#is a lot older at this point and perhaps has the same age gap as bianca and him did 🤔 cant remember. but also don't know why hazel was 13

[bunkernine]

society if hoo had them at uni age and the lost trio went to chb and chiron is like "how tf are ANY of u alive and unclaimed". wilderness was just community college.

[marigoldenblooms]

An Important Lesson - One-Shot

Pairing: Professor!Wanda x Fem!Reader (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Prompt: After years of rigorous study, you were nearing the end of your graduate program. Companionship had become a figment of your imagination, until your film professor caught your eye. Taking something from her desk, you hope you could catch hers- and you got more than you bargained for.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Who is Y/N I don’t know her, Dom!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Porn with plot, teasing, orgasm denial, vibrator use, thigh riding, Mommy kink, Professor kink (sparingly), no aftercare, slight dub-con, dumbification, praise, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance (professor/student), age gap (Reader is 26 while Wanda is 34), brat taming if you squint. 

A/N: Holy balls, I did not realize smut was so hard to write. Major kudos to all who seem to do it so effortlessly! I know I envy ‘em. This is my first foray into writing this kind of fic (my university’s spring break has brought a lot of writing firsts), so if you have any feedback I’d love to hear it! This is also vaguely proofread! Wanted to do some practice before the evental sex in Unica Sempter Avis (Because USA is certainly an Abbreviation of All Time), and other ideas I’ve got cooking up. I'd love to write another part to this, if y'all would be down! Thanks y'all again!  Edit: An Important Lesson is getting a second part! Read a teaser here! >:)

Word Count: 2.5k - Read length: 9 minutes, 5 seconds.  Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners! ~~~ 

The pen hadn’t been worth stealing, and yet here you were. 

Professor Maximoff’s classroom was overwhelmingly quiet, dark and empty with familiar rows of tables curved in a half arc around her desk, pushed off to the side. She’d always pace within the front few rows where you sat, and you’d have to crane your neck to keep her in view when you weren’t scribbling down paraphrases of what she said. She taught Advanced Film and Media Critique, which generally lended itself to analyzing the shit out of old TV shows. Maximoff was a difficult professor, but you weren’t looking for easy, especially in your graduate program. After a few years of working your ass off to make enough money, you’d wiped the floor with your bachelors and now you were vying for your masters, in your last few weeks of grad school. And you knew Professor Maximoff liked you, which didn’t make it so bad. 

You knew other things about her too - for instance, there was no way she wasn’t a lesbian. Whenever you’d raise your hand her eyes would snap to you, and you swear her face would curl into a smile that was beyond professional. You’d catch her staring in your direction during exams on multiple occasions (to be fair you did the same when she wasn’t looking, but that’s besides the point), and you swear up and down that she winked at you during your midterm. She’d hold onto your hand a little too long when you turned in papers, and always offered ‘tutoring’ sessions which you humbly declined in the beginning of the semester, your grade being nigh perfect in her course. Between that, the short nails, tailored suits, and the rings- oh, so many rings- there was no way your professor wasn’t gay, and possibly had the hots for you. Your studies had been your priority over companionship for so long,  And now, within a few weeks of your final, why not make a move?

Heist films had been the topic of last week’s lecture, and so nicking something small would be a good segway, right? You’d return it to her tomorrow after class, mention something flirty (perhaps about stealing her heart), and see where it went. If you were lucky, you’d have her number by the end of the course, and perhaps take the older woman to coffee after your final exam. You’d bring her to the movies, but that might turn into more of a lesson than a date. 

As you’d pluck a pen from one of her desk drawers, you notice that it was slightly heavier than most. You clicked it once, then a second time- and nothing happened, so it went into your pockets. You’d move to exit the dim room, before a plaque caught your eye- her degree. It was neatly pressed into its frame: Wanda Maximoff, Masters of Arts in Film and Media Studies. You remembered her mentioning she was working on her doctorate, a proud grin sparking at that. Perhaps you’d get to know more about her dissertation and herself shortly. ------------------------------------------

Class went by faster than most, although it didn’t help that you were anxiously awaiting the end of Professor Maximoff’s lecture. She had worn a trim fitted sleeveless blouse and buttoned pants, both beautiful shades of burgundy. A myriad of gold rings decorating her hands as she’d motion with them through her talk. You’d have to keep your eyes off her fingers, nose deep in notebooks as you’d scramble to collect her words before your incoming final exam. 

“And what is the significance of I Love Lucy’s laugh tracks?” Wanda would ponder aloud before your hand immediately shot up, the lone attempt out of your fifty or so classmates. She’d grin at you, “Yes, dear?” 

You almost forget what you were about to say, holding onto the vestiges of it as you’d sputter, “Oh, uhm- yes, well, I Love Lucy didn’t have laugh tracks, mostly- they were the first sitcom to have a live studio audience.” Her eyes would crinkle with mirth, and you could tell immediately that you had the right answer. You tuned out her words as your mind would swim, thinking back to the weighted pen in your jeans pocket. The pet names were new, settling a joyous fuzz both in your mind and between your legs. It was things like this that had you on the back foot- this was your chance to get her back.

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

“And I’ll see you all in two days,” Wanda would return to her desk, sitting atop it rather than in the chair behind it. One of your classmates had asked why in an icebreaker towards the beginning of the semester, and if you remembered correctly she said ‘Just like the view from up here,’ or the like. If you’d been on the same track mind as now, you probably would have noticed how she stared at you during her spiel, a detail only discovered in hindsight. Now, you had all the pieces. 

You pack up slowly, shimmying your belongings into your overly stuffed bag. Hanging back until there were few students left, you flag her gaze with a hand and an upturned smile, “Professor, I was wondering if I could..” Your words would halt in your throat, thoughts thickened and syrupy as she’d look down to you, head tilted a degree off kilter. Would it be embarrassing to admit you’d never been this close to her before? Her lips would be pursed, but would break into a wild grin, and you felt yourself melt right there. You weren’t a teen anymore goddamnit, focus- “Talk-” you’d squeak, clearing your throat hastily to camouflage the blunder, “Talk with you, after class. Professor.”

Her brows would raise, and you could almost see the cogs rotating in there. Her eyes would dart within the now-empty room, adjusting her position on the desk- and it’d become increasingly obvious (you can deny it no longer) that you were standing directly in between her slightly parted legs. This wasn’t how you were expecting it to go, but here you were. She’d start taking off her rings. “Of course, darling,” she’d tease again with a roughened lilt. Those damn pet names. “What do you need?”

“I think I have something of yours, Professor-” Your mouth would open a few seconds before you’d speak, and you swear she’d smirk at how she had you, devoid of any thought. Something about her had you smiling and kicking your feet, and boy did she know it. Without any further bravado, you’d pull out the pen, “I hate to say it, but I think you’ve stolen-”

“Oh,” She’d breathe, Wanda’s face tinting with a pinkish hue, yet her smile only grew larger. Her gaze would narrow, voice dripping with a sultry air that almost knocked you off balance, “I didn’t let you borrow that, did I?”

“No Professor,” you admit, beginning to launch into your story, before she’d shush you- shush you, words piling up into a lump in your throat. 

“And do you know what it does, darling?” She asks, her tone a breathy whisper now. You swallow, shaking your head no. She fucking giggles. She takes the pen from your hand, clicking it three times, and it’d start to buzz. Oh, my god. It was a fucking vibrator.

“Too dumb to even recognize what this is? And I thought you were so smart..” She’d tease, a flush forming on your face in tandem with a shiver down your body. You open your mouth to speak, and yet her warm, calloused fingers would clasp your jaw shut. “Shhh, don’t want your pretty little head to even think, darling. How about Mommy show you how it works, hm?” 

You’d nod immediately. She’d abandon the toy, clicking it off as her hands would slip beneath your shirt, and it felt like time had frozen. She was so soft, and your mind glazed over. Your breath hitched as she’d trail upward, palming your skin before running her fingers over your bare breasts. You’d watch as Wanda’s pupils would blow in seconds, a devious smile bubbling into view, “No bra?” She’d murmur lowly shaking her head as she’d start to knead your flesh, “Just couldn’t remember it, hm? My precious student, too busy thinking of me to get dressed, were you?” You nod again, a pitiful mewl escaping your throat. 

“Yes- Yes, Professor..” You arch into her touch, although that bliss was short-lived as you feel her dig her hands further into your tits, sharper than you’d like. She’d tsk at your reply, and you look up to meet her eyes- oh, that was the wrong answer. 

“Did you already forget my title, baby?” She’d ask almost tauntingly, her gaze sharpening as she’d shift her hands from your skin. You’d chase her warmth, dazed as your skin would flush and tremble, slotting yourself up against her. She’d run her thumb over your lips, crooning at your immediate submission. She could use that. 

“It seems Mommy has a lot to teach you, dear..” Her touch would ghost across your exposed forearms, her feather-light touches only stuttering your breath further. “And I think you’re ready for your first lesson. Think you can handle that, darling? Keep your eyes on me,” Her hands would dig into your jeans, rougher against the hem’s fabric, “Think you can take this off for Mommy?”

“Please..” You beg, raising your hips to strip yourself bare, your glance trained on her. You don’t miss how her eyes darted down to your bare cunt, having slid off your panties too, or how she licked her lips at the sight of your slick. Her hands would hold your legs open, the cold lecture hall’s air chilling your exposed skin. Still staring at Wanda, you’d discard your shirt in the same breath, her jaw clenching as all of you felt the cool air. Feeling exposed, the urge to flee ebbed away some of your arousal. Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom? Your focus was immediately drawn again as she’d capture your chin in her hand, pulling it harshly to meet her gaze. Her eyes were dilated, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow as she’d pant, both from your disobedience and your thighs rubbing against hers. “Look at me,” she’d hiss, taking your lips into a searing kiss. Your answer? Fuck. Yes.

Your cunt would grind against her leg as Wanda would pull your hips up and onto her thigh, grip bruising as your lips would crash together. You could smell her vanilla perfume as she’d tug at your bottom lip with her teeth, a familiar buzzing sound heard but not registered before you felt it on your clit. “Mommy- yes, Fuckin’ christ, there-” You’d keen, lurching back as Wanda’s hand would rest on your hip, keeping you from escaping her touch.

Wanda would groan at your words, voice a little breathier as her hips would stutter against yours, “There’s my good girl..” Teasingly, she’d circle your clit with the pen-shaped toy, gasping herself as she’d feel the aftershocks of its pulse on her clothed cunt. “Taking Mommy’s toy so well..such a sweet girl for your Professor-” 

You’d rock your hips against her, the friction from her dress slacks and the vibrator’s pulse bringing you to the edge embarrassingly quick. Wanda wouldn’t notice your frenzied breathing or how you lost your rhythm, but she would hear your words; drawn between husky whines, “Mommy, please, I’m so close, fuck-” Your face would flush, legs beginning to tremble before the whole feeling was ripped away from you, Wanda’s grip leaving as the buzz would click off. With shaky breaths, your eyes would rise to meet hers- only to see a teasing grin. She’d pat your arms, gently coaxing you off of her thigh, the few sparks of friction from that not enough to bring you anywhere close to your release. You’d blink, thoughts thickened and reeling, brow furrowed ever so slightly for her- and Wanda loved it. 

“You did so well for your first lesson, dear..” She’d croon, brushing herself off as she’d rise to her feet, leaving you on her cluttered desk. “But, Professor, I didn’t-” You’d begin and she’d silence you right there, hand rising to close your jaw shut again. 

“And you won’t come unless you call me by my title, darling. You’ve received your correction for your first mistake- and for stealing from me,” You nodded slowly, absorbing her words as though they were molasses, and her smile only widened at how dazed she’d made you. “And if you disobey again when you’re with me, alone- then I’ll lower your grade by five points. Understand?” 

If you were in any kind of fog before, you cleared it from your thoughts immediately. “Yes, very clear- uhm,” You pause, noticing the stain on her pant leg where your pussy had ground into the fabric, and you feel your face warm. Wanda would shift her stance and you’d look up- she leaned above you, a single brow raised. You’d swallow, keeping your eyes on her completely, “Yes, Mommy- I understand.”

“Good girl.” That was the right answer. She’d smile at you, her praise going straight to your cunt. Could she not have given you a few more seconds? Maybe you could’ve gotten off without her noticing. She’d interrupt your mind with a quick peck on the lips, and you felt your wits slow, swimming with thoughts of her mouth. Oh, that was why- couldn’t get away with anything if you didn’t think anything at all. Wanda’s grin would only intensify as she’d watch you dress, clothing rumpled from the haste it had been taken off. After a few minutes, you were back to prim and proper..besides your racing heart and flush whenever Wanda so much as moved. “This was great..” You’d murmur, pressing the wrinkles from your shirt, gaze flicking back up to Wanda’s- your professor still watching you with a smooth, secretive smirk. 

“Of course it was, dear..but it’s still nice to hear you say that. Anything for my best student,” She’d wink at you and you’d fold, feeling your palms clam up. Since when were you this weak in the knees? She’d settle at her desk again, her hands clasped together on its wooden grain. You’d be taller than her now, with her sitting down- and yet there was an aura she commanded that you couldn’t outdo. You turn to leave without any further fanfare but her voice would seize you again, just as warm as her touch. “I’ll be expecting you after tomorrow’s classes, then? I think some…after-hours remedial work for my course would do you well.” 

Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom, again? You’d leave her hall with a bright smile, a reply, and a secret. Your answer? The same as before - Fuck. Yes. 

And your secret?

You’d stolen the ‘pen’ again.

[suguruplsr]

Your daddy’s bestest friend

✰ ✰ ✰ your daddy’s best friend is so nice !

જ⁀➴ it should be despicable how long i’ve spent on this so the warnings might not be accurate and maybe a few typos i looked over 🙁

,, dads best friend toji! whose also a dilf! x fem!reader, porn with little plot , small fic , pet names (sweet girl, darlin’, sweetheart, baby, princess) , age gap (reader in college, 20’s) , oral (m & f receiving) , unprotected , dumbification , overstimulation , degrading (wrds: whore, slut, brat) , slapping (like twice) , brat taming , lots of cum, reader gets like really horny at some point—

divider from @/cafekitsune

you were happy that your dad was finally able to go out and enjoy his life while in his late 40's, now no longer having to hover over his daughter, or take care of her all on his own.

being in college, still living with your parent, and having a part time job as a server had it's lows, but with the help of your dad and a few generous tips at work, you knew you'd finally able to move out his house in a few months. much to his dismay.

the idea of finally being a independent adult and living on your own was as exciting as it was scary. even your dad was a little worried from how eager you were to leave him, and maybe you did feel some dread about leaving.

Well, the dread of not being able to see the new friend your dad made some months ago, Toji, whom you've gotten accustomed to seeing on their football nights and eventually, every other day.

he was laid back and chill with no care in the world almost. his muscular figure always sprawled out on the couch, giving you casual greetings with a smug smirk and pet names whenever your dad wasn't around. after a week or two of coming over, you began to see him around the house often.

the annoyance of him constantly coming over slowly dissipated and now you enjoy noticing those fleeting glances he gave you. knowing well that you were doing the same.

It's just that, sometimes, you couldn't help but  sneak down to the kitchen for a few snacks or drinks while they watched the game. just so you could eye him a for a good few seconds. he surely had to be in his 30's, despite the rough tone of his voice, and his obvious older age. but there's no way someone who like him, was around your fathers age.

and perhaps you've let your eyes trail a bit lower some times, trying to go unnoticed as you visibly gulp at the bulge that peeked through his pants. always excusing yourself to be alone to those scenarios of how you'd make sure you get at least one night with him before you leave.

thinking about his large build that towered over you. huge hands that would cup your body just right. you could tell just from the way he has to spread his legs wide to get comfortable, that he had a thick cock. 'he'd definitely be a good fuck' , you always thought to yourself.

and maybe today could be your chance.

"Dad, i'm not a child. you know I don't need to be watched over."

You crossed your arms with a small huff, your disapproving eyes meeting your fathers. Okay, you were a little excited that you'd be alone with Toji, but your judgement got in the way.

"I'm leaving for over a week sweetie, I just want to make sure you're going to be taken care of."

Your dad sighed reassuringly, shaking his head and parting from the hug, opening the door of his black 2013 ford edge SE sport. "I love you sweetheart. Toji i’m sure you—"

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of her." Toji waved him off with a smile, you following in suit, ignoring the dangerous way those words rolled off his tongue as your dad pulled off. you couldn't help but feel as if there was another meaning to them

After wards you both walked in, Toji watching as you walked to the stairs. "You're a daddy's girl aren't ya?" he smirks, sitting on the couch and grabbing the remote.

"Well he's who I grew up with so it's only natural." your voice got quieter with each word as you watched his legs instinctively spread to get comfortable. your eyes flickered back up to his, embarrassment flooding your body when you saw his eyes already looking at you.

"Mind getting closer? Couldn't hear ya sweet girl." he chuckles, putting down the remote and gesturing you over to him. his eyes had a small gleam to them that almost made your knees buckle as you walked over to him. sitting on the other end of the couch.

Eventually you two ended up talking about more than just your dad. he even told you about his son and that he was currently co-parenting. while you told him all about your college life, from the nerve wracking work to the frat parties you occasionally attended.

You didn't even realize how much time had past until Toji was asking what pizza you'd like so he could order. which led to you two to watching a horror movie which he had chosen.

"How can they be so stupid.." your rolled your eyes, watching the classic 'pick me blonde girl' die with her boyfriend. you had unconsciously laid your head on his shoulder long ago, small comments about the characters leaving your lips every few minutes.

"s'posed to be entertainment." he replied with a chuckle, amused by your distain. "wanna watch somethin' else?" you could feel his voice vibrating against your body.

"this'll be fine. just wanna see how it ends." you sigh, reaching over to the counter on his side, only to feel his hand clutch your waist. "don't want ya to spill anything." he mumbles, guiding you back as he hands you your drink.

Yet he didn't move his hand, the pads of his fingers pressing comfortably into your skin and massaging you. after a few moments of silence and hidden glances you decided to take your chance, letting him put up your drink and while you swiftly leaned more into his hold.

his hand was draped across your back and your head on his chest. "well aren't you gettin' comfortable.." he hums, holding your legs on his lap, his other hand moving along your thigh. "maybe." your purr with a smile, watching as his eyes looked down at you with a look that made your stomach turn in excitement.

"You don't really care about the movie do you?" he smirks, his tone low as his hands nearly slip under your shorts, close to the hem of your panties. "Not really. I got other entertainment." you said smugly, moving your hips so his hands could reach further up your shorts. "fuckin' knew it" he says breathlessly, squeezing your thigh and pulling you fully onto his lap, your legs around his thighs.

"Saw you starin'.. those frat boys don't take care of ya?" the pad of his thumb pressed your bud through your flimsy underwear. rubbing around to feel your wetness. "they don't do a good job y'know.. want someone more experienced." you smile, holding onto his shoulders as you sat up and let him pull down your shorts.

he sighs at the sight of you, only in a tight t-shirt and underwear. on his lap. "I'll take care of ya sweetheart, sittin' so pretty f'me." his fingers slid your underwear to the side, one hand holding them to the side and the other slowly sliding up and down your folds.

"Make sure you take, o-oh! um.. extra care of me." his middle finger teased around your hole before pushing in, making you take a sharp breath. he chuckles at your stammering, placing a kiss on your nipples that poked through your t shirt. "I got you baby."

his finger curls inside you in a back and forth motion, slowly inching deeper and spreading your walls wider for him to slide in his ring finger. the feeling made you squirm, “Toji!” you whine in his ear and fall more into his hold, much to his enjoyment.

"your hear that? what a messy girl you are.." he groans, his voice having a teasing edge. you held back your moans, listening to the squelching sound of your cunt wetting his fingers. you felt him move your underwear more, gently pressing his thumb on your bud and rubbing it.

a broken moan escapes your lips at the stimulation, your thighs beginning to shake as you rolled your hips deeper onto his fingers. "m'close! please, just like that. please make me cum!" you whimper, nails digging into his back as you chased the feeling building up inside you.

"oh look at you.. gonna make a mess on me. sweet girl?." he murmurs in your ear, his fingers scissoring your hole. the movement of his thumb started to become faster while his tongue licked your hard buds through your shirt. making the hot feeling of your release rush through you.

your pussy squeezed his fingers tight as you came, a loud porn-worthy moan leaving your lips. he let you continue to ride out your orgasm, his fingers slow and tantalizing, until your moans died down into small blabbering.

"so fucking hot." he groans, removing his fingers and finally pulling you in for a kiss. your lips sloppily mesh together as you unbuckle his jeans. "want you so bad. please." you whine, struggling to undress him amidst heated moment.

"you got me spoiling you huh? i got you sweet thing. just take this off baby." he pulled the strap of your underwear, standing up and undressing himself. you eagerly followed, then sitting up on the couch, on your knees so you were eye level with the thick girth put in front of you.

"can i?" you mumble, glancing up at Toji. your mouth practically watering at the sight of his thick hard cock dripping with pre cum. so tauntingly close to your lips. "of course darlin’." his smirk was wiped off his face at the feeling of your hand's beginning to jerk his cock.

moving closer, you stuck out your tongue, his pre falling into your mouth. a guttural sound rumbled through his body from your filthy act. his cock twitching with need. "fuck. c'mon baby ne—" you cut him off by leaning up and wrapping your tongue around his tip.

your lips slid onto his cock and you swirled your tongue around him hungrily. flickering your eyes up, you studied him with a look of desire. the sound of his groans made your pussy clench on nothing but air. his hand reaches down and runs through your hair, nearly gripping it every time you kissed and licked one of the veins along his cock. but Toji wasn’t going to ruin your fun tonight, he had days to ram into those cute glossy lips of yours.

"could cum just like this." he says breathlessly a small whine, nearly, falling from his lips. he closes his eyes with a mutter praise when your mouth took almost all of him in. you hummed, slowly sliding your mouth along him and setting a good pace, one hand holding onto his thigh while the other wrapped around the base of his cock. matching the pace of your mouth.

he bites his lip, looking down at you with hazy eyes and slowly grinding himself into your mouth. "m'gonna cum. keep it in your mouth. gotta see how disgusting you are, heh" you acknowledge him with a small hum, sucking him off with a sudden fervor that made him cover his grunts as he spills into your mouth.

you milked him, all of his cum tainting your mouth white. you stick out your tongue that was heavy with his seed, “gonna turn you into a dirty slut. swallow it f’me princess.” Toji groans, noticing your how your thighs clenched together. you came just from sucking him off. making him chuckle and bend down to you, pushing you back on the couch as he pries your legs open.

“pretty pussy leakin’ cus of me? how cute.” you meet his eyes as you swallow his thick cum, savoring the salty taste. “did so well for you Toji! please fuck me. wanna cum on your cock..” you plead, squirming at the feeling of his hands playing with the cum that stuck to your skin all around your pussy. “since you asked so nicely” he says lowly, sitting beside you and moving you onto his lap.

your cock hungry self immediately grabbed his tip, lining him with your hole and then taking him all in one go. your pussy slamming down on his cock.

“fuuuuckkkk! y-you know how to take dick huh?” he grunts, holding your thighs down tightly as he tries to not lose himself in your tight cunt. you clenched around him, body slumped against his chest as you already felt another orgasm approach. “Toji please! let me move, wanna cum!” you whine, tears building at the way you pussy twitched around his girth. making your mind feel fuzzy.

before you could continue your rant, Toji held you up by your waist, then slamming you back down. a smug smile playing on his lips at the sight of your eyes immediately rolling back, cute little moans leaving you. “you’re a fucking brat—“ he does it again, adding a slap to your ass as you come back down on his cock. “but it’s okay, just gotta—“ he groans, slamming you down on him again before switching your positions into a mating press, shuffling a pillow underneath you before laying you on it.

“just gotta put you in your place. damn slut.” he smirks down at you, reducing you into blabbers of his name and how good his cock is as he thrusts into you. “where did my cock drunk whore go?” he mocks, his cock deep as he wipes the fat tears that rolled down your face, then he slaps your breast, watching how it jiggled while he thrusted into you.

“Toji! m’sorry! was t-too greedy, fuck!” you sob, taking another thrust, hands trying, and pitifully failing, to push his pelvis away. he was wrecking your puffy pussy. “i ain’t ask all that.” he swats your hands away, instead pinning them up and beginning to quickly thrust into your soaking cunt.

“might forgive you if you cum on this cock. said you was gon’ do that right? go ahead. dumb slut.” he tugs your body higher with your wrists, hitting your pussy at an angle that made your thighs shake. straining as he feels his cock about to spurt into you. “gonna cum for you Toji!!” you cry clenching tightly around him, your messy pussy cumming all over him while he shoots his seed into you.

“this pussy is a fuckin’ vice.” he groans, slowly pulling out of you, hushing your whines with a deep kiss, pulling you onto his lap as he gets comfortable on the couch. he begins kisssing away your tears and sobs. “toji.. fuck i can—“

he kisses you, the massaging of his hands into your plush body slowly bringing you from your high. “shh, s’okay. gotta fuck you in the shower. messy, just like this.”

[dev1lm4n]

winter coat

read pt. 2 offering here!

pairing: jackson-era!joel miller x f!reader

summary: in which you gave a blowjob to trade for a winter coat back in the dark days, little do you know, that same guy is now your neighbor.

warnings: explicit (18+), details of blowjob, prostitution, unspecified age gap.

word count: 1.3k

notes: this is my first time writing a proper fic so im so sorry if i fucked things up ^^

The last time you saw that man was from a rather precarious point of view. A sight in which only a selected few could indulge in, perhaps several of his actual lovers from the old world and a line of nameless whores from the new world. You in particular fall in the nameless whores category, which sounds faintly depressing if you were to go into detail, but it's not the worst thing per say. You'd say that it's a fair trade for a winter coat.

An incredibly warm winter coat that's fucking lined with actual padding and not the shitty fraying kind either. To add on to that, it comes in a pretty periwinkle shade. Frigid temperatures, brisk winds, and snow wouldn't be as agonizing with the new addition. It's not a terrible view either, especially if you were to focus more on the little things happening all around you in contrast to the elephant in the room.

Your blown out pupils somehow managed to make out the figure that's standing in front of you, hazily focusing on one thing before searching for another to be interested in. First point of interest being the beads of sweat that's dribbling down his jugular vein, following each and every curves of his clavicle until it dipped all the way down his sun-kissed skin and onto the thick of his flannel. He's always wearing flannels. You're not sure if that's some sort of fashion choice he made or if it's just a consequence to the fucked up new world order.

Either way, your interest made it's way upwards towards the scruff patch right around his jaw. Right underneath the thin line of grimace he wore. How he bit his curved lip, sandwiching it between his canines before letting out what seems to be a deep groan. Was it of blissful pleasure or of annoyance that you weren't enveloping his cock further than he desired? You couldn't decide just yet when your glossy eyes flickered towards his eyes.

His gaze was penetrating the air all around you, if that was even possible to begin with. It's dull and tired as if he hadn't slept for days on end. Crow's feets provided what you felt was a sweet decoration on each corners of his half-lidded eyes. He's furrowing, the small wrinkles between his eyebrows and the broader ones on his forehead scrunched up just the right amount. You'd chalk up that he's a lot older than you. Probably has seen how jolly life was like before humanity went under. You were having the time of your life scrutinizing his every delectable features when you could feel yourself being pushed even further against the thick of his cock.

Enough that your nose is grazing right where his shaft ends. Enough to have you breathless and moaning against his warm tip. He's getting rougher and way more sloppy you think. The sloshing noises grew lewd and deafening. A drop of pre-cum trickled down the ends of your gaping lips, smeared onto the polyester of your lengthy shirt. Arousal steamed your vision and clouded your hearing. He was heavy against the base of your tongue, but you're not in any position to complain. Not when you're willingly kneeling for him, letting him fuck your throat with wild abandon, just for you to trade with a nice pair of winter coat.

That man is now standing in front of you once again and you're about to loose it. This time, he's only showing glimpses of his ruggedness from behind a comically large front door. His glare traveled with unnerving thoroughness. Up and down, left to right, as if deciding whether or not you're a threat to the integrity of his house. Everything in your pretty little mind is telling you to bolt out of his front doorstep. Erase the trail that you've left in the chilly white snow. Trade back the flours, eggs, and chocolate you picked up on the market. Forget you've ever thought of showing some odd version of hospitality by baking soft cookies for the new neighbors. But you stood there, frozen.

A puff of air escaped your lips as you opened it ever so slightly to come up with an excuse, to churn up every last bit of your courage to greet him. To greet Joel Miller who you used to whore yourself up to earn a few more ration cards, a few more jackets and socks, or maybe some moonshine to drown your pathetic life with.

He took a step forward, out of the shadow and into an array of orange emitted from the afternoon sun. You thought that perhaps he's decided that you're either pretty enough to entertain or dumb enough not to be a hassle. You couldn't be certain, but he sure has the same ol' grimace accentuating the bows of his lips. God. He even still had those pretty curly locks that came hand in hand with his eyes, even when it's greying on multiple ends. You could even swear that he still had on the same flannel that he used when you blow him for a winter coat. He's still.. handsome no matter how many years passed by. Your homemade cookies shook in its basket as you staggered backwards, maintaining a healthy distance that your pounding heart could tolerate.

Maybe if you rationalize this, things will start being okay. Maybe this situation isn't as bad as you think it is. Maybe.. maybe he forgot who you were. He's dealt with whores of your kind every day of the week, right? You're almost one hundred percent sure that you're not the first and definitely not the last gal to use their bodies as a currency in this fucked up apocalyptic world. So, logically speaking, he shouldn't have remembered any of their faces. He shouldn't have remembered your face.

Unfortunately for you, Joel Miller doesn't work by the logics and he's here calling you out by your real name. It rolled off his tongue like thick honey. Smoothly, but with just enough caution. He used the version that you've only told a handful of people, even when you're in the safe embrace of Jackson. The version that you don't remember telling him, but apparently you did in the midst of doing unspeakable things with him. You were aghasted. Realization hit you like a truck, but what absolutely demolished your sanity was the fact that he remembered even after all these years. He remembered the name of the whore he's fucked.

"Hi," you squeaked out. "Hello," he parroted out an equally dry greeting, almost as if he's mocking how much tension grew between the two. You swallowed the liquid bile that's piling up in your trachea, only then are you able to bring your hand forward to offer a stupid basket of cookies. Stupid because you've done little to none research on who your new neighbors was and thought that chocolate chip cookies were a good gift to a smuggler. Joel Miller was all things at once, but never a cookie guy. "I see you're still wearin' that coat." Joel reached over for the basket you've presented, craddling the stiff handle with his large calloused fingers. You knew exactly what he's talking about.

You're still wearing that damned periwinkle winter coat you traded for. The same one you've sucked his cock for like years ago. You turned pink at the thought, embarassed and mortified. It's not like you didn't get a chance to earn new winter equipments here in Jackson. It's just that nothing ever came close to how soft the padding on this damned coat is. "Yeah." You nodded. "Still warm." That's all you had to offer to him, before you trudged back hastily into your doorstep. Clumsily shutting the door close, while he continued to watch from a distance.

Curious.

[luckykittysshowerthoughts]

Do you think Michael is younger than simeon and/or lucifer, personally he gives those vibes but id love to hear from you

Does he give younger sibling vibes? Yes.

Do I think he's a younger sibling? No.

And I think that's the point.

When it comes to age, I see Lucifer and Michael as being around the same age, while Simeon is significantly younger. In S3, it's mentioned that Lucifer and Michael are "like twins", and while this was meant in a more metaphorical sense than a literal one, I do think them being around the same age makes it work better. Maybe one is a little older than the other, but with a very small gap- at least by angel standards, perhaps not by human standards. Like, how twins talk about one being x minutes younger or x minutes older, for seemingly immortal beings like angels maybe that's a much longer period of time like decades or even centuries.

If one of them is a bit older than the other, I think it's actually Michael. Most biblical lore and mythos tends to portray him this way, as the first angel, and I wouldn't be surprised if this is the case in the game as well.

In a way, I think Michael's immaturity is more poignant as an older sibling. He's supposed to be the mature one, the dependable one, the one who has everything under control, but he's just... not. Instead, he watched Lucifer, his younger brother, become everything he was supposed to be. As Satan said in season three:

"Lucifer embodied everything he wasn't, but wished he could be."

Now, this could simply be a childish admiration of "looking up to" someone. Sort of like Luke, in a "I want to be like you someday" way. But, I think it's far more interesting, far more original, far more in-line with Michael's character as I know it, to think about it in a more sad, longing way. In the sense that Lucifer was the "him" that he never was, the part of him that he always felt he was missing. And that he compensated for his feelings of inadequacy by idolizing and projecting onto his counterpart.

I think looking at it this way also makes Michael all the more tragic. Someone who has struggled to live up to his own image as the first and greatest his whole life, who clung to Lucifer to cope with his shortcomings as a big brother, had his worst nightmare come true: Lucifer isn't around anymore, and he has to run the entire Celestial Realm alone. The wishy-washy, childish person he is inside, having no one left to hide behind as he picks up the broken pieces of the Celestial Realm left in the war's wake. He now is, definitively, the highest authority.

I talked in a previous post about how wildly insecure Michael seems- how I see him as “someone who’s running from himself and the image he’s cultivated”- and this plays right into that. The older brother who never quite grew into being the older brother.

To me, that's a lot more interesting than just another little brother looking up to his big bro.

[gillianthecat]

My Thoughts as I Watched Episodes 2 and 3 of Between Us.

in which your intrepid reporter files her article two weeks late

I actually watched them and wrote this two weeks ago, but didn't post it because I had vague plans to write more about them. But I want to catch up on the next two episodes, so any additional thoughts will wait for after that. The summary is: I continue to love the show, and it continues to make sense to me without seeing Until We Meet Again

Episode 2

- Ok, I think my initial prediction will be laughably wrong. It looks like so far Win is absolutely not trying to hide how he feels. Team though is. It's all very cute, I'm really into their dynamic. And they have CHEMISTRY, my goodness. I loved Team's reaction after Win left his room—his big sigh, his trying to hide his big smile even from himself.

- I just find Win so utterly charming. It makes the whole thing work; he might come across as a bit of a creep otherwise. I love his little smirk to Tul as he gets in the elevator.

- OH MY GOODNESS! Is there going to be a romance between Tul and Win's older brother?! - A gamer, internet stranger romance? I am so here for this. (Also Tul's actor has gotten even hotter as he's gotten older.)

- Ah, besides age gap we have a sprinkling of Forbidden Romance. Win is not supposed to be dating his juniors in the club. I dig it.

- Speaking of age gap (and perhaps this is because I've been watching Cutie Pie) hearing Team call Win Hia is very seductive. Especially that he's contouring to do it after Win asked for it in the heat of the moment. Whew. I cannot blame Win for being captivated by this boy.

- It does feel like this is going to be a very simple story—just two people fumbling their way toward falling in love—without a lot of plot happening around them. Interesting with all the reincarnation drama happening in the background. Since I like the characters and their actors, I like this simplicity.

- Also, now I can see why everyone was so frustrated that Even Sun was bad. These two are so good together.

- I love how much they talk during while making out. I love how conversation about consent and who they are to each other are made such a natural part of it, and also really hot. That "kiss me" !!! I also love how much they're into slamming each other into walls. These two can seriously convey desire and lust. It really feels like they want to fuck.

- I like how Team is worried about what he means to Win, and still figuring out what it means to desire someone, but he doesn't hold back sexually.

- I'm nervous that they will be discovered at some point; that no one will see us felt very foreshadow-y. And I really liked the questions that Team was asking - is either of us using each other, what happens if we break up - both because they're good questions and because it feels like something he would do. But it also felt a bit foreshadowing.

Episode 3

- Ooh, another side romance? That brings the total up to five romance pairs in this show (so far!). That is a lot to balance, I hope the script can manage it. And it's Fee from My Only 12%! (I had to look him up, he looked familiar but I couldn't figure out from where.)

- I saw the Wabi Sabi logo, and I realized there were several overlapping actors, but somehow it wasn't until now that I connected this was made by the same production company as My Only 12%. It makes sense, although the overall feeling of the show is different, a lot of the things I like productions wise are the same. They both feel like money was spent on making a professional product. And they both are good at making friend groups feel natural, which is not always the case. (And also why Sea looked familiar - he was Cake's university friend Auk in My Only 12%.

- Oooh that drunk/flashback scene. I will come back to that later.

- One thing I love is that I feel like I can trust Win not to try anything while Team is drunk because he was so careful to make sure that Team was sober enough to consent the first time. There are many drunken hook ups in BLs that I've loved (Love Mechanics, Big Dragon, in its own toxic way), but that thread of toxicity doesn't fit their dynamic, and it's such a relief to trust that the show won't go there.

- Team's actor plays drunkenness well. I love the way Win responds to it, switching between feeling he needs to be the stern mentor figure, annoyance, fond indulgence, and feeling desire, despite his best intentions.

- I feel vindicated in my initial snap judgements of their characters. (Well, and also this show did a good job introducing them.) Team literally calls Win "the cool one" and Team is becoming more and more chaotic now that the he's no longer on his beginning-of-the-school-year best behavior. (Also several people have affirmed to me that he is indeed a chaos monkey.)

- This flashback! I guess these two won't be all sex and awkward flirting after all, they will have their own angst and pain. It was hinted at in their breakfast date when Team was so shaken by the ordinary question of, "do you have siblings," but honestly I got distracted and forgot. I suspect this was something that was not known in UWMA, it's the kind of secret that wouldn't be shared about the side couple.

- Darling Win's response. I think I will write a separate list about what I like about this pair, because there are a lot of things.

- I love how Manow and Team are teasing Pharm about Dean. Seeing these hints does make me want to watch that series more now.

- Tul and Waan! I already love them. I assume they're brand new for Between Us; there's no reason that they would have been in Dean and Pharm's awareness. Tul has such a crush! The way he's smiling at his phone!

- I guess with the way UWMA opened I shouldn't be surprised by this traumatic memory of his brother drowning. But it's still hard to watch.

- Ok, but how are the dorms at the university so enormous! And singles! This can't be what any actual university dorms are like in Thailand, right? I lived in doubles half that size freshman year.

- I have a lot of thoughts comparing this, Love in the Air and Big Dragon all to each other. I'll save most of it for another post, but I'm intrigued by the different depictions of a dominant older character winning over a bratty younger character. I don't know if Win and Team are intended to be explicitly dom and sub, but the age gap, the power difference, Win's caretaking tendencies and Team's... whole thing (traumatized, anxious, pouty) have created that dynamic between them anyways. And I really like it here!

[justwosothings]

I agree with you people are being too hard on Kyah, especially since no one knows any details, they’re just guessing and assuming. I’ve seen people be extremely critical of her in many places, accusing her of grooming. Any time a relationship has more than like a 4 year age gap a lot of woso fans react like this. Of course adults shouldn’t be dating children and coaches shouldn’t be dating their players, or where there are other power imbalances, these are givens. But dating an 18 year old isn’t illegal, there’s not inherently something wrong with dating someone younger than you. Some people might not like it, but that’s a different thing.

Are people not seeing the world? It happens everywhere, all the time, people are in relationships with age differences. Perhaps not always for the right reasons. I know when you’re 16, 2 years younger or older feels like a huge age difference. But when you’re 30 maybe people will date people 8-10 years younger or older. At least we live in a time where women don’t need to depend on a partner for financial support, we are free to be in relationships purely because we want to. I just don’t really understand what the point is about critizising Kyah. Everyone will have their own opinion. What are we meant to do with accusations of grooming for example, what is it supposed to lead to? conclude that she’s a bad person and condemn her, and that’s it?

Of course an adult dating a child is not ok, I never ever would try to say it is.

Again like you said I’ve seen a lot of people throw around the word grooming and my reaction was purely to that and how stuff like that if not true at all can really damage a lot of people.

Criticism is one thing, that’s someone’s opinion of another’s behaviour. Which like I said in my first response opinions are one thing and of course people will have opinions about that and that makes sense but accusing someone of something is not the same thing.

[sarcastic-trash]

Vampire | Olivia Rodrigo

First off, I'd like to congratulate Olivia Rodrigo for her success thus far. She's doing so well for herself and as an afab individual, it makes me ecstatic to see the success of afab people and women (cis and trans alike).

However, it breaks me a little how this girl is blossoming and putting forth a song (that is obviously about something personal) and people are using it to fuel a "rivalry". Haven't we learned to stopping pitting women against each other?

So if you've been following the song you know people theorize that Olivia Rodrigo's new song, Vampire is about Taylor Swift...

There's many reasons why I don't believe this and I just got to call bull shit.

1. As I've already made the point - people want to pit women - AFAB people as well - against each other all the time. We can't succeed. We're always competing and fighting and all that bullshit because people pit us against each other. The finest example that I can think of was Olivia's fan's harassing Sabrina Carpenter. Olivia said herself - she didn't want that! Hailey Bieber and Selena Gomez is yet another example - neither want their fans to harass one another but, the fans don't listen!

2. This song seems more like it's about an age gap relationship or being groomed. Now this doesn't disprove the song is about Taylor - because grooming isn't always sexual - however, we're getting there

Twilight

So, Olivia Rodrigo is known to be a fan of Twilight (she must've been on cloud 9 when Taylor Lautner commented on her Vampire announcement on Instagram). What is Twilight about? A girl who gets in a relationship with a vampire - that's literally 100s of years of.

Multiple people have called out that Twilight isn't exactly the greatest depiction of a healthy relationship. Because it's not. A teenager with a centuries old vampire is icky. Dare I say, predatory. In Vampire, Olivia compares the subject of the song to a vampire. Pairing that with the line: "Girls your age know better" It's pretty obvious she's implying this person is older than her. Additionally the music video references both the movies Carrie and Twilight. Perhaps the nod to Twilight was to tell people this person older than her was a romantic interest - like Edward was a romantic interest to Bella. So that alone points me to believing this song was more about a personal relationship, most likely a romantic relationship as well.

Carrie

In Carrie, the main character named Carrie is disliked by her peers at school and they make her prom queen just to pour pig guts on her head. In fact, I believe this could be why Olivia's naming her new album Guts. Now peers could mean fellow popstars or people her age. Olivia has gotten her fair share of hate as she gains popularity. Due to how young she is, it's typically from people who are the same age as herself. So, to be frank, I personally see this as people her own age, typically people who aren't celebrities necessarily, who spend their time hating on her.

Whether that be her singing voice, her lyricism, or those TikToks comparing her songs to other people's.

Blood sucker, Fame fucker

So the lyrics:

"Blood sucker,

Fame fucker,

Bleedin' me dry like a goddamn vampire."

Now this is the biggest reason why I call bs in the Taylor Swift theory. If you know anything about vampires you know they not only feed on blood but, they feed on energy. They feed on your life force - be it your energy or your blood. They steal from you. This is a lot like the song, Leeches by Melanie Martinez. Because of the theme, they sound completely different and use different analogies to get the same theme across.

Olivia wrote this song about someone who benefits from her fame. Taylor is already famous as it is, she wouldn't benefit from leeching off of Olivia. Because of this, I think Olivia wrote this song about someone who she dated, who was using her.

And the most frustrating thing is seeing a song that is so blatantly about being groomed and used in a relationship be watered down just so people can pit two women against each other. It fucking disgusts me.

[melodyscupoftea]

Pro's and Con's of younger brothers!

Happy Monday!!

Melody here with a brand new story!

Honestly, last week's post was a total flop! I admit it was a pretty uninteresting article. This week I'm in with something new.

So, I have two younger brothers. Today is my youngest brother's birthday. He is turning four today, and if you haven't guessed already, we have a pretty big age gap. 

I've had to live with a sibling since I was three, so by now, I know all the pros and cons of having younger brothers. I have a lot of cousins too, and most of the time, we treat each other like siblings. Many people think my mom has five kids when they see me with my cousins, but that is not the case. For the record, I have two cousins from my dad's side and nine from my mom's side.

Anyways, let's begin!

Pro: They make you laugh till you break a bone!

My brothers are the funniest duo! Having younger brothers who make you laugh till you're rolling on the floor with your hands on your tummy is perhaps one of the biggest blessings in your life. My little brothers always want to make other people happy. Even in the most awkward situations, they can manage to get a laugh or two. 

They crack incredible jokes and do the silliest of things. 

Because of them, I can have a nightmare of a day and still come home to genuine joy! 

Con: He asks for too much attention!

Sometimes my brother tries too hard to impress people. For instance, once we went to a wedding. My little brother sat at the table with our cousins and tried to get the older people to laugh at one of his jokes. What he said was the most pathetic and senseless statement ever! It got pretty weird to sit there any longer. 

When he tries too hard, he ends up embarrassing us. 

Pro: He's there to protect you!

My youngest brother is THE MOST PROTECTIVE person I know. Any time anyone tries to do anything to me, he's there to beat them up. 

A few months back, we were at a friend's place when my brother's friend (aged 9) pretended to hit me. Even though I wasn't wailing or pretending to be hurt, my three-year-old brother bit the port boy. My mom was pretty mad that he did, but honestly, I was impressed. 

He always talks about what he'd do if someone tried to hurt me, and considering he's just four, I'd say that I have earned a protector for life!

Try and find someone as protective as him!

Con: He's stubborn!

Whenever my mom and dad are at work, my youngest brother comes to me and asks me to help him find a cure for his boredom. Either he wants to play with a phone or tablet, or demands things we can't give him. Once, my mom left for work and he asked his older brother for candy. 

When we told him there was none, he demanded that one of us go to the store and get him some candy. Obviously, we told him we couldn't because the door was locked FROM THE OUTSIDE! 

He got so cranky and almost started a tantrum, but we got him to calm down by making him watch a show.

Pro: They're your best friends.

As a kid, I made tons of friends. My family moved quite a few times because of that, I lost many friends. I also struggled to make friends in a new environment. I hated the kids in my class to the point where I only went to school to learn. In my free time, I listen to music or read books. When you have younger brothers, you don't need any friends. They're always here by your side, and even though they don't understand EVERYTHING, they still support you. My brothers and I have our own secret handshake. We read our favourite books together. We share a room, so before we fall asleep, we talk about music, shows, school and just about everything under the sun. We watch the same shows and play similar games. The best part is you never get tired of them the same way they never get tired of you. No matter where you go, you can bring 'em along.

Con: You have to share your friends.

My brothers make friends with ease. I mean, who wouldn't love an adorable face that comes with a pure heart? For me, on the other hand, I have quite the struggle. A few months back, we went to the wedding of a friend. I was surprised to see many of my childhood friends. We reunited and had dinner together, my brother felt left out, and I got a yelling for not including him. What would you have done if you met some of your childhood friends (keep in mind, they're all female) and your brother wanted to hang out with them?

Pro: You share every victorious moment with them.

Whether you're standing on a stage with a trophy, or winning an argument against your cousin, your brothers will be there to watch you in your best moments. I remember winning an award in fourth grade for candle decorating. I thought I wouldn't win, but when I heard my name on the speaker, I couldn't help but feel anything but surprised. After I picked up my certificate and turned around to join my class, I saw my brother. He was like, "That's my sister!"I was so happy, not because I won but because my brother was proud of me.Even at home, whenever my grandfather said something provoking me, my little brother would stand up against him for me.

Con: You share every embarrassing moment with them.

Of course, sharing every good moment also means sharing every embarrassing moment. The number of times I've had a horrible moment in front of them is countless! Once when I was with my brothers on the school bus, an older student got mad at me for something (I don't remember what right now) I felt horrible after they yelled at me. I wanted to cry. I turned to my brother who looked disappointed. He sat down with his back towards me. I couldn't help but feel like a failure of a sister. Back then, I was just ten years old, it was perhaps one of the worst days of my life.

Pro: You can test out your next moves.

When I find a new meme or joke, I run to my brother. I tell him all the new jokes I find, and about new books, competitions or opportunities I plan on taking up. I tell him about my blog and my Wattpad stories. I show him my new songs and go to him for ideas before I display them to others.

Con: He steals your next move.

Sometimes when I tell him a joke for the first time, he likes it so much that he just HAS to go tell someone else. He takes credit for your joke or your ideas. Honestly, it is so annoying when he does that. There was this one time I made a joke about Chinese Rap, he went and told his friend that joke and before I knew it, he owned the joke! I was pretty mad at him but I was also impressed when he twisted the joke and made it funnier. At the end of the day, he's my brother and I'm proud of him.

Well, that's all I have for today!

I hope you enjoyed the article, tell me about your sibling in the comments below. If you're an only child, I'd really like to ask how you're doing without a sibling.

I'll see you next time with a new cup of tea.  Sit back, stretch high and sip your tea!

[ashthehermit]

Adaptation Station: House of the Dragon

I am a nerd, and I tend to watch shows purely for adaptational value.  I can't say why this is, but I enjoy the comparison.  My favourite recent example is the Boys, which makes a hefty set of changes to the source material.  I shan't open that door here, because I just finished episode ten of House of the Dragon and I need to put all of these thoughts somewhere.  I think that House of the Dragon is well worth the watch, perhaps even better than the best of Game of Thrones, but that its best qualities are adapted in.

I should say that I have a particular bias.  House of the Dragon is adapted from a variety of source material, mostly from George R.R. Martin's lore book Fire and Blood, along with two short stories, The Princess and the Queen, and the Rogue Prince.  I was no big fan of Fire and Blood when it came out. 

 It is written as a fake history from the perspective of a maester within the universe.  It is long, it is dense, and it skates over character moments as one would expect a history to.  The maester has no understanding of these characters' inner lives, and why should he?  But the reader does not get any interiority either, a deep shame, as it is one of the defining strengths of A Song of Ice and Fire.  As such, Fire and Blood is long, repetitive, and dry.  The dance of dragons (the specific events of House of the Dragon) only take up the end of the book, and a lot of it is a run through of various dragon-enhanced battles, with a few good set pieces. One of these set pieces (in my opinion the most memorable) formed the climax of House of the Dragon's season one finale.  A pair of cousins (uncle and nephew, maybe, who can tell with all this incest) get into a dragon battle during a storm, above a castle called Storm's End.  The older cousin, with a bigger dragon, kills the younger as revenge for his eye, lost in a fight when the pair were younger.  So begins the dance.  It is, as a scene, pretty rad.  It's the first of a lot of dragon battles.  It's tragic, as the victim is a sweet character.  It happens during an obvious, but effective bit of pathetic fallacy.  It happens above one of the world's coolest, but never seen, locations.  I watched with high hopes about how it would turn out.  It could be adapted from the page with little to no changes, and still made effective.  It was.  The scene was menacing, especially the shot of the larger dragon, Vhagar, appearing behind the smaller dragon, lit only by lightning.  Yet, to my surprise, there was a significant change from the source material.  In the book, Aemond kills his nephew (maybe) Lucerys out of vengeance.  In the show, he taunts his cousin (I guess), but attempts to stop his dragon from killing him.  His face after Vhagar kills Lucerys anyway tells all.  This was an accident. 

  House of the Dragon as a series is faithful to its source material, in a manner that is fairly surprising considering the varying nature of the source material.  Aemond's little accident is hardly the first, or largest, alteration from Fire and Blood.  (For clarification, I have not read The Princess and the Queen or The Rogue Prince, but I have read The World of Ice and Fire, and Fire and Blood, and I'm told that they contain a lot of similar material).  For starters, the timeline is wholly different.  Alicent and Rhaenyra are the same age when the tale begins, at fourteen.  In Fire and Blood, Alicent is around nine years older than Rhaenyra, and acted as the nurse to Rhaenyra's great-grandfather.  As such, the age gap between Rhaenyra and her half-brother Aegon is larger.  Rhaenyra's future husband, Laenor, too, is much younger than his book counterpart.  His father Corlys Velaryon is also presumably younger.  His wife, Rhaenys, is played by an actress who is 6 years younger than the actor playing Corlys.  In the book, they are 21 years apart.  The show has a timeline that leaps and starts.  At one point there are ten years between episodes.  There is never fewer than six months.  It is really admirable that the show managed to make a coherent narrative out of a history, which at best is a sequence of events.  Usually, stories have a unity of time and space.  It's a classic of Greek tragedy.  The story should take place in a location that's familiar, or at least repeated.  It should also take place over a denoted amount of time, so the audience can stay with the characters and understand them.

Of course, like any rule of writing, this is more of a guideline than an actual rule.  Not every story takes place in one location, nor across a short time period.  It's just that the more you break these rules, the more hazardous a story can become.  Game of Thrones often broke the space part of the rule.  The story didn't take place in one location, it was ever expanding, as evidenced by the title sequence that showed us in each episode where we were headed.  For the first six seasons, it took forever for any character to make their way across the continent.  Many characters engaged in the honoured Westerosi tradition of bumming about the riverlands.  House of the Dragon keeps the characters largely in the same place.  They're within the Red Keep, and when they're not, it's because they've decamped to a family funeral on Driftmark.  There are a few exceptions, but they prove the rule.  Fire and Blood has no consideration of either unity of time or unity of space.  It presents itself as a fictional history that spans over a century.  It focuses primarily on the lives of the Targaryens, but as a family group they are sprawling (even with the incest).  The House of the Dragon title sequence visualises a family tree, and hops down four generations before a living character is even considered.  The show cannot afford to have the sprawl that the source material does.  For one thing, it is as much an adaptation of Game of Thrones as it is of Fire and Blood.  The show cannot afford to change its style greatly, lest it alienate an already disenfranchised audience.  This extends to episode count and structure.  We all know that something big will go down in episode nine, because this is what happened in Game of Thrones.  It also makes less sense to have a long timeline on television.  Changing actors reduces the coherency in characterisation, as a character is being passed off to a new performer.  The show reduces this as a problem by shortening the timeline.  We approach the beginning of the story much later, when Rhaenyra is fourteen instead of eight, so that we will not have to wait long for the real story to start.  It also allows for fewer cast changes.  The show has made it its business to leave the ages of the characters unknowable, so that Fabien Frankel can play Criston Cole from early twenties into middle age, and Matt Smith can walk around the screen in various wigs, the passage of time otherwise inscrutable.  There is one major cast change for Alicent (Emily Carey) and Rhaenyra (Milly Alcock), along with two subsidary changes for Laenor and Laena.  (On a side note, Laena and Laenor are portrayed as younger than Rhaenyra in the show, when it would have been feasible to have them as the same age, therefore reducing the number of cast changes again by one).  The move was effective, as people became attached to the original cast, having enough time with them to appreciate them as performers, whilst allowing praise for the later cast and their ability to mimic their forebears. 

  House of the Dragon gives us far more intimate time with these characters than any of its source material ever could.  The source material, resembling entries on a wikia, skates over characterisation in a manner that makes it appear repetitive.  Alicent seems like a proto-Cersei, her terrible son Aegon nothing more than an older Joffrey.  Rhaenyra may as well be the Daenerys that we never got to see onscreen.  Viserys is Robert Baratheon.  Mysaria has a lot to do with Melisandre, and Fire and Blood characters Tyanna of the Tower and Alys Rivers.  Otto Hightower may as well be a less brutal Tywin Lannister.  Cregan Stark has a certain similarity to his most famous descendant.  It is part of a flaw that I perceive in the worldbuilding.  This world is repetitive.  It scarcely gets any technological advancement, and the political units are consistent and easy to understand.  It is not realistic, but often treated as such by its fans.  The great houses have personality traits that are carried down the generations.  The Starks are always honourable, the Lannisters cunning, the Baratheons tough.  House of the Dragon gives us more intimate scenes.  There are fewer battles (though I expect more are to come), and more conversations over dinner.   It is most different perhaps, in is treatment of women.  The women in Game of Thrones didn't exactly get the short shrift in comparison to the paucity of complex female characters in television, but they weren't narratively wondrous either.  Most of the more complex female characters eschewed femininity to gain character depth (such as Brienne, Arya, Lyanna Mormont, and to an extent Cersei).  This was, of course, not true for everyone.  But characters like Catelyn (who never favoured masculinity over femininity) were killed off.  Characters like Sansa and Daenerys (both women who had to grow into power, without the masculine coded swords favoured by others) were written with less and less complexity as time went on.  House of the Dragon does a little better, but also a little worse.  Alicent is a rare character whose reduction in agency from page to screen increases the complexity of the character.  Instead of being a proto-Cersei who exercises power badly in an attempt to ape the actions of her tyrant father, Alicent is the dutiful daughter and wife who emulates all the traits she is supposed to, but only suffers for it.  She is unabashedly feminine, and explicitly resents Rhaenyra's ability to be feminine and unbeaten by the patriarchy.  This theme is far from subtext.  It's pretty much text.  Rhaenyra, operating under Targaryen exceptionalism, does what she likes.  She sleeps with her uncle and her knight and the captain of the city watch.  All while Alicent is denied all possible sexual freedom.  The costumes did wonders to portray this.  Rhaenyra, who is pregnant twice more than Alicent is, wears dresses that do not emphasise said fact.  Several of her dresses she wears while not pregnant, as they have ties at the front that can be tightened or loosened to accommodate her belly.  Meanwhile Alicent, in the third episode, wears a dress that emphasises her pregnant belly.  Her power (and identity) only come from carrying the king's heirs, while Rhaenyra gets to have power under her own name.  Alicent wears red and pink in the third episode, and a hairnet that ages her.  She dresses in the colours that Viserys' first wife Aemma wears in the opening scene.  Later, Alicent wears dresses that have a similar shape to Aemma, even when she is in green.  Viserys, a far more compelling character in the series than in the book, has an arc focused on the love he has for his first wife.  He seemingly keeps Rhaenyra on as his heir to assuage his guilt for the part he had in the death of her mother (traumatic birth scenes both promoting a feminist point of view, whilst simultaneously being gratuitous).  This character trait makes Viserys more compelling, whilst also making him a worse person.  It makes Alicent more of an object to him.  A comfort he can take to make him forget what he did to his first wife.

In future, I do hope that House of the Dragon removes some of the more gratuitous details of the book.  It has thus far adapted Fire and Blood quite faithfully, while allowing that there is potential doubt, owing to the nature of the book's narrative.  I enjoyed the accidental death of Lucerys so much, because it allowed Aemond guilt.  Instead of being an evil stock character, too similar to his uncle, he is a foolish child, who now has to atone for his actions while fighting on the side of his brother.  Performances, like the one by Tom Glynn-Carney, have pulled back some of the more dire characterisations.  But as we move towards the story's cruellest and cheapest plot point (Blood and Cheese, for those in the know), I honestly hope they change it more.

[sukirichi]

a thing or two (m.)

tutor geto has a thing or two to teach you.

cw. oral sex (f and m receiving), lube, unprotected sex, sweet! geto, halloween setting so priest! geto, age gap, slight body worship, fingering, overall romantic sex, kitchen counter sex, dirty talk, lots of kissing, mutual masturbation, intoxication, pwp, unedited as always eep

note. for my right boob @sixeyesgojo​ my first ever geto fic and i hope it’s to your liking...writing this with a frozen arm and numb fingers weeeee, i almost became a geto simp.

Halloween festivals have never felt livelier in the city. People dressed up in various outfits milled about the events place, your drink nearly sloshing on the ground the more they bumped into you. 

Bass and music boosted from the large speakers smack in the middle of the grounds, and everyone danced to their heart’s content, you and your friends a huge inclusion to the crowd.

You don’t really go out to parties that much. Hell, you don’t even drink.

But after numerous encouragements from your friends, you’re now dressed in she-devil skin-tight black dress, black lipstick, and red horns placed on your head. It’s hard not to feel confident and sexy – the kick of the liquor is settling down as well – when you’ve got human eyes, vampiric red eyes, ghoul sclera lenses and even a fucking Cyclops eye turning your way.

You’re excitedly grinding against your friends, the whoops and cheers mixing in with slurred mumbles of the lyrics.

The night is young and so are you. 

This may have been your third or fourth drink, you don’t really know, but probably some way along the second since you’re not really hammered. You’re somewhat sober enough to feel large hands gripping your hips, a protest of not tonight, Dracula about to leave your lips when you come face to face with a face you never thought you would see here.

Clad in a long black cloak, a silver cross hung around his neck, his dark hair in a neat bun and black earrings a perfect completion to the hauntingly stunning look he pulled off, your throat ran dry.

“Sir Geto?”

“Hey, it’s you,” your tutor spoke up with unmasked interest, his curious eyes trailing down your revealing outfit…the way your dress hugged all your curves and how your breasts are practically popping from your top. Geto smirked, “And please, we’re not studying at home, just call me Geto. Surprised to see you here.”

“Well, it’s Halloween, would be a shame if I didn’t go out,” laughing nervously, you found yourself acting out of habit as you twirled a strand of hair to your finger. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you’d have work.”

“Nah, the boys and I are free for tonight,” he answered with a grin, nodding to where his friends – a really tall white haired man and a bored blond who looks like he’s ready to leave anytime – dancing and drinking at the corner. Geto must’ve felt your unnecessary prolonged stare at his attractive friends for he’s pulling you closer again, not sexually or even hidden with motives, but because it’s hard to hear each other through the music.

“Hey, do you wanna dance?” Nodding, you waved goodbye to your friends. They didn’t really notice considering they’re way too hammered and occupied dancing with others. Surely, they wouldn’t notice your little escapade.

Geto’s warm hands leads you somewhere out the bar and into the open grounds, where cups are already littered on the grass and people are drunkenly shaking their ass to everything and everyone.

It’s a ridiculous sight that has both you and Geto laughing.

“So…you liking the festival so far?”

“It’s…pretty fun,” you admit and loop your arms around him with ease. Normally, you wouldn’t be doing this. 

He may not be your actual professor or teacher, but he’s still a family friend of your friend who’s been tutoring you for the past semester and is basically the only reason you can endure math. Granted, he’s always been deadly attractive, but you’ve never really been affected by it, not up this close, anyway.

But you’re most definitely closer now, and Geto’s forehead is pressed against yours as he sways you both side to side.

“My first time drinking and I feel so light,” Geto hums at your slightly intoxicated eyes, his grin turning gummy when your curious hands trail up his robes to experimentally grope his pecs.

“First time, huh? We’ll I’ll be here to hold you up if you feel dizzy.”

“Thanks,” you beamed up at him. Geto, albeit being at least seven years older, feels so youthful that you’re not really bothered by the age gap. Again, it could be the alcohol, but he feels so warm, so nice, that you lean back to survey him this time around. “You look great, by the way, though you’re dressed up as…”

Geto rolls his eyes before you can finish.

“I know, the priest costume looks weird, but we found it pretty funny so here I am.”

“No, no, it looks great,” you wave off, your smile freezing on your face when a nostalgic song starts to blast through the speakers. In your head, in your head! “Zombies by the Cranberries. A classic.”

Geto’s hands snake around your waist before they hover over your ass, his eyes mischievous and slanted as he mumbles, “It’s a great song to dance with a perfect little devil with.”

You don’t know who leaned it first.

Not like it mattered, when Geto tasted strongly of strawberry flavored bear and cheesecake. An odd combination, even more so with his spicy cologne, but it only has you pulling you in closer to him.

He’s such a great kisser. Legs turned to jelly, knees weakening and lips locking in rhythm to the beat – it feels like it’s just the two of you in that moment. Geto smiles through the kiss, tongue prodding your lips to open before you’re gasping for air. Your attempt to regain air back to your lungs is cut off when Geto leans closer to slip his tongue inside your mouth, greedily sucking on it until you’re moaning in his arms.

Soon enough, you’re both holding on to each other to the point you might as well be fucking openly.

Geto is cupping your cheeks as he excitedly kisses you, his smiles intoxicating and the bubbling laughter he lets out much like music to your ears.

“Yo, Geto, are you sure about this? She looks like a minor, dude,” one of his friends speak up, and that’s when you see his white haired friend – who has extremely azure eyes that you can’t tell whether it’s contacts or not – crossing his arms on his chest, though his amused smirk said otherwise.

If anything, the guy is only suggestive, wiggling his brows up and down as he puts his fingers into a V shape, his tongue poked out.

You snort at his gestures, and just like how Geto did before, he turns your cheeks towards him again, his gaze feral and wanting. “I assure you,” Geto murmurs over your lips, “She’s not.” Eyes wide and all attention to him the way he wants, Geto’s smirk is cunning before he leans down to capture your lips in another heated kiss.

Stumbling back to his apartment turned out to be a lot more challenging. With the urgent need to relieve each other of this burning in your cores, you and Geto have made out everywhere, hands kneading each other’s skin until you fall awkwardly at his bed.

There’s no time to worry about it though. Not when he’s eagerly unbuttoning his robe, his dark hair messed up and a few strands shielding his eyes that glimmer when you struggle to squeeze out of your dress. He helps you get it off before he hovers over you, knocking your knee with his to make you fall open. You’re left completely vulnerable and naked under his predatory gaze, large hands smoothing over your skin – from your ankle, up to your thighs and the dips in your body, before he settles right above your breasts, nipples hard between his fingers.

“Fuck, you look stunning,” he praises, biting his lip at the same time you drunkenly giggle. “Bet you taste perfect too.”

“Only one way to find out, then.”

“Come here,” Get growls and rips off your panties, your half-hearted protests completely missed in his haze of pleasure. Upon seeing you bare for him, wet and pussy lips glistening, Geto groans deep in his chest. “Such a pretty pussy. Shoulda fucked you a long time ago when we were alone for so many hours,” curling his upper lip, he begins to settle down between your legs, peering up from you under his lashes as he teasingly blows air over your core that has you shivering. “I could’ve taught you so many more things, don’t you think?”

“Careful there, father, wouldn’t want you to sin tonight.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to do that to me tonight, sweetheart,” he laughs evilly, joined by you afterwards at the little teasings. “You’re a little devil and I’m nothing but a mortal man. Of course I’d fall to the consequences of my sinful desires.”

Sitting up with your elbows resting on the mattress, you tug him by his cross, hard. “Here’s your one way ticket to hell then,” you dared, letting your legs spread wider and pushing his head down. Geto inhales sharply when the tip of his nose nudges your clit, drawing out a shuddered moan from you. “Feast for yourself.”

“Hmm, you’re a whole ass fucking meal, baby,” he marveled, giving little teasing bites on your inner thigh that you’re sure would leave a mark. “I’m going to devour you.”

Geto isn’t kidding.

You clearly undermined him, or perhaps you knew all along what he could do and you just wanted to bring out this side for him, because riled up Geto who was excitedly sucking on your clit like a man starved had you seeing stars in the whites of his ceiling.

“Hnggrr, G-Geto, fuck!”

“Yeah, you like that?” he chuckles from your pussy, the vibrations of it sending electricity jolting down deep to your core. Geto begins to trail down, his tongue playfully poking your entrance as slick coats his muscle and cheeks, licking and kissing everywhere that you actually find it hard to keep quiet. Narrowing your eyes at him – and you wished you didn’t, because you’ve never seen a more lewd sight before – you slap your palm over your mouth, the only thing keeping your legs apart the strong grip he had on you. “Don’t be shy, babe. We’ve got the whole place to ourselves tonight. Scream as loud as you want. Let the neighbors hear how good I’m fucking you.”

“Y-you’re so lewd, fuck-” you announce, but the sounds of your squelching being sucked by his eager, unquenched self is even more lewd. “Geto, I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Geto just pushes you over the edge, ignoring the way your thighs are shaking and you’re pushing him away once the overstimulation becomes too much to handle. You giggle when he sighs at not being able to eat you out anymore, but his glistening face is a lot more arousing than entertaining. Struggling to catch your breath, Geto smirks at how easily you’ve come undone, groaning as he wipes your juices with his thumb and licking his lips afterwards. He bends forward as he stares at you the whole while, slipping his digit through your mouth in a silent demand for you to taste yourself.

Never pulling away from holding his gaze, you wrap your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue and sucking just hard enough that he absentmindedly humps the air.

“You okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Shut up. You literally ate my soul out,” you stare at the trail of saliva connected to his finger, the image so fucking dirty yet arousing that you begin to clench around nothing. Meanwhile, Geto’s biceps flex as he runs his hand through his hair, and that’s when you see he’s so rock hard that he probably feels uncomfortable. “Do you want me to…?”

“You don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“Seriously, Geto, you’re declining an offer to get your dick sucked?”

“I mean, I’m not against it but-” you shove his boxers down and immediately take him into your mouth, no foreplay at all, and your teeth graze his dick as you do so. Geto’s hips sutter forward in a knee-jerk movement he almost falls down on his bed, but catches him on the last second to not crush you. He ogled at your cock-stuffed mouth and puffy cheeks, his breaths sharp from the pleasure he’s receiving. “Sh-shit, not so fast, baby. I don’t want to cum like this.”

“Hmm.”

Staring up at him innocently, Geto closes his eyes and runs his finger through your locks, slightly bucking his hips deeper into your mouth. Even in his euphoria, Geto is careful to let you go at your own pace, though his self-controls falter a little bit the moment you fondle his balls.

His eyes snap open. Teeth bared and belly flexing, you keep rendering him frozen with how you take him in deeper until his hair is tickling your nose, cheeks sucked in and hollow as you slide his cock along your warm walls. “Oh, fuck, you’re really a fucking devil, right there, yeah,” he hisses, taking a handful of your hair so he could get a better look at you. “Well, who would’ve thought? Always seemingly so innocent. Who knew you could suck dick like this?”

“You like it,” you tease while pumping his shaft up and down and giving kitten licks to the head, where Geto smirks at you.

“Yeah, I love it,” he corrects, his cock twitching on your dainty hands that look so tiny in comparison to his girth. “But no way I’m coming tonight anywhere than your pussy,” Geto pushes you back down on the bed where he showers you with heated kisses, wrists pinned under his grip and hickeys left everywhere on your neck. His sticky fingers trail down your skin to finger you, the sensation too much, too good, too wrong, and that thought alone that’s been drumming into you as the intoxication fades away make you both pause.

“I-I…”

“It’s okay, just relax,” he reassures, withdrawing his fingers that can’t get past your pussy that has now tightened the minute he touched you down there. Geto sends you another approving glance before he pumps his shaft and up down, aligning it with your entrance and kissing you flat on the lips the whole time. “I’ll put it in, okay? Tell me if anything hurts.”

“Hey, hey. Breathe,” he cups your cheek while looking deep into your eyes, though that slight pinch on his forehead let you know he experienced the same discomfort.

Geto must’ve realized both of you aren’t getting anywhere tonight because soon, he’s falling back to this side, eyeing your pussy with longing and lust before his arm lands over his face.  “Well… Maybe not tonight.”

“Geto,” you begin, turning on your side in hopes of easing the pained frown on his face. “I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, it’s fine, really, don’t worry about it,” he blinks at you and rests back on the pillows, his hand already wrapped around his hard, throbbing cock where the tip is leaking. “Let me just relieve myself. I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”

You don’t know what you’re expecting, but definitely not for him to jack off right beside you. You watch; perplexed, awed, undeniably aroused as he holds your gaze, his jaw clenched and accentuating his sharp features more from the movement. Geto is absolutely shameless as he fucks his own fist that is cum-stained, beads of white pre-cum coating his incredibly thick shaft with thick veins.

It’s so wrong yet so fucking hot that you can’t help but do the same.

Sneaking your fingers down to your kitty, you rub your clit and bite your lip, pleasuring yourself the same way he does. Geto exhales in wonder from watching you masturbate, his muscles ripping and arm so buff, you wonder why he hasn’t folded you in half yet.

Oh right, you’re too anxious to ever have his dick inside you, yet you’re shamelessly rubbing circles in your clit. Spreading your pussy lips open, you slide your fingers down and collect your juices, gasping right beside Geto who’s angrily pumping his dick.

Geto suddenly leans back on his calves to stare at your pussy and jacks off, catching some cum from your pussy lips which makes you giggle in surprise, but he comes back to fisting himself. The eroticism of your actions pushed you both to the edge until the both of you came, his dick softening and his cum shooting all over your thighs.

“God, you’re so sexy, I could stare at you all day.”

“That was…”

“Yeah,” he breathes out in stuttered chuckles, throwing a leg over the bed as he stands to hs full naked, cum-stained glory. “Hey, I’ll clean you up. Do you want something to drink or eat? A glass of water, maybe?”

“That sounds great.”

Geto comes back with a shirt of a rock festival and wipes his cum from your stomach, then folds it to wipe your arousal off. He helps you settle inside his oversized shirt that is warm, comfortable, and smells so faintly of him that the exhaustion of tonight’s events is rapidly coming to you.

“Come here. It’s pretty cold tonight,” You gladly cuddle with him, your head laid on top of his buff arm while his free one is wrapped around you.“How’s your studies going? Do you understand math a little better now?”

Despite his innocent queries, his actions are everything but.

His hands are trailing up to slowly to stroke your nipples. Geto thumbs at the hardened peaks before he softly squeezes your breast, letting his hand repeatedly graze over your sensitive nipples as if it’s second nature to him. It turns you on so bad, but you’re exhausted and you’re rubbing your thighs together, sighing and quietly moaning every now and then.

“A-a little, I guess,” you answer, a little bit distracted. He’s modest and no longer aroused (judging from his state inside his boxers), so you try not to start something you’re not prepared to finish. “Hey, Geto, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you more of an ass or boobs person?”

Geto handles the question with ease. “As long as the proportions are right, I like both, and I like yours,” he grins, cupping your boobs in his hand as if to prove a point. Then, he tugs your (his) shirt up just enough to reveal the erect nipples, his eyes narrowed before he sucks lightly on the sides. You gasp at his ministrations but voice no complaints, and neither does he when your nails dig into his arm. “Yours are so beautiful.”

“Flatterer,” you playfully punch his chest, but Geto only chuckles and brings you closer to his chest, his lips warm on top of your forehead. “I’m pretty sleepy…”

“Then sleep. I’ll still be here tomorrow, don’t worry. You’re free to stay as long as you like.”

The next day, Geto is already gone from the room. You’re not worried because one) this is a one night stand with your hot tutor, you’re not supposed to be attached, and two) the smell of pancakes wafting from the slight crack of his door is very much present.

Stretching your arms out, you pad to where Geto is busy flipping pancakes. He’s already dressed comfortably in a white shirt and dark sweats, turning around to smile at you at the sound of your footsteps. “There’s a naked girl in my room? Wow.”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen everything last night.”

Geto doesn’t need to gesture you to come closer to him, you’re already too pulled in by his presence that you’re wrapping an arm around his neck while he kisses you flat on the lips.

“Doesn’t mean I get tired of it,” he teases, lips lingering above yours before he drifts down the crook your neck, voice deep and husky as he greets, “’Morning. Can you pass me the syrup?”

Nodding, you bend over the counter. The syrup is located in the bottom of the pantry and you’re halfway to opening the glass panels when you hear Geto shut off the stove. His hands come to grip on your hips as he grinds his hard cock on your exposed bottom, his lips hovering over your ear. “On second thought…I think I’ll have my meal a little differently.”

“G-Geto.”

“I bought lube while you were asleep. Maybe it’ll make you loosen a little bit?” Geto touches you down there, his eyes glimmering with mischief once he witnesses for himself your state. “You’re already wet babe,” he announces, proudly presenting his wet fingers right before your eyes. “Wait for me.”

Nervously, you fix your shirt and hair as Geto runs to the living room where he pulls out a bottle of lube and discards his shirt somewhere. He wastes no time in lifting you up to the counter where dives between your legs, and you’re tugging at his hair as his tongue eagerly licks your wetness.

“Geto, ah, stop playing around!”

“Wasn’t planning on it, babe, I’m a little impatient,” Geto stands up again to kiss you for a quick second before he grabs the lube and spreads it all over his cock, his fingers experimentally prying your hole open to see if you could take it.

Once his digit slides in with ease, you moan the same time he grins wickedly.

You think he’ll go straight for it but Geto takes his time with you, making sure you’re properly stretched open before he splits you in his half with his cock. He’s really thick, after all, and your tight little cunt needs to adjust well to make sure you enjoy it rather than be in pain. Once satisfied, you pull Geto by the collar and wrap one leg around his waist to bring him closer, gasping when his tip slides between your pussy lips.

Both of you are too lost in a daze of lust to be able to speak properly. One nod from you is all he needs before he’s slipping inside your warm walls, his head falling into the juncture of your neck where he keeps grunting on how good you feel around him.

You can’t help but scratch down his back the deeper he drives his hips, the mere movement of his cock sliding against the bumpy drags of your tissues making you fall apart.

Not a minute later, your shirt is bunched up under your breasts, free for Geto to suck on while he fucks the living daylights out of you. His knuckles turn white from how hard he’s gripping the counter, another hand planted right under your knee to keep your leg spread open for him. You’re moaning openly under him, strings of fuck yeah right there and shit, Geto, you feel so good filling in the early morning air that would’ve been innocent if there weren’t such loud sounds of skin slapping against skin mixing with the chirping birds.

You squeeze Geto’s ass as he plants himself deeper inside you, setting a pace that is both mind-numbing and exhilarating.

It’s hard to believe that just days ago, you’re in the exact same place sharing waffles with him, only you’re studying math and he’s wearing glasses; professional, formal, polite – the exact opposite of the sinful things he’s doing to you right now.

Geto’s grunts are almost choked in your ear as you come hard, walls convulsing and spasming around his thick length.

He immediately pulls out his hard cock to come all over your thighs instead, watching the way your hole clenches around nothing while his slippery dick is smeared and repeatedly slapping your inner thighs. You keep gasping as you ride out your orgasm, thighs burning from the uncomfortable stretch of having one leg propped by him and the other heel planted on the counters. Geto’s moans are deep, sinful, and inherently masculine the whole while he shoots his deep all over you, creating a mess both on the counter and on your skin.

It takes a while before you both regain your breath and composure, with Geto awkwardly pulling his pants up as he laughs along with you. “So…breakfast?”

“Yeah,” you giggled, “I’m famished.”

Safe to say, that morning was spent with not much enough breakfast, but definitely lots of kissing and even more fucking around. Everything Geto said the first time you met him had been proven true – he did have a thing or two to teach you.

[sinner-as-saint]

when no one is around.

Butler!Steve x Reader AU

Run-through: You have had a shameless crush on your butler, Steve, ever since your parents hired him. And you’re even more shameless when it comes to showing it. Poor Steve always has to put up with you no matter what. He didn’t have much of a choice; mainly because he was in charge of your household, consequently, in charge of you but also because he likes you, even though he shouldn’t. Yet he always resists you and your charms, for multiple reasons. However, the man finally breaks and gives in to you, following some unholy circumstances… 

Themes: age gap, smut, masturbation, slight voyeurism, slight daddy kink, bratty!reader, dom!Steve, daddy!steve, fluff, Butler!Steve, angst

You woke up to the sound of Steve’s voice, like you did every morning. 

“Miss, it’s past eight thirty. If you don’t wake up now, you’re going to be very late for work and your father will not be thrilled.” 

You groaned and tried to hide under your blanket knowing that that would buy you at least another minute or two. And it did. A couple of minutes later you heard Steve sigh. 

“Miss, will you please just wake up?” 

You peaked from under your blanket and stared at the eye candy standing right beside your bed in a white shirt, black tux with a bow tie and white gloves. You couldn’t understand how he was a butler when he belonged on the front cover of a magazine. Tall, handsome and older. Just your type. 

“Can’t you be a little more loving, Steve? I don’t know, wake me up with a kiss or flowers or something romantic like that.” You teased, sitting up in the middle of your bed and stretching your arms and ignoring the way your thighs clenched together at the sight of him.  

He stood there watching you, trying his hardest not to stare while fighting back a smirk. “That would be highly inappropriate, Miss.” 

You sighed, reluctantly getting out of bed and stood right in front of him. “What’s highly inappropriate is you having the nerve to look like that all the time.” You took the liberty of leaning in and pressing yourself against him. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Do you have any idea what it does to me? Do you know how bad I wanna just-” 

He gently pushed you away. “No.” He shut you up softly. “Now be quick, you have little time. Breakfast and your car will be waiting downstairs in thirty minutes.” 

You rolled your eyes at him and rushed into your bathroom. As you got ready, you thought of the past almost six years. Steve has played a huge part in your life. 

You still remembered the day your parents announced that they had hired a butler who would handle the household better since they were always away. It was important to have someone to look after you too, given you were the only one who lived in the big, empty house most of the time. 

And in walked Steve, straight into your home and your heart. Upon hearing the name ‘Steve Rogers’ you had expected an older gentleman, much older. But then upon seeing Steve for the first time, you were swooned. Totally whipped at the sight of the muscular, suave and drop dead gorgeous man. Brownish blond hair, blue eyes, dashing. He carried himself with elegance. Just his gait was enough to make your heart go all crazy. 

You remember thinking to yourself, how the hell would you be able to stay sane with a man that gorgeous around you all the time? Obviously you knew you had a crush on him since the very start. But as the days went by, that meaningless crush morphed into something a little more solid without you even knowing. 

You liked Steve, more than you intended to perhaps. Unfortunately, for him you were just his masters’ daughter. He dodged every attempt you made at flirting with him. He always let you down gently though; always with a smile or a smirk or a soft look in his eyes. 

And the more he pushed you away, the bolder you got. And you began hearing these phrases more frequently;

“Miss, this is highly inappropriate.” - Whenever you shamelessly flirted with him. 

“Miss, I am too old for you.” - Which wasn’t that big of an issue for you personally. He wasn’t old, old. He was in his early forties and you were in your twenties. You knew people with age gaps bigger than that who were happy together. 

“Miss, for the love of God, behave.” - your personal favorite. 

You never crossed the line though. You sure did tease him a lot, day and night. But he always kept his calm and composure, never breaking. Although there were times when he almost did. 

Like the time you were getting ready for a party and you needed some help with your dress. You called out for him and he appeared in your bedroom instantly. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam your half exposed body. 

“Can you zip me up?” You stood in front of your mirror, your back exposed, waiting. That was the first time he seemed really nervous around you. He walked up to you and zipped up your dress, slowly, taking his time. His soft, white gloves lazily grazed your skin while he pulled the zipper up, leaving goosebumps behind on your skin. He stood behind you for a moment or two, just staring at your reflection with his lips parted after he was done. “How do I look?” you asked, mischief in your eyes. 

He swallowed audibly. “Beautiful.” 

Then there was the time when you felt really bold and wore a see-through white, oversized t-shirt over some bright red underwear while parading around the house casually going about your day. Steve saw you and almost dropped the tray he was carrying. 

“Oh hi Steve.” You smirked when you caught his gawking for a moment or two. 

He recovered and peeled his eyes off you, looking down at his shoes before looking back up at you with a defeated look in his eyes. “Where are the rest of your clothes might I ask?” 

“In the laundry bin.” 

He sighed. “I had fresh laundry sent to your room just this morning.” 

“They’re all dirty.” 

“All of them?” he sounded frustrated. Not necessarily because of the topic of discussion but because of your rather scandalous appearance; sprawled on the couch carelessly while dressed like that. You knew just how to make a man lose his mind. 

“Yes.” 

“How?” 

You pretended to think for a moment. “I soiled them while painting this morning.” 

“You don’t paint.” He knew you were lying, being a brat as usual. 

“I started this morning.” 

He sighed, allowing his shameless eyes to take you in one last time before he walked away shaking his head mumbling under his breath about how you were incorrigible. You made it hard for him to go about his day in peace with your little antics, in more ways than one. 

Then there was the very famous: “What would you like for breakfast today?” he’d ask almost every morning. 

To which you replied, “You.” on a daily basis and it earned the same reaction out of him each time. He’d roll his eyes at you, resisting the urge to have indecent thoughts as best as he could. 

Steve was torn between wanting to be strictly professional and wanting to give in to your relentless attempts of seduction. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t into you, or had never had an immoral thought when it came to you. 

He thought of you all the time, mainly because his job required him to but also out of genuine concern for your well-being. You were a kind, smart, courageous and beautiful young woman - or rather you could be all this when you weren’t being a brat. Steve had seen the kind of dedication you put towards your work; while handling a huge chunk of the family business. He always admired you for how well you managed the burden your parents placed on your young shoulders. 

He sometimes caught you letting out tears of frustration when the stress got too much. Or when you missed your parents because they barely ever came home. You basically lived alone here, in this big, empty house your parents owned. Steve often wondered what would happen to you if he wasn’t here to take care of you. He liked you, a lot. But there were factors which didn’t let him reciprocate what you felt for him. 

First being his job, then his age, then the fear of your parents finding out and what they would do to him if they did. Besides, he thought, you were young. Young people feel things for people left and right without ever truly meaning it, correct? 

Though that never stopped him from feeling the tension that exists between the two of you. Fiery, hot, burning; it was always there. Even when there were other people around, or when your eyes met for a brief moment. Even on days when you weren’t being a little brat, when you weren’t seeking his attention all the time, even then he couldn’t ignore it. It was there, present loudly. 

This flirty, tension filled bond between the two of you remained constant for years. But it wasn’t always just inappropriate and sexual. Steve had been a friend, a confidant, a good listener to you more times than you could count. 

With your parents always gone, and you having to bear some of the burden of your parents’ companies, it left you with little to no time with friends and family at all. Some you unfortunately drifted away from due to work, others just stopped reaching out or simply refused to understand your busy lifestyle. 

But the one person who was always there for you, always fiercely loyal and constant; no matter how much of a brat you were, no matter how much you annoyed him all the time, no matter how dirty your jokes were, was Steve. Naturally, you unknowingly fell for him at some point - despite knowing that this would go nowhere.

Or would it? 

-

Your daily routines barely changed. It always started and ended the same way. Steve would wake you up, you would annoy him a little, get dressed and ready for work, get to work, go to lunch with your assistant almost every day, get back home, annoy Steve a little more until he leaves. Only for him to come back the next day and repeat. 

The days you hated the most were Steve’s off days. Fridays. 

With him not around, your days weren’t as animated and fun. No one to tease, no one to be a brat to, no one to annoy. Your other staff members were great, but none quite like Steve. 

So Friday, you turned in early for the night. Your housemaids and everyone else had already left so it was just you in an empty house. You tried reading, then got bored. TV wasn’t really helping either. 

You tossed and turned in bed until you realized what was wrong; you were feeling frisky. You groaned, if only you had someone to take care of those needs of yours. More precisely someone with bronde hair, blue eyes, and a taut, muscular body which was always found under a crisp black tux, white shirt, black bow tie and white gloves… and a voice which made you feel things you hadn’t felt before. 

As you thought of your sexy butler, your hand found its way in between your legs. Your other hand toyed with your breasts; fingers pinched your erected nipples as your back arched off the bed slightly. You sighed in pleasure. 

Your flushed, naked body writhed on the silky, cool satin sheets as your fingers toyed with your wet folds. You moaned as your two fingers slipped inside your entrance with ease given that you were dripping already. 

You moaned at the thought of a certain pair of blue eyes, and soft lips as your back arched off the bed again, the cold air mercilessly hit your bare chest and caused your nipples to erect even further. Your fingers effortlessly slipped in and out of you; your fingers ever so gently stroking your walls making every nerve of yours tingle. The palm of your hand rubbed against your sensitive clit over and over again as your moans got louder and louder. 

What you didn’t know, was that hidden in the shadows just outside your partially open bedroom door, stood Steve. Lips parted, short breaths, heart racing, his blood rushing downwards as he watched you. He was too aware of everything; his body and yours, his immoral thoughts and your own, how your lust and hunger ignited him. Aware of your soft moans, and the fire in his loins. 

He felt guilty, and very ashamed of himself as he took in your bare body. But he couldn’t stop looking. He was entranced; hungry just to have a taste. He begged his body to move away from your doorway, but he didn’t budge. It wasn’t like he was purposely peeping or being a creep. 

It was his day off, and yet he dropped by for a casual check, like he had the habit of doing even on days when he wasn’t working because he still had to make sure you were alright. But normally when he dropped by, your bedroom door was always shut so he knew that you were fast asleep. 

But today, he found soft, golden light coming through your bedroom. He had to make sure you’re okay but then he saw that the door was almost halfway open, and he investigated further and saw something he wasn’t supposed to. You. Naked on your bed. Touching yourself. And now, he couldn’t look away. 

His cock was throbbing at this point and it was difficult to ignore it. He shamelessly drank in the sight of your naked body against the silky sheets. The way your back arched off the bed, the way you bit your lip to hold back your sinful moans, the way he could just tell that your shorts breaths would feel so warm against his skin… fuck, he had goosebumps and a shiver danced down his spine. 

He begged himself to slowly walk away, and he almost did. But then he heard you moan his name. And he lost his mind. 

“Steve… daddy, please…” you mewled, whimpering under your breath as you took yourself higher and higher. 

Steve froze in place, he had never known his name could sound so gentle and vulgar at the same time. He was almost panting as he let his sinful eyes roam your naked body, and he wasn’t even being stimulated in any way, just the sight of you and the sound of your voice was bringing him on the edge. 

He was a mess. 

He could just walk into that room and give you all that you’ve been practically begging him for all this time, but that would mean risking all that he has now. Or he could simply leave, and pretend this never happened. Self-abuse under a cold shower once he gets back to his apartment would work best. However, he’d have to come back here tomorrow, now with the recollection of what he was currently seeing. 

How will he be able to resist you from now on when he could barely take his eyes off you now?

That’s enough, Steve. He managed to slowly back away from your doorway and into the corridor which would lead him to the staircase. As he walked away, he heard your slightly louder moans as you came. Fuck. He stood at the landing, in the dark and groaned internally. Oh how pretty you must have looked, coming undone all over your pretty fingers. It drove him crazy just knowing that he’s the one you think of when you touch yourself. 

As discreetly as he could, Steve walked out of your home, rushed into his car and drove past the gates as fast as he could. Needless to say, he had quite some trouble falling asleep that night. 

---

You noticed some changes in Steve’s behaviour the next day when he showed up. He was avoiding you, you noticed that the minute you saw him. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes. He would barely be able to hold a conversation for too long. He seemed… shy and timid, definitely not his usual confident self around you. 

You tried to start up a conversation but his replies were just dry. You thought that perhaps he was having a bed day, or he woke up feeling grumpy. So you let him be. You didn’t annoy him all day. But at the same time, having him around but not having his attention was driving you crazy. You hated it. 

“Steve, what’s wrong?” you asked him at some point during the day. You were in the kitchen at the time and he walked in. 

He wasn’t expecting to find you there so he seemed visibly nervous. “I… uh, nothing. Everything is fine.” He cleared his throat and straightened his back a little more. “Did you need anything, Miss?” 

You could tell he was avoiding the topic, whatever it was. “No,” you answered, “nothing.” You walked out of the kitchen feeling a little troubled by his behaviour. You frowned as you walked upstairs into your study room. Since you were feeling gloomy, you decided to do some boring work until you figured out what to do with yourself. 

Checking the security camera footage was something your father insisted on. You had people for that, but your dad said that it was important you did it yourself just to make sure everything around the house is in order. So you sat back in your seat, rewinding all the footage of the week and sped through it, bored out of your mind. 

Surely you wouldn’t find anything because your staff members were all- 

You almost fell out of your chair when you saw the footage of last night. 5th indoor camera which surveilled the spacious corridor which led to your bedroom. You checked the time on the frame, it was around 11 p.m and you saw Steve walking up to your partly open bedroom door. 11 p.m ish, around that time pretty sure you were… oh… 

You were very well aware that Steve has the habit of coming by to check up on everything even on his days off, you just never knew at what time he came by. Apparently last night he came at the wrong time. Or not...? 

You watched the footage of him standing there frozen in place. He took a step back from your door, then inched forward again. Then backed away, then leaned forward again, and you could tell he must have debated turning back around and leaving multiple times but he didn’t. Oh?  

Your lips lifted up in a smirk as you pieced it all together. So this is why he’s been acting weird all day? Your devious mind came up with a plan. 

-

Steve left that evening, after ignoring you for the entire day and you decided to be a little bit more of a pain in his lovely ass. So you waited for an hour after he left, and then drove all the way to his apartment. Nothing but mischief on your mind. 

When you showed up at his doorstep, he was surprised but still maintained his calm and composure. You shamelessly checked him out; he looked like a god even in his sweatpants and white sweater. His damp, messy hair gave away that he must have just stepped out of the shower. Hot. 

“Hello Steve.” Your smirk gave away that you were up to no good and he caught on pretty quickly. He gave you a faint smile. 

“How come you’re h-,” You cut him off by opening his front door wider and taking the liberty of stepping into his home like an insolent little brat. He sighed as he shut the door behind him and followed you in. “Do you know that it’s considered quite rude to just barge into someone’s home?”

You stopped right before entering his living room. You turned around to face him with a sly smirk. “And do you know that it’s considered rude to come into someone’s home at night and openly spy on them while they’re naked and touching themselves? Hmm?” You had no shame. Also nothing to hide given he had seen it all. 

The look on Steve’s face was priceless. He was less bothered about how you figured and more worried about what would follow now. His job could be at risk yes, but what must you be thinking? He couldn’t figure you out. 

“That’s not what… I was-,” He looked frustrated and nervous, but also guilty. “I wasn’t spying, I didn’t…” He sighed, trying not to stutter. “Listen, that’s not what-”

You cut him off again by walking up to him. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” You said with a flirty smile. “In fact, it would’ve been better if you just walked into the room.” You heard him gasp as you leaned in closer to him, whispering in his ear, “Because I was thinking about you while I was pleasuring myself,” you giggled, “but I think you know that already.” You pulled away to look at him. He was flushed. Troubled. Dare you say, aroused. 

The memories of last night filled his mind. He remained silent, still processing your words and wondering how he should handle this situation. You spoke again, “If I had known you were there watching me, I would’ve put up a better show.” His handsome face was void of any emotion. He was confused, but also burning. 

He was feeling too much at the same time, he didn’t know how to act. Not to mention that your words sent chills all over his body. He was barely able to maintain his calm demeanor any longer. 

Silence. 

You spoke up again. “If you want, I can do it right now.” You noticed how his hands flexed at his sides. He was struggling. You smirked. “What, you shamelessly watch me get off and now you’re acting all calm and collected?” You reached out and gently trailed a finger down his forearm. You watched him shiver for a moment. “Come on Steve,” your hand moved right to the bulge in his sweatpants, “admit it, you want me.” You teased him by gently feeling his erection. It excited you just as much as it did him. 

He finally spoke up. “Y/N… we shouldn’t.” Fuck but he wanted to. He was dying to just reach out and touch you. He kept thinking about how you looked last night; bare, lying in your bed and touching yourself so gently. Your moans… they had tormented him all night even after he got home. His accelerated heartbeats echoed in his ears as he stood unmoving under your wild stare. He swallowed audibly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist you for long. His primal, feral desires surfaced more and more as you spoke and he was hungry. Like a wild animal in heat. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh?” You walked around him, circling like he was a prey. When you stood right behind him, you stood on your tiptoes and leaned in to whisper again, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “But what you did was highly inappropriate Mr. Rogers. Can you imagine what that would do to your reputation, should people find out?” You kissed down along his neck, from his ear to the side of his lower jaw where you could feel his pulse. You scoffed, “Your heart is racing, Steve. Give in. I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.” You whispered softly. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath while trying to ignore the pressure in between his legs. His cock was throbbing. His hands were almost shaking as he held back from touching you. He could so easily just pin you to the wall and have his way. He so desperately wanted to. But… he shouldn’t. You were his bosses’ daughter. 

Despite knowing it was futile because you had the reputation of getting whatever you wanted, be it in your personal or professional life, he still tried to act responsibly rather than just giving in to his burning desire and instincts. 

“I’m not one of your business deals, Y/N. You can come in here and talk terms with me in my own home.” He sounded frustrated and… hot. 

You walked back around and stood right in front of him. Judging by the look in your eyes, he knew what was coming and he silently accepted defeat. “Why? What’s so special about your home?” 

He stepped closer, stopping at just inches away from you. “Careful, Y/N.” His tone caused you to stop smirking. “My home, so I make the rules. When I tell you to stop being a little brat, you stop being a little brat.” The way he looked down at you only made you want to misbehave even more. 

“Else what?” 

And that was it. There went all the self-control he had. His eyes, dangerous and mean stared into yours as he stepped closer, grabbed you by the throat gently and pulled your face closer to his. Your lips parted as you struggled to breath right - not because of his grip around your throat, but because of the proximity. You could feel his body heat and it made you whimper. 

“Else you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences. I’m gonna have to teach your bratty self how to behave.” He chuckled darkly. “But something tells me you’d like that, wouldn’t you babygirl?” He could tell by you whimpered that you would most definitely love that. 

“Steve,” you were at a loss of words. But you were so ready. “Please…”

He smirked. “You’ve been a bad, bad girl for so long. Teasing me, tormenting me,” He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “touching yourself while thinking of me. Who said you could do that? Hmm? Did you ask for permission?” 

“No…” you felt your arousal drip out of you at the sound of his lewd words. 

“From now on, you will come to me when your greedy, little cunt needs to be taken care of. Or you will touch yourself only when I give you permission to. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.” Your voice sounded shaky already. 

“Yes what?” 

Your walls clenched around nothing down there as you uttered the words, “Yes daddy.” 

He smiled. “Good girl.” He whispered and as he looked behind you, you saw how his deep blue eyes lit up once he saw something. “But since you’ve been such a brat lately, you still need to be taught a lesson. Don’t you think?” 

You nodded. He let go of your throat. “Anytime you want me to stop, just say so. Okay?” You nodded again as he slowly walked the two of you back until your legs hit the couch. He caught you by the arm before you fell backwards. “Bend over the armrest.” 

You did what he asked, supporting yourself up with your elbows. And let out a soft moan when you felt his warm hands slipping under your little dress and kneading your butt

“Daddy’s gonna spank you until your pretty little cunt is dripping, is that okay babygirl?” His voice got you all flustered and whiny. 

“Yes daddy.” 

“Good.” He dragged your underwear down till your ankles, waited for you to step out of them and lifted your dress up. He lifted his hand up in the air and brought it down to spank your ass. You whimpered in pleasure as the tingles died down eventually. “That’s for being a bratty little girl all the time.” 

Spank! “That’s for torturing daddy, and teasing him all day when he’s just trying to get work done.” 

You let out a little moan as he spanked you again. “That’s for always doing the exact opposite of what I ask you to, causing you to then ask for help for every little thing.” Spank! You moaned louder as his fingers trailed down to your wet folds, teasing you. “Daddy has to help you out with every little thing, isn’t it?” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck, “That’s okay. Daddy loves it.” 

Your skin burned under his lips. You were breathless, desperately wanting more. 

Spank! His hand lingered on your skin a little longer this time, caressing where it felt sore. “That’s for being a whiny little brat when you don’t always get what you want, when you want it.” Spank! “Such a spoilt brat, aren’t you babygirl?” 

You let out a breathless moan. You wanted more. He could tell by the way you pushed your butt out more and more each time after each spank. “Please…” 

He smirked and slid his hand further down, stroking your wet folds. “You’re so wet.” He cooed and lifted his hand and spanked you again. And again. And again. You whimpered in pleasure and slight pain. 

Spank! He smacked your dripping core instead of your butt. Your whole body tingled as he pulled you up against him again, your sore ass pressing into his erected cock, making both of you groaned under your breaths. “You did so good, babygirl.” His hand traveled to your front and under your dress and he touched your wet core. “You’re so wet for daddy,” He mumbled in your ear, “but you can’t cum yet.” You whined again. He chuckled. “Now you know how it feels when you tease daddy all the time. It’s not fun, is it babygirl?” 

“No.” You answered as he gave you space to turn around and face him. “It’s not. I’m sorry.” You stared at his lips and he noticed. 

“You know what would make daddy really happy though?” That made you look up into his irresistible eyes. “If you got down on your knees like a good girl, and sucked daddy’s cock and made him feel good.” He leaned in to brush his lips against yours. “Won’t you do that? Won’t you be a good girl for daddy?” 

You nodded frantically. Excited. But also needy. 

He plopped down onto the couch, manspreading and making you whimper just looking at him. “Come here,” he pointed in between his legs. “Kneel.” 

You did as he asked. He took your hand and placed it right on his erection. You bit your lower lip as you felt him; big and hard. Your hands hurried to lower the waistband of his sweats to free his erected cock. The sight of his perfect cock had you whining with need again. 

“Go on babygirl. Suck.” His voice was deeper than usual and it sent a shiver along your spine.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock and placed your mouth on his tip; your tongue slowly circling his tip. Steve held your head gently and slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in slowly until he hit the back of your throat.

He gripped your hair gently, moaning as he told you how much of a good girl you were. The sounds of his moans and grunts only made you whimper with his cock in your mouth. Your ass was sore, but that was the last thing on your mind. Right now, you needed to be Steve’s good girl. 

He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum which signified that he wasn’t going to last very long. His taste was all you could focus on; his raw taste and the feeling of his smooth skin against your tongue and the top of your mouth. 

He looked down at you and moaned again, he loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. You looked perfect on your knees, taking him so well just like he wanted you to. 

You looked up and met his wild, blue eyes. Just to mess with him, you took his cock out of your mouth and teased him a little bit more; licking his length from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. He swore under his breath as you dragged your warm tongue over the slit of his tip lazily. 

He looked down at you with a smirk and a warning in his eyes and that was all it took for you to take him back into your mouth and suck on his cock until he came undone all over your tongue.

He gripped your hair, moaning loudly as he came. “Fuck.” He threw his head back to catch his breath. “Such a good girl.” he mumbled, looking down at you as you licked him clean; pulling his sweats back up before you climbed onto his lap, wiggling on purpose. 

He pulled you closer, making you grind against his semi-erected cock. You whined in need. “Aww, what is it babygirl? You want daddy?” he cooed, mocking you. He loved the effect his voice had on you. 

You nodded, pleading with your eyes as best you could. You needed him so bad, it hurt. “Please daddy.” 

He cupped your face and leaned in for a kiss. You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could. A gentle, deep kiss; the kind that made your heart flutter and made your knees weak. He undressed you slowly, and you him. 

Once done, neither one of you could keep your hands off each other. 

“Steve… please,” you mumbled against his lips. He could feel your hunger, which then fueled his. Skin on skin, the desire burning between you two could no longer be ignored. 

He smirked. “I know baby, I know...” He whispered against your lips before flipping the two of you around and asking you to turn around and grip the back of the couch.

He got up and stood behind you. You knelt on the couch in front of him, legs spread apart, hands gripping the back of the couch with your back to him. You could feel him right there behind you. 

He gripped your hair gently into a makeshift ponytail, and pulled your head back just enough to take your breath away. His soft, warm lips hovered over the side of your throat, kissing along your neck as his other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously toying with your clit and making you moan. 

“This is all you wanted, huh? To be fucked, and owned. You wanted my cock so badly, didn’t you?” His voice was deep and raspy when he spoke, his tongue licking along your neck while he abruptly stopped toying with your folds. “All this time, you’ve been practically begging me to fuck you. Well now’s the time baby. Go on, beg for me.”

You whimpered. Your body was on fire. You couldn’t take it any longer. You begged; wantonly, shamelessly.  He chuckled and tugged harder on your hair, making you whimper and moan even more. “That’s a good girl.” 

He gripped each side of your hips, tightly; spreading your legs apart a little more as he aligned his cock to your entrance. You shivered in anticipation as you waited. You couldn’t see him, and in front of you, through the large glass floor-to-ceiling window, you had a lovely view of the city lights but that didn’t matter anymore. 

He hand reached around and gently grabbed you by the throat again. “Are we good, babygirl? You okay?” 

You nodded quickly, heart racing, your body heated. “Yes, yes please...” You mumbled. 

He gave you a gentle kiss on your cheek, his stubble pressing into your skin. You closed your eyes and bit your lower lip as his soft lips kissed along your lower jaw. “I’m gonna fuck your sweet little cunt until you’re shaking…” he murmured, more so to himself. 

With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely. You heard his ragged breaths right by your ear as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he pounded into you. 

You shuddered as you felt all of him, while he mumbled about how good you were. He panted in your ear, kissing the side of your face as his hand left your throat and roamed around your body, touching you wherever he could, memorizing the shape of you until he finally cupped your core and played with your swollen clit. Your moans were incessant, you could already feel a sore throat coming. 

“You feel so good, baby…” he mumbled, slamming into you relentlessly, stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the room. 

“Fuck…” his voice cracked as he moaned under his breath. 

You could feel your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud. Your body moved along with his, your legs felt numb as he relentlessly slammed into you. 

Your moans got louder and he bent down to kiss along your shoulder blades and the back of your neck. “Take me, babygirl. Take all of me like you’ve dreamt of so many times…” he whispered against your skin as he rocked into you, faster and faster. He could barely hold it together himself but he had to give you what you’ve been wanting this whole time. 

You were a teary mess, he couldn’t see but he could tell by the sound of your voice. The view of the city in front of you was now getting blurrier with each passing second. Yet, you still wanted more. 

You cried out loud in pleasure as his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him more and more each time he filled you up. You felt a sweet pressure forming in between your legs, intensifying each time the tip of his cock brushed against your sensitive spot. 

“Steve…” you cried, unable to handle the pleasure. It was overwhelming. 

He slowed down for just a second. “I’m right here, baby.” He kissed the side of your face. “I’m here, it’s okay. Are you gonna cum for me? You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for daddy? Hmm?” 

You nodded, now a whimpering, tear-stained mess. He took you higher… and higher… 

“Cum for me.” his voice was all it took for you to come undone. You came hard without any warning.

He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back; kept slamming into you, chasing his own orgasm as your walls clenched around him, squeezing him like he had dreamt of last night. 

He gripped your hair in his fist and tugged on it again, moaning right in your ear as he felt his orgasm forming. Your walls tightened around him, and he groaned as he came undone right after you; buried deep within you. His warm cum shoot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance.

You were struggling to hold yourself up, your legs shaking and your body trembling. But Steve held you against him as he threw himself on the couch, pulling you into his lap. His body was damp and warm, and you loved the feeling of his strong arms around you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck. 

He rubbed along your sides as he whispered comforting words in your ear. His hands rubbing your body everywhere he could. “You did so good, baby.” 

---

You don’t remember getting to Steve’s bed the previous night, but that’s where you woke up; under his warm sheets, a pair of lips kissing your face gently. 

“Wake up, Miss.” 

You groaned. “Don’t call me that.” You mumbled from under the sheets. You tried sitting up and you felt sore in places you didn’t know one could feel sore. Steve caught the frown on your face and when you looked up and to send him a death glare, he just chuckled. 

You noticed that he was dressed already. 

“Come on now. We have to go.” 

You hid under the blankets again. “No.” 

He sighed. Of course, he should’ve known he’d have to deal with all your antics again. “You need to get home, and I need to get to work. Now come on, we have to go.” 

You peaked from under the blankets. “Give me a kiss first.” You bargained. 

He rolled his eyes and walked up to his bed, leaning over you. “You’re just gonna pull me back into bed with you and then we’re both not going to want to leave at all.” 

You held both your hands out, “Just one kiss, I promise.” 

He gave in, he leaned in and cupped your face with one hand and pressed his lips to yours. It started out all gentle and slow but then you pulled him closer by the back of his neck and he accidentally let out a moan. You tried pulling him back under the covers but he pulled away right before he gave in completely. 

“No.” He pulled away. “Home, now.” He used the same tone as he did when waking you up for work each day. 

You groaned and eventually, reluctantly, got out of his bed. 

 ---

Everything was going great after that night. 

Your days just got a whole lot better with Steve around. Sure, you kept being the brat that you are, just so he could drag you all the way to your bedroom and ‘teach you how to behave’ at any time during the day. 

It was safe to say that you began catching feelings for each other. You brightened up Steve’s days and him yours. Bathroom quickies, morning sex, and spending nights together quickly became more frequent than you expected. 

You teased him just the same, and it almost always resulted in him fucking you just how you wanted him to. 

All was well. 

Until your parents came home for a weekend out of nowhere. And they left just as quickly as they came but their arrival made Steve feel terrible. Steve couldn’t help but feel guilty when your father asked him if he was taking good care of you. Obviously, he guarded your little secret well. But he felt terrible, like he was betraying your parents. 

He wasn’t supposed to do this. Above all, he shouldn’t have even thought that he could be with you. Really, what was he thinking? This was wrong. He worked for your parents, and you. This was unprofessional. Inappropriate. 

You noticed that his stand-offish manner remained even after your parents were gone. So you confronted him about it one morning. 

“Is everything okay between us?” 

He looked up at you, and nodded. Truth is, he didn’t know how to let you down. 

“Steve, seriously.” 

He sighed. He walked over to where you stood and faced you with a look which gave away what he might have been thinking all this time. “This has to stop.” 

Your heart raced. “What does?” 

He pointed between you and him. “This.” 

You were sure you could fix whatever was wrong. “If you’re worried about mom and dad finding out then-,” 

He cut you off. “No. Listen to me. I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing here, like I’m leading you on because… let’s face it, we can never be together.” He could visibly see how he was breaking your heart. He took a deep breath. “I should have tried to make you see sense. I shouldn’t have… used you. I can’t help but feel like I’m using you, I-,” 

You cut him off this time. “Steve, you’re not.” He stepped forward to cup his face but he caught your hands before you could, pulling away from you. 

“You don’t understand. This… this can’t happen. It probably isn’t real. What you feel for me could be something else and you’re mistaken and-,” 

You couldn’t believe him. “How dare you?” You got defensive really quickly, trying to hide how it hurt. 

He got quiet. Maybe this was the wrong way of dealing with this situation? 

You straightened your back and took a step away from him. “Look, if you don’t want me anymore then just say so. Don’t make silly excuses, we’re not children.” 

He spoke up quickly. “All I’m saying is that you’re young. Perhaps you’re not thinking straight. Look, I’ve mistaken lust for love too in the past, when I was younger. It’s not-,” 

You stopped him before he hurt you even more. You were hurt, but mostly angry at this point. “Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean that my feelings aren’t real or valid, or that I don’t know what I want. Also you have no right to water down my feelings like that. Who are you to tell me what I feel? How fucking dare you?” 

He realized he must have dealt with this differently. But it was too late now, he hurt you. The sight of your watery eyes was unbearable, knowing that he’s the one who caused it. I’m sorry, babygirl. “Y/N, I’m just-,” 

You raised your voice. “Enough!” You didn’t let your tears fall in front of him. “Screw you, Steve.” You grabbed your bag and made your way out of your house, got in the car and drove to work in anger and your heart aching. 

You cried in the car before you got out. What happened? Everything was so perfect. Why did he feel this way all of a sudden? To a point where he made himself believe that what you felt for him wasn’t real? Where did that even come from? Did he think that you were just a confused young girl, seeking attention? 

That bit really hurt. It hurt more because you fell for him, hard and it wasn’t something you could control. 

You started your day rough, and it seemed it was only going to get worse because you’d be replaying the scene from the kitchen this morning all day long. 

 As for Steve, he was equally a mess as you were. He kept cursing himself as he tried his hardest to go about his day but the thought of your teary face this morning was haunting him in broad daylight. 

He could’ve been less mean, more understanding. You were human after all. How could he have hurt you like that when all he ever cared for this whole time was your well-being? 

He was upstairs doing something when your bedroom door caught his eye. He stepped in and immediately regretted all that he did this morning. It was unfair towards you and now he felt even more guilty. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, standing in the middle of your room. It smelt like you; floral, fierce and enticing. His favorite girl, how could have hurt you so much? He felt guilty, but perhaps he failed to see how happy he actually made you. 

His eyes fell on your freshly made bed. In the past month following that night at his apartment, he had spent quite some nights here. Memories of all times spent with you, not just for the past month, but the past years as well flashed in his mind. 

Oh he had fucked up. 

He walked out of your bedroom, already taking his gloves off. He needed to change and go find you and apologize before it gets worse. 

-

You were in the middle of yet another business call when you heard a knock on your door. You quickly wrapped up the call and called out in annoyance, “Come in.” You had been quite moody since this morning. 

Steve was the last person you expected to enter your office this afternoon. You stood up immediately; not having the heart to tell him to get out. All your anger vanished the minute you saw him standing there, all that was left was the hurt. And fuck did it hurt. 

He closed the door behind him and lingered around the door itself, still wondering how he should start his apology. Also the broken look in your eyes felt like a thousand daggers piercing him all at the same time. 

“Came to tell me some more about how much of a stupid, young and confused girl I am?” You sassed. Your go-to method of dealing with emotions was to be as sassy and as ruthless as humanly possible, Steve was aware of that. 

He sighed. “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have said all that.” He took a deep breath and kept going. “I felt terrible when I spoke to your parents.” He finally confessed. “They trust me to take good care of you, like a guardian. But I have been…” he couldn’t find the right words. “I felt guilty. And it’s not your fault, but I couldn’t figure out how to deal with all this. I thought maybe if I push you away it would… I don’t know. I don’t know, Y/N. I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

You listened, trying to grasp the reasons why he said what he said this morning. 

“Then what made you think that I might be confused about what I feel?” You questioned. 

He took a step forward, feeling terrible now that he was voicing out everything. “I don’t know, I thought that you- that maybe you… I-,’ 

You cut him off, repeating your question because you could tell he had an answer but didn’t want to tell you. “What made you think so, Steve? The truth, please.” 

He stared into your eyes for a few seconds. “I thought that perhaps you weren’t sure about your feelings… for me. Why would you fall for someone like me, I mean, I work for your parents.” He let out a dry chuckle. “I thought that maybe you were mistaking everything that’s been happening since that night at my apartment to be… something it’s not.” 

You scoffed. You simplified and rephrased what he had just said, “So you think that I’ve been going on about how much you mean to me just because you fuck me good?” 

That felt like a slap across his face. “That’s not-,” 

“Do you even like me? Or is it just… I don’t know, convenient sex to you?” 

He had the same look of hurt on his face which you had this morning. “Don’t you dare say that. You know how I feel about you.” He had told you many times how he feels and he meant it. The fact that you even questioned him hurt. 

You scoffed and nodded. You walked around your desk, stopping at the side of it. “Take a seat.” 

He looked confused for a moment. “What?” 

“Take a seat, Steve.” You pointed to one of the chairs and he walked right over without any question. 

Your heart burned as you looked at him, wanting to just shower him with tender love and affection but you had to clear some things up first. 

He looked up at you with his deep blue eyes, wondering if he had lost you for good. It would kill him if that were the case. He could no longer imagine his days without you. 

“Do you remember the night of my 20th birthday, Steve?” You asked. 

He looked down at his lap and cracked a little smile. “That was 6 years ago, Y/N. It’s a little blurry.” 

You smiled at the memory. “Mom and dad were away, as usual. But they promised they would make it back before the night ends, for my birthday dinner. But then, they both forgot about it and later blamed it on the workload. I went to bed crying that night, like I had all day.” As you narrated that day, it helped him remember a little bit. You continued, “But then someone knocked on my door. It was you, standing there with a little cupcake and a candle. It was your day off but you were the only one who didn’t forget that it was my birthday.” 

He remembered it now. He remembered how he found your little teary face when you opened your bedroom door and how you jumped in his arms. 

He remained quiet. 

You kept going. “The year after that, I begged mom and dad to be home for Christmas because I was dying to have some family time with them. But they called and said they couldn’t make it. Do you know who put with my shit and helped me decorate the entire house with obnoxious Christmas music on? You.” 

He smiled a little bigger at the memory. He remembered how you pouted and followed him around the entire day, asking him to help you with decoration. He remembers the way his heart fluttered when he saw the biggest, most genuine smile on your face after he agreed to do so. He would do anything just to see that same smile on your face right now. 

You stepped a little closer. 

“Do you remember the times when I used to go clubbing almost every weekend? And you would have to track me down and bring me home safe at like three in the morning every time?” You chuckled at the memory. “And then you sat me down one day and asked me to get my shit together.” 

He remembered that as well. That was one of the only times he had been so strict with you. He simply could not watch you waste your life away like that and put yourself in danger. He was glad you listened. 

“And all those times when I missed mom and dad but I couldn’t call them because I knew they were always busy, so I called you. At odd hours and you would always show up. And you’d stay for as long as I needed you to. And I’d drag you along to go get ice-cream with me in the middle of the night. You remember that?” 

He looked up at you and his smile vanished. You had tears streaming down your face. “Y/N…” 

“It was you, Steve. It’s always been you.” You fought the need to cry. “I didn’t fall for you because of that night at your apartment. All these years, all those mundane things added up to now, when I can finally tell you how I feel and how important you are to me. And when you try to reduce it to nothing but lust and confusion, it really hurts.” 

He got up from his seat. “Baby… I’m so, so sorry.” 

You wiped your tears away. “It’s okay if you want nothing to do with me. None of this will affect your job, and my parents will never find out. You can walk out of this, I’ll understand. But don’t tell me what I feel for you isn’t real. Because it is. I love you, and that’s real.” 

He closed the distance between the two of you, grabbing your face and to pull you closer gently. “Shh…” he whispered, one of his arms circling your waist and pulling you closer, “I’m not gonna walk out. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He pressed his lips to yours, gently. He kissed you passionately; arms wrapping around your body, tongue stroking the inside of your mouth while he occasionally bit down on your lip. Your hands found their way into his soft hair, you tugged on it gently while moaning softly into the kiss. 

He gave you a second to catch your breath. “I adore you, babygirl. And that’s real too.” He mumbled against your lips before kissing you again while gently pushing you against the edge of your desk until you got on top of it. He stepped in between your legs and deepened the kiss. You gripped his hair and tugged a little more and he let out a quiet, breathy moan. 

His warm hand caressed your thigh, given your dress had bunched up higher than before. His other hand gently held your lower jaw as he kissed and nibbled on your skin, down your neck; making you squirm and forget all about the world outside. Here, with him now, was all that mattered. 

You felt his fingers lazily making their way across your inner thighs. His knuckles gently stroked your clothed core and you leaned your head back at the sudden wave of pleasure; letting out a soft moan. 

Steve gently toyed with your still clothed, now wet, core. Your hand tugged on his sweater and you pulled him closer, placing your lips on his again. Your other hand dipped in between your bodies and you unbuckled his pants as quickly as you could. You felt him bite down on your skin when you palmed him through his underwear. 

“Steve… I want you…” You whispered in his ear. 

You moaned as he kissed his way up to your neck. “I know, baby. I know…” he pulled away to look at you with hooded eyes. 

You lowered his underwear and pulled out his cock. He rapidly dragged your underwear down your legs and threw them somewhere behind him. He spread your legs open and aligned his cock to your core. 

You could feel his tip, leaking with precum, slightly pressing against your clit. Slowly, he slipped inside of you, groaning at how tight you were. You felt his length stretching you out entirely. He started rocking in and out of you slowly, then eventually, he sped up. 

“Steve…”You moaned out loud, feeling all of him; stretching you, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you to the point where the only thing you could focus on was his body.

“I’m right here, baby…” he whispered, pounding into you relentlessly, as he bent down to kiss your open mouth, swallowing all your moans and mewls in the process. 

You whined upon hearing the wet, slapping sounds your bodies made when they came in contact with one another. Mixed with his scent and the growls leaving his mouth, it was all too sinful, too good. 

“You’re all mine.” He stared down at you, his ocean blue eyes showing you all the love he had for you. You could only nod, unable to form coherent sentences while he pounded into you like he owned you. He leaned in again, kissing you softly. “Say it, babygirl. Tell me you’re mine.” he whispered against your lips.

Something about how he sounded so calm even while he was fucking you hard made you tremble under him. “I’m yours…” you whispered, shuddering under him. He smirked and sped up into you again, relishing the feeling of you wrapped around him like you were made for it.

Hearing you moan and squirm under him only encouraged him to thrust deeper into you, he wanted to feel all of you and he wanted you to feel all of him. He wanted you to know that he was here, and was not planning on going anywhere. He was relentless. He moaned right in your ear as his body moved perfectly against yours. “I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you so, so much...” 

You whined; feeling a thin layer of sweat covering both your bodies as your walls milked him perfectly. A tear fell from your eye, out of pleasure. He was quick to wipe it away. He bent down and kissed your lips, pounding into you rapidly like his life depended on it.

“I love you more…” 

He felt you clench and tighten around him, “Cum for me, baby...” He whispered, his voice strained and raspy. Your mind was foggy by now, and it took your brain a few seconds to even process his words.

Not even a few moments later, you felt him twitch inside of you; his cock throbbing against your walls. He came with a growl, gripping your hips. You whined as you came around him as well, hard and fast. 

He didn’t pull his cock out of you as he engulfed you in his arms, tucking your head under his chin as he held you against his warm body. You could hear his frantic heartbeats, and he could feel yours. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again. 

You pulled away from his hug just a little so you could look at him. “Hey,” you reached out to touch his face. “Stop apologizing. We’re gonna be okay.” 

He smiled down at you. “I’m gonna have to love you in secret.” He leaned down and rubbed the tip of his nose to yours. You giggled. 

“Not for long. We’ll figure something out.” You grabbed him by his face and pulled him closer, and whispered dramatically, “Or maybe we could run away.” Your words made his smile. You pulled him in for a kiss, and whispered, “Till then, I’ll love you when no one is around.” 

[homo-sex-shoe-whale]

Online shipping, the fetishisation of gay men, and the romanticisation of queer trauma

An essay by me!

Word count: 2.8k

A link to the Google Doc version of this essay.

A big thank you to my friends Nathan @themeerkatnate, Mav @not-mavv , and Duke @dukedark-ness for reading this essay and giving me their thoughts as mlms on the topic. Make sure to check out their blogs and give them a follow!

So I was on a lovely website by the name of Twitter.com yesterday, just scrolling through while having my afternoon cup of coffee, when I saw that viral post of a girl reading a Larry fanfic through a classroom projector. I'm sure most of you have seen it. It's gone viral on Instagram, TikTok, and likely Tumblr too, and if you haven't come across it I'm positive you will soon.

Now, after getting through my initial reaction to that post which was, holy fuck, that's so embarrassing, I had a second reaction of... wait, this ship is still around?

And after I had some thoughts on the incredible permanence of some online ships and the weird obsolescence of others, I did get to thinking of how lots of these popular ships seem to stem from the same types of perceived relationship dynamics and homophobic stereotypes.

These online fandoms often seem to have an obsession with objects of queer trauma, such as having to hide a relationship, lying about sexuality for self-preservation, and even social rejection. So, after some opinions from my followers and the great archive that is the internet, I've decided to discuss some of the most popular examples of online shipping and the particular nuances they came with.

NOTE: Out of respect for all these people, I won't be sharing viral images or videos of them in perceived romantic proximity (or even kissing, as is applicable for some examples), but I will be describing certain moments I deem to be relevant. So even if you're unfamiliar with them, you won't be confused as to what I'm talking about.

NOTE 2: Although not all people within these fandoms were/are toxic, this essay is focused on the overall toxicity of the fandoms, and how they are toxic more so as a "hive" than as a group of individuals. When I refer to a fandom I don't mean every person involved in the fandom, but rather the collective impact of the group.

 1. Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson 

This is arguably the most popular example of online shipping. The absolute permanence of this ship, and how its fandom never seems to fully die off even beyond the lifespan of One Direction as it once stood, is downright impressive.  

I'm going to be the first to admit I was never in the loop with this fandom. My childhood best friend was actually a massive Larry shipper and asked me to beta read one of her fics, but that was before I even knew who tf Harry and Louis were! Not because I avoided the fandom or even because I rejected the online shipping, but just by coincidence, I delved into the world of pop punk music right when One Direction began gaining its popularity. I bought my first ever album, Riot by Paramore, in 2011- only a year after One Direction made their X-Factor debut. So, this fandom just bypassed me by a sort of weird coincidence.

But I don't need to be in the loop with this fandom to know the astronomical obsession with these two men, no, these two BOYS, was extremely toxic. In 2010, when One Direction made their debut, Harry Styles was only 16 years old. And Louis Tomlinson wasn't much older at 19! This made the two of them incredibly young when this unprecedented wave of shipping hit the internet, and although that must be traumatising for anyone, I cannot even fathom how overwhelming it must've been for two boys that young.  

I'm 18, almost 19 now, and I cannot begin to imagine how scary it was for the two of them to have their every interaction nitpicked within an inch of its life by thousands upon thousands of people online. I do not know this myself, but from numerous recounts by some of my followers, this massively impacted Harry's and Louis' nondescript relationship in real life, seemingly driving the two previously close friends apart. 

Now, before we move on, there's something we need to talk about. And that is the obsession with the dominance/submission dynamic within the world of gay shipping. 

With almost every popular mlm (an acronym meaning man-loving-man) ship based on real people, it seems that fandoms have a particular fascination with power imbalances in these relationships. You don't even need to look at the insane amount of fanfictions based on BDSM to figure this out. In almost all of the examples I'll be citing today, there is an age gap within the perceived relationship and a person the fandom has seemingly decided to be the top/dominant figure. 

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are 3 years apart in age. Although it isn't all that relevant now, an age gap of 3 years when you're in your late teens is a lot more significant. In 2012, for example, when this shipping really started gaining traction, Harry Styles was 18 and Louis Tomlinson was 21. That power imbalance, albeit not that significant, is enough for a fandom to latch on to. We'll see this a lot more in the coming example with Dan and Phil.

 2. Dan Howell and Phil Lester

It's impossible to have a discussion about internet shipping without talking about Dan and Phil.

 Dan Howell and Phil Lester, although being popular YouTubers individually, are arguably one of the internet's most iconic duos. The two creators published their first videos together in 2009, and while their relationship was already a motive of speculation back then, the peak of the "Phan" shipping definitely came in the 2013-2016 era of Tumblr.

Now, I'm going to admit… I was actually on Tumblr when that happened. 

The 2013-2016 period perfectly aligns with my middle school days (I started middle school in 2013 and high school in 2016), and I was not only on Tumblr back then, but I was on Wattpad too! Again, this wasn't a fandom I had much contact with as I had a huge anime phase in middle school and I was on Tumblr posting mainly photography and Soul Eater content more than anything. 

But I did watch some of Dan and Phil's videos! And the occasional "Phan" content did not completely evade me as one of my closest friends in middle school had a fanchat for them. I wasn't involved in the fandom myself but they were actually one of the few English-speaking YouTubers I watched once in a blue moon (back then I watched mainly Brazilian YouTubers). One thing I did in fact notice over the years, around 2014ish perhaps, was that the two of them seemed to grow increasingly "awkward" around each other, in a way that many folks on the internet thought was reminiscent to Markiplier/Jacksepticeye, two YouTubers who also dealt with extraordinary amounts of shipping.

I'm not the only one who thinks this. The change in Dan and Phil's relationship, at least to the outside world, was clear to almost anyone who watched their videos for a while. I cannot blame them at all. The shipping was nuts. Between the countless fan videos, speculative comments, and insurmountable number of fanfics, there's no way the two of them didn't feel the weight of the shipping. The term "demon phannie" made its way into internet vernacular and there it stayed for years. Even Shane Dawson, who was one of the largest creators on the platform at the time, made several videos speculating on the nature of Dan and Phil's relationship and their sexual orientations. 

There was even porn made in which actors with similar appearances to the creators were made to have sex on camera. 

Now, this is actually a rare example where the two people involved in the ship actually came out as gay once the shipping seemed to die down. I'm incredibly happy Dan and Phil both reached a point where they were comfortable being publicly out, but I hate to say I'm shocked this day ever came. If I'd gone through what the two of them did, I don't know if I'd ever trust the internet. 

And again, this ship's fandom definitely had an obsession with the power dynamics they thought existed between the people within the ship. Dan Howell is 4 years younger than Phil Lester, and was only 18 in 2009, when they started making videos together. From my personal understanding, the shipping was often quite focused on this dominant/submissive dynamic especially in discussions from their early relationship. And this is in no way exclusive to Dan and Phil.

This general fascination with the older man/younger man dynamic, in my opinion, plays into the homophobic stereotype that gay men are predators. The idea that gay men usually seek younger men, and somehow "convince" them to engage in homosexual relationships, is popular homophobic rhetoric. The popularisation, exaggeration, and fetishisation of these power imbalances, in age and/or in relationship dynamics, is directly harmful to the mlm community. 

Not only that, but the romanticisation of a "hidden/forbidden relationship" is also detrimental not only to gay men and the mlm community, but to queer people as a whole. Queer people face huge trauma having to hide their relationships; queer attraction is already a societal taboo. And acting like this is good, or even desirable, is harmful to queer people as a whole, regardless of whether or not it's actually applicable to the people being shipped. It normalises this trauma not only to cisgender, heterosexual people, but to impressionable queer youth who grow to believe this type of trauma is to be expected. 

3. Frank Iero and Gerard Way

This is another example where the perceived power imbalances between the two subjects of the shipping were directly exploited online. Now, this ship did precede the others mentioned above. If we're looking at this topic chronologically, this particular ship did come first in the shipping timeline. It's closer to the origin of the shipping extended universe, if you will.

In case you aren't familiar with them, Frank Iero and Gerard Way are both members of the American emo band My Chemical Romance. This ship is the first one here of which I don't recall the full popularity. It really peaked in popularity around the late 2000s, circa 2008. And I don't remember this moment online as in 2008, I was only 6 years old and believe it or not, I wasn't really all that concerned with rumoured homoeroticism as a first grader. 

However, the popularity of this ship did carry over into the 2013-2015 Tumblr shipping boom. The emo fandom (or "bandom" as it was called) involving not only My Chemical Romance but other similar bands such as Fall Out Boy, Panic! At The Disco, and Pierce the Veil, found its hub on Tumblr. 

During this time, I did in fact listen to this style of music, but was focused a lot more on the anime side of Tumblr as mentioned earlier. Of course, I wasn't 13 years old like, "hey, this type of content might be harmful and can inadvertently perpetuate homophobic stereotypes," I just happened to care more about my silly little anime and ended up not getting involved. 

This ship does involve a discussion that the others don't, however. With Frank Iero and Gerard Way, there is quite often a certain sentiment of, "Oh, they brought this upon themselves!" as the two band members very famously kissed during a show in 2007. In my opinion, though, this doesn't really justify all the obsessive shipping. If you look at Green Day, a band often grouped in with MCR as another famous pop punk group, the members don't follow too different of a trajectory. Billie Joe Armstrong has, on numerous occasions, kissed both of his fellow band members onstage- particularly Tré Cool, the drummer. And Billie Joe Armstrong is openly bisexual, which none of the members of MCR seem to be but some, or even all of Billie's bandmates, are too. 

You'd think Green Day would face a lot more shipping as the more persistent onstage homoeroticism and Billie Joe's openness about his sexuality would warrant more "substantiated" speculation. However, Green Day faces nowhere near as much shipping as My Chemical Romance. Why is this? I actually don't know. It might've been because Green Day has been around for over a decade longer and generally has an older fandom, but I really am not that sure. 

 It could also be because of the lower lack of potential for forced relationship dynamics. The members of Green Day are all less than a year apart in age and are even similar in height. However, Frank Iero is 4 years younger than Gerard Way, who is not only the frontman of My Chemical Romance, but also considered to be the group's intellectual and creative "leader". Even beyond that, Gerard Way is quite visibly taller, and the perceived power difference between the two of them definitely did not elude their fans. 

This difference could even be partly due to the lack of a "mystery" with Green Day. There's not as much to speculate as, well… the members of Green Day are already open about their sexual orientations. It might be that shipping in the Green Day fandom has less of a forbidden appeal for most people. 

Of course, I won't just keep repeating myself, but my previous points about forced relationship dynamics still stand.

4. Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch

Better known for their roles in BBC Sherlock as Sherlock and Watson, Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch unfortunately had their roles follow them well into real life. This is the example I know least about, so have these thoughts from a follower by the name of @indubitably-a-goblin, who had the following to say:

"the main issues i had with it were:

a) they were both married at the time, freeman to amanda abbington and cumberbatch to sophie hunter (in which both had children)

b) the main reasoning for it was their chemistry in the many projects they've done together. which is, shockingly, their Whole Job. They're actors! That's what they're supposed to do! if they weren't good at interacting then they wouldn't be good actors! i don't know how people can't understand this.

c) they're real people. we don't know them. we aren't friends with them. we aren't their family members. we have zero right to be pushing this onto them and ruining their friendship by doing so. (this one relates to most of the ships you've mentioned though)

d) healthy friendships between two men are ignored so plainly in most medias and in fandom. its obvious that these two men have a relationship, but that doesn't mean it's a romantic one.

e) its fine to ship their characters, but actors shouldn't be treated as less-than-human or some sort of prop. they're doing a job, and once they are off-screen, they aren't here for your entertainment."

I believe she did a great job of summing it up on her own, and for the sake of avoiding redundancy, I'll leave it at that!

5. Corpse Husband and Sykkuno- an emerging yet subtle example

I am absolutely positive you remember how popular the game Among Us was a couple of months ago. And with the popularity of this game, some of its most prominent content creators became the targets of online shipping- as is the case with YouTubers and streamers Corpse Husband and Sykkuno. 

Although the shipping involving these two creators is nowhere near as strong as it was/is with the examples above, I do think there is once again a reemergence of a common theme here. Whilst Sykkuno is known for his happy-go-lucky, almost "innocent" persona, Corpse Husband is the antithesis of this, known for his much darker and moodier personality. 

Do I even have to mention what the common theme seems to be?

Again, although the popularity of shipping - at least with real people - seems to have died down a bit since the Tumblr shipping boom of the early to mid 2010s, I do believe this example is worth mentioning. Even though the creators are still close, they have in fact expressed discomfort regarding the shipping, and I can only hope the internet as a whole lets their friendship blossom and exist naturally without obsessive speculation. 

My final thoughts

As explored in the essay:

The romanticisation of objects of queer trauma as a part of online shipping normalises queer trauma to both cishet and queer youth. 

Online shipping, especially at a high intensity, can end up negatively impacting the very relationships they pine over. 

The relationship dynamics often forced on mlm ships perpetuate homophobic stereotypes about non-heterosexual men. 

If anyone else has thoughts on this matter, do share! This essay is moreso an opinionated observational piece and isn't meant to be taken as fact but rather just as my thoughts on the matter. I hope it was useful as a reflective piece regardless!

Date of posting: June 16th 2021

[songbirdstyles]

when i kissed the teacher.

summary: the one man you want more than anything is the one man you can’t have - your english professor.

warnings: teacher/student relationship, age gap (implied), f receiving oral, whole lotta smut, whole lotta feelings, whole lotta angst

word count: 14.7k (strap in)

song inspo.: when i kissed the teacher - abba

There was something special about Professor Styles.

You knew it, and so did every other girl who took his class. Your less-than-appropriate feelings about him were shared and that should’ve made you feel better about having them - at least you weren’t as obvious as some of the other girls who obviously took a fancy to your English professor. You applauded their efforts, showing up to classes in short skirts and low cut tops in the hopes that they’d catch his eyes drifting down to their chests while he passed out your essays -

But they hadn’t had any luck yet. He was a very respectable man, and more than his looks, that was what you appreciated about him. He was passionate about English, with a curriculum that appealed to you from the very first day and essay topics that forced you to look deeper into every book that the class read. He was one of the youngest professors on campus and you could tell something about that seemed to motivate him - to not be seen as a joke by the older professors, to be taken seriously by the students, some of which weren't much younger than him.

You decided, after your very first class with him, that, in any other universe, you’d have fallen in love with him. Or perhaps tried to jump his bones immediately.

Something of that sort.

As classes progressed you found yourself only liking him more. His classes were as difficult as you’d anticipated and you should have hated it, hated how much work and effort you had to put into every assignment but you absolutely adored it. You loved doing his essays, loved the novels he picked, loved the look on his face when he handed back your assignments with a 100% scribbled on top.

Most of your assignments, at least.

It didn’t really make sense to you, why your 1984 analysis should have gotten a 71%. Truthfully, you’d felt confident while writing it - it was such an easy analysis that you’d decided to go a little deeper, spending more time on it than was necessary, because you were sure he’d be tired of reading the same essay from everybody over and over again. So you gave him something different and maybe you should have stuck to analyzing the same themes that everyone else did.

“If any of you are confused about your grade,” Professor Styles announces to the class when everyone has gotten their essays back, time left in class slowly ticking down, “please feel free to see me after class. M’happy to discuss any concerns with you.”

Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes land on you.

Class ends within a few minutes and you take your time packing your things back into your bag, waiting until the last kid has trickled from the lecture hall before swinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way down to his office. The door is cracked open and he’s barely sat down at his desk when you knock, flashing him a smile before pushing the door open a bit more.

You clear your throat before saying, “Hey, um, sorry to bother you - ” he interrupts you, telling you that it’s no bother at all “ - I’m just kind of confused on why I did badly on this essay.”

He nods, motioning for you to come in, and you step inside before shutting the door behind you. His office is small and cramped, with bookshelves lining the walls and a couch pressed into the corner. It’s a good vibe, you have to admit, although slightly messy. Perhaps you’d describe it as cozy, and it seems to fit him well. 

There’s an empty seat in front of his desk and you sit down in it awkwardly, placing your essay in front of him. His eyes skim the first page before he tells you, “You usually do really well on essays, and this was … a really easy one.”

“I know,” you tell him, leaning forward to try and read what he’s reading. “I just thought you might be looking for something more complex. It seemed too simple.” When you look up, he’s staring at you, and you feel heat flood to your cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

“It really is that simple, I promise,” Professor Styles informs you, and he pushes your essay back to you. “But you’re one of my best students, and I don’t want to let this bring down your grade. So, I have an idea for how you can make it up.”

Your mind runs through all the ways you’d want to make it up to him - most of them involve you being on your knees, and you cough into your elbow. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed about it. Fantasizing about your professor from across the lecture hall is one thing, but you’re barely a foot apart from him now and you’re almost nervous he can hear your thoughts.

“I’ll do anything.” And you don’t care about the ways he could interpret it. He drums his fingers on his desk, and when you look down at his hand, you notice with a start that his nails are painted - you’d never seen that before, but you’d also never been this close to him, you suppose. You wonder if he gets them done or if he does them himself - you can’t picture him going to a salon, and the thought of him painting his own nails could make you cum on its own.

You don’t realize he’s been speaking until you zone back in, and when you look back up at him, he furrows his brows at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You shake your head. “Just - um - could you repeat that?” His eyes linger on you for just a beat too long, and your face flushes again. “So distracted,” he murmurs in a faux chastising tone, and your stomach flips. “What I said was that I’m willing to put this essay in as a 97 - your average for the class - if you would help me with grading some things. Not too heavy, maybe an hour or two after class. I’ve been falling behind with a lot of my classes and I’ve been looking for help, anyway, so it works out for both of us.”

Jesus Christ. Spending an extra hour every day with Professor Styles sounds like a recipe for disaster, and yet it also sounds completely perfect at the same time, and you’re nodding before you can fully process the pros and cons of the situation. “That sounds great. I mean, really - thank you so much.”

“S’my pleasure,” he informs you, giving you a large, dimpled smile. “So, after class, tomorrow - when I’m caught up and don’t need your help anymore, you’re off the hook.” 

“Got it.” you stand, grabbing your essay and your bag and making your way towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoes, and the last thing you see before you shut the door is him, bringing his hand up to wave you off.

 ---

 When class concludes the next day you maintain the same habit as you did the day prior - watching every student trickle out the door before swinging your bag over your shoulders, grabbing the two cups of tea that you’d made before class and making your way down to the front of the lecture hall.

Professor Styles stands in the doorway of his office, holding the door open for you - you make your way inside with a tight, only slightly awkward smile. His eyes roll over the two cups that you’re holding and he asks, with a mildly amused inflection in his voice, “I guess you like tea quite a bit, then?”

You smile, looking down at your cups, and when he shuts the door you hold one out to him. “I do like it a lot, but this one’s for you. You know, to say thank you for giving me a freebie, and also because you look like the kind of guy who loves tea.”

He laughs and your grin widens at the noise - god, it’s like music to your ears, and you would do anything to keep hearing it from him. He reaches out to take the cup from you and brings it up to his mouth, taking a small sip - when he’s done his tongue pokes out to lap up a bit of tea from his lip, and you try to ignore how much the minuscule motion affects you. “This is perfect, Y/N. Just the way I like it. You’re an angel.” Your cheeks heat up, and then he says, “But you don’t need to thank me. I’m probably gaining more from this arrangement than you are, truthfully. People are starting to get annoyed with how I’ve been falling behind grading, which is where you come in.”

Yes, you’d heard the girls next to you whispering about how bothersome it was that they’d submitted three essays in the past month and had only gotten one back. Why does he give out so much work if he’s never gonna hand it back? 

It didn’t bother you too much.

“Well - alright, then. You’re welcome for helping you grade,” you tell him, pulling out the chair in front of his desk and settling in, dropping your bag beside you. You take another brief moment to glance around his office, as though expecting something to change, but it’s the same distinctly messy, cramped office that it had been yesterday. At some point, you should tell him that he ought to clean out his space, but that’s not what you’re here for - yet.

Professor Styles nods, making his way to the other side of his desk and plopping down in his spinning chair - it was quite nice, and made you wonder why the one you sat in seemed to be falling apart at the seams. But, then, you supposed teacher salary didn’t leave room for spectacular seating. “See, that’s the spirit.” All at once, the casual discussion between the pair of you died as he dug in the drawers of his desk for something - and then he plopped a large stack of papers on the table between you both. “This isn’t all of them - not even close. You’re very smart, so this should be pretty easy for you. Just read through them, add any notes, things they need to work on, and look at the rubric for a final grade.”

You nod, picking the first essay off the top of the pile and reaching for a pen from the cup on his desk - it’s a coffee mug with the Rumours by Fleetwood Mac album cover on it, and you take a moment to marvel at it briefly. “You like Fleetwood?” you question, voice seeming unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet of his office. “Didn’t strike me as that kind of guy.”

He looks up, then, from where he’d already begun scribbling bright red notes into the margin of someone’s essay. His eyes trail down to the mug full of pens, and then back up to meet yours. “You seem to make a lot of assumptions about the kind of guy I am. What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, your voice faux sweet and innocent, and he smiles slightly. “But I’m glad you have an appreciation for really good music. I was worried your music taste would be terrible, and then I’d have to live with the knowledge that Professor Styles exclusively listens to Justin Bieber.”

Your professor rolls his eyes, smile tugging at his lips. “You know,” he begins, “you don’t have to call me Professor Styles. Not outside of class, at least. It sounds weird when it’s just the pair of us here.”

“Oh.” You pause. “What should I call you, then?”

“Harry’s fine.”

Harry Styles. The name flows easily off the tongue as you test it out in a teasing tone, your eyes meeting his as you do, and your cheeks flush. You don’t know if it's commonplace for professors to allow random students to drop formalities and call them by their first names but you’ll accept it anyway - all you know is that, when you go home tonight, the thought of calling him Harry will fill your mind until you can’t stand it anymore. 

Harry as he buries his face between your thighs.

Harry as he pounds you into the mattress.

Harry as he bends you over his desk - this desk - the one you’re sitting at right now.

You cough into your arm and pick up your pen, pressing your thighs together to try and alleviate the throbbing that’s now affecting your body. You should’ve known not to let your mind wander because you’ve barely been here for 15 minutes and you already feel like you need to go rub one out in the bathroom. But you pause - take a sip of your tea, though it’s nearly gone from drinking it so much in class - and get to work grading Brianna Valeria’s essay on Death Comes to the Archbishop. The rubric sits on the desk next to you and you bury yourself in your work - if Harry notices the sudden silence that’s overtaken you, he doesn’t mention it.

For the rest of the hour, the pair of you work in silence. It’s comforting and surprisingly not awkward, and occasionally you ask his opinion on something one of his students wrote in their essays, but the playful banter you’d had before has dissipated. You’ve finished your tea and you suspect he has, as well, with the way he’s been feverishly drinking it.

“Oh,” he says, suddenly, and you glance up from where you’re in the middle of scribbling red notes into the margins of Alexander Simmons’ essay. “You should probably get going.”

One quick glance down at your phone proves that he’s right, and you rise from the extremely uncomfortable seat you’ve been perched in for the hour - you can practically hear your butt crying in relief. “Thank you so much for the tea,” Harry tells you, handing back his cup, and it’s empty, like you expected. “And - um. You don’t have to call me Harry if it makes you uncomfortable. Just thought it would be less formal, but if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

Ah. He took your silence as you being uncomfortable calling him Harry. Well, it’s better than him knowing just how wet the sentiment made you, but you shake your head immediately. “No. No, I prefer calling you Harry. You’re right - it’s weird when it’s just us.”

He grins at you, then, standing up from his seat and stretching his arms over his head. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“You know, if I’m calling you Harry now, I think you should drop formalities too. Make it equal.”

“Okay … Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Harry,” you tell him, turning and walking out of his office with your phone in your pocket and two cups in your hands, blissfully unaware of your abandoned bag still sitting next to the terribly uncomfortable chair you’d been all too quick to leave.

 --

 It’s only when you’ve finished the trek back to your dorm, the sun beginning to lower down into the horizon, that the absence of your bag on your shoulder becomes prominent.

You can’t get into your building without your key and your key is in your bag and your bag is … back in Harry’s office, where you nearly made yourself cum just thinking about him. And the thought of having to go back across campus, back to his office, when he might not even be there, is not favorable, but you need your key and you need to bang out homework tonight, so with a soft groan you spin on your heel, walking away from the warm comfort of your building and making your way back to his.

As summer bled into fall and fall begins to bleed into winter, the weather has changed so drastically in just the past week or so that you tug your cardigan closer to your body, but the air that seeps through the holes in the crocheted sweater send goosebumps trailing up and down your body. The wind whips your face and brings tears to your eyes that run down your cheeks, and when you’re finally at the door of Harry’s building it’s a welcome surprise to walk inside, allowing the warmth to embrace you - even if the shock of the changing temperatures causes your eyes to water again.

His office is on the 2nd floor, so you pull open the door to the staircase and make your way up the two flights. Most professors have gone home for the day, classrooms dark as you speed past them to where you know his office is. 

His office is dark and your heart sinks at the sight - there are a few posters pinned to the small window, but you can see the lack of light clear as day. Your hand grasps the doorknob anyway, turning it without any hope that it would open - but then it was, giving you access to his dark office, and by the seat you’d occupied later you can make out your bag.

A breath of relief escapes your throat as you take a step inside, reaching down to swing it over your shoulder before turning to leave. And then you hear it - a small breath, an indicator of someone else in the room, and you whip around to look back around at the office.

Oh.

Harry sits in his chair, face buried in his arms, fast asleep. His hair is messy and in front of him sits the stack of essays you’d been working at early, hardly any smaller than when you’d left. It would nearly be an adorable sight - your professor, passed out at his desk - but it just seems concerning, and without thinking you’ve leaned over the desk, placing your hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly.

“Professor?” your voice is soft, barely audible, and you speak louder when you say, “Harry?”

He doesn’t respond, so you say, louder still, “Harry?”

Then he stirs slightly under your touch, and you drop your hand from his shoulder as he lifts his head from where it had been resting on his arms, looking up at you with messy eyebrows and a thoroughly confused expression on his face. “What - what are you doing here?” Jesus. His voice is deep and raspy, sounding as though he’d been sleeping for ages instead of merely less than an hour, and if his present state wasn’t slightly concerning to you, you know that you’d feel the effects of his words between your thighs. But you pause, staring down at him, before asking, “What are you still doing here?”

“Just working on some grading.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking around the darkened office with an air of distinct confusion.

“With all due respect, Harry,” you tell him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I think you’re burning yourself out. You should go home.”

He hesitates, and then questions, “Why are you here? I thought you left -”

“I forgot my bag,” and you hold it up to demonstrate it to him. “Are you going to go home? I’m serious - you need a break. And to sleep on a bed.”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, and he stands up from his chair. It moves back and hits the wall with a soft thud that goes unnoticed by both of you. “You should go home, too. I need to finish some stuff up. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

To neither of your surprise, you don’t move from your spot standing before his desk. You cross your arms over your chest, digging your sneakered toe into the plush rug on the floor of his office - you hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s pale blue and bright against the mahogany floors. The brief silence between you two, daring either of you to speak, fills the confined space and all you can hear is the ticking of the clock behind you, and finally you say, “You’re not going to get anything done when you’re exhausted. I mean, you fell asleep on the essays. How are you going to explain why there’s drool on their assignments?”

He gives you a tight lipped smile in response, looking down at the essay he’d been working on as if to check that no saliva had landed on the words. “You caught me at a bad time. I don’t usually fall asleep on top of student essays, I promise - but you should be heading out now. It’s getting dark.”

It is getting dark, he’s right - the window behind his desk shows the darkness that newly falls over the campus. And the thought of walking home in the dark scares you just a bit, but you’ll suck it up if it gets him to go home too. “Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll help you grade tomorrow. But you’re fucking yourself here -”

(Harry laughs at your choice of words internally, but it comes out as a small release of air and a soft grin.)

“ - so come on. Walk out with me so I can make sure you’re actually going home.”

Perhaps he’s realized he’s fighting a losing battle here, because finally he looks back down at the stack of ungraded essays with a small sigh and then says, “Fine.”

“Great.” Your grin widens across your face, and for a moment you make to hold out your hand to him, to drag him along like you would to any of your friends - but the second your hand raises you drop it down to your side, and heat burns your cheeks. He’s not one of your other friends, you tell yourself, stepping out of his office, hearing him walk behind you. And you can’t hold his hand, even as a joke.

“Where’s your dorm?” Harry asks you as he locks the door to his office and jiggles the handle to check it, and you jump at the chance to forget about what happened - you don’t want to dwell on it. “Is it far?”

“Across campus.” You raise your arm and point in the distinct direction of where your building is. “Closer to the cafeteria, I guess.”

“Christ, you have a trek, then, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” The pair of you make your way to the staircase, and from the corner of the eye you can see his head turning left and right down the hallway, as if scanning to see if there’s anyone coming - you can imagine it wouldn’t be great for him to be seen with a student long after classes ended. “I had to haul ass there and back to get my bag.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not until you’ve left the warm building and made your way into the cold air, the sun now having retreated for the night, and immediately you wrap your sweater tighter around yourself to try and provide some semblance of warmth. Harry glances down at you with a bemused smile, and you hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“Well,” you sigh, breath coming out in white puffs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Don’t burn yourself out, professor. And get a good night’s rest.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

“Maybe.” You grin, feeling goosebumps sprout on your skin, and you shiver before turning in the direction of your dorm - the thought of walking home in the dark and cold doesn’t sound too great, but you’ve become good at dealing with it. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He doesn’t respond, and you’ve taken a few steps away when he calls out, “D’you want a ride?”

What?

“Y’know, like a ride back to your dorm. I can drop you off in the back - it’s just really cold and I’m sure you don’t want to walk so far in the dark.”

You turn back around to look at him, his cheeks a light shade of pink - whether from the cold or his offer, you can’t tell. And you’d love to jump in his car, accept his offer without a shadow of hesitation, but - “Is that allowed?”

Harry shrugs, and you know that’s code for absolutely not. “No one has to find out.”

(Your stomach drops, then.)

“Sure.” You take a few steps back towards him, and he spins on his heel, leading you to his car, and you walk in silence until you reach it. By the time you’re both safely in his car - his head turning every so often to check if there was anyone watching the pair of you - you’re shivering desperately, and you know you would have been positively miserable walking back to your dorm in these temperatures. “Thank you so much, Harry.”

“S’no problem, really.” His hand goes behind your seat as he turns to look behind him, and you hate the way the simple action makes you feel. “I’d rather know you get home safe than have you walk so far in the dark. Pretty girl like you, can never be too careful.”

You pause, cheek pressed against the cold window, and turn to look at him with a small smile. “Ooh, I’m a pretty girl now?”

“Wasn’t the point, Y/N,” Harry mutters, dropping his hand onto the center console, and if it were anyone else driving you like this, you’d rest your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and pressing your palms together. But he’s your professor, as much as you’re beginning to wish he weren’t, so you slide your hands beneath your thighs. “Which building, again?”

“McKinley,” you respond, voice barely louder than the sound of the heat blasting into his car. 

His car smells like eucalyptus and mint, and it’s surprisingly clean compared to his office - you wonder if his house is messy or clean, or a balanced mix, because you can’t quite catch a vibe for whether he’s organized or not. But, no - you’ll never see his house, surely. You can’t. 

“I used to date a girl who lived at McKinley,” he tells you, and you exhale slowly. You can tell he’s merely trying to make conversation but the sentiment isn’t making your internal conflicts any easier to manage. “Real nice dorms.”

“They’re alright.” In fact, you’ve been at university for 3 years and resided in 3 different dormitories and they’re your least favourite, with furniture that’s too big for rooms that are too small and bathrooms that can hardly fit more than 5 people, but you don’t tell him that. “Not the greatest.”

“S’what she told me, too,” Harry says, and you smile down at your lap, but you can’t find anything else to respond to that, so you take to gazing out the window.

Within a few seconds he’s slowing down, and you can recognize the back entrance to your building. You reach down and pick your bag off the ground, digging through it to find your key.

When you have it clutched in your hand, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to look at him - to your surprise his eyes are already on you, and you swallow thickly. “Um - thanks for driving me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

You hesitate a moment before turning and swinging open the car door. You hop out and, just before you can shut it, he says, “Y/N.” And when you duck your head back into his car, raising your eyebrows, he adds, “Please don’t tell anyone I drove you home. You’re right - s’not allowed.”

“Alright.” Then, before you can help yourself, you flash him a wide grin and say, “Thanks for letting me be the exception, then.”

With that, you shut the door of his car, bounding up to the door of your building, and you swear you can feel his gaze remaining on you before his car drives off, and when you turn back around, it’s gone.

(In the back of your mind, you’re entirely too aware of the fact that merely sitting in his car crossed some sort of line that you didn’t know existed until now, but you don’t really know how far past it you are - not yet.)

 --

 “I have a question.”

You look up from the rubric you’d been working at - the student whose essay you’re grading hadn’t done too well on it, but you were trying to give them the most points you could, anyway. Harry’s looking down at his essay like he hadn’t spoken, but when he feels your gaze on him, he continues. “Why did you care so much? Yesterday. Me grading more s’less work for you to do. I feel like you should be loving that shit.”

It’s a reasonable question but, for a moment, you struggle thinking of how to answer it without exposing yourself to him. Finally, you give him a grin and say, “Well, if you were sleep deprived, it would make you mean.” He chuckles softly, and you can tell that’s not the answer he wanted, and it couldn’t have been further from the truth. So you add, “I guess I’m used to being the mom friend. Making sure all of my friends get a good night’s sleep and whatever.”

Harry pauses. “So we’re friends, then.”

You shrug, trying to stop the smile from peeking through onto your face. Being friends with Harry sounds positively dreamy and if it could segue into something else - whichitcan’t - you’d be the happiest girl alive.

You nod. “Yeah, aren’t we.” But it isn’t a question, and you can see the way his eyes twinkle at your response.

After a moment, you shift in your entirely entirely entirely too bloody uncomfortable chair, the wood making your butt ache. “I have a question, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you pick the most uncomfortable chair you possibly could for your guests to sit in?”

“Gets ‘em out of my office quicker.” Harry glances up and meets your glare with a laugh. “But I don’t want you to leave, so you can move to the couch, if you’d like.”

You hop out of the chair without a second’s hesitation, clutching your essay and your pen, flopping down on the couch and feeling your body weight sink into it. God, it’s so soft and your body relaxes into it, the relief of not being confined to the small, wooden chair so magnificent you could scream. Harry watches you with an amused grin, and says, “I feel like you’re being just a bit dramatic here.”

“Me? Dramatic? Never.” You sprawl yourself across the couch, head atop of the armrest, staring up at the white ceiling tiles above you. “I’m telling you, Harry, that chair is terrible. You should burn it.”

“So dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up slightly so you can rest your paper on your lap and still manage to scrawl semi-legible notes on this person’s piss poor essay. You wonder, briefly, if this is how Harry felt when he’d graded your 1984 essay, but - well - doesn’t matter now. And you’d fail that essay a thousand times over to get to this point, a point of companionship with your professor that you’re not sure any other student has felt with him before. At least, none that he’s told you about. It makes you feel special, and spectacular, and also the tiniest bit confused.

Why are you so special?

Maybe he’s lonely, or he’s merely entertaining your presence because you’re helping him grade, but you swear you can feel something more hidden within the lines of your relationship.

It doesn’t really matter, though, even if it is just a tad confusing.

“You should get going,” Harry tells you after another 15 minutes of you working at grading the essay. “You’ve been here for nearly two hours, bloody hell, wasn’t watching the time at all.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, though, in truth, you do have quite a bit of homework to work on later. “Don’t really have anything else to do.”

You sit up anyway, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch and stretching your arms above your head. Tiredness is beginning to affect you but you try not to let it.

“Well, in any case, you should be heading out now.” Harry nods his head towards the window behind him, the blinds pulled up so you can see the sun, nearly completely sunk below the horizon, the sky fading from reds and oranges to a dark shade of blue.

“What about you, professor?”

“What about me?” “You’re going home now too - right?”

He looks at you with a faux annoyed glare, but he can’t help the amusement from seeping through his features, and finally he breaks your stare with an exhale of breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever win this against you, will I?”

And you shake your head in response. “Never. So let’s go. Get your things.”

You take the next five minutes to gather all your stuff - resting the essay on top of his desk, sliding your phone and water bottle into your backpack, and zipping your bag shut - as Harry grabs his computer bag and his key. The two of you move surprisingly in sync with each other, sorting all of your stuff from around his small office, before making your way outside with him locking the door behind him.

It’s nearly completely dark, even colder than it had been the day prior. You reach behind you and pull the hood of your sweatshirt over your hair, protecting your ears, at least, from the chill.

You turn and face him, giving him a wide smile. The air is silent around you, surprisingly empty though the bitterness of the cold must be a contributing factor to that. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor. Make sure you get a good night’s rest -”

“Don’t want a ride?”

Your grin widens, and his eyes sparkle, even in the darkness, at your expression. “Well, of course I do, but it’s rude to invite myself into your car.”

“You’re not inviting yourself - I’m inviting you. Or, rather, demanding you. C’mon.”

Harry walks fast and you have to speed up your pace to keep up with him, though you suspect that has something to do with wanting to be free of any wandering eyes as quickly as possible. You recognize his car in the parking lot and bound ahead of him, standing by the passenger side door and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and warm yourself up, and for a moment his pace slows as he stares and looks at you. Standing by his car, holding an incredibly oversized hoodie tight to your body, a wide smile gracing your face.

“Staring is rude, professor,” you inform him as he shakes his head, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

Your lilt is teasing but you can tell it makes him slightly defensive either way.

“S’hard not to sometimes,” Harry tells you, and you giggle softly.

“So first, I’m a pretty girl, and now I’m hard not to stare at?” You drop your head back against the headrest, blowing air softly out of your mouth as you reach to buckle your seatbelt. “Keep this up, Harry, and my ego’s gonna be too big to even fit in your car.”

Harry laughs at that, resting his hand on your seat to back out of his parking spot. The radio softly plays some pop song that had been overtaking the charts recently, and you hum softly to it before turning your head to look at him. You examine his side profile - perfect, like every other angle of him - as he pulls out of the parking lot, making a left out of it.

He turns to see you watching him, and you watch redness bloom over his cheeks. “Staring is rude, Y/N.”

You smile, about to parrot his previous words back at him - it’s hard not to - but you bite your tongue, gazing at the road in front of you. A light drizzle is beginning to fall, a barely audible pitterpatter on the windshield, and that’s the only noise, for a moment - that and the radio playing, like a thought in the back of your mind.

The drive to your dorm seems to be taking longer than it had been yesterday and you can’t imagine why, but you appreciate just sitting in the car with him. Even if you’re not saying much, listening to his even breathing calms you.

You want to break the silence, though it’s comfortable rather than awkward. You like talking to him, like hearing everything he has to say, but you have no idea what you can possibly tell him that wouldn’t seem forced and awkward. So you sit, curling your legs up to your chest as you stare at the streets, and entirely too soon, the back of the McKinley building becomes apparent.

You want to stay in his car forever. Want to stay with him forever.

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him, your voice sounding uncomfortably loud in the soft car. He nods in response, but for a moment neither of you move. You can’t bring yourself to leave yet, even if you know you have to, that he might have someone waiting for him at home.

“Y/N.” You turn and look at him, your eyes meeting his with your brows furrowed. “Uh - if you ever want a ride home, or to class, you can just let me know. Text me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Harry’s cheeks are bright pink and there’s too much tension in the car, so thick you feel like you could cut it with a knife, and you lean down, unzipping your bag and pulling your phone out.

He takes it from you once you unlock it, going into your contacts and you watch as he types his phone number in, adding the contact name as Harry S. and you think you’ll be changing that later. He leaves the contact photo blank, which you expected - if anyone saw the name Harry S. in your phone, the contact photo would give it away.

He hands your phone back to you when he’s done, and your fingers graze his when you take it. “Just text me, then. If you need a ride.”

“Alright.” you give him a smile, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door. “Thank you, Harry. Really.”

“My pleasure,” he says, and you grab your bag, hooking your arm underneath the strap and racing up to the back entrance of your building. It’s only when you get inside, the door firmly shut behind you, that you turn around again, and his car is gone.

 --

 10:52 PM

Y/N: hey professor...it’s y/n. just wanna make sure u have my number saved in case of emergencies

Harry S.: How is it you can have the highest grade of any student in my class and use improper grammar while texting?

Y/N: it’s a talent i guess

Y/N: texting like you’re writing an essay makes ppl v uncomfortable, and i speak from personal experience

Harry S.: So you’re uncomfortable right now, then?

Y/N: nooo, ur different

Harry S.: To quote this girl I know, ‘thanks for letting me be the exception, then.’

Y/N: how did u remember that? that makes me uncomfortable

Harry S.: Haha.

Harry S.: You should be sleeping right now. Students need their full 8 hours, don’t they?

Y/N: so do professors, as i keep telling u, but…

Y/N: i had hw to do, also had to make mac n cheese for dinner

Harry S.: You can do your homework in my office, you know. And then you can probably make it to the refectory for dinner.

Y/N: the food at the refectory sucks

Harry S.: Yeah, you’re right.

Harry S.: But I do feel bad that staying to help me grade made you have to stay up until 11 doing homework.

Y/N: well honestly i’d rather be sitting in ur office talking to u than in my dorm doing american lit work

Harry S.: Why’s that?

Y/N: ig i like hanging out with u

Y/N: u should feel honored btw

Harry S.: Believe me, I do. And now you should get to bed so you’re not grumpy tomorrow morning.

Y/N: ig i deserved that… and i’ll only go to bed if u do too

Harry S.: I will.

Y/N: promise??

Harry S.: I promise.

Harry S.: Goodnight.

Y/N: goodnight, professor

 --

 After a week, your arrangement has changed slightly.

Every day, you spend just a bit more time in his office. Then he drives you home, in comfortable silence, and from the minute you step into your dorm, you’re fishing your phone out of your bag to text him. Every night that you lie awake, texting him until you physically can’t keep your eyes open, the line that you’ve been dipping your toe across falls back even more.

The stack of assignments that need to be graded are beginning to dwindle, and you hate it. Hate to see the pile of ungraded work getting smaller and smaller, because when it’s gone, you probably won’t step foot in his office again.

Truthfully, and as embarrassing as it may be, Harry has become one of your closest friends at school. He’s funny and nice, and he brought you hot chocolate with powder left unmixed at the bottom after you mentioned that’s how you used to like it when you were younger, and he plays music on his phone at a low volume while you work on grading. 

Of course, as your friendship with Harry grows, so does the burning feelings for him that reside in the pit of your stomach day after day. And you know he doesn’t feel the same - he can’t - and maybe that’s painful for you, only slightly, but you’ve become rather talented at hiding those emotions. He can’t know that, everytime he laughs at one of your jokes, your heart swells - and everytime he reads a sentence from one of the essays out loud, using a mocking, deep voice, it makes your stomach flip.

You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so passionately about anyone, and that’s scary. Scary to think that the one man you want more than anyone else is the only person you can’t have.

“Y/N,” he says, and when you look up at him from your spot sprawled on the couch, he’s nibbling at the tip of his pen. “D’you think this makes sense?”

And he reads you a few lines written by one of his students - a name you recognize from being in your class, you think, but you’ve been paying attention less and less to other students during lectures. All you focus on is Harry, his booming voice projecting through the hall as he talks about the stories you’re reading, and every so often his eyes meet yours and the smile that spreads across his face could bring tears to your eyes, if you let it.

“Um - I guess. It’s worded kind of strangely, don’t you think? But I’d cut them some slack on it.” Harry nods and scribbles something in the margins of Nathalie Carron’s essay before flipping the page. “Can I put in a song request?”

He nods, then, picking up his phone from where it sits on his desk. The Chain plays softly, not too loud to interrupt your train of thought, but not too soft that you can’t hear it. “‘Course.”

“Heroes by David Bowie.” You glance back up at him, dropping Hannah Joseph’s essay on your stomach. “You like Bowie, right?”

“Who doesn’t, is the real question.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You grin, glancing up at the white tiled ceiling as the song fills the hair, replacing Fleetwood. “You know, we should make a playlist for grading.”

Harry laughs. “A playlist of just Fleetwood and a dash of Bowie?”

“No, no. It can have other stuff, too. I mean, we know what we like.”

“Alright, alright.” He picks up his phone again, and you see his thumbs moving feverishly on the screen. “Y’know what, I’ll make it right now and show it to you for approval.”

“Make it good.” You pause, picking your essay up again. “No Justin Bieber.”

He snorts, and you relish in the noise.

The next ten minutes passes in mainly silence - when Heroes ends, Fleetwood continues, playing Secondhand News, and you hum to the tune. Harry’s ringer is on and you can hear it, the sound of the keyboard on his phone as he searches up song titles, and you rest the essay back on your stomach, writing messy notes with the pen you snatched from the mug on his desk again.

You sit up, suddenly, leaning over to rest Hannah’s fully graded essay on his desk, and instead of reaching for a new one to work on, you push yourself to your knees, resting your palms on his desk and attempting to lean over and peek at the playlist. But he anticipates that - he knows you’re nosy - and tilts his phone towards him, intercepting your attempts to eavesdrop.

“Don’t be impatient,” he murmurs, a smile tugging across his lips as he scrolls through something. “I’m almost done.”

You hum in response, dropping back down onto the couch, stretching your entire body across it, head resting on the armrest. The two of you settle back into a comfortable silence - he’s paused the music, by now - lasting only a moment or two before he stands up from his insanely comfortable chair, maneuvering his way around to the couch where you’re lying. He crouches down next to you, handing you his phone, opened to a Spotify playlist, and you greedily snatch the device from him, flicking through the songs.

Your eyes scan every song, absorbing every song title.

I Walk The Line by Johnny Cash - My Eyes Adored You by the Four Seasons - Your Song by Elton John?

Love songs. Every single one of them.

You push yourself up, sitting leaning against the armrest, as your eyes fall on the last song of the playlist - When I Kissed The Teacher by Abba. You lower his phone to your lap, looking at him with a slightly confused smile adorning your face.

He watches you intently, your heads a mere few inches apart, then reaches down to grab his phone off your lap, and you laugh lightly before saying, “it’s a lot of love songs.”

“They reminded me of you,” he tells you, voice quiet, testing the waters.

“They - they did?” It doesn’t make sense to you - doesn’t make sense that 45 love songs should bring you to the forefront of his mind, that every single time he hears Fooled Around And Fell In Love he should think of you. 

They make you think of him, though. 

And without thinking - of what you’re doing or of the consequences - you lean in, closing the short distance between your faces, pressing your lips against his so softly that it feels like it’s a mere breath on your mouth.

Harry pulls back, lips barely a centimeter from yours, exhaling softly. “We shouldn’t.”

You hum in agreement, already leaning back in. “No, we really shouldn’t.”

Your lips meet again and his hand goes to your face, cupping your jaw, and when he deepens the kiss you whimper into his mouth, bringing both of your hands to the back of his head. Your fingers bury themselves in his curls, tugging on the chocolate brown strands, and he groans softly into your mouth.

It’s everything you’d imagined and more, as the hand not on your cheek drops down to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. The angle is awkward - you sitting on the couch and him kneeling before it - so you unattach your lips, much to your dismay, and swing your legs around the edge of the couch so he’s situated between them. Harry’s eyes are wide, his hair mussed up, and you lean back in without a moment’s hesitation to resume the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, and he tastes like mint tea and fucking heaven.

Both of his hands go down to your waist, tugging you to the very edge of the couch so your bodies are as close as they can be, and yours go to the back of his neck, dipping underneath the collar of his button down shirt to scratch at his back. It feels muscular, more toned than you were expecting, and feeling the skin underneath your nails makes you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck -” you groan softly as he moves his lips down your chin and to your jaw, nibbling softly at your skin, as if experimenting to see what you like - your reaction prompts him to move further down, licking a stripe down your neck and to the base of your collarbone. One of his hands - very large hands - slide up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing the mound of flesh through your tight shirt. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Harry hums against your collarbone, pressing open mouthed kisses across your skin. Your nails dragging down his back causes him to bite down gently to stifle the moan rising from his throat, but you hear it and Goditspursyouonsofuckingmuch. “God, Y/N -”

His praise is cut short by the sound of three swift knocks on the door - he pulls back from you, nearly falling back on his ass with the speed at which he stands, and your eyes flash to the door. Your heart is pounding desperately in your chest - are the doors soundproof? Did someone outside hear you? The thought makes you sick to your stomach, and your eyes meet Harry’s to find the same worry in his orbs.

Within moments he’s back behind his desk, running a hand through his hair to try and smooth it out, and you’ve reached to grab Hannah Joseph’s essay off his desk just as he calls, “come in!” in a voice that’s far too cheery for the panic that had just overtaken the both of you.

The door opens and from the corner of your eye you can recognize the girl who walks in - she lives across the hall from you, and her name is … Anna or Emma or something similar. She’s nice, and you should remember her name, but your brain is so scrambled that you can’t think of it.

Harry kissing you. Harry making you a playlist. Harry’s hands on your waist, pulling your body into his.

It’s everything you’ve dreamt of since the beginning of the semester, feeling his touch on you. And when you close your eyes, you try to imagine what would have happened if nobody knocked on the door, and it sends a shiver down your spine that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, sitting at his desk as he looks over Anna-or-Emma’s essay.

You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. The girl (who, now that you think of it, may be named Alana) is asking Harry a million bogus questions about the essay requirements he’d just given out and her shirt is so low cut that you’re surprised her boobs haven’t fallen out. Whether that was intentional or not isn’t something you dwell on, but something about sitting on the couch, trying to steady your breathing while your clit throbs violently feels wrong.

“I’m gonna go, professor,” you say, interrupting her question, and she looks at you like you just told her you’re going to give her a million dollars. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Y/N,” Harry calls as you grab your bag and shut the door behind you. His voice sounds pained, almost, as though he doesn’t want you to leave him alone with a girl whose only goal is clearly to fuck his brains out. You practically run down the hall, which isn’t close to being as empty as it usually is when you and Harry leave at the end of the day. 

Your shirt is tight and short sleeved and you can picture your jacket, up in his office, thrown over the back of the couch. You’d been in such a rush to leave that you’d left it, and you’re beginning to truly feel the consequences of it as the cold corners you, attacking your skin, and you could go back up to his office and get it but you just want to go home. The sun is setting, and it’s earlier than when you usually leave.

The walk home is decidedly miserable, the wind sending tears streaking down your cheeks, and your mind is practically going into overdrive. Jesus Christ. You kissed your professor, and he kissed you back. And then you left, like a fucking idiot. He probably feels terrible - feels like he violated you, or ruined his career. But he hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. If you were more respectable you’d go back to his building and apologize for running out, wrap your arms around him and kiss him like you fucking mean it, but all you do is scan your card to get into McKinley and walk down the hall to your dorm.

Your roommate is out - at her boyfriend’s, as per usual, but you appreciate it. Truth be told, you haven’t seen her much since the first few weeks of the semester, but she seemed nice enough. You drop your bag onto your bed and collapse on top of the covers, gazing up at the ceiling.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, brushing your fingertips over your lips with the same feather light touch that the first press of Harry’s lips to yours had felt like. You can still feel it - feel him - if you close your eyes, his hands grasping your hips and his lips trailing down your collarbone.

Slowly, you press your palm to your stomach, trailing it down your torso until you reach the button of your jeans. You undo it with shaky fingers and push them lower down, beneath the hem of your cotton thong, and the first brush of your fingertips against your clit sends a shiver down your spine and a whine falling off your lips.

Harry’s hand on your chest, squeezing your breast through your shirt as he kisses down your neck - oh my god, licking down your neck, biting your skin, his eyes are so wide, his hair is messy from where you grabbed it, and you hadn’t been interrupted he would’ve climbed on top of you, pressing you into the couch, tugging your jeans down your thighs and -

Maybe he would’ve done what you’re doing now, sliding his digits into your heat, fingers longer than yours, hitting every spot that you need him to. Or maybe he would’ve slid down your body, lifting your shirt to suck a deep purple mark into your chest, before burying his face in your cunt -

A very loud moan falls from your lips as you push a finger inside of yourself, curling them immediately to hit the spot inside of you that makes your tummy flip.

But maybe - just maybe - Harry wouldn’t have bothered with that. Would’ve watched, breathing so heavy as you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his nice dress pants to wrap your hand around his cock, throwing his head back and moaning as you swiped your thumb over the tip of him.

You’re so close so fast you can practically taste the orgasm creeping up on you, your hips bucking up to meet where your fingers are feverishly rubbing circles on your clit.

And he would’ve slid into you, and he’s so big that he’s stretching you out more than any of your fingers or the guy you’ve been with, and he’d grab your chin and force your head up and kiss you so fucking hard, his hips flush against yours -

With a strangled cry, you curl your fingers once more and then you’re cumming, release coating your fingers as your hips roll into your hand. All you can think about is him and what could have happened, and the fact that you may have ruined the start of something magnificent, but God if the orgasm wasn’t good.

You pull your hand out of your panties, wiping your dripping fingers on the denim of your jeans. For a moment, you merely stare back up at the ceiling, focusing on steadying your breathing, and then you stand up, kicking your jeans off your legs and tossing them onto your dresser. You have a pair of plaid pajama pants crumbled in a pile at the bottom of your bed from the morning, and you pull them over your legs with a sigh. Perhaps it’s not the height of cleanliness, but they’re soft and comfortable, and you lie back down on your bed once they’re on.

After nearly an hour, you still haven’t done anything but sit and do nothing, occasionally flicking through your phone. You wish you could fall asleep but your brain is working far too fast to even think about resting, and -

The sound of your phone getting a notification startles you, and you groan, grabbing your phone to look at whoever disturbed your panic.

Harry S.: I’m behind your building. I have your jacket.

He’s here? Jesus Christ, you just came over him and damn near cried over him and now you have to see him.

Perfect.

Your heart skips a beat, and you jump up without a second thought. You look an absolute fool, stuffing your feet into the first pair of shoes you can find - a pair of slip on Vans that are so dirty they can barely constitute as white - before you’re running out the door, your phone tucked in the waistband of your pants, heading down the hall and out the back entrance where Harry’s black car sits, waiting.

You walk up to his car, pathetically out of breath, and lower your head so you can see him through the window as he rolls it down.

“Hi.” Your tone is quiet, and you clear your throat. “Um, I’m sorry about running off like that. I just got overwhelmed and that girl showing up made me - um - nervous.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, though he’s very pointedly not making eye contact. “M’sorry if I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, or -”

“No, I kissed you first -”

“But I’m your professor.” He says the word with an odd inflection, nearly pained. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. I’m sorry.”

You dig the toe of your shoe into the road, looking down at the passenger seat where your jacket sits, waiting. The tension is palpable and you swallow thickly, then grab the car handle, forcing the door open so you can grab your jacket. You wrap the fabric around your shoulders - the seat heaters made it warm and you could nearly cry at the way it embraces you.

Harry watches you - you can see him from the corner of your eye - and then he looks down at your body, your shirt and your pajama pants with no pockets, and asks, “D’you have your key to go back in your dorm? S’just, you don’t have any pockets … I can’t see it.”

Shit. No, you don’t. You hadn’t thought about that when you were running out to see him. Perhaps he can decide the answer from the way your face drops, because he exhales with a small smile, barely perceptible, and nods his head. “Get in.”

You grab the door handle again, pulling the door open and climbing inside. The seat is toasty and warm and the car is toasty and warm and altogether you feel like both of those adjectives combined. The radio plays softly - or maybe it’s his phone, hooked up to the aux cord, because Maybe I’m Amazed by Paul McCartney is a song you recognize reading on the playlist he’d made.  You slam the door shut and wrap your arms around yourself, holding your jacket closer to your body, before turning your head to glance at him. He still hasn’t started driving, merely gazing at you, and you feel your skin heat under his eyes. “Where are we going, professor?” It’s a stupid question, because you aren’t going anywhere yet, and he doesn’t look like he plans to start driving anytime soon.

“I’ll take you back to my apartment.” HIs eyes haven’t left yours, and your stomach turns. “How does that sound?”

You exhale softly. “Sounds perfect,” and then you’re leaning in, pressing your cold palms to the side of his cheeks and bringing his face into yours.

Your lips meet and it’s more desperate than it was in his office - teeth clashing and your tongues brushing against each other, as if he’s trying to devour you. His hand rests atop of yours, dwarfing you pathetically, before dragging his fingertips down your arm and up to your shoulder, fingers dipping beneath the sleeve of your shirt.

Where you’re cold from the air outside, Harry is so warm and toasty, his breath hot against your face when you pull away briefly. He presses his forehead to yours and then leans up, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose and smirking at the whimper you let out.

“Wait,” he tells you, voice low and quiet, and you nod slowly. “When we get to my apartment - but not now.”

You nod feverishly and sit back in your seat obediently, desperate for him to finally start driving. His hand rests on top of the center console and you stare at it for a moment - you can do it, do what you’ve wanted to do every single time he’s driven you home - and you place your palm overtop of his. He turns it over so your palms are pressed together, fingers intertwining, and you’re sure he can hear your heartbeat with how loudly it’s beating in your chest.

The line that you’ve crossed is so far behind you that it’s a mere dot in the distance. 

The car ride to his apartment is short - only 2 full songs play during it, and you recognize My Girl and I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight from the playlist. Truth be told, it feels as though you’d been in the car for hours and hours, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. You want nothing more than to crawl across the center console and straddle him, kiss him until you’re both breathless and go as far as you’d fantasized about but you have to wait.

 --

 Harry’s unlocking the door of his apartment entirely too slow for your liking. It’s as though he’s trying to tease you, make you antsy, when all you want is for him to press you against the wall and kiss you silly. 

He lives in a large brick apartment building - one of the newer ones, you know - in an apartment on the third floor. You’ve passed his building so many times driving through town and you never even knew it - didn’t know the man who lived there was someone you’d be so desperate for.

“Come on,” he whispers, though there’s no real reason for the two of you to be quiet - perhaps it just fits the mood. Harry’s hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you into the now-open door of his apartment, flicking on the light switch residing beside the door. 

As light floods the apartment you’re somehow both surprised and also not at all. It’s surprisingly tidy, resembling more of his car than his office, and - to your relief - it’s quite obvious he’s the only one who lives here. You slip out of your Vans and take a moment to look around. A cat sits on top of the couch (her name is Marie, named after Aristocats, you learned from class) and you can’t stop yourself from gravitating towards her, using two fingers to stroke down her back as you peek around the apartment.

Yes, it is quite clean, and surprisingly colorful - there’s a striped rug and red couches and your eyes fly a bookshelf filled with picture frames against the wall. One is him with four other guys, arms wrapped around each other - one of him and Marie - one of him, significantly younger, hugging a girl who looks extremely similar to him.

“Is this your sister?” you ask, unaware of where he is in the apartment but trusting he hasn’t strayed too far from you.

“Yeah,” he responds, and you jump slightly. Harry stands just behind you, and when you turn to face him he’s fighting back a grin. “So nosy, aren’t you?”

You raise your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling his head down to yours as his hands gravitate down towards your lower back where your shirt rises just a couple inches from your pants, exposing a strip of skin, and his touch sends a shiver down your spine. “I guess I am nosy. Can’t help it.”

Harry leans down, then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and down the bridge of your nose before landing on your lips - you whine into his mouth, pushing yourself onto your toes to try and deepen it, swiping your tongue into his mouth. It’s so different than before - heavier, deeper, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Please,” you whimper against his lips as his hands creep farther down your back, landing on the globes of your ass through your soft pajama pants. “I need you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You can hear a sense of cockiness working its way into his voice and you groan softly as he pulls away from you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

You need everything. You need everything he can possibly give you and more - you need wish fulfillment of everything you’ve dreamt of since the start of the semester and that includes every single goddamn appendage on his body put to use somehow.

But you can’t possibly begin to tell him that, not yet. His fingers are already trailing down to the waistband of your pants, tugging at the tie that holds them up when you breathe, “Your mouth. Please, I need - I need your mouth.”

It’s not enough for him, you can tell, as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your throat, sucking softly. “M’using my mouth.”

“H - Harry …”

“Where d’you want my mouth?”

You curse beneath your breath, and he pulls his head back to raise his eyebrows at the sound. You bury your hand in his hair, tugging lightly on his curls, before squeezing your eyes shut and muttering, “Want your mouth … down there.”

As much as you want it - and Godyouwantitsofuckingmuch - it makes it no less awkward to say it out loud.

“Down where, baby?” Harry asks, voice teasing and so fucking smug. “Down here?” His hand sprawls across your stomach, pressing down on your abdomen and you moan softly. “No … down here, s’that right?”

His hand slides down to your cunt, pressing his palm overtop of you through your pajama pants and you’re so wet you’re sure he can feel it even through two layers of fabric. Your throaty cry in response and the feverish nod of your head confirms what he’d been teasing you about, and Harry delivers one last soft kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees before you.

Fuck. You never thought you’d see Professor Harry Styles, the man of your dreams and the one person you considered to be entirely unattainable, kneeling in front of you with his nice dress pants on and a crisp button up shirt. He looks entirely normal, save for his messy hair and lust blown pupils, and you’re sure you look a bloody mess but his eyes still devour you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You drop your shaky hands down to the tie of your pants, undoing it at record speed, and he hooks his fingers in your waistband. Slowly - so slowly - Harry tugs them down and his eyes remain on you as though expecting you to stop him, but you can’t. Finally they pool by your feet and you lift your legs to kick them off, sending them flying near the couch where Marie resides.

Had you known this would be happening perhaps you would have opted for racier panties - your cotton thong isn’t terrible but it certainly isn’t doing you any favours, and you have so many lace ones at home that would have been perfect for the opportunity - but Harry still looks at you like you created the world. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh and then the other, leaning in to suck a dark purple hickey into your skin.

You suppose he has a thing for hickeys.

Your fingers twist in his curls, trying to direct his head up to where you truly need him, and he chuckles softly - the soft exhalation of air makes you whine as it hits your cunt, even through your panties. A soft kiss is what he lands on your clothed clit, and your hips buck up into his mouth. You’d forgotten, perhaps, that you’d had an orgasm less than an hour prior but you’re very swiftly reminded, and he looks up at you with a smirk.

“So reactive,” he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit through your underwear and sucking softly. “Just the way I like.”

A shaky breath escapes your mouth as you toss your head back, legs shaking and you can’t expect them to hold you up much longer. One of his hands moves to the back of your thigh, kneading your skin softly, and the other dips into the hem of your panties and slowly tugs them down. You’re so wet that the fabric is desperate to stick to your dripping cunt but he manages to roll them down your legs, face to face with your pussy and -

Heat floods through your body and up to your face as you look down and make eye contact with Harry. Now that he’s down there, gazing at your bare pussy, you feel oddly compelled to protect whatever modesty you have left and shut your legs but then he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, pushing you back just a bit until your back smacks into the wall, and leans in.

The first stripe he licks up your core sends a choked cry from the back of your throat and then a long whine as Harry focuses his attention on your clit. His tongue flicks the swollen bud, still rubbing circles into the back of your thigh. Your heel digs into his back as he moves one hand up to your cunt, running his finger through your soaked folds before pushing it inside of you.

He curls his finger, mimicking a come hither motion until he brushes against the spot that makes your hips jerk against his face. Harry’s lips wrap around your clit and when your eyes roll back into your head, he takes his hand off your thigh and snaps his fingers.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice muffled against your cunt, and the vibrations roll through your body like an earthquake. “I wanna watch you fall apart. Look at me.”

Slowly you lower your eyes back down to him, meeting his gaze as he pulls his mouth away briefly - smacks his lips - and pushes a second finger into your dripping heat. As he thrusts them in and out, hitting that sweet spot in your velvet walls, you can feel your orgasm building in the pit of your tummy embarrassingly fast, but you want to hold out for him. Want to prolong this as long as you can.

Harry’s teeth brush against your clit and you cry out, barely hearing the way he groans, “So fucking reactive for me, yeah?” but you can hear it and it only makes you moan louder. His tongue draws patterns over your clit and he’s so determined to maintain eye contact but you can tell it’s a struggle for both of you.

He pulls his fingers out of you, licking a thin stripe up one of them as if he can’t get enough of your taste before reaching his arm up so his fingers rest on your bottom lip. Obediently you open your mouth, accepting his digits and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself on his skin, as he leans back, glancing up at you with heat blazing in his eyes.

“You’re close,” he tells you, his voice deep and throaty. “Can feel it - feel how you’re clenching around my fingers, baby. D’you wanna cum? Tell me how fucking bad you want it.”

Harry pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing a slow circle as you struggle to find your voice before gasping, “Fuck - need to cum so fucking bad Harry - Harry, oh my god -”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh my god, H - Harry -”

“Cum for me, baby.”

He leans in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your tummy finally exploding. Your head falls back against the wall with a thud that’s hardly audible over your loud shrieks and moans, your leg finally giving out and you damn near slide to the ground before Harry hooks an arm around your thigh to keep you upright.

His tongue flicks at your clit gently, riding you through your orgasm, and when you’re coming down from your high it’s all you can focus on. There’s a high pitched ringing in your ears and you don’t think you’ve ever - ever - cum that hard in your life. You’d only been with one guy before who didn’t even know women could orgasm and your fingers never gave you anything so earth shattering.

Your breathing comes out in desperate pants as Harry rises from his knees, moving both hands to your hips as your legs nearly collapse again. Your clit is throbbing and when you press your body to his, leaning up to kiss him so desperately, you can feel his boner, hard against your thigh.

“Holy shit, professor.” It’s all you can manage, pulling away to drop your head against his chest, using the moment to try and steady your breaths. “W - who knew you were so good at that.”

His fingers brush through the ends of your hair, a gesture so sweet and innocent that it could make you forget what just occurred. “A hidden talent, I guess,” he mutters, gripping your chin to kiss you again.

You drop your hands to his waist, gripping his nice button down shirt in your tight grasp, surely wrinkling the fabric as you roll your hips against his. Even through his pants his hard on feels fucking huge and you’ve only been with one guy before and suddenly you’re wondering if he’ll even fit inside of you.

But you’ll try. By god, you’ll try. And you press your head to the wall, looking up at him with lust dilated pupils. “Harry.”

“Tell me what you need, baby.” But he already knows, and you can tell he needs the same thing.

You swallow, bucking your hips forward against his boner, and he groans. “I want you to fuck me. Please. I - I need you to fuck me, professor.”

The word makes him moan aloud, and within barely a second he’s grabbing your wrist, tugging you away from the wall and across the apartment until he’s swinging open a door and pulling you inside.

Something about being in his bedroom is entirely different than being in his living room, the carpet beneath your bare feet plush and soft. There’s a large television in front of his bed and the bed is made beautifully, a flannel blanket tossed over the end, and you can’t fucking wait to mess it up.

Harry spins you around to face him, attaching your lips once more as he shuts the door. You whimper into his mouth as his hand drops down to your bare bum, squeezing the flesh in his large palm. “Sorry,” you murmur, voice high pitched and breathy, “was nosing again -”

He groans as you drop your hand to the front of his fancy dress pants, trying desperately to undo the button with one shaking hand. It’s a struggle and finally he chuckles breathlessly, dropping both hands down to help you with the task, and finally you reach your hand into his trousers and press your palm against his cock, hot and heavy even through his boxers.

“Bed,” he grunts, backing you up until the back of your knees hit a hard edge and you fall backwards onto his plush duvet. He stands above you, breathing heavily, and for a moment you stare at each other, as though processing that this is happening - and the moment picks up again. Harry reaches down and tugs at the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off your body and sending it into the corner of the room. Your bra is lace, at least, and decidedly prettier than your panties, and for a moment he stares down at your chest with a look of pure lust adorning his face.

“You look a bit flushed, professor,” you tell him, voice faux innocent and sounding entirely more confident than you feel. “Are you feeling okay?”

Harry chuckles through gritted teeth, and you push yourself onto your elbows so you can work at the buttons of his shirt as he tugs his pants down his legs. “I’ve never been better, in fact.” His boxers are flannel and you can see the bulge in his boxers, and it’s even bigger than what you’d expected.

Your work at undoing his buttons slows down as your mind suddenly flips into overdrive - you must wear the worry that suddenly overtakes you because Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“When’s the last time you’ve done this?” he questions, voice soft and spun sugar sweet.

“Um -” you try and think. The last time you’d done this you’d lost your virginity and that was - “A year ago. Maybe longer.”

Harry nods, nudging your nose with his and giving you one final kiss before rising back up. His hands replace yours as he works on unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to go slow, baby. I promise.”

In every fantasy you’ve had about him, he’s not slow - he’s fast, pounding you so hard the bed is nearly louder than the noises you make - but now that you’re here with him? Maybe you need slow.

You nod, and he smiles down at you. He presses his hands onto the mattress and then snakes them beneath you, fingers working at the clasp of your bra, and you lift yourself up slightly so he can undo it and slide your last piece of clothing off of you. He sends it into another part of the room and you can’t be bothered to focus on it because - Christ! - all of a sudden Harry lowers his mouth to your breast, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and sucking.

“Fuck!” you gasp, fingers working themselves into his curls. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp and he moans lowly against your skin. Harry lifts his head off of you, pinching one of your nipples so you cry out.

He lifts one leg to rest on the bed and then grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge. Your legs instinctively spread and he watches you, breathing heavily. “Baby,” he mutters, hands slipping his boxers down his thighs. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Heat burns your cheeks and you shut your eyes.

“Look at me,” Harry tells you, and it’s all you can do to obey. “Want you looking at me while I fuck you. Can you do that?”

You nod, swallowing as he grips one of your calves and hikes it onto the bed, exposing your sensitive, dripping cunt to him. You look down your body, where he’s grasping his achingly fucking hard cock in his hand, and then he drags the tip down your slit with a low hiss.

“Are you ready, baby?” he asks, voice soft and strained, as if he’s holding back and you know he is. But he needs this to be a good experience for you so it can be good for him and that’s what you appreciate.

“Y - yeah.” you push yourself onto your elbows and your eyes meet, maintaining perfect eye contact as he pushes himself inside of you. He’s going achingly slow and -

The stretch aches and you drop your head onto the mattress with a groan, Harry’s hand immediately finding your hand where you’re grasping the duvet feverishly. He bottoms out, fully sheathed in your warm cunt, a low groan piercing the air at the feeling of your walls, tight around him. It hurts - not as much as you’d expected, and the pain that quite literally fills you overtakes the burn.

You squeeze his hand, feeling his other run up and down the inside of your thigh as you adjust to him. “Oh - my god - wait - just - just one second wait one second -”

“Of course,” he breathes, and his voice is shaky with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. “T - take your time, babygirl.”

After a few seconds you push your head up to look at him, nodding slightly. “Okay. I need more, p - professor.”

You can tell he likes when you call him that and in some weird way you love it too - love knowing that the professor everyone lusts for is fucking you, slowly pulling out before thrusting back in, squeezing your hand when you cry out at the feeling. Maybe you’re not the first student to experience him like this but based on his demeanor you think you are - there’s something about him in this moment that feels like a secret you’ve discovered.

“Oh - fuck -” Harry grunts as he moves his hand from your thigh to your hip, pressing your body down with just enough force to limit your movements. It’s paining him, going so slow, you can tell - and you’re already starting to need more from him. You need him to go faster, and with a breathy moan you tell him.

Slowly his pace picks up, his grip on your hip tightening until you’re sure there’ll be fingerprint shaped bruises on your skin by tomorrow morning. With every thrust he fills you up so completely that every perfect spot inside of you is hit just right, and you never knew it could feel this good.

Every noise of his that tears through the bedroom spurs you on, pushing your hips into his to deepen every thrust. And every time you whine or whimper or cry or anything Harry delivers a harder thrust, fucking you so deep that you can feel it in the pit of your tummy.

“God, p - professor,” you moan, the word falling entirely too naturally off your lips even in your heightened state. Harry throws his head back with a high pitched whine, speeding up his pace until the loudest noise in the room is skin hitting skin. “Holy shit - fuck - I’m gonna - gonna -”

“Gonna cum around my cock, baby?” He hisses, pressing the hand that had once resided on your hip into the mattress, gripping the covers tighter so he can rail his hips into yours desperately. “So fucking tight around me, can’t even fucking stand it -”

Your hand, shaking beyond belief, slides down to rub hard circles into your clit. The sensations on your clit and his cock, rutting against your G spot with every thrust, sends you over the edge again - already so overstimulated from the rather intense orgasm you’d had before - and with a loud cry-bordering-on-scream you’re cumming again.

“Fuck!” you moan, hips bucking up against his as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. “Fuck, Harry, oh my god -”

He’s not far behind you, hips stuttering ever so slightly but he wants to bring you to one more orgasm, securing this day as the best fuck of your (admittedly limited) sex life and he can’t cum yet. Your hand falls back onto the mattress and Harry pulls his clammy hand from yours, bringing it down to replace your fingers on your clit, and immediately you clench around his cock, begging incoherently for something - you’re not sure what - as he presses down on your clit hard.

Your eyes roll back into your head as his cock twitches inside of you, and grunts and moans are flying from Harry’s mouth faster than he can control it. Your walls flutter around his dick, his thrusts slowing to lazy pumps in and out. He’s so fucking close, he just needs one more push and then -

Your fingers wrap around his wrist and he looks down at you, your eyes nearly black with desire, tears streaking down your cheeks. “C - cum in me, professor.”

It’s the final straw for Harry, and with a nearly animalistic cry he sheathes himself fully inside of you and cums so hard so fast, it’s nearly violent, and the feeling of warmth that explodes in your cunt sends you into your fourth orgasm of the night -

It’s less intense than the others but still entirely too prominent and when you’ve finally rode out the last wave you collapse against the bed, your head spinning and your legs aching as Harry presses it back down from where it had been perched up.

Harry collapses on top of you, his body suffocating and hot and sweaty and you wrap your arms around him, your desperate attempts at steadying your breathing filling the room. You’ve never cum so hard and so much and you’re fucking exhausted, truthfully.

He lifts his head, gazing down at you as you run your fingers through his tangled, sweat soaked curls. “How was that?”

You exhale with a smile upturning your lips, beginning to feel his cum dripping out of your pussy and down your thighs. “Jesus Christ,” you murmur, and a grin breaks onto his face as he drops his forehead against your shoulder.

The two of you lie in silence for a moment - no words need to be spoken. Harry shifts the pair of you further up the bed, your head crashing onto one of his pillows as he remains, firmly on top of you, like he never wants to leave.

But you can’t stop yourself from asking the question burning through your mind, and you swallow thickly before mumbling, “Harry -”

He hums softly.

“Is this like - a one time thing?”

His head lifts again, chin pressed to your shoulder blade, eyebrows furrowed. Harry takes a moment to respond, though, lifting his hand to trace a line across your jawline to your lips, and you press a soft kiss to the tips of his fingers when he arrives at his destination. “I don’t think so,” he tells you, and his voice is quiet and vulnerable, as if waiting for you to deny him. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

You smile softly, leaning in to press a kiss against his soft lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“‘Course, baby.”

The name makes your tummy flutter, and you think you could listen to him call you baby for the rest of your life. “I’ve dreamt of this,” you tell him, lips merely a centimeter from his. “Since the beginning of the semester, every night.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at you, and you giggle at his expression. “Glad to know I’m not the only one.”

You shut your eyes, then. Rest your head on his pillow, feeling warm with the man you adore pressed on top of you, his arms firmly and protectively wrapped around you. Nothing has ever felt more right to you, and you drift off to sleep with a soft smile still gracing your lips.

[taelme]

Little taste of heaven (pt 3- final)

genre: single parent!taeyong, kindergarten teacher!y/n (fluff, angst, hurt/comfort elements?)  pairing/s: Taeyong / Reader, Johnny / OC, (ft baekhyun n other nct members)  word count: 26k tw: drinking, slight age gap (5 years), mentions of sex but no smut, might get a bit emotionally heavy at some points  a/n: this is the final part for little taste of heaven!! this, similarly to part 2 was loosely inspired by na tae joo’s poem ‘I want to give you my most beautiful thoughts’! so yes. enjoy~~~ lmk u guys thoughts and do reblog! it would really help a lot also I rly like this gif its what I pictured him to look like for majority of the story like he just looks so clean cut and ugh. lets not get into that read this on ao3 part 1, part 2

“My child is fine, his older siblings all went through the same thing, he’ll be fine.”

You fiddled with the ring on your index finger, nodding with a polite smile, “We understand that, but considering he’s turning three this year, we want to encourage him to be more independent, and we need your help to encourage him to practice independence at home as well. Perhaps through encouraging him to eat on his own or wash his hands on his own.”

The mother of the boy who you were referring to was… a slightly more difficult parent, to say the least. Communication was hard, especially when you were already frustrated about her son’s situation. His situation being that he just wasn’t being cared for enough at home. Staring blankly at the young woman dressed in luxurious clothes sitting before you, you struggled to maintain your smile.

“Oh, that’s because we don’t allow him to touch anything at home,” she told you with a laugh, “Since it’s dirty.”

Your eyebrows raised, a hum leaving you as you nodded slowly, “...Right.”

Thankfully enough, your co-teacher had stepped in, explaining the need to engage the child more at home, to talk to him and show interest in what he’s doing.

His mother had simply laughed, “He hasn’t even said his first words yet, I don’t know how you think it’s so easy.”

You smiled, forcing out a laugh.

You knew your student was capable of talking, and you would know this because you’d heard it before. In your time spent with this class, the first time you’d arrived, all you ever heard about this particular boy was that he doesn’t talk.

But after a while, you realised all he needed was someone who was genuinely interested. He went from no words at all, to full sentences when he talked to you, you knew it was possible, so it was almost frustrating that his mother didn’t.

But you knew every parent’s situation was different, you know, Ning telling you to give her the benefit of the doubt and whatnot.

You’d let Ning take over the talking, reaching for your drink to finish what was left of it, nodding along every now and then with things your co-teacher would mention as you looked through the child’s portfolio for examples.

Glancing at the list of parents who had booked appointments with you, you almost sighed in relief when you realised this was the last parent you would have to see before you could go home.

You were tired beyond belief and wanted nothing more than to head home, take a nice shower and sleep.

Though little did you know, Taeyong was having just as tough of a time talking to Byul’s teacher.

Having rushed over after his last class, Taeyong was already feeling a headache coming on. Though, it seemed that the more Teacher Hana spoke, the worse his headache became.

Going through Byul’s portfolio was fine, and so was talking about her learning progress and development, but Teacher Hana seemed to have come into this with a certain goal in mind, and she wasn’t going to let anything stop her from reaching that goal.

“The last time we spoke, I informed you about Byul’s behaviour during class, right?”

Taeyong nodded.

“Well, recently Byul has expressed a lot of concerns regarding her mom,” she began, Taeyong staring blankly at Byul’s teacher, “We understand that your current arrangement doesn’t involve Byul’s mother, although we do understand that if you were to introduce another motherly figure into Byul’s life, this could cause some confusion for her.”

“She’s fine, though?” Taeyong murmured, eyebrows furrowing.

Byul’s teacher had simply given him her same sweet smile, nodding at him.

“As Byul’s teachers, we were…” she hummed, “concerned, about your involvement with Teacher Y/N. It’s possible that this relationship could be triggering her recent destructive behaviour, and her attitude towards her friends and teachers as well. We understand that it won’t be an issue for long in school because of Teacher Y/N’s dismissal—”

“Wait, dismissal?”

Teacher Hana smiled, nodding, “Yes. Did she not tell you? The school has a strict policy about whether teachers are allowed to… Nevermind, but the point is that even outside of school, we’re concerned that Y/N’s position as a teacher will interfere with Byul’s learning, as she’s confused on how to integrate her school life and her home life. She has clearly expressed an unwelcome attitude towards Teacher Y/N as a possible motherly figure for her, so we just wanted to inform you of these things we’ve noticed as her teachers. We hope you understand the school’s position on this.”

Nodding slowly, Taeyong felt as though he were watching himself from outside his body, not knowing where to start as his mind ran wild with thoughts and things he’d wished to ask you.

Tuning out the rest of her words, Taeyong had blinked slowly, his tongue coming out to wet his lips, “Is uh… Is Ms Jamie still in her office?”

===

taeyong 2:40pm -sorry, just finished recording a lecture, what are you doing? want to join us tonight for dinner at my mom’s place?-

You typed your reply out quickly.

2:40pm -sorry babe :( i’m at home but i’ve got to attend mass with my parents later at 5 and dinner with kun’s family afterwards, but i can meet you now for tea if you want?-

taeyong 2:41pm -its okay, you stay there. i’ll come over-

Waiting for Taeyong to come over, you’d continued working on your resignation letter, a part of you unable to focus because you had felt so unsettled about what you wished to talk to Taeyong about.

Fiddling with the ring on your index finger, you took it out, playing with it, stopping yourself before you could slip it over your ring finger, shoving it back on your index finger quickly.

You felt bad. Taeyong was probably expecting just a nice short hang-out with you by coming over but you couldn’t keep doing this. Each day that passed, the burden in your heart had felt heavier and heavier, you couldn’t continue keeping this from him.

Little did you know, you wouldn’t have to for much longer.

Ringing your doorbell, you’d opened the door to reveal a rather messy-haired Taeyong, looking as though he’d rushed out of his apartment for this. Dressed in his dress shirt (that you assumed he used to record his lecture) and a pair of jeans, pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

“Hey,” he breathed, cursing his anxious mind for rendering him a mess before you.

“Hey,” you stepped aside to let him enter, shutting the door behind him, “do you want anything to drink?”

Taeyong shook his head, his gaze wandering to the pain-relief patch you had pasted on the side of your wrist.

Seating himself on the sofa, Taeyong glanced at your laptop screen on full display, showing your google search on ‘what is another word for handover?’

Walking over with a glass of water in your non-injured hand even though Taeyong said he didn’t want water, figuring he might get thirsty later on, you noticed how Taeyong seemed a little more on edge than usual, his gaze fixed on his laptop as his leg bounced restlessly.

“Hey, is everything alright?” You took a seat next to Taeyong, reaching your hand out to touch his clasped hands.

There were many ways Taeyong had wanted to go about this conversation, but it seemed his anxiousness had gotten the better of him.

Tearing his gaze away from your laptop, Taeyong blurted, “Why didn’t you tell me you got fired?”

Your lips parted in shock, hand stilling over his. Right, he just finished seeing Teacher Hana.

“I didn’t get fired, I’m resigning.”

What were you doing? This was Taeyong you were talking to, not your mom.

Taeyong let out a small sigh, “I spoke to Ms Jamie, she basically didn’t give you a choice, you know?”

“I mean,” you murmured, “she gave me a choice between resigning and her firing me, at least.”

Taeyong frowned, wondering how you’d managed to still seem so calm.

“Yeah, how nice of her,” he muttered bitterly, “It’s always easier to explain a resignation as opposed to getting fired for dating a student’s parent, isn’t it?”

You were barely holding it together, “Okay, but what if I willingly made the choice?”

“Resigning?” The look on Taeyong’s face was confused, bordering on incredulous.

You nodded.

“Why?”

Your lips parted to speak, coming up short as you let out a small huff, “Because…because my presence there isn’t good for Byul.”

Taeyong had fallen silent at that, removing his hands from under yours and taking your hand in his, his thumb grazing over the ring he had gifted you, his gaze briefly flickering to the ring and back to you.

“It’s not like it was an easy decision for me, Taeyong. I meant to tell you about it sooner but I was just so… all over the place recently, I saw how Byul behaved around me and it just made me feel so…”

Shitty? Bad? What was the word you were looking for?

“Why didn’t you say something?” Taeyong’s gaze had softened, “we could’ve worked something out.”

“Honestly? because I was scared out of my mind. Look, I want to be honest with you, I thought about a lot of things when I was making this decision. You know, marriage and parenthood and career shit,” you brought your other hand up to pinch at your nose, already feeling your tears coming on.

“I don’t want to insert myself where I’m not wanted, you know? Me being with you, on this path to… you know, it wasn’t in line with what was right for Byul, and as a teacher that scared me, because I was never in this position before. Of course I want what’s best for my students, and I know for a fact that this was confusing for her and affecting her negatively, I was just stupid enough not to have realised that sooner—”

“Don’t say that,” Taeyong’s voice came out weaker than you expected, and you shook your head, your lower lip beginning to quiver as your chest felt tight.

“But we both know it’s true.”

“But how do you feel?” he asked, though you both knew the answer to that. Taeyong just felt like he needed to hear it right now.

You huffed.

“Are you crazy? I love you,” your voice faltered, blinking back your tears rapidly.

“Believe me, I want nothing more than to just trust you and let us work this out together but my mind won’t let me, Taeyong,” your gaze was fixed on his frown, “And I’d be lying if I said this was entirely about Byul, it’s more than that. You deserve someone that can be there a hundred percent for you and Byul but with how I am right now, I’m not in a good place mentally…  I don’t think I can do that for you.”

Taeyong hadn’t made any move to speak, keeping his gaze fixed on your hands and his lips pressed in a firm line.

“It’s not fair to you either, Taeyong. You deserve someone who won’t have to second guess a life with you, who can make both you and Byul happy.”

Taeyong nodded, letting go of your hand to bring his hand to cover his mouth, letting go of his face with a defeated sigh, “Call me an idiot, but I always thought you are that ‘someone’.”

You were silent for a while, as if trying to convince yourself to stay strong in the midst of your too-quiet apartment.

“It’s not good… for Byul.”

“I know, and it’s selfish, but it’s good for me,” Taeyong had finally met your gaze, almost making you look away with how much his eyes gave away what he was feeling.

“You make me want for myself… I never do that.”

Taeyong let out a deep breath, shakier than before, “That’s what I hate the most about this… I know in the end I'll still want what’s best for Byul, but that doesn’t mean I want you any less,” he shook his head.

Your frown deepened, “I know, and I’m sorry, I never wanted to put you in a position where you would have to choose between what makes you happy and what makes Byul happy—”

“Y/N,” he met your gaze, his hand coming up to your face, wiping away the tear that you hadn’t even realised had rolled down your cheek.

“Hmm?”

“I want you to be happy too, you know?”

You couldn’t control your tears when you’d heard his words, feeling as though your heart was being pummelled and it was all your fault.

Maybe if you’d met later in life, even just a little later, things might not have had to turn out this way.

“I’m sorry, I just keep thinking of things we can do to make this better.”

You nodded, “I know.”

After what felt like ages of silence, you felt as though your stream of tears was finally ceasing.

“I’m sorry it turned out this way, Taeyong. I just… need some time to sort myself out, you know, figure out what it is that I want to do moving forward. Need time for…” you swallowed, “for Byul to feel safe again.”

Taeyong, like always, was respectful of your decision, even if it felt like he was falling apart right in front of you. 

Maybe this was what his mom was trying to say, that as much as he didn’t give himself a choice in taking on parenthood, you still had a choice and he respected that.

“No, I understand. It’s important, take as much time as you need,” he sniffed.

Taeyong didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to leave, but the longer he stayed here, the more difficult it felt for him to let go of you.

Standing up abruptly, he ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. 

Taking that as a signal that he’d wanted to leave, you stood up, following behind him as he’d made his way slowly to the door, stopping just before the threshold.

Turning to face you, there was an incommunicable amount of pain you could see in his eyes.

“Maybe… maybe if we met a little later in life…” you began, immediately regretting your words and the flood of emotions they sent through your heart, “maybe things would be different.”

Taeyong knew, though, that he didn’t regret a single moment spent with you.

Pulling you into a hug, Taeyong wrapped his arms around you tightly, feeling him relax almost instantly, emotional beyond words as he held you close to him, savouring the feeling of having you close to him.

“Can we stay like this… just a little longer?” his voice was barely above a whisper, and you nodded, your arms wrapping around him.

“Of course we can,” you whispered, burying your head in his chest as your tears stained his shirt, feeling as though you had no more tears left in you.

With one hand cradling the back of your head, Taeyong felt his throat start to constrict, shutting his eyes tightly as a small whimper had left him.

You thought you were okay, you really did. Until you pulled away and before you could react Taeyong had pulled you in for one last kiss.

Every kiss felt like your first, even the last. He’d held you closely to himself, deepening the kiss with all the desperation within him to leave you with all the love he possibly could. Even with the messiness of it all, the salty taste of tears, you continued clutching tightly onto his shirt, ignoring how much your wrist was aching.

And when he pulled away, his eyes were red and bloodshot, though his gaze wasn’t like before. His gaze was hardened now as he forced his hands off of you, bidding you goodbye before clenching his jaw. He figured he had to, standing as still and rigid as he could, worried that his legs would run out of strength if he didn’t.

Without another word, he left your apartment, the echo of the door shutting louder than before, leaving you to walk back to the sofa and stare at the untouched glass of water sitting on your coffee table.

===

“Heaven,” Edward had uttered upon feeling Bella rush into his arms just before he could expose himself to the public.

Your lips parted, a sour taste in your mouth as you switched channels in annoyance.

Heaven? Please.

You bit off another chunk off your ice cream stick harshly, braving through the regret of the cold that rushed up to your brain as you huffed, switching to a cooking channel and tossing the remote aside.

At the same time, you couldn’t help but feel the lingering envy from the harmless scene in ‘New Moon’, as ridiculous as it made you feel. You were sure if Kun had seen what you’d just done, you’d never be able to live it down.

You knew you wanted that, your own little taste of heaven, even though you knew he was probably busy marking assignments right now.

As if hearing your cry for a distraction, your phone began to ring, picking up the call immediately after reading the caller id.

“Hey,” you huffed, taking in another mouthful of ice-cream.

“How’s life being unemployed?”

You rolled your eyes, “So much for a hello.”

“Seriously, though, how’s the job search been going?” You could hear the sound of a PA announcement in the background, paging for a doctor to go to a blah blah blah ward (you couldn’t hear very well).

“Like shit,” you quipped, a chuckle sounding over the phone.

“That bad? You had an interview this morning, right? How was that?”

“I mean it, Kun, it was horrible. I’ve never felt so humiliated in my life.”

“Why? Wasn’t this one of the centres that your friend Johnny recommended?” Kun pulled his phone away from his ear, searching your chat for the name of the preschool you interviewed for, swiveling around in his chair to type the name into his search engine.

You recounted the horror story to Kun, your blood boiling just at the thought of the principal’s spitefulness.

“Word travels fast, Y/N. I’m afraid you’re not an employee that fits our centre’s… ethics.”

“Word travels fast? What are you talking about?” you asked her, the woman giving you a sympathetic look.

Lowering her volume, she’d given you a knowing look, “Your relationship with that professor? I mean I can totally understand, he’s a very eligible bachelor but what a workplace nightmare, am I right?”

“So… you’re not offering me the job because of a rumour?”

“I mean, we both know it wasn’t a rumour,” she snickered, “But, no no. Not because of that. I’m not offering you the job because I think you’d do better at another centre, dear. You know, one that finds you to be a better fit with the school image.”

Kun let out a low whistle, bringing his thermos to his lips and taking a long sip.

“Yikes,” he clicked through the images of the website, leaning back in his chair, “I mean, looking at the website now, it... doesn’t even look that nice.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Kun, the place is huge and their funding is insane.”

“Okay, fine, I lied, the place looks pretty cool.”

You groaned, slumping down onto your sofa, kicking your blanket up so you could yank it over yourself.

“Honestly, it’s been more than a month, I can’t believe they haven’t gotten over it yet.”

Kun sucked in a sharp breath, “I mean, I can’t imagine they hear about something like that everyday.”

“Not helping, Kun.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, “But, whatever. Honestly, I’m really considering just going overseas for my masters.”

You heard Kun hum.

“I mean, why not? Pretty sure you can check out their scholarships, see if you can apply for the January intake.”

“Yeah, why not, right? I don’t know, maybe I’ll check later tonight. You’re coming for mass later, right?”

Kun let out an affirmative hum, “Remember to mentally prepare yourself, I’m also pretty sure your mom’s not finished with her list of comments about Taeyong.”

Scoffing, you wanted to deny it but eventually grunted in defeat, knowing Kun was right.

“Fine, anyway, I should probably go get ready now.”

“Yeah, go, go. I’ll pick you up at four thirty.”

===

You’d taken a seat next to Kun for dinner, eyeing your mother curiously after she’d flashed you a warm smile.

Lowering your volume and turning to Kun, you muttered, “You saw that, right?”

Kun stifled his giggles, “Pretty sure it’s because she saw you crying when you were praying just now. Heard her telling my mom she thinks the Lord helped you to reach an epiphany about the problems in your ‘doomed-to-begin-with’relationship.”

“Seriously?”

Kun nodded, reaching over for the bottle of wine to pour some for himself and for you.

Sighing, you brought your glass to your lips.

“Whatever, as long as she’s happy,” you murmured.

Your mom wasn’t entirely wrong, you were moved, definitely, but not over what she was thinking. You were desperate,frankly, asking the God you were so used to hearing about to help you in your pathetic state of mind, to be so kind as to send down some guardian angels to guide you as you tried so hard to enter your next stage of life. You didn’t think it would happen so easily, but you figured it was worth a shot.

You were currently in the stage of grief where love songs were the last thing you’d wanted to listen to and you avoided taking the train at certain times of the day so you wouldn’t be surrounded by couples on their way to work and school. You guessed it was easier now that you were unemployed, you’d only left the house for groceries or regular appointments with people anyway.

And it seemed, this stage of grief was lasting awfully long.

“It’s so nice to have us all here like this, isn’t it?” your mom had commented, the brightest of smiles on her face as you mustered a patronising smile.

Kun’s mom nodded, humming in agreement, “Yeah, yeah, definitely! Y/N, you’ve been looking a lot better these days, as well.”

Kun’s eyebrows raised while you managed a huff of laughter.

“Really?” I feel like absolute shit, though.

“Yes, you do! How’s the job search been going?”

You hummed, Kun interjecting smoothly, “Actually, Y/N’s been considering going overseas for her masters… on a scholarship,” he added pointedly, knowing your mom would be elated to hear that.

“I mean, yeah, I haven’t applied yet but yeah I was thinking of that,” you glanced at your dad, gauging his reaction.

He’d simply given you a nod, the smallest of smiles on his face.

“That’s great news, honey. Where are you planning on going?”

“I mean, I have a few options, I’m really just researching right now. But I’ll definitely update you guys, don’t worry.”

Your mother had simply smiled, her tone pointed and laced with satisfaction.

“Things are falling into place now, don’t you think, honey? It was a blessing for you to break up with that boy, he was practically promising you the moon.”

Kun’s mother was nice enough to defend you, murmuring something about the blessing to have experienced love in that way, but your jaw clenched, nodding slowly, your mom managing to successfully turn your mood sour with minimal effort. 

You’d managed to keep your mouth shut for the rest of the dinner, though her words had lingered in your mind bitterly, not knowing if the metallic taste in your mouth was imagined or whether you’d actually bit the skin of your lip too hard.

Once the dinner was over, your dad and Kun’s parents had gone to the living room with their drinks, Kun announcing that he was going to the washroom, leaving you and your mom alone in the kitchen.

Picking up the dishes, you’d put them together a little too harshly, your mom sending you a glare.

“Don’t destroy my plates.”

You couldn’t bite your tongue fast enough this time.

“Promising me the moon, mom? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you spoke, exasperated.

Unfazed, your mom had carried on washing the dishes. 

“Language,” she’d warned.

“Whatever you think Taeyong said, he didn’t ‘promise me the moon’ if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She’d huffed, letting the dish go in the sink and hearing it thud, turning to look at you, her gaze full of contempt.

“He didn’t? Are you sure? All of that marriage talk, that ‘we can be one happy family’ bullshit he fed you. That was promising you the moon. Look at you, honey. One simple comment about him and that’s all it took for your mood to go sour for the entire evening. Looks like he’s got a bigger hold on you than I thought,” she shrugged.

You didn’t have the energy for this, frankly.

Neither did Taeyong.

Johnny had been friends with Taeyong for almost a decade now, and in that time, he knew that Taeyong had grown to be someone who was always very controlled in his behaviour. He did things intentionally. Every decision he’d made, he was sure of it, confident in his decisions.

So, as a friend, it was natural for him to feel concerned for Taeyong.

Taeyong had seemed as though he’d reverted back to how life was before he’d met you, going about his usual routine with Byul, coming back home and convincing himself that his bed had always felt this empty. Forcing himself to Byul’s bedroom door fully instead of leaving it a crack open like how you always did.

So now, in Johnny’s apartment, the first time Taeyong had managed to find a hole in his schedule to meet Johnny for drinks, as Taeyong listened to Johnny talking about his girlfriend, he had only one thought on his mind, and that was that he didn’t have the energy to put on a brave front any longer.

“But yeah, anyway, I was- Hey, dude, might wanna slow down,” Johnny warned, the way Taeyong was downing his drink making Johnny feel like he was back in college again, well other than the fact that Taeyong’s alcohol tolerance was nowhere close to what it was in college, and if he kept it up he’d be passed out in half an hour.

Taeyong had simply grunted, setting his bottle of soju down on the table, supporting his head with his hand on the coffee table, turning his gaze to the television that was playing ‘500 days of summer’, which of course, had made Taeyong turn his head to face the other direction just as quickly.

Taeyong heard the television louder than anything, even Johnny.

“Someday, someone will walk into your life and make you realise why it never worked out with anyone else.”

Taeyong didn’t have the energy for this.

Turning his head so his forehead rested on his arm, he felt everything hit him without a warning. His eyes scrunching shut as his mouth felt dry and his eyes had begun to well up with tears that stung him, his hand shaking as he felt his heart pounding as though it were right next to his ear.

“Can you change the channel, please?” Taeyong mustered weakly, a small sniffle leaving him as Johnny heard the shaky sigh that had left his friend.

Turning to the television, Johnny realised what was happening. Taeyong’s month-worth of bottled up emotions was finally making itself known.

“You shouldn’t bottle it up, you know? Let it out,” Johnny frowned, “If you’re mad, say you’re mad. If you miss her, say you miss her. If you feel like shit, say you feel like shit.”

Taeyong was crying even harder now, his shoulders shaking as his pitiful sobs had left him.

“Fine,” he lifted his head off the table, sniffing.

“I miss her, I’m upset at her for telling you about the things her the other teachers and parents said to her for dating me because you told me and now i’m pissed at them for hurting her,” the words felt foreign on his lips, having thought about them endlessly but never voicing it out until now, “I’m frustrated because Byul asked me where she went the other day and I told her Y/N went on a holiday. I hate that she was right about Byul needing time away from her...” Taeyong stopped himself short, his chest feeling too tight to continue, letting his vision blur as he stared straight at the colours that made up Johnny’s figure.

“But God,” he groaned, his forehead creasing as he frowned, “I miss the feeling of sleeping in on a weekend and I would wake up to the feeling of her hands in my hair and just see her using her laptop on my bed doing work even though she wanted to sleep in but she couldn’t because she was used to waking up early. I miss… the way she would hold me and ask me how my day was, distracting her when she was doing work on the sofa, the look on her face when I ask her for another kiss and—” Taeyong choked on his breath, his hands coming up to rub at his eyes harshly.

“How she was always so afraid that she would lose the good things she had going for her, but she never let me feel any of that fear. No, all I felt was… was love.”

Taeyong frowned, swallowing even though it made his throat sting, wiping his tears to look at Johnny whose expression was thoughtful.

“Maybe if you guys met when you were a little older,” Johnny murmured, making Taeyong sigh, remembering the words you’d told him before he’d left your house.

When Taeyong hadn’t answered, Johnny continued.

“I don’t know, like, maybe it’s like what they say… about how sometimes you meet the right person but… at the wrong time.”

Taeyong took a deep breath and let it out. Like Johnny said, Taeyong was always sure of his decisions. And call him crazy, but he was sure that you were the person he’d wanted to build the rest of his life with.

“I told her this before, and I guess it would be good for you to hear now,” Johnny began, Taeyong’s sniffles filling the silence of the room, only realising now that Johnny had turned the television off.

“I told her that what the both of you had was too good to give up… and if the both of you haven’t given up yet… who knows how things will work out in the future, you know, in the name of love.”

Taeyong would’ve thought he’d be sick of hearing that phrase, especially at a time like this, but strangely, as Johnny had implied, it comforted him to some extent.

Nodding slowly, Taeyong picked his drink up, holding it out as Johnny had smiled, picking up his can of beer to clink it against Taeyong’s glass.

A deep sigh left Taeyong, glancing down at the ring on his index finger, giving Johnny a small nod of acceptance.  

“Till then, I guess.”  

===

Perhaps, time had healed the both of you more than you’d expected.

For Taeyong, he’d gone back to his previous ‘my first priority is Byul’ mindset, frankly, not giving himself any room to worry about anything else other than whether Byul was happy and healthy.

He’d found out through Johnny that you were going overseas for your masters (or more accurately, that you were already overseas and starting your academic term), hoping that you were alright- knowing how scared you must’ve been to jump into a new environment like that, which surprised him even more that you’d done it.

On the bright side, Taeyong had been taking care of himself more (which had definitely gained him more attention from his current cohort of students), exploring his creative freedom through painting and mindless doodling whenever things got too quiet while Byul was napping and the sofa felt too big.

You, on the other hand, had been trying to adjust to your new schedule, new environment and new people you met. It was alright, you guessed, nothing you couldn’t handle, you always told yourself.

But of course, everyone had bad days, days where nothing seemed to be going right and even the rough feeling of your deskchair’s armrest was enough to make you frustrated. Days like today.

On the phone with one of the friends you’d made in school, a girl in your class, you took in a deep calming breath as you asked her what she was calling you for.

“Hey, I think I used your phone to record the class last week, do you mind sending me the audio?”

You fished your car keys from your bag, preparing yourself for the long drive you had back to campus from your part-time job, cursing how far the school was from the heart of the city.

“Yeah, sure, just give me a minute, I’ll send it to you now.”

Hanging up the phone call, you shifted in the front seat of your car, you’d scrolled through your apps, pulling up voice memos. One was titled ‘Voice Recording 2’ but the other was weird, titled ‘July 1st’. Clicking the one titled ‘Voice Recording 2’ first, you heard your professor’s voice sound through the sound system of your car, quickly sending that one out to your classmate.

Maybe the other one was recorded by accident, you figured. Your curiosity got the better of you as you clicked on the recording, immediate regret filled you at the sound of Taeyong’s hushed laughter.

“Hi to you whenever you find this recording,” Taeyong’s voice had filled your rental car and you felt frozen in place, “In case you didn’t realise from the title, it’s my birthday when i’m recording this… we just had dinner at the beach, and you’re asleep in the car next to me because the drive was too long and too comfy,” a huff of laughter followed.

“You look very cute when you sleep so deeply like this, I don’t know if that sound you’re making counts as snoring… but I don’t get to see that side of you often because you always wake up before I do. Anyway, I just wanted to leave this here, I hope you find it eventually so you can hear me tell you that I’m very thankful for everything you’ve been to me so far, and... “ he giggled, “this is a little embarrassing to be saying like this but… I love you.”

“When you do find this recording, though, congratulations! Because you get to redeem a kiss from me, not that you ever need to ask, of course. If you’re finding this on a good day, I’m happy for you, and if you find this on a bad day, I hope it cheers you up… even if it’s just by a little bit.”

You heard him sigh, hearing shuffling over the recording, “Alright, I’m gonna wake you up now, so goodbye future Y/N,” he giggled, “Don’t ever let Johnny listen to this, by the way, he’d totally make fun of me… I hope you know how much of a gift you are to me. Bye for now.”

You don’t know when you had started crying, your hands clutching the steering wheel tightly as you let the recording replay itself, your heart feeling weaker than ever as you sat in your car, almost being able to imagine Taeyong sitting in the driver's seat of his car and recording this.

How cruel it was, for you to have only found this now, yet how thankful you were for it, for the love that you were hiding deep in your heart had simply glowed.

===

“Yo, dude you look good!” Mark let out a drawn-out sound of admiration when he’d shown up at the café he was supposed to meet Taeyong and Donghyuck at.

Pressing his lips into a firm line, Taeyong dismissed Mark and Donghyuck’s endless praises, scanning the menu as a distraction even though they’d already had their drinks on the table.

“Where’s Johnny? He said he couldn’t come, right?” Mark asked, earning a nod from Donghyuck.

“Yeah, said he had lunch with his girlfriend’s parents or something,” Donghyuck filled Mark in on what Taeyong had said before he arrived.  

Shifting in his seat to cross his legs, Taeyong smiled, “So, how’ve you guys been? You applied for a job right?”

Donghyuck nodded, “Yeah, but I'm waiting to start my masters. But I’m interning at the police force right now, one of their divisions that look after the welfare of the force and stuff.”

An impressed hum leaving him, Taeyong nodded, “Nice, nice. Mark, you're doing social work, right?”

Mark grinned, nodding.

“How are you guys liking it so far?”

Taeyong had let them each tell him about their jobs, how they were doing, Mark slipping in something about one of his colleagues seeing Taeyong on his instagram and begging for his contact.

Taeyong giggled, “You’re joking, right?”

Donghyuck’s lips parted, exasperated.

“Why do you always act like we’re clowning you when we tell you people think you’re hot, you must’ve heard it a thousand times already.”

“Yeah, dude, seriously, you’re probably considered one of those eligible bachelors or something,” Mark added, Donghyuck pretending to hurl.

Taeyong huffed, dismissing the boys with a wave, “I’m sorry, I’ll have to politely decline.”

Bringing his drink up to his lips to take a sip, shaking it in his hand to stir the drink, Donghyuck let out an exasperated groan.

“You’re really not gonna date anymore?”

Nudging him harshly, Mark glared at Donghyuck, lowering his voice to murmur, “Dude, are you kidding? Everyone knows he’s still in love with Y/N.”

“You know I can still hear you, right?” Taeyong cut in, earning a sheepish smile from Mark, “But to answer your question, no I don’t plan on dating… Just, isn’t a priority for me.”

Donghyuck did a once-over at Taeyong’s getup. He was wearing a black cardigan buttoned up and revealing a bit of his chest, together with a pair of jeans, a pretty silver ring on his finger and small silver rings adorning his ears. He looked good, it was just a shame that he was too attractive for his own good.

Sighing, Donghyuck shook his head, “I pity the girls who have yet to hear that.”

Mark snickered at the way Taeyong’s lips had parted, rushing to defend himself.

“C’mon, you say that like there’s a lot of them.” Taeyong adjusted his top, oblivious to the girl who wouldn’t stop staring at him as she took a seat next to their table, frustrating Donghyuck with his nonchalance.

Mark sucked in a sharp breath, “Well, that’s because there is. Do you have any idea how many people would be showing up with love offerings if they didn’t know about Y/N?”

Taeyong giggled, seemingly flattered by the idea that people found him attractive,“Love offerings.”

Pausing, realisation had struck Taeyong, he frowned at Donghyuck, “they know about Y/N?”

Donghyuck snickered, “‘they know?’” he imitated Taeyong’s tone, “of course they know, they’re not blind, you know? God, you’re like the most oblivious person i’ve ever met, other than Mark—”

“Wait, what?”

“— I mean, they know you guys broke up too, so they think you’re available. But obviously they don’t know you’re like this.”

Taeyong was amused to say the least, nodding along with Donghyuck, “Like what, exactly?”

“A lovestruck fool.”

Mark hummed, raising a hand to speak, “In Taeyong’s defence, Y/N was really nice. We follow each other on Instagram and she still asks me how I’m doing every now and then.”

Donghyuck narrowed his eyes at Mark, “You sure she’s not just doing that to get updates on him?” Donghyuck gestured to Taeyong.

“Again, I’m right here,” Taeyong deadpanned.

“I mean, no offence dude,” Mark turned to Taeyong, “but we don’t actually talk about him, like… okay look.”

Fishing out his phone, Mark opened his Instagram app, going to his direct messages to show his chat with you.

Taeyong didn’t bother hiding his curiosity, leaning over to read the chat on Mark’s phone laid out on the table between him and Donghyuck.

“Oh, that’s lame,” Donghyuck remarked.

Ignoring Donghyuck’s comment, Taeyong scrolled down the chat, a scoff leaving him as he looked at Mark.

“You asked her for help with your little cousin? Dude, why didn’t you just ask me? I have a child,” Taeyong was almost offended, but he had to admit, he found it nice that Mark could depend on you as an older sister of sorts.

“I don’t know, I was panicking when that happened, she was the first person I thought of that would have the answers.”

“Fine, forgiven,” Taeyong huffed, Mark taking the phone away just as Taeyong saw the chat mentioning something about when she would finish her masters.

“But, since you follow her on Instagram, does she seem like she’s dating anyone new?” Donghyuck prodded.

Mark hummed, shaking his head, “Nope. I don’t think she meets people a lot… the only guy I think she’s close to is this guy Kun when he video calls her. But I’m pretty sure Kun’s fruity…”

Her hospital friend.

Taeyong wasn’t jealous, of course. Taeyong was lying, of course.

Donghyuck let out a cackle, clapping his hands together, “Well, there you have it, then. She’s just as hopeless as you. You guys are absolutely infuriating.”

Mark couldn’t help himself from giggling as well, his expression turning more serious as he looked at Taeyong.

“But for real, though, you guys haven’t talked at all since… then?”

Taeyong nodded.

“Not a single word. I don’t actually hear anything about how she’s doing… I mean, other than what you guys are telling me now,” he brought his drink up to his lips, the bitter taste of his coffee snapping him out of his curiosity, “I guess… I guess I preferred to keep it that way, you know, so I could focus more on what I had to do.”

“...Which is?” Donghyuck furrowed his eyebrows.

“Take care of Byul,” Taeyong mustered a nonchalant shrug, “work.”

Donghyuck grunted, sighing exasperatedly, “Forgot you have no social life.”

“I do have a social life, for your information.”

Mark added smoothly, “Byul’s playdates don’t count.”

Taeyong couldn’t help but wonder whether Donghyuck was right, whether your life was similar to his in the sense where you didn’t give yourself much time for getting out there and dating because you were so busy, or because you just simply didn’t want to.

If anyone had asked you that question, you were sure you would’ve laughed. At this point, where you were in the deep end of research for your thesis, the most socialisation you were getting at this point were the all-too-frequent phone calls from your mom.

“Hi, honey, how are things?”

You hummed, letting your eyes shut and your head rest against the neck pillow you’d clipped around the headrest of your chair. “The same, honestly, nothing much has changed here.”

“Kun said he spoke to you that day... you’ve been contacting him quite a bit these days, haven’t you? Are you sure you’re not seeing him, honey?”

You snorted, knowing very well that Kun was not interested in the slightest bit.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly a fan of long-distance relationships. That, and I don’t like Kun that way.”

“M’sure you could use the support, you know, since you’re so far away from home.”

“He can still be my friend and support me, you know,” you told her pointedly.

“Anyway, I’m fine. Things are a little stressful I guess, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary… I’m almost in the last stretch, anyway,” you yawned, enjoying the little bit of shut-eye you were getting.

“Don’t you feel glad you made the decision to leave? Now you can focus fully on your work with nothing here to distract you.”

You forced your eyes open, glaring at your phone. She always couldn’t leave Taeyong out of it, could she?

“Other than you, of course,” you quipped back, hearing her scoff.

“Don’t be rude.”

“Am I wrong?” You hummed when you were met with silence. “Anyway, mom, sorry. I appreciate your concern, but I'm really fine here. I’m just… doing what I need to do.”

It wasn’t like you were lying, you did feel a lot better than you did months before. You were taking care of yourself, you were healing, you were making progress, slowly but surely. You honestly just wanted to finish your masters as quickly as possible and go back home.

You heard your phone beep, signalling another incoming call, a smile on your face when you saw that it was Johnny asking to facetime.

“Sorry, mom, I have to go. Talk to you next time.”

“Alright, honey, bye.”

Hanging up the call, you’d answered Johnny, laughing when you’d heard the long drawn out ‘hey’ he’d practically yelled into the phone.

“Well, you sure sound happy,” you spun yourself slowly in your swivel chair.

“Because I am. I have good news.”

“What happened?”

“Guess.”

You hummed, Johnny seeming too excited to entertain you for long.

“Nevermind, you’re taking too long to guess. She said yes!”

It took you a few seconds to process what he said. Who was ‘she’? What was she saying yes to? What good news was Johnny referring to that required a ‘yes’?

And then it hit you. He finally proposed.

Straightening up in your seat, you’d accidentally kneed your desk, pain shooting through you as you yelped, clutching your knee, “Oh my God, congrats! Good for you, you lucky bitch!”

His chuckles resounded through your dorm room.

“I know! I mean, I expected it but that doesn’t make it any less exciting,” he gushed.

“So, what’s the plan now?” You could imagine it already, Johnny was definitely the type to have a destination wedding, willing to pull out all the stops to make it as dreamlike as possible.

You could practically hear Johnny’s grin.

“Well, we wanted to have a destination wedding—”

“Called it,” you quipped, Johnny’s laughter bubbling out of him.

“—of course, right? Anyway, get this. We were thinking of... Italy.”

You gasped, “You’re shitting me…”

“I wish I was, even saying it feels like a dream. I told you, right? How her family has some connections there and they’re so excited about the wedding they said they’d sponsor the accommodation and everything.”

Hearing Johnny ramble on and on about the location, you couldn’t help but let your excitement take over you, the prospect of going back home becoming something you looked forward to even more with the knowledge that it would mean you were closer to attending Johnny’s wedding.

“This is the best news I’ve heard in a long time, I’m really happy for you,” you sighed, breathless with excitement.

“Thanks, it means a lot to me that you get to share this experience with me… even until now I still feel like I’m dreaming.”

You really did feel happy for Johnny, but you couldn’t deny the part of you that felt almost… as if you were longing for something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was because it was almost two years since you’d broken up with Taeyong, you felt different from back then.

Maybe it was all part of your healing process, but you felt as though nowadays, your first reaction to something good happening wasn’t really to push it away in fear that you would lose it and be met with disappointment. Instead, you embraced it graciously, understanding that it was something to be joyful about, and to relish in it instead of living in constant fear of its disappearance. So that when it really was time for it to leave, you could bid it goodbye with no regrets.

A part of you wanted to test your theory, but you dismissed the temptation quickly. You figured you’d cross that bridge when you got there.

For now, you figured you would just be thankful for what you had, the little blessings you were presented with everyday that kept you thankful even when there seemed like there was nothing to be thankful for. Perhaps this was your previous prayers being answered. You’d asked for God to send down his angels to guide you along the way, so you figured the least you could do was be patient for them to show up.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for them to show up in the form of Taeyong’s mom.

The soft clacking of the wheels of your luggage on the marble tiled floors echoed behind you, the scent of the airport being so unmistakably home-like that it’d brought you immense comfort. Tugging your coat closer to yourself, you’d sighed, letting your gaze wander to observe the people around you as you made your way to the taxi stand.

You saw a couple reuniting to your right, exchanging a passionate kiss without even bothering to wait for their partner to walk past the barrier railing.

A few paces away from them were a mother and her three children, watching a specific luggage collection belt in anticipation as they waited for their family member to come into view, the youngest of the children erupting in squeals as they spotted who you assumed was their father waving at them from the belt.

On the other side, you saw an elderly woman with the happiest of smiles on her face as a young woman had jogged towards her with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, hugging the elderly woman tightly.

Pressing your lips into a firm line, you kept walking, keeping your gaze straight even as you passed a young man carrying his toddler, pointing towards the glass as he cooed, “Look! There’s mommy!”

Figuring you didn’t have any food at home, you’d stopped by the supermarket to get your groceries before heading home, lugging your bags along with you for a little longer, telling yourself you weren’t that tired and that you could afford to spare half an hour longer for you to get your groceries and travel home.

You had to admit, it took you a while to get used to the new layout of the supermarket, seeming completely different from how it used to be. So it was safe to say that you had to waste a little more time walking past the same aisle more than twice before you found what you were looking for in that very aisle.

Standing in the bread aisle, you were seriously contemplating whether or not to purchase a bag of bagels when you were interrupted.

“Sorry, excuse me,” the woman had spoken, a soft and gentle voice. Turning to quickly remove your luggage from her way, you’d glanced at the woman, recognition in the woman’s gaze.

“Y/N?” she smiled, letting go of the handles of her trolley almost immediately.

Your eyes widened, greeting Taeyong’s mom quickly. She’d surprised you when she’d made her way to where you were standing, enveloping you in a hug, something about her gesture making you feel warm, and very loved, wondering for a moment if this was how those people at the airport had felt.

“Oh dear, I’ve missed you! You look great, dear, even more beautiful than I remember,” she smiled, “Did you just come back?”

You nodded, “I missed you too. You look even more beautiful than I do, aunty. But yeah, I just came from the airport actually.”

She let out a dismayed sound, “Oh, gosh, why didn’t you say anything!”

You huffed, not being able to keep from smiling, “Surprise?”

Walking with her, she’d glanced at what was in your basket. 

“I’m finished with my shopping, do you have any more things you need to get? I can give you a ride back when you’re done.”

You gasped, shaking your head, “No, no please, I mean, I’m done but it’s fine, I don’t want to trouble you or anything—”

“Please, darling, I insist.”

You shut your mouth quickly, nodding, a small smile lingering on your face as you walked with her.

“Are you back temporarily or…”

You shook your head, reaching the self check-out point with her and helping her to bag her groceries.

“Nope, I’d say it’s pretty permanent,” you laughed, hearing her hum.

“Good, good. So, are you going back to work at the college kindergarten?”

You shook your head, frowning slightly, “Taeyong didn’t tell you?”

She gave you a small smile, shaking her head. 

“He… told me about you two breaking up but he didn’t mention anything about the school…”

Before you could explain, her lips parted in realisation, her hand coming up to her mouth, “Oh, gosh, I’m really sorry. I’m making you uncomfortable, aren’t I? I’m so so—”

“No, no, really it’s fine. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s really alright. I mean, you deserve an explanation, I know how abrupt it must’ve felt.”

She nodded, listening patiently to you as you paid for your items.

“I actually… got fired from my old job,” you told her, her frown deepening, “I mean, it was my fault, honestly. They had a strict policy on teachers not being allowed to date a student’s parent and all, and I could see how Byul was affected by my presence in her life… I just… didn’t want to make it worse.”

Done with bagging your groceries, you carried the bags in your hands, helping Taeyong’s mom with some of her bags as well as she led you to the carpark.

Humming thoughtfully, she let out a small sigh, “I can’t imagine it was an easy decision to make.”

You shook your head, “Definitely not… but you know, if it meant that Byul would benefit, that was all the reassurance I needed.”

Nodding, she’d unlocked her car, letting you put your groceries inside her trunk. You helped her to shut the door of her trunk before getting in the front seat.

“So, have you thought about where you want to work next?” she asked after buckling herself into the driver’s seat, earning a sigh from you.

You watched as she pulled out of the lot smoothly, a delicate nature to her actions that were stronger than they looked, her fingers tapping a beat to a silent song on the steering wheel as she drove.

Pursing your lips, you shrugged, “I mean, it’s tough to find one that pays as well as the old one, but I’ve tried interviewing for a few, they… they won’t take me because of... what happened.”

Clucking her tongue in distaste, Taeyong’s mom had huffed, “That’s horrible of them. They didn’t even consider that you were a capable teacher.”

You huffed, “I mean, yeah, it was humiliating if I’m being honest, but… yeah I guess that ruled out most of the places for me.”

Stopping at a traffic light, she turned to you, “You’re still staying at the same apartment, right?”

After receiving a nod from you, she continued, “Actually… I used to work at this kindergarten, it’s a private kindergarten, a nice school. They’re a Catholic school. I had a very nice experience there, the principal is a lovely woman. Maybe you could consider applying for a job there?”

Telling you the name of the school, you’d wasted no time once you were home, your grocery bags haphazardly laid out on your countertop as you rushed to get your computer, sending your resume and cover letter to the preschool.

Still jittery with anticipation after sending out your email, you tried using the time to pack your groceries to calm yourself down.

Figuring the school wouldn’t have gotten back to you so soon, you took a shower, unpacked your things and continued to settle down. Strangely, you’d felt calmer than ever, not anxious like how you were with your previous applications. Maybe that was because you trusted Taeyong’s mom, trusted her opinion. And you had a good feeling about this preschool, better than any of the ones from before.

And it seemed these feelings were justified, because later on when you were winding down in the evening, you heard the chime of your email app, the first line already enough to put a smile on your face.

Thank you for your application, Y/N. We’d love to meet you for an interview tomorrow at…..

You guessed you had your angel to thank for that.

===

And it seemed that your blessings were not over yet, for you received another one in the form of your new co-teacher, a language teacher named Ten.

He’d been an enormous help in getting you acquainted with the centre, filling you in on the children in your class as well as his own little profiling of the teachers in the centre (which, admittedly, was very entertaining).

You were surprised at how well the two of you had clicked, conversation flowing naturally and candidly. Ten was like a breath of fresh air, a little reminder that it was okay for you to make mistakes as you got used to the momentum of working again because he was here to support you.

Introducing you to another senior teacher, Jaehyun, who had been friends with Ten since college, you were surprised at the number of male teachers at this preschool considering your previous one had none. But that's besides the point, what you were getting at was that the three of you had grown rather comfortable with each other overtime, their presence adding to the warmth you’d felt while working here.

Attached to a class of toddlers again, a group of ten two year olds, you were enjoying your work, to say the least. Since it was almost the end of January, you learnt that the classes were already beginning preparations for their Spring concert for their parents.

You enjoyed the way things were run at this centre, the principal living up to Taeyong’s mom’s praises about her. She believed in letting you take charge more as a way to help you integrate yourself into the team, so this week, your new task was serving breakfast, something you never realised you’d missed this much.  

However, as you were carrying the container full of spoons from the lower deck of the trolley to the top deck, you’d felt a sharp pain in your wrist that almost made you drop the container.

You didn’t think you’d have to go through this again. Maybe you should really ask Kun about those steroid injections.

Wincing, you rolled your hand back gently as you stood by the breakfast cart, watching your class happily eating and greeting the children that were arriving at school now.

“What’s for breakfast today?” You looked up to see Ten strolling towards you, temperature gun in his hand, holding it up to your forehead to take your temperature for the fun of it.

“The little buns with the different fillings in them,” you told him, seeing his eyes light up.

“Nice,” he shoved the temperature gun into your hands, fishing a plastic glove from the packet on the trolley and scooping a few chocolate-filled buns into the glove, turning the glove inside out to use it as a bag.

At the sight of your stare, he simply shrugged, “Trust me, the kids could do with a little less chocolate in them.”

Taking the temperature gun back from you, Ten glanced at your hand that was massaging your arm.

“What’s wrong with your hand?”

You shook your head, “Nah, it’s just this thing that’s been bothering me for a while now. I’m trying to remember the massage that Taeyong did for me-”

“Taeyong? Who’s that?” Ten’s voice came out muffled over his mouthful of bread.

You’d cursed mentally, not realising you’d said his name.

“My uh…” you felt as though you were buffering.

“Boyfriend?” he smirked.

“Ex.”

Ten hummed, “Not that I don’t care about your hand, but why’d you break up?”

You thought of a brief way to explain it without needing to go into detail.

“Just… wasn’t the right time for both of us.”

Your words seemed to have struck a chord with Ten, who gestured with his bread towards you, “I hear that.”

Ten took another mouthful of bread, sighing wistfully, “I knew a guy named Taeyong once. We were friends in college. If my sources are correct, his mom used to work as a cook here, but that was before I started working here, obviously.”

You froze. Taeyong’s mom used to work here.

“... Lee Taeyong?” you dared to ask, the way Ten’s eyes had widened making your heart stop.

Nodding, Ten made as if to speak, almost choking on his bread, coughing and patting at his chest before finally swallowing his bread and heaving a loud sigh.

“Oh my God, no fucking way—”

“Ten, there are kids here!” you gasped, smacking his arm with your good hand.

He dismissed you with a shake of his head, “Doesn’t matter, they didn’t hear me. But, dude, your ex is Taeyong?”

You nodded slowly, “I’m confused, is that a good reaction or a bad reaction?”

“Good! Like really good! God, I can’t wait to tell Jaehyun. I mean, sorry about your breakup and whatever but dude, we haven’t heard a word about him since he graduated. It’s been like… what? Seven years?”

“Yeah, I don’t think he kept in contact with any of his college friends… other than Johnny.”

Ten hummed, “Understandable, he was closest to Johnny.”

His gaze darted to you, his expression serious and his hands clutching onto your arms firmly.

“Is he still hot?”

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms as you ignored him. Turning back to look at him after a while and see him still looking at you like that, eliciting a scoff from you.

“... well yeah, he is,” you blurted out quickly, making Ten snicker, finishing the last mouthful of his bread and tossing the glove into the trash can.

“Did you guys date seriously? Or was it just like a… you know,” he let out a whistle, making you gasp.

“I mean, I would think it was pretty serious.”

“How long has it been since you guys broke up?”

You hummed, glancing at the time. It was almost time for you to keep the breakfast cart.

Turning back to Ten, you answered, “About two-ish years?”

Ten sucked in a sharp breath, folding his arms and leaning against the wall, “That’s a long time ago.”

“Whatever, but he… he’s a nice guy.”

Ten hummed in agreement.

“So, have you dated anyone since then? You were saying that day that you went overseas for your masters right? Any… foreign romances?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, “Nope. Haven’t dated anyone since.”

“Wait,” Ten’s lips parted, “Like.. at all?”

You laughed, “What do you think I mean? Of course, I mean at all.”

Ten grimaced, “Well… why not?”

You sighed, rubbing at the flesh at your thumb as you shrugged, letting your gaze monitor your children who were slowly standing up and keeping their bowls into a big bucket at the side of their classroom closest to you.

“Dunno,” you sighed, “just… never really found someone else that I was interested in.”

Poor excuse, you know, but it wasn’t like you could say you didn’t think you were capable of loving anyone as much as you loved Taeyong. Ten would probably laugh in your face.

Ten seemed to have read your mind, giggling, “That, or you’re still hung up over your ex.”

You frowned, glaring at him.

“Am not,” you lied.

Before waiting for his reply, you started pushing the cart to the far end of the preschool near the kitchen so the cook could come and bring it back.

Ten had simply followed behind you, like the little figure on your shoulder telling you things you didn’t want to hear.

“Then fine, tell me what kind of guy you’re into and I’ll hook you up with a blind date.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Ten laughed, grabbing your hand and leading you back to your classroom, sitting you down on one of the tiny chairs.

“Means I really don’t know,” you huffed, laughing at the ridiculous nature of the situation you were in, some of your toddlers laughing at Ten’s animated demeanour.

“Look, it’s gonna sound stupid, but I just want someone that makes me feel secure, that I can be happy with and just… live knowing I love them and am loved by them.”

“I’d love to make fun of you, but I get it. It’s not stupid.”

“Like… you know that one scene in twilight—”

“Are you seriously comparing your love life to a twilight scene?”

“Shut up, just listen. Like, that one scene where Edward is in like… Rome? I don’t know, but whatever, he was trying to get himself killed and he was gonna show himself to the public and Bella runs over and she runs into his arms and the first thing he says is… ‘heaven’. It’s like… as if he thought her in his arms was literally what it would feel like to die and go to heaven.”

Glancing up at Ten, you watched his smile grow, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as he nodded slowly.

“I like that… you want…” he thought hard for another way to express what he interpreted from your rambling, “a love that feels like your own little taste of heaven.”

You nodded. That was exactly it.

Ten hummed, “Okay, we’ll continue this discussion later. Can you sing the songs today? My mouth is kind of dry from all that chocolate.”

===

Kun and you had just finished eating lunch, walking around the mall to use your rare relaxation time before you’d both have to go back to work, unconsciously walking towards a baby and parenting items store.

“I mean, now that you’re back home, have you seen him since?” Kun asked, earning a shake of the head from you.

“I don’t know, a part of me is kind of hoping that I don’t see him, but… I kind of wish I did… you know, coincidentally bump into him somewhere.”

Kun laughed, shaking his head, “Honestly, the more I hear you talk about him the more I don’t understand why you guys broke up.”

You huffed, your hand reaching out to grab one of the soft-toy bunnies on display, your fingers smoothing over the lovely texture of the bunny, almost thinking it would be a good present for Byul.

Drawing yourself back to your reality, you clicked your tongue in annoyance.

“I told you a million times already, it was for Byul’s sake.”

Kun rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, congratulations. You think Byul’s gonna thank you for that?” Kun took the bunny from your hands, using his other hand to grasp the bunny by its arms, flailing it around, “‘Wow, thanks Teacher Y/N, I love knowing that I was the reason behind my dad’s failed love life’.”

Reaching a hand out to hit him, you winced at the pain that had followed.

“See? Karma,” Kun tossed the bunny back on the display, making you glare at him, clutching your wrist in pain.

“It actually hurts, you know.”

Kun nodded, “Yeah, that’s why I brought you here—”

“We literally walked here together.”

“—I wanted to see if they sold this paraffin wax machine thing that you could use for your wrist.”

You let out a disgruntled sound, “Whatever that is, it sounds like it costs a bomb.”

Kun dismissed your worries with a wave, leading you to the shelf that had various boxes of contraptions, his gaze landing on the very one he was just talking about.

“Great, it’s here.”

Your lips parted, glancing between the picture of the machine on the box and Kun.

“Looks complicated.”

Kun opened his mouth to speak but shook his head, “Forget it, if I tell you now, you won’t remember it by the evening, I’ll just send you a video tutorial.”

Huffing, you didn’t bother fighting with Kun to pay for the machine, figuring you could just repay him another time with something else, but you were thankful nonetheless for Kun’s generosity.

Walking out of the store, Kun helped you to carry the wax machine, gesturing to the ice cream shop nearby, “Wanna get ice cream?”

Nodding, you felt your phone buzz with a text.

Ten 1:10pm -image attached- 1:10pm -what do you think about him? his name is Baekhyun, he’s only 8 years older, rly funny, really smart even though he has himbo energy 1:10pm - he has his own fashion brand n all that shit-

“Who’s that?” Kun asked, earning a shake of the head from you.

“Nah, nothing, it’s just my co-worker Ten, he’s been trying to set me up on a blind date… keeps saying I need to get back into the dating scene and see how I feel.”

Kun hummed, “I mean, you are turning twenty-five this year.”

You grimaced, “Yeah, yeah I get it, time is ticking,” your tone was more resigned than anything, making Kun laugh.

“I have a colleague you could try going on a date with, he’s like… a senior resident now so he’s pretty busy but I guess it could sort of work since you’re busy a lot too.”

You shrugged, “I mean, I’m open to trying but I don’t necessarily have very high hopes.”

And it seems your low hopes were more or less proven correct.

The date was nothing short of a nightmare.

Sure, he was good-looking, and you let it slide when he’d asked you to foot the bill for lunch. But afterwards, he’d brought you to the flower garden you’d gone to with Taeyong and Byul, the difference being that he’d complained about the garden not being properly decorated the entire time, complained of how cold it was outdoors and how gross the pond looked.

If that wasn’t enough, the conversation was dismal as well. He’d dropped the ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’ line not more than five minutes into the date, and when he’d asked you what your plans for the future was, he’d visibly grimaced when you mentioned that you’d like to find someone you loved and get married and start a family.

“Oh, no it’s just that I’m not really looking for anything serious.” He had explained.

Not to mention, his first question after you told him you worked as a preschool teacher was: ‘did you really need to get a masters for that?’

Upset from the horrid date, you’d let him leave first since he was so eager to get back to his apartment to watch the baseball game playing on television tonight.

Figuring you’d wanted to enjoy the ambience of the park a little longer, you walked around aimlessly, not thinking much of where you were going and simply letting your legs lead you wherever your subconscious wanted to go.

You weren’t exactly sure what to feel when you’d ended up at the other side of the large pond, standing in front of the many rock stacks, your gaze searching for the little splash of paint on one of the rocks.

True enough, you’d spotted it, but it was different this time.

The last time you’d seen it, there had only been 4 rocks stacked up. This time, there was an additional rock stacked on top.

You wondered what he wished for.

The cherry on top was that your date hadn’t offered to send you home even though he lived just in the next street from you, which was why you were currently on a bus squeezing between the college students and working adults that were on their way home.

Getting an incoming call from Kun, you’d sighed.

“What?” you answered.

“I just saw your text rant, I’m guessing the resident is a no-go?”

You groaned, “I said I wanted heaven, Kun. That date was straight out of hell.”

The sound of Kun’s laughter had only served to mock you.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

Letting out a hesitant hum, Kun fought to stop his laughter.

“I swear it wasn’t on purpose, I wasn’t trying to sabotage your date or anything.”

You huffed, “Whatever, if this is what I'm gonna encounter in the ‘dating scene’ now, I don’t want it.”

Kun huffed, “Okay, I’d love to hear more, but I gotta go, talk to you later.”

“Fine, bye.”

“Bye,” Kun had hung up, leaving you to shove your phone into your bag, sighing as you rolled your shoulders back, watching the people on the bus stop come onto the bus and fill the space more.

One of them stood out in particular, though. A boy with a bright red cap on his head, headphones covering his ears, black shirt and khaki pants that reminded you of the outfit you remembered seeing Mark wear in his instagram post (did all young people dress like this these days?), laptop in hand and a black backpack on his shoulders. Watching the boy make his way to the standing area right in front of where you were seated, you almost flinched when the boy looked up abruptly, turning to you.

Eyes widening, you couldn’t help the smile on your face from turning into a grin, the boy mirroring your expression.

“Y/N!” he beamed, removing his headphones and hanging them around his neck.

“Good to see you, dude!” he gushed, stumbling slightly when the bus had jerked, holding onto the railing between the both of you.

“How’s things been? How long have you been back?” he asked.

“Almost a month? I’ve been pretty good, actually, adjusting into my new job,” you told him, earning a delighted hum from him.

“Nice, nice,” he hummed, “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Yeah, I do feel a lot better now. Are you still doing social work?”

Mark nodded, “Yeah, I’m just coming from work actually. You too?” he glanced at his watch, “It’s pretty late.”

Shaking your head, you sighed at the dreadful memory of your day’s events.

“Nope, just came back from a date actually.”

“Date?”

Mark’s lips parted. Maybe he was a little too confident when he told Taeyong you weren’t dating. 

Only noticing your get-up now, Mark found that you were dressed up a little more today, a change from the usual attire you wore to work.

“Bad date,” you corrected.

Mark sucked in a sharp breath, trying his best to hide how relieved he felt, though he wasn’t doing very well in containing the way he’d visibly relaxed.

“Yikes,” he let out a low whistle, making you shrug.

“It’s fine, I’m not really sure if I’m ready for all that, anyway.”

“Really?” Mark didn’t mean to sound so happy about that, he just couldn’t help it, he was hoping that Johnny was right about you and Taeyong finding your way back to each other again.

You shrugged, “Yeah, maybe it’s for the better, you know. Gives me more time to focus on my job.”

Humming, Mark smiled.

“Does Johnny know you’re back?”

Your eyebrows raised, nodding, “Yeah, he does! I’m actually supposed to meet him tomorrow so he can pass me the invite for his wedding and stuff.”

“Cool, cool,” Mark glanced out of the window, a disappointed sound leaving him, “Shit, I didn’t think the bus would be that fast. I’ve got to go now, see you around?”

Waving, you smiled.

“See you around, Mark.”

It felt good, seeing Mark again. Somehow, it reminded you of how much things have changed over the years, but at the same time, there was the same familiarity of your youth you found in people like him.

Slowly but surely, you guessed. You knew you didn’t have the courage to actually go out and find Taeyong, but you knew that there would be no going back if you’d met him again. Especially if he was just as respectful, just as kind, just as affectionate, just as unashamed with his love.

Just as much the little bit of heaven you were longing for.

===

“Wait, Ten? Ten as in… lots of piercings, kind of looks like a cat, tattoos Ten?”

You nodded, “Him and Jung Jaehyun, they’re your friends right?”

Johnny’s eyes widened, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes narrowed, sipping his smoothie from his straw extra slowly.

“Okay, on one hand, they’re very nice people. But on the other hand, they’re kind of questionable so I’m kind of curious how you know them.”

You huffed, “Well, remember I told you I’ve been working at this Catholic preschool? They’re working there too.”

Realisation flickered in Johnny’s eyes, his lips parting, “Ohh, you’re working at that preschool. I kept thinking you were applying for the one further uptown.”

You shook your head.

Johnny was still processing his newfound information, ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s leaving his lips, as he nodded slowly.

“I didn’t know you applied there, I thought you said you wanted to work in a government-subsidised one?”

You shrugged, “I mean, that was what I wanted, but after I kept getting rejected I was pretty desperate, and Taeyong’s mom told me about this one so I figured why not, you know? But I don’t regret it, I’m having a lot more fun at this school.”

“Taeyong’s mom? You still keep in contact with her?”

You shook your head, “No, I just bumped into her when I came back, but it was nice… to feel like she still cared about how I was doing.”

Johnny leaned back in his seat, looking at you with a hint of knowingness to his gaze.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

Your tongue peeked out just slightly from your lips before you’d taken your lip between your teeth and let it go, pursing them and pressing them into a firm line.

“He was never mine to keep,” you turned your head, looking elsewhere as you pretended to be fascinated with the frame of the painting on the wall, “you and I both know that.”

Johnny knew you well enough to know what you were doing right now.

“Do you really, though?” he prompted, leaning forward just slightly even though you were desperately avoiding his eyes.

You nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“It’s a small world, Y/N,” he began, adjusting his necklace, “you can’t avoid him forever. What are you gonna do if you see him again?”

You huffed, finally meeting his gaze and keeping your stare as strong as you could.

“Don’t ask me questions I haven’t figured out the answers to.”

Rolling his eyes, Johnny gave you a sarcastic smile, “what a great teacher you are, is that what you tell your kids too?”

“Shut up, Johnny. It’s your fault for asking me a stupid question. What do you think?” your tone was exasperated, “of course I miss him.”

“Good, ‘cause he and Byul miss you too.”

“What does—” you stopped yourself short, knowing exactly why he’d chosen to mention Byul.

“I hate you,” you told him, annoyed that he’d put the thought in your head.

Johnny had simply smiled, giving you an innocent shrug.

“You’ll thank me later, trust me. It’s like I said, what exists between the two of you is… something you both need.”

You felt something within your heart begin to surface, hiding how you felt with a scoff.

“You’re gonna say that thing again, aren’t you?”

Johnny’s eyebrows raised, a dreamy smile on his face, “What?”

“That things will all work out in the name of love,” you huffed.

Johnny grinned.

“Honestly, I wasn’t. But the fact that you’re saying it is already something.”

Huffing, you ignored the fact that you truly were feeling hopeful, a part of you trying desperately to ignore those feelings, the passing thought of how you wanted things to work out with you and Byul.

“Whatever.”

===

Italy was absolutely beautiful in the springtime. In particular, the place Johnny was having his wedding.

A valley midway Florence and Rome, it didn’t take you very long to get there, though you were sure you would’ve reached a lot sooner if Ten didn’t keep requesting your driver to drive even slower just so he could ‘bask in the sights and sounds’.

“That’s it… I’m not leaving… Y/N, send a text to the staff chat group right now I’m resigning and migrating here,” Ten spoke, his head almost out of the car as he sighed loudly, the wind blowing his hair into disarray.

“This place is really beautiful,” Jaehyun murmured slowly, concentrating on getting a good shot of the pretty sunset on his camera.

Sighing, you let your mind rest as you watched the endless field passing beside you, going up the hill as you spotted the villa Johnny and his fiancé had rented for the three and a half days you would be here.

“I heard there’s a pool, can we hit that first?” Ten asked, making you grunt in dismay.

“We have to get ready for the welcome party,” you reminded him, seeing his mouth form an ‘o’ shape in realisation.

Groaning, Ten sighed, “I wanna congratulate the bride and groom but I'm really not in the mood to socialise today.”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes, “You see, that’s what you say now, but we all know you’re gonna get plastered later.”

“Okay fine, then I guess we could go for the welcome party, we congratulate them, then we go hang out at the pool, how’s that?”

Ten shrugged, “Fine with me.”

Upon reaching the villa, you marveled at the colours of the flowers that lined the stone walls of the entrance, a large black gate that opened to lead you down a stretch of road, the driver stopping between two gigantic walls lined with bushes, concealing the rest of the estate that you were yet to see.

With your bags, the three of you followed one of the staff as they led you up the path, past bushes that had been trimmed into different forms that were symmetrical to each other.

“Woah,” Jaehyun let out a low whistle, a small smile on his face as he marveled at his surroundings, “I really respect whoever maintains the garden here, it’s insane.”

“I feel like I'm in ‘Meet The Robinsons’,” Ten breathed.

Continuing up the path, you walked through a small field with a large fountain in the middle of the garden. Even the water looked like it was magical. Clear and shimmering as it flowed in the fountain.Trust Johnny and his fiancé to have picked a place as jaw-dropping as this.

Finally reaching the residency area of the villa, you decided to share a room, Ten and Jaehyun would share one of the beds and you would have the other to yourself.

But once you’d reached your rooms, Ten had splayed himself on the little recliner next to one of the beds, and Jaehyun had soon done the same on the floor, both busy with their phones.

Ten sighed, shutting his eyes as he let out a groan, “God knows we need this break… I think I can speak for Y/N and I when I say we’ve been extra tired lately trying to create a ‘High School Musical’ out of our bunch of two year olds.”

“Completely agree,” you chipped in from the bathroom, hearing Jaehyun’s laugh get interrupted by his loud sneeze.

Coming out of the bathroom, you’d shut the door behind you, walking over to the window to admire the view, a small “bless you” leaving you.

“You’d better not be falling sick, or you’re sleeping on this chair tonight,” Ten warned, pointing at the cushioned chair he was currently curled up on, making Jaehyun dismiss him with a lazy wave.

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t. I think I’m just exhausted. I’m gonna try to squeeze in a nap before the welcome party,” he glanced at the time on his phone, “Y/N can you wake me up at seven?”

You nodded, “Yeah, sure thing.”

“Hey, why didn’t you ask me to wake you up?”

“‘Cause you’ll probably be asleep too, idiot.”

Ten gave Jaehyun a sheepish smile, “Right.”

“I think I’ll go explore the area a little first, call me if anything.”

Hearing their hums and grunts of acknowledgement, you’d taken your spare room key and set off on your way. Walking through the warmly lit corridors of the building, you walked aimlessly past the library and the dining room, eventually finding yourself at a balcony of sorts. It overlooked the swimming pool below, and had an extremely beautiful view of the entire villa from where you stood.

Resting your forearms on the railing, you sighed, taking in all the beauty of the colours in the sky to the expanse of nature, to the faint sound of the water flowing in the fountain.

Ten was right, you did need this break more than you realised.

Fishing your phone out, you snapped a picture of your view and sent it to Kun, who had replied simply.

Kun 6:32pm - enjoy yourself, don’t drink too much. update me if there’s any cute guys-

With the smallest of smiles lingering on your face, you shoved your phone back into your pocket, looking out and trying to see what was the furthest thing you could make out in the distance.

Though you couldn’t do that for very long, distracted by the sound of a distinctive sound of laughter your brain could only associate with Mark.

Looking around you, you frowned. There wasn’t anyone else here. Looking again over the railing, your eyes widened when you saw none other than Mark, jogging to the far side of the swimming pool, a young girl following behind him.

You should’ve known who that young girl was. The laughter that escaped her was the same infectious laughter you were so used to hearing at a point in your life.

Looking a little taller now, less of her baby fat remaining, Byul’s hair was longer now, wet and sticking to her shoulders as she stalked after Mark, trying to get him to join her in the swimming pool.

A gasp left you at the sound of Taeyong’s voice calling out for her to be careful, unsure why you’d crouched down to hide yourself from view, a hand on your chest as you tried to calm yourself down, to stop your throat from feeling as though it were closing in on itself.

Would he look the same as before? The way he did his hair, the way he dressed. Would he act like he didn’t know you? To spare you from having to explain your past relationship to others.

Would he even want to see you?

Dismissing your spiral of thoughts, you briskly walked back into the building. Your head was spinning as you tried to find your way back to your hotel room, fumbling around for your hotel room key as you shoved the door open, almost stumbling into the room and shutting it behind you, supporting yourself against the door as Jaehyun stared at you from his position on the floor.

“I know I said I wanted you to wake me up but you didn’t have to run here…”

Your eyes were wide, shaking your head at Jaehyun as you tried to compose yourself, straightening up and mustering a small smile, “I’m… I’m gonna take a shower.”

===

It was safe to say that the party was no less stressful.

You weren’t sure if it was because there were a considerable amount of Johnny’s friends from his college here, but the welcome party had slowly started to feel like a college party that you were desperate to get out of.

Ten was certainly not holding back, seeming to have lost his filter the more buzzed he was, calling you over to where a group of them were gathered around a few of the lounge chairs at the swimming pool.

“Have you guys seen Johnny?” you asked with a small frown, you didn’t even get to congratulate him yet.

One of the girls in the group had shook their heads at you, “He left a while ago with Taeyong and Yuta, said he had some last minute stuff to settle about the venue.”

Nodding, you tried to conceal your disappointment as you sat next to Jaehyun, him scooting aside to give you more sitting space.

“Guys this is Y/N, Y/N meet… everyone.”

“You’re not from our college right? I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” one of the girls sitting across from you had spoken, introducing herself, her name sounding vaguely familiar.

You shook your head, “Hey, your name sounds really familiar, are you friends with Kun?”

Her eyes had lit up, nodding profusely, “Yeah! Yeah I am! You know Kun too?”

You nodded, feeling a little more comfort in knowing that there was someone at least vaguely familiar here (even if it was through a mutual friend).

“So, what were you guys talking about?” you asked, Jaehyun turning to you with a small giggle leaving him, his cheeks already rosy.

“We were playing truth or dare, but not really much of dare ‘cause we’re lazy.”

“Oh, alright, great,” you hummed. You didn’t plan on drinking much tonight, simply wanting to spend as little energy as possible before heading to bed.

Jaehyun snickered, “Prepare yourself, though, you’re playing with them.”

You almost thought Jaehyun was exaggerating, until you realised maybe Jaehyun was right. The scale of the questions they were asking were not what you were expecting.

You heard the sound of laughter coming from behind you, turning to see a man walking towards the group of you with a beaming smile on his face, laughing at something someone had said to him as he walked past them, spotting you and tilting his head at you, his eyebrows raising slightly, making you look away quickly in your panic.

Following your line of sight, one of the girls in the group had squealed at the sight of the guy.

“Guys! Baekhyun’s here,” she announced, everybody welcoming the boy excitedly as he took a seat next to you on the grass, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the centre of the circle and filling his cup.

Ten gave you a pointed look, “Y/N, meet Baekhyun,” he grinned, and that was when you realised he was the guy Ten was telling you about.

“Nice to meet you,” the boy had turned to you, giving you a small nod.

“What are they doing?” he’d asked you, one of the things you first noticed was how young he looked, his puppy like eyes that were slightly downturned at the corners and the way he looked so happy came as a pleasant surprise to you.

You huffed, taking a small sip from your cup, “Truth or… truth?”

Giggling, Baekhyun nodded, “I see, so, bride or groom?”

“Groom,” you answered quickly, “We were colleagues… ish. I mean I’m friends with the bride too, it's just that I know Johnny more.”

Humming, Baekhyun’s eyebrows raised, “Oh, so you’re a professor too?”

You shook your head, “Nope, preschool teacher.”

His smile had almost brightened, taking a sip from his drink and nodding slowly, tucking his legs up to his chest and resting his arms on his knees.

“Nice, that’s cute. Lucky kids,” he poorly stifled his smile, enjoying the look of confusion on your face, “they’ve got a beautiful teacher.”

Huffing, you couldn’t help yourself from rolling your eyes, “What about you? Bride or groom?”

Baekhyun huffed, “Both?”

Momentarily distracted by the laughter in the group, you heard Ten shouting something about how Kun’s friend had the highest body count among anyone else in the group.

“What about you? What do you do?” you asked, shifting in your seat as you tried to tune out the noise from the rest of the guests.

Baekhyun smiled, “I run my own fashion label,” he told you, “been doing it for a few years, actually.”

“Cool,” you hummed.

Taking a sip from your drink, you recalled what Ten said about Baekhyun being quite a bit older than you, almost laughing at the thought of how your mother would react.

Momentarily distracted by Jaehyun’s laughter making him lean back and almost shove you off of your seat, you turned to see what the group was reacting to, hearing one of the girls groan.

“Come on, don’t be a chicken, just answer it. We might not even know who they are, anyway.”

“What was the question?” you turned to Jaehyun to ask, seeing him rubbing at his chest, the redness of his ears obvious in this lighting.

“Best sex,” Jaehyun told you, looking on in curiosity for her answer.

“Honestly? I said this before and the answer still stands,” Kun’s friend had spoken, glancing around, “He left already, right?”

“Spit it out already, I need to pee,” someone had prompted.

Bringing your glass to your lips, you sighed.

“Definitely Lee Taeyong.”

Eyes widening, you’d almost choked on your drink, unfortunately attracting the attention of the group, who looked at you with suspicion in their eyes.

“Y/N looks like she knows something.”

Ten was far too drunk to have a filter, rolling his eyes as he grinned at you, “Of course she does, she dated Taeyong.”

The people in the group had looked considerably more shocked now, Baekhyun’s gaze curious as he watched your reaction.

“So, do you agree?”

Your lips parted, shrugging. You wouldn’t know, you’d never done anything of the sort during your relationship with Taeyong.

“We’ll take her silence as a yes.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you mustered a weak laugh, “Please don’t.”

Jaehyun tilted his cup in your direction, a look that read ‘I told you so’ on his face, “Too late.”

“Baekhyun, it's your turn.”

Laughing, the boy nodded, using his hands to make an inviting gesture, “Okay, hit me.”

“... Okay, pick a person in the room you think is the most attractive.”

“Lee Taeyong,” Baekhyun answered quickly, shaking his head, “Okay, no I’m kidding…”

Scanning the people around you, Baekhyun hummed thoughtfully.

“Can it be anyone in the room?” he asked, earning nods and ‘yeah’s from the group.

“Okay,” he nodded, turning back to face the girl who had asked the question, “I pick Y/N.”

Your eyes widened, averting your gaze as you stared into your cup, the cheers and whistles erupting from the group making your head start to throb, letting out a nervous huff of laughter.

“Fat chance, you’ve got Taeyong to compete with,” Jaehyun let out a small burp.

You were sure you probably looked horrified now.  

You huffed, standing up abruptly, “I’m a little tired, I think I’m gonna call it an early night.”

Ignoring the disappointed hums you’d received, you bid goodbye to Ten and Jaehyun, making your way back to your hotel room as you massage your temples, your headache absolutely frustrating you.

Glancing at the time, you saw that it was only 9, which was considerably early especially since you’d been sleeping pretty late the past few days doing work. But then, you guessed that could’ve been why you were extra tired now.

Washing your face before you’d changed into more comfortable clothes, you’d wasted no time before getting into bed, your eyelids heavy and aiding you into falling into your slumber.

That was, until you were woken up by the sound of the phone ringing.

Groggily opening your eyes, you winced at the brightness of your phone, your hand coming up to rub at your eyes as you picked up the phone, not bothering to see who was calling before you did so.

“Hmm?”

“Y/N!” you heard Mark’s panicked voice over the phone, “Shit, uh, it’s Byul. She’s running a fever and she won’t stop crying and I don’t know how shit works here I don’t know if she needs medicine or to see a doctor or what I don’t know what to do and I didn’t know who else to call but—”

You frowned, already getting out of the bed, casting a glance at the other bed to see Jaehyun and Ten there, sprawled over each other still in the clothes they’d worn to the welcome party, reaching for your cardigan as you wrapped it around yourself.

“Where are you guys?”

“We’re in the other house, I forgot what it was called but it’s the one that starts with a ‘B’.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll be right there.”

Grabbing your hotel room key, you’d left immediately, practically running over to the only house you remembered seeing on the brochure that started with a B, knocking on the door and seeing it open not long after, Mark staring at you with wide eyes.

“Did you fly here?” He marveled, shutting the door behind you as he led you to the bedroom, pushing the door open a little wider as you saw Byul lying on the bed, sweating, a wince etched on her features and tears on her cheeks.

You didn’t know what came over you at the moment, any hesitance from before disappearing as you approached her confidently, crouching next to the bed as you touched the back of your hand to her forehead, almost pulling it away in shock from how warm she felt.

Opening her eyes slowly, stared at you wordlessly, before she’d brought a hand to grasp yours tightly, refusing to let go.

“Is there a pail here?” you turned to ask Mark, who had to tear his gaze away from Byul and your interlocked hands, seeing him nod at you.

“Can you help me fill that with cold water, and hand me a small towel?”

Mark did as you instructed, while you brought your hand up to push Byul’s hair away from her face, her gaze still observing you silently.

“Am I gonna die?” she murmured weakly, managing to elicit a huff of laughter from you.

Shaking your head at her, you smiled, your thumb rubbing the back of her hand soothingly as you urged her to sit up slowly.

“No, honey, you’re not gonna die. Why do you think that?” Mark had returned with the small pail of water and the cloth, setting it on the bedside table.

“Because he looks scared…” she pointed at Mark, making you laugh.

Letting go of her hand, you told Mark he could wait outside, turning to Byul and asking, “You have a high fever now, can I help to wipe you with this towel so your fever can get better?”

Byul nodded, watching silently as you wrung the towel, cradling her head gently as you wiped her face and neck gently.

“Byul, can I take off your dress so I can wipe you with the towel?”

She nodded, moving to remove her long sleeved pajama dress so you could help to wipe her down, the girl seeming to have felt slightly better after the second time you’d wiped her down.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nodded, “Of course, you can ask me anything.”

Byul averted her gaze to look at her hands.

“Are you angry at me?”

You hand stilled on her leg, resuming your actions though a frown had lingered on your features, “No, of course not, why would I be angry at you?”

Byul fiddled with her fingers, “Because… because I said I didn’t want you to be my mom?... I didn’t mean that…”

At your lack of a response, she’d continued, her gaze lifting from her hands to look at your face, “I just didn’t want you and daddy to have another baby because my friend told me you and daddy wouldn’t wanna play with me after that. I thought you and daddy wouldn’t love me anymore.”

Your eyebrows lifted, her words making your heart ache.

“No… no, not at all Byul,” you felt your face get warmer, blinking back your tears as you swallowed.

“Your daddy and I will never stop loving you… even if there’s another baby… we would still love you, so much… and the baby too.”

Byul frowned, her eyebrows knitting as she pursed her lips, “Then why didn’t you call us? Daddy said it was because you went far away to study but why did you forget to bring your phone when you went far away?”

Your lips parted, shaking your head, “I’m sorry, honey… it was my fault… I thought you didn’t want to speak to me, but I was wrong.”

She nodded, “Yeah, you’re wrong. I missed you… daddy missed you too. He told me.”

You laughed in spite of the warmth in your eyes, the sting of the tears that welled up in your eyes as you wiped Byul’s face, using your hands to tuck her hair into a small ponytail.

“I’m sorry, honey,” you murmured, cursing mentally at how shaky your voice sounded.

Byul was ever as honest, shaking her head at you.

“It’s okay… because you’re here already. I want you to stay here,” she told you firmly, making you smile.

After what was almost two hours of tending to Byul and making sure she was okay, you took her temperature again, seeing that her temperature had gone down immensely, a sigh of relief leaving you.

“Are you feeling better?”

She nodded.

“I have to go soon, honey… back to my room.”

She frowned, “You’re not sleeping here?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m not. My room is in another building, baby.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.”

You laughed, “Why not? You don’t want to go to sleep?”

“I want you to stay here and sleep in my bed with me… because I love you.”

You heard it before, the l bomb from the kids you taught. But something about it coming from Byul rendered you speechless.

You were at a loss for words. This girl was going to be the death of you, for sure.

Byul frowned, wracking her brain for ways to make you stay just a little longer, turning to you abruptly to grab your wrist.

“Can you tie my hair? Like elsa?”

You gave her the response you usually gave to the children in your class that requested for you to braid their hair, “I can, honey, but you’ll have to sit still for a long time, are you okay with that?”

She nodded, a firm ‘yes’ leaving her.

So you did as she’d requested, brushing through her soft and smooth hair with your fingers as you tied it into a loose braid, trying not to laugh at the way she was slowly falling asleep as you tied her hair.

Once you were done, she was practically asleep against your body, you’d carefully put her clothes back on, laying her down in her bed and stepping out of the room slowly, leaving the door open just slightly for Byul.

Stopping at the sofa of the living room, you pressed your lips firmly into a line, finally letting yourself feel the emotions you’d tried hard to ignore during your exchange with Byul.

You didn’t know what you were scared of in the past, but you knew now that you were here, and you wanted nothing more than to stay. You weren’t scared. You were here, and you were ready, and the thought itself was enough to bring tears to your eyes again.

Your hand covering your mouth, you tried to stifle your sniffling, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

“Hey, everything okay?” Mark had spoken softly, his voice echoing throughout the otherwise silent living house.

Quickly composing yourself, you got up from the sofa, nodding, “No, yeah, just a little tired.”

Mark made his way over to you, knowing you were lying but choosing not to comment on it.

“Sorry, again, for calling you at like… ass o’clock. I just, you know, felt like she needed you.”

You nodded, your lip quivering as you nodded at Mark, avoiding his gaze as you blinked harshly.

“I’ll uh… I’ll get going now,” you turned, making your way towards the door.

“Y/N,” Mark called softly, stopping you before you could leave.

“Yeah?”

“I won’t tell Taeyong you were here if you don’t want me to.”

You nodded, “Thanks Mark.”

===

“Oh my God, why is he talking to her?” Taeyong’s frown was deep, his gaze piercing as he looked your way, sitting a few tables away from him and sitting between Jaehyun and Ten.

Mark followed Taeyong’s gaze, huffing, waving a hand in dismissal.

“Dude, it’s fine, it’s just Jaehyun.”

Taeyong’s eyes widened, Byul laughing at her father’s expression, the girl’s fever having fully disappeared by the afternoon, back to her energetic self by the evening.

“Are you kidding me? It's Jaehyun! He loves kids!”

Mark’s giggles bubbled out from him freely, his hand hitting Taeyong’s thigh, “Dude, are you scared? Think you can’t compete with Jaehyun?”

Mark’s words had reminded Taeyong of his current situation, his expression returning to a neutral one as he shook his head, feigning nonchalance with his shrug.

“Compete? Please. Who said anything about competing?”

A flicker of realisation washed over Mark’s eyes, his smile falling, “Okay, but for real, though. I heard Baekhyun’s interested in her.”

Taeyong frowned, seeing Baekhyun (who was unfortunately seated next to Ten) telling you something that made you laugh.

Taeyong pursed his lips, shrugging, “Whatever. Between him and Jaehyun… it doesn’t matter ‘cause they’re both not her type. I still win.”  

“You literally just said it wasn’t a competition.”

“That’s because it’s not,” Taeyong retorted.

“Okay, but you gotta admit, Baekhyun kinda is—”

Taeyong glared at Mark, “Are you on my side or not, Mark?”

Mark giggled, “Your side, your side. I swear.”

Huffing, Taeyong took another sip of his wine, turning to Byul to ask if she was enjoying her food, not expecting her to be busy staring at Y/N as well.

You and me both, Byul. Taeyong sighed.

At your table, you were distracted enough by Baekhyun and the speeches the bridesmaids were giving that you didn’t feel as tempted to look in Taeyong’s direction.

Which surprised you, because everything around you had to do with love, and it was making you stare at the table displays with an inexplicable longing inside of you, wondering how different your experience of Johnny’s wedding would have been if you and Taeyong were still dating.

What had sent you over the edge was when Johnny had stepped up to give a speech.

“I always tell my friends this,” he gave you a pointed look, “and they’re probably sick of hearing it, but I’m a sucker for the whole red string of fate thing, you know… this idea that things will work out in the name of love...the concept of your person. And I truly believe that that was what had brought us together,” he looked at his fiancé with nothing but love in his eyes.

“A huge thank you to Lucas, she likes to joke that you were the ‘red string’ ‘cause you kept telling her to give me a chance,” he laughed, “I still remember asking you to bring her to one of our stupid mixers and you definitely delivered but… seriously, though, thank you for that,” he smiled, turning back to face his soon-to-be wife, “My love, I’m certain that a life with you will be as beautiful, if not more, as i’ve always been certain it will be.”

You frowned, embarrassed that Johnny’s words were moving you to tears, looking up at the ceiling and blinking harshly to suppress your urge to cry.

“To my lovely guests, I’m happy to be sharing this experience with you guys, but for now, let’s enjoy the rest of our time in this beautiful place.”

People had continued to eat their dinner, the dj taking over after a while and playing music for people to dance, many of the guests getting up from their seats to mingle with the people from other tables.

Without thinking, you glanced at Taeyong’s table, making eye contact with him and feeling almost frozen in place, tearing your gaze away as you chose to look at the people dancing.

Byul didn’t seem to have gotten the unspoken memo, getting up off her chair with a thud as her feet landed on the floor.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Ms Y/N,” she announced, running off before Taeyong could stop her, watching in horror as she’d bounded over to your table, enveloping you in a hug.

About to intervene, Mark saw Taeyong shake his head, “It’s okay, I’ll go.”

A hint of a smile on Mark’s face, he nodded, ushering Taeyong away.

You’d almost gotten knocked off your chair by the force that Byul hugged you with, your arms wrapping around her instinctively, Ten and Jaehyun cooing at the young girl.

“Byul, this is Uncle Ten and Uncle Jaehyun.”

Byul had giggled, holding both her hands up to Ten, “Ten,” she giggled.

“Are they your friends?” she asked, grinning at you.

You nodded, “Yes, they are, honey.”

“Do you want to go to my table? My daddy and Uncle Mark are there,” she patted your shoulder urgently, pointing at the direction of her table.

You fumbled for an answer, gaze darting up and your eyes widening when you felt Ten kick your shoe a little too late, signalling Taeyong’s presence at your table.

“Hey,” you breathed, Taeyong shifting his weight awkwardly with his glass in his hands and a lump in his throat.

The silence was almost suffocating, your mind running wild with the million things you’d wanted to say, hating how the one you’d wanted to say the most was a pathetic ‘I miss you’.

Seeming to have sensed the tension between you and Taeyong, Jaehyun had cleared his throat, “Uh… Byul, do you wanna go see the desserts with Uncle Ten and I?”

Nodding, she turned to Taeyong, “Can I go, daddy?”

As if snapping out of his thoughts, Taeyong turned to Byul to nod, letting the three of them leave the table, leaving you and Taeyong in your own world.

“Do you uh…” Taeyong gestured to the garden, “wanna go somewhere a little quieter?”

Without another word, you followed behind Taeyong as you left the dinner area, walking through the field and past the large fountain, leading you down a set of cobblestone stairs until you’d ended up at a more secluded area, entering a little cave of sorts that was carved into the wall, a little resting area with benches lining the sides of the walls and a fountain in the middle.

The fountain wasn’t flowing with water, which made it seem quieter than it actually was. Made of stone, it’s stem was sculpted to look like there were two cherubs holding up the sturdy bowl, a little cupid perched in the middle of the bowl, his arrow pointed right at Taeyong.

Leaning against the fountain, you relaxed knowing that it was sturdy enough to support your weight, your gaze flitting around the room as you tried not to stare at Taeyong.

His jacket had been left upstairs and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up past his elbows, he leant against the wall of the cave facing you, his glass still in his hand as he let his gaze linger on the little stone arrow aimed at him.

Now that he was right in front of you, you’d given up on avoiding him, letting yourself observe him in the silence as he felt your gaze all over him, waiting for it to meet his eyes with an anticipation that made his heart pound.

He looked healthier, stronger almost. More confident too, you observed, in the way he carried himself.

Letting your gaze flicker to his hands, you noticed that he was still wearing the matching ring he’d given you, something about it telling you more than any words ever could.

“Your glass is empty,” you blurted, Taeyong’s gaze calmly shifting to look at his glass, a small huff leaving him as he’d leant down to place it carefully on the bench, straightening up and shoving his hands in his pockets, something in him almost desperate to reach out and hold you.

A small sigh left his lips. Taeyong held your gaze, “You look beautiful.”

Something about it reminded you of all the times where you’d felt like everything would slow down, when it became obvious that the boy staring at you was so filled with love that it seemed unreal. It was so expected of him, to be looking at you as though you were everything he wanted.

“I know what you’re going to say and I don’t like it already,” you murmured, though there was no menace behind your tone.

A hint of a smirk played on Taeyong's lips.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he spoke, his voice just as soft.

“... good.”

“I missed you,” he blurted, completely disregarding your previous words.

You huffed, “I told you not to say anything.”

He had the audacity to look sheepish, making you avert your gaze. You knew that the longer he was here, the quicker your resolve was dissolving. Then again, you thought, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Sorry… if there was one thing I needed to get off my chest tonight, it was that.”

Your hands fiddled with the fabric of your dress, Taeyong taking the liberty to fill the silence.

“How’ve you been?”

You nodded, “Good… I’m working at a new preschool… a Catholic one… with Ten and Jaehyun.”

Taeyong’s eyebrows jerked slightly at the mention of Jaehyun, composing himself quickly.

“Are you uh and Jaehyun uh…”

“What if we are?”

You didn’t know why you said that, maybe it was your feeble attempt to make him feel as flustered as you felt under his gaze.

“I mean… I don’t know. Good for you, I guess…” Taeyong shrugged, “He’s a good kisser.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you.

“You think I'd date him just because he’s a good kisser?”

Taeyong shrugged, “I was just hoping you wouldn’t even have a reason to date him.”

You gave in, your soft spot for him getting the better of you.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m not.”

He had smiled at that, shaking his head at you.

“Thanks, by the way, for helping Mark with Byul last night,” he spoke, observing your reaction carefully.

Your eyes widened, “Mark told you?”

Byul shook his head, “Byul did.”

“She… she wouldn’t stop talking about you the entire day… she misses you, a lot.”

You nodded, “I do too.”

“You do?” he looked shocked, but you saw how his shoulders relaxed.

You nodded.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asked, pushing himself off the wall slowly so he could take a step towards you.

Nodding dumbly at him, he took that as his cue to continue, “My feelings for you haven’t changed… and there’s no point lying about it because it tortured me.”

“I thought about you all the time… wondered how you were doing. It’s embarrassing how many times I contemplated just sending you a text to ask how you were but I didn’t because I knew you needed your space… I just kind of drove myself crazy wondering if, you know, you were thinking of me too,” he huffed in spite of himself.

You nodded along with his words.  

“I did,” you told him quickly, “more than you think.”

Taking another step towards you, Taeyong had a teasing smile on his face.

“What did you think about?” he prompted gently, your brain practically yelling for him to come closer, wanting nothing more than to hold him.

“I… I thought about you, wondered if you were having trouble taking care of Byul. I thought about whether you would be working too hard and forgetting to take care of yourself… I thought about-” your breath hitched when you’d felt how close he was to you, his hands on either side of your body, resting against the fountain as he nodded, prompting you to continue.

“I thought about how much I missed you…and missed doing work with you even though we couldn’t ever get much work done before getting distracted by each other... How I missed your touch,” you stopped yourself at the feeling of his hand that had touched the side of your face gently, brushing your hair back with soft touches against your face.

Taeyong hummed, smiling, enjoying how you were reacting.

“Keep going, don’t mind me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, trying to brave through the feeling of his other hand that had rested on your waist gently, rubbing it through your dress in a slow and intoxicating manner that made you squirm.

“I thought about how much I missed your… your kisses.”

“Did you?”

You pressed your lips into a firm line, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He had simply nodded, playfulness in his gaze and the smile he gave you.

“A lot,” he admitted, scrunching his nose slightly.

“Anyway, you were saying? You missed my kisses?” he prompted, leaning closer to you so his breath ghosted over your ears, spreading to your neck, Taeyong pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

“These kisses?”

You nodded, his actions knocking the words from your mouth.

“What about…” he pressed another soft kiss to your cheek, “these kisses?”

You nodded again, watching Taeyong pull away slightly, the look in his eyes making your knees week, his gaze flickering from yours to your lips.

Bending down, his hands wrapped around your thighs, “Jump,” he whispered, and you did as he told, feeling him carry you to perch you on the bowl of the fountain so you were eye-level with him, your legs spread slightly as he stood between them.

“What about… this kiss?” he’d cupped your face with one of his hands, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, your eyes shutting, a confused hum leaving you when he’d pulled away.

You should’ve known what he was doing. After all, he was Taeyong.

“Can you—” you were frustrated at this point, his hand that was on your cheek using his thumb to caress your cheek.

“Can I...?” he taunted, his thumb just barely grazing over your lower lip.

“Kiss me more,” you hated how breathless you sounded, hoping he would take pity on you and put an end to your misery.

Taeyong grinned, “If you insist.”

Leaning forward, he’d pressed his lips against yours, less gentle than before, but all the emotion he felt conveyed in the way he’d deepened the kiss, his other hand going from your thigh to your hip, holding you steady.

Moving from your hip to your back, he pressed his hand against your back so your chest was flush against him, drawing a sigh from you as you let your hands get lost in his hair, one of your hands touching his jaw.

Your head was absolutely spinning, nothing feeling real to you other than the burning touches Taeyong was leaving on you, the kisses he’d begun to trail down your jaw and to your neck, his gaze landing on the shiny ring that had peeked out from the collar of your dress, Taeyong smiling against your skin.

“You’re still wearing the ring,” he brought his face back up so it was level with yours, seeing you nod.

“Couldn’t bring myself to take it off.”

Taeyong smiled, his hands coming up to cradle your face in his hands, pressing a long kiss to your lips and pulling away with a sigh.

“Do you think Byul is looking for me?”

You glanced at your watch, not realising how much time had passed, grimacing slightly, looking to Taeyong to decide.

Shaking his head, Taeyong huffed.

“No,” he breathed, “five more minutes.”

He pressed another kiss to your lips, giggles bubbling from the both of you as you were both enveloped in a dazed happiness, “Maybe ten.”

===

Though neither of you had addressed what happened that night at the fountain after that, it was more than clear to the both of you that something in your dynamic had shifted once again. Though, you supposed, for the better this time.

Maybe it was Johnny’s unwavering belief that had allowed this to happen, but things did seem to be looking up for the three of you.

Byul was much more open to the idea of you coming back into their lives now, especially after the reassurance she’d received from you that night, even going to the extent of telling Taeyong that it felt like you were an angel sent to help her fever subside.

When Johnny found out about your little incident at the fountain as well, he was more than ecstatic, giving Taeyong a variety of excuses he could use to schedule a meeting with you. But Taeyong figured he’d prefer a more authentic approach as opposed to attending morning masses at the church next to your preschool just so he could bump into you when you reported to work.

It seemed, Taeyong’s mom had been doing her little angel duties for Taeyong as well, using the opportunity when Taeyong had dropped Byul off at her house for a sleepover to give him a bag full of side dishes for you, insisting that he drop them off to you as soon as possible.

And if it was an opportunity to see you, who was he to refuse, right?

It’d been a relatively long day for you, the day that Taeyong had visited. A Friday night, you were eager to wrap up your day and watch something on the television to wind down. Your wrist had been feeling better after using the wax machine and following the hand exercises and massages Taeyong used to do for you.

Sitting on the sofa in a tired daze, you’d heard the sound of a few firm knocks at your door, standing up slowly (careful not to move your hands too much and break the wax), you saw that it was Taeyong outside.

Pressing the button at your door with your elbow, you opened the door with your elbow, Taeyong pushing the door open after spotting your hand situation.

“Hey… sorry to interrupt your uh… hand spa,” he laughed, “but my mom made some side dishes for you… so I thought I’d just drop them off.”

Your eyebrows raised in delight, nodding at him, though he hadn’t made any move to pass them to you, and you didn’t feel like letting him leave so quickly either. Guess it worked out for the both of you.

“Do you, by any chance, wanna come in for some tea?”

Taeyong was a little quick to reply, nodding and stepping into your house as you let the door shut behind him.

Quickly loading the side-dishes into your fridge, you’d thanked him, leaning against the counter.

“Sorry, I realised I’d make the tea for you but my hands are… you know,” you huffed, Taeyong dismissing you with a shake of his head.

“It’s okay,” he gave you a small smile, “what’s it for, anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just this paraffin wax thing Kun bought for me, it’s supposed to help my wrists and I guess it has been helping a bit since I started using it.”

“It’s still hurting?” he frowned.

You gave him a sheepish smile, “Yeah, a little, since I started working again. But it’s fine, it’s getting better I guess.”

“Can I…” he gestured to your wrists, “do you want me to help you?”

He was already washing his hands, as if knowing you would say yes.

You felt weird to be asking something like this of him, especially after so long of doing it for yourself. But something in you missed the feeling of his attentive gestures to you, not being able to find it in you to refuse his offer.

“Yeah… yeah, that would be nice,” you murmured, seeing him follow you to the wax bath, “I usually just like… you know, peel it off and let it melt with the rest of the wax. Cause that’s what the instructions say.”

Nodding, Taeyong had carefully peeled the wax off your hands, humming at how it came off easily, leading you to your sofa after he was done, sitting next to you and taking one of your hands, massaging it carefully, looking almost… repentant.

“If anyone saw this, they’d think I bullied you into doing this for me,” you joked, attempting to alleviate some of the tension you were feeling, seeing him huff, though his expression remained the same.

“You… you can be angry at me, you know. For all the trouble and fear I put you through… you can just let it out. You don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen, you can be angry at me.”

You frowned.

After all he’d done for you, all the love he’d poured out to you, you weren’t sure why he’d expected you to be angry. If anything, you thought it’d be the other way around, for all the pain you’d put him through.

“Ang-” you paused, a huff of exasperation leaving you, “I don’t want to be angry at you, Taeyong. How can I be angry at you?”

At his lack of a response, you’d felt something in your heart clench, frustrated that he could ever think this way, “You’ve been nothing but… love to me this whole time… how can I be angry at you when you’ve been so good to me? I should be angry at myself… for not trusting what I felt for you back then.”

Taeyong shook his head, taking your other hand to massage it like how he’d done with your other hand.

“I didn’t think about how you were feeling… you know, it never even crossed my mind that you could’ve had reservations about marriage and stuff—”

“Honestly, Taeyong? I was just scared I wouldn’t be able to support you and Byul… I mean, I was a mess back then,” you laughed in spite of yourself, “I couldn’t even be strong for myself, I didn’t think I could have been a source of support for you and Byul.”

He nodded slowly, his hands cradling your hand delicately.

“But that doesn’t matter… What matters is we’re both here now… we’re, you know, different than how we used to be. Our only option is to... move forward.”

“Move forward?”

You nodded, hoping Taeyong understood the implication of your words, dismissing the hesitance that lingered within you as you met his gaze, “Do you want to do that?”

Taeyong nodded, his lips parting and shutting as he fumbled for the words to say.

“Do you wanna come with me and Byul to the beach next weekend, then?” he finally said, the proposition putting a smile on your face.

“She keeps asking me to ask you to hang out with us,” he admitted, a hint of embarrassment in his smile.

“So is it her asking? Or you asking?” you teased, Taeyong’s smile growing.

“Both.”

You nodded.

“It’s a date, then.”

===

You realised that the beach was a place Byul enjoyed because she simply loved the water. You saw it in the way she didn’t care about getting her hands dirty, how she would bring her binoculars just in the hope that she would be able to spot a shark (despite telling her that they were definitely in a shark-free zone), the way she would squeal and giggle at the feeling of her feet in the sand but then proceed to look nothing but calm and relaxed even when she was thigh-deep in the water.

Walking back from where you were previously playing with Byul near the edge of the water, you went to sit with Taeyong nearby on the little mat he’d brought, Taeyong putting his camera down on his lap and holding up a piece of whatever food he was eating to your mouth. You’d accepted it gratefully, too tired to even ask what it contained.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, earning a long sigh from you, your hands going behind you to support your weight.

“I’m old… I’m getting old,” you sighed.

Taeyong simply rolled his eyes, taking a spare towel and draping it over your wet legs.

“Tough being a senior citizen, isn’t it? Should we just sign ourselves into a nursing home now?”

You laughed, bending over to use the towel to dry your legs, your necklace carrying your ring falling out from under the collar of your shirt, Taeyong almost immediately taking his camera from his lap and pointing it at you, the click softly sounding before he’d turned, pointing it in Byul’s direction with another soft click following.

Taeyong’s way, he figured, of filling his camera with what he loved.

Taking your phone from where it lay next to Taeyong’s leg, you went to your playlist, putting it on shuffle as you sighed, letting yourself relax where you were.

Byul’s voice had called out to you,“Aunty Y/N, look! It’s the shell you dropped!”

Taeyong laughed, turning to you with a look on his face that read pure amusement.

“Did she just call you ‘aunty’?”

“She’s been calling me that for a while now. Insisted that she didn’t want to call me Teacher or Miss anymore,” you explained.  

Taeyong beamed, proud of his daughter.

Taeyong reached into the little cooler he’d brought, “Do you want ice cream?”

Nodding profusely, Taeyong took out two ice cream popsicles, one for you and one for him.

And as simple as it was, just the act of the both of you sitting on the beach, Taeyong asking you if you wanted to try his ice cream, Byul running over to the both of you when she noticed the ice cream in your hands and taking a huge bite out of Taeyong’s (or as huge as her mouth was, which wasn’t that huge).

The song that was playing, a little song you remembered to have given you more comfort during your time overseas than you ever could describe, heightened the feeling of bliss that you were feeling now.

As silly as it would’ve sounded to anyone else, what you felt in that moment was truly the comfort of knowing that you may have been young and afraid of the future, not knowing what you wanted from the world back then. But now, all you knew was that what you felt with Taeyong and Byul was love and love in it’s most genuine, playful nature.  

You heard the saying many times. To live is to live in fear. But you didn’t want to live in fear. You’d felt this love strongly for yourself in this moment and you knew that you wanted to live in this love, for as long as you lived.

Turning to Taeyong as Byul had sat on top of the towel on your legs, your free hand brushing her hair behind her shoulders neatly, you smiled.

“I could get used to this,” you murmured.

Taeyong hadn’t said a word, simply doing what he always did, resting the back of his hand on the mat, his hand open in an invitation for you to place yours in his.

And when you did, it seemed there was an unspoken wish fulfilment in the midst of that for Taeyong. The wish he’d made at the flower garden that you would find your way back to each other.

“Sorry, hope you don’t mind me interrupting,” your gaze was torn away from Taeyong to look at a teenage-looking girl who held a piece of paper in her hands.

“Oh, yeah, no problem. What can we help you with?” you spoke, seeing her hand come up to scratch at her neck, sheepish.

“No, I uh, I usually come here to paint and I saw you guys here since just now and I couldn’t help but paint you guys.”

Your eyes widened, a delighted hum leaving you, “That’s so sweet of you, can we see the painting?”

She held the piece of paper out, Taeyong taking it with a nod of thanks, finding that it was the thicker kind of paper people used for watercolour painting, the picture showing you and Taeyong sitting on the mat, your hands interlocked as you both watched Byul playing in the sand.

“Can I ask, how long have you guys been together?”

Taeyong wasn’t sure how to answer her, and you stepped in quickly.

“A while,” you laughed, “why’d you ask?”

The girl shook her head, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she averted her gaze, “Sorry, no, it’s just ‘cause you guys look really happy together… it was nice to see.”

Leaving without another word, you turned to Taeyong, who was still staring at the painting.

Turning around to take a look at the painting, Byul hummed, “Is this me?” she pointed at the little girl in the painting, playing in the water.

“Yes, it is, baby.”

Her smile grew, “Can we put this in my room?”

Taeyong turned to you, eyebrows raising in a silent question, to which you nodded.

“Of course, you can.”

“Okay, can you help me keep it? I don’t want to get it wet and ruin it.”

Having her fill of ice cream, Byul had gone back to playing in the sand, trying to make a sand sculpture of a shark.

Taeyong picked up your phone, “Can I choose the next song?”

He searched through your playlist as you gave him the go ahead, wondering if your favourite song was still the same as it was before.

Though, he noticed that you had two songs of the same name, giggling at the thought that you might have liked the song so much you didn’t realise you downloaded it twice, clicking on one of them randomly, your heart almost stopping when you realised what he had just clicked.

The sound of Taeyong’s hushed laughter played from the phone, “Hi to you whenever you find this recording,” you heard. Your hand immediately reached for your phone to pause the ‘song’.

Taeyong didn’t know what he thought was cuter, the fact that you’d saved the recording as an actual file, or the fact that you’d saved it under the name of your favourite song.

“You didn’t delete it.”

Feeling exposed from the way he was looking at you patiently, a teasing smile on his face, you shook your head.

“Yeah, I didn’t.”

Taeyong’s thumb rubbed over your knuckles gently, turning back to look at Byul, his voice now a soft murmur, “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Taeyong smiled, “Remember, you still have a kiss you haven’t redeemed.” 

Flustered, you averted your gaze, shaking your head at him. 

“Really? Even after that day in Italy?” 

Taeyong hummed, the same playfulness you were used to receiving from him making itself known in how he’d smiled at you, “I mean, if you want, you could redeem one for every time you listened to the recording too, I wasn’t specific.” 

“For a reason, clearly,” you huffed. 

Neither of you brought it up after that, winding down as the three of you had slowly packed up your things and left the beach, Taeyong driving while Byul slept in the back seat.

You’d run through your mental calendar as you thought about what else you had planned in the next few weeks, realising you had Johnny’s housewarming in a few weeks before your school’s spring concert.

You wanted to go to Johnny’s housewarming together with Taeyong, instead of going separately and spending the entire evening in misery again, but you weren’t quite sure how to bring it up.

“Are you going to Johnny’s housewarming?” immediate regret had filled you the moment the words had left your mouth.

Of course he was going for Johnny’s housewarming, what were you thinking?

Turning into the street where he lived, Taeyong’s lips curved into a smile, his eyebrows raising, knowing exactly why you’d asked that (though, he had to admit, he was glad you’d brought it up). He figured he’d save you the trouble of asking this time.

“Wanna go with me?”

It was as if he’d read your mind, asking you that, but you’d nodded nonetheless.

“Then, we’ll go together,” he said simply, fiddling with the ring around his thumb absently.

Reaching his apartment, you opened your door to get out of the car. Taeyong opened Byul’s door to wake her up gently, carrying her upstairs as you helped him to bring his and Byul’s things to his apartment.

Though upon reaching the apartment, as you were taking out Byul’s spare change of clothes and whatnot, Taeyong had gone in to help Byul wash up and get ready for bed. You heard the sound of the hair dryer turning off when you were almost done. Taeyong had come out with an amused smile on his face, a hand gesturing for you to head in the direction of Byul’s room.

“Your presence has been requested by the princess.”

You gasped, exaggerating your shock, “I’d better hurry then, wouldn’t want to keep the princess waiting.”

“Careful now,” Taeyong spoke as you’d walked past him in the corridor, turning to look at him expectantly, his body leant against the wall as he looked at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, “looks like we’re both after your heart now.”

Flustered, you’d gone into the room in your attempt to escape, going into Byul’s room to find her already tucked in bed, dressed in her pajamas as she grinned at you.

“Your highness,” you bowed, eliciting another burst of giggles from her, making your way over to her bedside, adjusting her blanket, your hand brushing her hair away from her face.

“Do you want me to read a story to you?”

She shook her head, “Just want you to tuck me in.”

You smiled, going the extra mile to make her feel extra tucked in, leaning over to press a soft kiss to her forehead, Byul’s hand reaching out to touch your cheek.

“Can I tell you something?” she mumbled, prompted by the soft hum you gave her.

Cupping her hand around your ear, her other hand haphazardly pushing your hair away from your ear, the sensation tickling you and making you squirm.

“I want you to be my mommy,” she whispered.

You were shocked, of course, but you were glad. Your hands coming up to cup her face.

“Can I say no?” you teased.

Her expression turned pensive, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Do you want to say no?”

You grinned. “No, I don’t.”

Her grin now mirrored yours, “Good! Then you can go and tell daddy.”

You nodded, standing up and giving her another exaggerated curtsy, “If the princess insists, I’ll do it right away.”

“Goodnight, Byul.”

“Goodnight,” she smiled.

Coming out of the room, you saw Taeyong still standing outside her room, his gaze following the way you’d left her door a crack open.

“Were you eavesdropping?” you gasped, earning a small smile from him.

“So what if I was?”

You huffed, feigning dismay, “I’ll have you know, that was a private conversation between me and the princess.”

Taeyong let out a huff of laughter, his hand reaching up to run it through his hair. He wasn’t sure how fast he was supposed to move, or how slow, when it came to ‘moving forward’. If it were up to him, he’d want you to stay the night like you used to, but he wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with that.

You were simply aching for him to ask, not wanting to return to your empty apartment either, not after experiencing such life with him and Byul here.

“So, I’ll uh… I’ll get going, then…?” you finally spoke, Taeyong’s eyes widening as he straightened up, no longer leaning on the wall.

“Oh, uh, actually… it’s pretty late… do you wanna just like… ”

“Stay over?” you finished his sentence for him, his smile growing as a small giggle escaped him.

“Why are we even dancing around it at this point? We sound ridiculous,” he laughed, eliciting giggles from you as well, shaking your head.

“Customary hesitance,” you laughed.

Taeyong scrunched his nose, “To hell with that.”

You nodded, mustering your best serious expression as you tried not to laugh.

“Indeed.”

Lying in Taeyong’s bed later, it didn’t feel foreign to you, the way he’d picked up one of your hands, gently massaging your palm.

“Taeyong,” you murmured, hearing him hum.

“Since we’re… you know, ‘moving forward’, I want to be honest with my mom and dad.”

Taeyong nodded, “I know.”

“I don’t know how that’s gonna go, but I just thought you should know.”

Taeyong hummed, turning around to wrap his arm around your torso, interlocking his fingers with yours as you let yourself relax at the feeling of your back against his chest.

“I’ll be here, if you need me. You don’t have to be scared.”

You nodded.

True enough, with him here and with the knowledge that you were both more certain in what you wanted, you weren’t.

===

4:32pm -one of the kids in the older classes is so nervous i think he might puke on his costume if i tell him the performances start in 15 minutes 4:32pm -kind of wish Byul was here, think she’d like to know they’re performing her favourite song-

Taeyong laughed, typing out his reply to you quickly, taking in a deep breath and letting it out as his car pulled to a stop.

Walking up to the building, Taeyong rolled his shoulders back, ringing the doorbell and waiting.

Soon enough, the door opened to reveal your dad, who didn’t seem all that shocked to see Taeyong.

“Come in,” he let Taeyong in, and Taeyong saw your mom’s gaze almost darken at the sight of Taeyong.

Hopefully, this wouldn’t take too long.

At your end, Ten had finally returned from wherever he’d disappeared to, holding up his cup of milk tea to you.

“Want some?”

You huffed, “No, I don’t. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be emceeing?”

“Nope,” he grinned, “did a little trade with Jaehyun, so he’ll be emceeing and I’ll be working the camera.”

Huffing, you gathered the consent slips for the children’s participation in the concert that you’d only received today (a little late, but better late than never, you figured).

Taking your place in the front row, you’d made sure you were visible to the kids as Ten had bid you goodbye, taking his place at the camera, watching Jaehyun make his way up to the podium and starting to greet the parents.

Taeyong had arrived at the hall just before it was your class’ turn to perform, greeting Ten when he’d seen him at the camera, Ten gesturing to you.

“She’s over there,” he whispered, Taeyong nodding with a huff. Even Ten knew you were the only person he was here for.

Standing at the side of the hall, Taeyong couldn’t contain his smile as he heard the very happy sounding song start to play, your little toddlers dancing on the stage in their costumes as you did the dance along with them from where you were seated, praising them every now and then and reminding them to smile, the sight somehow being one of the most endearing things he’d seen.

Your phone buzzed once the class performance was over, seeing a text come in from Taeyong.

Taeyong 5:18pm -i don’t know which was cuter to watch, your kids or you-

Lips parting in shock, you’d turned around, scanning the room and eventually spotting Taeyong standing at the side of the hall, giving you a small wave when he’d caught your eye.

5:18pm -my class is one of the last to perform, i’ll probably be done soon-  

Finishing up, you’d spent what felt like ages greeting your children goodbye as they left with their parents and families, saying goodbye to the teachers before you’d left with Taeyong, Ten giving you a knowing look before you left.

“I can give you a ride to your parents’ house,” he offered as you got into the car.

“I’d be lying if I wasn’t kind of hoping for that,” you gave him a sheepish smile, Taeyong shaking his head as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“You did well, I would never have thought that your kids had such a short time to prepare the number.”

You shot him a look, “Are you being sarcastic?”

“No, no,” he giggled, scoffing, “Can’t I compliment you?”

“Of course you can, but that sounded backhanded as hell.”

“Backhanded? It was a compliment!”

“Yeah, a backhanded compliment.”

Taeyong rolled his eyes, reaching for your hand.

“Backhanded, backhanded,” he imitated you, bringing your hand up to press a kiss to the back of your hand, “how’s that for backhanded, hmm?”

The way his eyebrows raised expectantly and his lips jut out was all it took for you to sigh. This boy was going to be the death of you, for sure.

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, I’ll give that to you since you look so proud of yourself.”

Pulling up to the pavement next to your parents’ house, you sighed, slightly reluctant to go in, but feeling a little more motivated knowing that it was gonna be an important night for you to have a genuine talk with your mother that (hopefully) wouldn’t end in her kicking you out again.

“Call you tonight?” he asked, earning a nod from you.

“I’ll update you on the verdict.”

Smiling, Taeyong nodded, already bidding you goodbye.

“Wait!” you stopped him, grabbing his face to press a quick kiss on his lips, shocking Taeyong into a fit of giggles.

“Sorry, I was feeling a bit nervous. Okay, bye, for real.”

Taeyong nodded, waving you off, “bye, for real.”

Entering your house, you were met with the sound of the television in your living room, your dad greeting you, seeing that your mom was seated on the sofa with him.

“We’re having pizza for dinner today.”

Your eyebrows raised, “that’s… different.”

“Lot’s of things are different these days,” your mom shrugged, earning a nudge from your dad, who seemed fairly amused at her behaviour.

“How was your performance, honey?” your dad asked.

“Good, good. The kids were really cute, look,” you pulled your phone out to show him a video, your parents looking on and cooing at the children.

A text from Taeyong came in.

Taeyong 5:47pm - I think you left your laptop in my car - 5:47pm -ok not think but u rly did leave ur laptop in my car-

Your eyes went wide, swiping the messages aside quickly, looking at your mom’s face to gauge her reaction.

In the absence of a reaction, not even a snarky comment, you frowned in confusion.

“You’re not saying anything?”

Your mother looked at you, eyebrows lifted expectantly, “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know…” you began, “Just, thought you’d be upset or something.”

Your mom shrugged, “Honey, there’s… I don’t think anything I say at this point is going to stop you, or that boy.”

“He has guts, I’ll give him that,” your dad commented, earning a frown from you.

“What... what happened? Did something happen?” you frowned, confusion written all over your features. 

“He came by just now, to speak to us.” 

Your lips parted in shock. Taeyong never mentioned anything about this to you. 

“I want you to remember that as your mom, I still want your happiness… and if it’s with this boy…” she stopped herself, “since the both of you are so insistent on it, and... he seems very certain that he can support you, go ahead.”

“But if anything doesn’t go well, don’t come crying to me,” she added as an afterthought, your dad letting out a grunt.

“You know she doesn’t mean it, honey,” he reassured you.  

“So… I can keep going? No objections?”

She sighed, “As much as I would want to… no, no objections.”

Well, that was certainly easier than you expected.

Funnily enough, that was one of the first peaceful dinners you’d had with your parents, the weight of the last lingering worry dissipating as you let yourself relax in your old house. Things were falling into place, working out in the name of love. In the name of your love for Byul and Taeyong, their love for you, your mother’s love for you. You were glad.  

You couldn’t wait to tell Taeyong the good news (even though he probably knew how things would turn out already).

===

You didn’t think you could get any happier than this. 

The weekly outings with Byul and Taeyong, the little activities you would do with her and him when you were at home together, watching movies with Byul and Taeyong having to entertain both Byul’s and your endless questions as if he’d directed the movie.

Though Taeyong was a little more stressed than he’d let on.

He had something planned, of course, but he was a perfectionist at heart, and he’d wanted it to be perfect, rehearsing with Byul endlessly, even in the car as they were on their way to pick you up for another beach day because of the good weather (or so you thought).

“Do you remember your cue, baby?”

Byul was practically bouncing with excitement in the back seat, her hands gripping her dress tightly as she looked out the window, as if unable to wait for Taeyong to pull up at your apartment building.

Nodding, she’d replied loudly, “it’s when you say ‘here’ right?”

Taeyong nodded. Okay, so at least she knew her cue. He didn’t think there was much else he could control, simply hoping that the weather would remain good for the evening.

Getting into the car, Byul had tried her best not to reveal the surprise to you, even at the endless opportunities you’d been unintentionally presenting her. From the way you fiddled with your ring, to the questions about why you were going to the beach at this time of the day when they’d already had dinner.

Once you’d reached the beach, you were excited to be at the receiving end of the cool breeze and watch the sunset as the sky had begun to turn pink.

Slightly more relaxed at the beautiful backdrop the universe had blessed him with, Taeyong held your hand in his, walking and pretending to find the perfect spot as Byul was practically vibrating in her anticipation.

Walking in front of the both of you, Byul listened hard for Taeyong to give his cue, hoping he wouldn’t forget any of the words they’d rehearsed just about a million times the previous few days, Byul having it practically memorized by heart by now.

“Should we sit here? I’m surprised there’s not a lot of people here now,” you asked, snapping Taeyong out of his daze.

“Sorry, what? I couldn’t hear you.”

Byul had turned almost immediately, getting down on one knee and yelling, “Daddy, now!”

Your eyes widened, bursting into laughter, leaning over to try to get Byul to stand up.

“Byul, are you okay? Did you trip on something? Let me see, is your knee alright?”

Taeyong winced, though he couldn’t help but laugh as well, figuring it was fine for her to have gotten the two words mixed up.

“No, I didn’t fall down! Daddy wants to tell you something but I have to kneel first!”

Your eyes widened, straightening up as you turned to Taeyong.

“What… hmm?” You fumbled for words, figuring this was another one of Byul’s little sudden skits.

Taeyong had blanked, trying to compose himself as he tried to recall the words he’d prepared.

“Byul,” he started, realising he’d uttered the wrong word but figuring he’d might as well go with it, “loves you a lot… and so do I.”

“Uh-huh,” Byul nodded.

In your shock, your filter was thrown out of the window, uttering the first thing on your mind.

“If I didn’t know any better I'd say you look like you’re about to propose to me,” you let out a huff of laughter.

Byul didn’t seem to understand why you were laughing, though she laughed with you.

“We are!” she confirmed (just in case you didn’t get it by now).

Your eyes widened.

Taeyong took that as his cue to get down on one knee, flustering you to no end.

“Y/N,” he started, “I know what they say about me… you know, that by promising you a happy life with me I’m ‘promising you the moon’,” your smile had only grew when you saw how Byul was silently mouthing the words along with Taeyong, seeming to have it memorized.

“... but I’m not. I didn’t promise you the moon, I was ready to give it to you, and I still am. But if the moon is too much, I’m telling you today that what I can promise you, is my love. My support, my presence, my kisses,” he let out a small giggle. 

Taeyong’s gaze was unwavering, filled with all the love he had in him.

“All of it, all my love… you can have it all,” This wasn’t in his script, but he felt like he needed to say it.

If her dad was going out of script, Byul guessed she could too, a firm, “me too!” leaving her.

“So…” Taeyong began, a huff of laughter escaping him as he averted his gaze briefly, “God, I never thought I’d be saying this in my life, like ever. But… what do you say? Will you do us the… the honour of being my wife?”

“And my mom?” Byul added, a proud smile on her face that she hadn’t missed her cue.

You’d acted before you could process, crouching down and letting Taeyong cradle your face in his hands as you nodded, a breathless ‘yes’ leaving you.

His hands on your face were gentle, though he couldn’t bear to take his hands away. It was as if the entire moment felt so unreal to him that he needed some sort of reminder that it was real. And looking at you now, feeling your hands come up to cover his hands, he knew that it was very real.

So he did what he’d been wanting to do for a while now, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours, the both of you not even being able to kiss each other properly with how much you were smiling, resulting in laughter from the both of you.

And like she always did whenever she watched movies with her Uncle Johnny, Byul had squealed, jumping up and down in excitement before she’d finally calmed down, throwing her arms around you and Taeyong, tapping his shoulder incessantly.

“My turn!!”

Byul had rushed over to you as soon as Taeyong had pulled away, peppering your face with kisses before finally letting herself ‘pass out’ on the floor, the laughter that had left you at the sight making Taeyong sigh.

“She always does that when we watch romance movies.”

After you’d all calmed down, sitting and enjoying the breeze and the last colours of the setting sun, Taeyong had jerked slightly when he realised something, eliciting giggles from Byul.

Pulling a small ring box from his pocket, a sheepish smile on his face, “I got too excited, I almost forgot to take this out.”

Opening the box, he’d revealed a beautiful ring, three interlaced bands of yellow gold, white gold, and pink gold.

“Three rings, one for you, one for daddy and one for me!” Byul explained, making your heart melt even more than it already had.

“Will you do the honours?” Taeyong told Byul, the girl picking up the ring roughly from the box with a grunt, grabbing your hand and sliding the ring onto your index finger.

“That’s the correct finger, right?”

About to correct her, you grasped her head to press a loud kiss on her forehead.

“Any finger you choose is the correct finger,” you insisted, earning a scoff from Taeyong.

“You really pamper her, you know?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, “Can’t help it, she’s too cute.” You pressed another kiss to her cheek, Byul practically beaming now.

“Me, me, you always say I’m cute too,” he stuck his cheek out at you, “kiss me more.”

You grinned.

“If you insist.”

Letting out a satisfied sigh, you nudged Taeyong, “Taeyong.” 

“Hmm?” 

Your smile was contagious, Taeyong feeling his expression mirror your even before you said anything. 

“Guess you can finally bring the good news to your grandma.” 

Grinning, Taeyong nodded, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your cheek, his eyes lingering closed just for a few seconds even after pulling away, somehow still feeling as though he were dreaming. 

Byul let out a loud sigh, “Can we stay like this for a little longer before we go back?”

You glanced at Taeyong, who had nodded. 

“Yeah,” he pressed a kiss to her cheek, “let’s take as long as we want.”

===

“Daddy, you have a white hair!” Byul had gasped, horrified.

“Mommy! Look at daddy’s hair!”

You feigned shock, laughing from where you were in your shared bedroom room, busy painting a little mural on the wall in the space above your headboard.

“Oh no! What should we do?”

Byul shook her head, “We have to cut it all off daddy! So the other white hairs won’t grow,” she explained, Taeyong’s eyes widening at her solution.

“Do you think daddy will look nice with no hair?” you encouraged Byul, making Taeyong’s lips part in shock. 

Byul narrowed her eyes as she observed her father carefully, pushing his hair back flat against his head, taeyong sputtering.

“What are you doing, Byul?”

You gave him a look, waving him off, “Leave her be, she’s just… picturing something.”

You set your paintbrush down.

“Taeyong, come here, I wanna know what you think of this.”

Taeyong had suggested cleaning up the mess of newspapers and pieces of drawing paper that they’d used, but Byul had insisted that she still had a little creative juice left in her, wanting to see if she can make an aquarium themed art piece with the deep blue paint water left from her previous play activity.

“Careful where you aim that paintbrush, Byul, or it won’t end up on the canvas,” Taeyong reminded, standing up and dusting his shorts off, making his way over to where you were in yours and Taeyong’s room, on your knees on your bed as you observed the mural from where you knelt.

Feeling the bed dip behind you, Taeyong’s arms wrapped around you from behind. Relaxing into his touch, his hands caressed your waist before moving to your stomach, rubbing your belly with a little giggle.

“Hey, where’s Byul?”

Taeyong nodded in the direction of the living room.

“Living room,” he sighed, relaxing further into you, “she wanted to use the paint water to make something.”

Letting your head rest against his shoulder, you felt his hands move slightly lower.

“I like the stars. Maybe you can add more stars?”

You gestured to the little tattoo on his arm, the north star that he’d gotten years ago.

“Like this one?”

He nodded.

Taeyong seemed distracted, feeling your belly and bringing his hands away from your torso in a circular motion, as if sizing something.

“What are you doing?” You narrowed your eyes at his hands.

“Just… picturing something,” he smiled.

Your eyes widened when you realised what he was doing, swatting at his hand with a gasp.

“You’re crazy.”

Taeyong would never admit that your reaction had only spurred him on, loving the way it was so easy to get a rise out of you. Or maybe, a part of him really was hinting at something.

“I mean…” walking you to the door of Byul’s room, Taeyong called out, “Byul! Do you want a little sister or brother?”

Byul squealed with excitement, loving the idea of having another little friend to take care of and play with.

“How fast can they get here? Can you ask mommy now?” she’d asked, making your eyes widen as Taeyong had simply turned to you with a playful glint to his gaze.

“Yeah, mommy? How fast can they get here?” he teased, making you roll your eyes.

You shook your head.

“There’s no guarantee that it’ll be easy to conceive,” you reminded him.

Taeyong let out a huff of laughter, pressing a kiss to your neck that left your skin feeling as though it were burning, his voice soft and alluring as his lips were barely next to your ear.

“Yeah, but… at least we’ll have fun trying, right?”

You gasped, swatting at his arms, turning around to face him and feeling him pull you so you were pressed against him.

“Fine, fine, I’m kidding…”

You huffed

“Okay, not really kidding but—”

“Do you want to?” your reply had shocked him, not having expected you to go along with it so easily.

“Of course I want to.”

You heard Byul yell from the living room, “Can we deliver it A-S-A-P?”

Taeyong turned to you, the stars in his eyes just as glittery as the first time you’d seen him.

This was it. The feeling you got in his arms, in the way he looked at you; the heaven you were looking for.

Taeyong was grinning now.

“If the princess insists... who are we to refuse?”

[helioleti]

I've been rewatching ATLA several times lately and this time I especially ended up wondering a lot about Iroh and Ozai's past and characters in general. I just can't help but think it weird that Ozai is the ultimate trashbag of a humanbeing while Iroh ended up preaching harmony and peace. It just doesn't make any sense. These guys are brothers. They were brought up by the same parents, in the same fascist imperialistic nation, they were taught the same values growing up. You're trying to tell me the difference is that Iroh was destined to be the person he eventually came to be, but Ozai was just born evil? No, I don't think so.

I have two hot takes that I'm gonna elaborate:

1. Iroh had a guidance Ozai lacked

2. Ozai was the less favored son

(Disclaimer: I haven't read the comics yet so I don't know how deep they've already gone into this subject at some point. I'm trying to interpret and analyze the stuff that I got from the animated series only. If anything I say contradicts what has already been confirmed in the comics, feel free to correct me.)

Hear me out. Iroh wasn't born a saint. Everyone is aware of this, especially Iroh himself. He laid siege to Ba Sing Se for 2 years, costing the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom thousands of lives. Everyone knew that if the Fire Nation took over the capital, it meant almost ultimate victory for the Fire Nation. He even went as far as making a offhand sadistic jokes about burning the city to the ground in that letter to Zuko and Azula.

Iroh acknowledges it himself; He was a different man.

So what changed?

Yes, his son died. It broke and shattered him from the inside, making him drop all efforts to continue fighting in the war. To continue what had been his lifelong ambition, what he believed to be his destiny. He had a literal vision about taking over Ba Sing Se when he was a child, and that had been what he'd been pursuing ever since. But the death of his son managed to crumble all of that into nothingness. How is that possible?

Don't get me wrong. I think it's completely valid. I just don't understand how Lu Ten and Iroh could've had such a loving and caring relationship in the first place, when that's clearly something unusual among the royal family. Ozai burned and banished Zuko without a second thought, not to mention all the other shit he did to him growing up. Ozai didn't give two shits about Azula either, he only ever intended to use her as his weapon. Doesn't seem too surprising, if you ask me. Azulon didn't hesitate to demand that Ozai kill his own son if he wanted the throne. That's the man that raised Ozai, so it's just logical that Ozai learned that behavior and those values from his own father.

Even 9 year old Azula thinks it laughable that Iroh would fall apart at the death of his son. She is a child and this is how she thinks. The reason Zuko doesn't think like this is because he's had the guidance of his mother, unlike Azula. This is the kind of mentality these kids grow up with. They grew up with war and so did Iroh and Ozai.

So why was Iroh's relationship with Lu Ten so different? Where did Iroh experience the kind of compassion and love he passed on to his own son, that Ozai definitely didn't? People act on how they've come to learn, so where did Iroh learn to care about his son to a point that it made him give up on his lifelong ambition?

Let's review a very crucial information we have on Iroh and Ozai as siblings: They have a huge age gap.

Frankly, I'm guessing about 10-20 years. Looks more like 20 to me, but that could also be Iroh's greater amount of endured pain and war making him look older than he actually is. But no one can deny that an age gap is definitely there. Which can also indicate they had different upbringings, despite having grown up in the same family as brothers.

What does this mean? Well, that's just me theorizing now, but I can definitely imagine that Iroh had someone, a family member maybe, there for him who wasn't around or didn't care to be when Ozai grew up. There must've been someone there who gave Iroh emotional security and guidance throughout his upbringing. Who? That's up to imagination. A friend of the family? A friendly uncle? His own mother ((or father))? (The last two things worked out for Zuko in the end, didn't they?) Otherwise I can't really explain myself why Iroh had enough values to love the way he loved Lu Ten, while Ozai clearly didn't give two fucks about his children at any point in his life.

Iroh was the firstborn son, the one who had a vision very early in his life that his destiny was to take over Ba Sing Se. Probably the one who got to have a family member care about him enough to show him how to love.

(I like to point this out a lot because I find it very interesting, and very significant. Please A:TLA give us more info on Iroh's past!!)

Which brings me to my second take: Ozai was the less favored son.

Iroh was clearly a son to be proud of. He was a master firebender, the "Dragon of the West", if you will. He apparently had a vision as a boy that he'd conquer the most "impenetrable city" in the world. He probably lived up to his parent's expectations for his whole life, especially having no sibling to be compared to for a significant part of his life. He broke through the outter wall of Ba Sing Se during his siege. Yada yada yada, you get my point. He's the best son they could've wished for.

And Ozai? As far as I know, he barely even has any military achievements. Taking over Ba Sing Se was Azula's doing. While Iroh laid siege to the capital, he was at home chilling in the palace. He's the younger brother to an established hero and was never meant to be firelord. Now, I haven't read the comics for more info on Ozai's biography, but this man barely had a chance to live up to his parent's standards with Iroh as an older brother. If my theory is correct, Ozai also didn't have any person to provide him emotional guidance throughout his life. (*cough* like Azula)

The logical outcome is: infinite jealousy.

And when Ozai suggests to Azulon that he revoke Iroh's birthright to become firelord, this is Azulon's answer:

Azulon doesn't even hesitate to call Ozai out on his bullshit. He doesn't hesitate to take offense at the suggestion of betraying Iroh, and he even seems to care about Iroh's suffering. Not to mention that Azulon is overall annoyed with Ozai's request for an audience and sends the rest of Ozai's family away as soon as he can, to get whatever it is Ozai wants over with.

I could also mention the fact that Ozai tried to impress Azulon with his daughter's skills (Azula, even named after him) and the overall strained relationship these two seem to exhibit. It's obviously very different from Azulon's relationship with Iroh, if the way he talks about said man is anything to show for.

What if Azulon treated Ozai the same way Ozai treated Zuko? (Probably without the physical abuse, but you get my point.) What if this is where Ozai learned to treat a "useless" kid like shit, maybe also in a way to cope with how he was treated himself?

Getting deeper into the fact that Ozai is rather a loser compared to Iroh, without any big military achievements and without value for anything beyond that, this also explains a lot about Ozai's constant need to establish his dominance.

First; Becoming Firelord through radical manners (you know, killing his own son or killing his own father)

Second; Publicly burning and banishing his own son whom he considers a weakling, who dared to speak up in his war room. Doing this to have everyone know that he doesn't associate himself with weakness and that he will not ever tolerate any form of disrespect.

Third; The whole Phoenix King act. No one can tell me this isn't a madman's doing. This is literally to show off that he is the most powerful person in the world.

Ozai is so obsessed with proving himself and his superiority to everyone, including himself and probably Iroh too. This makes most sense if we consider that he probably lived in his brother's shadow for his whole life, ignored by probably every guiding figure he's ever had in his life, maybe even considered a laughingstock by his own father.

Perhaps this is also the reason Ozai didn't have any problem with Iroh accompanying Zuko in banishment. His brother, the hero in whose shadow he grew up, and his son, the failure he'd wanted out of the way for a long time already. It would erase Iroh's image that made him superior to him, once and for all. For himself and the world. I believe that branding him a traitor was the biggest satisfaction Ozai had ever experienced in his life.

I absolutely despise Ozai with every fibre of my heart, but it amazes me how ATLA continues to leave so much room for interpretation and explanation for a character as despicable as him. Writing this, even had me feel sympathy for him at some point. Feel free to disagree with me or add anything, I'm eager to hear everyone's thoughts about Ozai and Iroh's backstories because I'm geniuinely very curious.