#anyway those emails are sent and hopefully those professors will at least smile and enjoy reading the email even if they don't reply

[the-music-keeper]

Objective #18 is done! Man, I'm being an adulty adult today -- if I didn't already have plans for the afternoon I might even try to be the adultiest adult and do my laundry.

Actually, you know what, catching up with friends IS an adult thing. I'm the adultiest adult.

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Daring - Chapter 2

This is part two of my Abby Mordern!Au, you can read Chapter 1 here.

Masterlist

Abby and the reader have dinner at Abby's place. There is music playing and referenced, so I'd recommend you listen to this playlist with all the songs playing in order as soon as the date night begins. About 10k words.

CW for alcohol consumption, mention of death/murder, mention of dubious consent (and possibly terrible grammar. It's 10pm, I just finished this, I don't have a proofreader atm)

Thyme and Tree Bark

“Don’t mess this up, airhead. Take care!”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, idiot!”

You closed the door behind Mark as he vanished down the stairs and headed straight for your bed. Though you were less wobbly on your feet after devouring half of a perfectly cheesy pizza with just the right amount of jalapenos, it had thrown you straight into a food coma. Your angel of a brother had come over at noon with two chilled cans of coke and a large pizza from your favorite Italian place and not even ripped open the curtains as he usually did. Instead, he had thrown himself on the bed right next to you, handed you a slice, and demanded you start talking.

Of course, he already knew about Abby and your embarrassing shyness when it came to the buff blonde, so he was extremely proud of the progress you had made with your excruciating crush. You both agreed that Abby had definitely invited you over for a date this week - alone, without Manny there - and that it had to mean she was interested, too. He had laughed about the little bar stint when Abby had shut down your flirt with the hot waitress in an instant and was now 100% sure this was going to go great. As long as you kept it together and didn’t ruin everything. As you often did. This needed some tactical planning.

Mouths full of cheesy delight and laughing at each other’s stupid ideas, you and your brother had come up with a fairly foolproof plan. You would text Abby in 1-2 days, keeping it cool and asking when you should come over. Then, you would suggest making cocktails at home, already granting a fun activity and something to loosen the mood. You would keep it casual and bring over some nice liquor and maybe a bag of chips, perfect for watching a movie. You’d try to keep the conversation casual and try to speak mostly about Abby, asking lots of questions so you didn’t get tangled up in speaking about yourself. If you steered the conversation toward movies, you could watch something exciting and maybe even scary together so you could cuddle up on the couch together. And well, if you got that far, things would probably fall into place naturally. Foolproof. Y/N-proof.

You groaned as you reached over to grab your phone from your nightstand. You had a message from your mom asking if you wanted to come over for dinner next weekend and an email from your professor who wanted to submit your last essay to some kind of grant application. You’d have to answer her later, your head still felt like it was filled with cotton. Instead, you sent Leah a message.

-Hey, you still alive? There’s leftover pizza and coke over here.

Five seconds later, there was a delighted squeal at the other side of the wall and you heard the click of your roommate’s door before yours opened and Leah tiptoe-danced inside, beaming at you. She was wearing nothing but an extremely tight-fitting cropped wifebeater and a khaki thong, accentuating her long legs as she leaped right onto your bed and almost made you fly as her weight hit the mattress. You tried not to stare at her perfectly toned abs as she opened the gigantic carton and held up a slice of pizza over her head, letting the tip dangle in her mouth before biting down with a moan that made you snort awkwardly.

“Good morning, you animal.”

Leah just moaned again, making a grabbing motion with her hand and pointing toward the second can of coke on your nightstand. You laughed silently as you handed her the cold can, condensed water running down the sides and wetting your fingers. You wiped them on the blanket. The tall brunette swallowed hard and took a sip of coke.

“Good morning, womanizer.” She grinned widely. “I’m so proud of you, man. This is the first time I’ve seen you in action and I can safely say Abby was just as surprised as I was.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Oh god, was I that obvious? Did I do anything inappropriate? I thought it went well, but now I’m not so sure.” You spread your fingers to peak at your roommate who was currently chewing on a ginormous bite, tomato juice running down her chin. No manners, that girl. She just shook her head and made a noise somewhere between protest and encouragement.

“No, you were fine,” she said with a full mouth, “very tipsy, but cute. I hope you remember Abby inviting you to her place.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

You ran your fingers through your hair, immediately getting stuck in a tangle of knots. God, you needed a shower.

“Yeah, I already went over it with Mark. We made a plan so I won’t embarrass myself.”

“Good. I hope it goes well, you two would be cute together. Hot, even. I mean, no one can deny the allure of those biceps. And her ass?! Godly.” She easily evaded the kick you aimed at her ribs, laughing and slapping your shin away.

“Come on, let’s not act like you’re not ogling her every chance you get. I am, too - the woman looks like a greek goddess!”

“That’s enough,” you giggled, aiming another playful kick in her direction but only lightly hitting her in the thigh. “I know what she looks like.”

“Right. And soon, you’ll hopefully see a lot more of her.” This time, Leah jumped off the bed before your toes could sink right into her side. You tried to suppress a grin as you two stared at each other for a moment before Leah sat back down cross-legged and began eating the last slice of pizza.

“I mean,” she said casually, “you have seen more of a woman before, right?”

You grabbed your coke and turned it in your hands before answering.

“Yeah, I have. It wasn’t… It wasn’t all that, though. Just one time and we were both so nervous it was just awkward.”

Now Leah looked at you with a mixture of shock and pity.

“Come on, Y/N. Only once? You’ve never seen stars because of a woman’s tongue? Never screamed into a pillow because of some skilled sapphic strap game? Never lost your mi-”

“Leaahhhh!” You groaned, feeling blood shoot into your cheeks. “No, okay? I… I made the other girl cum, but for me, it was just… it was too unfamiliar and I didn’t know her well enough to really let myself enjoy it.”

Suddenly a thought crossed your mind and you felt your eyes open wide.

“Wait. Has Abby…? Is she..?”

Leah paused mid-bite and thought for a second.

“Well, she does have experience with men, obviously. As far as women go… I honestly don’t know. She’s dated a few, but it never went longer than a couple of weeks. I don’t know how fast things go with her and she’s never gone into detail with me. I have to ask Nora about that.”

“Don’t you dare! She’ll know this is about me and tell Abby!”

“Oh come on, I’m interested, too.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you so you know what to prepare for, win-win!” She nudged your foot and gave you a mischievous half-smile.

“For god’s sake, do what you must.” You finished your coke and threw it perfectly into the bin beside your desk. Leah gave you an impressed nod. “And now I desperately need a shower. There is a literal nest on top of my head.”

“True,” Leah said and stood up, stretching her limbs as she walked to the door. “Thanks for the pizza. I’m gonna ask Jordan if he wants to come over, so don’t walk out naked if you don’t want a threesome.” She winked at you before closing the door, but a small part at the back of your brain knew that she wasn’t completely joking. You sighed and swung your legs off your bed. No point in lying around, it was past 3 pm anyway.

Grabbing your phone, a shirt, and some clean boxers, you headed for the bathroom. You took your time showering, detangling the mess on your head with lots of conditioner, humming along to Marika Hackman’s cover of I Follow Rivers as you stood under the hot stream of water and brushing your teeth for at least five minutes while waiting for a hair mask to do its magic. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was filled with hot steam and you felt like a whole new person. You slipped into your fresh clothes and held the blow dryer to the mirror until your reflection was clear.

So. Here you were. Finally, you had spoken to the woman of your dreams and even flirted with her. She may have even been jealous of your short conversation with Ellie, the bartender. Tomorrow, you would text her, you would be brave and cool and not at all awkward. As you collected your clothes off the floor and took your phone, you suddenly realized something that would destroy your entire plan. You didn’t even have Abby’s phone number. Why hadn’t you asked her? Of course, you could ask Leah for it, but Abby would know because she knew she hadn’t given it to you. It would be a lot less cool and casual. Fuck.

You stepped into the hallway and ran straight into Jordan. Perfect. Good thing Leah had warned you.

“Oh, hi Y/N! You doing alright after all those tequila shots?” Jordan’s face was open and kind. You immediately relaxed. Just a guy, not a threat.

“Better than I thought I would, actually. What about you?”

“Well, I sent them back out the way they came as soon as I got home.” He grimaced and shrugged. “Just glad I’m still alive, to be honest.”

You had to laugh. “I’m glad, too. Leah would have been devastated.”

“I hope so.” He grinned back. The silence between you stretched a little bit too long.

“Anyways, I’m gonna see what she’s up to. See you later?”

“Yeah, sure!” You said, relieved that he didn’t make it awkward. You quickly slipped into your room and sank down on the bed, composing a text to Mark.

-Minor hiccup - I don’t have her number.

His reply came immediately.

-Shit. What now?

You let yourself fall back on the mattress and covered your face with your arm. Your phone vibrated again and you lifted it up, hoping for a brilliant idea.

-Hey, this is Abby. Are we still on for next week?

You almost dropped your phone on your face. For a minute, you just stared at the message. Then you rolled over onto your stomach and screamed into your pillow.

-Hi Abby. We absolutely are. Y/N.

You tried to suppress a fit of giggles as you texted your brother.

-Nvm, she just texted me.

-Omg what!! Play it cool, don’t answer yet. What did she say???

-Oops already answered. Still on for next week.

-Incredibly casual lol. Whatever, good for you!

-Shut up!

Another text by Abby came in and you actually started drumming your feet on the bed with excitement.

-Tuesday? I could cook for us

-Very impressive, I’ll bite. What time should I come over?

-Very clever. 6pm? Any allergies?

-Vegetarian, hope that’s okay. 6 is great, text me your address?

You watched the little text bubble pop up and vanish again for a good minute, getting more and more nervous for her answer.

- No problem. 2425 Constance.

There was nothing else to do but scream into your pillow again.

-

The next two days went excruciatingly slow. You spent the rest of your Sunday in bed, watching a terrible zombie movie and later ordering curry because you couldn’t be bothered with preparing any food. As it got late, you suddenly heard a knock on the wall. At first, you thought it was accidental, until the knocking started to continue in a steady rhythm. With a death glare that you hoped would reach through the concrete, you plugged your headphones into your laptop and continued watching your movie.

On Monday, you threw yourself into art history coursework and caught up on your studies, emailed your professor, and spent three hours on an essay about the depiction of blood in paintings of Judith beheading Holofernes. Lovely subject. Even though you got through a lot of your tasks for the day, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at your phone every 10 minutes to see if you had missed a message. Of course, nothing came up. Around 4 pm, your phone buzzed and you leapt for it only to find out it was Leah asking you to buy toilet paper later. At 6pm, you shut off your laptop and grabbed your backpack to go grocery shopping.

Standing in the liquor store you realized you hadn’t asked Abby about cocktails.

“Looking for something in particular?” the elderly lady behind the counter asked. It seemed to be her own shop and to have been hers for a while, judging by the elegant wooden shelves and the warm, nice feeling of the room instead of neon lights and rows of white metal.

“Uh, yeah, actually. I have a date tomorrow and I thought we could make cocktails, but I forgot to ask what she likes. So now I don’t know what to bring.” You gave her an apologetic half smile. She stood up from her seat behind the register, growing not even 2 inches standing compared to sitting and made her way over to you. Her eyes twinkled behind thick glasses that made her look a little bit like an owl.

“Well, dear. I don’t know if I would go straight into the hard liquor on a first date. On my last first date, we had a delicious red wine, a Merlot. Couldn’t that be something? Are you going to eat anything?”

“Oh yes, she said she’d cook for us, but I don’t know what exactly.”

The shop owner gently put a hand on your arm and guided you to a shelf of dark bottles.

“Well, Merlot goes well with any food, so I think it would be perfect. Cocktails come later, when you dress up and go out together or after a night of theater.” You felt a surge of warmth spread through your chest. Theater? Well, why not? For a second, you began to trail off, imagining Abby in a perfectly tailored suit, you at her arm just as dressed up, every head turning as you entered the room and ordered Gin Tonics at the bar during the break. The voice next to you pulled you back to the present.

“If you’re cooking at home, wine is the thing to bring, trust me.”

“I trust you,” you said with a smile as you took the bottle she handed you. The label was a creamy white, with beautiful golden letters. Hopefully this wouldn’t bankrupt you. “Thank you for your help.”

The shopkeeper sat back down in her chair with a sigh and typed into the cash register. 15.99$. That wasn’t so bad. You paid and gently put the bottle inside your backpack.

“You know, you should come by soon and let me know how it went. I think that Merlot will bring you good luck. My wife and I still have it every Sunday.” Your head snapped up and your eyes met that charming, smart twinkle again, flashing at you out of dark brown irises. For a moment, all of the things you wanted to say were stuck in your throat, then you just broke into a smile.

“That’s wonderful, ma’am. I hope I can have that, in the future.”

“Of course you will, dear.” She really sounded like she meant it. A small lump suddenly appeared in your throat.

“Thank you so much. I wish you all the best.”

“Go get her!”

You laughed and waved at her again as you exited the shop, taking the warmth and comfort of it with you and tucking it right beneath the bottom of your heart and the top of your stomach where you knew it would fuel you for a few days. You had already decided that you would come back and make it your mission to befriend that old lady. What a wonderful woman.

Only 23 hours to go. That night, it was almost impossible to fall asleep.

-

You got through the next day by once again banning any thought of the evening from your mind and diving head first into your assignments. You were going to lead a discussion on different planes of language or communications in women’s art and literature and reading up on the historical differences between male and female narratives, beginning with the ancient poet Sappho. It was an exciting topic, something you were extremely thankful for. Otherwise you might have been looking at your phone every 3 minutes instead of every 20. Of course, no message from Abby.

The bottle of wine was standing on your nightstand, reminding you of your plans with an exciting tingle in your stomach. At 4pm, you gave up on doing anything productive. You spent forever in the shower, stealing some of Leah’s expensive pink body scrub, shaving everywhere and regretting it immediately because you felt stupid for assuming anything, entertaining the but what if thoughts while you thoroughly lathered your entire body in Leah’s shampoo and shower gel and spending a good 10 minutes just standing under the hot water because you weren’t ready to leave that fantasy yet. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was an actual steam bath and you could hardly see the door through the thick waves of wonderfully scented fog. You took your time stealing some more of Leah’s skincare products, having come to the conclusion that if she noticed anything and scolded you for it, you might as well try out the whole arsenal.

When you finally opened your closet door, feeling luxurious and clean and fresh, it was 5.10pm. What the hell were you going to wear? You and Mark had agreed on casual, but what the hell did that even mean? You decided to ask him.

-Help!!! Freaking out over my outfit, need a definition for casual

-Jeans and T-Shirt, just your standard outfit. Imagine meeting me for sushi.

-I’m bringing red wine. It seems wrong to bring wine in jeans and a t-shirt..

-What happened to cocktails?? Trust me, keep it simple. You don’t wanna turn up in a dress and she opens the door in sweatpants.

-I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in sweatpants. Ughh fuck I don’t have time for this. Jeans and t-shirt it is. Lesbian grandma recommended wine, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow x

-Go get her x

You quickly slipped into some black jeans that were just the right amount of tightly fitting around your ass and a white shirt with a tiny pomegranate embroidered on the front. Then you put on your jacket and quickly threw your wallet, phone and keys into a tote before grabbing the wine and putting it in as well. With a last look into the hallway mirror and a yelled goodbye to Leah, you rushed out of your apartment.

The evening air was not as cool as you had expected and the sun was just about to set. On your way to the train station, you typed out an on my way! message to Abby and quickly deleted it again. No sense in sending it now when you hadn’t spoken since Sunday and were about to see her. The train ride was annoying, the wagon stuffed with commuters and some guy trying to convince you the apocalypse was upon you all. Zombies, not the last judgement - something different at least.

During the walk from the station to Abby’s house, you were sure it wouldn’t take much more for you to actually start levitating. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your throat was so cramped up it was hard to breathe. When you pulled out your phone, your fingers were actually shaking. Jesus Christ, get a grip. 5.58 pm.

And there it was, 2425 Constance. Just a normal suburban white house, like any other in the street. It actually seemed a bit weird, Manny and Abby living here in the midst of what seemed to be a family neighborhood with real adults . Then again, they both weren’t in college, so you supposed they actually were real adults. When you walked up to the front door, you could hear faint music from inside - jazz? You wouldn’t have guessed she was the jazz type, but then again you knew almost nothing about her. Right. Ask questions, keep the conversation about her. Be cool.

You knocked.

Abby opened the door, a wave of warm air hitting you from inside. It smelled delightful. Her face was slightly flushed, her lips parted as she took in a deep breath. She had tied her hair back in a low bun, but a few strands had fallen out and framed her face. One was standing up in a funny angle.

“Hi, Abby,” you said, trying to keep your voice level and not stare at her body. Fuck, she had dressed up. And she looked hot.

“Hi!” A smile slowly grew wide on her face. When she realized that she was blocking the door, she quickly shook her head and stepped aside. “Come in! Can I take your jacket?”

Oh God, this was hopeless. You already knew you were hers. Thanking her, you took off your jacket and she hung it in a closet next to the entrance. When she turned around, you got a chance to admire her fully. She wore wide dress pants that perfectly accentuated all of her muscles, topped with a loose white shirt with wide sleeves, reminding you a little bit of a pirate. Her jewelry rounded off the pirate look and you had to bite back a grin. She raised her eyebrows at you.

“What?” Her cheeks were still slightly red, but you attributed it to standing in a hot kitchen for probably the last hour, judging by the variety of smells overlapping and mixing together, already making your mouth water.

“Uh, I brought wine,” you said and held out the bottle. Eloquent as always. Abby took it and whistled through her teeth as she inspected the label.

“That looks classic. The sauce I made has some wine in it as well, this is perfect. Thank you, what a great idea!”

You were overwhelmed with her generous praise and didn’t know where to look, so you settled on her hands. You had always sneaked looks at her hands, at the way she held a glass or drummed on a table or clasped them when she was intently listening to someone. They looked strong and rough from work, but there was also a delicacy in their movement and you were sure her touch could be as gentle as the brush of a hummingbird flying past. Realizing you were staring, you tore your gaze away.

“It smells delicious in here, I can’t wait to see what you cooked.” You followed her into the kitchen, where she placed the bottle on the counter and took a corkscrew from a drawer. A big red pot was standing on the gas stove over a tiny flame, the lid still hiding its contents. Your stomach suddenly growled loudly into the silence.

“Someone’s hungry.” Abby gave you a side glance and an amused smirk as she screwed the silver device into the cork. “Everything’s already set, we can get started right away.”

You covered your eyes with your hand for a second before laughing.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot to have lunch earlier and then I figured I’d just wait so I could really savour this.”

“Smart thinking. I made patates au vin , a vegetarian version of coq au vin which is chicken in wine. It’s basically potatoes and vegetables in a thick brown sauce, served with some good rustic bread.” You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back at the thought of getting to eat home cooked french cuisine made by Abby in a few minutes.

“Oh my God, say that again.” You could barely stop yourself from moaning. Abby laughed and opened the wine with a loud pop.

“Here, take this over to the dinner table. I’m right behind you.” You took the bottle and followed her nod into the dining room. The wooden table was beautifully set with big and small plates, glasses for water and wine, candles, two blue glass bottles of water and a bowl of salad topped with what looked like apples, pomegranate seeds and feta cheese. You carefully placed the bottle of wine next to the water bottles and stepped aside for Abby, who came out of the kitchen carrying the heavy pot and placed it on a cork coaster in the middle of the table.

“Wait, let me just…” she trailed off as she grabbed her phone from the sideboard and changed the music. A saxophone led a jazz band into the song before a beautiful female voice set in, soft as butter and filling the room like the smell of roses. The voice was familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. As Abby sat down, the music came to a crescendo before breaking off, the voice setting in again with a soft

is it a crime?

“Who sings this?” you asked as Abby opened the water bottle and filled your glasses.

“Oh, it’s Sade. She was my dad’s favorite.”

And I want you to want me too, the woman sang, and your eyes met over the table. You swallowed. Was? Not the right time.

“Sade? Oh, she sings Smooth Operator, right? I know that one, but I never checked out more of her music.”

Abby smiled at you and opened the lid of the pot.

“Yeah. This is the Promise album, my favorite. She is a force.”

A wave of steam erupted from the pot and you bent forward to look inside. Thick, roasted wedges of yellow potatoes lay in a bed of orange and purple carrots, mushrooms and tomatoes in a thick brown sauce, a stalk of thyme on top and a bay leaf poking out from the sauce. You weren’t sure if you were drooling, but you didn’t care.

“Abby, oh my God! This is fantastic.”

A spark had lit in her eyes when she heard you say her name. She elegantly stood up again, grabbed a serving spoon, and held out her hand for your plate. You watched her hands again as she plated an array of vegetables for you and used the spoon to draw a little sauce heart on the rim of the plate. Your ribs felt two sizes too small around your chest. This woman was actually going to be the death of you.

“Thanks,” you quietly said and waited as Abby helped herself to a plate. She sat down and gestured toward the small basket with thick slices of grey bread with a dark brown crust.

“Help yourself. Bon appétit.”

After a few moments of eating in comfortable silence before you showered the blonde in an array of compliments, this time not able to refrain from moaning when you bit into a tender, sweet purple carrot, the conversation began to flow. Abby complimented the wine, you talked about your studies, Abby told a few work stories in which both she and Nora were involved, you told her about your close relationship with your brother and she bittersweetly reminisced about her upbringing as an only child with a single dad. It had just been the two of them, moving frequently because of his changing jobs in different hospitals. He had been a neurosurgeon, and a brilliant one at that, but always humble and ready to help wherever he could. Abby sat up straighter when she talked about him, her chest actually swelling with pride when she told you about one time they had rescued an injured horse that had run away and been hit by a car in front of them.

“I think I was 16 back then. It’s one of my favorite memories of him. It actually wasn’t long before…” Her eyebrows moved into a frown and she bit her lip, pushing a small piece of onion around her plate. Fuck, maybe it would have been easier to talk about you, after all.

“We don’t have to talk about it. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

She looked up and you expected to see tears, but her eyes were full of love and her face smoothed out into a gentle smile.

“No, it’s okay. I’m still working on it, and part of my therapy is telling people who don’t know yet. You know, I don’t really have a lot of friends.” She suddenly laughed, easing the tension at the bottom of your lungs. “That sounds stupid, of course I do. I have Manny and Nora and Leah and Jordan and Owen, I guess. But the thing is, they all knew me before. I haven’t really made friends ever since my dad.. passed away. The idea of needing to open up to someone about all this so I can develop a real connection and friendship with them is just a lot to bear.”

“The mortifying ordeal of being known,” you mumbled, more to yourself, crumpling up your napkin in one hand.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, it’s this quote from a New York Times article that has been floating around the internet for a while. ‘If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known’.” You looked up at her and inhaled deeply. “It’s something I’m also terrified of. Although it seems kind of stupid sometimes, because compared to you for example, I don’t really have a good reason.”

Abby looks at you like she’s just discovered something extremely interesting. She takes a sip of her wine before answering, her silver rings blinking at you in the candlelight.

“It’s not at all stupid. I’ve always been very careful with who I open up to, even before my dad died. It’s horrifying, laying yourself bare for a person, putting yourself on a silver plate and handing it to them and saying there, now do with it what you wish. Maybe they’ll look at it and say no, thanks. Maybe they’ll call everyone and say hey, look at this mad woman with her twisted insides, isn’t that funny? Maybe they’ll see it and think, I can do this, and then after a few years they suddenly realize they actually can’t and you’re way too much and so they leave for someone with a more simple, prettier silver plate. Maybe they’ll even take a few pieces with them as they go.”

She didn’t sound bitter as she said it, and she didn’t look terribly sad either, more as if she was making an observation about something she was mildly interested in. You didn’t know what to say except for show me your silver plate, please show me your all, and I will devour it, savor it, keep it with me forever. But you stayed silent, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“I’m quite the handful, am I? Sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown all this” - she gestured toward herself - “at you during our first date.” Then her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. “Fuck, sorry, I just assumed… you probably don’t…”

Finally, movement came back into you. You jumped from your chair and were next to her in a few paces. She lifted a hand and you took it in yours.

“Of course this is a date,” you said gently and smiled at her. “Otherwise why would I have been this nervous for the past three days, thinking of nothing but you, constantly checking my phone to see if you texted me? And I brought red wine, come on.” That brought a smile to her face. She chuckled lightly.

“So I haven’t just ruined everything?” The hope in her eyes was mixed with real, honest fear.

“No, of course not. I’m glad you’re being open with me. You know, I planned not to reveal too much about myself tonight, fearing I would scare you away or say something stupid and make you suddenly lose interest.”

The current song ended and a soft, funky beat came on. There it was again, that twinkle in Abby’s eyes. Your hands were still clasped around hers and she made no move to pull back.

“Well, now I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me. Lay it on me. Over dessert, maybe?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“There’s dessert? You’re going to have to roll me out of here later.”

She laughed, warm and genuine, and the pride you had felt back in The Closet filled your chest again. You would do anything just to be the one to make her laugh every day for the rest of your life. She got up and you both started clearing the table together.

Never going to know

What fate is going to blow

Your way, just hope that it feels right

Could that Sade lady be any more on the nose? You risked a glance at Abby, who was smiling to herself. You followed her into the kitchen and she opened the fridge to produce a large glass dish, showing the several layers of biscuit and white cream, topped with dark cacao.

“Tiramisu? Seriously Abby, how much time did you spend in the kitchen today?”

She gave you a crooked grin before exiting the kitchen.

“Took the day off.”

You just sighed and went back into the dining room.

Such a fine time as this

“Here.” Abby handed you a small plate with a piece of her gourmet tiramisu. Your fingers brushed against each other and you both paused for just the blink of an eye.

What could equal the bliss

The thrill of the first kiss

You sat down and grabbed the small fork left next to your wine glass. On second thought, you took another sip of Merlot. It really was exquisite.

“Buon’ appetito,” you said and sliced off a perfect edge of tiramisu. The soft, coffee-drenched biscuit fell apart on your tongue, mixing with the heavy vanilla-flavored mascarpone. “Did you know where the name tiramisu comes from?”

Abby lifted her fork to her mouth and softly closed her lips around the piece of creamy dessert. You were entranced, watching her hand sink down to the table again, then her jaw moving and flexing as she chewed. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and you cleared your throat, taking another piece on your fork.

“ Tira mi su is Italian for ‘pull me down’. It’s the last thing you eat after dinner and the thing that makes you tired, pulls you right into the food coma. In restaurants, it rounds off the meal and guests will probably leave in the following hour because they feel they’re ready to go home.”

Never as good as the first time

Natural as the way we came to be

“Oh,” Abby said, her voice quiet. She looked up at you through dark lashes. “And are you going home after this?”

“No.” You said it without thinking, only knowing what was true in your heart. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m glad.” Taking a deep breath, Abby straightened up, then reached a hand across the table, her palm facing up. You stared at it for a fraction of a second before placing your hand in hers, feeling something fall into place inside you. The glances you exchanged said so much more than you could possibly dare to say out loud right now.

You used your free hand to stab the last piece of tiramisu. This time it was Abby who was watching you with hungry eyes as the fork vanished between your lips and emerged clean.

“This tiramisu could be the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” you said after swallowing and Abby’s fingers twitched ever so slightly around your hand.

“Thank you. I’m really into French and Italian cuisine, as you may have noticed.”

You leaned back in your chair, careful not to pull back your hand.

“I couldn’t do it, honestly. Spending so much time in the kitchen. Especially not with a job like yours, on your feet all day. I’d probably survive off of pasta and takeout.”

Abby smiled and began slowly drawing circles on the back of your hand with her thumb. You were already hyper-aware of how your blood rushed through every vein of your body, a side-effect of the red wine, but now it came to a roar in your ears.

“I guess I need some kind of hobby besides lifting weights. It calms me down. And it’s not just about the end result, about getting to eat something, but also about picking the right ingredients, taking my time cutting them up, trying new recipes with new flavors, and learning more about food and culture, and honestly about myself. It’s like meditating.”

“That sounds…” you were at a loss for words, “unbelievable? I’ve never heard someone talk about cooking like that. And I’ve never felt that way about it, too. I guess I’d like to, though. It sounds nice.”

Abby brushed her thumb over your knuckles.

“Well, I could show you.” You tilted your head slightly. “I mean, we could cook together. Next time. If you want to?”

Sade’s voice, smooth as polished wood and dripping with honey cut into the moment.

How could I have doubted

Honey, it's with me that you belong

“Yeah, I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”

“Do you like lasagna? We could make a vegetable lasagna and substitute the meat for soy. I could show you how to make a béchamel.”

You laughed and squeezed her hand.

“I love lasagna, although I have no idea what a beshmel is.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Abby’s face was glowing with happiness.

As the last two songs of the album played, you helped Abby clean up the table. You got into an argument about doing the dishes - Abby said she’d do it later but you insisted you would do them now or at least help because so far you had not lifted a finger.

“Come on, Abby, please let me help?” You tried your best doe eyes at her. She grinned and playfully slapped your upper arm.

“Okay. But I’ll put on different music.”

She vanished to the dining room while you began filling the sink with water. A high note filled the room before a man spoke.

You broke my heart / 'Cause I couldn't dance

You didn't even want me around

And now I'm back / To let you know

I can really shake 'em down

Abby stepped into your field of vision. The music set in, a delightful 60’s rock and roll melody, and Abby began dancing toward you with tiny steps and shaking shoulders. She was lip synching to the coarse voice of the singer and reaching out her hands for you. Snapping out of your frozen position, you shook your head, grabbed her hands, and were immediately twirled through the kitchen. A squeak escaped you as Abby pulled you back toward her and with another pirouette, you almost slammed into her chest. You both laughed out loud, continuing to dance through the kitchen with big, overexaggerated moves, flailing your arms and shuffling your feet across the tile.

I can do the twist

Now, tell me baby

Do you like it like this?

You quickly began singing along to the simple lyrics and both of you were giggling at each other’s dance moves. The next song was Stand By Me and you both settled down, beginning to clean the pots and dishes. You did the washing while Abby dried off the pieces you gave her and put them back into the right cupboards. Both of you were swaying and humming along to the music.

During the second chorus, both of you began belting along, filling the kitchen with the wonderfully familiar sound of slightly drunk women singing together. As the song ended, you both comically froze and waited for the next song to set in. When it was La Bamba by Ritchie Valens, you both continued singing along and showing off some probably terrible salsa moves. You were done in no time and Abby took your hand, pulling you into the dining room and sliding across the wooden floors with you. Your stomach hurt from laughing and you couldn’t stop smiling.

Next came the bittersweet Be My Baby by the Ronettes, a song you remembered from your childhood, vague memories of your parents slow dancing together after another terrible fight. You swallowed down the hint of bitterness creeping up from your stomach. Instead, you looked up at Abby, almost a full head taller than you, and dared yourself to step forward. You placed your right hand in Abby’s and your left on her tricep, coming unbearably and exhilaratingly close. Abby put her hand on your back, right below your shoulder blade, warming you through the fabric of your shirt. Your faces were incredibly close, her breath warm on your nose, and you could have counted every single freckle on her beautiful face. There was a slim ring of gold around her pupil, complimenting the green of her iris. She was breathtaking.

You couldn’t take this any longer. Should you kiss her? Everything inside you wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close the last inch of distance. It felt like wanting to do a handstand but pulling back at the last second every time because of a deep fear of failing and hurting yourself. It was terribly frustrating.

Instead, you leaned your head against the round muscle of Abby’s shoulder, turning your face toward her chest and pressing your temple to her collarbone. You could smell the herbs she had used to cook earlier in the fabric of her shirt, but her skin smelled like pine and something else, earthy and dark, like tree bark or wool. Abby rested her chin against your forehead and her low hum of contentment vibrated against your cheek.

A light waltz melody began, Unchained Melody, a song you knew from some commercial and had listened to for a few weeks straight after.

I need your love

God speed your love to me

You smiled to yourself and could sense Abby was doing the same. You kept slowly turning, dancing through the candle-lit room and swaying side to side. The band set in louder and you lifted your head again. Abby’s eyes were fixed to yours, but you couldn’t stop yours from wandering lower, finding those perfectly pink lips, hanging open ever so slightly. Your hand wandered upward, along her shoulder, and to the back of her neck. As the last verse of the song began, you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against her. Abby inhaled sharply, her fingers spreading on your back and pressing against your skin. You gently pressed your lips to hers again and this time, she kissed you back. You dug your fingertips into the back of her neck, desperately wanting to come closer, to pull her down to you, hell, you would climb her like a tree if you had to.

Feeling courageous, you stuck your tongue out and ran the tip upward over her lips. Abby instantly reacted, opening her mouth for you and greeting your tongue with hers. She tasted like wine and cacao, and faintly like thyme. Releasing your hand, she wrapped her arms around your waist. You reached up and buried your hand in her hair. She gasped into your mouth. You tucked that sound away for later, swearing to yourself you would make her do it again as often as you could.

A few seconds of silence between songs were disrupted by your wonderfully frivolous wet kissing sounds and a small whine that escaped you when Abby’s hand wandered lower to cup your ass. The first guitar chords of Nights In White Satin vibrated through the air and Abby grabbed you tightly before lifting you off the ground and wrapping your legs around her hips. She carried you over to the dining table and set you down.

The dramatic crescendo in the song you loved so much began.

And I love you

Yes I love you

Oh, how I love you

The singer’s voice filled every corner of the room, his declaration hovering above you, the high voices of the background singers ringing in your ears and Abby’s hands everywhere, her body leaning over you, her hips pressed between your legs. You flexed your legs to pull her in closer, almost falling apart when Abby let out a low moan and rocked her hips forward against you. Then she suddenly slowed down and broke the kiss.

“Wait, let’s talk for a second.”

You kept your legs clamped around her, but relaxed back a little, brushing back a strand of hair from her forehead and giving her an encouraging nod to go ahead.

“I haven’t… I’m not that experienced with - with women. And generally. And I don’t want to rush things and do something wrong and lose you. I don’t really know how this works and I want to do it right.”

Her hands on your waist tightened slightly. You gave her a shy smile.

“Me neither. I’m scared, too.” You surprised yourself with your openness. “How about we take this slow, then? Talk about everything openly? And just go one step at a time?”

Abby nodded and pulled you closer again.

Holding Back The Years began playing.

“One kiss at a time.” She gave you a gentle peck on the lips.

“Oh, really? I would have never picked you as the sappy type,” you laughed against her lips.

“You wouldn’t?” She acted shocked. “Let me remind you of how I took the day off to cook a gourmet french dish for you.”

“True.” You shrugged and pulled her in for another kiss. “It’s probably the muscles. With those guns, you can do anything and still be taken seriously.”

Abby snorted and you realized that had been the wine talking. For a second, you were mortified, then she scooped you up again, holding your body with one arm as she ran her free hand through your hair.

“Oh, those? You know, they’re specifically for carrying you around all day. Anything for my - princess.” You had very well noticed the little pause there, but you decided not to say anything yet. Instead, you lifted your chin and eyebrows, imitating what you thought a royal would look like.

“Well, what does that make you? You’re obviously not a prince. My lady knight?”

Abby nodded solemnly.

“Sworn to protect and defend you. And to carry you wherever.”

“Well, do you have a sofa you could carry me to?” You tightened your hold on her shoulders and leaned in closer again.

“Of course, my lady.”

Abby carried you through a doorway at the back of the dining room into a cozy living room, equipped with a large sofa and a gigantic flatscreen tv, two vintage armchairs, a wooden bookshelf with at least 100 books, and a desk facing the window, medical books spread across the surface. The blonde sat down on the sofa and you knelt left and right of her hips, straddling her as you gave her another soft kiss.

“You know,” you began, “I’ve been crushing on you for months now. I thought you had absolutely no interest in me. I didn’t even know you liked women.”

Abby’s eyes widened at your confession.

“Shit, I had no idea. You weren’t exactly forward, you know. The first time we met, you already had this pull on me. But you were so shy and I didn’t want to jump you or annoy you, so I tried to keep my distance and wait if you would come around.”

“You have Leah to thank for that. Me coming around. I kind of forgot to come out to her until karaoke night and she told me you were dating women as well. She knows I’ve been a hopeless case when it comes to you, but she wanted me to figure this out on my own.”

Abby thought about this for a second.

“Yeah, Leah probably only told you because she knew I liked you, too. I haven’t been that open about dating women in the past, just because talking about dating in general was weird with Owen and Mel around and I also just don’t like everyone knowing my personal business.”

“I get that.” You nodded. “As I said, I hadn’t even been out to Leah. Mostly because I haven’t dated anyone in forever and the last time was a disaster not worth talking about.” You winced at the memory.

“You wanna tell me anyway?”

You thought about it for a second, then you climbed off Abby’s lap and laid down on the sofa, resting your head on her thigh. Her fingers immediately began brushing through your hair and massaging your scalp.

“Well, I met this girl during a freshman party at a sorority house the weekend before my first semester in college,” you began. You had felt weirdly out of place, but were determined to speak to at least one person. A few hours and an almost-lethal amount of tequila later, the girl you had talked to all night had dragged you into one of the bedrooms. You both had no previous experience, were extremely drunk and it was already 5am. You had fun making out and were both eager to try more, but it had been more out of curiosity than desire for each other and so the experience had not ended in the expected bliss of lesbian sex. Rather, she had come pretty quickly and afterward she'd begun crying and told you she had a boyfriend, and you had gotten dressed and fled the house. After that, dating in college was not really something you thought about much.

Abby listened to your story with interest and sympathy, laughing at a few parts and stroking your hair as you told her about the end of that fateful night. She felt deeply sorry for your experience of strangeness and betrayal, immediately promising to you that she would always tell you what was going on inside her head and what she wanted.

“Like you just did,” you smiled at her. “That was brave. It’s what I should have done that night.”

“I mean, I had a few weird moments, too, before I learned to speak my mind.” Abby’s gaze unfocused and she frowned as she clearly recalled some not very pleasant memories.

“Wanna tell me, too?” you asked, keeping your voice light. She nodded, looking down at you again.

“I mean, there's Owen, obviously. That didn’t work out well and now he is with Mel, leaving me wondering if he was interested in her while we were still together. After we broke up, Nora and I went on a little bender.” Your heart jumped into your throat. Did Abby and Nora...? A wave of jealousy rose from the bottom of your stomach, but you forced yourself to keep your calm, smiling at Abby as she continued.

“We spent every weekend at a different bar, and one of them was actually at The Closet. Nora was making out with a woman in actual overalls” - she snorted - “and I just hung out at the bar, drinking Long Islands and not brave enough to make eye contact with anyone. And then the bartender started talking to me.”

Suddenly realization dawned on you. You sat up and stared at Abby.

“Wait, Ellie? The short-haired one?”

Abby grimaced.

“Yeah. We talked for a while and I came back the next week with Leah and Jordan. They didn’t even notice I was spending a lot of time at the bar. Ellie and I met for coffee a few days later and I mentioned my dad and she got really quiet and strange. Turns out, she’s related to the guy that murdered my dad, so...”

You were pretty sure your heart stopped for a moment, all the air in your chest building up pressure as you tried to figure out how to breathe out. Abby noticed and gently guided you to lay back down, continuing to weave her fingers into your hair.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’ll tell you the whole story another time. So yeah, Ellie and I. It was horrible, but we still stayed and talked for a while. She couldn’t tell me a lot about what happened, but she had no idea that I even existed and she was about to have a panic attack over it all. I helped her calm down and then she felt terrible for reacting so badly when it should be me panicking and I just told her that there’s nothing any of us can do now and we should probably leave it at that.” She sighed. “I hadn’t been to The Closet until a few days ago. I only came because I knew you’d be there.”

“Fuck, that’s terrible,” you mumbled. “I don’t think I could have gone back there. I’m still glad you did, though.”

“Me too,” Abby said, her voice gentle and honest. She leaned down to kiss you, deeply and passionately.

You stayed on the sofa for the next few hours, talking about school crushes and gay awakenings, about women constantly hitting on Abby and her being confused for a long time. She told you more about her relationship with Mel and you started to actually resent that woman. Who did she think she was? You told Abby about living with Leah and about your current research projects and she listened intently, asking a lot of questions about the art you were analyzing. You began diving into queer art and Sappho and your theory on the different languages of different social groups. Abby actually gave you some great new ideas and some good questions you couldn’t yet answer and you were actually beginning to look forward to writing tomorrow.

As the clock moved past midnight, it became clear you would have to leave at some point soon. Abby had to get up at 7 in the morning for a 10-hour shift, and you had stifled one too many yawns. You were cuddled up on the couch, kisses interchanging with long, deep conversations and more kisses.

“I can accompany you to the station,” Abby suggested as you looked up the departure times on your phone.

“You don’t have to. That’s sweet of you, but I’ll find the way.” You kissed her for her generosity, but she pulled back.

“Honestly. I don’t want you walking alone. I’ll go with you.” A sheepish smile appeared on her face and she did a tiny bow. “My lady.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, making your way to the entrance hall. Abby gently helped you into your coat and put on a black bomber jacket, a strange but hot combination with her fancy pants. She opened the door for you and you stepped out into the cold night together.

You held hands on the way to the station, stopping at every corner to make out, laughing together, and making plans for your lasagna night. You would come over on Thursday, promising to yourself you would finish all your coursework until then. Manny would come back on Friday, so you’d have the house to yourself again.

You arrived at the station way too soon, but your train was announced to arrive in two minutes. Heavy-hearted, you flung your arms around the tall blonde and she wrapped hers around your waist, lifting you up for another deep kiss.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” she whispered against your lips.

“I’ll even dress up next time,” you mumbled and she grinned at you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt. I’m excited.” Well, now you had to go shopping. Leah would be delighted to go with you.

You pressed a last kiss to Abby’s lips before unwrapping yourself from her arms as the train rolled into the station. As you stepped away, she caught your hand and pulled you back for another one, cheekily running her tongue over your bottom lip. You sighed and kissed her hand, wrapped firmly around yours, before stepping back and boarding the train. You waved at her through the window as you departed and watched her stand on the platform until she was out of sight.

Letting yourself fall into one of the seats, you pulled out your phone and texted your brother.

-We kissed!!!! Call me when you can

Then you texted Leah about shopping tomorrow, just able to send the text before your phone vibrated with a new message.

-You looked beautiful tonight. I’m the luckiest person in the world.

You tried to keep your squeal as quiet as possible. A woman a few seats ahead of you briefly looked up from her phone.

-Can’t believe I have a personal knight who will carry me wherever I want to go

The reply came in seconds.

-Anywhere and anything you want. Text me when you’re home!

-Can I text you before I’m home? I miss you already :(

You had to wait a few minutes before your phone vibrated again. This time, Abby was calling.

“Sorry, I was cleaning up and getting ready for bed.” She sounded a bit breathless.

“No worries,” you said. “What are you wearing for bed?”

Abby let out a surprised laugh.

“Really, now?”

“I’m serious. I want to imagine being with you.”

“Well, I’m wearing a gigantic black t-shirt with a ton of holes and boxers.”

You closed your eyes, envisioning Abby’s thighs straining against the hem of her shorts and the soft cotton of her shirt that you could bury your face in. She would smell like nature and like home somewhere far away.

“I wish I was there.” You noticed you were sounding desperate. Fucking hell, were you about to turn into a 13-year-old? You could hear the smile in Abby’s voice when she spoke.

“I wish you were here with me, too.” She paused for a moment. Then, “Do you want to sleep over on Thursday?”

“Uhm -” you had to think for a second, remembering you only had dinner plans for Friday with your mom. Before you could answer, Abby cut in again

“Fuck, am I rushing you? I didn’t mean - I just thought it would be nice, falling asleep together. But I totally get if that’s -”

“Abby! Of course I want to stay over!” You clenched your free hand into a fist, punching your thigh a few times in order to divert the explosion of energy inside your chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Abby’s shaky laugh was heart-wrenching. “I thought I messed up already.”

You stood up to exit at your station.

“No, not at all. I’d love to fall asleep with you.”

The way to your apartment was over faster than you wanted it to be.

“I’m home now. I think I should hang up, Leah is probably sleeping.”

“Yeah, don’t wake the monster.” Abby chuckled.

“Good night, Abby. Tonight was incredible.”

“Good night, Y/N. You’re incredible. Sleep tight.”

--

Author's note: Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here

[gwentoryfics]

Hot for Teacher, Part 6.

Genre | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

Pairing | Reader x Hongseok x Hyunggu (Kino) x Wooseok

Words | 14k

Summary | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

Warnings | Mentions of abusive familial relationships. Explicit sexual content. Grinding. Penetrative sex. Swearing. And, as always, poor choices.

Parts | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 5.5 • 6 • More Coming Soon

Note | Added Wooseok to the official Pairing list because, let’s be real. He’s earned it. Thank you all for your never-ending patience! I love each and every one of you, and I’ll never get over how much love and support you all give me.

The morning brings with it a throbbing headache and a brief moment of surprise when you realize you’ve woken up in an apartment that is not your own. You remember quickly, however, that you ran into Kino last night and ended up crashing at his place, so you’re not alarmed.

You’re sweaty under the blanket that’s draped over you, and your shirt- er, the one you borrowed from Kino- sticks to your back. Vague bits of a dream mix with faded memories of last night, and you have to take a moment to sort everything out.

You went to the club with the seniors from jazz band. The boys were so supportive, and their performance was stellar, and… and they fucking signed you up to play. Right.

And then you ran into Professor Yang, who sent you home. Your whole body had throbbed with want for him, as per usual. But instead…

Wooseok.

You went to Wooseok’s place, and he fingered you on the kitchen counter.

What was that all about? How did you end up making out with him of all people? Not that he was a bad choice or anything, maybe just an unexpected one.

Desperately, you try to piece together what you feel about the whole situation. So you start with the things you know to be true about him:

Wooseok is tall and attractive, especially in a jean jacket.

Wooseok is an incredible kisser.

Wooseok knows how to use his fingers.

And then you think of things that you know to be true about you:

You’re feeling turned on again just by thinking about Wooseok.

You’re blessedly distracted by something that isn’t Professor Yang for once.

You don’t know what you feel towards Wooseok emotionally, but you maybe wouldn’t mind if something like last night happened again. Maybe.

You puff out your cheeks and let the air rush out in a deep sigh. Somehow, you had managed to make a messy semester even messier. Literally all you had to do was just get your shit together. Is that really such a difficult thing for you to accomplish?

Thoughts of Wooseok’s lips, tongue, and fingers swirl in your brain, and it’s weirdly relieving. It feels like there may be hope for you after all - your world doesn’t have to revolve around Professor Yang. You can move on. You can see other people and stop feeling so hung up on him. 

Maybe the rest of this semester won’t be so bad.

Grabbing your phone off of the coffee table, you check your notifications. Just a message from Nailah - oops, you forgot to let her know you weren’t coming home last night - and an email in your school account. You send off a quick reply to Nailah letting her know that you’re alive and that you’ll make it up to her, and then you check the email.

“_____,

Because you missed our meeting last week, I would like to reschedule. I have set aside time this Thursday afternoon to meet with you. Please let me know if this time does not work for you.

Thank you,

Professor Hongseok Yang”

The email is so formal, it makes you roll your eyes. You get it - your school email is probably monitored and he doesn’t want to at all hint at any kind of comfortability between the two of you, but it doesn’t have to sound like a fucking dissertation. 

You know what? Whatever. You’ll meet with him. It’s not a big deal, anyway, because you’re getting over him. 

Without the slightest hint of sass or sarcasm or whatever else, you genuinely write back: 

“Professor Yang,

Thursday afternoon works great for me. I’ll see you then.

Thank you!

_____”

Sending the message, you feel relieved. You’re turning over a new leaf. All that’s left for you to do is send a quick text to Wooseok letting him know that you won’t be able to tutor him this week, and once that is on its way to him you feel like you’re ready to start the day.

As you sit up on the couch, about to get up and go to the bathroom, you notice a Kino-sized lump on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Had he slept there all night?

You reach down, lifting the end of the blanket that covers his head. “Psst.”

He inhales deeply and shifts, eyes opening and squinting at the sunlight pouring in from the windows. Passively, you note that he’s actually really cute when he’s so sleepy.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you coo. You ruffle his hair, and he swats your hand away, emitting a noise that sounds like a cross between a chuckle and a groan. 

“Five more minutes.”

“No. I’m up so you should be up, too.” 

“Oh, is that how this works?” He peeks up at you, one eye still squinted shut. 

“Think so. I am the guest of honor here, so you should probably do what I say.”

“Guest of honor, my ass.”

“I’m not the one sleeping on the floor, so I think that puts me a step above you.”

“Please. I’m only down here because of you.”

You laugh. “Why? Were you worried I might have nightmares out here by myself?”

“No, I thought you’d be fine.” He sits up, stretching his arms and back, which are surely stiff from sleeping on the carpet all night. “You’re the one that asked me to stay with you.”

Your cheeks suddenly warm and your eyes widen. “...I did?”

He nods. “Yeah, I was going to head in because I thought you were asleep, but the second I stood up you asked me to stay. So I stayed.”

“Shit, Kino, I was drunk. You didn’t have to do that for me.” You frown. “You’re probably stiff as hell because of it.”

Kino just shrugs. “Well, now you know what I’m willing to do for you.”

“Would you be willing to make me some eggs?”

With a broad smile, Kino stands. “Anything for you, dear.” And then he pushes you back onto the couch, giggling like a maniac as he runs for the kitchen.

“Shithead!”

***

You’re grateful to find Changgu at the reception desk on Monday. You never actually sent the apology text that you drafted, and at this point it’s probably better to just do it in person - no matter how embarrassing it might be.

“Hey, Changgu.” You approach the desk, greeting him quietly. Shyly.

He looks up from the computer, eyebrows lifting in surprise before a smile settles on his lips. “Quite the weekend, huh?”

Oh, he has no idea. “You’re telling me.”

“How can I help you?”

“I wanted to apologize for everything. You guys could have all had a perfectly good time without me. I shouldn’t have lied to you about my age.”

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t do that too often. But I’m not going to lecture you.”

“Thanks.” You shift your weight awkwardly, not really sure what else to say. “Anyway, I really appreciate you inviting me to the jazz club, and getting me into the jazz band practice. I really enjoyed it. Both of those things.”

“It’s not a problem.” Changgu smiles warmly. What a gentle ray of sunshine he is. Then he grabs a stack of post-it notes and scribbles something down before handing it over. “I’m supposed to give you this.”

“Oh?” You look at the square of paper to find what looks to be a phone number.

“From Yanan. You don’t have to text him if you don’t want to. He can be a little forward sometimes, but he won’t be weird about it if he doesn’t hear from you. He just always has to try, you know?”

“Oh. Okay.” You slip it into your pocket, not exactly sure what you want to do with it. “Um, I should probably get going. Class and all. You know.”

As you turn to head out, he calls your name. “_____?”

“Yeah?” You look back at him.

If you’re not mistaken, Changgu’s cheeks are the most delicate rose color. “Don’t forget that you have my number, too.”

Is he flirting?

You smile reassuringly. If Bad Choices is becoming your middle name, you may as well embrace it. “I won’t forget.”

***

Thursday afternoon, you find yourself in Professor Yang's office, as he requested. You feel surprisingly level-headed, but you do notice just a hint of nervousness in the back of your mind. After all, you’re getting over him - so you’re not quite over him yet. He’s still beautiful and tempting and damn him for wearing such a delicious cologne all the time.  

Professor Yang sits across from you, behind his desk, as always. He’s looking through the two incorrectly-graded assignments you brought in, and he takes the time to correct them.

"I apologize. You were right about my miscalculations." He plugs the updated grades into his computer, and they hardly even affect your total grade. "I assure you that I'll take my time with your midterm and all other assignments from here on out."

"Thank you." You take back your labs and stuff them into your backpack. The midterm you took on Tuesday hadn't been terribly difficult and you're anticipating that you'll get a good grade anyway. But at least you know that he's aware of his mistakes so you won't have to confront him about it again (hopefully). 

You stand, ready to leave now that your meeting’s purpose is complete, but he beckons you. "I need to speak with you about something else."

You meet his caramel eyes, and he's just as impossible to read as always. Begrudgingly, you fall back into your chair. "What is it?"

Professor Yang's tongue swipes over his lower lip, but in such a way to indicate that he's thinking, considering where to start. Still, it catches your attention, and you probably look at his lips a hair longer than you should. Damn him.

"About what you said this weekend..." He searches your face. "I don't have a girlfriend."

Why the fuck did he have to say that, of all things?!

"Okay," you spit out, trying to act aloof even though you're fucking mortified that he would even bring that up. You're sure that your furiously warming cheeks give you away. "Good for you."

Professor Yang looks dissatisfied. "Can we perhaps have an adult conversation about this?"

"I don't have to have anything with you." You cross your arms over your chest, defaulting to your usual sass mode that always seems to emerge around him.

His eyes narrow and he scoffs. "See, this is exactly why I said you needed to leave Saturday night. Do you at all notice the childish fit that you're throwing right now?"

With a roll of your eyes (yes, you realize that's still childish), you uncross your arms and take a deep breath. "Fine. Let's talk. What do you want?"

"I want to know what's going on with you. Why did you tell me to say hi to my girlfriend?"

The thing is, you know that he knows exactly why you said it. He just wants you to admit it out loud. "I was heated." That's as much as you'll give him.

"Is that why you left our last appointment? Because you were heated?" Professor Yang recalls the way you stormed off after seeing that woman in his office last week.

"You seemed busy."

"I wasn't. She was leaving."

"Whatever. I didn't feel like talking."

"Did you think she was my girlfriend?"

"I don't care who she is."

"She's my sister."

Somehow, that genuinely catches you off guard. You shift in your seat, curious. "You have a sister?"

Professor Yang nods calmly. "Two. Both younger than me. The sister that you saw was in town for a conference, and she just stopped in to visit. I don't get to see her very often."

Shit. Well that certainly explains why she was so gorgeous, since they share the same gene pool. You try to remain neutral about it all. "I'm glad you got to see her, then."

"The way you've reacted to her is very concerning." His brow furrows. "I knew this would be an issue if we tried to do a class together."

"This has nothing to do with you and me, okay? This..." you gesture between him and yourself, "...is nothing. You can date whoever you want. I literally don't care."

"You want me to believe that after the way you acted?"

"You think I'm jealous or something?" You scoff, laughing, but it's awkward and forced. He notices, and gives you the look of oh-please. Defensively you say, "I'm not jealous!"

Pause. A lull in conversation. You’re both aware that you’re lying, and it’s obvious that you will never admit to it, no matter what he says. You hold each others' gaze, and you wonder which of you will be the first to look away. And then he speaks.

"I wanted to tell you something else. Something honest. But I need you to not read into it, okay? Just take it at face value. Promise me you can do that."

Faintly, you notice the way your heart skips. "Okay. I promise."

"You obviously shouldn't have been at the club over the weekend, but I just thought you should know that you're a really talented pianist. I was very impressed to hear you play like that."

It hadn't even occurred to you that he was in the audience while you were playing. But now that he's acknowledging it, you feel retroactively nervous about your performance. "Thank you... I appreciate that."

He nods once and then turns to his computer, closing out of the grading screen and generally avoiding your gaze.

"I want to say something honestly, too." You get up the nerve to speak, but you have to hold your hands together to keep them from trembling. How could he affect you so much?

His gaze is so intense, full of warning. "Please be careful with whatever it is you want to say."

He doesn't trust you. You can't blame him. You don't really trust him either. You're both tiptoeing around very dangerous territory even allowing yourselves to be in the same room. But this time you want to share with him something genuine, something that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever may have transpired between the two of you in the past.

"I'm truly enjoying your class. And it's not because you're the one teaching it, I swear. The material is really interesting to me and I'm really looking forward to building my dulcimer."

He smiles, and it's almost unguarded. Like he's relieved that you didn't say something else. "That means a lot to me. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I’m not kidding when I say I've been looking forward to this class since I heard about it last year. And I think you're a great teacher, everything else aside."

"Thank you."

"Can I actually ask you a question? About building instruments and stuff."

He sits back a little, as if he's finally able to relax around you, now that you're actually acting like a student speaking with their teacher. "Of course."

"When did you start building instruments? And did you build that guitar?" You gesture to the instrument resting in the corner of the room, with its beautifully stained wood and delicate detailing around the sound hole. 

“I did!” He lights up and stands, retrieving the guitar. “I built my first guitar when I was sixteen. Didn’t turn out that great because I was not very skilled. But after honing my craft for a few years, I saw more success in the instruments I built. This little lady came along just two years ago.”

“She’s beautiful,” you praise his handiwork. “Seriously. I’m impressed that it’s actually a handmade guitar.”

Professor Yang looks at you like you just sprouted a second head. “Of course it’s handmade. All of the best instruments are. You expect a machine to produce something that sounds like this?”

He strums the strings gently, an arpeggiated chord ringing sweetly through the room. The warm, buttery sound is enough to raise goosebumps on your arms.

“You’re right. No robot could ever make that.” 

“This guitar is my heart and soul.” He smooths his hand over its curves lovingly.

“Can you play that? ‘Heart and Soul’?”

“Why on Earth would I want to play that atrocity on my masterpiece of an instrument? Absolutely not.”

You laugh. “Fair enough. Play something else, then. I want to hear what she can do.”

With no further prompting needed, he dives into a beautiful melody, plucking the strings softly and tapping his nails against the strings to create a beat. The sound is gorgeous, and it’s incredibly special to see him get swept up in the music he’s creating. He’s entirely focused on the movement of his fingers, the swell of each phrase, the gentle groove he’s creating.

Your eyes close so you can hear the music more deeply. It seeps into you, and you can feel him in each note. He is part of the music, giving himself to the melody and turning it into something beyond notes on a page. He breathes life into it.

The song ends, and you wish it never had to. You could listen to him play forever. In the end, all you can manage is a soft wow.

“Nice, right?” Professor Yang grins widely, clearly proud of himself.

“Seriously incredible. And you’re so good at playing it, too.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

You sit up a little more, interested. “The way you were tapping the strings… it reminds me of those people who can, like, play the strings and drum on the guitar body at the same time. Can you do that?”

“I used to. Let’s see…”

He plays something a little more upbeat this time, tapping his fingers, knuckles, and the heel of his palm against the guitar’s body as he strums. It’s not perfect and eventually he stumbles, but it’s still incredibly impressive.

With a short laugh, he gives up. “Like I said, I used to. It has been a while.”

“That’s probably the coolest thing in the world,” you laugh along with him. “I don’t know how you have enough coordination to do that.”

“It’s a skill. Like anything else, you just have to take the time to practice and learn.” Professor Yang drums his fingers against the wood softly. “Clearly I’m a little out of practice.”

“I mean, if you don’t have the time to grade my labs properly, I can’t imagine you have time to sit around drumming on your guitar.”

He cocks his head and purses his lips. “You try teaching a class at a university and we’ll see how easy it is for you to keep up with everything.”

“Hey, I’m not doubting the incredible stress you must be under.” You tease. 

It hits you then how incredibly comfortable you feel with him, how easy it is to be with him unguarded. It’s really… nice.

There’s a knock at the door, then, and Professor Yang glances at the clock on his desk. “Ah. Come in!”

The door opens to reveal another student - a boy from your class. “Hi, Professor.” He notices you still sitting in the office. “Am I too early for our meeting?”

Professor Yang reassures him, “Right on time, actually.”

You nod. “I was just getting ready to leave.” Grabbing your bag, you stand and address Professor Yang. “Thank you for meeting with me today. Really.”

“Not a problem. Thank you for making the time to stop in. I’m glad we got everything sorted out.” He nods once to you. “Have a good weekend and I’ll see you in class.”

“You, too.” 

The two of you exchange a smile, and it feels delightfully innocent. It feels like it means something different, like an agreement to be okay with each other from now on. An agreement to not be at each others’ throats this semester. It gives you hope that you’ve finally broken through into a more peaceful part of your relationship as student and teacher.

This semester is going to be just fine.

***

“_____.”

Your eyes lift from the keyboard to find that the tallest human you know somehow snuck into the R&B Ensemble rehearsal without you noticing. You forgot that he was allowed to rejoin the group this week. “Oh. Hi.”

“...hi.” Wooseok tries to smile, but it’s small and awkward and he looks kind of concerned.

You haven’t spoken to him at all during the week or so that has passed since you made out with him. The only communication that happened was the text that you sent to let him know you had to cancel tutoring. He hadn’t responded, and now that you think about it, you probably should have reached out to him again at some point.

A smile pulls across your lips, although you’re sure it seems just as ingenuine as his. But if it’s ingenuine, it’s only because you’re actually wildly nervous about being in front of him again. From your seat on the piano bench, he towers over you, tall and handsome and… and he’s wearing that fucking jean jacket. It’s devastating.

The silence between the two of you stretches on for far too long, and he eventually gives up on having a conversation as he retreats to the drumset. 

Yikes. You didn’t mean for that to get so weird.

Rehearsal goes much more smoothly now that Wooseok is back, and he drums like he never missed a single practice. Every rhythm and fill is spot on. The whole ensemble falls into a groove that’s just a little bit deeper, a little bit smoother than before. And you can tell that your instructor, Typhanie, is jazzed about it.

After rehearsal, Kino darts over to the keyboard. “_____, your solo was killer tonight!”

“You know I’d say the same to you, but I compliment you every week and eventually you’re going to get a big head about it.”

He pouts. “Nonsense. Compliment me.”

You rise to your feet and pat his head twice. “Well done.”

Kino rolls his eyes, but his smile is bright. He nods his head in the direction of the door, tugging on your sleeve absentmindedly. “Come on, let’s go. I want to ask you something.”

You grab your things and follow him. “Alright. Go on.”

“So, um, two-fold question.” He pushes the door open, and ushers you out of the room. “First, are you free this weekend? Specifically Saturday night?”

“I think so. Are we gonna do something?”

“Yeah, I just wanted-”

“_____! Hold up!” Wooseok’s voice precedes him down the hall as he comes thundering after you. Both you and Kino pause as he approaches. “Sorry, can I talk to you? Please?”

You look over at Kino, who wears a slight frown. As much as you don’t want to do this to Kino, you know you really should talk with Wooseok. “Can I catch up with you later?” 

Kino cocks his head, like he’s surprised you would choose Wooseok over him. But you’re not choosing Wooseok over him, you just… you just have to do this. Kino throws on a half-hearted smile and says, “Sure. Later.”

Wooseok pulls you aside as Kino departs, heading down a different hallway to get you away from the other students leaving rehearsal. You don’t protest, but you tell yourself that you will if he tries anything funny.  

“What is it?” you ask, knowing full well what this conversation is going to be.

“I was kind of hoping you could tell me.” Wooseok expression is unsettled. “I’ve been dying to talk to you, but I thought you might need space, since you just kind of stormed off and then immediately canceled tutoring.”

Oh shit. You didn’t mean for it to come off that way. You canceled because of Professor Yang, not because things were weird between you and Wooseok. Nevertheless, you had run out of his apartment without any kind of explanation, and that is entirely your fault. “I’m sorry I left like that. And I swear, I didn’t cancel tutoring because of… everything. Something else came up. That’s all.”

The gentle giant takes a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. We were both a little drunk and I shouldn’t have taken it so far. If you don’t ever want to be around me again, I understand. But I just wanted to talk to you about it and let you know that I’m sorry. Honestly.”

Your chest warms. It’s so sweet that he’s worried about you, but it’s also unnecessary. There’s nothing for him to be worried about. “It’s okay. Really. You have nothing to feel bad about. I… I wanted it. And I liked it.” You have to look away from him as you admit it.

It feels like a weight is lifted between you. “I did, too. You’re a good kisser.” He chuckles softly, his hands shyly slipping into his pockets.

“Not so bad yourself,” you chime, still avoiding his gaze. “Um, so even though I enjoyed it, I just felt kind of confused after? I’m…” Go on. You can say it. “I’m getting over someone. So I didn’t know what to feel about all of it. Other than fucking mortified because of your roommate.”

“Don’t worry about him. I promise he doesn’t care.”

Finally, you look up at him. He really is quite handsome, and you fully understand why your drunk self had enjoyed him so much. 

“But I totally understand. I didn’t assume that it meant anything, but thanks for letting me know. Oh, by the way…” Wooseok drops his backpack from his shoulder and unzips one of the small side pockets. “I brought something for you.”

You accept the square of tissue, confused about what he could possibly be giving you - until you unwrap it. He had nicely folded your abandoned underwear to return to you, which is simultaneously embarrassing and sweet.

“Oh my God,” you mumble as you recognize the underwear, a stupid little chuckle leaving you. “I… um, thank you.”

“I’ve gotta be honest, I thought about keeping them.”

“W-what?”

Wooseok shrugs nonchalantly, a goofy grin on his face. “I mean, it’s kind of hot to have a girl’s panties. And they’re cute.”

“You really have no filter.” You stuff the panties into your own backpack, flustered.

“Just wanted to see your reaction,” he laughs. “Worth it.” 

“Glad you thought so. Can we head out now?”

“Mm.” He nods once, and you both head for the stairs. “So, just to make sure we’re both on the same page, I still want to be your friend and I don’t expect anything else from you.”

“Agreed.” You smile, grateful that he’s so considerate about all of this. But against your better judgment, your words don’t stop there. “But if it happens again…”

Wooseok freezes a few stairs ahead of you, turning to face you exactly at eye level. He peers at you curiously. “If it happens again...?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. You can’t turn back now, so you may as well embrace it. “Then it happens. But I’m not just a booty call, so don’t even think about treating me that way.”

“So…” He moves up a step towards you, regaining a few inches of height. His voice is low as he asks,  “...what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying… if it feels right and we’re in the moment, then it is what it is.” You know that you’re still being incredibly vague, but you just can’t bring yourself to say I’m down to fuck if you are. “But no catching feelings because I’m still trying to sort mine out.”

“Right, with the guy you’re getting over and everything.” Wooseok leans in a little, the smallest smirk on his lips. “So I shouldn’t call you up out of the blue. But if we’re both here, and we’re both in the moment…”

He leans in further, and you realize he’s going in for a kiss the second he grabs your hand. But you’re all too aware of the fact that you’re standing on the main staircase of the music building, and anyone could walk past you at any time.

You shake off his hand and put your hand on his chest, holding him back. “Not here, idiot. Someone might see!”

He grins mischievously and shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

After that, Wooseok walks you all the way to your dorm, and he’s a total gentleman. He stands with you in front of your building for a moment, his hands buried in his pockets. 

“Just so you know, you’re welcome to come over to my place whenever,” he offers. “Even if you just want to hang out. We could play games or something. We’re friends, after all.”

“That we are. Thanks.” You hold your fist out for him to bump. “See you at tutoring on Thursday, if not before then?”

“Yeah.” He bumps your fist with his own and smiles sweetly. “Catch you later.”

As he walks off, you’re actually really pleased with the way things turned out. Although you didn’t expect to actually bring up the whole maybe-we-could-do-this-again thing, it excites you that he’s at least open to the idea. Who says you can’t have a fling?

You head upstairs and open the door to your room, and you remember that Kino was in the middle of asking you something when he left - and he didn’t seem too pleased by the interruption. So… maybe you should call him to see what’s going on. You do feel kind of bad that he had to leave on his own.

You’re not sure why your impulse is to call and not text, but he answers the phone before you can really question it too much. “Hey, _____.” 

“Hey, Kino. Did you make it home?”

“Yeah.” 

“Go to your window and look up at my building.”

“...Okay…”

You flicker your bedroom light on and off to catch his attention. “Do you see my room? With the flashing light.”

A quiet chuckle comes across the line. “Yeah, I see it.”

“Now show me where you are.”

A short moment later, you notice one of the windows on the building across the street repeatedly light up and go dark. “Found you!”

“What’s this all about?”

You watch as his silhouette reappears in the window. “You didn’t get to ask me your question. I wanted to know what it was.”

“Oh.” He drags his hand through his hair. “So, I haven’t told you yet, but a piece that I choreographed is going to be performed at the Dance Department Showcase.”

“What? Kino, that’s amazing!” It’s not easy to get work presented at a department-wide showcase, so you know that it’s a huge accomplishment for him. “I’m so proud of you. Oh my gosh, that’s so cool.”

“Thank you! Thank you.” Kino laughs, pleased at your reaction. “So… the showcase is this Saturday night and I’m freaking out. I’m not performing, but I’m still incredibly nervous because it’s like… this project, this baby of mine… it’s being put on display and it’s going to be critically watched by all of my peers and professors. It’s just such a big deal.”

“Can I come?” The question eagerly bursts out of you. You would absolutely love to see what he’s capable of choreographing. If it’s anything like his dancing and singing, you know it’ll be awesome. But then you realize that he’s already freaking out about the people in the audience… maybe you shouldn’t add to that stress. “Actually, would that make it worse? I don’t want to stress you out more by being there.”

“No, no, not at all. That’s actually why I brought it up. I want you to come with me.”

You lean against your window, playing with the hem of your shirt. “I would be honored to go with you.”

He exhales deeply. “I think I’m going to feel much better with you there. Thank you.”

“Of course! What are friends for?”

“Exactly.” Kino’s hand comes to rest on the glass, like he’s reaching out to you. “I’ll see you Saturday, then. Well, and probably before then, too.”

You touch your window, too. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, _____.”

“Night, Kino.”

***

Your class with Professor Yang has officially moved over to the woodshop, now that your midterms are done. He had gone over standard dress code the week before (no loose, drapey clothing or open-toed shoes), but you hadn’t realized that he would be dressed differently as well.

Up until this point, you’ve only seen him in dress slacks and button-downs. But now that he’s teaching a woodworking class, he’s dressed way more casually than you expected. It makes sense that he would dress down, but it still surprises you to see him in jeans and a fitted t-shirt. His hair is swooped up and back, exposing his forehead and keeping his hair out of his eyes. 

It would be great if you could go a day without drooling over him. Seriously.

Professor Yang goes over the basics of the woodshop with everyone, explaining some of the general tools you’ll all use regardless of instrument. You’ve never used any sort of woodworking tools before, and it makes you a little nervous to think that you’ll be responsible for keeping your fingers intact while sawing away at the body of your dulcimer, but you know he’s there to help if you’re struggling (or injured).  

If nothing else, you and Shinhye can struggle together.

Beside you, Shinhye observes the slab of wood that is to be the neck of her cigar-box banjo. Her calculations are all finished and she knows exactly how far apart to mark each fret along the neck, but she hesitates. “I don’t know man, I’m going to fuck this up for sure.”

“Look, all you have to do is mark it with pencil, and then Professor Yang will come to check your work. Just don’t make any cuts into the wood without his approval and you’ll be fine.” You start marking up the wood that you’ve been given, confident in your math.

As you measure and make your marks, your ears tune in to the music Professor Yang plays throughout the workshop. He’s playing an old rock station, to be expected, and you perk up when a certain Aerosmith song comes on.

A smile grows on your face as Steven Tyler starts singing, and you remember when you sang “Dream On” in Professor Yang’s office.

You glance up to the front of the room to find Professor Yang looking right at you with a stupid grin on his dumb little face.

Oh, he remembers, too.

You struggle to hide your laughter as he breaks into a huge smile. What a loon you are.

“What are you giggling about?” Shinhye questions, still concentrated way too hard on her little pencil marks.

You’re about to respond with a simple nothing, but then she tucks her short hair behind her ear, revealing a purplish mark just under her jaw. “Oh my God, Shinhye, is that a hickey?”

She looks up at you like a deer in headlights, quickly ruffling her hair out with her fingers. “You didn’t see that.”

“What the hell do you mean? Of course I fucking saw that.” With a shit-eating grin, you lean in close. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hooking up with someone? I need to know these things!”

“It’s not important! I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Dude. Fine. I’ll give you a pass since we’re in class right now but you need to dish later.” Shinhye looks disgruntled at your demand, and you try to make her feel better about the whole situation. “Look, I’m proud of you. I never thought this day would come and I just want to know what happened! This is kind of a big deal.”

“It’s really not.” She rolls her eyes.

A third voice joins the conversation. “How are we doing over here?” Professor Yang stands next to Shinhye, looking over her work.

“Oh, perfect timing. I think I’m just about done. Can you check my marks?” Shinhye hands over her wood, seemingly grateful for the change of topic.

He takes a moment to check her math, but not her measurements. “Your math is good, so as long as you measured according to your numbers you’ll be good to go.”

You don’t even have to ask - he immediately picks up your scrap paper to check your math, too. It astounds you that he doesn’t feel the need to pick up a calculator, as if he could do all of the calculations in his head.

“Your math looks good, too.” He sets your paper down. “Go ahead and put your frets in.”

You cock your head, still surprised that he could be so good at math. “You can do all that math without a calculator?”

“I do have a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree in Mathematics, so believe it or not, I don’t really need a calculator.” His voice is touched with sass, as if to say I’m your teacher and I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you.

But you can’t help the question. This man has not one but two math degrees, and he still fucked up your grades? The probability of that being an accident is practically zero - as you’re sure Mr. Math Wiz would agree.

So it must have been intentional. No matter how much he denies it.

It doesn’t seem like he was doing it to punish you, though. It doesn’t seem to have any purpose besides getting your attention.

Getting you into his office.

Getting you one-on-one.

And he succeeded - you sat in his office with him for a solid half hour as he re-graded your papers and chatted. He hadn’t tried to make a move or anything, so why did he want that alone time with you?

Could it be as innocent as just wanting to spend time together?

It doesn’t matter, you remind yourself. I’m getting over him. He doesn’t want anything from me, and I don’t want anything from him. The past is the past and I’m moving on.

You avoid his gaze for the rest of class.

***

Wooseok sits next to you in the practice room, working diligently on the exercises you’ve given him regarding figured bass. Overall, not at all an important concept for him as a drummer, but it’s definitely going to be on his final and he needs to know it for the sake of his grade.

You don’t know if it’s just because the nature of your relationship has changed, but you’ve felt so distracted through the whole session by how cute he looks. His hair is ruffled and he’s not wearing anything different than what he usually wears, but he just looks so damn attractive.

You know you shouldn’t say anything. You should let him work like the good little tutee he is. But since when do you pay attention to what you should and should not do?

“I think tutoring you is going to become increasingly more difficult.”

He pauses, his pencil still in his hand as he meets your gaze. “Why’s that? Because of the material? I feel like I’m actually doing pretty well.”

“No, idiot. Because, well…” Jesus, you never really know what to say in these situations. “Things are different between us now, you know?”

“It’s not that different.”

You can tell by the face he’s making that he’s teasing you. “It is! Don’t make me feel stupid.”

“You’re the one calling me an idiot!”

“It’s a term of endearment.”

“How sweet.” Wooseok shifts in his seat, turning towards you and placing his arm across the back of your chair. “So you’re flirting with me?”

“That may or may not be true.”

His fingers brush gently over your shoulder as he silently watches you, letting the air between you thicken with the thought that it would be so easy to close the gap.

Really, there’s nothing stopping you anyway.

“Wooseok… Have you done something like this before?” You ask before you convince yourself to cross the threshold. “Being friends with benefits and all of that?”

“No, actually.” Wooseok’s fingers reach your collar bone, delicately tracing the peaks and valleys. “I don’t have much experience with girls. I had a girlfriend in high school, but that’s it.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Dating’s not my priority.”

“Is this something you want, though?”

“Well yeah. I probably said it when I was drunk, but you’re really cool and you’re hot, so of course I’m down. This is totally different from dating.” He tilts his head minutely. “Have you done this before?”

Almost instantly, an image of Professor Yang flashes in your mind. “Not technically a friends with benefits situation, but I have hooked up before.”

“How’d it go? Were you okay with keeping it casual?”

Big fat fucking no, you were not okay with keeping it casual. Well, maybe you would have been if he hadn’t turned out to be your teacher. Things might have been so different. But the fact of the matter is that you’ve been an absolute wreck for the last two months because of your failure to keep it casual.

You’re fully aware of the fact that you should be honest about your hookup history. You should tell Wooseok that you most definitely caught feelings the last time you hooked up. It’s your duty to stop this trainwreck before it happens.

But… that means that you wouldn’t be able to hookup with Wooseok. And you really want to hookup with Wooseok right now.

“Yeah, it was totally fine,” you lie through your teeth. “No problems at all.”

“Cool.” He reaches out to cup your face. “Let’s stop talking about it then.”

As if they have always belonged together, your lips meet his. The kiss is sweet and gentle, and his hand is warm on your cheek. It feels so, so good to give in to your urges, to do what you want instead of overthinking. A friends-with-benefits situation is exactly what you need.

You don’t stay in your chair much longer as you continue to kiss. His lap is a much more appealing seat. Without pulling away from his lips, you get up and straddle him, your hands sliding behind his neck. 

Wooseok’s teeth bite down on your lip and his large hands are quick to venture into less innocent territory. His fingers slip down your sides and into the back pockets of your jeans, cupping your ass and giving a gentle squeeze. You roll your hips to show him that you’re pleased, and he lets out the quietest groan.

“Be careful moving your hips like that,” he warns against your lips, “or you’re signing yourself up for a whole lot of trouble.”

You smirk and roll your hips again as you say, “Maybe I want trouble.”

He responds by claiming your lips, his tongue diving deep into the cavern of your mouth as his fingers dig hard into your ass cheeks. 

You feel so alive. And so blissful - especially as you feel him start to harden through his jeans. The extra friction provided by rubbing against his thickness is absolutely delicious, and you shamelessly grind against him.

It’s clear that Wooseok is enjoying himself, too. He kisses you deeply as you grind, and his hand sneaks under your shirt, pushing your bra out of the way so that he can pinch and rub your nipple. 

You moan for him, careful to stay quiet - the sound proofing in the practice rooms isn’t perfect, after all. But you sigh and groan to let him know that you feel amazing and you love everything he’s doing to you. You would be totally content to just stay like this for the rest of your session, and it doesn’t seem like Wooseok would mind.

Unfortunately, though, you know this can’t last forever - you have to leave soon for your piano lesson. But he’s just such a good kisser…

You’re not sure what causes it, but suddenly the mood changes. His hurried kisses and touches melt into something much softer. Wooseok’s hand migrates to the small of your back, pulling you in close and embracing you as he kisses you. 

It’s mind-numbingly sweet, and you hold him tight, too.

With one last kiss, you part, but you rest your forehead on his as you catch your breath and try to process how he could be such a phenomenal kisser.

“What are you doing after this?” Wooseok asks, his voice low - and you know exactly why he’s asking.

“Piano lesson,” you huff quietly.

“Skip it.” Kiss. “Come back to my place.”

“Ugh, I wish. But I can’t. My lessons are important.” Your fingers glide through his soft hair, your gaze connecting with his sweet eyes. “What about tonight?”

Wooseok shakes his head as his fingers drum a rhythm against your spine. “Minho’s having some guys over. Tomorrow?”

“Girl’s night with my roommate.” You sigh. Who knew it would be so difficult to find time to hook up?

“I’m pretty sure Minho said he was going out of town this weekend, so we’d definitely have the place to ourselves.”

That sounds like a blessedly perfect scenario. “I have a thing with Kino on Saturday, but I could come over later that night?”

“Stellar. I’ll make sure Minho is out of the apartment.” Wooseok presses another kiss to your lips before helping you stand up. “You should probably get going though, since you have your lesson. Right?”

You glance at the clock on the wall and realize you have exactly thirty seconds to get downstairs. “Shit. Yeah, I have to run.”

Wooseok helps you gather your things. “I’ll see you Saturday night then?”

You hoist your backpack onto your shoulder and run a finger down Wooseok’s torso. “You bet.”

***

“Remind me why we’re doing this,” you grumble as you follow Nailah and Shinhye through the gym locker room on Saturday morning. Being physically active has never been your favorite thing, yet Nailah has managed to drag you along.

“Cute boy. You love cute boys, don’t you?” Nailah turns, tucking you under her arm and leading you over to the row of lockers. “This is all for you, baby.”

“But whyyyyy…”

“_____, exercising is good for you.” Shinhye tries to boost your morale as you each claim a locker, tossing your gym bags but keeping your water bottles in hand. “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“Since when have you become such a gym rat? Little Miss I-Live-On-The-Couch.” You tease her. She never seems to be interested in working out, but she looks like a total natural in her mid-calf leggings and moisture-wicking tank top.

She shrugs, touching the outer rim of her glasses to push them further up her nose. “I don’t know, I just go when Nailah invites me. And I think it’s actually pretty fun.”

“Yeah, Shinhye’s a great gym partner. She doesn’t complain.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring Nailah. “So have you seen this cute guy, then? Is it worth the effort?”

Shinhye shakes her head. “We’ve never seen him when I come along.”

“Okay, hold on.” You close your locker, realizing that this mystery cutie hasn’t been spotted in quite some time. “Are you telling me that it has probably been, like, a month and a half since you last saw him? Does he even go to this gym anymore?”

Nailah sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t know, _____. But we’re here now, so we may as well sweat a little.” She lifts her shirt up over her head, so she’s just in her spandex shorts and a sports bra. The shirt gets tossed into her locker and she holds out her hand to you. “Give me your shirt.”

“What?”

“Do it. We’re gonna go out there looking hot so you can seduce cute guy.”

“He’s probably not even out there!”

“Come on. It’s not even a big deal.” She gestures for you to hand her your shirt, and you begrudgingly do as she asks. 

“What about you, Shinhye?” You ask as your shirt disappears into Nailah’s locker.

Her face reddens. “Isn’t it weird to just wear a bra?”

“Not at all,” Nailah reassures her, closing her locker and patting Shinhye on the head as she walks away. “But don’t worry, my little Shinhye doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

You notice Shinhye’s eyes grow wide and her blush deepen, and look at her quizzically. What the hell is that reaction all about? She just avoids your gaze and tails after Nailah.

As you follow them into the equipment room, you try not to feel embarrassed about your lack of shirt. It’s not that unusual for a girl to work out in just her bra and shorts, but you don’t feel particularly confident since you are bound to make a fool out of yourself on the machines, anyway.

The three of you head for the stationary bikes on the opposite side of the room, scoping out all of the other gym-goers along the way. When you reach the bikes, Nailah turns on her heel and pulls you and Shinhye in close.

“Don’t make it obvious, but he’s here. He’s at the bench press.”

What are the odds that he would actually be here today? You take a swig from your water bottle before setting it next to one of the bikes and casually turning around to try to spot him.

Shinhye finds him first. “Oh my God. Him?” She bursts into laughter. “Nailah, you don’t know who that is, do you?”

“Should I?”

“He teaches at our school! _____ and I are both in his class!”

“What?!” You and Nailah respond simultaneously, both for different reasons. Is it really him?

Your eyes scan over the weight machines, and just as you spot the row of bench presses, he sits up and wipes the sweat from his brow with a hand towel.

Fucking Professor Yang is sitting halfway across the room, biceps bulging, a delicious V of sweat forming on the chest of his muscle shirt. 

God, you wish you could just melt into a puddle and disappear from this world.

“No way.” Nailah chuckles. “He’s a Professor? Oh, this is gold.”

Shinhye starts giggling, too. “Yeah, and _____ totally has a crush on him. You should have seen them in class this week.”

“Well just look at her now.”

You finally snap out of your trance. “I do not!”

“No shame, girl.” Nailah smirks as she settles onto a bike. “We’ve all had an innocent crush on a teacher before.”

Oh, if only she knew how not innocent this was.

“Yeah, no shame.” Shinhye chimes, climbing onto the bike next to Nailah.

“Whatever. Shouldn’t we stretch first?” You quickly change the subject. You’re going to spend the rest of this hour pretending like the world’s most handsome professor isn’t over there keeping up his gorgeous physique with which you are unfortunately quite familiar. 

“It’s bad to stretch cold, so we do an easy five-minute ride just to get things warmed up a bit.” Nailah states.

“Alright, then.” 

So you bike, stretch, and tackle a few machines - and you’re incredibly aware of the fact that Nailah’s routine is strategically getting you closer and closer to wherever Professor Yang is stationed. 

You trail along behind her from machine to machine, and next thing you know you’re headed straight for him.

As the three of you approach, you hope and pray that he doesn’t notice you. And when you look over, you’re blessed. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and lifts it to wipe his face, but you’re too distracted by his abs to be grateful for his blocked view of you.

Professor Yang is absolutely chiseled under his muscle shirt, and you shouldn’t even be surprised. You’ve seen him shirtless before, you’ve felt the ripples of his muscles, but you’re still taken off guard by the body that hides beneath his clothes.

The glimpse of his abs is so distracting that you actually forget how you’re supposed to act around him. He drops his shirt and looks up just as you’re passing him, and you unintentionally flash him a coy smile. When his eyes widen as he recognizes you, you realize that you do not want to try to look cute right now. 

Well, you want to, but you shouldn’t.

Somehow that doesn’t stop you.

Professor Yang’s eyes travel down your body, taking in your shirtless state. But you don’t feel shy or nervous - you feel weirdly confident, and you walk with a little extra sass in the swing of your hips. You hope with all of your might that he’s as flustered by the sight of you as you always are by him. 

If your appearance gets to him at all, he certainly doesn’t make it known. Without any hint of what he might be feeling, he gets up and moves to a different machine farther down the row, and he doesn’t look back at you again.

Thankfully, it seems that Nailah and Shinhye did not notice anything that just happened, but you feel suddenly embarrassed about strutting past him the way you did. You need to step out for a second and collect yourself.

“I’m going to grab some more water.” You hold up your mostly empty water bottle for the two girls to see and tear off before either one of them can offer to come along.

That was so dumb. Why did you react that way when he saw you? You know better. You should be avoiding him at all costs, because you’re getting over him. You’ve got Wooseok to keep you entertained now, so you can finally let go of Professor Yang.

He just looked so good… and you want the confidence boost of knowing he thinks you look good, too.

But the thing is, though, you know that he thinks you look good. He’s made it kind of obvious throughout the semester that he’s still attracted to you, so you’re positive that he must have felt something when he saw you in your tight leggings and sports bra. He’s just really good at masking it.

You fill up your bottle and take a sip from it as you turn around, and you accidentally bump into a warm, solid body that immediately fills you with dread.

“_____.”

You’re surprised by the face you see when you look up - this is not the human you were expecting. “Yuto?”

He has a black bandana rolled up and tied across his forehead, and honestly it’s a look. Yuto hardly gives you so much as a smile before his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, gently pushing you aside so he can access the water fountain.

“I didn’t know you worked out here.”

He stands upright after taking a leisurely drink, looking you up and down. “I didn’t know you worked out. Wouldn’t have guessed it.”

“Don’t be rude, asshole.” You huff, stalking off towards the weight room. You don’t need to deal with him if he’s going to be a jerk.

“Hey, wait.” Yuto catches up to you, matching your stride. “I just meant that I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Yeah. Roommate dragged me along.”

“Nailah, right?” He points off to the left, and your eyes follow to that part of the room. Nailah’s hands rest on Shinhye’s hips, guiding your friend into the correct form for squats. You frown, worried about what that could mean.

If she’s starting to crush on Shinhye, she really needs to cut it out before she gets herself hurt. Shinhye’s straight - she’s not going to reciprocate any of Nailah’s feelings. And really, Nailah needs to make sure she’s not making Shinhye uncomfortable by being too forward with her flirting.

“That’s her.” You can’t help your frown as you beeline for them. 

“Wait, wait.” Yuto grabs your arm. “I need to talk to you.”

Surprised, you pause. “What about?”

“Wooseok.”

Your frown deepens. Does he know about your agreement? “What about Wooseok?”

“Be careful with him. He’s a kid.”

“We’re the same age...? What are you getting at?”

“He’s naive, okay?” Yuto looks frustrated that you don’t understand what he’s trying to say. “Just try not to hurt him. He’s a lot more delicate than he seems. He told me about you two, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s none of your business what we decide to do.” You scoff. “But yeah, okay, I’m the Big Bad Meanie here so I’ll be ‘gentle’ or whatever.”

Yuto’s voice noticeably softens when he realizes you’re upset. “_____…”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you.” You brush off his hand. “Have a good workout.”

You stomp back over to your friends, and they both watch you quizzically as you approach. 

“What was that all about?” Nailah asks.

“It’s nothing.” Your first instinct is to just dismiss all of it, but these are two of your best friends. They deserve to know at least a little bit of the boy drama in your life - but you don’t want to spill the tea in the middle of the gym. “I’ll fill you in later.”

Shinhye chimes in, “Professor Yang left while you were gone. We thought you might run into him out there.”

“No, I didn’t see him. Just Yuto.”

“Who’s Yuto?” She asks. “The guy you were just talking to?”

Nailah responds for you, nodding. “He’s our neighbor, right across the hall.”

“Oh.” Shinhye chews timidly on the inside of her cheek. “He’s kind of cute, too.”

“Shinhye! I didn’t know you liked dark, brooding boys.” Nailah reaches out to smooth Shinhye’s hair, and Shinhye blushes.

“Apparently you really don’t know her type, Nailah.” There’s a slight edge to your voice as you say it. It’s just so weird to see Nailah being so forward with Shinhye, and you feel the need to stop it. Shinhye isn’t particularly vocal, so she probably won’t say anything if she’s feeling uncomfortable.

Seems like you’ll have to have a chat with Nailah later.

***

Kino meets you in your dorm’s lobby at exactly 6:15pm. Doors open for the dance department showcase in fifteen minutes, and you can sense the energy bubbling out of him when he arrives.

“Hi.” He bounces slightly, standing still for a moment before pulling you into a hug.

“Hi,” you echo, a small smile spreading across your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous. Oh my God, I’m nervous. But let’s not talk about that because I’ll literally die before the show.”

“My CPR skills aren’t exactly stellar, so I guess we should probably do what we can to keep you alive before that becomes necessary.”

“Good call.” He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the building and into the brisk night air. “You look really nice, by the way.”

“Thank you!” You look down at yourself, taking a second to button up your jacket over the burgundy dress and black tights you’ve chosen for the evening. Your heels click along the sidewalk as you walk, and then you realize how Kino is dressed; his burgundy pants didn’t immediately draw your attention, but you have to laugh at the coincidence now that you’ve noticed. “Oh my God, are we actually matching?”

Kino nods, laughing. “Yeah, we are.”

So this is what it feels like to wear a couple’s outfit... Obviously you’re not a couple, but it’s still kind of cute that you’ve got similar tastes in clothes.

Kino is oddly quiet as you make your way towards the theater, and you know it’s just because of his nerves. You speak up to try to distract him. “Is your family coming tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t invite them.”

“Oh.” That surprises you. “Why not? This is a big deal. I’m sure they’d love to be here.”

“I don’t really want to talk about that right now.” Kino frowns slightly, clearly bothered by the topic.

Has something happened? He never really talks about his family, so you don’t know what his relationship with them is like. 

Wait - he has talked about them before. You remember the first night you talked to him after R&B Ensemble practice, when you both bonded over your unsupportive parents. How could you be careless enough to forget something like that? Are you really that distracted by your own life?

“I’m sorry, Kino. I shouldn’t have brought that up.” You link your arm with his. “I’m here to support you no matter what.”

“Thanks, _____.” He smiles slightly. “And no worries. It’s fine.”

To keep the mood light, you chat with him about your excursion to the gym this morning, leaving out the parts about Professor Yang, of course. Mostly, you just complain about how you have to use the baby weights because everything else is too heavy.

Thankfully you can keep him chuckling until you’re seated in the theater and the lights go down, signaling the start of the show. That’s when the terror sets in - Kino takes a deep, nervous breath, and his leg bounces wildly as the first performers step on stage. His piece isn’t until a little later on in the show, but you know he’s going to feel anxious until then.

Normally it doesn’t bother you when someone else bounces their leg, but his movement shakes your chair and you don’t want to sit through the whole show like that. Without even thinking about it, you place your hand on his thigh, squeezing gently to grab his attention. His movement stalls and he stares at you wide-eyed.

You lean in so he can hear you whisper over the music. “It’s gonna be great, okay? Everyone’s going to love your piece.”

Kino’s gaze flits between your eyes, and it occurs to you just how close your faces are. Then his hand covers yours, and he smiles. “I was right to bring you along.”

His attention returns to the stage and he seems much calmer now, but you struggle to focus on the dancers. Your whole consciousness is alert to the fact that his hand is so warm and secure around yours, and for some reason that makes your heart beat just a little bit faster.

All rational thought goes out the window. When the first performance ends, you don’t want to let his hand go. Kino notices the way you cling to his hand when he tries to let go to clap, and he gives you a funny look - not one of judgment, but one of curiosity.

You’re immediately embarrassed, so you let go and hurriedly clap before the applause ends. 

It’s fine. You’re just friends. Friends can hold hands. It’s seriously not a big deal - worst case scenario, Kino’s just going to tease you a little bit after the showcase. You do your best to shake it off.

But then the applause ends, and Kino places his hand on your lap, palm up. It’s an invitation, and his smile makes it so that you cannot refuse. You interlace your fingers with his, your heart beating happily in your chest.

You don’t know what it means, or if it even means anything. But you’ll sort it out later.

That becomes your routine, your hands letting go only to clap between pieces and then quickly returning to each other. It feels foreign yet completely comfortable, exciting yet confusing. 

And then he squeezes your hand tightly and leans over, whispering in your ear, “This one is mine.”

For just a brief second you think he’s talking about your hand, but then you realize that he means his piece is next. Your cheeks flush because of the way you misunderstood him, but you pretend that didn’t just happen and whisper back, “I can’t wait.”

A delicate piano melody guides the two male dancers on stage, but it isn’t until the lyrics kick in that you realize just how mournful the performance is going to be.

“Don’t know where I am with you Forgetting time and space with you Oh I wish we had a common view You see my red as blue I don’t belong in your universe For better or for worse…”

The dancers move fluidly across the stage, embodying the story of two people - maybe lovers, maybe friends - who want to be together despite the invisible force that’s keeping them apart.

“I’m the same but I’m bolder You get home, but I’m on my way out now Not the same destinations I will stay when you get off the train…”

No, they don’t want to be together. It’s not mutual - you see that now, how one dancer is caught in the other dancer’s world and he is trying to break free. Is this an abusive relationship?

“You’re safe as a mountain But know that I am dynamite Oh, oh, you’re safe as a mountain But know that I am dynamite…”

The pieces come together, and it suddenly makes sense. Maybe you’re making a huge assumption, but you can’t help but think that this is the story of Kino’s relationship with his family.

It moves you to tears, and you struggle to keep your composure. It feels like you’re watching a little piece of Kino’s soul through these dancers, and it’s devastating to think that someone as sweet and gentle as Kino would ever be caught in such a terrible situation. He deserves so much better than that. He deserves a family that loves him.

When the performance ends the whole audience applauds, but you can only look at Kino as he wipes away his tears, a melancholy smile on his lips. 

***

Kino walks you back to your dorm, and you stop just outside the front door. You haven’t said much since the performance because he was immediately bombarded by other students and professors coming up to congratulate him. But now, you finally have his undivided attention.

“Your piece was absolutely beautiful,” you gently praise him. “I think you’re incredibly talented to draw that much emotion out of the audience. Seriously, it was incredible.”

“Thank you.” He looks down, his soft voice accompanied by a shy smile. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you came with me tonight. Thank you so much for being there to support me.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Kino.” You pull him in for a hug, feeling proud of him and also feeling much closer to him than you were before. 

When you pull away, he asks, “Do you want to maybe come over for a little bit? Just to hang out?”

That would be nice, but you remember your plans with Wooseok. For some reason, though, it doesn’t feel right to tell Kino about that. “Ah, I can’t. I told Nailah I’d spend time with her tonight.”

You immediately feel guilty about the lie, but Kino isn’t bothered by your excuse. “Have fun with her, then.”

He reaches out, his hand gliding down your forearm until his fingers interlace with yours. You look down at your intertwined hands, your pulse quickening just as it did in the theater. You’re not sure why you react that way. And then you feel the soft press of lips on your forehead.

Did…? Did Kino just…?

You look up at him, shocked. He had just kissed you. What was that all about?

His eyes scan your face, the sweetest, gentlest smile on his lips. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You nod, still kind of confused and surprised by what just happened. But he walks off before you can really process it, and you just stand there like an idiot for a minute or two.

Reading into it is probably the worst thing you could do. Kino is a touchy guy, so it shouldn’t seem unusual for him to kiss you on the forehead. It’s just a sweet, friendly gesture, right? He probably doesn’t mean anything by it, so you shouldn’t assume he does.

The last thing you want is to make things weird. He’s a great friend, and you don’t want to lose him. So you’re not going to make a big deal out of this.

Desperate for a distraction, you pull your phone out as you head inside. A few texts from Wooseok are waiting for you, just as you had expected.

Wooseok (8:13pm): Still want to come over?

Wooseok (8:13pm): Minho just left and won’t be back until tomorrow

You respond.

You (9:02pm): Of course. Just got back. Give me 10 to freshen up and I’ll be over.

Wooseok (9:02pm): I’ll give you 5

You (9:03pm): 7?

Wooseok (9:03pm): 6.5 starting now. 

Wooseok (9:04pm): see u soon, short stuff 😘

***

You make it to his place in exactly seven minutes because you’re a glutton for punishment, but you think you’ve devised a plan to help you earn back his favor.

“You’re late.” He greets you at the door to his apartment.

“But I brought a gift.” You try your best to look cute as you hide the small ‘present’ behind your back. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

He looks suspicious, but he smiles slightly as he does what you ask. Into his large palms, you place the panties you’ve been wearing all day. If Minseo has taught you anything, it’s that men go crazy for a girl in a dress with nothing on underneath.

“You said you wanted to keep them, so these are for you.”

Wooseok’s eyes shoot open as he realizes it’s silky, lacy fabric puddled in his hands. He looks at them with a sly smile. “Are you wearing any right now?”

You just smile coyly and shake your head. Success.

“Christ, woman, get in here.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, letting the door slam shut behind you. You don’t even have time to kick off your shoes before he picks you up, your legs naturally wrapping around his hips to hold yourself up.

Wooseok’s lips crash into yours like he can’t stand the thought of waiting one more second. He’s way too eager, but you could never complain. You love feeling so wanted.

He presses you against the wall and you lace your fingers into his hair, tugging gently as you bite his lower lip. A deep growl vibrates in his throat, and it immediately shoots pleasure straight to your core.

You let yourself moan as you feverishly return every kiss he offers. You just can’t get enough of him, and it’s making you crazy. 

For just a second you pull away, but only because you need more. “Bedroom?” you pant.

Wooseok nods and carries you deeper into the apartment, throwing open the door to the bedroom and dropping you onto the bed.

“Hey! I’m not a doll!” You lecture him, but you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. “Don’t toss me around like that.”

Wooseok just ignores you. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” His long fingers immediately find the buttons of your jacket, fiddling with one after the other until he pulls it off of you.

“It’s freezing outside! What did you expect? That I’d run across the street without a jacket on just so it would be easier for you to strip me? It’s bad enough that I came over without my tights on.”

“I mean… You probably would have gotten here when I asked you to if you hadn’t stopped to put a jacket on.” Wooseok runs his fingers over your bare thighs. “But next time, keep the tights on. They’re hot.”

“You’d like that?”

“Yeah, but you’re hot like this, too.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “You’d be hotter with your shirt off, if it counts for anything.”

“Sassy,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. Still hovering over you, he grabs the back of his collar and easily pulls the t-shirt over his head.

You’re right - you definitely like him better without the shirt. His torso and arms are nicely toned, and he just looks so good. Even his face is somehow more attractive than it’s ever been, and you know you’ve made the right choice in coming over here tonight.

You touch his cheek, and you can sense the depth behind his irises as his eyes scan your face. He’s fully present, and you just want to live in this moment with him.

“Why do you have to look at me like that?” he asks.

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know, you’re just fucking cute.” Wooseok dives in, laying you back onto the bed as his lips connect with yours. His hand starts at your neck and runs down over your arm before transferring to your hip, his kiss overwhelming your senses. Everything about him feels so good, so nice.

As you wrap your limbs around him, you remember what Yuto said to you at the gym this morning.

Be gentle with him.

Try not to hurt him.

Even though it’s none of Yuto’s business, you can’t help but keep his warnings in mind. The last thing you want to do is hurt Wooseok. This is all supposed to be harmless fun, after all.

You press a hand to his chest, silently asking him to stop kissing you.

“You good?” Wooseok asks, concerned.

“Yeah! I just wanted to make sure… You’re totally cool with this, right? Like, with us just being friends and doing this for fun? This isn’t going to make anything weird, right?”

Wooseok shrugs calmly. “Yeah, it’s cool with me. I don’t mind it at all and I promise I won’t get weird around you. You cool?”

You nod. “I’m cool with it. I just needed to know we were still on the same page. I, um, ran into Yuto today…”

“Shit, did he say something?”

“He told me to be careful with you. Like he thought I was going to break your heart or something.” You search his eyes. “Also, not cool that you told him about us. I thought this was going to be a private thing.”

Wooseok closes his eyes, sighing quietly. “I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. He’s my best friend and I tell him everything. I didn’t even think about it.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t go telling the rest of the school, okay?” You chuckle quietly, not quite realizing how much you sound like a certain Professor asking someone to keep things a secret.

“I won’t breathe a word of it to anybody else. I promise.” He smiles. “And don’t worry, I’m not gonna catch feelings.”

“Okay, I’m going to trust you on that. But if either one of us starts to feel something, we have to be honest and stop. Deal?”

“Deal. But, not gonna happen. You can’t lock me down, woman.”

You roll your eyes. “You can lock me down, tie me up, whatever you’re into…”

Wooseok lowers himself onto you again with a devilish grin. “You’re bad.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“Probably just get you naked and plow you into tomorrow.”

Laughter bursts from you and you can’t control yourself. “Did you really just say that?”

He laughs too, never one to take himself too seriously. “Yeah, I think I did. That was pretty awful.”

You slide your fingers into his hair and pull him down to you, crashing your lips together now that your concerns are alleviated. Your body is already aching for release and you’ve hardly even started.

Wooseok’s large hands roam your body, gliding over your curves and massaging your chest. Your fingers trail down his back and the groan he emits is absolutely precious. It feels like it has been ages since you’ve gotten laid and suddenly you’re starving for it.

Every kiss fuels the fire burning deep within you, your core throbbing with want. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you wiggle your hips in search of some sort of friction. 

Wooseok gets the message loud and clear. His hand glides under the skirt of your dress in search of your folds, which are already delightfully wet by the time he reaches them. Even though you’re more than ready, he teases you, taking his time to caress your most sensitive spot. 

A quiet moan escapes you, and you reach down between your bodies in search of his length. You just have to know what it feels like, what kind of fun you should expect for the rest of the night.

Your fingers brush over the front of his jeans until you find an unmistakable bulge, and he sighs deeply as you pass over it. The sound is actually really hot, and you know instantly that you need to get him naked. 

“Take off your pants,” you murmur against his lips, your fingers already working to unfasten his jeans. You get the button and zipper of his pants undone, and he steps out of his pants and boxers all at once.

Seeing Wooseok naked is both weird and thrilling, and you realize how incredibly sober you are. The last time you were here in his apartment, you were both a little drunk. But this time you’re not inebriated in the least bit.

You definitely don’t need any alcohol to be convinced that you should have sex with this man right the fuck now.

“Condom?” You seriously hope that he has some, because you definitely didn’t think to bring one over.

“Yeah, hold up.” He opens the top drawer of his dresser and pulls out a rubber from his stash.

You pull him back down onto the bed as soon as he’s within reach, and he chuckles at your eagerness. You climb on top of him, kissing him passionately and wrapping your hand around his cock. 

“I don’t want to wait,” you whine as you stroke him. He’s already incredibly hard, and he’s just the perfect size for you. Usually you would insist that foreplay is a good idea, but you are way too impatient at the moment. “I want you inside of me.”

“Then stop waiting.”

Wooseok tears open the condom packet and rolls it on, and you lift yourself up, lining him up with your entrance. 

You let out a slightly strained breath as you slide down onto him, your walls stretching around his girth as you finally fill yourself with his cock. You unfortunately have to take it easy since you completely skipped the foreplay bit, but you slowly rock your hips, indulging in every bit of pleasure even the smallest movements bring you.

Eventually you’re able to increase your speed, and you lean back, helping his cock hit just the right spot inside of you, the spot that you know will leave you blinded with ecstasy. 

You don’t even realize that you’re still in your dress until Wooseok’s hand pushes your skirt back, bunching it at your hip as you ride him. “Lemme see.”

He fixates on the place where your bodies connect, his gaze full of lust. The sight of him beneath you only serves to turn you on more, and it only gets more perfect when his thumb grazes over your clit.

“Oh my God, yes,” you murmur, placing a hand behind you to hold yourself up as you lean back more. Between Wooseok’s touch and the angle of his cock, you felt yourself very quickly becoming unraveled.

Wooseok’s fingers dig into your hip, his cock sliding deliciously in and out of you. Your walls contract tightly around him as you work yourself up, entirely obsessed with the beautiful pleasure pulsing through you. 

“I’m… so close…” You moan for him. “Please, keep going. Don’t change a thing.”

He groans softly. “Already, baby?”

“It feels good,” your voice is absolutely blissful. “Count down from five. Slowly.”

It’s something you like to do when you masturbate - you’ve practiced orgasming on demand because there’s something you absolutely love about forcing yourself to hold off right when you’re ready to explode.

Wooseok doesn’t question. He just keeps rubbing circles into your clit, and he counts. “Five.”

Your chest is already growing warm, your abdomen tight. 

“Four.”

You force yourself to take deep breaths, but they’re littered with moans.

“Three.”

Your pussy swells with pleasure, hot and electric.

“Two.”

“Fuck!” You can barely keep yourself together. “Please please please…”

“One, baby-”

“Oh!” 

You don’t just explode - you burst like a fucking broken dam. Ecstasy overwhelms you as you unintentionally squirt all over Wooseok’s stomach. You’re an absolute gushing mess for him, but you’re too caught up in your pleasure to care. Your whole body feels bathed in sunshine and you’re convinced there is no better feeling than this.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You’re brought back to reality when Wooseok finally speaks up. He looks absolutely shocked by what just happened, and you realize that you didn’t give him any sort of warning that you might soak him.

Panicked, you apologize. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up, you’re so fucking hot.”

Wooseok sits up and pulls you to him, kissing you more roughly than ever. You eagerly return each kiss, grateful that he’s not upset like you originally thought. 

“Wooseok,” you smile against his lips at what you’re about to say. “I think now’s the time to get me naked and plow me into tomorrow.”

He laughs loudly, and his smile is adorable. “Hell yeah.”

In no time, your dress is on the floor and Wooseok has you pinned under him. Per his request you’re lying on your stomach, and he straddles your legs. He nestles his cock between your thighs, pressing into your slit with a pleased groan. 

“Shit, you feel good.” He holds himself up on his forearms, and his lips find your shoulder as he thrusts into you. He starts slow but very quickly picks up the pace until you’re both panting.

You lift your hips as much as you can to meet him, your fingers deftly working your clit. A second orgasm is definitely feasible at this rate, but you’re not going to try to force it.

Wooseok leaves a trail of bites and sucks from your shoulder up your neck until he reaches your ear. He sucks your earlobe into his mouth, biting and toying with your earring as he pounds into you. The sensation drives you wild, and very suddenly you crash into another orgasm.

A weird half-squeak, half-moan comes out of you as you dissolve beneath him, and you hear a strange series of noises come from Wooseok, too. He starts to laugh, but it’s strained and broken up by strangled, awkward moans as he finishes - then he collapses on top of you, shaking with laughter.

You know he’s definitely laughing at the sound you made, and you’re definitely laughing at the way he just laughed through his orgasm. It’s just such a drastic change of mood, and it’s absolutely endearing the way he clutches onto you as he laughs.

Wooseok is everything you thought he might be in bed, and it doesn’t even phase you that your hookup ended in a less-than-hot circumstance. How could you be bothered when you’re laughing this hard?

Something about the laughter makes his embrace feel exceptionally warm. And you kind of adore that.

You feel lighter than you have in a while, even though you’re sort of being crushed by him.

“Can’t breathe!” You squeal.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, rolling off of you and onto his back. “Hey, whatever the fuck that noise was, it was super cute.”

“I could say the same about your laughing orgasm,” you retort, scooting closer to him to indulge in his warmth.

Wooseok pushes your hair back, his dark chocolate eyes locking with yours. “It’s your fault I laughed through it. I don’t know how the hell your voice even got that high.” 

Just for fun, you try to recreate the noise, reaching as high as you can through your vocal range to pull out the most ridiculous note you’re capable of. You both laugh at your attempt, and then Wooseok gives it a try - and somehow far surpasses whatever pitch you had managed.

His eyes get so wide you think they might just fall out of his head, and you laugh more hysterically than you ever have in your life. It has to be physically impossible for him to screech as high as he just did, but he succeeded!

“Wooseok, what the fuck?” It’s impossible to catch your breath, but you manage to get some words out.

“I don’t even know.” He shakes his head and shrugs, laughing right along with you.

Eventually you’re both able to calm down. Your arm is draped across his chest, and his hand glides up and down your spine in a way that soothes you. The friends-with-benefits line is a little blurred because you’re not sure if cuddling is part of that package, but as per usual you tell yourself that you’ll figure it out later. You’d rather just enjoy yourself.

“_____?” Wooseok gently breathes your name into your hair, and you prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look at him. He’s gorgeous and you don’t know how you didn’t see it before. “I’m glad you came over.”

You don’t think - you just act on instinct. Your fingers glide up to his cheek and you lean down to kiss him. Wooseok’s lips are warm and soft, and the kiss is sensual and provocative and...

And it melts deep into your heart, lighting you up from head to toe.

It stirs up every romantic thought that you know you shouldn’t have about him.

Fuck.

Post Script | Thank you for reading! Please stay tuned for Part 7.

All Rights Reserved © gwentoryfics. No translations, reposting, and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.