#i need a distraction from my dissertation and university hell

[louferrignojrofficial]

i need something new to waste all my time and energy on. 911 is gonna go on hiatus soon anyways, and i’m not really interested in the hotshots storyline they’re doing next episode, or to find out what’s happening in 8x08.

none of the shows everyone else is watching are interesting to me. and my brain hates me so it won’t let me turn my phone off despite everyone being sad or coming up with hopeful theories that my pessimist brain can’t accept.

[bosspigeon]

a space between the shadows

My VERY last-minute prompt fill for @wayhavensummer, which turned into YET ANOTHER character study of my Sad Werewolf Detective~ Prompt: 🌈First Pride, Belonging Pairing: Adam/Male Detective, Bonus Found Family Vibes~ Words: 2137 Summary: Arlo has some... complex feelings around his identity, his relationship with his closest friend, and who he is supposed to be in a place like Wayhaven. CW for allusions to homophobia, slurs, and implications of religious trauma/bigotry

Seeing as someone actually bothered to submit paperwork this time, Arlo feels it’s safe to assume there will be no (or at least fewer) strange supernatural occurrences involved in this festival. Still, he’s not sure what to make of it.

“I don’t… have to go, do I?” he asks Tina.

Tina blinks slowly at him, as if he’s suddenly become the stupidest creature to ever draw breath. “Yes,” she says simply.

“I’m just a detective, and it’s Wayhaven, it won’t be anything crazy, so I don’t have to be there to keep things—”

“Oh, no, of course not,” she interjects, well acquainted with his nervous babbling by now. He’s barely exhaled his relieved sigh when she leans her elbows on his desk and grins in his face. “We’re going in a purely civilian capacity.”

“But I don’t want to,” he says quietly, and he knows he sounds like a pouty little kid, but he can’t help it.

Tina pouts mockingly right back at him. “I don’t care.”

And that sort of sums up their entire relationship, he thinks.

Adam, of course, is about as pleased as Arlo is. Unfortunately, Adam has not yet learned what Arlo knew by sixteen— that there is no force in the known universe more powerful than Tina Poname's stubbornness. She simply can't be defeated.

"She's a little bisexual juggernaut," Arlo sighs. He's annoyed, sure, but he can't keep the fondness from his tone as he watches her swan back and forth from the safety of the sitting room.

Naturally, Tina and Felix get on like a house on fire, and the two of them have commandeered Arlo's studio. The floor is a minefield of water cups, washable paint, and drying posters. Felix has Tina's flag tied around his neck like a cape.

Mason disappeared the second the first tube of paint was popped open, though his sharpy retort of "I like what I like" when Tina asked what his persuasion was (so that she could make him a poster as well) did launch her into her practiced dissertation on the intricacies of bi and pan identities, and how they mean similar things, how at their core neither are meant to be exclusive, and it is simply a matter of personal identity and choice which one suits an individual best.

"Have you been to a Pride festival before?" Nate asks, setting down two mugs of tea on Arlo's coffee table, carefully out of the way of the map of Wayhaven he and Adam are poring over. More for Adam's peace of mind than anything. It's mostly taking place in the local park, and while there will be a parade, the route is short enough to keep things contained.

"Yeah, once," Arlo says with a shrug, and he and Adam are sitting close enough on the sofa for their shoulders to brush with the motion. "When I was at uni."

Nate hums and sits down in the armchair across from them. "I assume it was… unpleasant for you?"

Arlo smiles, flustered, and rubs at the back of his neck. "It was fine. Fun, even. I mean, I went to art school, so the turnout was great. Nerve-wracking, yeah, because so many people, but seeing your anthropology professor riding a mechanical bull in little more than nipple pasties is one hell of a distraction."

He can feel the scandalized look Adam is giving him, but he knows if he turns to meet his eyes, he'll blush all the way to his hairline, so he sips deeply from his mug instead.

Nate tilts his head, lips pursed. There's a brief twitch of amusement to them, but it settles as his brow furrows thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I don't understand. If you had a good time at the last festival you attended, why are you so hesitant to participate in one closer to home?"

Arlo looks down at his mug, thumbing at a chip in the black enamel, exposing an ellipse of white ceramic underneath. The silence is heavy, and he knows if he lets it go on too long, Nate's going to start apologizing, so he sighs hard through his nose before he barrels on. "It's… it's different here. Back at school, I wasn't… I wasn't the Detective's weird brat. I was just Priestley, the weird performing arts major." He picks a little harder at his mug. "Might sound odd, but I didn't have to perform there, not the way I do here. I could just be Arlo. Not a shadow. Just… the fuckoff huge goth from your sociology lecture hall who just so happens to like men."

He doesn't look up, but he can tell Nate is chewing over the information. As he considers, Adam shifts on the sofa, closing the bare inch of space between them so their thighs press together. Arlo peeks up, and Adam's giving him that look. The one that makes him go all soft around the edges. "I know small towns can be… conservative," he begins, and his mouth twists distastefully around the word. "But I have never gotten the impression that Wayhaven was…"

"Anything but refreshingly progressive," Nate finishes for him.

Arlo looks up with a wry smile. "Yeah, no, it's great on that front. I'm damned lucky I didn't have to grow up with Rebecca's family. It's just…" He shifts his weight, and before he can sprout claws to really start menacing his poor mug, Adam plucks it from his hands and sets it out of the way. "There's a legacy for me here," he murmurs. "One I never asked for. Sure, I don't have to worry about getting called slurs," he chews his lip, "at least, not anymore after the whole Graham thing, but I'm still… I don't really get to be me here. People here don't look at me and see Arlo. They see Rook's kid. They see Detective Priestley the Second." He huffs out a laugh. "I didn't even get to come out on my own here. I honestly don't think I ever have outside of school. Everyone knows everything they want to know about me, because I've been a landmark since I was born. This month, it's just a landmark with a rainbow flag."

Nate is giving him that sad-eyed look he gets whenever Arlo and Rebecca get into it. The one that says he wants to help, but he's not sure how.

Arlo rubs his hands over the worn denim of his dark jeans, picking at a frayed thread. There’s a spiderweb of cracks forming in the fresh coat of black polish on his thumb where the nail has begun to thicken in response to his emotional state. He sighs a little, but he doesn’t have the time to sink too deeply into his own head, because there is a pale hand creeping cautiously over his.

“Why do it, then?” Adam asks, head tilted and brows drawn, as if he truly doesn’t understand. “Officer Poname cares deeply for you. I am sure she would understand if you were honest with her.” His lips twitch faintly, and the smile he gives Arlo is touching in its earnest, if stilted, effort. “Bisexual juggernaut or no. Though, she is only little to you.”

Arlo snickers weakly, turning his face away so he can hide behind the fall of his hair. Adam doesn’t let him hide, though, brushing it out of his face, knuckles skimming the detective’s cheekbone. Arlo can’t help but sigh and lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

There’s a crash and a cry from the other room, but it’s Nate’s startled noise that makes the two of them leap apart as if burned, putting a few inches of space between them.

Arlo’s face flushes hotly when Nate smiles at them, and there’s a mischievous twinkle to his dark eyes. “I wonder what that’s about!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together and springing to his feet. “I’ll go check on them, shall I? Make sure they’re not causing too much trouble.” And before Arlo can even stutter out a… something—an explanation, or maybe an apology for third-wheeling the poor man—Nate is striding off towards the studio with a spring in his step the detective can’t help but find incredibly mocking.

He closes the door behind him with a parting smile and a decisive click.

They’re left on the sofa sitting guiltily apart like a pair of teenagers caught canoodling, and surprisingly it’s Adam who breaks the stalemate by huffing through his nose and turning to Arlo again, reaching out for his hand and tugging it between his own. “You were saying?” he presses gently, his thumb tracing ticklish lines alone Arlo’s palm.

Arlo tilts his head and sighs “I guess I just… Tina’s like my sister, you know? And we wound up going to different universities in different cities, and I didn’t really get to share any of those big milestones with her. She’s not the type to be jealous I made other friends or went and had fun without her, but it feels sort of… I want to be able to share this with her, since she was one of the first people who ever bothered to… to not just care about me, but to care about me enough to…” He furrows his brow and chews at his lip, trying to figure out how to make sense of the feelings he’s never really been able to express out loud. “Neither of us belonged here, really. Sure, I was born here, but I never really felt like I was supposed to be here. I just felt like I was filling a space someone more important than me left vacant.”

He looks down at Adam’s hands, sturdy and strong, tangled up around his freckled, long-fingered one. He swallows. “Tina’s the one who looked at that space, then decided it wasn’t for either of us, and she carved out one that was.” He smiles fondly, thinking of the way Tina bullied her way into his lonely life and gave it some much-needed color. “She made a space where we could both fit. It was messy, and awkward, and we were still outcasts, but we were outcasts together.” He laughs, and it sounds suspiciously wet even to his own ears. Thankfully, Adam doesn’t bring attention to it. “Christ, I’m rambling. Does this make any sense at all?”

Adam is quiet, thoughtful for a moment, but he squeezes Arlo’s fingers to draw his eyes up again. He’s smiling, a real smile, one that Arlo is seeing more and more these days. A man could get addicted to a smile like that. “It does,” he murmurs, bringing Arlo’s hand to his mouth to brush a kiss to his palm. It’s such a simple little touch, it barely lasts a second, but it steals all the air from Arlo’s lungs.

Adam shifts, and his face scrunches a bit. “While I won’t say I am looking forward to the chaos, I am…” He looks up at Arlo again, his brows drawn, his jaw set with the same fierce determination with which he stares down trappers. “I am honored to share this with you.”

It is really not fair, the way he can just say things like that, things that would sound trite and cheesy coming from anyone else, with such naked honesty. Arlo has no choice but to kiss him. He’s rewarded by a sweet, startled noise rumbling against his mouth, but he draws back before they can get too distracted, seeing as their friends are just a room away. If Adam is pouting, Arlo’s certainly not going to be the one to tell him.

“I guess, in a way, it’s a first for the both of us, right?” he coughs, just to ease the heavy atmosphere a bit. “My first Pride in Wayhaven, and your first entirely.” He pokes Adam in the chest. “We’ll have to get you a flag. You look good in pastels.”

“Are you certain the rainbow is not too at odds with your aesthetic?” Adam teases in return.

“Goth is a state of mind,” Arlo replies archly.

They laugh quietly together, shifting again to close the distance between them. Adam turns to face Arlo more fully, their shoulders bumping in a way that is incredibly comforting in its charming awkwardness. “What is wrong with Agent Priestley’s family?” he asks, keeping his voice low so as not to draw the attention of their companions chattering in the other room.

Arlo tries to smile, but it comes off as more of a tense grimace. “Catholic,” he snorts.

Adam’s expression mirrors his so perfectly, Arlo has to clap a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t bark out a laugh. “Ah,” the vampire says primly. “I understand.”

Arlo gives up and collapses against the vampire, snickering helplessly into his neck.

[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.

[dingletragedy]

Ok so I have an assignment due in on Thursday for uni and I’ve barely started it!! I know you have graduated from university so I was wondering if you had any tips to motivate yourself to get the work done!!

hey lovely!!! oh god, i used to be so terrible for leaving every assignment till last minute, but when it came to my dissertation i finally got the hang of it! i’m not sure if these will help or not but here are a few tips i can think of:

- if you can, head to the university library! i used to find being at home waaay to distracting and it was so easy to put the work off there. the library is a great place to just feel motivated - like even stepping into the library you feel like you’ve done so much work, lmao! if you can’t get to the library, i’d suggest alternatively going to a coffee shop! i spent soooo many afternoons in costa and starbucks!  most chain cafes have free wifi, plenty of room to work, plugs and don’t mind you spreading your work all over the table as long as you ave a drink ectc on your table!!! 

- if you’re someone who works well with background noise, spend an hour or so creating a playlist before you get to work. pick songs that won’t distract you but will calm you. label the playlist work or x essay and only listen to it when working!!! here’s a couple of spotify playlists you can take inspiration from: revision ballards / essay writing / coffee shop

- this one might seem obvious but turn your phone/wifi/notifications off. just turn them off, even if you haven’t started working yet. you’ll get bored soon enough that’ll you be wanting to work! 

- if possible, read/watch something fun relating to your assignment topic! have a search on youtube, watch a film, read some journals! once i watched a whole series of teen mom before i started writing my essay on teen pregnancy! i wouldn’t suggest watching a whole series in the time you have left buuuut finding some joy in your topic will motivate you a hell of a lot!

 - try not to stress!!! i know its easier said than done, but stressing and thinking about the time you have left will only prolong the process. take breaks, have a bath, go on a walk, watch an episode of your favourite show, read fic - anything! just don’t over-do it, no matter what time limit you’re on! give your mind time to clear - be mindful!

- break! it! down! start with the basics. write a plan, hand-write a plan - handwriting the basics always helped me, making spider-diagrams and posters or little flash-cards! having it on paper before you, all made sense of, will help your essay writing flow once you’ve got started. then highlight your subtitles, mark out bullet-points of what is going in which paragraph etc. having a structure is key!

- wake up early and make a start. it’s much, much harder to start working when half of the day has already passed. it just doesn’t feel right, does it? and when you leave it so long into the day you’ll just keep putting it off further and further. and of course, get an early night! you can’t wake up early and work if you don’t go to sleep early. we need to recharge and being tired is definitely a motivator to keep procrastinating.

i hope this helps even a little bit! best of luck to you <333

[silvery-vixen]

The Coldness of Siberian nights

Summary: When Dr. Logan Berrie got sent to Siberia to research flora and fauna of the harsh russian taiga, he did not expect his whole world to change. Seems like none of his knowledge had prepared him for what he would find here.

Warnings: Gore, Violence, soft swearing

I am not a native english speaker, so I apologize in advance for possible grammar and vocab mistakes.

Word count: 1547

Chapter 1

Dr. Logan Berrie, best in his field of expertise at the Exeter University, did not believe in monsters, ghosts and frights of the night.  Neither did he think that all those legends or myths that people told each other were at all true.

Sure most of the old tales had some kind of moral core or deeper meaning to them that justified the pure abstrusity of their content, but his entire life he had been fairly certain, that there was no way creatures like ghouls, vampires or werewolves could actually exist.

Talking animals, flying carpets or brooms, magic and fairies. None of these things were something he would concern himself with, for as a scientist he only believed in, or rather trusted two things: the scientific evidence on his desk or in his labor and himself.

But somehow he had just started to question the latter. 

Because, if there was no way that those creatures existed, why did he find himself sitting in the snow of the harsh siberian forest, rescued from a glibbery creature, which he couldn't quite get a grasp on, by a giant black wolf, that certainly exceeded the heights and strength and intelligence of any normal siberian wolf?

In fact, the animal held the size of a bear, but it's facial features and anatomy clearly pointed it out to be a wolf. A male siberian wolf.

And just now it stood on top of whatever was left of the unknown creature, that had attacked the scientist earlier, blood and gore smeared into its fur and entrails scattered beneath it's giant paws, staring at Logan with soft curiosity in it's... His glistening lilac eyes.

Logan felt his breath falter and his heart rate jumped to unhealthy heights, when the wolf slowly started to approach him.

In a panicked frenzy he tried crawling backwards, out of the reach of the animals giant fangs, while he desperately looked for his bear rifle.

God he was too young to die. He still had to finish so much research! Write some scientific papers! 

Nonononono!

He just finished his dissertation, got the doctors degree. He was not finished with this world yet!

The wolf didn't stop. He slowly took one step after the other to bridge the distance between themselves and the panicking scientist.

Logan's clumsy, numb fingers brushed through ice cold snow, branches and half rotten leaves, But the early taigan nightfall had already covered the land with its shady blanket and the condensed water on Logans glasses, that had slowly rearranged its molecules to form ice crystals, worsened his sight even more.

Where was his rifle?

He must have dropped it somewhere around here. It had to be here!

The air that escaped his lips turned to thick clouds of vapor in front of his face and even glittered softly in the moonlight, as if it turned to ice as soon as it left the warmth of the doctors body.

The temperature had dropped drastically with the disappearance of the sun. But Logan didn't even notice.

Those lilac eyes that were directed at him sent an awkward feeling through his body. It was a mixture of pure fear and a weird calmness that took hold of his limbs. He suddenly felt the need to sit still and just wait for the beast to reach him, because it would be okay.

Except clearly it wouldn't.

He would be eaten alive, ripped to shreds like that thing earlier. (He could still hear the creatures screeching echoing between the cedar trees) and he fought with all his minds strength against this numbness in his body that took over his mind.

Again Logan looked around for anything that could help him (at this point he didn't even care what it was as long as it was pointy and/or deadly in any other way), when his eyes suddenly got caught by the reflection of the moon on the barrel of his rifle only a few feet away and he pushed himself up in one desperately fluid motion, jumped over to the weapon, grabbed it and swirled around to point it at…. Nothing.

The wolf was gone. 

Vanished without a trace, safe his paw prints in the snow.

The cold and the stress had exhausted him and the walk back to the relative safety of his Jeep had felt like a marathon run.

Now, back in the warmth of the log cabin that his university had rented for him in the outskirts of a small russian town, he didn't have the strength to think over today's events, he couldn't even read a book.

After he forced down a hot cup of tea and some slices of the hard, dark russian bread, he went straight to bed.

Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe it all had been just a dream.

But of course it wasn't.

When Logan woke up the next day his body hurt in places, he didn't even know existed.

His fingers felt as if they had been under high pressure. A side effect of a near frostbite, he was sure. And he had various scratches and smaller wounds on his limbs that needed treatment.

A look in the mirror showed several more bruises and some cuts from when the slimy monster… no not monster. There was no such thing as a monster… the creature … had initially attacked, before the wolf had shown up.

His hair was a mess and dirt and parts of leaves and branches sticked out of it but nothing a shower couldn't mend.

He took his normal clothes, in which he had slept in, off and threw them into the litter, without giving them a second glance. They were shredded and bloodstained and beyond repair.

His thermoisolating coat and trousers were damaged as well. Maybe he could repair them, but he would probably just have to buy new clothes. 

The fabric couldn't guarantee a sufficient thermal isolation with all these holes in it and here in this unforgiving part of the world, a good isolation could decide on life or death.

After his shower and a forced down breakfast of one slice of bread with some cheese, he decided to make good use of the limited daylight here in the northern hemisphere and go shopping for new clothes first, before deciding or thinking about anything else. Especially about yesterday evening.

First things first, second things second, right?

Logan turned his Jeep into the parking lot of a small shop that sold outdoor clothing amongst other things and got out of the car with shaky knees.

During the drive here the dark trees in the distance and the reflection of sun rays on the snow had reminded him of the terror that he had felt the night before.

But to his own surprise, the fearful thoughts weren't directed at the giant, clearly not normal wolf, but at the other thing.

The thing that had more limbs than a normal mammal should have, with slimy skin that seemed clearly impractical for living in the harsh russian taiga, due to the fact that it should freeze. That thing that didn't even care about any of these points and still had wandered around the forest attacking people.

What the hell was that thing?!

The doorbell chimed a little too joyously, when he entered the store and he was immediately greeted by a very happy man in light blue, that distracted him from his thoughts about whether or not he should go back to examine the remains of the body.

"Hi! Hello there! Welcome to Patton's practical store! If you need something, just let me know and I'll be all there for you!"

The cheery guy beamed at Logan before his smile slightly faltered, when he sighted the scratches all over the scientists face.

"Oh my, what happened to you?!"

Before Logan could even think about answering that question, the man, probably Patton, had taken his hand and towed him into a small room in the back of the store, where he placed him on a soft light brown couch with way too many pillows and put a cup of hot green tea on the coffee table in front of the scientist.

"Thank you, but that was really not necessary", 

Logan weakly announced, when the man put a bowl full of at least 7 different sorts of cookies next to his cup.

"You poor thing got all bruised up! Did you have an accident? Do you need a doctor? I have never seen you here before. Are you on vacation?"

"N...no! No I'm fine. Thank you.. erm..?"

"Patton! I'm Patton! You can call me Pat!"

"Well thank you, Patton, but I am fine. Really. I just need some… clothing. Isolation clothes against the cold. For an excursion. You see I'm a biochemist. I explore the flora and fauna of the area."

Patton's expression changed. Just very slightly, very subtly, but it did. 

A hint of caution and concern now accompanied the shallow joy in his light blue eyes.

"So you have been to the forest lately, then?"

He asked, still smiling, while taking a cookie himself, trying to look nonchalant, but in Logan's opinion clearly failing.

 The scientist furrowed his brows. Something about the store owners reaction seemed off.

[qqueenofhades]

Mmmkay so it’s been A Week (From Hell) for various real life reasons and I keep trying to ignore it and do other things and surprisingly, this is... less than working. Anyway so, venting on the big blue hellsite is probably better than keeping it all in my head, because the anxiety + stress + general unfunness is pretty much tanking me right now. You are 0% obligated either to read this post or to do anything about it if you do, but yeah. There you have it?

(Rant about aforesaid shit below.)

Anyway so. I’ve mentioned the fact that I’m really close to submitting the first draft of my PhD dissertation, which is really cool and something that I’m definitely proud of. However, the finishing stress is basically The Worst and I am so exhausted because I’ve worked on this thing for literally three years now and I can barely summon up any desire to look at the damn thing, much less go through and do the final edits/etc before I send it off to my supervisors. I’m almost done and it’s close and there are like a few finicky things but... god I just can’t do it anymore? I just... am so done with it (as most PhD students are by this point) and can’t focus and don’t wantttt.

Plus, it will be submitted at the end of May, and because you have to allow two months for it to be read in the first instance, let alone any corrections etc after that, I will be graduating in December rather than July. This is... well, it is what it is and I can’t control that, and I want to do things properly and not half-ass it at the end, but it royally shits over my ability to apply for this year’s round of postdocs/early career fellowships/all the other bullshit roulette of applications that you have to do as an academic, because they basically want you to have the PhD in hand by September (when most of the deadlines are) and yeah, I won’t until December. So that basically fucks me out of a year of applications (I’ll see what I can do, but yeah), and pushes me back to where I can start looking for the next solid step. I’m essentially completely in limbo at the moment with zero certainty and no money and a shit ton of anxiety and nothing either secured or that I can really secure, and...

Yeah. The no money part. It’s been up and down for a while, because that’s just Da PhD student life, and my parents have helped out a lot over the last year, but for various reasons,  including medical bills for my mom etc, they’re not really in a position to do that any more. I’m trying to be sensible about this but I’m basically also freaking out because I have enough money to pay like... one more month of rent (and maybe one bill after that) and then... zippo. I am working really hard trying to line up a summer job, but because I have work restrictions on my visa/am not a UK citizen, that is probably going to play havoc with who is willing to hire me (because Brexit! Take a shot). I have worked as much as I have been able over the last three years (teaching at the university + in the education outreach office + private tutoring), so it’s not like I have no UK work experience, but also even getting hired somewhere part-time may be a challenge. I can’t teach again until October, and even if I get two classes, that still leaves me with three months of... essentially zero income.

I am going to go to the university advice centre on Monday and basically explain my situation and see if they can point me in a useful direction, and make all other reasonable efforts to support myself. But I’m also just finishing a PhD dissertation and am ragged and exhausted and shot mentally, and this is just taking a lot of spoons to deal with (plus the imminent panic of probably being homeless...) so yeah. My parents are giving all this well-meant “just do your best!/things will work out!” advice and I am... well, I’ve had a complicated relationship with them, and it’s gotten a lot better, and as I said, they’ve done a lot for me already. But also I’m frustrated with them because WHAT I REALLY NEED IS MAYBE NOT TO BE FUCKING HOMELESS?? AND THAT WOULD BE NICE?? MAYBE??? ESPECIALLY TRYING TO FINISH A PHD AND REGRETTING ALL MY LIFE CHOICES TO GET INTO ACADEMIA BECAUSE IT’S TOTAL SHIT AND I WON’T GET AN APPOINTMENT ANYWHERE AND AM CLEARLY AN IDIOT AND...

(whoof okay. I just had to get that off my chest, apparently.)

I absolutely HATE having to ask people for anything, especially with things like money. I’ve had to do it a few times before, and the “you’re a burden”/”you’re greedy”/”you’re not working enough”/”you don’t deserve to be helped this much” voices are real, and it sucks. Because I’ve been working as much as I possibly can, and it never feels like enough, and I’ve had ten years of bad or at least very iffy mental health that is a struggle to live with, and it’s... anyway. I’ve spent this entire week basically crashing and trying to distract myself and do fannish stuff to keep my mind off it, and I’ve done a few things like look into options and apply for jobs and etc. There’s MAYBE the possibility of yet another student loan (I mean what the hell, I’ll be in debt until I die, what does it matter?) but that also involves having to ask people to be involved in it, and feeling like I’ve already asked enough, and...I honestly don’t know. It would be tricky as a PhD non-citizen student. I’ll try it if I have to, but... again, it’s so much extra stress and it’s just feeling incredibly, incredibly overwhelming and like I can see no path to the end of the year with my sanity and general basic everyday life intact. I’ve also applied for some other things that have not worked out, and some things that I was hoping would come through didn’t, and....

... Anyway. Well. I have a kofi account if you wanna toss some pennies at me, a patreon, and I also have a paypal. I don’t want to give that out publicly since it’s linked to my institutional email, but I can give it privately. Again, I hate, hate that being the fact, but...also, I have to try everything that I can think of, and I like to think I’m someone whose stuff is generally enjoyed, so there’s that.

If you read to the end of this, bless you. Have a cookie.

[boymeetsweevil]

Baby Genius

Grouping: Reader x Namjoon

Word Count: 2.3k. slice of life? porn? porn of life? lmao

Summary: In which you’re very smart and namjoon has a tiny garterbelt fetish

a/n: guess who’s been drinking again????? guess who’s birthday it is?? namjoooon! yikes this isn’t edited sorrryyi tried to bang this out in one take im sorry ok classes were rough and i like wine

Your feet are killing you from standing for almost 2 hours in heels, but the feeling of accomplishment you’re experiencing is more than enough to distract you from the pain.

I did it, you think to yourself, I defended my physics dissertation. It’s true. You did do it. Years of research and writing and editing and rewriting all amounted to the talk you gave this evening in front of the most esteemed faculty of your university. You get hit with a rush of endorphins and barely register the sound of Namjoon opening the door to his apartment in front of you. You trail behind him as he enters and stay back to lean on the door after it closes. 

A crazed giggle bubbles out of your mouth as you realize you can finally breathe. You don’t have to pull any more all-nighters, eyes burning red as you pore over dense academic texts and piles of data. You can finally have leisurely days and sip a glass of wine before bed. You can go out on dates with your boyfriend again. Hell, you can read a novel. Or go to bed early. The possibilities are endless.

You sigh happily as you remove the cardigan you wore over your little black dress and move into the living room to find Namjoon undoing his tie in front of the window. Pulling your brastraps through the arm holes of your dress, you discard your bra on a near chair and walk over to him.

“Hey,” you whisper once you’re standing next to him, “I’m done with my dissertation.”

“I know. I’m so proud of you. You were great up there.” 

He smiles down at you and you realize how much you missed seeing him without stress and sleep deprivation ruining the moment. When he steps behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, you let yourself fall back against him immediately. 

“I missed you, Joon.” His breath tickles your skin as he groans exaggeratedly.

“So did I. God, I missed you so much, baby.” You perk up at the sound of the nickname. Namjoon has many nicknames for you, all of which come out, though rather unconsciously, at specific times. ‘Baby’ was for when he was horny.

You press your back into him a little bit more to confirm and nod to yourself when you feel his hardness pressing near the small of your back. Soon you feel his hands begin to wander tentatively. You almost feel bad about how awkward he’s being, knowing that it’s been a while since the two of you have been intimate. The work for your dissertation always left you incredibly drained and miserable, in no mood for sex.

Tonight is different, of course. You sigh when you feel one hand press almost possessively against your abdomen and he echoes the sigh back when his other hand makes it way up to cup your breast through your dress.

“No bra?” His voice is gravelly now. He releases a sharp breath through his nose and begins kneading in earnest.

“I took it off a few minutes ago,” you say breathily, “You remember how cold it was in the conference room. You really think I’d risk my nipples ripping holes through my dress in front of the physics department?”

“I don’t know,” he says as he moves his hand underneath one of the side-slits on the skirt of your dress to finger the delicate straps of your garter. “You’ve always been pretty kinky.” He punctuates the statement with a nip to the shell of your ear.

In theory, you know he’s not trying to tease you. But the slow speed at which he massages your breast while pressing himself to you makes you frustrated beyond belief.

“Joon, there is a perfectly good bed in the middle of your room. Why the hell aren’t we using it?”

“That’s a good question that I don’t have an answer to,” he says and waddles the two of you over to the bed. You disentangle yourself and dive butt first onto the mattress.

“Kim Namjoon without a clever answer to such a simple question? What year is it? Where am I?” He wrinkles his nose from where he stands by the side of the bed and you stick your tongue out at him from below.

With surprising grace and speed, he drops himself onto the bed to cage you in between his arms. He situates himself amidst your splayed legs before leaning down to give you the first of many searing, open-mouthed kisses.

“Can’t say I missed your snark very much,” he says between nips to your bottom lip.

“You’d be lying, though.” You thread your fingers through his hair and use the grip to pull him as close to flush against you as possible. It’s a little awkward given that he’s seated on his heels, but he manages to bend forward to accommodate you.

When you feel his hands wedge themselves under you to grab at your hips, you pull away to watch curiously. He stretches his legs out and pulls you to him to bring you to a seated position in his lap. In this position, your skirt is hiked up indecent amounts to rest bunched up below your belly button, leaving your garter belt in full view.

“Jesus,” he whispers reverently as he caresses the smoothness of the nylon covering your thighs and the satin of the straps and belt.

After dating for a while, you know what effect a garter belt has on Namjoon. The first time you realized it, you teased him for his “old man fetish” and told him to “get with the times and get on the my little pony train like everyone else”. Truly, he wasn’t offended by your ribbing, but he still pounded into you that same evening with bruising force. He ripped your lacy panties off, but he had you leave the stocking and belt on intact.

Now, though, he’s being much more careful with your undergarments. It takes nearly ten minutes before the belt is unhooked and discarded. Even then, he still continues to simply run one hand up and down your stockinged leg, breathing a little ragged, the other hand clutching your hip tightly. As if you were thinking of leaving. Not likely.

But you do get annoyed at his glacial pace. It had been too long and you're so turned on it almost hurts. You snap when you feel his finger dance lightly against the apex of your thighs but without the pressure you need.

“Namjoon, stop fucking around,” you huff, trying to grind your hips into his feather light touches, and whining when he withdraws his hand a little.

“Fine,” he offers up his hand, smirking, “Show me how it’s done, then.” You glare at him, slightly embarrassed, and he smirks harder. His dimples are on full display now, and if you weren’t mildly pissed at him, you’d kiss them. Or lick them. Either one.

He expects you to pout and let him continue to take his time with you, assuming you’d be too ashamed to call his bluff. What he doesn’t expect is for you to mutter ‘fuck it’ under your breath before grabbing his and shoving it into your panties. All the breath leaves his lungs almost immediately. You’re amazingly warm and wet. The previous thoughts he had of teasing you are replaced with the primal urge to bury himself into your warmth again and again and again until you’re a sweating, whimpering mess. 

But Namjoon is patient and ever curious, so he doesn’t rush you. Instead he watches with rapt attention and hooded eyes as you use his fingers to get yourself off. Obviously, this isn’t the first time he’s had his hand down your underwear, and he knows how to crook his fingers and where to shift his palm it rubs against your clit just the right way. There’s something special and wonderful, though, about watching you do it yourself, he thinks.

Your eyes are shut in bliss, head cocked the way it always does when you’ve found the perfect spot, rhythm, and friction. Little gasps are falling out of your mouth as you move your hips over his fingers, one of your hands gripping his tightly, the other supporting yourself so you can move freely.

His patience doesn’t last forever, and pretty soon he’s taking over without thinking. You don’t mind because the way he’s starting to scissor his fingers inside of you is causing stars to appear behind your eyelids.

“Ohmygod, Joon, please,” you whisper as you instinctively grab his shoulder to use as leverage.

“Please what? Just say it, and I’ll do it. Anything. You know I will.” 

“I need you inside of me. Now, please.”

As if a switch has been flipped, he withdraws his hand quickly, but carefully, before wiping your wetness on your nylons. 

“Joon, come on. Those were new.” You scowl half-heartedly as he maneuvers the two of you so you’re on your back, both legs loosely wrapped around his hips. 

“Sorry,” he says, giving you a rakish grin as an apology. You accept it because he’s sweet and beautiful, even if he is a bit klutzy. He shirks his dress shirt and the t-shirt underneath quickly and you admire the firm muscle of his biceps as he unzips his trousers. “Have you been taking your pill?” His eyes are wide as he looks to the drawer where he holds his condoms. You run your hand up the taut expanse of his stomach reassuringly.

“Yeah, I have. Hurry up, okay? I miss you,” you say, eyes swimming in meaning. Your heart is pounding in your ears as he lines up with your entrance, but it seems like everything stops when he pushes in with almost no resistance.

When he bottoms out, you both groan at the feeling. It hasn’t been too long, so the stretch you feel is amazing and satisfying. You clench your kegels curiously and are rewarded with the sound of Namjoon hissing. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groans and begins to move. You moan when you feel his head brushing up against a familiar and sensitive spot. He comes down to rest his weight on his elbows near your shoulder and buries his in the crook of your neck.

“I missed you so fucking much. I missed this. Missed having you like this,” his voice is raw and breathless as he fucks into you with increasing force.

“You missed me, Joon? Keep going,” you urge him on. 

Surprisingly, Namjoon is quite a talkative lover. You wouldn’t have expected it when you first met him, thinking him to be the quiet, pensive type. Getting to know him made you realize that while he is pensive, he’s also vocal at all hours of the day. In addition to always chattering about the latest biography he read or a cool documentary he saw, he’s verbally affectionate. When it comes to praising you and expressing his adoration, he seems to be just as clumsy with his tongue as he is with his limbs. He often stutters and gets shyly quiet when you’re together, but he still professes his affections all the same. This time is no different except for the fact that he barely got to be with you in the last few months. Now it all spills out. 

“Yeah I-shit-I missed you,” his thrusts knock the breath out of you each time. He continues on, panting while he speaks. “I know we saw each other sometimes but you-you were always so stressed out and I couldn’t ever do anything about it. You seemed so sad sometimes. I knew you were thinking you wouldn’t be able to do it. Even though that’s a load of bullshit.” You yelp and squeeze him a little tighter as he punctuates his words with sharp thrusts.

“You’re so goddamn smart. I don’t get how you can ever doubt that for a second--Jesus, you have to stop squeezing me like that--I love your brain and your fucking mouth. When you’re talking about physic and when you’re sucking me off. Shit, are you close?”

“Yeah, I’m so close, Joon. I’m almost there,” you breathe out shakily. You can feel the all the sensations he’s giving you form a coil in your belly. His words seem to caress you and build up the beginnings of your orgasm in a rapid crescendo. 

“Touch yourself?” 

You nod hastily and slip a hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit. The extra stimulation has you gasping in mere minutes and you feel like you’re suspended in air for a second before all the feelings come crashing down on you. You’re aware that his name is coming out of your mouth in choked out variations and that you’re probably squeezing the life out of him.

A half dozen thrusts later, he grunts and stills, him plush bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He looks angelic somehow, you muse to yourself as the aftershocks of your orgasm begin to fade. When he’s calmed down too, he rolls off of you and lumbers to the en-suite to get towels to clean up with.

“How was that? I was worried I’d be a bit rusty,” he says as he wipes the remnants of your sex off of you. Once that’s done, he hunts around for clothes for the both of you, knowing you get cold at night. He tosses you a shirt of his, which you slip on slowly.

“You're the best hype man a woman could ask for.” You give him a sleepy smile and open your arms expectantly. He gives you a wide grin before hopping into your embrace, wiggling a large cold hand up the shirt to cup your breast. You give the short hair at the back of his neck a light tug in retaliation

“What should we do tomorrow, now that you’re a full blown scholar?” You think for a bit while trying valiantly not to fall asleep before answering.

“I should probably catch up on Judge Judy.” You pointedly ignore his baffled stare and close your eyes. “You’re going to watch with me, you know.”

“I know,” he says.

[secret-captain-swan-blog]

Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.

A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 40791/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6

Read on: Ao3

Emma’s rejected kiss stings Killian all weekend. He tries to throw himself into work. To make up for taking Friday night off, he works the day and night shift on Saturday. It is just as well, the intense schedule keeps him busy and that is all he can ask for.

“What are you so down in the mouth about?” Ruby asks, when they swap shifts on Sunday.

“Tis nothing,” Killian mutters.

“Yeah, uh huh,” Ruby teases, folding her arms on the counter and propping up her chin on her hand, “Seriously, Killian, I’ve never seen you so forlorn. Tell Madame Ruby and she’ll sort out all your troubles.”

“Rubs, I said it was nothing,” Killian replies. It comes out more aggressive than intended.

“Woah,” Ruby says, “What the heck?”

She pauses and surveys him, “It’s a girl, isn’t it?” She’s smirking, before adding, “Or a boy? We’ve never talked about that specifically, and you can’t really assume these days.”

Killian rolls his eyes. While he’s seen Ruby sneak both lads and lasses up to her apartment, avoiding her Granny’s watchful eyes- Killian hasn’t brought anyone back to his apartment. He’s had occasional dates, one dreadful bathroom hook up that may have done permanent damage to a sink, and a two-week fling that he ended before anyone could get hurt. But he hasn’t really dated anyone, not since he arrived in Misthaven. Not since he left his painful romantic past behind him.

But there was something different about Emma. He could tell she got it. He could see her being the exception to rule, mostly because she would understand the rule in the first place. She knew about survival.

And maybe that was why she drew away from his kiss. If it was, he could deal with that. He could pick at her walls till she was ready for love.

But there are a million other reasons she might not be interested in him.

Reasons like the fact that she nearly has a PhD, while he’s never gone to a day of college. Reasons like she teaches classes on literature, while he works drawing pints and breaking up bar fights. Or that she lives in a nice apartment in a hip neighborhood, while he lives in a cramped apartment above a noisy bar. Or that he has a criminal record. Or that he’s spent most of his life without a family and that the one time he tried, it fantastically fell apart.

There are more than enough reasons for Emma Swan to not be interested.

“Shoot,” Ruby murmurs, “It is a girl. Or boy.”

“Girl,” Killian huffs.

“Right, girl,” Ruby says, nodding, “So who is she?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Killian shrugs.

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Ruby asks, leaning forward and raising an eyebrow.

“Because I tried to kiss her and she pulled away,” Killian admits, letting the bottled-up words out.

Ruby pulls a sympathetic face. “Tell me more. What’s she like?”

“She’s bloody fantastic. She’s American, blonde. She’s brilliant, a graduate student in literature. She likes all the same weird books I do.”

“Hmm, she sounds like your dream girl,” Ruby muses, “And I can’t think she isn’t interested in you- I mean, look at you. You’re attractive. You’ve got a quirky, but sexy accent. You’re charming as hell.”

“Ah Rubs, you flatter me so,” Killian jests.

“So what’s holding her back?” She asks.

He lifts a shoulder.

“It could be that she’s guarded,” Killian says, “I can tell she’s been through a lot, but I’m not sure what really and I’m not sure how it’s affected her. That’s the thing about Emma. She gets the ‘tough past’ thing. You can see it in her eyes and little things she says. She gets it. She likes books for the same reason I do, which I never known anyone like that before.”

“So, you think it’s the guarded thing?” Ruby says, “Because you know you can work on that. She’ll come around with more time.”

Killian shifts uncomfortably.

“Or it could be me. Maybe she wants someone,” He pauses, “More?”

“More what?” Ruby asks. “You can’t play that game. At least not yet. Give her more time. She’ll either come around and fall into your arms fairy tale style, or you’ll know she’s not interested but gain a friend. Just have patience, young grasshopper.”

“Oh like you are the yoda of dating wisdom?” Killian teases.

Ruby shrugs and gives a hum before leaving for her time off.

Killian takes Ruby’s advice and decides not to give up on Emma quite yet. Besides, they are in a business deal together. Wounded as his ego may be from her rejection, they still have to work together to pull off their scheme. And well, he still really fancies her.

He heads to Mamie’s on Tuesday afternoon. He’s given her the weekend to have time for herself, but he hopes he’ll see her today. After all, tomorrow she’ll be meeting with the queen and he reckons it’s a good idea to be on the same page before that happens.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees her. She sitting by the window as usual, her laptop and bowl of cappuccino in front of her. She dressed casually, skinny jeans and black t-shirt. Her red leather jacket is draped over the back of her chair. She also The Red Stilettos sitting on her table as well.

Killian flinches at the book. It’s a Blanche Neige, but by the far the darkest. While Killian’s reread most of her novels several times, he’s only read this one once. It was too haunting, too grim to touch again. The Red Stilettos tells the tale of a young girl forced into a career of exotic dancing for The Dictator after a cruel pimp in Dark Times Misthaven forces her into a pair of stiletto’s that force her to keep dancing. Her only solution is to cut off her own feet.

“Well that’s some jolly reading for the afternoon,” Killian remarks.

“Hello Killian,” Emma says, rolling her eyes.

Good old Emma. Always rolling her eyes.

“I can’t stand that one,” Killian tells her.

Emma gives him a puzzled look and then glances down at The Red Stilettos.

“It’s pretty dark,” Emma admits, “But I think it’s one of the most important of Blanche Neige’s work.”

Killian side into the chair across from her, resting a hand under his chin, “How so?”

“Well, her other novels are about people saving Misthaven, delivering it from oppressive dictators. But this one isn’t. The only person that that the protagonist manages to save is herself. And she has to cut away part of herself to do it, but she does. She saves herself. It’s not about daring resistance schemes, but personal resistance. It’s about the little things that we can do every day to rebel, to fight for hope.”

Killian looks at her with a sense of awe. She’s brilliant. Here he had just thought of it as a bleak, gritty novel, but Emma had found a way to see it as something both academic and inspirational.

“I think that it might be how Blanche Neige felt herself. Like she couldn’t bring down a whole regime. She couldn’t be the hero of her books, but she could do something. She could write these stories and use them as her own act of resistance,” Emma adds.

“Do you think they made a difference?” Killian asks.

“They made a difference to us,” Emma says, stirring a spoon in her cappuccino.

“They changed our whole lives,” Killian murmurs.

Emma licks some foam off her spoon and adds, softly, “So I think that counts.”

“Listen, Emma, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable on Friday,” Killian says.

“No, it’s okay, I was just being,” She hesitates and shrugs. He wonders what she’ll say- stubborn, guarded. “Me.”

“Well, I don’t ever want to come in the way of that,” He tells her, “But please, Emma, if you don’t want me around, if you don’t want to work with me- just say the words and I’ll disappear.”

“It’s not that,” Emma nibbles on the edge of the spoon, “I really like having you around. It’s just… I need to focus on my thesis. With this money-making plot as well, I really don’t have time for other… distractions.”

Killian isn’t sure if this was the whole story. Emma has so many walls and layers, he isn’t sure he’ll ever know her fully. But he knows that this is part of the truth. He knows how important her dissertation is to her. He wouldn’t ever want to stand in her way of following her ultimate goal.

“Just know that, um, if you change your mind, I’ll be here,” He says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She looks up and meets his eyes.

Then just a blush begins to creep up on her, she lifts up her cappuccino bowl to cover her face. When she puts it down, the blush is gone and Emma is back to business. The emotionally intimate moment is pushed aside, or bottled up, or whatever it is Emma does to compartmentalize.

“So, I thought you were going to show me more of Misthaven,” Emma says, “It’s been what- a week- since you promised that and all I’ve seen so far is more of the Misthaven University library.”

Killian doesn’t mind the change in subject when it allows him another opportunity to take Emma on a date. Or maybe a not-date. Whatever, he’s happy for the excuse to spend more time with Emma.

“Your wish is my command, milady,” Killian says, “What would you like to see?”

Emma shrugs and runs her hand through her hair, “Something to get me out of my head.”

“Hmm, I thought you were avoiding distractions,” He teases.

Emma looks startled for a moment, before sticking out her tongue, “I can spare two hours off.”

Killian tries to think of something to do. It’s a gorgeous day, so maybe a hike in the mountains. Or a picnic in one of Misthaven’s many parks. Or a visit to the memorial gardens.

But she’s still so new to Misthaven, he thinks she needs another chance to get acquainted with the city.

“How do you feel about heights?” He asks.

Emma closes her laptop and smiles, “I don’t mind them.”

“Grand,” Killian says, “Grab your things. Let’s go.”

Emma follows Killian into the warm afternoon air. She stuffs her jacket into her purse, realizing that it isn’t necessary in the early autumn heat. They weave through Old Town. It’s buzzing, as usual, but slightly muted as the lunch crowd has headed back to work.

Killian stops in front the main church in town. Emma’s seen the dreamy steeple of the Cathedral de Sainte Ann many times, but she hasn’t ventured into the church before.

She isn’t really a church kind of person. Well, except for one time when she’d been fostered by a particularly religious family. They’d taken her and the three other foster kids to church every Sunday. She hadn’t minded it. There were always good stories. Men trapped in lion dens, others who walked on water- they were fascinating to listen to- nearly as good as fairy tales. But when one of her foster siblings had planted a handful of stolen money under her pillow, she was sent away and that was the end of churches.

She’s a little unsure of what they are doing outside of the building when Killian opens the door and gives her a little nod. Inside, glittering stain glass is scattering light everywhere. There is beautiful grey stone everywhere, like a portal to the past. The ceiling is decorated in little stars, with angels swirled in between.

“Chagall did the windows,” Killian whispers, “Take your time to take it all in.”

Killian goes to sit in one of the pews while she explores. Emma weaves around the church taking in each display of sparkling glass. She can’t tell what any of them are really. They are most dizzying displays of color and images. She loves the details of the place, the bits of gold decorating the alter piece, the ambo.

“It’s really nice,” Emma says, wishing she had better words to describe the fascinating building.

“It’s one of the oldest things in Misthaven,” Killian explains, “That and the castle, really.”

Emma hums, imagining all the history that took place here.

“But come on,” He says, “It’s time to see the true gem of this place.”

They walk together to entrance of the church. There is a small door there, the kind that might go unnoticed to a different eye. It could be leading to a closet, or maybe a space for a choir.

Killian puts a code into the lock on it and swings it open.

“You weren’t lying about the heights, right?” He asks.

Emma’s never been one to mind heights. After everything she’s gone through in life, a nice view has never turned her off. She shakes her head.

“Up we go, Swan. You never forget your first church tower.”

Emma follows him up into a small passage. The climb to the top of the tower is made up of several wooden ladders that lead up from platform to platform.

“Lady first,” Killian says, gesturing to her to begin the climb. “Or should I say Princess first.”

The name brings thoughts racing back to her head, thoughts that she’s been putting off all weekend because she can’t. She isn’t ready to think about them. She shoves them off for a moment more.

Emma begins the assent. The ladder isn’t rickety, but she is relieved that she doesn’t have any fears of heights or claustrophobia because that would make this a lot more difficult. When she reaches the first platform, she hears Killian begin on the ladder below her.

“How do you know about this?” She asks.

She doesn’t peg Killian for a church go-er. He’s a little too rogue for that kind of thing.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I used to be something of a Quasimodo? Living up in this very bell towers, ringing the bells, naming them all,” He rambles.

Emma rolls her eyes at him, even though he can’t see her.

“No,” She says flatly, reaching the second platform.

“Aw, come on. I named the biggest one after you. I call her the Swan,” He says.

“Still no,” She replies. “And are you calling me fat?”

“Of course not, love. Biggest for biggest heart, of course. And actually, she’s called The Vicious Swan,” His voice adds.

“Oh my god, Killian, I’m going to climb down and shove you off the ladder.”

“Only jesting, darling,” he says. “Would you believe me if I told you I worked odd jobs when I first arrived in Misthaven. During the Dark Times, the churches were destroyed and ransacked. This one in particular. I’m surprised the Chagall windows survived to be honest. The whole thing was in disarray. I spent a few weeks helping out here, just trying to be helpful. My biggest task was rebuilding these stairs and platforms.”

“So if they ever break- I’m blaming you?” She asks, stepping up to a higher one.

The image of Killian, hot, sweaty (and probably shirtless- What? A girl can dream!) building things, fills her head. She smiles to herself at the fantasy.

And then promptly cuts off her fantasy. Honestly, this “no Killian” plan is probably doomed.

“Precisely,” He says, “But they won’t. I’m excellent.”

“Are you really?” She asks.

Gesh, there are a lot of stairs to the top.

“Yes, Swan,” He says, mock annoyed.

“But yeah, I’d believe that,” Emma says.

She does, a lot more than his Killian of Notre Dame story.

“Well that’s the truth,” He says.

Emma’s nearly to the top, she thinks. Or at least she hopes. She may be fine with heights, but she isn’t in shape for a stepmaster workout.

“I slept on pews at night for my first week here because I didn’t have anywhere to stay yet. Just me fixing up the church and sleeping in it,” He tells her. “Eventually I paid for a room at the pub and then Ruby offered me the job and the rest was history.”

“Yeah, sounds like a literary classic right there,” Emma jokes, trying not to start puffing, “Killian Jones, Foundling.”

Emma can see a light peeking out of the top and finally climbs the last bit to reach the top of the last ladder.

Emma gets to the top of tower before Killian does. The final stairway gives way to small chamber lookout. There are four windows, each allowing a view of a different part of the town. She can hear him moving below her, but for now it’s just her and the city.

The whole city looks miniature below her. She can see the main sights- the river, the mountains, various spires of other, smaller churches. She can see the main building of the university. The rows of Old Town sprawl below her, winding along the curving roads, the buildings jutting out adorably.

If Killian is still talking, she can’t hear him. There aren’t any distractions here.

And her thoughts, the ones she’s been shoving down all weekend, the worries that rattle in her chest, twist in her stomach- they come full force forward.

How is she going to do this?

How is she going to have tea with the Queen of Misthaven?

Emma has never really been a daughter. Ingrid was the closest she came, but the way things ended there has left Emma even more uncomfortable with idea of family than she was before. She had just thought that it was something sure and loving, when the rug had been pulled out from under her.

How is Emma supposed to be someone’s daughter now?

Is she just going to sashay into the Queen Mary Margaret’s tea room and have a chat like old friends? All the while as she stars at her, looking to see her daughter in her eyes, her smile. All the while as Emma straight up tries to live a lie.

She feels her hands shaking before the enormity it comes crashing down on her.

“Swan?” Killian asks, as he reaches the top step.

A lump has settled in her throat and she can’t find the words. She rests her elbows on the ledge of the open window, leaning forward to busy herself looking over the city.

And to hide her face from Killian lest she does something embarrassing. Like cry.

“Emma, love? Are you alright?” He asks. She can hear him striding across the small room.

She doesn’t move. She doesn’t say anything. She can’t. Anything will make her guard drop at this point.

“Is it the heights?” He says, his voice right behind her. “If it is, we can go back down. I won’t even tease you about it.”

She turns to shake her head, words still sticking in her throat.

Killian extends his hands tentatively. She doesn’t shy away when he places his hands gently on her shoulders, or when he pulls her close for a hug.

She should, she definitely should be pulling away. A hug is one step away from an emotional make out session. But she doesn’t have the energy to resist. She steps awkwardly into his embrace.

Emma has never been good at physical contact. Hot and heavy? Sure. But this, this vulnerability, this gentleness- this is foreign. She never grew up with moms and dads who gave hugs or tender squeezes of a hand. Even Ingrid had been scarce with hugs, afraid of frightening Emma with contact after her previous home. This is so stupid. She doesn’t know even know how to hug someone.

Honestly- how is she going to do this?

But then Killian’s arms tighten around her and she melts.

She lets herself relax so that she fits inside the tiny curves that his encircling arms make. She lets her forehead fall to the crook of his neck. She knows that she’s going to make a mess of tears on his t-shirt, but something tells her already that he won’t mind.

He brushes a hand into her hair. It makes her feel like melting again, a soft, relaxing feeling starting at her head and passing calm through her body.

“What is it, love?” He asks, his voice soft.

It’s many moments later when she gathers her breath, finding the words to begin an answer.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” She whispers.

“Do what?” He asks, another gentle hand through her hair.

It soothes her enough to begin to answer.

“I’m not sure I can be someone’s daughter,” Emma says.

He gently, ever so gently, puts his hands on her face to guide her to look up at him.

“You’re an orphan?” He asks.

She swallows, wondering how he put it together so quickly.

He runs a thumb under her eyes, smearing the tears.

“I know that look,” He tells her before she can ask. “You’ve got a look in your eye of someone who has been left alone for too long.”

“How do you know?” She asks.

“I was too,” He tells her.

All of a sudden the intimacy of the moment hits her. Here they are, alone in this church tower, above Misthaven, faces just inches from each other, sharing the deepest of secrets. It’s way more than Emma is comfortable with, especially after running away from Killian the other night.

But she can’t run away, not now, not in his arms, not at the top of a freaking bell tower. Not after he just revealed a deep secret to her.

So, she lets him continue.

“My gran died when I was twelve. I ran away to England. I ended up lost in foster care with no one at all to care for me,” He explains. “I made a lot of mistakes. I spent a lot of time alone. I tried to have family and the bloody thing came crashing down on me.

“What I’m trying to say, Emma, is that I get it.”

And he does. She knew that they were kindred souls, but not to this extent. She didn’t know how similar they really were till this minute.

“It was the same for me,” She reveals, “Going from foster family to foster family. Some were good, others were really, really bad- but they never really felt like home.”

“It’s okay, Emma,” He says softly. “Love has been all too rare in your life, hasn’t it?”

She sniffles and nods. Then she looks up at Killian. He’s smiling a gentle, reassuring smile. It lets her keep going, letting her full worries pour out.

“I don’t know how to be Princess Emma. I don’t know how to be a girl who grew up with hot chocolate with cinnamon and ponies and parents who loved her.”

Killian makes a sushing sound and sways gently, a rocking motion. His hand is still coaxing her through soft brushes through her hair.

“I don’t even have a middle name. I had to make up my own last name. I’ve never known my birthdate or my parents name. I was just found; left in an airport. And it sucks. At least you had a brother one time. I don’t even know if I had siblings. I don’t know anything about my origins, just that whoever I belonged to didn’t want me.

This is why I’m so freaking terrified to have tea with the queen. She’s going to see right through me because I can’t possibly be like her. I can’t ever be someone so loved, so cared for.”

Killian is silent a moment. And Emma wonders if she is getting snot on his shirt and if he can tell.

“Oh Emma. First of all, you don’t have to be her. If you go in there demanding a hot chocolate with cinnamon and talking about ponies, it will be obvious that I told you all I know. It will look staged and silly. You don’t have to be a modern characterture of a three-year-old Princess,” Killian is rambling now. There is still something calming to it. She can tell he’s really trying to reassure her.

She sniffles again as he keeps going.

“Let’s be honest, Princess Emma is very likely dead. If she isn’t, she could be anyone. She could be someone in Misthaven or someone halfway across the world. She could be someone who was lonely, who grew up in foster care. For all we know, she could be a man now. There is no way to tell what happened to Princess Emma or what she’d be like now. You just have to be you. Just you Emma.”

He strokes his thumb along her jaw, rubbing over her chin. His smile is so sincere, bordering on tender that it melts her heart.

He continues, “And if the queen happens to believe you are her long lost daughter, then that’s amazing. You’ll become a pseudo-princess and you’ll have money to finish your studies and maybe help me with my shop. But if it doesn’t work- you haven’t failed either. You’ll get to sip tea in a bloody fancy house. You’ll get to talk to the queen about books, maybe make a new friend. Who knows, maybe she’ll even pay your school fees anyway, she’ll like you so much. The thing is, I really want this to work. I know we both do. But it doesn’t have to. And you don’t have to stress yourself out trying to be someone you aren’t. Be yourself and the rest will fall into place.”

She gives him a little nod that she understands. Her tears have lessened now. Her breath is still unsteady, a few stray hiccups sneaking in.

He pulls her back into a hug. It’s gentle and sweet and she just wants to stay in it forever. Silly Emma, not being used to physical attention and getting sappy about hugs. She wants to chastise herself, but she also just wants to be in this moment and take it in. Killian Jones, her kindred soul, her fellow foster child, comforting her in the simplest of ways.

“Come on Swan,” He finally says, his voice soft, “You’ll miss out on the greatest view in Misthaven.”

He runs his hands down her arms till he reaches her wrists. He tugs on them slightly, pulling her over to the window.

It’s just as lovely as it was moments before, the whole city laid out in front of her.

“Look,” Killian says softly, pointing, one hand still in hers, “You can see your apartment way over there. And over there, in Old Town, is my pub.”

“Hey, I still haven’t been there,” Emma points out, “I want my free drink.”

“All in good time, Swan,” He teases. “If you look over there, you can see the harbor. The opera house is just below us. You see the dome, right?”

Killian continues pointing out little details to her- the library, a few good museums, parks he promises they’ll visit on a nice day.

“And do you see that castle looking thing over there?” He asks, nodding at the mountain opposite.

She follows his gaze, taking in the small chateau tucked into green of the mountaintop. Even from far away, she can see it’s opulence.

“That’s where you’ll be having tea tomorrow. The queen doesn’t live in the main castle. You probably know that. She’s taken up residence in that little one. It used to be their summer home.”

Right, their summer home is just a slightly smaller castle. That’s totally normal. And so completely out of Emma’s league.

As quickly as Emma feels her fears return, they vanish as she lets the memory of Killian’s earlier words wash over her. She just has to be herself.

“You’re going to brilliant,” He says, his voice soft, “Just watch, you and the queen will get on perfect.”

Emma feels herself blush and smile demurely.

“Now love,” He says, “Enough adventure for today. I think you have a free drink to claim.”

“Really?’ She asks, turning back to face him, cheerfully.

“Yes, now come along Swan, before I change my mind,” He says, wrapping an arm around her to guide her back down.

@sambethe @lenfaz @pocket-anon @the-corsair-and-her-quill @kmomof4 @kiwistreetswan @princesseslikepirates @timeless-love-story @shady-swan-jones @katie-dub @1handedpiratewithadrinkingprob @midnightswans

[gemmaannecase]

Hey guys… I’m back.

You may have noticed that I’ve been MIA for the past few months. I did my usual thing of starting a new hobby (in this case, blogging) and then stopped after only a few months. I’ve always know its a character flaw I, and I’m sure many people, have and I’m disappointed that I gave into it again. But this time I do have proper reasons for going missing, and they actually contributed to me being scared about turning 21 this month.

So let’s start off where I left off… March 2018 was the last time I posted a new blog, and even then it wasn’t a very creative blog post. At this time in my life, I was happy but very stressed about university. I had begun writing my dissertation on Disability in Theatre (which I managed to get a high 2:1…go me!), and I was directing a group of first years for an assessment. This was something I mentioned back in March but I didn’t realise how both these things were affecting my life and I knew I needed to take a back step on blogging to be able to focus on my academic studies.

(Few photos from my directing piece: Chrysalis. Photo credit to Giedrė Antanavičiūtė and Ellie Woods)

But don’t let that fool you into thinking that I wasn’t wanting to blog, because I currently have 8 saved blog titles for posts I wanted to make but could never find the time to write. Hopefully, I’ll get round to posting a few of those soon, because some of them were quite broad in topics and would be still relevant to post.

Then April came around.. and bloody hell was this month tough. So as well as finishing my dissertation, my boyfriend of 2 and a half years, broke up with me. As you can probably guess… this broke my heart and broke me, especially as it was so unexpected. However, we chose to stay friends and we still talk to this day. He’s planning on travelling the world on his motorbike very, very soon and I’m still one of his biggest supporters. I’m not going to lie to you and say any of these past few months have been easy because it was the complete opposite, I still miss being with him every day but everything is slowly getting easier.

(See proof we are still friends, taken after the break up at our university’s Summer Ball)

When this all happened in April, I threw myself into everything, whether that was finishing my dissertation, working on my last university project or seeing friends and celebrating the end of our 3 years. I did everything to distract myself and keep myself happy and unfortunately, blogging didn’t come into that, especially because I didn’t want to talk about my break up… probably because I still hoped it was all a dream still.

(Some of the fun celebrations to say goodbye to our 3 years at university.)

And then that brings us to holidays. In June, I went to Budapest, with people on my course, and Barcelona, with friends from home. Therefore June ended up being really busy and I started working fulltime at the end of that month.

As you can see there wasn’t much time to blog in general, even if I was in the right mindset to write.

But I’m sure you’re wondering… why was I so scared of turning 21?

On the 18th July 2018, it was my 21st birthday. I spent the day working and then celebrated with dinner with friends, followed by attending an acoustic night. However, I spent the night before crying to my ex-boyfriend.

It feels weird to write this down, but in a way, it’s quite therapeutic to write and therefore process the reasons behind the way I’m feeling. The biggest reason for my breakdown was that everything is so completely unknown from now on. Before, I was a university student and was just waiting to finish. Before, I had a longterm boyfriend, who I saw a future with and was so happy and content. Now, I’m single and officially an ‘adult’ who has to make adult decisions, and I don’t think I liked the idea of that, especially not knowing what I’ll be doing in a few months, let alone a few years.

But I’m now at the stage, just a few days later, understanding that I’m not supposed to know what is in store for me. Because every choice I begin to make from today will be shaping my life and I have complete control of everything that happens from now on.

For example…I just BOOKED my flights to Bali and Australia. Instead of it being spoken about constantly, its actually happening and in October I’m jetting off to explore the other side of the world with full support from my family and friends. I find it crazy that I don’t even know when I’ll be coming back, its completely up in the air! My current idea is that I will still be out in Australia at Christmas and will be celebrating with my family who lives there.

My life is changing. Just like everyone else. And I need to remember to embrace it and not be scared of it like I was the night before my 21st, because it’s not fair on myself to dread what the future holds because it really is exciting and full of new and brilliant things.

And I can’t wait to experience all of it!

DISCUSSION TIME…

Have you ever experienced anything like this?

What exciting things do you have to look forward to?

Thanks for reading!

  Why I Found It Scary Turning 21… Hey guys... I'm back. You may have noticed that I've been MIA for the past few months.

[joyce9407-blog]

Education

Secondary to Uni

I can truly say education was one of the hardest parts of my life there were times where i just couldn’t do it no more and i just felt to leave it was so difficult especially in secondary school round year 9 to 11. So i have always been a quiet girl since early age am literally the quietist out of my family get that from my papa lol. But yh so i was always quiet didn’t really have much friends as i lept myself to myself as well as finding it difficult to let people into my circle as i dont really have trust in people you have to gain my trust. So secondary school was hard, year 9 onwards were difficult it really showed me who were my true friends and who wasn’t. There were times where there just be a group of girls that tgought they were way better than you and just try make your life a living hell and i was a victim of this especially as i went to an all girl school looking back at that experience i think the only reason they picked on me wasn’t because i was quiet but because they were intimidated of me dunno why as i am a nice girl and very friendly especially if we are on good terms. During those times thats when i couldnt handle the bullying no more and i just stopped attending classes most times i would bunk amd just go else where or I just wouldn’t have left my house it got so bad that i started getting letters and phone calls home becaus my attendance was bad. After having a serious talk with my mum i realised why am i letting these girls with no life mess up my education so i began to just ignore them and it worked because after that day they never bothered me again.

After year 11 i was so happy school was over and i didnt have to see these people again. My next step was college where i started my early years course which lastes 3 years this was the best part of my education life i really enjoyed the course i choice as i have a passion for children and working with them, the college i choice was good too from the facilities to the teachers and the students i formed lots of new friends i say new friends because after secondary school i lost contact with people i called my friends and i dont know why but it showed me that i shouldnt be too opened in letting people into my life as they never stick around. So yh these girls were my everything we would always just sit together laugh and buss jokes and we still in contact now which is very nice we all check up on eachother and see how we are all doing. University one of the hardest most stressful life ever with all the group works and assessments and dissertation OMG it was HELL but i am jist glad that i got through it and passed my course with flying colours. So university wasn’t always on my mind like i wasnt planning to ever go uni but am glad i did because i have gained so much from going to uni and it has given me so much confidence in myself which i am proud off. At uni i decided to continue to follow my dreams and continue studying early years so i did my hons degree in that topic and i can truly say i made the best choice it wasn’t only a learning experience but it was fun too it is so different from secondary it is more relax yh you get more work but the teachers are more relaxed and are more available if you need help or they send you to the roght directions for help. At the beginning i dod struggle a bit it was very difficult because my plan was to stay on campus to make things a bit better but it didnt turn out that way as i had other things going on with family situations but i tried my best not to let that get in my way aswell as being able to balance my work life and my education at times it did get too much it was so tiring but am glad i never ever gave up because look at me now. The moral of this story is there are some very mean people out there as well as fake people but never ever allow anyone to ruin you flow and distract you from reaching your goals. To be successful you have to block out all of the haters as well as anything that will get in your way know your worth and be strong do not let anyone knock you down.