properly head in to his unusually ‘longer’ shower a notification rings on his phone.

Y/N^u^: Can you come to my house for tutoring on Friday? Shellsby Manor, XXX-XXX, arrive before 6 k?

Sounds like Professor Jenkins idea considering you two haven’t done any proper tutoring over the last two weeks, but Kai’s more than happy to accept.

”I’m telling you that new VS pushup bra is all the craze right now!! I heard it made Carly’s B cup look like double D’s like what the fuck!?” Sullyoon’s browsing on her phone on her go-to shopping website again. Momo on the other hand has Jake Sim’s head resting between her thighs as she plays with his nest of hair, yikes..

“Stop being a bore I can’t believe I’m actually seeing you study for once.”

“Shut up Jake I need it if I want my card back ugh!!” All the words and key terminology for the up coming assessment is just mumble and letters, at this rate you’re never going to pass without Kai’s help!!!

“Just sleep with him, that’s what all girls do.” Jake replies nonchalantly but the statement rubs you the wrong way- even if you did consider it...is he calling all girls whores?!!

Before you can even do it Momo slaps him away from her,

“Ugh Jake you’re so vile get away!” Sullyoon shrieks and giggles, playfully kicking at the baseball captain which ends up landing at his nuts.

“All of you shut up for a moment I need to focus!” You complain before putting all of your weight on to the arm behind you on the field of grass, you’ve only just finished consolidating chemical reactions but you doubt you’ll remember or properly understand it like this.

“What? Is she going to see that small-dick geek again?” Fuckass Jake didn’t get his balls kicked hard enough because he still has the energy to retort.

“I’m not joking he’s like twice the size of yours.” You snicker before pinching your fingers together to mock an irritated Jake already feeling your work ethic coming to a halt.

“Well maybe if you’d actually let me bang you then you’d know. Because by the looks of it you let every other guy in between those legs.” Jake spits.

Way to ruin your mood Sim Jaeyun.

You pack up your laptop and belongings and spin on your heel to strut all the way down towards the canteen where you know you’d find Taehyun, and therefore him too.

Right in the corner behind the pillar where they can’t be seen spot the same head of blonde hair and an agitating brunette who’s immediately sending warning signals to Kai the moment you head towards their way.

“Hi Tyunnie! Miss me?” You blow Taehyun a kiss before rustling his oddly styled hair gently- eco gel..and jesus christ a whole lot of it.

“Freak off, we don’t want you here.” Taehyun speaks as monotonously as ever, refusing to show any sort of amusement as he swats your hand away from cooing him any further.

That’s when you realise you haven’t greeted Kai yet, turning your head around to see..eyes?

The blonde is rocking a completely different hair cut now, bangs messily trimmed to give him style but also a cleaner look and with more volume than he ever has- it suits him really well you must admit, like the hotties you’d see in the skate parks, except his innocently charming eyes really are the cherry on top.

“Wow Kai new haircut?! Awhh stop you look so adorable!!! You finally got rid of those overgrown bangs.” He attempts to hold back a bashful grin in front of a discerned Taehyun, waving it off as something he’s wanted to try forever when really he knows it’s because of you.

“Well Tyunnie-boo let me borrow Kai for the rest of today okay? Thanks a million!!”

You drag Kai and his belongings with you and straight in to the parking lot where your porsche you haven’t used in ages was parked.

“No lectures later right? I know it’s a bit earlier than scheduled but I might as well take you home with me now right?”

The still timid male looks away from you when he speaks in case his mind wanders off to a bunch of other naughty thoughts again.

“That’s fine..just means we get more tutoring time in.”

Yeah, tutoring time.

Accelerating down the road and in to the hills of where the richest sector of people in your city resided in was a complete shock for Kai, watching people live in these castles they’d call ‘home’ as you speed down in to your own pearly-gated manor.

Kai regrets wearing something so baggy now at a place like this, but there’s not much in his closet if he’s still keen on covering that tattoo he stupidly got with his cousin Yeonjun on his 18th birthday.

“My father may look intimidating but trust me it’s just a habit he’s picked up on from trying to be professional everywhere he goes.” Even the keys to your house is made of some sort of alloy of gold, inside revealing a couple of servants who welcome the two of you towards your father’s office.

Knocking gently you pry, “Father, I’ve got my little tutor friend you wanted to see so bad.”

There’s no response that you can hear from the room nor any sign to come in. A working servant comes over to inform you that he’s at a business meeting that won’t end until late. Great, so he’s not even here.

“I-It’s okay, let’s just get started first!” Kai suggests, which you’re not going to object to because you were planning on it anyways, leading him to your bedroom upstairs down hallways of art and antiques.

This is it, the bedroom you’re always sending photos to him, well, kkh.txt in. The same mirror where it all started lays in the same spot as before as he follows your foot steps towards your couch and social table.

“Real talk Kai, I’m actually going to listen this time because it’s my last shot over the next few weeks to get this down in time if I wanna pass and get my credit card back okay?”

“Should I recap what you’ve done in your own time to see if it’s consolidated yet?” And fuck his voice sounds so hot when he’s concentrated..right, focus!!

By the time both of you are confident you’ve covered most of the heavy content you’re exhausted and so is Kai. Hours of back and forth questions for concepts you couldn’t understand finally stuck in your brain a bit better to the point you could answer most of the simple and intermediate questions. Looking at the time it’s already 7 meaning that you’ve been tutored for 5 hours straight with Kai non-stop, and you feel proud of the hard work too! And a bit smarter, still not his level though.

“I’m going to take a quick bathroom break, when I’m back we’ll move on to more complicated topics and we’ll wrap it up for today!” A tired Kai limps towards your bathroom but in a more comfortable mood than earlier- even his stuttering has calmed down!

And if you were being true to yourself, Kai is exactly your type, the standard really. He’s gentle with you even when you’re frustrated, always offering to make time for you and help, and plus he’s got that begging look and monster cock combination which messes with your head so good!!

Good enough to compel you to swipe on to WinkChat to message your favourite user kkh.txt, thinking of what to type.

‘Sorry, don’t wanna use this app anymore?’

‘Think it’s best we stop this?’

None of it flows off your tongue smoothly but you settle with a short and simple ‘sorry.’ message to him, preparing to delete the app when you hear a ping!- coming from Kai’s phone.

And of course you’re curious! Who else could be messaging the nerd except Taehyun?-

Your eyes bat hardly at the notification,

‘y/n.553 sent a message! Click to chat with her now! ❤️🔥’

Your heart sinks down to your stomach, Kai..the nerd you gave a blow job to in the middle of the library is kkh.txt ?!!!

“Hope I didn’t take too long-“

Seems like it’s a universal thing for everyone’s heart to drop now because Kai’s throat runs dry as he watches the bewildered expression on your face with his phone in your hand. It couldn’t be-

“Kai. You’re…kkh.txt?!!!” No point in lying now is there?

“Uhm wait.. I-I can explain I didn’t mean to hide it from-“

“The tattoo. Show me it.” You walk towards the stiffened Kai who can’t move an inch from where he’s at by the door right now without the interception of you pushing him on to mattress of your bed.

“Go on, that dragon tattoo you have, take off the hoodie and let me see.” He’s never heard your voice drip with so much authority; hell he can’t even understand if you’re angry at him or not for hiding it from you!! The hoodie is discarded of somewhere in the corner of your room, and there it is- the damn dragon tattoo you’ve been craving for ever since you saw it.

Now that you can see his full frame you can understand that everything about Kai is big; he’s towering in height, his shoulders are so broad it’s impossible to not notice now that you’ve seen it even with his hoodie on, the defined muscles that runs down his abdomen and the absolute beast he doesn’t know how to use, but you’re craving it real bad.

“What are you waiting for? Fuck me like you mean it.” Nimble hands hurry to unclasp your bra and remove your tank top, revealing your chest in front of a nervous Kai who now can’t find the strength in him to answer you without moaning.

“W-what?”

“That video you sent. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Memories rack through Kai’s head which makes him mentally face palm at the recollection of his bold statement when he in fact does not know how to fuck nor make you feel good apart from a couple of porn videos he’s seen. He swallows the lump in his throat before looking up to you again with pleading eyes,

“Can I try eat you out?”

Remember when you said a nerd like Kai could probably eat pussy like a champ two weeks ago? Bullseye because the man is fixated between your thighs, lapping at everything you have to offer.

Swear he had no experience at all with cunnilingus yet he’s having no problems in sucking and flicking at your swollen clit with the flat of his tongue, moaning in to your folds repeatedly, every now and then having to put in some sort of comment about how good you taste with tears in his eyes; such a pussy drunk loser it’s adorable.

At some points you’re afraid he’s going to die of suffocation from how hard he’s pressing down on your thighs to keep you in place as you sit directly on top of his face, the weight of you completely over his saliva covered mouth but even when you meekly ask if he can breathe just fine all he does is press his tongue in to your further; swirling his tongue around your entrance and even finding the confidence to enter it.

“Mmh!! Kai fuck!! You can-hah-touch me up here too.”

A wandering hand reaches to clasp on to Kai’s to direct him to your chest, begging him to stimulate your perked and neglected nipples.

“Fuck fuck fuck! Such a good boy, making me cum so good!”

Juices are spilling from your cunt all over a dazed Kai’s face, still shocked from the effect of tasting you on his tongue for the first time, and if he wasn’t eating you out like a starved man this time you shouldn’t even start to imagine how insanely he’d try to eat you out after he’s become addicted to your taste.

A symphony of your heavy breathing and the pulsing of your folds as you catch your breath from being given the best head you’ve ever received from a complete amateur is laughable, looking up to Kai with exhausted but fluttering eyes.

“I haven’t made you cum yet Kai, hah, come on, rest against the pillows over there.”

Stunned and beyond words all he can do is follow your every command like a lost puppy, his hard-on longing for your touch as it twitches hungrily in his briefs.

“N-no condom?”

“Sit back and relax for me okay pretty? No more questions, I’ll do all the work.” Even if you’ve been eaten out by Kai you doubt you can adjust to the stretch of his cock in one go, slightly hesitating and knowing you were going to fuck yourself dumb the moment you started struggling to even fit in just the tip!!

“You’re so big Kai, scared it might rip me.” Pain starts to overwhelm you as you sink down inch by inch on to his cock, whimpers falling out of your mouth in a mantra as you hold on to his shoulders for stability. Kai’s completely silent with his mouth wide open; brows knitted together as he watches the way his cock disappears between your glistening folds, you’re going to fucking destroy him and he knows it, god.

Finally taking in the last couple of inches you rest for a bit, sighing as the initial pain converts in to pleasure from how full you felt, his tip poking right in to your cervix.

“Look Kai, this is how full you make me feel.” His hand reaches to brush against the imprint of the curve of his dick in your stomach, inflicting you to moan when he presses his finger against it,

“Ngh, don’t do that baby, I might cum too quick if you do.” The pet name only makes him twitch inside of you which erupts another moan from the sudden jerk, finally finding the energy in you to lift yourself off of him only to slam yourself right back down.

The sensation of your walls clenching around his as you lifted your hips felt like bliss- better than anything he’s seen in those x-rated movies, watching as you bounced on top of him in swift motions, the base of his cock disappearing and reappearing with every cycle of thrusts as you rode him.

A string of slick connected between your cunt and his pelvis made him moan at how lewd it was, eyes rolling back as he aids your movement with his hands- biceps flexing from hard he’s gripping on to your waist.

“Am I agh!- Better than your fleshlight hm?”

Ten times, no. A thousand times better than whatever he has rotting in his drawers right now, the warmth of your pussy sucking him in is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen accompanied by the way your tongue starts to loll out automatically whenever his tip slams way too hard past your cervix, completely filled to the brim yet your greedy cunt still yearns for more.

Kai’s expressions are just as you’d imagine, strands of hair messily stuck to his forehead from sweat, his mouth cutely open and unable to form any other sound except mewls and whimpers and the same usual fat tears that roll down to his reddened cheeks whenever the pleasure feels too good! <3 His eyes struggle to keep open as he furrows his brows whenever he feels the heat of your walls clench around him, you really don’t know how badly he wants to just stay buried inside of you forever! ><

Your tits bounce in sync with your pace right above his eyes, watching as they’d swing back up before you slammed down on his aching cock. Kai bites his lip as he slides a hand down to your waist, so lost in the illusion of your pussy he can’t even verbalise how good he feels, instead only being able to claw at the swell of your ass as you continue to fuck yourself dumb on his cock.

Usually you’d never think of yourself as someone who loses dominance with any of your sex partners but the way Kai’s dick turns your brain in to mush needs to be studied because you’re drooling as you continue to ride him sloppier than before.

“Kaii! Shit I feel so full I’m gonna come!”

The continuous slamming of his cockhead against the bundle of nerves the curve of his cock keeps pressing against sends shockwaves through your core, unable to keep your posture up right as you limp on to Kai’s shoulder, biting on the penetrable skin to keep your moans in while you let him buck his hips in to you at a new angle where you can feel everything deeper, more stimulating and more raw.

“Ohh fuck, w-where do I cum? shit-“ Kai continues to ram in to the same sensitive bundle of nerves relentlessly to chase his own orgasm, frantically desperate to get that burning sensation of needing to release again.

“I- I’m on the pill Kai just cum inside please!! Wanna feel full!” Within seconds Kai’s unleashing his seed right in to your cunt, still thrusting to keep it from leaking out despite overstimulating himself in the process- you follow not too long after, unwinding and gushing over him, hot breath fanning on to his neck as you attempted to regain your energy after coming down your high.

“Did I make you feel good?” Kai asks with lustful eyes. His skin is completely flushed pink and sweating, struggling to focus his eyes on anything after the initial haze of such a strong orgasm.

Oh there’s no doubt about that.

Professor Jenkins should be pleased to see that you’re going to ace your summer qualifying exam, because you’ll be visiting this nerd all summer <3

A/N: I had to concise it down A LOT more because I genuinely think would’ve dragged on forever if I let it, but hopefully everything lives up to the hype surrounding it esp with the teaser!!

taglist: @whoisgami , @bingsoob , @1eatlasagna , @pengningie , @angelgraphica , @sanscupid , @cutehoons02 , @cheekycountesschoi , @soupersaldz , @bamtor1sss , @strawberryshoujosundae , @gyutaepie , @bambiihee

[mp3bugs]

Between the Lines

pairing: Viktor x fem!reader

summary: After enrolling at the Academy, you had managed to stumble your way into Viktor's life, and he isn't very keen on letting you go.

wc: 7.5k

a/n: This is my first viktor fic ever... please be nice </3 anw I hope you guys like it. I worked on it for like a week before I deemed it to be good enough for posting.

You were always an achiever. Ever since your parents had taught you how to read you were unstoppable, continuously striving to do more you found interest in a lot of things that the other kids your age never really thought about. It was inevitable that you would eventually become the top student in all of your classes, recognized by your peers and teachers to be one of the most intelligent amongst your age group. It was isolating, the kids around you continued to play while you read books, trying to figure out the meaning behind everything. 

You always attempted to excel at whatever was thrown at you and all your hard work only became more worthwhile the older you got. Getting accepted into the prestigious Academy of Piltover was one of your biggest achievements and every moment you spent within those walls felt sacred and special. Everything around you was a result of your hard work. It wasn’t long before you were introduced to the dean of the Academy, professor Heimerdinger, who was quick to offer you various opportunities that would skyrocket your success. Hesitant, you denied the offers, choosing to focus on your studies instead. 

It took a few months of persisting from the aged yordle, eventually you warmed up and he jumped the gun, immediately offering you an internship with his current assistant, who just so happened to be a pretty renowned researcher and engineer within the Academy. You couldn’t help but take on the offer after reading the researcher’s scope within the field of science he practiced, it was interesting and promising. 

It wasn’t long before you were introduced to the researcher himself. Viktor was his name. He said it with such assurance too, curling around the syllables with a hum and an accent you couldn’t name.

“Viktor.” He held out a hand, the other one was curled around the head of his cane, leaning most of his weight on it. You placed your hand in the empty space he offered. His fingers, thin and calloused, wrapped around yours, engulfing it fully and giving it a firm shake. 

He was lanky and quite frail looking but he held himself high with the confidence of knowing he was one of the best the Academy had to offer. 

“Your reputation precedes you.” He continued, looking down at you with his chin held up high. “Professor Heimerdinger speaks of you often.”

“I hope it’s only good things.” You replied, heart thrumming in your chest. You felt scrutinized under the older man’s gaze, stripping you apart until you stood bare in front of him. It was a challenge. No one had ever thought anything but good things about you. This was different and you were more than eager to prove to him why everyone thinks the way they do about you. 

“Oh, yes. Only good things.”

—------------------------------

It had been a couple of months since then. You had eased into the work environment at the laboratory. It was undoubtedly stressful but you had managed to prove yourself, intelligence and all, time and time again. Working closely with Jayce, Viktor’s research partner, and Viktor himself as his assistant had really set your sights onto the realities of working in science. It wasn’t glamorous, no. In fact it was the complete opposite. There were moments where the three of you had failed to accomplish the simplest of mathematical problems, Viktor had even forgotten his times tables at one point, and Jayce, well, he once somehow forgot the answer to (5+5). Throughout everything, you had developed a close relationship with the two researchers. You felt it was safe to assume that you and Viktor were friends, at the very least. You were really much closer to Jayce, taking into consideration the fact that the larger man was a lot more approachable than the former. The two of you often talked and met up outside of work, finding new things to bond over such as your favorite music, cooking recipes, and somewhat similar personalities. 

Though ever since Jayce had taken up an interest in counselor Medarda he had been spending less time in the lab and more time showing his affections elsewhere, leaving you and Viktor to spend hours alone at times without end. Which was fine, maybe a little awkward but that could be easily pushed aside. You had grown used to the fact that Viktor always had his walls up. Guarded and unwilling to let anybody closer than they should be.

Spending more time with Viktor, one on one, had without a doubt helped a lot in cultivating a better work relationship between the two of you, and sure, maybe you found the older man to be extremely attractive to the point where it was becoming difficult to focus on work but that was besides the point. It was nice spending time with Viktor, despite it mostly being through work, however Jayce’s lack of presence at the lab had fostered some annoyance from the lanky brunette, always muttering under his breath about ‘priorities’ and ‘the future’. You always pretended like you didn’t hear it.

As time went on, work only became more difficult. The rose tinted glasses were harshly torn off your face and you were left fumbling around in the dark, but you had Viktor and Jayce by your side, who were more than willing to aid you in this path. Despite your urge to prove yourself there were moments where you truly needed guidance. The harder the days were, the stronger the urge was to overstay at the laboratory, trying to work out an equation or whatever it may be. Viktor was more irritable in these difficult times, grumbling in a language you didn’t fully understand and becoming extremely pissy when he couldn’t find his pen or a screwdriver.

“M.s Y/L/N.” Viktor called out from where he was sitting. His tone was all too familiar, it was not shy of kindness but you could already sense his growing irritation. He had his back turned to you, numerous papers and blueprints scattered over the desk he slouched over. 

“Yes, sir?” You replied from the other side of the room, your attention on the equation presented to you on the chalkboard. You had been mulling over it for a few minutes now, maybe hours, but you had lost care in keeping time when you’re in the lab. You looked over but he said nothing, not even bothering to turn away from his desk. He beckoned your presence with two fingers. 

Your shoes clicked and clacked against the tile floor as you approached him.

“I’m finding it quite difficult to work efficiently when I cannot find my tools.” Viktor explained quietly, gesturing to his work desk with open hands. You glanced over, not a tool in sight. Nervous, you looked around the room, the days had been blending in together and hours felt like mere minutes. You could not recall where Viktor’s toolbox was. A weird churning feeling began to grow in your gut.

“I’ll bring them right to you, sir.” You mumbled quickly before scurrying off to the other side of the room. You began to peer into any space you could possible. The box was old, janky, and a lot of other unpleasant things. Viktor could replace it if he really wanted to. Something nice that doesn’t squeak awkwardly every time you open it, but was the kind of person who liked to keep his hold on things that are his. 

A little desperate, you began to crawl around the laboratory. Maybe you left it underneath a desk somewhere. The lab was by no means organized. It was hard to keep clean when you had three active brains attempting to break past science and discover something the world had not seen just yet. A stupid excuse but it worked just fine, except for times like these. 

After looking around like a cat chasing a mouse, you had finally found it. The stupid old toolbox that should have probably been tossed into an incinerator by now. It had managed to hide itself underneath a pile of papers, behind a few more boxes of old contraptions and failed projects. Now why would it be there? You pulled it out from its hiding spot with a small yet proud ‘Aha!’, a grin growing on your face. 

“Aha, indeed.” You looked up at the voice. Viktor was standing over you with a small smirk, cane in one hand and the other leaning on the desk you were looking under. You were so engrossed in your task that you didn’t even hear Viktor approaching you. Your position was quite unbecoming, on your knees with some rusty toolbox in your hands, not a very ‘top student’ position.

You flustered under the man’s gaze. You’d never thought that you’d be on your knees in front of the man. Well, you had thought about it but realistically it would never happen. Until now.

“I found your toolbox!” You exclaimed happily, raising it up to the man with flushed cheeks. There weren’t many times where you had Viktor’s full attention. He was a busy man, always on the edge of the breakthrough that continued to distance itself the closer he got. He had no time to dabble into other things when his success was right in front of him, but in the times where you had his attention it was almost daunting.

He plucked the toolbox from your hands with ease, placing it on the desk beside him. Before you could push yourself up from the ground, Viktor held out a hand, pausing your movements. 

“Allow me, please.” He reached down and offered his hand to you while the other remained on his cane, as always. Your eyes flickered from his face to his outstretched hand. His eyes met yours for a split second and you willed yourself to look away. He looked like a prince, a knight in shining armor who was prepared to whisk you away and ride off into the sunset – The blue glow from the hex core only added to this daydream you had. 

Your cheeks flushed into a deeper colour and thankfully you could blame your little side quest for this. You placed your hand in his and the older researcher helped you up from the ground. Once you rose to your feet you couldn’t help but look into his eyes once more, and there he was again with those stupid amber eyes that made you feel like he was looking straight into your soul. 

“Thank you, sir.” You cleared your throat awkwardly and pulled your hand away, tucking it behind your back. You turned back to the desk and pretended to busy yourself by arranging the papers and stacking them into neat piles. 

“It’s really no problem.” Viktor replied, you could hear the smile in his voice, how annoying. “And I would like to believe we are past all this, eh… ‘sir’ nonsense. Please, call me Viktor from now on.”

He truly is annoying. 

It was another long day at the lab. Jayce and Viktor had recently received a letter of approval from the council allowing them to engineer one of their proposed designed models for a new invention involving hextech and they did not want to waste any time. Your shoulders and many other parts of you were aching for rest but you ignored your muscles’ cries for help as you fetched probably your 5th tray of tea for the day. 

“Ah yes, thank you Y/N.” Viktor mumbled absentmindedly as you placed the tray on the far end of the desk, he gave you an appreciative wave but his focus was primarily on the contraption in his hands, it seemed to be a smaller model of the hex core with a case around it. Jayce looked away from the chalkboard and mumbled a quick thank you as well. 

“Y/N, would you be so kind and–” Jayce was quickly interrupted by an annoyed cough. 

“Eh, last I recall, Ms. Y/L/N is my assistant, is that correct?” Viktor turned around in his chair, eyes locking straight into yours. He had a pointed look, a singular eyebrow raised and a small quirk on his lips, almost as if he was taunting you to try and deny his claims. You could only nod your head, unsure if you could even offer a rebuttal to any of this. “That’s right.” He hummed and turned back to his work, the sound of the wheels of his chair filled the growing silence in the room. 

You turned to look at Jayce who, bless his soul, wore his heart out on his sleeve and had a very confused look on his face. You could only shrug with an awkward smile. 

You attempted to ignore the interaction, sipping your own cup of tea in the meantime. Viktor was probably itching with pettiness and could barely hold it in any longer. Maybe it was reasonable. Jauce had found love, one of the biggest distractions to the progression of science as Viktor would say. Those words would always find him late at night, when his eyes were heavy with sleep but Jayce would not entirely be at fault, maybe Viktor just needed to loosen up a little. 

“If you wish for my assistant to do anything for you, then you must ask for my permission, yes?” Viktor added, the hextech model long forgotten as he scratched the nib of his pen against some scratch paper. 

Jayce could only roll his eyes, “Vik, may I ask Y/N to do something for me?” He was now fully turned away from the chalkboard, equation be damned. 

The lanky man swiveled on his chair once more, his index finger and his thumb curled around his chin, feigning deep thought, Viktor looked up at the ceiling and let out a sweet hum of random notes, “No.” The older man quipped monotonously and swiftly turned back to his desk. “I would like for Ms. Y/L/N to stay put. I may need her assistance and I would hate for her to be distracted with other unnecessary things.” 

Jayce sighed and turned back to the chalkboard. He had bigger problems to solve. 

That was weird.

It wasn’t unusual for the two to have a few petty fights which were quite literally childish most of the time but this felt different. An odd feeling began to stir in your gut as you glanced between the two researchers. Ignoring the gnawing feeling at your gut, you decided not to pry. 

Once the conversation had properly died and down and had been forgotten, Viktor took a small glance at you from over his shoulder. Your eyes met and he beckoned you over with a small gesture, his index finger pressed against his lips. How childish. You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face at his antics. As quietly as you could, you made your way to his desk, occupying the empty seat next to him. 

“What do you think of this equation, hm?” Viktor asked quietly, practically whispering the words into your ear. His warm breath brushed against your cheek sending shivers straight down your spine. You straightened up in the chair and cleared your throat. You looked down at the paper but it was hard to look over the math when Viktor’s arm was pressed right into yours. Despite the four layers of clothing that separate your skin from his, you could feel your cheeks burning up from the contact alone. 

Without even thinking about it, you shifted your gaze from the paper to Viktor. Thankfully, his eyes were trained on the paper, lost in his own world. You took advantage of that fact and really soaked in all the little details because when would you have another chance to be this close to the brunette?

His cheeks were angular, eyes sharp and he lacked a lot of body fat but he was never ugly, no. Despite all of the things that your peers have said about him, you always thought he was attractive. The small crease in between his eyebrows, the moles he had scattered around his skin. You took the risk and took the smallest glance towards his lips. He always had a habit, unconscious maybe, where the corners of his lips would quirk up when he was deep in thought. 

“Did it stump your brain as well?” Viktor mused, putting a halt to the Viktor Express going around in your brain. He leaned even closer and nudged your arm with his elbow, a small exhale of a chuckle leaving through his nose. 

“I’m sure it’s correct.” You whispered back breathlessly, cheeks flushed a dark hue of red, you could only hope that Viktor didn’t notice it. 

“I want your input.” He insisted, urging you even, with another nudge. Your resolve was slowly breaking, this proximity was in no way good for your heart, which was already threatening to beat out of your rib cage and present itself on the desk in front of you. As you gnawed anxiously on your lower lip, you looked at the equation again. It was solved… but something felt off. You pointed at a part of the equation and glanced at Viktor. 

“You could change the variable here.”

Viktor hummed, content with your answer. He snatched back the paper and began to write up a new equation. You dropped your shoulders and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. The distance helped calm your thumping heart. There were moments where you felt like Viktor knew what he was doing. Aware of his effect  on you and deciding to play around with it – but as he solved that stupid equation it felt nothing more than a friendly interaction.

—------------------------------

It had been a month since Viktor had you ‘secretly’ help him on an equation. The entire scenario had plagued your every waking moment, the vision of Viktor so close to you that it was burned into your eyelids. The smell of his cologne was so subtle, you didn’t even know that he wore cologne before that moment, but now, it was all you could think about. You attempted to keep your distance after that day, not wanting your little crush you had to foster into something more. You had to remain professional, this was a work setting, but Viktor was persistent, almost as if he had begun to enjoy your company these past few weeks — Besides the fact that you were his assistant. 

Viktor started requesting your presence more consistently at the lab. At first you understood his request. Things were only getting busier and the man would surely need some help during these times but it looked a little suspicious when he would ask you to complete the most mundane of tasks that, despite his schedule, he could accomplish himself. 

“Could you arrange my pens?”

“I need your help erasing that chalkboard.”

“I need you to sign these papers. Yes, just forge them, no one will know.”

It was confusing. You didn’t know what to think of it, really. You were just trying to survive every interaction at the lab and hoping you didn’t die from heart failure. Despite everything, you did not want to assume that he reciprocated even an inkling of your feelings – it was just highly unlikely. No hypothesis needed. No tests or observations. It was never going to happen, and you knew that. So you continued to push that thought to the back of your mind and buried yourself in work. 

You had stupidly hoped that after all this time, your feelings would dwindle. It was merely a crush at first sight. Viktor was undeniably a good looking man. All angles and sharp edges but it only added to his charm. Amber eyes paired with his boyish smile, the moles that decorated his skin like stars on a clear night sky and that stupid accent that always got your heart racing. Evidently, those feelings had not even diminished in the slightest. 

You needed a break from him. A break from the laboratory. A break from the hours that you would spend alone with that man. Some time away to allow yourself to really bury these feelings deep inside you and never to be found again. So you called in sick.

—------------------------------

You woke up the morning of your so-called ‘sick day’ feeling peaceful for the first time in a long time. You had planned to stay in your dorm room, read a few books, work on a few assignments, and figure out a way to find Viktor as unattractive as possible. That would be the hardest task of the day.

Maybe it could be the way that he closes himself off when he’s working, or the way that he blatantly ignores you when he’s too focused. No person would want that right? It was reasonable, your scapegoat into finally getting out of this scrappy mess of feelings that made you feel like a child, yet it only fueled your attraction even further. Your brain travelled to the way Viktor would play with the ends of his hair when he was deep in thought, twirling the messy strands of hair with his index finger. It all went downhill from there. Your mind raced with the thoughts of his long hands, calloused fingers, the way his Adam’s apple would bob when he fought irritation. Sometimes, when you were lucky enough and stuck around long enough at the lab, you would get to see a sliver of Viktor’s chest, his frustrations leading him to loosening his usually tightly knotted tie and unbuttoning the top of his blouse. Those days felt more worth it.

You were pulled away from your thoughts by a series of knocks on your door. You weren’t expecting company but you assumed it was one of your classmates passing by to borrow some notes. You got up and moved to answer the door. 

“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N.”

Shit.

“Viktor! What’re you doing here? Did you receive my letter? I called in sick today.” The words rushed out of you before you could even think. You faked a cough to try and support your case further, hoping that the taller man was oblivious enough to believe it. 

“Yes, eh… I did receive your letter. I simply wanted to check up on you.” Viktor said in a matter-of-factly tone, waving his hand around. The brunette gave you a once-over and the horror of realization settled itself deep into your skin. It was pretty obvious that you weren’t planning on leaving your dorm room today, so you hadn’t bothered to change out of your sleeping clothes – which in hindsight was quite revealing in a lot of areas. This was more than embarrassing, more than humiliation. This was hell.

Viktor placed a hand on the door, leaning on the hard wood slightly, “May I come in?” His cunning eyes bore into yours, practically towering over your height. You spluttered over your words, your brain had long melted into a puddle as you looked up at the older man. It’s that damn accent. In an attempt to salvage the situation you simply nodded your head, not trusting your mouth to listen to your brain. You stepped to the side, giving the man some space to enter. 

Thump. Tap. Thump. Tap. Thump. Tap. 

He looked around the room once before turning back to you. 

“How are you feeling? Hm?” Viktor voiced out with a worried look. Both hands were laid to rest on his cane, favoring his weight on his good leg. 

You swallowed in an attempt to release the growing knot in your throat, “I’ve got the flu.” The words came out quieter than you expected it to. You weren’t looking at Viktor, in fact you were looking past him and favoring the posters behind his figure. Despite this, you could feel his gaze burning into your skin, maybe he didn’t favor the fact that you were revealing more skin than he had ever seen from you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling a little self conscious. 

“I have to apologize.” Viktor took a step towards you and it took everything in you to not take a step back. “It seems that I have, eh, overworked you… But I couldn’t help myself, you make a perfect assistant.” He continued on. Viktor tucked a hand into his pocket and tilted his head to the side. Was he trying to seduce you? Your heart thumped harder in your chest, sweat began to pool in your palms and around your temples. Maybe you really did have the flu. 

You didn’t skip over the small compliment Viktor had tossed to you. In fact, the words bounced around your head like an echo in a large cave. You had spent so many months trying to prove yourself as an intelligent colleague, that it wasn’t a mistake that Heimerdinger so kindly offered you up to Viktor. It seems to have paid off.

“It’s alright. I think it’s the weather.” Your voice wavered and you let out another cough in an attempt to cover it up. A big mistake. The cough had seemingly activated something inside Viktor. He walked over to you, worry written all over his face. Before you could react, he had reached out and placed the back of his hand against your forehead. The touch was gentle, barely even there – as if you could feel the molecules between the two of you creating that barrier of separation.

“You are quite warm.” Viktor commented quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. Just as if his hand had a mind of its own for that moment, Viktor abruptly pulled away, clearing his throat awkwardly and tucking his hand straight into his pocket. “My apologies, that was quite forward of me.” 

“It’s alright.” You repeated dumbly. Your brain was mush. It seemed no longer viable to consider yourself one of the top students at the Academy when your brain seemed to run away whenever in the presence of an attractive engineer. Any other normal girl would be ecstatic in this situation. Any other normal girl who had a crush on Viktor would rejoice, their minds going a mile a minute on how to take advantage of the fact that he was in their dorm room, a proper place of privacy – unfortunately you were not like other girls. 

“Thank you for checking up on me.” The words came out so quiet. You couldn’t believe how shy you were at that moment. You were so confident. Going in head strong no matter what situation you were thrown in. Viktor may be right, love is the biggest hindrance for the progression of science. With how close Viktor was standing next to you, you had no choice but to crane your neck to look up at him. You don’t recall the researcher being this tall before. 

“It is, eh… no problem. Don’t mention it.” Viktor mumbled quickly. He gave you a curt nod and began to rush out your room. He was out of your dorm before you could realize it, the moment your door clicked shut you were pulled out of your trance. 

What just happened?

—------------------------------

You had tried to ignore whatever thoughts you had about Viktor from that day forward. You had pushed the memories of the day he visited your dorm into the pits of your mind. It was all a distraction. If you weren’t so persistent your grades would have started slipping by now – thankfully they haven’t. Viktor was simply expressing his care for a colleague. Surely he had done the same and then some for his beloved research partner, right?

Though it only got more difficult to ignore these thoughts when he suddenly started to push you away. 

Your days at the lab were cut short with a curt, “You may go home now, Ms. Y/L/N.” He would barely even spare you a glance, his attention solely on whatever he pleased on doing, which apparently was anything but looking at you. It hurt. The same way an injection would feel. It was quick and subtle, but you could feel the imprint somewhere on your body. 

You had lost your voice. Your arguments and small little conversations to attempt to stay for even a few minutes longer would die down before the syllables had even formed. Shadowed in defeat, you would quietly leave the lab. 

Had Viktor changed his mind about you? Did he find a better student for the job? Or did he realize that having an assistant hinders his progress more than it should aid? You could do nothing. The days were cut shorter and shorter until there was nothing left. Until Viktor himself had requested that you, ��Focus on your studies, your presence is no longer needed at the lab.” 

His words felt like a knife into your chest, or worse, it felt like he had physically reached into your ribcage, wrapped his lithe fingers around your heart and yanked it right out of you. You didn’t know what to think, so you followed his orders. Just like you always did.

Your days became less exciting. You had adapted back to your usual routine of attending your lectures and heading to the library to drown yourself in your studies. Viktor’s words would replay in your mind like a broken record. He sounded so cold, so closed off. You thought that you had at least breached through his walls and found your own place by the outskirts of his own mind but he had abruptly pushed you away and placed brick after brick to keep you out. You couldn’t help but wonder if he really only saw you as an assistant. 

It had been a month before you were reminded of anything hextech related. You had managed to distract yourself enough that you barely even thought about the lab, which was great, until you saw Jayce at the library.

Without a thought, you approached him. You were starving for answers, anything to explain why you had been basically fired.

“Jayce.” You called out, a little louder than what you intended which earned you a few hushes from the students who were probably cramming three month’s worth of information in their head. The midterms were coming up, which led you to the library as well.

“Y/N! It’s been a while!” The bright man had leaned over and engulfed you in his arms. He never really knew of the idea of personal space but you had always appreciated the warmth and comfort he would so freely give you, so you selfishly accepted it.

“It has been.” You mumbled, a little sad at that. Aside from the fact that it was a great opportunity to work with the two creators of hextech, you had also just missed the presence of the two men. They were practically a constant in your life, something that you looked forward to every day, all that just to be yanked from you with a cold tone. 

“Y’finally decided you had enough of the lab?” Jayce chuckled with a shake of his head. He wouldn’t blame you if so. It was strenuous and anything but glamorous. He had figured that you had gotten your fill and decided to spend the remainder of your youth doing other things rather than slave away at a secluded lab. 

“Uhm, no? Viktor told me to stop coming.” 

Jayce blinked at you awkwardly and you blinked back. An odd feeling tugged at your heart, maybe it was a touchy subject but you were completely and utterly desperate for some sort of closure. Something that could make letting everything go a little easier than it was now. 

Jayce let out an awkward chuckle, lifting his arm and rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, he did? That’s weird.” 

“He never told you?” You inquired with a lift of your eyebrow. Jayce simply shook his head, doing as much as he could to avoid your gaze. A weird tension began to grow in the space between you, and Jayce, as much of an image he is for Piltover, simply could not handle awkward situations. 

“That’s crazy! Anyway, I have to go.” Jayce plucked a book from the shelf in front of you, seemingly at random and scurried off. You turned to chase after the man but he practically ran out of the library. You thought you were confused before this, but now it felt as though you didn’t know anything. 

As much as you wanted to study for your midterms, your brain was more focused on the sudden shift in your conversation with Jayce. You had run through all the possibilities in your head. Perhaps Jayce was feeling awkward now that you had been fired or maybe he was embarrassed that he was left out of the loop with the endeavours and plans of his very own research partner. You tried to entertain the thought that Jayce attempted to sway Viktor’s decision and the latter simply went behind his back – but even that sounded stupid. 

You looked up from your textbooks to where the ghost of Jayce’s presence once stood. Nothing was making sense. 

This was stupid. You were supposed to be studying for your midterms, you should be worried about your grades and your academic standing — but you were always terrible at following your brain instead of your heart. 

You were pacing around the entrance of the lab. You had been for the past five minutes. You wanted to speak with Viktor or better yet, you wanted to wrap your hands around his throat and beg the man to just speak to you, but that simply couldn’t be no matter the circumstances. Maybe in a perfect world. The bigger concern was if this really was a good idea or if you were about to make a complete fool of yourself — but the latter was a fleeting concern. You had probably made a fool of yourself in front of Viktor numerous times, this could be an exception, right? It’s not like you weren’t allowed to speak with him anymore, and if that was the case, well, you wouldn’t know what you would do. 

You ran your fingers through your hair for the nth time and decided to just go for it. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

Jayce had answered you at the door. He was barely peeking out the door, almost as if he was hiding. “Vik isn’t here.”

“I didn’t even…” You stopped mid way. You could hear the distinct sounds of tools hitting metal. That couldn’t be anyone else. You attempted to peer past Jayce but he was a large man, his chest covering what little opening the door already offered. 

“Jayce, please. Let me talk to him?” You pleaded quietly, placing a hand on his arm. 

Jayce sighed and dropped his head, allowing it to hang low from his shoulders. He looked back into the lab, anxiously chewing at his lower lip before he reluctantly agreed. He pushed the door open and let you pass under his arm as he stepped out — before you could ask why he was leaving, he had shut the door behind you. 

You turned around, heartbeat loud in your ears. There he was. He had his back turned to the door, hovering around the chalkboard. You could sense the frustration growing from him and he was definitely too engrossed in whatever he was doing to notice that you were not Jayce.

Your heart ached, the numbing feeling spreading from your chest until your fingertips. Just seeing the tuft of his unruly hair had you missing him more than you ever had. He was right in front of you, you did not need any further proof of that fact, but in that moment it felt like he was a million miles away.

“Jayce, excuse my language, but what the fuck is this math.” Viktor sighed in annoyance, running a hand over his face before he turned to look in your direction. Viktor’s eyes widened in realization the moment they landed on your figure. Almost as if he was caught in the act, the man did not move a muscle, simply staring right at you like he had just seen an apparition of Janna herself. 

Viktor cleared his throat and straightened up, “What are you doing here?” 

You shook your head and took a step forward. You were having none of this nonsense anymore, “Viktor, what’s going on?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Viktor sounded so calm that it infuriated you. How could he act so normal, so nonchalant, after everything that had happened? You shook your head again and looked away. You could feel yourself wavering, tears brimming in your eyes and your lips had begun to wobble. This conversation could have gone a million different ways but no matter what, it felt like you would eventually end up just like this. 

“Please just talk to me.” Your voice cracked but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. This was more than begging for your position back, you at the very least, just wanted to be able to talk to Viktor again. To go back to the way things were before. The rift that grew ever larger between the two of you had you resisting the urge to reach out like a pathetic child. 

The engineer simply sighed and tilted his head to the side, shifting his weight onto his healthier leg. “I’d like to believe we are talking right now.”

“Why did you tell me to stop coming to the lab?” 

Viktor simply turned back around and resumed his work. “I would rather not discuss that now, Ms. Y/L/N.” 

You were at a loss. There was no use in being rational now. You walked up to the chalkboard, right behind him and wrapped your arms around his torso. If he did not want to talk, then so be it, but you were not leaving the lab without at least letting him feel what you wanted to say. Your heart was pounding, maybe it had never stopped. You feared that it was strong enough that Viktor could feel it through all the barriers between you.

Viktor tensed underneath your touch. The sound of chalk scratching against the green board had come to an immediate halt. 

“I don’t think you understand.” Viktor whispered after what felt like minutes of silence, forehead pressed against the chalkboard. He didn’t dare look at you, not right now. Not when he felt so weak. One look from you and he was fucked. Viktor was a selfish man. He had grown up with nothing, he was nothing. Even after making a name for himself at Piltover, no one would pay him any mind. No one except you. You and your expressive eyes, kind words, and just how much you cared. It scared him. How could he face you when you had managed to peel through his carefully decorated façade?

You were nothing like the rest of them. You had looked past his physical being, you had seen him more than his weak leg, his cane, and the back brace embedded into his skin. It was a part of him now. It had always been, yet you had managed to strip that away from him. It was odd for Viktor to claim that you had treated him like a real person, the syllables were foreign on his tongue, but his lips were prepared to curl around them and proclaim to the world that you were perfect — and that was the problem. You’re young, intelligent, talented, beautiful, and so much more than what he could ever be, so why would he allow himself the privilege of being selfish and keeping you all to himself? You deserved so much more, more than the world and all the stars — how could he give you any of that?

“Let me understand.” You mumbled, nuzzling your face into his back. Your words were muffled and it tugged at the strings carefully wrapped around Viktor’s heart. You were so endearing, there was so much to love — Viktor could be dubbed a crazy scientist and an overachieving engineer, but he would toss that all away if it gave him the possibility of holding you close at night. 

Silence grew in the lab once more. It was cold but with your arms around Viktor that hardly felt like a problem. You were afraid that maybe you were pushing him too much, but the longer you stayed like this, you could feel him slowly letting go. 

“It seems that I have grown affectionate towards you.” Viktor explained quietly, hesitantly. You had never heard him sound so unsure of himself. “It’s quite bothersome. I cannot focus on my work like this.” You couldn’t stop the small giggle that escaped your lips. His words were soft, syllables pronounced but it was oozing with emotion. 

You shifted around, loosening your arms around the man’s torso in favor of wanting to see his face. “Is that so bad?”

You looped around but Viktor kept himself still. Eyes closed and forehead against the chalkboard. It looked like if he had even bothered to move the whole world would collapse in on itself. Viktor could feel your gaze burning into his skin. He scrunched his eyes shut even further and shook his head, turning to look the other way. You placed your hand on his arm, fingers wrapped around the fabric of his buttoned up shirt. You tugged on his shirt. The engineer let out a shaky breath and reluctantly turned to look at you. 

Viktor reached out, cupping a hand around the side of your face. “Eh… maybe not so much.” His thumb smoothed over the apple of your cheek. His touch was so light, so soft — almost as if he pressed any harder, you would break. You leaned into Viktor’s touch, humming softly. 

“I like you too, you know?” You mumbled. You lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. It felt as though you were melting under his gaze, you didn’t think it was humanly possible to look at someone with so much affection and care — Viktor was more than human anyway. 

It may not have been the right place or time, hell, the two of you were practically professing your love for one another at the goddamn lab. Viktor had always said that the lab was where miracles happened and you guessed that he wasn’t so wrong with that. The two of you remained like that for a few more moments before the brunette pulled away. The ghost of Viktor’s touch was burned into your skin and you were reluctant to admit that you had already missed it. 

He took a step forward and placed a gentle hand right by the crown of your head. 

“I may have picked up on a few hints.” 

Viktor leaned in and pressed his lips on your forehead. 

Your mind was racing and your heart was threatening to beat faster and faster until you died of heart failure right then and there. You scrunched your eyes shut and allowed yourself to really soak in the moment. This was what you had been waiting for, craving even, since you had met the man. You resisted the urge to pinch yourself, wondering if this all may be some fever dream. Despite feeling like you were on top of the world, Viktor’s touch kept you grounded. 

The man pulled away and cupped your face once more, this time with both of his hands. Cane discarded to lean on the side of the chalkboard. His gaze was almost scrutinizing, as if he himself was assessing if this was real or not. After a few moments, he pulled away and cleared his throat. 

“I hope that answers your question sufficiently.” Viktor adjusted his uniform vest and grabbed his cane. “Now if you don’t mind… I would, eh… like to return to my work. I think I had gotten enough inspiration to continue for the day.” He simply nodded and picked up a piece of chalk. You didn’t miss the fact that his cheeks were dusted with a soft pink hue. 

“Does this mean I can stay?” You hummed, arms wrapped around one of the poles that held the chalkboard up, a cheeky grin on your lips. 

Viktor turned his gaze to you, almost bashfully, and nodded his head. “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. That would be quite pleasant.” 

You let out a pleasant hum, turning to head to the couch before you were interrupted by a cough. You turned your head to the side, curious and a little confused. 

“Actually, ehm… there are some papers over there that need sorting… And I would like a cup of tea.” Viktor confessed shyly, bringing up a hand to point at a desk on the far side of the lab. You followed his hand with wide eyes. It was definitely more than ‘some’ papers, as Viktor had mentioned. It was at least two tall stacks worth of papers sitting next to each other. 

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “Seems like I’m kind of important ‘round here, huh?” You nodded your head and walked to the desk, determined to get started. 

Viktor nodded his head with a small smile, “Yes. Very important actually.”

[alexlwrites]

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Jungkook x Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:  The one where everytime you get dumped you pretend that you never met the guy before to mess with their heads. To the point that if you run into them somewhere you reintroduce yourself and act like you’ve never seen each other before.

Enters fuckboy Jungkook who disappears after your night together, not knowing how much he was about to regret that choice.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I’m truly sorry for this sad excuse of an update.

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞

(<<< part two)

You were on a date. Or so Jungkook believed.

He was skulking outside yet another coffee place, as you seemed to have a financially unadvised obsession with those. And although it might’ve seemed so to any passers-by, he was not stalking you.

He just so happened to stumble upon this place where he knew you usually had a chocolate cappuccino on Tuesdays at around 3 in the afternoon, as you didn’t have classes after 2 on Tuesdays and Fridays. 

All of that knowledge had been acquired through days of observing and cataloguing your quirks and traits. Jungkook had decided upon further introspection that just his charm and thick, veiny arms would not be enough to lure you back into his bedroom and so he decided to do some research. His findings were both surprising and not at all: you were fucking weird.

There was the caffeine addiction, the concerningly decorated messenger bags and your fixation with small fuzzy animal figurines - which he had confirmed with his little sister were called Calico Critters and, according to the expert appraisal of the nine-year-old, your collection was worth quite the money… His investigation had brought him many findings and eventually led him here: your third favorite coffee shop where you seemed to be laughing way too hard at some guy’s probably lame jokes. Couldn’t be better than his, Jungkook thought bitterly. You had laughed way harder at your… Well, one date.

Jungkook was once again taken by irrational anger, as that was all you seemed to invoke in him. How come he was climbing up the walls of his tiny dorm, haunted by the thought of your psychotic self and you got to move onto the next man (or should he say victim?) as if your night together had never happened? He felt used!

He was so close to an epiphany with that particular thought, he could feel self-actualization kissing his piercings. Alas, Jungkook was not interested in facing his own hypocrisy that day. No, he only craved confrontation and so he stepped into the cafe with squared shoulders and puffed chest like a New York pidgeon on its way to the last breadcrumb.

“Y/N” he called while approaching your table.

Your tired eye roll sent a shiver down his spine, but with you he could never tell if it was annoyance or arousal. 

Most likely both.

“Jeon” you answered in a clipped tone “how unsurprising and unpleasant to see you yet again. This is Jihoon” you gestured towards the man sitting in front of you, watching the whole interaction with mild interest “Jihoon, this is my stalker.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your little date” the way Jungkook spat out the last word made it clear that he was not at all sorry. “Also, I’m not a stalker.”

“That’s exactly what a stalker would say.” Jihoon extended his hand with an amused smile “So nice to meet you, Mr. Stalker. And please, don’t worry about our date” you snorted, making Jungkook feel like he was being left out of a big joke “this is just a couple of cousins catching up. You can still stalk her freely, although I don’t see why you would. Is it like a romantic gesture?”

“He’s already obsessed with me as it is. Don’t encourage him or I’m gonna end up in his basement.”

Jungkook felt the sudden urge to bite his fist and let out a five minute long suffering groan. Of course you were related. That look of unhinged superiority could only run in the family.

“Jeon, can I talk to you outside for a second?” You asked, but it seemed like an order as you pulled him away by his arm, Jihoon waving behind as you left the cafe.

Were you about to whoop his ass, he wondered. He didn’t doubt for a second that you could.

“This has gone too far now, Jeon” You said as soon as you were out of earshot from your curious cousin. “It was funny for maybe five minutes watching you throw a bitch fit but I’m tired of being afraid of opening my fridge at night and find you lurking behind the milk. You’re in my classes, my favorite coffee shops, the library and God knows you’re not reading in there… I even had to learn your name and for what?! What do you want from me? A therapist recommendation? A fucking exorcist?!”

“I want to take you out again.”

You blinked. Once. Twice.

“I hope you mean take me out with a gun and put me out of my misery!”

“I want to take you out on a date” he repeated resolutely.

“Why?! You said it yourself, you don’t have feelings for me, we have nothing in common… Haven’t I treated you shitily enough? Aren’t you loved at home?”

Jungkook scoffed. “We have plenty in common!” he said with very little conviction.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Well…” he scrambled his brain for something believable, because he doubted you would believe he also enjoyed reading mildly erotic retellings of Greek Mythology in the school yard, like you so clearly did “That movie theater on Fifth Street that you love. I also love that place.”

“You do?”

“They did a marathon of a couple of Marvel movies.”

“They only show foreign movies.”

“Well, that one happened in Wakanda, so… Foreign.”

You looked at him like he had just said the stupidest thing on earth. Honestly, knowing himself, he probably did.

“First of all, it’s weird that you know my favorite movie theater and it does nothing against the stalker allegations.” Jungkook just shrugged “But fine, if we got so much in common like you say, why don’t we go watch a movie tomorrow? Mind you” you pointed a stiletto acrylic nail at him before he smiled too hard “this is not a date. This is a friendly get-together. After all, we have so much in common, right? Surely we’ll be the best of friends, like rats and the plague.”

It was not what Jungkook wanted, but being your friend was better than hiding behind the shelves of the university library, so he agreed. This was just a start and the perfect one at that. What could be better than a movie date, right?”

***

Jungkook had been crying for the last 50 minutes. When you suggested watching a movie about a dictatorship, he thought it was going to be a war movie filled with action, like Wonder Woman or A Bug’s Life. Instead, he sat through the extremely emotional retelling of a family who lost its dissident dad to the military-forced disappearances and bawled the whole time, because, hey, he loves his dad, okay? Meanwhile, you were stuffing your face with popcorn and holding back a maniacal grin, patting his head softly like he was a lost child at the mall. 

When the movie ended, credits rolling down the screen, he excused himself to go to the bathroom and try to wash his tear-streaked face. Ok, so crying (sobbing, really) at the movies was not the sexiest move he could’ve pulled, but surely an intellectual woman such as yourself liked an emotional man, right? His manly empathy probably got him some brownie points, no?

“So” you started once he left the bathroom, dabbing at his eyes with a tissue “Did you enjoy the movie?”

“Ye-yeah, I did. I mean, it was kind of sad, I guess. Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh, I had already seen it.”

Jungkook stopped “What?”

“Oh, yeah, I downloaded it illegally months ago when it first aired in the Venice International Film Festival but I wanted to see your reaction. Honestly, it was so worth it.”

Jungkook had never in his life had met a more infuriating woman than you and he had a younger sister with a mean streak. Everything you did and said sent him into a spiral of frustration that had him testing the enamel of his teeth from so much grinding. “Do you enjoy watching grown men cry?” he said through a fake gritted smile.

“Yeah, don’t you? This could be one of the things we have in common! Do you want to invite your friends next time?”

Honestly, that was not that bad of an idea. Jimin and Taehyung had both been on his face for the past few days, making constant fun of him for his useless attempts at wooing you, so Jungkook would really enjoy some revenge. Maybe he could film it and become TikTok famous, maybe… Jungkook shook his head. He was not about to agree with you!

“What are you doing, Y/N?” he asked, trying and failing to hide his annoyance at your constant nonchalant teasing “I thought this was a friendly hang-out. Why are you being a brat?”

You raised your brows and crossed your arms and Jungkook just knew he was about to get the verbal beatdown of his life. Even the weed-smelling teenager sweeping the carpet of the movie theater seemed to know that, as he quickly swept his way into the broom’s closet with a wince. “Trust me, this is not me being a brat yet. This” you gestured towards the both of you with a menacing finger “is me being friendly. This is me being friendly to the guy who has been following me around campus for a week, disrupting my studies and my schedule. This is me being friendly to the guy who has not been able to take a hint so clearly in his face that even a blind Sherlock Holmes would say it’s fucking elementary. This is me being friendly to the man who created a narrative in his hair-filled head where he slept with me, left me and got annoyed and offended when I didn’t want to do it again. This is as friendly as I can get with bored, spoiled men-children who seem to have nothing better to do with their days besides annoying women into going out with them to fill a void they refuse to address in therapy. This is all the friendly you’re going to get from me, Jeon.”

Silence reigned over the movie theatre and even the popcorns seemed to stop popping to listen to the on-going drama. It was hard to find something to say after being emotionally stripped naked like that on a Wednesday, but Jungkook had not yet learned to take an L and shut up. 

“Look, I get that I may have given you the wrong first impression” you scoffed and seemed to be ready to go for round two “but! BUT! People can change, can’t they? I get that I’ve been pushy and I shouldn’t have called you crazy…”

“That was actually the one thing you got right.”

“But I’ve been working on it! I found out the things that you like, I watched that sad as fuck movie for you, I even got you this!” he reached into the pocket and pulled out the last thing you expected from him.

A tiny bunny figurine with a baker's hat.

“Is this a Baby Bakers Edition Calico Critters Bunny?” you asked, voice half awe and half confusion.

“My little sister said they’re limited edition. See?” he pushed the small bunny into your hand, watching you cradle it gently “I’m trying out here. What is it going to take for you to give me a chance?”

You toyed with the miniature’s ears, petting it gently as you frowned deep in thought. 

“A good reason” you answered at last. 

“What?”

“You asked what’s going to take for me to give you a chance. That 's it. I need a good reason. When I ask you ‘Why do you want to go on a date with me?’ I need you to give me a good reason.” You pocketed the bunny and stared deep into his eyes, an unsettling feeling growing in his chest “I don’t want to be some sort of point you’re proving or a challenge you’re overcoming. So I want you to give me a good reason why you want me.” you started walking away, leaving him confused once more “When you have that, then we can talk.”

(part four >>>)

°•. ✿ .•°

✿ My taglists are open! Click here to be added <3

[gyuswhore]

Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

[full fic here]

kim mingyu x reader

est. word count: 10-15k [fat chance]

est. release date: 10th September

warnings: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [MINORS DNI], angst, statistics, more to be added in final post

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

‼️ JOIN THE TAGLIST by sending an ask or replying under this post. AGE INDICATORS ON YOUR BLOG ARE NECESSARY. ‼️

[a/n]: first look into the TA collab fic!!! @camandemstudios has been along time in the making and I cant wait for you all to read all of the fics in full. accept this piece offering from me and please let me know what you think of it so far!

masterlist

“Right. How can I help you?”

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

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

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

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

It stumps you regardless.

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

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

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and wording were the problem.”

“You marked them?”

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

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

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

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

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes as the next words leave you in a low voice, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

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

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

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

Help, he did. 

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

It’s only then that you spot the segregated stack of papers in your bag that you remember. 

“I almost forgot,” you say, grabbing the pile and placing it in front of him. 

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply. 

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

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

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

You smile, “No problem.”

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 1.8 chapter index — next chap. masterlist

one

thursday, january 9th

go where the wind takes me. it’s a phrase you’d heard countless times over the years. it eased people, gave them perspective, helped them loosen up. but you? no, it did the opposite. it made you do what you did best—research. what kind of research? the top 100 most successful people and whether they’d ever "gone with the wind." the answer was no. not a single one. going with the wind doesn’t make anyone successful. it leads to dead ends, wrong turns, wasted time—and time was the one thing no one could afford to squander.

the importance of planning everything as meticulously as possible was something that you'd ingrained in your mind at a young age and it had led you exactly where you were. it was the foundation of everything you’d achieved: top of your class, surrounded by like-minded peers, ready for a prestigious summer program, and just a year away from the university of your dreams. everything you’d worked for was at your fingertips. nothing could get in your way now.

"hi, sandy," you greeted the office secretary who watched you struggling to balance a precarious stack of papers in your arms.

"good morning, sweetheart. need help with that?" sandy asked with a warm smile.

"nope, i’ve got it," you replied, setting the stack on the counter with a satisfying thud. carefully, you aligned the papers before placing your palms on top to steady them.

"these are the documents for the student body audit next week. i printed an extra copy for principal oakley, complete with annotations, just in case there’s any confusion."

"always so thorough," sandy remarked with a grin. the compliment made your entire week.

"ah, just who i needed to see." a familiar voice sounded behind you and you twirled around to see principal oakley walking into the office. "oh, good morning, principal oakley." you said, your tone as polished as ever. you barely glanced at the boy trailing behind him before falling into step with the principal.

and yes, following him into his office was a tad unconventional but someone with as much determination and drive as you rarely let things like "innaproriate behaviour" get in your way.

"you are just who i wanted to see too. i know the holidays just ended but i did want to just follow up on my recommendation letter which you'd think about writing, remember?" you fixed your bag on your shoulder as principal oakley sat at his desk and briefly glanced behind you.

"y/n—" the principal tried to interrupt.

you didn't stop talking. "and i know you don't write recommendation letters for your students to keep things fair and whatnot but i—" principal oakley tried to interrupt again but didn't have the chance before you continued rattling. "—hope you reconsidered because i just know that having your letter under my belt will make me stand out to the admissions board and who am i if not representation for our fine school?"

principal oakley cleared his throat and this time you noticed the brief glance behind you. you slowly followed his gaze to see rafe cameron leaning against the doorframe.

your mental file on him loaded instantly: soccer player, tall, messy, and in your opinion, a bit… ran through. still contemporary philosophy like utilitarianism says the morality of having multiple partners depends on whether it increases overall happiness and minimizes harm so you were in no position to shame anyone just trying to increase their own happiness. you suppose.

"oh, was this a bad time?" you asked sheepishly, stepping aside. "not at all," the principal replied. "in fact, this concerns you as well. please, have a seat—and refrain from going into rants until i'm finished speaking." principal oakley says.

frowning in confusion, you complied. sitting beside rafe, you tried to mask your unease. what could he have to discuss with both you and rafe cameron? you weren't very good with uncertainty so sitting still was becoming a challenge as principal oakley rummaged through his desk.

you had to focus on something to stop yourself from panicking so you focused on him. very discreetly. he was so very..unruly. like something hard to contain, just spilling over the edges with his messy hair, that sweater that was not ironed, the shirt under the sweater that was untucked in that untidy way, that smell—woody with a faint hint of vanilla. you liked that smell.

you looked down at your own clothes—a powder blue ruffle top from khaite that you saved for for months and gifted yourself over winter break, off-white pants that were perfectly ironed and fresh from the laundry, hair in a neat french twist. from first sight, you and him were polar opposites.

"alright, y/n," principal oakley finally sat back down, his gaze steady as you watched him attentively. "you know rafe, right?" he asked, gesturing slightly toward the boy seated across from you. your eyes flicked to rafe, who was already staring at you, his expression unreadable.

"uh-huh," you murmured, turning your focus back to the principal.

"well, rafe here has a little problem." principal oakley slid a paper across the desk, and your curiosity spiked as you glanced down. it was rafe's report card.

it was disastrous.

you gasped softly, and rafe let out a noise of protest. "shit, it's not that bad," he muttered, leaning in close to peer over your shoulder at his own grades. the sudden proximity sent a ripple of awareness through you. despite your best efforts to stay indifferent, the intoxicating mix of his scent and the startling lack of male attention in your life was doing a number on your self-control.

"language, mr. cameron. and yes, it really is that bad," principal oakley said firmly. "which is why we need your help, y/n."

you tried to focus, though every nerve in your body screamed for you to stay perfectly still, afraid rafe would pull back. your intrusive thoughts—chief among them being the absolutely insane urge to bury your head in his neck—were becoming harder to suppress. quickly, you straightened and fixed your attention on the principal.

"my help?" you asked, the words laced with genuine confusion.

"the athletic board won’t let rafe play next season if he doesn’t pass at least one of his failing classes. we’ve discussed it with his teachers, and they believe algebra is his best shot. mr. coleman specifically suggested you for the job. he said your grasp of the material is exceptional, sometimes even surpassing his. your work ethic, dedication, and knowledge are exactly what rafe needs to bring his grade up to a satisfactory six—or, with hope, even a seven or seven and a half."

principal oakley's words hung in the air as you processed them. finally, you blinked slowly. "you want me…" you began cautiously, "to take him from a two-point-five to a seven-point-five in five months?"

"that’s like 150 days," rafe interjected, his tone unexpectedly eager. "we can do this! i’ll be the best student, i swear."

we?

"and on which planet is that 150 days, rafe?" you turned to him, your voice tinged with disbelief. "five months is about 150 days, sure. but i don’t know about you, mr. cameron, but i have class every day from eight to three. we have over 15 assignments a month, tests, midterms in march. i’m student body president. i’m organizing spring fling, pajama day, color war, the bake sale, and the car wash fundraiser—where, by the way, i expect the soccer team’s full, enthusiastic participation in semi-nude form for maximum profit. there’s also valentine’s day card exchanges, college fairs, and, oh, right—i have a life. i need to eat, study, and spend enough time with my friends and family to avoid being accused of neglecting them." you folded your arms. "so tell me, rafe, where in that mess do you see time for this?"

rafe stared at you, slightly wide-eyed.

"exactly," you concluded, crossing your legs. "nowhere."

you turned back to principal oakley. "maybe someone could contact the board and ask for len—"

"y/n, this is their leniency. usually, a two-point-five is an automatic cutoff." principal oakley cut you off, his voice calm but insistent. "i wouldn’t be asking if i didn’t believe in you."

the praise softened you momentarily. "principal oakley," you began, reaching into your bag and pulling out your life planner with a flourish. its heft rattled the pens on his desk. "this is my schedule." flipping to the last pages, you tapped a line with a manicured nail. "rafe, read this."

he leaned in, eyebrows raised. "january 20th, 2056: be sworn in as the 59th president of the country."

you smiled, all proud like you'd already achieved it which you technically had since everything that belonged to you was already yours.

"now, as you can imagine, i have a very rigorous plan in place to achieving my final goal and unfortunately, my schedule is just..airtight until.." you grimaced, "atleast 2061, maybe 2065." you were still debating the second term.

rafe chuckled quietly, and you shot him a glare before principal oakley interrupted.

"i assume my recommendation letter holds a significant place in your 30-year plan."

you hesitated. "…it does."

"well, helping your fellow student would demonstrate the leadership and dedication your university looks for. i could write you a glowing recommendation and even personally contact the dean’s office if you agree to tutor mr. cameron."

you froze, your mind flashing with possibilities. the thought of the dean knowing your name—of shaving years off your plan—was too good to pass up.

"fine," you said at last, exhaling. "but i expect nothing short of perfection in that letter. and the dean better invite me for tea when you’re done."

turning to rafe, you leveled him with a sharp look. "every tuesday and sunday at four. take this seriously, or you’ll see how hostile i can get. and read the chapters beforehand. i’ll text you my address."

you strode toward the door.

"you don’t have my number!" rafe called after you, amusement clear in his voice.

"i practically live in this office, rafe!" you shot back over your shoulder. "i have everyone’s number!"

chapter index — next chap. masterlist

[himasgod]

NRC STAFF AND YUU

Where they find out that Yuu is self-harming

I was going to add a warning and a lil comf message as always in this type of fanfics, but I think annonie explains it pretty well <3

responding to this request

It was Grim who approached him—nervously, voice urgent.

“You gotta talk to Yuu, Professor. They’ve been… off. They flinch when I get too loud, and the other day I saw bandages I know weren’t there before. I don’t get it… why would they do that?”

Crewel paused.

He had graded over fifty exams last night, scolded a third-year for exploding a cauldron... But that one sentence stopped everything.

He didn't scold Grim. He didn't panic. He nodded once and said,

“Thank you for telling me. You did the right thing, pup.”

That night, Crewel stayed up researching.

He was poring through psychology journals. His brow furrowed as he read about pain, coping mechanisms, and invisible wounds.

The next morning, he requested Yuu stay after class. Not in front of the others—he simply handed them a folded slip during potion lab, saying, “Come see me after last bell. No rush.”

When Yuu arrived, they looked uneasy, shoulders high with tension.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“No. Sit. Please.”

They did, eyes darting to the ingredients shelf, then to the floor. Crewel sat across from them, hands folded on his desk, voice softer than they’d ever heard it.

“Grim spoke to me.”

Yuu froze. Crewel continued gently.

“He’s worried about you. And now, so am I.”

Silence. Yuu’s throat tightened.

“I’m sorry—” they blurted, eyes starting to burn.

“I didn’t want anyone to know— I was just— I didn’t know how else to deal with everything and—”

“Stop.”

Not a harsh command. Crewel stood and walked around the desk. He knelt beside them, one gloved hand hovering over their shaky hands .

“You have nothing to apologize for. Pain is not a moral failure. It doesn’t make you shameful. It makes you human.”

Yuu’s breath hitched.

“I’m not here to fix you. I can’t wave a magical pen and erase what you’ve felt. But I can promise you this: you’re not alone in this. Not anymore.”

He rose, placed a hand over his heart.

“You’re a part of this college. My student. And I take care of what’s mine.”

From then on, Crewel didn’t hover—but he checked in.

When Yuu looked withdrawn in class, he’d ask them to help sort ingredients. I

f they were dissociating, he’d say, “Mind walking with me to the greenhouse?”

Small tasks that let them breathe.

And he never pushed. Never pried.

Only left the door open—always open.

Crowley had a knack for dramatics. He thrived on being the center of the room.

But when Grim nervously shuffled into his office one rainy afternoon and said, “I think Yuu’s in trouble,” the headmage's feathers metaphorically dropped.

He didn't say a word at first. Just listened.

Later, he knocked on Ramshackle’s door himself.

Yuu answered, surprised. “Headmage?”

He took off his mask.

“May I come in?”

They blinked.

Crowley never took off his mask.

Never.

Crowley stood in the entryway.

“I hear you’ve been struggling. And before you say anything—I’m not here as your headmage.”

He placed the mask gently on a dusty table.

“I’m here as someone who once felt like a ghost too.”

Yuu swallowed hard.

“I know it’s hard, adjusting to this place,” he continued. “You’ve had to survive here without magic, without family, without answers. And you’ve done it all without a safety net.”

His voice wavered.

“Perhaps I should’ve given you one sooner.”

Yuu stared at him. Crowley’s eyes, usually behind his mask, were steady.

“Can I show you something?” he asked.

He led them to a storage room near the staff quarters. There, behind old uniforms and spell books, was a small chest. He opened it.

Inside were journals.

Dozens of them, worn at the edges.

“I wrote these when I was your age. A long, long, long.... long time ago.” he said quietly.

“When I didn’t understand the world, or my place in it. When I thought maybe… the world would be better off without me.”

Yuu’s breath caught.

“You’re not weak for needing help,” he said, turning to them. “You’re wise for accepting it.”

From then on, when he saw them anxious in a hallway, he didn’t sweep them away with flair.

He’d tap their shoulder, whisper, “There’s tea in my office. Let’s get some air.”

And on days when Yuu couldn’t speak at all, Crowley would sit beside them in silence. No mask. Just himself.

In time, Yuu came to understand that even the loudest voices sometimes scream just to be heard.

And Crowley?

He’d make sure Yuu never had to scream alone again.

It started with a quiet knock on the side door of Mystery Shop one evening after lights-out.

“Hey, little imp,” he said without turning around“Didn’t expect you tonight.”

But when Yuu stepped inside, their energy wasn’t curious about the items. It was heavy.

Sam finally looked over, smile fading as he saw their eyes red rimmed, hands tucked in their sleeves.

“Something happened?”

“I relapsed.”

Sam didn’t recoil, didn’t gasp.

He just set down the crystal orb he’d been polishing and stepped out from behind the counter.

“Come sit,” he said gently, guiding them to the little seating nook near the incense shelf. “Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t know,” Yuu whispered. “I just—Grim told the others, and everyone’s being kind, but I feel like I’m broken again. Like I failed.”

Sam reached over and pulled a tiny wooden box from a shelf behind him.

“Know what this is?” he asked, resting it in their lap.

Yuu shook their head.

“This box came from a spirit walker in the Scalding Sands. It’s over four hundred years old,” Sam explained. “Used to carry healing charms, notes of love, little promises folks made to themselves when they were hurting.”

He opened it slowly.

Inside were slips of folded paper—some new, some brittle with age.

Sam added one more—his own. He held it out to Yuu.

“Write one. Anything you want. Doesn’t have to be big. Could be: ‘I want to breathe tomorrow.’ Or: ‘I want to see the sun.’”

Yuu stared, then shakily took the pen.

After a long pause, they wrote:

“I want to believe I’ll be okay again.”

Sam tucked it inside the box, sealed it, and whispered, “Now it’s kept safe. No refunds, no backsies. That promise is real now.”

Yuu smiled weakly.

From that night forward, Sam always had a space open at the back of the shop.

If Yuu was overwhelmed in class, they’d sometimes find a handmade “delivery” waiting in their dorm room: a spell charm for calm dreams, a candle, or a simple note that read:

“Healing ain’t linear. But I’ve seen how stubborn you are. You’ll get there.”

Professor Trein stood at the front, chalk still in hand, yet his eyes had wandered from the blackboard.

He watched Yuu—slumped at their desk, shoulders taut, eyes unfocused. Not bored. Not distracted. Disassociated.

Lucius had already leapt from his desk perch and was weaving around Yuu’s chair. Trein set the chalk down.

“Yuu,” he said calmly, “Could you assist me in the archive room for a moment?”

There was no reason to doubt the request. It was casual enough.

No alarm in his tone. No heads turned. Yuu nodded numbly, rising without protest as the class barely took notice.

Trein’s pace was slow as he led them to a quiet hall—far from noise.

He closed the door behind them.

“Would you like to sit?” he offered, pulling out a chair from a reading desk.

Yuu did. But their gaze remained lowered.

Trein sat across from them, hands folded.

“There are lessons one cannot find in any curriculum,” he began, “Lessons about how to exist in a world that often refuses to make space for our pain.”

Silence.

“You don’t need to speak right away. I only ask that you listen.”

Yuu nodded once—just enough to let him know they were still with him.

“I’ve seen the signs,” he said. “The trembling. The vacant stares. The way your hands fidget when you believe no one is watching.”

“I want you to know I do not pity you. Pity can be shallow and cruel. What I feel is respect.”

Yuu looked up, confused.

“It takes strength to face each day knowing you’re at war with your own thoughts. It takes courage to survive when the world you knew has been torn from you and replaced with a place that doesn’t always feel real.”

Trein continued, “Grim came to me out of concern. And I assure you, Yuu… there is no shame in stumbling during recovery. Only in believing you must do it alone.”

Lucius jumped into Yuu’s lap then, curling up. Yuu slowly let a hand drift to stroke his back.

Trein gave a faint smile.

“Even Lucius knows who needs grounding.”

He then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bound notebook—aged but blank.

“This is for you. Write what hurts. What confuses you. Or write nothing at all. You may tear out the pages, burn them, or never show a soul. But sometimes, the mind cannot quiet until its burdens are given a place to rest.”

Yuu took it gently.

Down the road, Trein never hovered. But he always noticed.

If Yuu’s answers in class were shorter than usual, he’d adjust the lesson pace. If he saw their breathing stutter when voices around grew loud, he’d assign a solo reading task and lead the others elsewhere—shielding them with normalcy.

“Oi! You’re not gettin’ out of PE that easy!”

Yuu had hoped to sneak past the training field.

But Vargas spotted them with that hawk gaze of his and jogged over, waving enthusiastically.

They braced for a lecture about attendance, but he paused as he got closer.

“You okay?” he asked—less gruffly than usual.

Yuu tried to shrug it off, but Vargas tilted his head.

“I know I ain’t always the most gentle guy. But I do notice when one of my students looks like they’re carryin’ a boulder on their back.”

He crossed his arms.

“You wanna go for a walk?”

Yuu blinked. “You’re not gonna make me run laps?”

“Nope. Today we walk. Slowly. No sweat.”

So they did—around the track, where Vargas usually shouted drills.

His voice was calm, explaining how, even in physical training, injuries sometimes come from inside.

“Used to have a friend back in my rookie days,” he said. “Tough guy. Strong as hell. But he had demons in his head that none of us could see.”

He glanced at Yuu.

“Pain ain’t just broken bones and bruises. You can be fightin’ for your life, and no one will know unless they look close enough.”

Yuu swallowed. “I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“You didn’t,” Vargas said, dead serious. “You’re still standin’. You showed up today. That takes guts.”

They stopped near the bleachers, and Vargas handed them something—a pair of weight gloves.

“These are yours now, not for lifting. Not for workouts. Just a reminder. You’re stronger than you think.”

From then on, Vargas kept an eye on them.

If Yuu’s breathing quickened during group drills, he’d subtly call a “water break.” If they looked spaced out, he’d shout, “Hey! Wanna time me on the sprint?”

[official-linguistics-post]

frequently asked questions

PLEASE check these items before you send an ask!

icon...

it's the old logo for the speech analysis software praat.

pronouns?

they/them!

why can't i find your ask box?

it's probably temporarily closed so i can pretend i didn't accidentally start a semi-popular blog.

where can i start learning about linguistics?

i recommend crash course linguistics as a good entry point. for more thorough coverage, essentials of linguistics is an open access textbook.

how do i major in linguistics? how do i get a graduate degree in linguistics?

go to a school that has a major or graduate program in linguistics. then do well in classes. sorry, y'all, i'm not an admissions consultant.

how many languages do you know?

english, arguably. possibly more. no i will not specify further.

thoughts on...

chat/bro being pronouns? they're not. fourth person pronouns? don't exist in english. conlangs? not my area.

can you answer my really specific question?

i try not to act authoritative about topics i'm not actually an authority on—which is most of linguistics. i can offer my educated thoughts, but please don't use me as a formal source (unless you've magically hit on the single minuscule topic i know like the back of my hand, in which case i'll swear you to secrecy and then send you my citations).

what's your subfield?

i generally cite it as being historical linguistics, but that's kind of just my umbrella: under that my primary research has touched on morphology, sociolinguistics, and epigraphy.

are you [insert real person]?

statistically, no!

are you really a linguist?

i have a BA, MA, and PhD in linguistics/linguistic anthropology.

you're a loser.

you don't know the half of it!

[pearlescentparade]

SUBREADERKIT PREDISASTER ONESHOT OR DRABBLE OR WHATEVER YOU CALL IT!!!! Honestly I say go crazy apeshit cuz I really wanna see what u come up with but pretty please at some point let reader give a kissie to medkit ok... And since this is subreaderkit and not readerkit make subspace somehow happy too ig😒

.....I think I got. Veeeery late. Oh my god

--subreaderkit anon

warning this was not in fact a drabble . its 3.3k words

dead heat ✦⬧ predisaster subspace x reader x medkit 💝

the noises of shuffling papers and hasty writing can be thought of as unbearable to anyone else. but to the two young blackrockian researchers, the source of the aforementioned ruckus, it's everyday ambience. 

it'd be stranger not to hear it, really. in the rigorous curriculum of blackrock's institutions, there is a new project assigned every single week, and this week is evidently not an exception to this long-standing tradition.

brain rummaging through the right words to write, you tap your pen on your chin, eyes narrowing at the scrawled ink of the explanatory essay that was to be turned in alongside your project. the conclusion shouldn't be too hard, but after writing several pages about 'the long-term impacts of gears on an inphernal's biology' in the span of six hours? your brain's got nothing.

"..i can finish it, if you're stuck." a meek voice pipes up from behind you. if it weren't for the hand he gently clasped on your shoulder, as if cautious of startling you, you'd have missed the fact that he even spoke at all. 

by some stroke of luck bestowed unto you by the deities, you had somehow successfully nabbed the perfect student to be your partner. one of two incredibly promising rising prodigies in blackrock's institution: medkit. or, to be more accurate, he politely rejected every other student leaping over desks to be his partner and asked if you two could work together.

when he asked so nicely, with that particularly hopeful shine in his eyes begging you to say 'yes'… even if he assured you that 'no' was an option, he made it difficult to believe. it caught you off guard, considering how he preferred to work alone if it was an option. it's obvious that medkit doesn't need the assistance of others to succeed. his own capabilities are capable of taking him far and beyond, and they already do. not only that, he rarely spoke in class aside from answering whatever question the professor posed. 

he always stayed in his lane, hard-focused on himself.

but you guess this time was different. 

medkit himself felt different too. when he beelined right to your desk, his stiff posture yet purposeful stride was reminiscent of a wind-up toy soldier. and when he stood in front of you, in front of a singular inphernal, his fingers fidgeted more than when he presented in front of the whole class. he was lucky that he wasn't getting graded for talking to you, otherwise it would be the only F on his report card.

you had initially found it strange and out-of-character, outside of the consistent pattern that he worked inside of. but you'd be a fool to pass up a collaboration with medkit of all inphernals. your grades were good, but they could be even better. and you have no doubt in your mind that medkit knew that when he came up to you.

medkit was unintentionally conniving in that way, taking all factors into consideration and cornering you when he was sure that his desired outcome was guaranteed.

no matter how you looked at it, accepting medkit's partnership held only benefits for you. but you couldn't help but wonder what exactly medkit gained out of partnering with you. in terms of performance, you were above average, but nowhere near his level. many weren't. and in a facility packed full of inphernals who clawed their way to a high ranking, who cared not for others but for themselves and their faction, you cannot help but be skeptical of the possible idea of attached strings.

you glance over your back, meeting medkit's worried gaze with similar concern. his eyes are round, dark, and cute, you think. like a baby deer's. "oh, are- are you sure? you've been doing all of the heavy research work, so i ought to do all of the essay-"

but he simply shakes his head, "really, it's alright." you frown, staring intently at the blank space next to the last word you wrote. sensing your hesitance still, he continues, "this subject is one of my favorites in any case, it won't take long."

it's becoming increasingly and abundantly clear that you aren't winning here, so you get up from the desk with a drawn out sigh and hand over your pen to medkit. his fingers delicately curl around it when it plops in his palm, treating as gently as he would if it were your finger.

he replaces you in the seat, promptly jotting down new sentences with little time needed to think about them. in awe, you watch him work. as he writes, your eyes can't help but follow the end of your pen as it glides across the page: dotting an 'i', rising and falling for an 'l', or following the curved tail of a 'y'. 

then, your gaze falls from the hypnotic motion of the pen to the fresh ink shapes it leaves behind. medkit's handwriting resembles printed font, every word legibly neat and clear despite his vigorous writing speed. reading it feels as easy as him writing it. it's funny, because when you glance back to where you left off, it takes hardly any effort to discern when the writer switched due to the sheer contrast in penmanship. hopefully there's no "handwriting consistency" category needed on the rubric.

after stabbing a period next to a word, the tip of the pen suddenly stills. you tilt your head, curious of why. is he stuck? impossible, with the rate he was just writing at. is he done? maybe, he'd written more than half of a page.

"um, you don't.. need to watch me write."

medkit doesn't look at you as he addresses you, likely to hide the otherwise apparent blush burning his face. a soft glow emanates from his crystal, gradually growing more prominent with every second. he had not a clue why you stayed there rather than sitting elsewhere or occupying yourself. watching him write couldn't be that interesting.

you lean down, and medkit immediately turns his head to the other side, determined to not face you. "well, i'm cheering you on, 'cause there's nothing left to do." a playful grin creeps onto your features, as you begin to chant, "give me an m~ give me a-"

he groans, effectively telling you to cut it out without using any words. "that's- only going to distract me more.."

you giggle. his heart giggles too, and he has to drag his hand over his face under the guise of a facepalm to wipe off the smile that his lips twitch into.

it's interesting. when he's being examined by proctors and higher-ups in much more rigorous tests, he can perform like normal. yet, doing something as simple as writing felt strenuous with your eyes on him. perhaps, he hypothesized, because he's accustomed to the judgement of greater authority. he's familiar with the way they scrutinize his work, and they do so everyday.

on the other hand, medkit has only concepts of what you think of him. he's rarely even spent a moment alone with you.

oh swords. he's alone with you.

"y'know, medkit, i've been meaning to ask…"

oh swords.

"...why did you choose me as your partner for this project?"

oh swords, oh fuck.

medkit stiffens. his lips repeatedly open and close as he carefully deliberates over what he should say to you. gears visibly turn in his head while he scraps responses as quickly as he constructs them. in a moment like this, every inflection and implication behind every word matters. it'd be a terrible shame to lose all of his progress in courting you (which is actually not a lot, in retrospect. but it felt momentous to him) to fumbling something as simple as small talk.

nothing involving you was ever simple to him.

with a quiet exhale, he sends out his winner, "well.. i… believe it's- important. to learn how to cooperate with different inphernals."

you narrow your eyes, skeptic. medkit's shoulders tense when he hears you huff. how unfortunate, he'd underestimated you. "yeah, right. you always like to work alone."

so you noticed even that? his heart skips a beat, both panic and fluster swirling in his chest. "i didn't take you for a liar, meds." your arms cross, and your appearance resembles that of a disappointed higher authority. something unfamiliar to medkit.

he could lie. he didn't do it often, but he's omitted a few details here and there. he was clever, and he could lie well enough. it helps that he has that "good" image too. no inphernal expects the "good" kid to lie.

but he doesn't have bad intentions when he lies. when he lies, it's to help. that's the only reason people should ever lie: to shield the damaged from complete destruction, and to gift hope to the hopeless. to heal. that's his job.

so naturally, the one time he can't slip by is when he's being selfish and stepping out of that role assigned to him from spawn.

"well?"

right. you were waiting for him. his grip on your pen tightens, as if clutching it would calm his buzzing nerves. it does not. they only get louder and hotter, akin to an angry nest of wasps.

he wants to be selfish and greedy and all the things healers aren't supposed to be.

"because.." his throat has never felt drier. 

you uncross your arms, eyebrows worriedly knitting together at his uncharacteristic speechlessness. you thought it'd be fun to tease him—y'know, loosen him up a little—but you wouldn't have asked if you knew such a question would send him into a panic. 

in an attempt to maybe move away from the topic, you start to shrug it off. "...i mean, it's only a question. you don't have to answer, i was just curious if-"

suddenly, medkit turns his head to face you and finally make eye contact. the sharp movement captures your attention completely, a stark contrast to the usual smooth way medkit carries himself with.

his voice is the loudest you've ever heard it when he practically announces, "i chose you as my partner because i—!!"

"—because he wants to feel better about himself, obviously!!" a harsher, more boisterous voice rings out from the door of medkit's dorm, seamlessly stealing his spotlight.

medkit's heart drops when your attention redirects to subspace as he waltzes right in. subspace maliciously grins as you give him your full, undivided attention on a silver platter.

"that's not true-" medkit desperately tries to defend himself against such slander, but subspace continues, "using a lower-ranking classmate to feed his savior complex, and not only that, but inviting them to his room?! how scandalous!!!" the pink-horned inphernal feigns a look of pity and dramatically rests his hand over his heart, to say it aches for you. "oh, you poor soul!! he didn't do anything to you, did he?!?"

you roll your eyes, but laugh at his over-the-top theatrics. if he weren't a researcher, you think he would've made a marvelous actor. "knock it off, subspace. you know medkit wouldn't try anything. we're just working on a project together."

even though you reprimanded him, subspace's smile grows, pleased at himself for getting a giggle out of you. on the other hand, medkit sighs in relief that you're not so easily swayed by the other inphernal, though he knows subspace is not at all convincing. but subspace's presence still had him on edge. and with you in the mix, medkit is damn near about to fall off.

"yes, and speaking of which—i'm done with the essay." you glance to medkit, and he gestures to you with a nod, "you can go back to your dorm now. we'll meet in the morning." he says decisively. though it pains his heart to send you away so soon (and without answering your question), it would mean getting you away from subspace. and that always takes priority.

when subspace sees this, he cackles. he could already guess why medkit was in such a rush. so naturally, he instigates, "oh, so cold!! the moment the project is done, he doesn't need you anymore!! just casts you to the side, like a failed experiment." his tone darkens at the end.

you quirk a brow when he skips up to you and leans in, his lower horns grazing your cheek as he lowly murmurs in your ear, "if you were the partner of the great subspace t. mine, you would never feel so discarded."

subspace enthusiastically pulls away, scanning your face for any signs of a fun reaction or fluster, only to be disappointed with a half-amused smirk.

"if i were the partner of the great subspace t. mine, i'd get my ear talked off about his latest inventions." for the first time upon stepping into medkit's room tonight, he frowns. for all you did in response was wave him off with nothing more than a chuckle, and head straight out the door.

yes, you laughed because of him again. but you laughed in the way a superior would laugh at a foolish, impossible idea of his, and not in the way you should have. you should have laughed in the way you would if you agreed with him.

but you didn't.

two pairs of eyes watch your back as you slide open the door, idling in the doorway. "it's alright, i'm sleepy as hell anyway. goodnight, you two. don't keep each other up too late with your bickering." 

"goodnight… sleep well."

"no promises!"

the metal door slides closed behind you as you step out into the dormitory hall. your dorm is not too far from medkit's, but you're not exactly neighbors, so it's quite a walk. it's quiet at this hour, giving you the space for a nice, peaceful stroll. you stretch, mind wandering to what you'll do now that your night is free. maybe you'll just sleep early. that sounds good. 

meanwhile, the other side of the door grows a few degrees hotter.

"...you gonna keep that pen for your shrine or something, meddy? creeeppppyyyy~" naturally, subspace is the first to cut through the tense silence. he peers at medkit from the corner of his eye, his snickers positively aggravating as he resumes mocking him.

medkit whips around to face subspace with a look of confusion mixed with disgust. "what- no, what?? subspace, what pen are you-"

clatter.

he pauses, then slowly cranes his head back. your pen had rolled off of his hand onto the last page of the essay, gradually slowing, then teetering between two faces, before it chooses one and stills completely.

"that's not their pen."

"i'm not stupid, meddy. it has their name inscribed on it."

"so what if they left their pen here, i can just return it in the morning-"

"you're always waiting." subspace's voice goes up at least two octaves for his terrible medkit impression, "oh, i'll talk to them tomorrow, or- ohhh, i'll ask to work together on the next project-" then he drops down to his normal tone, "-gosh, you're such a pathetic FAILURE!! you know what happens to demons who wait, meddy?!"

before medkit can react, subspace snatches the pen, the paper it was resting on fluttering up from the sudden deft movement.

"they LOSE!!"

with his echoing maniacal laughter, and a scrambling medkit behind him, he rushes out of medkit's room and down the hall. loud footsteps shake the calm-up-until-a-few-seconds-ago dormitory as the two race, and if one listened closely, they could hear the collective groans of the numerous inhabitants trying to sleep or work on their own projects.

"better speed it up back there meddy, or i'm gonna get there first~!!"

"what are you, a child?!"

the location of your room is common knowledge to subspace, who's invited himself inside a myriad of times to grace you with his presence and lengthy rants about his various accomplishments. or to drag you out to help him with testing a new gadget. here, subspace had the home advantage.

on the other hand, medkit can only tail him hopelessly. even if he did get ahead, he had no clue of where your room is. but he didn't need to. because medkit didn't need to be first to your room.

he just needed to be the one with the pen.

subspace skids to a stop outside of your door, frenetically slamming his hand repeatedly on your doorbell. within seconds, medkit catches up, breathless but determined. turns out sitting at a desk and writing and running experiments doesn't do very much for your physical health.

seeing medkit struggle, subspace scoffs. this is the way it should be, he thinks, with him in first and medkit in second.

he prepares to aim another venom-laced jab, but it doesn't even leave his mouth when medkit strategically pokes subspace in his side. a small attack, but surprisingly effective, considering that subspace is incredibly ticklish there. the pink demon shrieks, and the teal demon seizes the opportunity to wrestle your pen out of the former's hand.

subspace's face crinkles, shoulders raising in preparation for what medkit could only assume to be a retaliation. but then the pink demon's eyes flicker from the teal demon to the door behind him, and immediately fixes his posture and face to be 'normal'. knowing subspace wouldn't act out with your eyewitness, medkit shoots him one last burning glare before turning around. meeting your confused gaze almost makes him want to pivot right back around.

you blink, surprised to see the two at your door now of all times. or willingly together in general, for that matter. your eyes dart between them, noting their heavy breathing and slightly off-kilter uniforms. when subspace notices that you're observing him, he quickly adjusts his skewed collar.

"did you guys run here? is.. is there an emergency or-"

"your pen."

medkit holds it out to you abruptly, your engraved name shining from the light in your room spilling into the hall.

"you, uh, forgot it." his eyes, having reached his eye contact limit with you, opt to look at his boots instead. in the back, subspace snickers at his coworker's hopelessness.

the tips of your fingers brush against medkit's as you retrieve your pen, the steel cool against your warmth. with fond eyes, you turn the pen around in your fingers, relishing its return to your possession. it had been a farewell gift to you from your caretaker before you were sent to this facility. so needless to say, it's precious.

and shouldn't good deeds be rewarded?

with little warning, you clasp your hands around medkit's face and bring his head forward into a sweet kiss on the forehead.

his brows shoot up and a faint gasp escapes him. his stomach could earn a trophy for acrobatics due to how hard it's somersaulting. when you withdraw from your little stunt, you can see his much more apparent blush as a deep crimson crawls up his neck to the top of his head. a giggle bubbles in your throat at the sight.

"thank you so much, medkit. it means a lot to me, really…" now it's your turn to be shy as you awkwardly twiddle your fingers, the weight of what you just did creeping up your own neck and filling your cheeks. it may have been a teeny bit overkill, but seeing medkit's reaction? beyond worth it.

in disbelief, like he thought he'd found himself in his fantasies, medkit mindlessly touches his forehead where you smooched him. remembering he's supposed to respond, he manages to stammer out, "of-of course, it was no prob-"

"what about me?? i so graciously showed meddy the way here, and i don't get anything!??" medkit's eye twitches and his dreamy daze breaks as subspace whines, throwing his hands in the air. but you don't mind as much, simply offering a kind smile. "i couldn't have gotten my pen back without your kindness, subspace. you're so sweet."

he still pouts, eyes squinted in fury.

you roll your eyes in a lighthearted manner. of course, he loves to push things to get the most out of them. "and a genius. and talented. and handsome. and the best in all of blackrock." with each compliment, you count it off with a finger.

yet despite your extra praises, subspace's face remains shriveled in envy. it's only after he allows a few suspenseful seconds to pass that he livens back up again, puffing his chest out with a satisfied grin. "that's right!! don't you dare forget it."

you snort, "well, if that's all, goodnight again you two. don't open my door again tonight unless there's a fire or something." once they nod in agreement to adhere to your demands, you bid them goodbye with a small wave. with a dull slam, the metal door shuts, leaving the two demons standing and staring at it like fools in the silent dormitory corridor.

after a brief moment, subspace leans over to medkit and whispers, "...you owe me."

medkit hisses back, "no i don't."

parade postscript: when i was younger in like elementary school my class went on a field trip downtown and i brought a pencil that i had won from a class raffle and this girl threw it on the metro tracks, so naturally i made a scene and cried and said it was a pencil my grandma who died from lung cancer (true) gave to me when she died (false), and our supervisors got mad at her and went onto the tracks to get it for me i was an evil ass fking child

[elleaitch22]

Love on Fire

Chapter 4: Second Chances

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: Sorry this is so short! This is the last filler before the plot picks up! I hope you love it!! xx Elle

Warnings: Fertility treatment, medical procedures

Word Count: 3.2k words

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

Paigey 💗🧑🏼‍🚒🔥❤️‍🔥: whatchu want for dinner?

Princess 💗👸🏽👩🏽‍🍳: Idk. Not burgers. Or pasta. Or Chinese.

Paigey 💗🧑🏼‍🚒🔥❤️‍🔥: chipotle? cava?

Princess 💗👸🏽👩🏽‍🍳: Idk.

Princess 💗👸🏽👩🏽‍🍳: You pick. Please

Paigey 💗🧑🏼‍🚒🔥❤️‍🔥: cava?

Princess 💗👸🏽👩🏽‍🍳: Wrong choice. Try again

Paigey 💗🧑🏼‍🚒🔥❤️‍🔥: LMAOOO. i'll be there w your bowl when i pick you up from the bakery

Paige chuckled and locked her phone, tossing it into her passenger seat before driving the rest of the way to the hospital. Azzi’s texts were always one of the highlights of her day, even the indecisive ones. Especially the indecisive ones. It meant she stilltrusted Paige to show up for her, to know what she needed.

Since she had a 24 hour on shift, 48 hour off shift schedule, Paige was a child safety consultant on her off days. She taught a couple two-day cohort every three days at one of the hospitals in Baltimore.

Her drive to the hospital was short, but her thoughts stretched the whole way there. She’d memorized the phases of fertility treatment just as much as she’d memorized the child safety textbook. She was always preparing for Azzi’s second round. She just couldn’t stand the thought of not being helpful.

In between her first and second classes, she found Dr. Nelson-Agoda, one of the OB-GYN’s at the hospital.

“Hey, Liv!” She smiled, walking up to the doctor.

The doctor looked up from the tablet and grinned, “My favorite firefighter! What’d you bring me today?”

Paige paused, rubbing the back of her neck. “Well, Azzi wasn’t feeling well, so I wasn’t able to bring to anything today. But tomorrow, I’ll bring two things.”

“Whatever,” Liv rolled her eyes. “What’s up, Bueckers?”

“So, one of my friends is trying to have a baby. She did IUI, but the first round didn’t work. She’s going to try again, but when do they normally succeed? Is there anything I can do to support her? When are we supposed to give up, or try something else?” She rambled. “I just wanna be prepared for whatever she needs. Support her, you know?”

“I didn’t know Azzi was trying for a baby!” Liv beamed.

Paige’s eyes widened in panic, “I didn’t say it was Azzi!” At the deadpan look on Olivia’s face, “I think I’ve had two conversations with you where you haven’t brought her up.”

“Okay, okay,” She conceded. “Well she hasn’t told me I could tell people, so act like you don’t know when she announces it.”

Liv pulled her into a tight hug, “You guys are going to have a baby!”

“Well not if it doesn’t work. Can you just answer my questions?” Paige groaned, hiding a smile.

“Well, if there’s no success by the sixth round of IUI, I’d think about taking a break for a month or two, then try IVF. But if she has a chemical pregnancy or a miscarriage before 12 weeks, I’d just do IVF.” She paused. “I don’t know when she should quit IVF though. Some people do it for years, some only do three or four cycles because it’s so taxing and expensive. If you guys want to go with someone different, let me know. I got a few connections.”

Paige’s fingers flew across her keyboard, putting everything in her Notes app.

Baby Making 🤰🏽

Day 3-7: 1 pill/day

Day 10-11: go get ultrasound

Day 12: pick up trigger shot. shot at 9pm

Day 14: insem. appt.

Day 15-28: 1 pill 2x/day

Day 28: test early morning

IUI/IVF

No baby by IUI 6  IVF. ½ MONTH BREAK FIRST!

Chem preg ? or miscarriage before 12 wk  IVF

IVF v expensive. Can take years **do research

“You got any ways I can – ” Paige started.

Olivia’s phone went off, “I have a laboring mom, Bueckers. I’ll see you later!” She called, running off towards her patient. “She’s lucky to have you, Paige.”

Paige didn’t respond. She just gave a small smile and left before her heart got too loud.

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

Back at the bakery, Azzi was barefoot in leggings and a cropped tank, wiping flour off her face with the back of her hand. Her curls were a frizzed halo around her head, and she looked beautiful.

She didn’t expect a knock.

She paused, hoping the person would go away.

Another knock sounded. Azzi grunted loudly and walked to the door, her face lighting up when she saw who was there.

“Hi, Katie!” She beamed. She swung the door open, quickly locking it back once it was shut.

Paige’s stepmom pulled the girl into a tight hug. “Hey, baby. Paige told me about the first round not taking. I just wanted to come by, see how you’re doing.”

Tears pricked the corners of Azzi’s eyes, “Yeah, she said a lot of people have to try for a while before they can have a baby.”

“Well, Bob and I tried for a year before I got pregnant with Drew.” She led them to Azzi’s office in the back, sitting on the teal couch.

Azzi nodded into her shoulder. They sat together on the couch, just breathing. “Thank you for coming to check on me, Katie B.”

“Of course, Azzi B. I’ll be here. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here. And you have Paige doing this with you.” Katie reminded.

The younger woman let out a laugh, leaning back. “Oh, I know you have thoughts about that.”

She laughed back, “Well, yeah! I’ve been telling you she loves you forever, Azzi. Maybe you’ll start to see what I’ve been seeing.” She paused, “I’m just happy you’re not doing this alone.”

“I haven’t been alone since they moved next door.” She giggled. “I’m scared though, that this is all going to make me love her more, if that’s even possible.”

Katie was quiet for a bit. “Trying to conceive is known to bring people closer together or rip people apart.”

Azzi swallowed, “So you think it’s going to ruin everything?”

“I wasn’t saying that. I just want you to be careful because it could ruin everything. But it could also be the best thing that happens to you both. You can’t let it drive you two apart.” She explained.

“I won’t let it,” She said, shaking her head. “She’s the most important person in my life.”

Before Katie could say anything else, the front door opened. “Here she comes now,” she smiled.

“Azzi!” A low voice shouted.

A lazy smile stretched across her lips, “I’m in the office! I have another batch of cupcakes to frost before we go home though!”

“Well, I’m gonna get out of your hair. Stop by this weekend, your parents are coming over for dinner on Saturday night.” Katie wrapped her in a tight hug.

The two walked out, Azzi stopping in the prep room, beaming when she sees her best friend.

“Hi Paige! Bye Paige.” Katie called, continuing to the front.

“See you Saturday.” Paige chuckled, following her to the front to lock the door.

Azzi filled the piping bags with six different frosting colors.

“Did you eat today?” Paige asked, unpacking her Chipotle bag.

The brunette thought through her day. “Um, we had those lemon blueberry scones and sausage this morning. But we have this huge wedding order, and Caroline has strep, so I’m still not done.”

A sigh was heard from across the room, “You gotta eat, Az. You know that. And I know you were busy, but if you know it’s going to be a bust day, just tell me. I’ll get something delivered.”

“You’re the best person I know, Paige Bueckers.” Azzi smiled softly. The blonde brought the bowl over to the table Azzi was working at. Azzi looked up from the cupcake she was decorating and was met with a spoonful of rice, corn, and chicken. “Are you just gonna sit here and feed me?” She giggled.

Paige gave her the Azzi smile. “You’re about to be growing a child. My job will be keeping you fed and happy.”

“You always take such good care of me, P. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Tears welled in big brown eyes.

“We take care of each other, always will.”  She whispered.

They spent the rest of the night talking about any and everything while Azzi finished decorating the cupcakes.

There was a calendar in the passenger seat. “What’s this,” she asked surprised.

“Oh! I made a calendar, so I can let Stewie know when I need to miss for appointments.” Paige replied, nonchalantly.

The entire way home, Azzi replayed her explanation in her head.

She cared enough to make sure she’d be available for every step.

God, I love her so much.

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

The vibes were immaculate in the Bueckers home.

Drew and Kamari were telling a story about what happened when they went out last weekend. Bob and Jon were talking about the new Avengers movie that came out a few weeks ago. Paige, Tim, and Jose were arguing about the best point guard in the league (Kyrie was the only valid answer in Paige’s opinion). Both Katies were talking about who they thought were going to win the conference finals.

Azzi brought out a tray with ramakins filled with personal apple pies.

Everyone dug into their dessert with fervor. Conversations halted, the room filled with sounds of spoons scraping ceramic. Everyone was eating, except for Azzi.

She cleared her throat, but it did nothing to help the lump in it. “So…I’ve been wanting to tell you all something.” She paused, looking at her parents. “I’m going to have a baby. I’m on my second round of IUI to have a baby.”

A beat of silence.

“You’re doing this…alone?” Tim questioned sternly.

Katie’s brows furrowed, “I’ve told you how hard it is. Raising a baby on your own.” Judgement seeped into her tone.

Azzi stiffened, hand wrapping around Paige’s hand tightly. The blonde squeezed back just as hard.

“I think it’s great, Azzi. You’re going to be a great mom.” Bob encouraged, trying to break the tension.

Azzi was tense as she spoke. “It’s something I’ve always wanted. And it’s not like I’m really alone.” She had a wobbly smile. “I have Paige. I have Bob and Katie. And Drew and Mari. And hopefully you guys too.”

“I just don’t want you to regret doing this without thinking it through.” Her mother replied.

Her dad sighed. “This just isn’t the right way to do things, Azzi. We had a plan.”

Bob interjected, “I did things the right way, and I still ended up raising Paige alone until Katie came into the picture. There’s no one right way to build a family.”

“I know that, Bob! I came into the picture. I saw how Katie struggled, and you can’t fault me for not wanting that for my daughter.” Tim exclaimed.

Katie Bueckers interjected, “It’s not like she didn’t think it through, Tim. She made a decision; don’t act like she’s being reckless.”

“We’re just trying to protect her,” Katie responded sharply.

“Why would we support her for making such a stupid choice?” Tim followed.

The room went silent. Tension peaking.

“You say you love her, but all you’re doing is making her feel ashamed. She’s stronger than anyone I know. She’s not doing this on a whim.” She started, tone firm. “She’s doing it with intention, with care, and with more grace than most people twice her age. She doesn’t need your approval. She just wanted your support.”

Azzi’s eyes were misty, breath shallow.

“If we wanted your input, we would’ve asked, Paige.” Katie said, sternly. “Azzi,” her voice softened. “We just want you to think this through. Come home with us tonight, and we can talk it all through.”

Paige stood quickly, hand still linked with Azzi. “Nah, we’re not doing this shit.” She spun and nodded to the door, “Let’s go, Az.”

Katie and Bob scrambled to follow them to the front door.

“I’m sorry that didn’t go as well as you hoped, Azzi.” Bob hugged her tightly.

“We’ll be here if you need anything,” Katie finished. “Let us know when you make it safely.”

They were ten minutes into the trip when Azzi spoke again. “Thank you, P.”

“Always.”

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

The next few days pass in a blur.

The four-tier wedding cake and six dozen cupcakes were transported to the massive wedding with no mistake.

Azzi continued to take her Letrozole every morning, and it was wrecking her.

She’d gone two days with a constant headache. She was eating four times a day, drinking a gallon of water, and sleeping seven hours every night. So it was definitely the medicine. And ibuprofen wasn’t helping.

And on day seven, she was having terrible heat flashes. Azzi hated being hot. Everyone, except a blonde firefighter, avoided her that day.

Even Paige was a little wary with her. Azzi’s mood swings were…something. She cried when Paige forgot her pita chips with her Cava order. She got angry with her when she dropped her off to the bakery five minutes later than normal. This that happened often set her off, but she was aware of it. She cried at least once a day apologizing to anyone she felt she was mean to.

One of Paige’s off days fell on a Sunday, which meant she was able to spend the entire day with Azzi.

Ice and KK hugged and thanked her when she walked it.

“She’s been mean all week. She even yelled at KK!” Ice whisper yelled.

The mentioned girl looked at Paige with a pout. “All I did was tell her we needed more raspberry filling for the cupcakes I was doing.”

Paige chuckled quietly, not wanting to set her best friend off, “Alright, alright. I’ll handle it.”

She walked back to the kitchen, continuing through to the prep room when she didn’t see a curly ponytail.

“Hi, Princess.” She smiled, eyes widening a bit when she saw the glare on her face. “What’s up, Az?”

Her face scrunched in frustration, “I forgot the baking soda in one of the muffin batters and now this fucking frosting is either too light or too dark, and I can’t start making this smash cake until the colors are perfect.” She huffed, “And now, I have you in my face asking me what’s wrong.”

Paige’s brows shot up at the last part of her rant, but before she could say anything, Azzi was speaking again.

“Wait, I’m sorry Paige. I didn’t mean that, I promise.” She said, eyes wet now.

The blonde came up behind the brunette. She felt the tension melt a bit when she wrapped her arms around her toned waist. “It’s okay,” She pecked the side of her head. “Why don’t we let Caroline dye the buttercream while you take a break.”

“I really need to finish this though.” She whined.

Paige smirked, “I brought ice cream.”

“CAROLINE!” Azzi shouted, “Please come dye this frosting. I can’t get it to the right color.” She dragged Paige to her office, not even waiting for her coworker to reply.

A pint of cookie dough was plopped on the coffee table in front of the couch, and Azzi got heart eyes instantly.

“You’re so good to me,” Her eyes were wet with tears again.

Paige couldn’t control her laughter this time, “You don’t have to cry, Az. I promised you I’d be here.”

“God, I didn’t have mood swings like this last month.” She smiled around the spoon. “Maybe that means it’ll work this time.”

The older woman set next to her on the sofa, “You’re doing an amazing job with all of this, Azzi. Just relax.” She pulled tanned legs onto her lap and massaged the soreness out of them. “I’m so proud of you.”

Paige’s fingers kneaded the soreness from her calves, but Azzi barely registered the relief over the heat that pooled in her chest every time Paige’s touch lingered just a second too long.

“No, I’m proud of you. You’ve been on Squad for three months now. How’s it been?” She murmured.

Paige knew Azzi was about to take a nap. Her words slurred a bit, so she decided to talk until the girl was finally resting.

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

The morning of the ultrasound, Paige was in a terrible mood. She was extremely sore due to debris falling on her back during a rescue call the day before. Her entire back felt like it was locked up and was covered in one big bruise. Because of the pain, she wasn’t able to sleep well at all. There was nothing that ruined her mood more than a night of shitty sleep.

She went to get a massive coffee before going to Azzi’s to pick her up.

The younger woman clocked the coffee before either of them could say anything. “Bad night?” She asked softly.

Paige sighed with a small smile – of course Azzi would notice that right away. “Yeah. There’s a big ass bruise on my back. Couldn’t get comfortable enough to stay sleep.”

“Poor baby,” Azzi pouted, rubbing the blonde’s arm. “I made you breakfast! Maybe that’ll cheer you up.”

She gave her best friend a plate with two cinnamon crunch bagels, four slices of bacon, and fruit salad.

“I’m not even gonna make you eat the fruit. And when we get back from the appointment, I’m gonna make you an ice bath.”

“I hate ice baths. You already know that.” Paige whined.

Azzi giggled, “Yeah, but you know it’s going to help with your pain, so we’re doing it.”

She moved around the kitchen, wiping everything down, just waiting for Paige to be ready to go.

Their trip to the clinic was quick. Azzi was a little nervous, but not too bad. She really wanted it to work this time, but she tried to keep Katie’s voice in the back of her mind. It could take months to get pregnant, and it didn’t mean anything about her or her body if it didn’t take this month.

Paige held her hand through the discomfort of the ultrasound.

“I’m seeing two mature follicles, and your lining looks very good.” Dr. Caldwell seemed impressed.

The blonde leaned over, kissing her best friend on the forehead. And Azzi released a deep sigh. There was a chance, a good chance this month.

As they walked to the car, all of Paige’s tension evaporated. “It looks like a good cycle, Az.” She was beaming.

“Let’s hope it’s good enough this time.” She whispered back.

Later that night, they were back in Azzi’s kitchen, this time for the trigger shot.

Paige kissed her abdomen before wiping the area with another cold wipe. She was so focused that she didn’t even notice Azzi’s thighs squeezing together a little.

She distracted Azzi with firehouse gossip about how Rickea was messing around with James from C shift. Flau and Ant printed pictures of him and covered the fridge with them.

“OW!” Azzi winced. The shot hurt more this time because she wasn’t preparing herself for the pain.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Paige muttered, planting another kiss on her belly. She said another prayer today. “God, please let this baby stick. Let Azzi be a mommy.”

Tanned hands ran through Paige’s head as she knelt in front of her. “When are you going to settle down, Paigey? You’re going to be the perfect wife. An amazing mom.”

In retrospect, she shouldn’t have said anything because the heated gaze she received in response sent warmth straight to her core.

“Yeah? You think so, Az?” Her voice was lower, raspier.

Azzi just nodded, breath caught in her throat.

Yeah, she was completely fucked.

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

The insemination came and went.

Azzi was silent during the procedure again, and just like before, Paige filled the silence with gentle words.

On the way home, Azzi finally spoke again. “I wish I could just know now. You know? I hate the waiting.”

“I wish I could just do it for you. I don’t like that I can’t help.” Paige replied.

Azzi grabbed the hand resting on the console. “You’re here, Paige. That’s more than enough.”

Azzi threw herself into work. She filled tons of end of summer and back to school cookie and cupcake orders. Paige brought lunch most days, reminding her that she needed to eat, so she could support a baby.

She waited for Paige to take the test this time.

The blonde sat on the bed, while Azzi washed her hands.

“You good in there?”

“Not really. I’m nervous.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

They sat shoulder to shoulder as they waited for the timer to expire, except no one moved when the timer went off.

“You want me to look?”

“Please.”

Paige stood slowly, hands shaking as she reached for the test. It was like it was all happening in slow motion. Azzi watched as the test turned over. Paige’s jaw clenched before her head dropped.

“I’m sorry.”

Azzi didn’t cry. Not at first. She just got up, walked to the living room, and sat in front of the tv.

She didn’t let Paige see the breakdown. She didn’t let her see her cry during season seven of Grey’s Anatomy. Cry through Derek and Meredith’s struggles with getting pregnant.

Until two nights later. The bakery had been closed for four hours, but Azzi was still in the back prepping dough for the next morning.

“Azzi?” Paige called out, but Azzi didn’t hear her. “I’ve been waiting at the house for two hours. What are you still doing here?”

She couldn’t hear her. Couldn’t give an answer. She just hunched over the counter, tears falling into the dough she was kneading.

Brown eyes shot up, wide and scared, when Paige finally touched her.

“What are you doing here?” Azzi asked, breathless.

Brown brows furrowed. “You weren’t home. It’s nine, Azzi. I got worried.” She pulled her best friend into her arms.

And she finally broke.

Heart wrenching sobs flowed from her mouth like a river.

“I just,” She wept. “I thought it was gonna work this time. Everything looked so good.” She said between gasps. “It’s so hard, Paige.”

Tears welled in blue eyes. “I know, Azzi. But you’re doing so good. You’re doing everything to get your baby. And I promise you; you’re going to get that baby. And when you do, you’ll see that it was all worth it.”

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

And Paige was right.

Because the next cycle, Azzi’s hands shook as she held a pregnancy test.

Two lines.

She did it.

She was going to have a baby.

[monster-effer]

Baldur’s Gate 3 Player x LaDS headcanons 🎮

Summary: My headcanons on how the LaDS men act in a BG3 campaign with the you, the reader. Content: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Sylus x reader, Rafayel x reader, Caleb x reader (separate), very silly, Caleb and Rafayel being chaotic, gn!reader, no reader pronouns mentioned, multiple and major Baldur’s Gate 3 spoilers throughout (1.1k wc) A/N: A brainworm or mind flayer parasite entered my head at 4 pm on Saturday and has not left since. This is for my fellow DnD, BG3 and LaDS lovers!

Xavier – you never made it out of Act 3 because he couldn’t help but fall asleep to the OST and white noise once you reached Baldur’s Gate

Set-up: console, couch co-op Difficulty: Balanced, he wanted a little challenge but was ultimately here to chill with you Race: Half-elf Class: Paladin or Cleric of Light Time in Character Creator: 1 hour, he liked reading through all the origin character descriptions but decided to build a custom character instead. Then read over all the different race and subrace options.

He really enjoyed looking around the Nautiloid ship in the opening act.

He tried to read every book and note he came across in the game for the lore.

Xavier served as your guard dog throughout the campaign, especially if you played as a magic user.

He got jealous at the flirty lines the companions threw your way.

“Xav, these are not real people they are pixels.”

“…so, do you like me or Halsin more? You haven't answered me yet.”

And he almost had a heart attack when Harleep offered themself to you in the House of Hope.

He really enjoyed Wyll’s company and made sure to reserve a space for him in your party.

Regularly got lost despite the in game mini map.

When Jeremiah asked to join your campaign, Xavier told him “No.”

Zayne – you made it to the end of Act 3, but it took months and months due to your busy and conflicting work schedules

Set-up: console, couch co-op Difficulty: Balanced Race: Human Class: Wizard who favored frost damage Time in Character Creator: 30 minutes, he made the most basic custom character and spent the majority of his time choosing a class

Zayne was mainly interested in completing the main quests in the beginning. But he changed his mind after completing the quest to save Mayrina from Auntie Ethel.

He was in a passionate bromance with Gale and developed a personal vendetta against Mystra because of it.

He desperately wanted to befriend Gale’s cat, Tara.

“Tara is lovely, please tell me I can have her as a companion.”

“I’m afraid you cannot, unless you’re playing as Gale.”

His anguish was loud in the silence after.

He also became a big Shar hater after progressing through Shadowheart’s personal quests.

He was NOT a fan of Astarion. But, after learning about his past then destroying Cazador together he begrudgingly tolerated him in the party.

Zayne was flabbergasted – to say the least –  when he met Malus Thorm in the House of Healing. After you walked in on this “doctor” mutilating an innocent patient in his care, the frost wizard showed no mercy.

He silently judged Volo for his “scientific research,” especially after you agreed to his offered eye surgery.

Zayne usually does not care much about fashion over utility when it comes to armor, but you noticed he did not take off the Wavemother robe once you obtained it as a quest reward.

Sylus – you made it to the end of Act 3

Set-up: PC, usually online multiplayer but couch co-op when you visit his base Difficulty: Tactician (specifically for enhanced enemy tactics and increased long rest supply threshold because Sylus is a loot hoarder) Race: Dragonborn OR the hottest Seldarine Drow you’ve ever seen Class: Barbarian fighter multiclass who can attack 4 times a turn Time in Character Creator: 45 minutes

Your playthrough started out with just you and Sylus. But you created a separate save for when Luke and Kieran wanted to play as a full customized character crew.

Sylus REFUSED to cheese fights with you, instead he preferred to strategize heavily like y’all were going to war.

“We are clever enough to win without the help of bugs sweetie.”

Sylus initially liked Raphael because they both enjoyed making a good deal.

But he changed his mind when he witnessed the chess game scene in Last Light Inn.

You two somehow breezed through saving all the prisoners, Duke Ravengard and Omeluum from the Iron Throne.

He had a soft spot for Karlach but who didn’t?

If Sylus chose to play as the Dark Urge, he immersed himself in a redemption arc because he was all too familiar with resisting strong urges.

He wanted to adopt Mol and her band of misfits so bad.

Rafayel – you’re currently in Act 3

Set-up: PC, online multiplayer Difficulty: Explorer – you’re both here to have a good time, not struggle 🤷🏾‍♀️ Race: The prettiest elf/half elf OR tiefling you have ever seen Class: Rogue assassin that dual wields daggers OR Bard that uses Vicious Mockery often Time in Character Creator: 1 hour, he chose race based on aesthetics but got trapped by the customization options

His character has a crazy amount of charisma points and could persuade their way through any encounter.

He gleefully chooses the sassy/deep cutting dialogue options.

Consequently, you two end up in plenty of unnecessary fights but it is chaotic and fun.

Rafayel was downright frightening on the battlefield once he tried out multiclassing. IMO he would love the Gloomstalker Ranger + Assassin Rogue build.

He was fond of the Underdark section in Act 1. So much so that he produced a few paintings depicting the sussur tree and members of the Myconid colony.

He got the both of you obliterated by Vlaakith when he questioned the legitimacy of their alleged godhood in the githyanki creche.

As you both sat in silence staring at the “game over” screen he chuckled then whispered, “No regrets cutie.”

He was enamored by Orin’s outfit. So, you immediately stopped playing to find an armor mod to download.

Caleb – you’ve completed 3 campaigns together

Set-up: PC, switch between couch co-op and online multiplayer Difficulty: Honor Mode (rip) Race: Half-orc or Dragonborn because he thinks they look sick™ Class: modded gunslinger class that dual wields firearms🔫 Time in Character Creator: 20 minutes, you’re both veterans at this

He is the most chaotic force in the game outside of the netherbrain and Orin’s shenanigans.

Caleb ALWAYS saves Scratch and the owl bear cub just to watch their camp interactions. He also summons Scratch to come along with y’all on your quests throughout Faerûn.

Without fail he roasts Gortash every time he is introduced.

“Are we sure that he is the ‘handsome’ younger man everyone has been describing because…”

Caleb unironically loves Lae’zel and relishes exposing her to the truth about Vlaakith.

He volunteered to turn into an illithid this playthrough.

Caleb has memorized various strategies to get through the Gauntlet of Shar while you’re still fighting for your life during the Faith Step Trial.

Gideon along with the legion of Caleb’s friends have begged for an invite, but he always finds a way to keep it as an activity for just you two ♥︎

A/N: Also feel free to leave your takes on which race/class/mods each LI would choose in BG3 or any RPG!!! I want to nerd out in my comments/DMs ♡

[rebeccathenaturalist]

ETA: I wrote up a guide on clues that a foraging book was written by AI here!

[Original Tweet source here.]

[RANT AHEAD]

Okay, yeah. This is a very, very, very bad idea. I understand that there is a certain flavor of techbro who has ABSOLUTELY zero problem with this because "AI is the future, bro", and we're supposed to be reading their articles on how to use AI for side hustles and all that.

I get that ID apps have played into people's tendency to want quick and easy answers to everything (I'm not totally opposed to apps, but please read about how an app does not a Master Naturalist make.) But nature identification is serious stuff, ESPECIALLY when you are trying to identify whether something is safe to eat, handle, etc. You have to be absolutely, completely, 100000% sure of your ID, and then you ALSO have to absolutely verify that it is safely handled and consumed by humans.

As a foraging instructor, I cannot emphasize this enough. My classes, which are intended for a general audience, are very heavy on identification skills for this very reason. I have had (a small subsection of) students complain that I wasn't just spending 2-3 hours listing off bunches of edible plants and fungi, and honestly? They can complain all they want. I am doing MY due diligence to make very sure that the people who take my classes are prepared to go out and start identifying species and then figure out their edibility or lack thereof.

Because it isn't enough to be able to say "Oh, that's a dandelion, and I think this might be an oyster mushroom." It's also not enough to say "Well, such-and-such app says this is Queen Anne's lace and not poison hemlock." You HAVE to have incredibly keen observational skills. You HAVE to be patient enough to take thorough observations and run them through multiple forms of verification (field guides, websites, apps, other foragers/naturalists) to make sure you have a rock-solid identification. And then you ALSO have to be willing to read through multiple sources (NOT just Wikipedia) to determine whether that species is safely consumed by humans, and if so if it needs to be prepared in a particular way or if there are inedible/toxic parts that need to be removed.

AND--this phenomenon of AI-generated crapola emphasizes the fact that in addition to all of the above, you HAVE to have critical thinking skills when it comes to assessing your sources. Just because something is printed on a page doesn't mean it's true. You need to look at the quality of the information being presented. You need to look at the author's sources. You need to compare what this person is saying to other books and resources out there, and make sure there's a consensus.

You also need to look at the author themselves and make absolutely sure they are a real person. Find their website. Find their bio. Find their social media. Find any other manners in which they interact with the world, ESPECIALLY outside of the internet. Contact them. Ask questions. Don't be a jerk about it, because we're just people, but do at least make sure that a book you're interested in buying is by a real person. I guarantee you those of us who are serious about teaching this stuff and who are internet-savvy are going to make it very easy to find who we are (within reason), what we're doing, and why.

Because the OP in that Tweet is absolutely right--people are going to get seriously ill or dead if they try using AI-generated field guides. We have such a wealth of information, both on paper/pixels and in the brains of active, experienced foragers, that we can easily learn from the mistakes of people in the past who got poisoned, and avoid their fate. But it does mean that you MUST have the will and ability to be impeccably thorough in your research--and when in doubt, throw it out.

My inbox is always open. I'm easier caught via email than here, but I will answer. You can always ask me stuff about foraging, about nature identification, etc. And if there's a foraging instructor/author/etc. with a website, chances are they're also going to be more than willing to answer questions. I am happy to direct you to online groups on Facebook and elsewhere where you have a whole slew of people to compare notes with. I want people's foraging to be SAFE and FUN. And AI-generated books aren't the way to make that happen.