#well! maybe not! but no one more qualified is doing it and so i might as well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gammasnippets · 2 months

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Drive T

SNSD Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader

12,260 words (Co-edited by @capslocked and @sparkynsfws)

Wimbledon—one of the most prestigious tennis tournaments in the world, known for its rich history and iconic traditions. It's the highlight of the tennis season, where the best players from around the globe compete for the coveted title on the hallowed grass courts of the All England Club. This is where names are made, and where legends are born. From casual fans to hardcore tennis enthusiasts, everyone is eager to witness the thrilling matches and the breathtaking displays of skill the players unleash on the courts. And with only a few months to prepare, you do your best to be in your best physical and mental condition for the coming tournament.

That is… If you're one of the qualifying players.

Something suddenly hits your head, snapping you out of your daydreaming. It was a tennis ball, rolling down your face. It's not even a hard hit, but it sure is enough to knock you back to reality. You then scan the tennis court looking for the culprit. Not far from you stands a woman, one hand on her racket and the other on her hip, and she doesn't look pleased.

"Hey! Quit your daydreaming, will you?" says the woman, sounding annoyed.

"That was uncalled for, you know?" you retort as you rub the point of impact, a spark of irritation in your voice.

"I just finished warming up here and the next thing I know, you're in your own world!" she snaps back, clearly unapologetic for her errant shot.

"Well, if only you didn't arrive late, we could've started our practice session on time," you reply, trying to maintain your composure.

The woman doesn't seem to like your response and walks towards you, her face slowly turning red.

"So it's my fault that you scheduled our practice session at such an inconvenient time?"

"What? You told me that you're only available today and that you really wanted to practice," you protest, feeling both confused and frustrated.

"At fucking midnight?" she exclaims, raising her voice.

"Well, it's only an hour after…"

"11 PM, 12 AM… Whatever! It's late in the evening, you dumbass!"

She kinda has a point. Despite the great discount you received for renting the tennis court at nighttime, you begin to realize that scheduling a session close to midnight wasn't the wisest decision.And she has every right to be angry about the inconvenience.

You take a step back, realizing that this argument is getting out of hand.

"Alright, alright… I'm sorry, Taeyeon-noona. I should've checked with you first."

To your relief, her anger softens slightly, and she sighs.

"Well, we're way past that now. Might as well make use of the time while we're here."

"Thanks for understanding…"

"Just don't you ever do this again," she says as she points her racket at you, her tone still sharp. "Or I'll make sure to hit you harder next time."

"Okay. I get it," you reply, feeling intimidated by her fiery demeanor.

You were always intimidated by Taeyeon's fiery demeanor. As your former teacher and tennis club advisor, she's known to be as strict and disciplined. You can't forget the torture she put you through, but that didn't sway you from leaving the sport you're passionate about. And for better, or more likely worse, you and Taeyeon are still in touch after all these years. Maybe you could've found a better partner, but you've never been more comfortable with anyone else other than her.

You and Taeyeon proceed to continue your practice session on the tennis court. Both of you are determined to make the most of the remaining time and improve your skills, ignoring the tension that still lingers in the air. The court fills with the sound of powerful swings, focused footwork, and the occasional grunt of exertion as you both push yourselves to the limit. Well-deserved breaks are taken to catch your breath, sip some water, and exchange a few friendly jokes amidst the intensity.

After a few rounds of intense practice, the two of you decide to take a much longer break.

"Fuck… I need a break," you pant, collapsing onto a nearby bench.

"Jeez. You're tired already?" Taeyeon teases you, as desperate for air as you are.

"You're the one to talk," you retorted, throwing the tease back at her.

"Well, you're the one who keeps on making me run all over the court!" she grumbles as she retires beside you, pouting her lips.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," you reply, smirking.

"Yet I still won," she boasts, a smug grin spreading across her face.

"I only let you win, you know?" you shrug nonchalantly.

Taeyeon laughs out loud at your cocky remark.

"As if! You always trip when you're returning my drop shots."

"Hey… It only happened once."

"More like twice!"

You raise your hands in mock surrender.

"Okay… It happened twice. Happy now?"

"You bet," she continues to laugh. "God, that was funny."

Taeyeon can't help but giggle at your mistakes during the game. As much as you find her laughter infectious, her teasing you might have hit a nerve. You want to retaliate by telling her how equally awful she was at returning her serves. But maybe she deserves this after the earlier exchange.

"So, wanna do a few more rounds?" you propose to Taeyeon, eager to win against her.

"Already? Can't we relax a bit more?" she asks, her body still slumped against the bench.

"Come on. We still have a lot of time left," you urge her, giving her a good nudge with your elbow.

"Exactly! Can't we use the time to rest longer?" she complains, faking an exhausted expression.

You sneer at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Noona, please. Don't be such a baby. You're too old for that," you tell her.

She then lets out a loud gasp. You obviously hit a nerve.

"Hey! I'm not old, you fuck!" she exclaims, raising her voice.

You chuckle. "Yeah, but you're definitely older than me."

"I'm only 34!" she yells, her cheeks turning slightly red.

"You can even pass as my aunt," you joke, unable to resist pushing her buttons even further.

In a hurry, she ejects herself from the bench, ready to argue back.

"Listen here, you little shit. You can joke all you want, but I can kick your ass right here, right now."

Seems like your teasing had the wrong effect on Taeyeon. As if a fuse inside her was lit, she's ready to fight you with words, fists, and probably anything else she can get her hands on.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," you apologize, trying to appease her.

But Taeyeon's not having it, and she's still fuming.

"That's not gonna cut it, you asshole," she continues to rant. "Y'know what? Let's make this interesting."

You don't know what's going through her head, but whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What? Interesting, how?"

"Since you think I'm such a weak old lady, even though I've beaten you many times…"

"We're almost even," you interject, but she's quick to cut you off.

"Shut up! You're not helping your case," she barks, glaring at you.

You shut your mouth and let her finish.

"Anyway, I bet I can beat you in a singles match," she declares, her tone serious.

The proposition sounds appealing to you, but it does feel like you're being manipulated.

"You can't be serious, right?"

"Do I look like I'm not?"

You scan her face carefully. Her expression doesn't waver and looks dead serious. You begin to regret messing with her earlier, and you're unsure what to say next.

"Well?" she asks again, expecting a clear answer.

You can't help but let out a deep sigh.

"Okay… What's on the line, then?"

"The loser has to follow the winner's every command."

You're a little taken aback by the wager, not because it's particularly absurd, but rather that you can't believe how quickly she's able to come up with this kind of proposition.

"That… That's quite a bold bet," you say, feeling a bit intimidated by the conditions.

"Are you backing out already? I thought you're a better player than that."

"No, I'm not! I'm just… Surprised," you stutter, unsure if you're able to take the challenge.

"Don't be such a chicken," she taunts you, a devilish smirk forming on her lips.

The teaser now becomes teased, and her expression is the one that you would never want to see. She's ready to fight you, and not just with her words. You can sense her desire for victory emanating out of her, and that scares the hell out of you.

Suddenly, immense pressure is crushing you down, and you begin to doubt yourself. Taeyeon's always been a formidable player, even with her age and size. If it weren't for her teaching you, you wouldn't have learned all the tricks that you've used to win many matches. You start to regret your decision to play with her, and you have no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat.

"Alright… You've got a deal," you agree, taking the challenge.

She gives a smug grin.

"That's what I wanted to hear," she chuckles. "Well, we've got plenty of time. Shall we have a nice game?"

"I guess so…"

The two of you prepare for the match, putting your rackets and other equipment away. As you're preparing, a thought pops into your mind, and you have a burning question to ask Taeyeon.

"You do realize that a singles match is longer than doubles, right?"

"Well, we can adjust the rules. This isn't an official match, after all."

"Alright. So how do you want to do this? Best out of three sets?"

"Sounds fair enough."

With the agreement, you and Taeyeon prepare to take the court once again. Both of you are determined to win and get the advantage over the other.

You set off the game with your first serve, hitting a fastball to the far corner of the service box. Taeyeon returns with a strong swing, hitting a high-speed shot that you're unable to defend. She takes the first point.

"Shit," you curse under your breath, as the scoreboard shows 15-0.

You try not to lose your focus as you return to the baseline and prepare for the next serve.

You decide to be more careful, not wanting to repeat the same mistake. Your next serve is a lot slower and hits the back of the service box. Taeyeon's return is weaker, allowing you to defend easily. With the advantage, you go on the offense and score a point.

"Yes!" you celebrate, pumping your fist.

"Hey. Not bad," Taeyeon concedes, not wanting to praise you.

"You can't expect me to let you have the advantage all the time," you brag, not letting her dampen your spirit.

"Try me."

Those two words somehow have a strange effect on you, and your confidence quickly wavers.

You try to be a little bit more aggressive on your next serve, and she's forced to make a mistake, throwing the ball off bounds. The score is now tied at 15-30.

The two of you continue your game, fighting tooth and nail to get the advantage. You give your best and so does her. Neither of you are willing to let the other gain any sort of upper hand.

The score eventually reads 40-30, with Taeyeon holding the lead. A single point would end the set and give her a huge advantage.

The volleys between you and Taeyeon are fast and aggressive, but with a strong swing, she manages to catch you off guard, scoring the winning point. She wins the first set.

She cheers at her victory, a wide grin spread across her face.

"Not bad. Didn't think I'd get the first point, huh?"

"Yeah, but the first set doesn't matter," you retort, not wanting to get discouraged.

"Is that so, hotshot? You can try."

You grit your teeth, and you're not sure whether Taeyeon's taunt was meant to annoy you, but her words had its desired effect. You're now ready to prove her wrong and win the second set.

She starts off the second set, preparing for her next serve.

"Let's see if you can return this one," she challenges you with a sly smile on her face.

"Bring it," you reply, your focus unwavering.

Taeyeon lets out a fast serve, aiming for the corner of the service box. Luckily for you, you manage to read her serve and position yourself perfectly to return it with a strong forehand. A few quick exchanges later, you score with a cross-court shot to start the second set with a point in your favor.

It's now your turn to serve. You perform a tricky flat serve, hoping to catch Taeyeon off guard. She anticipates your serve, returning it with a well-placed backhand slice that lands just over the net. In your hesitation to reach the ball, you mistakenly returned it too high and Taeyeon seizes the opportunity, smashing with a powerful overhead shot. The score is now tied at 15-15 in the second set.

You didn't let this setback discourage you. Instead, you double down on your serve, determined to not repeat the same mistake. Taeyeon is also focused and prepared to return your next serve.

With a swift motion, you throw another fast serve, and Taeyeon returns it with a powerful forehand, forcing you to make a mistake. But you managed to return the ball at an awkward angle, giving her a difficult ball to return. You seize the opportunity and score the next point.

The tension between you and Taeyeon is at an all-time high as the second set moves closer to its conclusion. Each point is fought fiercely, and there are a lot of close calls. Neither of you is willing to concede even a single point.

With both of you on the verge of exhaustion, the match is now coming down to the wire.

The score is now 15-40. You need a single point to win the second set.

You have the opportunity to serve. Taeyeon prepares herself, ready to receive your next serve.

"Here goes," you mutter, trying to psych yourself up. With a powerful serve, you launch the ball over the net. You watch anxiously as the ball flies toward the opposite side of the court. She reacts quickly, running towards the ball and returning with a strong forehand. You are forced to return the ball with a lob.

In the air, the ball curves towards the left, landing just outside the lines. You can only hope that Taeyeon isn't able to return it. But with her usual finesse, she returns the ball with a backhand lob, landing just in front of you. It's your turn to seal the deal with a powerful backhand of your own that hits the corner of the court, earning you the final point of the second set.

You try to keep your composure despite the win, but deep down you're ecstatic.

"Nice job," she compliments you.

You only give her a nod in return.

"So, shall we start the last set?"

"Yeah. Let's."

The chill of the midnight air dissipates as the final set begins. With both of you equally fired up and determined to win, you prepare for the final round.

This is it. The last set of the match. There's no time to lose.

You take the serve, performing a tricky jump serve that she struggles to defend. With a powerful swing, you hit a fastball that she's unable to return. You take the first point.

Taeyeon's serving next. With a fast serve, she catches you off guard and you're unable to defend her serve. The score is now 15-15 in the final set.

The pressure is mounting on you as the set progresses. You want to win. You both do. But there's something in her that drains you of your will. You're not sure if she's just playing a good mind game, or if she really has the upper hand.

The turn to serve goes back to you. You're determined not to let Taeyeon get a free pass. With a slow flat serve, you try to catch her off guard. She returns it with a well-timed forehand. You quickly move towards the ball and return it with a sharp topspin that lands just inside the line. She's unable to return the ball and you score a point.

The score is now 30-15 in your favor. The momentum is shifting in your direction. But it feels as though it isn't.

Taeyeon's serving next, and she looks determined to break the momentum. She hits a fast serve, hoping to catch you off guard. You return it with a powerful forehand. But her next shot is even faster, hitting a topspin that forces you to return it with a weak lob.

At that point, she brandishes her trademark move.

She rushes towards the ball, winding up for a smash. You prepare yourself to counter her attack… Only for Taeyeon to swing her racket sideways as it falls down, hitting the ball with a strong topspin. In a rush, you chase after the ball, but it bounces erratically, almost at a 90-degree angle. Before you can do anything, the ball lands outside the line.

“Drive T” is what she calls it. Not only does she swings her arms in a T shape, but the topspin she generates causes the ball to draw a cross, or rather a small letter T, as it bounces uncontrollably on the court. It’s a move that is very hard to predict, both to the players and spectators alike. You’ve seen her used that technique on many occasions, both to intimidate her opponents and to finish the game quickly. It is her dangerous weapon.

And she just used it against you.

Your jaw hangs open in shock. You can't believe she did that.

"Now that's a topspin!" Taeyeon boasts, laughing.

As much as you want to respond to her, you're not sure if you can. As "friendly" as this game is, you can't help but feel a creeping sense of dread at how serious this is turning out.

The score is now tied 30-30. The tension is getting even higher, and your mind is racing. You want to win. You need to win.

You take a deep breath as you prepare for your next serve. As calm as you can be, you send the ball towards her with a powerful serve that sails all the way to the other end of the net. But with her quick reflexes, Taeyeon effortlessly returns the serve with a perfectly executed backhand. You send it back with a swift backhand of your own, making her chase the ball towards the sideline. She manages to get to the ball just in time, and with a flick of her wrist, she sends a sharp topspin towards your corner.

Your heart races as you anticipate the spin and speed of the approaching ball, adjusting your movement to counter her shot with a controlled forehand. However, as you send the ball back, she has positioned herself near the net, swinging it downwards with incredible power and speed. You already put all your strength in returning the previous shot that you have no more time left to react accordingly, making the ball slip past you and land out of your reach.

Taeyeon grunts with satisfaction as her shot gives her a crucial point, bringing the score to 40-30 in her favor.

You curse under your breath, realizing that you may have bit off more than you can chew. But you have no option to back down now. All that's left is to turn the tables and win.

You take another deep breath as you wait for her to make her next move.

Your eyes remain locked on Taeyeon as she prepares to serve, her intense focus indicating that she's not going to make this easy for you. What happens next is like a blur as the ball immediately zooms towards you the moment she tosses it into the air, not even letting it wait for gravity to pull it down. With her on match point, she has all the reasons to end this game as quickly as possible.

You quickly run to intercept the ball, swatting it with a powerful forehand. She stays on her toes, moving swiftly to return your shot with a skillful backhand slice that barely clears the net. The distance is quite the challenge, but it's something you can still manage. You make a sprint towards the net, just in time to hit it back with a drop shot that catches Taeyeon off guard. With her nimble feet, she manages to reach the ball, though she has to dive in for the last few inches just to keep the rally going. And with a desperate lob, she sends the ball soaring high into the air, giving you enough time to deliver a crushing overhead smash that lands just inside the baseline, completely out of Taeyeon's reach.

As the ball connects with the court, a sense of triumph washes over you, pumping your fist in the air. You managed to buy yourself some room to breathe in this fiery match and gain a much-needed point, leveling the score at 40-40. Taeyeon recovers herself from her dive, letting out a sigh as she recovers her breathing. You're exhausted yourself, struggling to catch your breath after the intense rally. But there's no time to rest. You lock eyes with her, both of your eyes burning with determination to win over the other. The next serve could very well be the turning point of the entire match.

Once again, it's your turn to serve. Everything is suddenly hazy as if the world around you blurs into a complete mess of colors. All that's clear in your eyes are the ball in your hands, the lines on the court, and the woman in front of you. It could be the adrenaline. It could be the fear of losing. It could be anything. But none of that matters. Send the ball her way, swing it back if she dares to return it, repeat.

The next few rounds are nothing but intense back-and-forth as you and Taeyeon fight for every point. The ball flies across the court in a flurry of precise shots and strategic placement. You're tired as hell, and maybe, so is she. But neither of you can afford to let up even for a moment, not even an inch, as the score remains neck and neck.

After a few deuces and grueling rallies, the tension on the court reaches its peak. She has managed to bring the score to what could potentially be the final point of the entire match. You're both sweating profusely, your bodies glistening under the harsh stadium lights. The cold air that should be a reprieve feels suffocating against your heated skin. She could be on her last legs, but you're kind of on the same page.

You prepare yourself as Taeyeon prepares her to serve, her eyes locked on yours like a hawk, unwavering and intense. Her serve is swift, darting through the air with deadly accuracy. You react quickly, heading forward to meet the ball with a powerful forehand return. She then easily steps into position, returning the ball with a soft backhand shot. You match her shot with a well-executed slice, aiming to throw her off balance. But she still manages to reach the ball with a quick flick of her wrist, sending it sailing over the net with surprising speed and precision.

As the ball hurtles towards you, you summon every ounce of your pent-up aggression to smack the ball back with an explosive topspin shot, making the ball draw a sharp curve towards the sideline. This is all you have left. You can feel your strength draining as you shout your heart out with that final, desperate shot.

Unfortunately… Your tough opponent, Taeyeon, is right there, ready and waiting.

In a matter of seconds, the distance between her and the ball closes as she lunges forward, her body contorting with the grace and agility of a seasoned athlete. And as she swings her racket in a cross through the air, you know that she isn't just going to return the ball - she's sealing the deal with her Drive T. She hits the ball with such power that it spins wildly as soon as it's airborne. You watch it making its landing not far from you and with your heart pounding, you scramble to retrieve it. But with the ball's unpredictable spin, it bounces away from you instead of it landing in your control.

And as the ball bounces down to a stop, Taeyeon wins the match, winning 2 sets to 1.

"Yay! I won!"

She screams in joy and hops up and down with excitement as if all her exhaustion has instantly evaporated. Meanwhile, you collapse to the ground, completely outplayed and spent. As she celebrates her victory, she notices that you've been anchored to the ground. She makes her way towards you, skipping lightly in joy.

Trying not to feel bitter about your defeat, you raise your hand, giving her a thumbs up and a genuine smile. She responds in kind, before extending her hand to help you up.

"Well, looks like you took the match. That was nice," you say as you sit up, catching your breath as you try to compose yourself after the intense match.

"Thanks. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a moment to recover. My legs feel like they're burning, though."

"Oh. Same here… But I'm good."

"Damn. How do you even do that?"

"I told you many times to work on your legs! I always tell you to do more than just jog," she scolds you as if losing to her wasn't enough.

"Alright, alright," you reply, rolling your eyes. "I'll start next week."

"Well you better be," she chuckles, tapping her racket lightly against your shoulder.

You chuckle amidst the exhaustion, the frustration you felt at losing to Taeyeon fading away.

"So, is that your dare for me?" you ask her.

"Hmmm?"

"You won, right?"

"Oh! Right! The bet!" Taeyeon's eyes then widened in realization.

You shake your head lightly, amused by her sudden forgetfulness.

"And you still deny that you're old—ow!"

She smacks you again with her racket, albeit harder this time.

"What did I just say about calling me old?"

"Okay, okay! Jeez, what a killjoy," you mutter, rubbing your shoulder.

"What was that?" she taunts, preparing to hit you again.

"Nothing! I said nothing," you quickly respond, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Good!" she exclaims, giggling.

"Now, what do you want me to do?" you repeat, trying not to provoke her.

Her attitude changes quickly.

"You're actually gonna go through with it?"

"I mean, you won, so…"

"Are you sure?"

"Come on, just tell me what you want me to do," you urge her.

She pauses for a moment, contemplating the terms of her victory.

"Well, since I beat you pretty badly…"

"That was close," you protest, only to earn a glare from her.

"It wasn't. Now shut up and listen."

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod.

"Y'know what? You look like a tired mess right there. Let's head over to the bench and I'll think of a good prize."

"But my body's still—"

She lets out a loud, exasperated sigh.

"Alright. Get up, you lousy ass," she extends her hand, offering to pull you up.

You take it and let her lead the way to the benches. It's not that far, but the short walk to the benches is enough to make your knees wobble and legs ache. The two of you collapse onto the bench, finally able to relax and rest for a bit.

"Jeez, I didn't think the match was gonna be that hard. You did really well," she says, giving you a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Well… I was against you, after all. Of course, it'll be hard," you respond, your tone slightly annoyed.

"Hey! Don't get me wrong. It's still a nice game."

"I guess. Thanks," you say, shrugging.

A moment of silence ensues, and the two of you sit quietly, basking in the cool air. Despite feeling sore, a little break is all you need to recharge after the intense game. You then look at Taeyeon, and she doesn't seem to show any signs of exhaustion, despite sweating profusely and having her breath ragged after the match.

"Say, how come you don't look as tired as I am?" you ask her, breaking the silence.

"Well, for starters, I've got a lot more years of experience than you," she quips, grinning smugly.

You roll your eyes and sigh, too tired to give a smart retort.

"But seriously, though. You should take better care of your body. You're still young," she says, her tone sounding more like a concerned mother than a friend.

"You've been saying that for a while now," you grumble.

"Well, that's because I was your teacher! Jeez! Don't be so stubborn," she protests, giving your shoulder a light shove.

"I'm not being stubborn. I'm just tired," you then let out another deep breath. "You took all the air out of me"

"Exactly. And that's why I'm telling you to take care of your body better," she says, her tone firm.

"Okay, fine," you concede.

"Now, shall we move on?"

"Sure. Let's talk about my dare," you say, eager to finally know what she wants.

"Right. Are you sure you're in on this?"

"I'm sure. Yeah," you assure her.

"100%? No take-backs, okay?"

"If it's not anything too extreme."

"Don't worry. It's nothing like that."

You look at her, and she smirks at you. Something tells you that you'll regret this, but curiosity gets the better of you.

"Fine. Shoot it."

"Pull down your shorts."

Your jaw hangs open. You expected her to ask for a silly dare, like a funny photo or something along those lines. But this? You didn't expect this at all.

"H-huh? W-what did you just say?" you stammer, your cheeks burning red.

"Come on. It's not gonna kill you."

"But… That's—"

"Just a little fun, really."

You're speechless, your eyes wide as you process the words.

"I… I don't think I can do that."

"Hey. The deal was the loser has to do everything the winner asks, right? You lost. So, do it."

You swallow the lump in your throat and sigh. There's no getting around this.

"Okay… Fine," you reluctantly agree, slowly sliding down your shorts.

The fabric brushes against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Your heart beats fast, your palms sweating profusely as you slowly reveal more and more of your bare thighs. Your boxers are the only thing separating your modesty from the woman sitting beside you, and you can't deny her the sight of your growing erection.

Taeyeon's lips curl into a satisfied grin, and she bites her lower lip as she sees the tent forming between your legs.

"You're really turned on by this, huh?" she says, teasing you.

"It… It's not like that, I swear."

"Sure, whatever you say," she giggles.

"So… Is this it? Did I pass the dare?" you ask, trying to change the subject.

"Well, technically… But now I'm interested in something else," she replies, her voice dropping an octave.

"And? What would that be?"

"Let's just say I want to see what's underneath those boxers."

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, and you instinctively cross your legs.

"Noona… There could be people watching us," you tell her, scanning the entire area.

"It's 3 AM. Do you think those guards will even bother walking around at this hour? No one's gonna see," she reasons.

"But…"

"The deal?"

"Okay, fine. I'll do it."

Slowly, you take a deep breath and reach down for your boxers.

"Ugh… What am I doing?" you mumble, cursing at yourself.

You grab the hem and pull down the fabric grazing against your shaft. Your erection springs up, freed from the confines of your underwear.

"Wow. Now that's quite a view," Taeyeon chuckles, ogling your exposed member.

You turn away, too embarrassed to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry. This is so embarrassing," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey. Don't be. Especially when you have this…" she bites her lip, her eyes fixated on your dick. "Big thing right there."

Your cheeks burn a bright red, and you feel like you could explode.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Of course not! Come on, you can't tell me it's not hot."

You stay silent, unable to answer.

"Alright. Lemme suck that," she says, leaning in closer to you.

"W-what? Y-you can't be serious!"

"Hey. No take-backs."

"But this is—"

"Listen. You clearly look like you're not in on this."

"I… I didn't say that…"

"So? What's with the hesitation?"

"I-it's just that… This is kind of sudden," you reply, unable to think straight.

"Then let me ease you into it," she says, grabbing your dick with her hand.

Your breath hitches, the sudden contact of her soft hand against your sensitive shaft taking you by surprise. She slowly moves her hand up and down, gently massaging your dick. You can't help but let out a low moan as her fingers run across the tip, sending shivers down your spine.

"How does that feel?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I-I don't know…" you manage to say, your mind in a daze.

She smirks at your reaction, totally getting turned on by your response.

"You did your best so… I'll give you a consolation prize."

"H-huh? What do you mean?"

Before you can say anything, she leans in, her face just inches away from your cock.

"Wait… You can't be serious. You're going to—"

"Let me give you a little treat. You can tell me to stop after, but I hope you won't,” she says, her warm breath brushing against your shaft. “It'll be a shame, really,"

You're speechless, your mouth hanging open as you stare at her in disbelief.

"Well, here I go," she announces, leaning forward and enveloping your cock with her lips.

The sudden warmth sends a shock through your body, and you let out a moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. She starts sucking on the tip, and her tongue swirls around the head, lapping up the beads of precum. You can't believe it, but it feels so good. Your breathing quickens as she continues to suck, taking your dick deeper into her mouth. She moans against your cock, and you can feel her voice vibrating through your shaft.

"Oh, fuck…" you curse, the pleasure driving you insane.

She then grabs the base of your shaft with her hand and starts stroking you in sync with her mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but grab a fistful of her hair, gripping it tightly. She picks up the pace, her hand moving faster as her head bobs up and down. Her eyes lock with yours, and she's clearly enjoying this. You can see the lust in her eyes, and it's all too much for you.

The pressure builds up, your mind goes blank, and all you can think about is the intense pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense up, and before you know it, your body starts shaking uncontrollably. You can feel your balls tightening, and the urge to cum is overwhelming.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

With one final thrust, you unload your seed into her mouth. Taeyeon suddenly looks surprised as you unleash a torrent of cum, filling her mouth. She then pulls out, coughing, the excess dripping down her chin.

"Sorry! I didn't know if you were ready," you apologize, worried that you might have forced her.

She continues to cough, and she wipes the excess cum off her face, taking a moment to catch her breath.

"It's okay. I was kinda taken by surprise, but it's fine," she manages to say, giving you a reassuring smile.

"I'm so sorry. I just couldn't hold it any longer," you apologize again, embarrassed by what happened.

"I told you it's okay," she tells you.

"Well… If you say so."

"And besides… It's not every day that I get to do it with a virgin," she winks as she lets out a soft laugh.

"Hey! I'm no virgin!" you protest, trying to defend your ego.

"Is that so?" she teases, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"I… I've experienced this before," you mutter.

"Sure, and that's why I got a mouthful," she chuckles, licking her lips.

"I was… I was holding out!" you retort.

"But of course," she laughs. "Just admit that you're a total virgin."

You're left speechless, unable to defend yourself. She just grins at you, clearly amused by your reaction. You want to say something, but she has you beat.

"Alright… Off to the next one!" she then exclaims, looking rather excited.

"Next one?"

"You didn't think I was just gonna leave you like this, did you? We're just getting started," she winks, giving your dick a squeeze.

"Wait, what?"

"That was just the warm-up. I have a lot of other things planned for us."

"Like what?"

"Let's just say this is gonna be the night of your life. And by the time the sun rises, you'll be thanking me,"

"I'm not so sure about this…"

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing," she reassures you, flashing you a devious smile.

She lets go of your dick. You feel relieved that her tight grip is no longer on your throbbing cock, but also a bit disappointed at the loss of her warm touch. She then takes off her clothes, exposing her voluptuous body. Her breasts are barely covered by an orange lace bra, and her hips are accentuated by a matching thong. You gulp as you take in the sight, and you can feel your dick getting even harder.

"What's wrong? Getting nervous?" she asks, giggling.

"Uh, yeah. This is really sudden. I'm not sure what's going on," you admit, unable to look away from her gorgeous body.

"Come on, it's nothing you can't handle. Just enjoy it," she says, grabbing your hand and placing it on her waist.

You can't deny the electricity that runs through your body the moment her skin makes contact with yours. Her body is so soft and warm, and it feels so good to touch her. It's intoxicating at the least, and you can't help but be swept up by the moment.

"Now, I'll let you have a taste of my body. You better make the most of it," she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft moan, the sensation driving you wild.

"So? What are you waiting for?"

"I…"

"It's okay. You can touch me," she assures you, guiding your hands towards her breasts.

"But, Noona…"

"Touch me more."

You hesitate for a moment, but she urges you on, and you give in.

Your fingers trace the outline of her bra, feeling her erect nipples through the fabric. As if by instinct, you gently squeeze her breasts, eliciting a moan from her.

"Mmmh… That's it. More," she purrs, arching her back.

Your heart races as her breasts push against your palms, her nipples rubbing against the thin material of her bra. The friction feels incredible, and the pleasure drives you crazy. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you don't want it to end.

"You're so cute. You look like you're enjoying this," she teases, smiling.

Guilty as charged.

"Just relax. I'll take care of everything."

She then presses her lips against yours, her tongue pushing past your lips. Your tongues dance, and you savor her sweet taste. She then nibbles on your lower lip, and you can't help but moan.

"Nggh! Noona, wait," you breathe out, pulling away from her.

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

"I… I think this is too fast."

She giggles. "Awh. Poor thing."

She then cups your face with her hand and kisses you again, a much slower, passionate kiss this time. You feel her smile against your lips, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It feels so good, so addicting. Yet you don't want to admit it.

"Taeyeon-noona, I…"

"Do you want to take it slow?"

You only gave her a nod.

"There. Just tell me what you want."

She then reaches back and unhooks her bra, tossing it to the side. Her bare breasts glisten under the dim lighting, and you can't help but stare in awe.

"There. I hope this evens us out," she smirks. You can see her cheeks blushing as she puts her magnificent assets on full display.

"Y-you don't have to, y'know? I'm fine with—"

Before you can utter another word, she pulls you towards her, pressing your face against her plump, supple breasts. Muffled, you try to push back, but she holds you firmly against her, not letting go. The warmth of her skin and the softness of her breasts overwhelm your senses, slowly melting your hesitations away.

Before you know it, you feel your hands explore the rest of her exposed body, gliding across everything you can reach.

She can't help but laugh and moan simultaneously as you explore her body.

"Getting braver, aren’t we?"

You choose not to answer and instead let your actions speak for you.

Taeyeon's skin feels so soft and smooth, and it's a wonder to touch. You can't help but want to touch her even more, to explore every inch of her. You suck on her erect nipples, and her breath hitches, letting out a soft moan.

"That's it. Take it all in," she whispers, running her fingers through your hair.

Your heart races as her scent fills your nose, and it's driving you crazy. You can't help but want more, and you feel yourself getting lost in the moment.

"Taeyeon-noona…"

"Shhhh… Don't say a word. Just enjoy it," she replies, her voice low and seductive.

Obliging, you continue to taste her, relishing in the sweet, salty taste of her skin. Your hands travel across her body, touching every inch of her. She bites her lip and arches her back as you trace the curve of her spine, and her breathing quickens as you explore her thighs.

"Oh, fuck…" she breathes out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands then find their way to her butt, and you squeeze her cheeks, feeling the soft, firm flesh in your hands. She looks at you with lustful eyes, and you can see the desire written all over her face.

"Oh, my… You're getting good at this," she purrs, smiling seductively.

You blush slightly, her compliment clearly lifting your confidence. You shoot a smile back at her, fueled with confidence and hunger for more. She smirks at your newfound boldness, welcoming your hunger with equal enthusiasm.

Your lips lock with hers for another round of torrid passion, the heat between your bodies intensifying with each passing second. Your tongues dance in a fiery tango, exploring every crevice and making each other elicit a fervent moan. Neither of you is backing down, eager to win over the other as if your earlier spar wasn't enough.

"Noona, you're… Amazing," you manage to gasp between heated kisses, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

She smirks. "You're no slouch either."

"But, you… I…"

"Mhhh… Don't stop now," Taeyeon whispers, her voice dripping with need.

"But let me just…" you struggle to remove your shirt despite the urgency of the moment.

With her expert guidance, you quickly shed your shirt and throw it aside, giving your partner an unobstructed view of your bare chest.

"There we go. Better?"

"Yeah. You were on top of me so I had trouble taking it off." you jest, a playful smirk spreading across your face.

She then chuckles, hitting you playfully on the shoulder.

"And you blame me for that?"

"Why not? You keep on pushing me down."

"Jeez… I'm not that heavy, you know?"

"I know, I know. You're just so aggressive," you tease, running your fingers through her skin.

Taeyeon coos at your touch, her body pulsating with desire.

"Hmmm? Is that your way of flirting with me?"

You shrug. "Well… It's worth a shot."

She replies with a soft chuckle.

"Consider it a successful shot," she breathes, her voice laced with lust.

You blush, feeling a surge of pride at having successfully aroused Taeyeon.

"Well… Thank you."

"Then let's get back to it, shall we?" She purrs, her hands eagerly tracing the contours of your chest all the way to your abdomen. You shiver at her touch, goosebumps appearing on your skin.

She then looks at you with an inviting gaze, and her lips curl into a sly grin. You can't help but stare in awe, mesmerized by her beauty.

"W-what? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, silly," she giggles. "I want you to touch me, too."

"Oh. Right."

"I can't be the only one enjoying this, y'know?"

"My bad, noona."

You resume your passionate makeout session. The two of you moan against each other's lips, exploring each other's bodies. The two of you are so lost in the moment that the world around you begins to fade, and all that matters is the heat, the electricity, the passion.

"Fuck. You taste so good," Taeyeon moans, her voice dripping with lust.

"Mmmh… You do too. Fuck," you reply, the heat and desire growing within you.

"But seriously…"

"Hmmm?"

"Learn to get a hint," she giggles.

"Heh. Sorry," you mumble, trying to regain control. "I was kinda lost."

"Understandable," she snickers. "It's your first time, after all."

"H-hey. You're making me sound like a virgin."

"Well… You kinda are."

"Come on now…"

Taeyeon can't help but chuckle at your response, amused by your reaction.

"Fine. Let's not talk about that."

"I'm not that innocent, you know," you retort, pouting.

"Really, now?"

"Y-yeah. Really."

"So you wouldn't mind if we take things further… Right?"

You gulp, suddenly aware of what she means.

"Well… I guess?"

"Good."

She then reaches down and slowly pulls down her panties. You just realize how wet she is as you stare in awe. She then grabs your hand and leads it to her core. You hesitate for a moment, but she guides you, urging you to take things further.

"It's okay. You can touch me."

You gently cup her mound, feeling the slickness of her wet folds. Her pussy is hot, and her juices flow freely. She shudders as your fingers brush against her sensitive bud, and her body tenses up.

"Yes… That's it!" she moans, biting her lip.

"Is this it? Are you sure?"

"Mhmm… Just go ahead."

Your fingers explore her core, and you find her swollen clit. You rub her bundle of nerves in a circular motion, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

"Oh, fuck! That feels so good."

"Are you sure? Am I doing it right?"

"Yes! Just keep going," she moans, her voice barely above a whisper.

You increase the pace, applying a bit more pressure. She writhes under your touch, her body trembling with pleasure.

"F-fuck… Y-yes!" she moans, her voice shaking.

The heat is building within you, and you can't hold back any longer. You decide to switch positions, with Taeyeon now resting her body on the bench. At this view, she looks so small, so inviting. You proceed to kiss her thighs as your hand continues its assault.

"Mmmh! Oh shit! Yes! Keep going!"

You then kiss her core, licking her wet folds. She shrieks, her voice ringing in your ears. She grabs a fistful of your hair, holding on for dear life. You then lick her clit, eliciting a loud moan from her. She can't hold on much longer, her body writhing in ecstasy.

"Fuck! You're so good! I'm… I'm close!"

You can't help but be proud, and you redouble your efforts, sucking on her clit. She arches her back, and she screams, her orgasm tearing through her body.

"I'm gonna cum! Shit! I'm gonna fucking—aghh!"

You watch as her body spasms, and her legs quiver. She rides out her orgasm, her body trembling with each wave of pleasure. She finally collapses, panting, her body slick with sweat.

"Holy shit. That was… Amazing," she breathes, her voice shaky.

"Did… Did I do good?"

"Of course, you did. Not bad for a first-timer."

"Well… Thanks."

"Now, let me return the favor," she says, a smirk spreading across her face.

"What do you mean?"

"It's your turn now," she says, licking her lips.

"B-but I already—"

She interrupts, putting a finger against your lips.

"I know you have some left in you" Her hands move down towards your privates, massaging every bit of it. "And besides…"

She then leans over and whispers to your ear, her voice seductive.

"I'm still not satisfied."

As if on cue, you can feel your member throbbing in response, as if beckoning her to touch you even more.

"Looks like someone's ready for more," she giggles.

"Hey… I'm just sensitive," you protest, looking at her with your best puppy-dog eyes.

Taeyeon lets out a laugh, seemingly caught off-guard by your adorable attempt at innocence.

"Oh, cut that out. That doesn't suit you in the slightest," she playfully retorts.

"I just thought I'd give it a try," you reply, looking disappointed.

"Don't you ever do that again, alright?"

"Why not?"

She then pulls you closer. You can see the sheer desire in her eyes burning through her gaze. She seems to want more from you than just a casual encounter.

"I don't want cute and innocent from you."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to be as fierce as you were earlier," she whispers, her tone low and seductive.

"As you wish, Miss Winner," you say, a cheeky grin spreading across your face.

"Show me what you got," she says, her tone challenging.

Without a moment's hesitation, you crash your lips against hers for yet another round, kissing her passionately. She reciprocates, and her hands grip your body, her nails digging into your skin. It hurts, but the pain is drowned out by the intense pleasure.

You break the kiss and attack her neck, nibbling on her soft flesh. She moans, and her hands wrap around your back, pulling you closer. You continue your assault, and she writhes underneath you, her breathing ragged.

"Ooh, shit! Yes! That's it!" she gasps, her voice cracking.

You continue your trail down her body, planting soft kisses along her collarbone. She whimpers, and her hands run through your hair, encouraging you to keep going. You then move further south, planting a soft kiss on her chest, right between her breasts.

"Yes… Yes! Please, keep going," she whispers, her voice breathy and needy.

You then plant another kiss on her left breast, followed by a soft bite on her nipple, making her whimper.

"Ahh shit!" she groans, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No… Please don't," she pleads, her voice dripping with need.

"Well then," you say, kissing her other breast, biting her nipple.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Like that?"

"Yes! I like that!"

"What about this?"

You move further south, trailing kisses down her belly. She moans as your lips caress her skin, her body writhing with pleasure. You then reach her thighs, and you give them a soft kiss.

"Yes! Oh, god!" she moans, her body trembling.

You then spread her legs apart, exposing her pink pussy, glistening with her juices.

"Oh, fuck. Look at you," you marvel, staring at her womanhood.

"I know. It's fucking amazing," she says, a satisfied smile on her face.

You then move closer, and your tongue finds her slit. You slowly drag your tongue along her wet folds, eliciting a moan from her. She throws her head back, her eyes closed, as she relishes in the sensation.

"Shit! There it goes again! That fucking tongue!"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She opens her eyes, staring right at you.

"No! Don't you fucking dare!"

"Alright," you chuckle, continuing your assault.

You lap at her wet folds, lapping up her juices. You savor her sweet, musky taste, and it makes you feel drunk.

"Ooh, shit! That's the spot," she gasps, her hands gripping the back of your head.

You continue your assault, licking her clit and teasing her wet entrance. Her body trembles and her moans get louder.

"Ooh, fuck! I'm getting close," she pants, her voice shaky.

You intensify your assault, sucking on her clit while inserting two fingers inside her.

"Are you gonna cum?" you ask, staring right into her eyes.

"I'm… I'm close," she whimpers, her voice barely audible.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes… Yes! I want to cum!" she gasps, her hips bucking.

As her screams go a few pitches higher, you let go of her. Taeyeon is left hanging, her body shaking with frustration.

"Huh? W-what the fuck?"

"I don't want you to cum yet," you explain.

"But I was so close, you fuck! You could've—"

You withdraw fully from assaulting her core, only to show her your own erection standing at full attention.

"I could've just let you cum…"

You position your shaft against her pussy, brushing her entrance.

"But I want to do it…"

You rub your shaft against her wet slit, making her groan.

"When I'm inside you."

"Oh f-fuck," she bites her lip, anticipating your next move.

"This is what you wanted all along, right?"

You press your tip against her entrance, and her eyes widen.

"Yes. You finally get—ooh!"

You continue to tease her, rubbing your cock against her entrance.

"Then, shall I?"

"Yes. I want you to—agh fuck!"

"Tell me how much you want it."

"I… I want it! I want you to fuck me!"

You continue to tease her, pushing the tip of your cock into her, making her moan.

"I don't think you're sincere, noona," you tease, pushing your cock further into her.

"Fuck you! Stop teasing me and start fucking me, you asshole!" she cries out in desperation.

"Then tell it to me like you mean it," you tell her, tapping her entrance with your length.

Her hips then shake as if begging for something. Her breathing is heavy, and her eyes are filled with lust and need.

"Please… I need it," she whimpers, her voice shaking and full of need.

"Then say it, Taeyeon."

She grits her teeth, and her eyes glaring at you, filled with both anger and frustration.

"Fuck me, alright? Fuck me like you mean it! I want you to fill me up and make me cum! Make me scream! Make me fucking lose my mind! I need it! I need your fucking dick inside me! Right. Fucking. Now!"

Without warning, you push your cock into her, eliciting a cry of both pain and pleasure from her.

"You mean like this?"

"Ah! Ahh fuck!"

You slam your cock into her, and she moans, her body shuddering.

"Enjoying this, aren't you, noona?"

"Fuck… I'm really gonna cum!"

Her back arches and her hands grip the bench. You continue to fuck her, and her moans get louder. You can feel her pussy tightening around your cock, and her body trembles.

"Shit! Shit! I'm cumming—ahh!"

Taeyeon screams, her body quaking in pleasure as her orgasm rocks through her body. Excess fluids gush from her core, coating your shaft and dribbling onto the bench, until it creates a small puddle underneath. You can't help but smile as you watch her, her expression filled with pure ecstasy.

She then falls limp, her body relaxing as her orgasm subsides. She looks at you, a satisfied smile on her face.

"How was it, noona? Was it good?"

"That was… Incredible," she manages to say, her voice still shaky.

"I'm glad I was able to satisfy you," you chuckle, pulling her into an embrace.

"Yeah… You did good for a newbie," she smirks, chuckling.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. But you still have a lot to—ooh!"

You slam your cock into her, catching her by surprise.

"You say that but…"

You thrust in and out, and her eyes widen.

"Looks like you're losing your mind…"

"Oh fuck."

"To a virgin," you slam your cock deep inside her, her body shaking.

"Ahh! This fucking cock! Ahh!"

"So, tell me… What was that you said again?"

You pound her relentlessly, and her moans get louder. Her body shakes, and her breathing is ragged. For a stick-up mentor and tennis partner, she sure is enjoying her role reversal.

"I… I can't… Fuck! Oh, shit!"

"Pretty please?" you ask, slowing down the pace of your thrusts.

"N-no! No! Please don't slow down!" she pleads, her voice trembling.

"Then say it."

"Oh fuck you—ahh! I can't take it anymore!"

"I can do this all day."

"Agh! You asshole!"

You slam into her, and she screams, her body convulsing.

"Fuck! Not that spot!"

"Say it, Taeyeon. Say it."

With her face painted red in anger and embarrassment, she gives in.

"F-fine. Fine! You… I love your fucking cock! Your fucking virgin cock!" she screams at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the court.

"That's it. Let everyone hear you."

"Oh, fuck. I fucking love you," she moans, her voice dripping with need.

Her last few words catch you off-guard, but the sight of her drunk-hazed face and her pleasured moans make you forget it almost immediately.

"Then I'm yours."

You slam into her once more, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. With arms around your back, she pulls you in as she incoherently screams into your ear. Taeyeon has finally lost her mind, and you love to see it.

"Oh fuhg… It'sh sho gud!"

"What is good, huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock… Your cock ish sho gud," she whimpers, her body spasming.

"And how does my cock feel inside you?"

"Sho big… It'sh filling my pusshy sho mush!"

"And whose is it?"

"Yoursh! All yours! My pusshy ish yoursh!"

"I can't quite hear you, noona."

"Your pusshy! It'sh all yoursh!"

"Good. Keep telling me. I love to hear it."

"Aahhh… Y-your cock… Fuck me more!"

You fuck her senseless, and her body writhes in pleasure. She continues to babble nonsense, her mind gone blank from the pleasure. You continue to slam into her, her tight cunt sucking in your shaft. You can feel her walls clenching, her pussy desperate to milk your cock.

"Taeyeon-noona, fuck… You feel so good."

"Aah! More! Give me more!"

"You want more? How about this?"

You then pick her up and fuck her as she's suspended in the air. Her eyes widen, and her mouth is agape.

"Oh fuhk… No. No!

She screams, and her legs wrap around your waist. You hold onto her tight, and your pace quickens.

"Oh, shit! You're sho deep!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Ahh… Y-yesh… More… Harder!"

"As you wish, noona."

You increase your pace, slamming into her faster and harder. With her light, small frame, you can go deeper than before, as if it's nothing. Or maybe all that rigorous training is finally paying off.

"Oh fuck! Fuck!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Y-yesh… I like it…"

"Good. Now, let me give you a reward."

You thrust faster and deeper, and her moans get louder. And as you do, you can feel your balls churn, the pressure building within them.

"Oh, fuck. Taeyeon-noona, I'm going to cum soon," you warn her, feeling the sensation rising.

"Yesh… Ghiv me your cum!"

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Yesh! Let me have it!"

"Alright then."

You amp up the pace as you reach your climax, and your thrusts get harder and faster. Her body is shaking, and her voice cracks as she moans uncontrollably.

"Oh fuhk! Here it cumsh!"

You slam into her one last time, burying your cock deep inside her. With a loud moan, you erupt, unloading a torrent of hot, thick cum. She screams, her voice ringing through the court, as your load fills her up, flooding her womb with seed. She clenches her eyes shut, and her hands grip your shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"Shit, noona… I can't stop!"

"Jush giv it all to me!"

You keep pouring into her, not stopping for a moment. Her body shakes, and her pussy tightens, squeezing out every last drop. You feel like you're being squeezed dry. Painful, yes, but you can't help but moan at the overwhelming pleasure.

"Oh fuck… I think I'm done…" you finally gasp, your thrusts slowing down.

"Ahh… So mush cum…" she sighs, her voice breathy and sultry.

You pull out of her, and her eyes are unfocused. A deluge of white ooze seeps out of her pink hole, a mixture of your fluids and hers. You can't believe the amount you have ejected, and neither can Taeyeon, as it creates a larger puddle on the ground.

"Holy shit," she gasps, her glazed eyes widening with disbelief.

"Fuck… I think I went overboard," you tell her, watching your semen flow out of her.

"You let out… So much…" she breathes, her weak body barely holding her upright.

"Well, I couldn't control myself. Not with you."

"Hahh… Thanks," she smiles, a hint of pride in her tone.

You both catch your breaths, the smell of sex hanging heavily in the air. Your body tells you that you've exhausted your reserves, and maybe so did Taeyeon's. But the sight and sound of your previous actions still linger in your head and your desire for more remains.

"Say… Noona…"

"Yeah."

Your shaft slowly stands back up, throbbing at her entrance and eager to continue. She lets out a soft gasp as she notices your eagerness. You can see the hesitation in her eyes, fueling your hunger even more.

"Can we?"

"You're restless today, aren't you?" she giggles.

"Can't help it," you grin, rubbing your length against her slit.

"Fuck… That feels so good," she moans, closing her eyes.

"So? Can we?"

"Hmmm… Alright. I guess one more time wouldn't hurt."

"Thank you," you tell her, a big grin forming on your face.

"So, what do you want to—whoa!"

Before she could finish, you swiftly lowered her to the ground and spread her legs apart. You position yourself in front of her, your shaft poised and ready. She looks at your erection, her face flushing a shade of red.

"Fuck… Here we go again," she sighs, anticipation in her eyes.

You then guide your shaft into her, and she whimpers, her pussy swallowing you whole.

"Urgh! You're so fucking tight, noona!"

"More like you're too fucking big," she grunts, her walls straining to accommodate your girth.

"And you're loving it," you reply, smiling sheepishly.

"Mhmm…" she nods, biting her lip.

"That's what I like to hear," you smirk, and without warning, start thrusting.

"Ahh! Oh shit! Fuck me harder!"

You comply, slamming your cock into her at a rapid pace. Her voice echoes through the court, a melody that fills you with immense satisfaction. The sound of her skin slapping against yours only adds to the pleasure, and you find yourself thrusting even harder.

"Fuck… Yes… Harder! Fucking pound my pussy!"

You slam into her faster, harder, and deeper. Her body writhes with pleasure, her hips bucking and her legs quivering. She can't help but wrap her arms around you, her hands digging into your skin. Her legs also have you locked in, the intensity of her hold surprising.

"Shit, Taeyeon-noona… You're so good," you groan, relishing the tightness of her pussy.

"Yes! Fuck! Right there! Keep fucking me like that!" she cries, her voice cracking.

"Here? Like this?"

You hit a spot inside her, and her body jolts.

"Aghh! Yes! There! Right fucking there!"

"You like that?"

"Yes! Fuck! I fucking love it!"

You continue to slam into her, wild like a beast in heat, hitting the same spot over and over again. She can't stop screaming, her voice cracking and her body shuddering with pleasure. and her pussy clenches around you, tightening even more. You can't help but let out a groan, the sensation driving you mad. You feel her orgasm coming, and you're not far behind.

"Shit… Noona, I'm gonna cum again!"

"Me too… Me too!"

"Hrgh! Here it goes! Take it all!"

"Yes! Cum with me! Cum inside me! Fill me up with your fucking cum!"

You feel the pressure rising, and you can't hold it any longer. You ram your cock deep into her, and with one last thrust, you let out a primal roar, releasing a torrent of hot cum into her. She screams, her voice ringing through the court as your thick load fills her up once again.

She cums right after, her pussy convulsing around your cock, unleashing a flood of her own juices. As if a dam had been burst, her fluids flowed freely, gushing out of her pussy and coating your cock. It's as if you're drowning, the intensity is overwhelming.

"Oh fukh! There'sh sho mush!"

"Taeyeon… You're so… Tight!" you gasp, your cock trapped by her pussy.

Not that you can, nor that you could. Your hips continue to buck, the pleasure almost unbearable. It's as if her cunt is trying to squeeze every last drop out of you, and it's succeeding. You keep pouring into her, filling her womb up to the brim.

"Ahh! It'sh not shtopping! Your cum ish sho mush!"

As your thrusts come to a halt, you slam your cock one last time, burying yourself deep inside her. Excess fluid squirts out of her, adding to the already impressive puddle underneath you. You can feel her pussy milking your shaft, squeezing out the last drop of cum.

After what seems like an eternity, your orgasm subsides, and you slowly pull out of her, your cock still oozing with cum. She sighs, and a copious amount of white liquid drips from her entrance. A mixture of both your cum and hers. After your earlier outburst, you can't believe how much you manage to let out, and neither could she.

"Fughk… Sho mush…" she pants, her eyes glassy.

"Noona… That was intense," you tell her, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuhk. Yes… I feel sho dihzzy."

You can't help but chuckle at her expression, her face flushed with exhaustion.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah… I guesh," she mumbles, a sleepy smile spreading across her face.

You then carry her as you sit on the bench, her exhausted body resting against yours. With her remaining strength, she slowly wraps her arms around your back, pulling herself closer. You reciprocate, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"Ow, ow!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"You're hugging me too hard!"

"Oh. Sorry. I went overboard, noona."

"Heh. Don't be," she laughs, nuzzling against you.

The two of you spend some time recovering from your intense session, the cool breeze a nice reprieve from the sweltering. She then looks up at you, her eyes full of desire.

"What? Do you want more?" you ask.

"No, I'm tired… Just hold me, okay?"

"If you say so," you chuckle, giving her a soft peck on the forehead.

She giggles, snuggling against you.

"We were kinda loud, weren't we?"

"Maybe."

"Do you think someone saw us?"

"I hope not," you chuckle, rubbing her shoulders.

"I do!"

From somewhere on the bleachers, a man's voice suddenly blurts out, emerges, the sound of his shoes echoing through the court. Your heart sinks as the two of you search for the source, finding a man sitting on the bleachers.

"Oh shit. There was someone," you gasp, your face flushing with embarrassment.

"Sorry for not telling you two," the stranger, wearing what might me a janitor's uniform, apologizes, looking rather bashful.

"How long were you there?" Taeyeon asks, yelling, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

"I heard screaming and moaning, so I went to check it out. And there I saw the two of you going at it."

"And you didn't stop us?" she retorts.

"Why would I? You lovebirds seem to be enjoying it," the stranger says, his tone nonchalant.

You and Taeyeon then exchanged glances, your faces blushing red.

"And besides…"

The two of you look back at the stranger.

"Security here doesn't give a shit during these hours."

"Really? Do they not monitor the cameras?"

"They do."

You both shudder at his response.

"But they'd rather get some shut-eye than deal with any after-hours shenanigans," he answers, chuckling at his own statement.

"So… Do they not care about what happens here?"

"Are you crazy? We've seen enough of that stuff already! It's common during these hours."

The stranger's words echoed in your ears, leaving you both stunned and relieved by the realization that your bold escapade wasn't as discreet as you

"Heh. I guess I did pick the right time---ow!"

Taeyeon suddenly hits you in between your playful comment with a playful yet embarrassed smirk on her face.

"You sonovabitch! You let people watch us? In public, of all places? I hate you!"

"Hey! Hey! It was your idea to have some fun in public," you protest, rubbing your arm where she hit you.

"But you made the reservation! You sneaky fuck… You probably knew about this!"

She continues to scold you, her words laced with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. For such a soft punch, they sure are quite painful.

"No, I swear! I didn't know anyone would be here!"

"I swear, the next time you have your way with me, I will…"

"Hey. Don't blame me! You pulled me in on this!"

"Why you…"

"Before you lovers continue to be all playful and whatnot…" the janitor interrupts, "You might want to pack things up."

"Huh?" the two of you ask in unison.

He then points towards the sky as the dawning sun begins to peek over the horizon. You quickly check the time on your phone and realize that the time you reserved for your outdoor rendezvous is nearly up. With your exhausted bodies and flushed faces, you hurriedly gather your belongings, discarded clothes and all, trying your best to fix yourselves as fast and as composed as possible.

"What about the mess?" Taeyeon suddenly blurts out, her cheeks still flushed from the recent activities.

"What mess?" you ask, your focus shifting between the looming sunrise and Taeyeon's concerned expression.

"This mess!" She gestures towards the puddles of sweat and other bodily fluids that soak the bench and the concrete ground beneath it.

You exchange a panicked glance, realizing the evidence of your passionate encounter is scattered for all to see.

"What are we gonna do with this?" she exclaims, worry evident in her voice.

"Fuck… Uhh, shit! Gimme a sec…"

You quickly think of ways to resolve the situation.

"Hey! Don't worry about that," the janitor calls out, waving his hand dismissively.

"What? You're gonna clean all this?" you ask, a mix of relief and surprise in your voice.

"Uhh… Yeah! That's my job," he chuckles.

"Well… Thank you, sir!" you yell, waving your hand at him.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" Taeyeon cries out, her voice ringing with relief. She then pulls your arm, nudging you to leave the scene with her. "We have to go!"

You and Taeyeon then rush towards the exit, your hearts pounding with a mix of exhilaration and nervousness. From what was initially a harmless tennis practice session, things took an unexpectedly erotic turn, allowing you and your partner to unleash all your pent-up desires in a frisky and uninhibited display of passion. Fucking on a public tennis court was definitely not part of the plan, but it was an experience neither of you would soon forget.

"Ugh… Walking without underwear is the worst," you groan as you and Taeyeon hurriedly walk outside of the building, your exhausted dick swaying freely beneath your shorts.

"You think? I haven't even put anything underneath in a hurry!" she replies, frustration lacing her voice. Her breasts bounce under her clothes with each hurried step. "Hngh… I can feel some of your cum dripping down my thighs."

"It does?" you ask, shocked and curious, leaning in to inspect her arousing situation. "Lemme see…"

She then prepares to swing her arm to hit you. Her face furious yet blushing.

"Don't you even dare!"

"Alright, alright. My bad," you chuckle, raising your hands in surrender.

As the sight of the parking lot comes into view, the two of you sprint towards your car, not minding of anything else around. You quickly open the passenger door for Taeyeon, and she jumps in eagerly. You then jump into the driver's seat, heart pounding with nervousness and you start the engine and leave the place for good.

"Right," you breathe out as you adjust yourself in your seat.

"Let's go to my place," she tells you.

"Well, duh. Of course I'll drop you at your place, noona. Where else would I even…"

"No."

"Huh? What do you mean ‘no’?"

"I mean, you're all sweaty and whatnot, so…"

Twiddling with her hair, Taeyeon then looks at you with a coy expression on her face.

"If you want… You can take a shower at my place. I wouldn’t mind.”

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author’s Notes:

And that's another SNSD member written down! I'm halfway there... Maybe. I really can't imagine her other than the "Noona You'd Like to Date" and with my renewed interest over the "Prince of Tennis" series, I thought I'd give this idea a shot. I don't know much about tennis tho... So I hope I did a decent job at least. 🙏

Also... Some of you may not know this, but a few hours from now is my Queen Taeyeon's birthday! Going 35 and still one of the hottest idols in the industry. God-fucking-damn. 🥵

I have more stories lined up (and waiting to be written by yours truly OMFG I hate myself) and I'm very eager to share them to everyone. The "Spotlight" series is still. Don't worry. I didn't forget about it and hopefully I don't. I just thought of making stories of other idols in between to break it up a bit.

Once again, thank you to @capslocked and @sparkynsfws for your help in polishing this story, as well as to @braaan for yet another fire poster. Thank you so much! 🤗

Thank you for reading! 🙇

#smut #kpopfanfiction #kpopfanfic #kpopsmut #snsdsmut #taeyeonsmut #readerinsert #malereader

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flemingsfreckles · 30 days

Text

Physio’s Daughter

Jessie Fleming x Physio!Reader

Preview: Reader is following in her mother’s footsteps in becoming a physiotherapist and gets the opportunity to spend the afternoon with the Canadian women’s soccer team.

Warnings: none

WC: 3.7k

A/N: this is going to be a few parts

You couldn’t believe you were attending ‘bring your kid to work day’ with your mom as a 22 year old but here you were, in the car on the way to her work.

“Are you sure I’m not too old to be coming with you?” You questioned your mom.

“It’ll be just like going to your clinical rotations. Plus you can put it on your resume, so it's really just helping you.” That’s how your mom had tried to convince you that you’d have fun coming to work with her. “Plus I talked with my boss, he said as of now we have an extra spot on the physio team to take someone to the Olympics, if you do well today, maybe it could be you.”

“Wouldn’t you want someone who's more qualified, not just a student?” You were in the process of obtaining your certification as a physiotherapist. You had finished your bachelor’s degree and were in the middle of your post graduate athletic therapy program.

“We have all the staff we need, they think bringing on someone young might be good. The players might like having someone closer to their age, not just all 40 and 50 year olds on their staff. Plus you’re plenty qualified, we have students in and out of the facility all the time.”

As a kid you always tagged along with your mom, you didn't have much of a choice, having a single mom who worked late hours in secondary schools meant your evenings were spent in her training room or on the sidelines of games. The older you got, the less you went with your mom, opting to stay home or spend time with friends instead of accompanying her at work. When you moved out to go to university you had chosen to follow in your Mom’s footsteps, intending to become a physiotherapist as well. At the same time you moved out, your Mom took on a new job, one that allowed her to travel more, a job with the Canada’s Women’s Soccer Team.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend the day with your mom, you were interested in seeing her work, it was more that you knew you'd be the oldest “kid” who was at her work, a lot of her other staff had either young children or kids that had moved away and were on with their own lives.

The ride to the training facility was short, you got out of the car, and walked into the front door. You followed your mom around the facility, having no idea where to go. She walked you down and around various hallways, saying hello to the other staff who passed with their small children. You just would give a polite hello and a wave before continuing down the hall.

It was a weird feeling, walking into a room of players you recognized from TV, players who were well known across the country and the world, and yet they greeted your Mom with a hello and questions about her weekend, as if they were friends.

“That is my daughter, she thinks she's too old to be here but she's studying to be a physio too so I figured I'd bring her here and get some free labor.” You hear your mom joking with the two players standing in front of her, she's pointing at you over her shoulder and the two players who you recognized to be Janine Beckie and Ashley Lawrence were looking over at you. You politely wave and move over in their direction.

“Hi.” Not knowing what to say to them, you just keep it short.

They both introduce themselves to you, you assume just being polite of them, it would be hard to not know who they were. One of the other physios comes in, taking Ashley to get taped, your mom taking Janine to work on her knee. Not sure what to do with yourself you just stand back, as if you were back to being a shy 6 year old in a new environment hiding behind your mom. You watch your mom work, she moves effortlessly, doing tasks in seconds that would take you minutes. You always admired your Mom at her work but you had a new appreciation now that you had begun school and realized how much work and time it took to learn everything.

Players come and go, getting various treatments, keeping the staff busy. You watch around, seeing the rest of the staff, how they work with the players, how they all seemed so relaxed and at ease.

“Hi Jessie, how are you, what do you need today?” Your mom looks past you toward the door where Jessie Fleming had walked in. Obviously you knew who she was, her olympic heroics from many years ago making her a Canadian household name. On top of her soccer talent that drew your attention as a kid, her appearance definitely didn't hurt. You had always found her pretty, a silly little school girl crush when you were younger watching her on TV as she played as a teenager, something that you had forgotten about over the years but her standing in front of you brought it all back up.

“Hi, I’m doing well. Can I just get my calf worked out? I’ve been having some tightness.” She looked at your mom, a polite smile across her face, she pointed at the empty table as she asked.

“Can you handle that?” You realize your mom is looking at you, asking you to help with Jessie as the rest of the staff is held up with other players. She’s asking you to help

“Um, yeah, sure.” You weren’t going to say no, plus you could handle a simple massage.

“Jessie, this is my daughter, she’s a physio student and plenty qualified to massage your calf, I promise.” You roll your eyes at your mom’s comment, feeling embarrassed that she has to explain that you’re able to help. You wash your hands and walk over to the table Jessie had sat down on.

“Hi, I’m Jessie.” She introduces herself, her hand extended for a handshake, you can't help but let out a small laugh at the fact that she of all people is introducing herself.

“I know who you are.” Your hand meets hers taking her handshake and you quickly introduce yourself to her. Her hand is soft but her handshake is firm, it only lasts a second before you pull back, pointing to her legs.

“Which calf?” You look at her. She points to her left before taking off her sock and she rolls over onto her stomach shifting up the table so that just her foot is hanging off the edge. You grab lotion and rub it into your hands before placing your hands slowly onto Jessie’s leg. You take a few passes of your hands over her leg before starting to dig into the muscle. It doesn't take you long to find the knot that is resting in her leg, focusing on it. You feel Jessie clench her muscle and slightly pull her leg away. You quickly lighten the pressure you were putting on her and you look at the direction of her face. You see a small grimace across her face.

“Are you good?” The last thing you want is to hurt the captain of the team, that probably wouldn't go over well with anyone.

“Yeah it's just sore. I’ve had some previous injury with it.” You knew that, you knew about most of the players' previous injuries, they were publicly announced anyway and you liked to keep up with your mom on what she was doing at work.

“Sorry.” Not sure if it's appropriate to apologize, you do it anyway.

“Oh don’t be, it’s never been a huge injury so I’m lucky. Unless you were saying sorry about the soreness, but then don’t worry, it’s sort of a good hurt I guess.” She stumbles a bit with their words, looking back at you over her shoulder. With her confirmation that the pain wasn’t bad, you return your pressure to her leg, working your fingers deep into her skin.

“Is she doing alright Jessie?” The voice of your Mom comes from behind you, you turn to see her walking up toward you, finished with the other athletes.

“She might be better than you.” Jessie laughs joking with your mom. “No but seriously she's doing great.”

“I taught her well then.” Your mom gives you a pat on the shoulder before walking away and moving to a desk to do some paperwork.

You finish up with Jessie’s calf, letting her know she should be good to go, the knot being worked out. She stands up with a smile and thanks you for the help. She uses your name when she thanks you which causes a small blush to come across your cheeks. You can't keep your eyes off of her as she walks out to head to the field. When she turns the corner and out of your sight you shake your head, trying to clear your mind as you feel the small childhood crush come crawling back up.

You clean up the table you had been working on, putting the lotion away and wiping down the table with sanitizer. Moving over to where your mom was working, she was completing reports for each of the players who had come in for treatment, she passed them to you to file once she’s completed with them. When the paperwork is done you follow her out to the pitch. You find yourself sitting on the bench, watching as the players work through drills, your mom occasionally going to chat with the coaching staff or other physios.

You couldn't help but watch Jessie, watching how effortlessly she made moving the ball look, how much power and control she had on the ball, it was fascinating. On a couple of occasions you found yourself admiring her physique a little too much, watching as her muscles twitch with every movement. You also started to notice she was favoring her weight on her right leg the longer practice went on.

“Mom.” You get your mom’s attention, not wanting to make the call yourself on if Jessie’s movements were unusual. “Does Fleming usually favor her right leg?”

“What?” She moves over closer to you, looking out to the field in the direction of Jessie. You both watch as Jessie takes another pass, moving upfield with the ball. “Oh, no she doesn't, I mean she prefers her right foot, but not like that.”

At the next water break you see your mom sitting in front of Jessie, hand on her calf, you watch as they talk about your mom maneuvering her leg. When the team moves back to the field, the players and coaches bring out their kids, letting them join in on games. Jessie stays sitting, now talking with your mom and the coach. She then stands up, your mom following her in your direction.

“Can you take her inside? I want to be overcautious and treat her for a calf strain, heat pack, use the TENS unit, then have her roll out, ice and tape.” Your mom throws a laundry list of tasks at you.

“Of course.” You stand up, grabbing your water and phone from next to you before heading in the direction of the physio room.

“Sorry you're getting stuck with me again.” You apologize to Jessie, trying to make small talk with the girl and also hoping she doesn’t feel like she’s getting stuck with just the student again.

“Oh, I don't mind. I wasn't really joking earlier when I said you did a better job than your mom.” She gives you a smile, you feel the flutter in your stomach. Her praise is nice, but it's the smile that she's giving you that makes your stomach flip, it’s gentle and friendly. “Don't take that the wrong way, your mom is excellent, just it was different, you were more thorough maybe, I’m not sure, it was just different.” Jessie rambles.

“That's probably because I’m more nervous about messing up than they are.” You’re honest, you were doing everything to the exact standard, following the expectations you had been taught in class, yet to develop your own style.

“You’re nervous?” She seems surprised.

“I mean, wouldn’t you be, being brought into a professional sports team and being asked to help that team's captain while you're still a student? I mean I guess you’re usually level headed, penalty machine and all.” Thankfully you have half a brain to not throw in that the captain being attractive was definitely adding to your nerves.

“Oh believe me, I was nervous for those penalties but I’ve always thought nerves are good, they show you care. How much more school do you have?” She continues with the small talk.

“Just another semester. And then licensing tests, but just a semester of school.”

“That's exciting, do you know what you are going to do after that?” You make your way into the training room, holding the door open for Jessie to walk through.

“I don’t know, probably work at some secondary school to start, work my way up to bigger teams, I'll have to see what options I have. Go ahead and sit up on the table.” You point at the table at the end of the room as you move over to where the heat packs were stored. Jessie is sitting on the table, watching you when you turn around. You lift her foot, placing the heat pack on the table before placing her calf down on top of it.

“Is it still just sore or is it more sharp now?” Turning the conversation back to a more professional topic away from the small talk about yourself.

“Just sore, feels like a sore muscle.”

“You know, it's nice to actually meet you finally.” When you give her a confused look, she continues “I just mean your mom talks a lot about you.”

“Oh that's embarrassing.” You regret saying it as soon as it comes out of your mouth, you loved your mom, you know you shouldn’t be embarrassed about her talking about you.

“No, it's actually really sweet, I hope my parents talk about me even half as much as your mom talks about you. She’s so proud of you. You're her world.”

“Yeah, I know, it was always just the two of us. I know she misses me when I’m at school, I feel bad leaving her sometimes.” You look down, then realize youre probably giving way too much information to someone who likely doesn't care. “Sorry, I don't mean to talk about my personal stuff.”

“No problem, I don't mind, it's nice talking to you,” she quickly corrects her sentence “to someone closer to my age.”

You pull up a stool and sit with Jessie while she uses the heat pack. When the heat pack starts to cool off you slide over and start digging around for the TENS unit your mom recommended. When you’ve opened your third cabinet and had no luck finding it Jessie speaks up.

“They keep the TENS over there.” She points across the room to a different cabinet. You push up off the stool and move over to where she pointed, opening a drawer and finding it quickly.

“Sorry, I obviously don’t know where anything is, I didn't have time to really get acclimated this morning.” You feel embarrassed, already feeling inferior being the student but now being clueless and having to have Jessie tell you where everything is.

“That’s alright.” She reassures you. You move back and attach the pads onto her calf, turning the machine on low and handing her the controls and tell her to leave it on for 10 minutes. She messes with the controls of a second before setting down the remote and slightly leaning back, her arms propped behind her. Not knowing what to do with yourself you stand up and move over to the other tables where rolls of tape, bandaids, scissors, and various other tools used by the trainers are askew. You tidy up, finding where things belong through your own searching.

“So what do you do outside of school?” You had gotten used to the silence that Jessie’s voice breaks.

“Well school takes up most of my time, I wish I could travel more, I miss going to new places, seeing new things. But unfortunately school turns me into a pretty boring person.”

“Maybe you’ll get a travel experience this summer eh?” You turn at her, you’re assuming she’s implying going with your mom to Paris for the Olympics. “Your mom mentioned she wanted you to come with the team.”

“Yeah she said something about it to me, I mean I’d have to have her boss, Mark, pick me, I think there’s a few people they’re looking at for the trip. She thinks it’ll be a good experience for me for future jobs. I know it would look good on a resume and all but I also don’t want to get the opportunity just because my mom is here.”

“If it means anything you have my vote, the other people have been boring.” Jessie quickly says. “Sorry that’s not what I meant. I just meant, you’ve been the best one they’ve tried out. You care the most, at least it seems like you do. Plus you’re easy to talk to, the rest were too caught up on work, some of them stressed me out just being around them. And no one else was as observant. Your mom mentioned you were the one to see I was putting my weight off center, that’s why it’s important to have fresh eyes.”

“Yeah, I just happened to be watching, I get told I’m observant a lot.” You move your hands to take the TENS unit off of her gently peeling the pads from her skin. You move to grab her the foam ball across the room, tossing it in her direction. Jessie tried to catch it, it bounces off her hands, into her face and then onto the floor.

“Oh my god sorry, I didn’t mean to throw it that hard.” You throw your hands in her direction apologizing. Moving quickly across the room you pick up the ball where it had rolled before gently placing it in her hand.

“Nope, that was my fault. There’s a reason I play a foot sport.” She laughs. Her laugh is beautiful, it fills the room momentarily. It makes you feel light inside.

Just as she moves to the floor to begin rolling out her calf, the training room door opens and in comes the loud crowd of her teammates. They move in all directions across the room, some moving to the ice bath, some moving to grab heat packs. Some move to take off tape, tossing it in the trash. It’s loud, conversations in every direction and you’re quickly swept away, your arm being pulled by your mom as she moves you over to where the ice cooler was. You’re instructed to make ice bags for the players who want them and help them wrap the ice wherever they want it. It’s an easy task but it takes you away from Jessie, no longer having the quiet privacy of the training room.

You wrap arms and legs and shoulders and backs and feet with ice. You can’t help but keep glancing at Jessie, she was still rolling her calf, chatting with her teammates as they walked by. On a couple instances you caught her looking back at you, she’d give a quick smile before looking away. You finish the last player requesting ice and when you look up Jessie is now sitting on the table with Mark, he’s taping her calf. A small part of you feels jealous, which is insanely stupid you tell yourself, she’s his player not yours, he’s the head trainer, you’re not even one, it should be him doing the work.

Only a few minutes later, Jessie hops off the table, giving you a wave and a shout of thanks before leaving the room. Only staff remained, the rest of the players on their way home for the day. You finish cleaning up, asking your Mom a couple of times where everything belongs, making sure nothing gets put away in the wrong place.

It feels like time has flown by in the eight hours that you have been at the training center, before you know it you’re headed out to the car with your mom, the same way you came in this morning.

“Mark wanted to extend the offer for you to spend the rest of the summer here, and for the Olympics. He’s going to give you a call tomorrow, but he gave me a heads up. It can probably count as some clinical work for school, he said he’ll just have to get the paperwork sorted. Something about high praises from a certain team captain.” Your mom nudges you with her shoulder. You look at her and you can tell she’s being suggestive with her wording.

“What?” Your cheeks begin to flush slightly. “You’re the one who kept sticking her with me.”

“I know, I also know you had a little crush when you were younger.” She teases. You just roll your eyes, not wanting to give yourself away.

“Oh my god mom that was years ago, she’s not my type.” It was true, your dating history was littered with blonde preppy girls with terrible personalities, quite literally the opposite of Jessie. Hoping that fact would help your argument that you didn’t still have a crush on Jessie and it seemed to as your mom dropped the topic.

“I know honey, I’m only kidding you. You can drive, I’m tired.” She places the keys in your hand. You don’t mind driving, you turn back looking at the facility, realizing you could be spending your summer everyday here didn’t sound like too bad of an idea.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming imagine #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt

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yesimwriting · 5 months

Note

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader

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charles-leclerc-official · 19 days

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2024 Japan Grand Prix Race Analysis

My analysis of the 2024 Japan Grand Prix. Table of contents below detailing the order of the post. We have a lot to cover as this was an eventful race so I am not going to waste time making introductions.

Table of Contents Ferrari – Race strategy: qualifying and tyre management – Charles: his qualifying and his race – Carlos: his race – In depth data and pace analysis Mclaren – Race strategy – Tyre management/Charles – Pace VCARB – Yuki: his race – Daniel: his crash with Alex Red Bull Mercedes Williams – Logan: his race – Team car problems Stake Concluding Thoughts

Ferrari

Ferrari had Carlos start in P4 and finish P3. Charles started P8 and finished P4. They both further secured Ferrari's lead for second in the constructors as well as keeping the WDC and WCC still competitive against Red Bull.

This race highlighted some areas that need to be improved on the SF-24 but more importantly it also showed some of the massive improvements that Ferrari has made in development and that is what made this race very exciting for Ferrari fans.

Once again the Ferrari strategy was great. It would have actually been good to mid if it were not for Charles having the skill and confidence to go for the one-stop strategy. But this is another race where I don't think they could have done anything better.

As it was with the starting grid positions Charles was looking at maybe getting P7 or P6 with a 2 stop strategy. And that strategy was most likely given the track and how much deg there usually is at Suzuka.

The reason Charles made it to P4 was because of his superior driving and tyre management, and Ferrari listening to him when he said he wanted to go for the one-stop strategy. They listened and it was 100% the right call on Charles’ part.

Charles outperformed what should have been possible. If you don’t believe me just look at what Max, Lando, Oscar, Checo, Mclaren, and Red Bull are saying about his tyre management. Charles in the SF-24 was the only one who could have pulled that one-stop off. Seriously, the fact that Max didn’t think he could have done it is really all you need to know. They saw that and were genuinely impressed not only by the car but by Charles, because we saw that with Carlos he was struggling more with tyre deg and that was with a two-stop approach.

So not only was this the best strategy to maximize points for Charles this race given his starting grid position, it was also just a truly phenomenal drive from Charles himself.

And once again we are seeing incredible strides being made at the Ferrari pit wall in terms of timing and strategy. The pit stops for both drivers were on point. They listened to Charles and went with the strategy he wanted and it worked!

Everything I saw this race was so promising for the trajectory of Ferrari and Charles’ season, and beyond into 2025 and 2026.

Charles: Race, Qualifying, and Free Practice

Charles ran a truly insane race. The only reason he gained all of the positions he did was because of his choice to do the one-stop and not only that but making it work! He gained every position it was possible for him to take and then some. His tyre management on this high degredation track was borderline supernatural.

Charles pulled off zero to negative tyre degradation on both sets of his tyres. (Negative deg is when faster laps are set as the tyres age) This was without question the best tyre management performance we have seen from a driver in 2024. It is something that no other driver could pull off (either due to skill, driving style, or machinery) and that is why Charles is Ferrari.

Have I waxed on long enough about Charles and his tyres? Just wait till you get to the Mclaren section.

I also have a lot more to say about his pace and tyres in the data section.

For now let's move on to some of the questions people might have about what happened to Charles in qualifying and FP3.

Charles qualifying position was decided in free practice. I want to try to be brief, so here is a quick timeline of why Charles’ didn’t have the optimal setup for qualifying (this also applies to Carlos because both Ferrari’s underperformed in qualifying, there was a difference of 1/10th between them so it really was just a matter of the field being so tight)

Suzuka is colder during the day than any race we’ve had so far this year. With the SF-24 being so good with tyre deg that is actually a problem because it means that getting the tyres to warm up takes longer.

The loss of all of FP2 due to rain was a big blow to Ferrari and especially Charles.

Charles has been having more issues getting his qualifying settings right to manage the tyre warming issue. This is due to his personal setup choices and driving style. Being gentler on the tyres in a car with less deg is leading to him underperforming in qualifying.

So we lost valuable time when Ferrari really needed to understand the SF-24 behavior in the colder Suzuka temps.

FP3: Charles and Carlos both got in some race sim laps, but only got to squeeze in 1 or 2 flying lap tests at the very end. Charles especially was frustrated by this. I believe that this came from not having the time to complete all of the program they had outlined to prep for qualifying and the race.

Going into qualifying Charles didn’t have enough data to guide his settings for Q1. They went with a certain setup they hadn’t gotten to fully test and it didn’t work. Which led to them having to send Charles out again in Q1 with a different setup on another set of softs to try to set a better lap in Q1.

In Q3 Charles only had 1 set of softs remaining to set his best lap. It was okay but not enough. I do think that over qualifying he did get settings better on the car and if he’d had another set of softs he might have made it up to P6 (possibly P5) the middle of the field was very close so I don’t think this qualifying placement and time was as bad as it looks. It certainly isn’t great, but compared to his teammate and the rest of the top teams it wasn’t so concerning.

So the lack of enough free practice to figure out the best qualifying setup for Charles in the colder temps is really what cost them here. I think this is why we saw Charles very frustrated at not having the time to do more flying laps during FP3 and Fred also not happy with the program they ran during all free practice sessions.

All of this does apply to Carlos as well. We’ve seen him qualify better in 2024 too so this was just a matter of the SF-24 settings on flying laps given the colder temps and the track.

This is a current issue for the SF-24, but it is something that can be developed and I think there are certain upgrades that will address this. It is better to have a car base that is too gentle on the tyres than the other way around. The SF-24 tyre treatment is a good base to work with. This weekend just highlighted areas where improvements need to be made. The unfortunate part was the loss of FP2 because that was going to be important for colder temp data gathering.

I want to once again now take the time to shut down some narratives about Ferrari's race specifically relating to Carlos' lap 46 pass on Charles:

The reason Charles and Ferrari let Carlos pass was because Carlos was on newer tyres and thus had overall faster lap times.

It’s insane to expect a team to keep the car that has faster pace behind. I could see it if it was a difference of 1/10th or something or if it was the last lap of the race, then it’s up for debate. That wasn’t the case here, Carlos with the tyres that were 10 laps newer was almost 1 second faster. Keeping him behind would have not only compromised his race but also possibly Charles’. We don’t want a car just hovering behind the other. As we heard on the radio the main concern was keeping Lando behind. As far as gaining significant placement this race goes we always knew Lando was going to be Charles' competition. If the cars were fighting over pace with this big of a discrepancy in the pace we would have seen disastrous results.

Charles knew this and this is why he let Carlos by. He was never intending to race Carlos(he literally said this in interviews after). With the way they started on the grid it was not going to be in the cards this race. Charles said as much and he isn’t upset about it.

“Carlos overtook Charles”: No, Charles let him pass because that was strategically optimal for both Ferrari drivers.

“Carlos’ pace was better”: No, he was on a completely different tyre strategy, the only reason he was faster is because he did two stints on mediums and then finished on newer hards. Charles overall race pace and tyre management was better. This is just a result of 1. Different starting positions and 2. Different tyre strategies. It’s very hard to do a driver-to driver comparison with blanket statements when they are on different strategies.

“Ferrari gave the order to switch with Sainz”: No, they just didn’t do that, I don’t know what race you were watching.

“They should have told Carlos to defend”: That would have been a bad strategy choice for both drivers. There is a lot more than current track position that goes into strategy calls.

"Ferrari strategy screwed Charles over again": No, Charles chose his strategy(and it was the right call). Ferrari did great in supporting him.

I don't understand why people want to run this narrative that we keep getting Silverstone 22' level strategy calls when that is just not happening.

Now Charles radio after the race may have sounded disappointed and in the heat of the moment he probably was. However in interviews after the race he was very happy with the car (I think he realized just what a good performance he put in) but also I think his big takeaway from this race was that Ferrari have given him a strong base to work with(finally) and he has been only saying more positive things since then.

Ferrari did amazing supporting both drivers. Especially Charles because it was his call to do the one-stop and they listened to him and supported him perfectly throughout running that strategy.

Carlos

Carlos ran a clean race. He gained the one position which is about what we'd expect from the car he was in and his starting position. His performance also gave us really good baseline data for the SF-24.

His race was mostly decided in qualifying and also the fact that Mclaren struggled far more than expected on this track. Ferrari initially thought he might have to fight Lando more for that position but Mclaren's struggle was Carlos' gain.

I also think that just this race in general from him and his driving style was really good data for the SF-24 to inform development and that is awesome!

I don't have a ton to add, it was good, got those WCC points for Ferrari and that's exactly what we want to see from him.

In Depth Data Analysis

The name of the game here is tyre wear. The SF-24 (especially in Charles' hands) has had phenomenal race pace and that is due to the fact that this car is so easy on the tyres. However Charles is the driver who has been able to pull this feature out of the car due to his driving style and tyre management skills.

We are going to look at a comparison of Charles' and Carlos' data to highlight exactly what was so interesting about Charles' pace. And then also adding in Max, because as the driver to beat he is a good benchmark(as well as showing the top performance of the RB-20)

Here is a comparison of lap times between Charles and Carlos, corrected for tyre age(because they were on different strategies)

For the medium tyre I used both their first medium stints. Carlos did two stints on mediums, I used his first stint for comparison because it means both tyres were subject to the same time of day and track temps and conditions.

Now the lap times themselves here aren’t as important. Carlos and Charles were in different spots on the track and Carlos was in much cleaner air even on that first stint. The real thing to look at is the way Charles lap time stays consistent, and even gets faster as the age of the tyres progresses, while Carlos starts off with his best speed and then gradually gets slower. Carlos’ pace here is an example of what we expect to see - as tyres age they get slower so his pace on these tyres is perfectly normal, by the time he got to lap 14 before he pitted he’d lost more than a second of pace on those tyres (which is normal and expected). Then we can then look at Charles who is getting almost the exact same lap time out of his 11 lap old mediums as the first lap. Where Carlos has lost more than a second, Charles has lost nothing. Furthermore you can see multiple instances of an increased speed on his previous laps, which indicates negative tyre degradation. This goes against general tyre wear behavior and can only be attributed to Charles’ skill in extending the pace of his tyres.

I want to add that both driver’s pace was excellent and that both their performances would not have been possible without the massive leap Ferrari has made with the SF-24 and race pace tyre degradation.

Again looking at the hards the actual lap time is not important here, Charles and Carlos were running very different strategies at this point. Charles was racing to extend the life of the tyres to pull off a one-stop and Carlos was trying to regain position near the front. What we are looking at is once again the way the lap times increase for Carlos steadily, and just don’t for Charles.

Charles once again was pulling essentially the same lap time on 11 lap old hards, while Carlos had lost a full second. The sheer consistency here is what is scaring the other teams.

I want to note here that none of this is meant to make Carlos look bad. I think his runs and tyre treatment were pretty good overall, but when your teammate is defying the laws of physics in the same car it can even make a good drive look not as great. But I have no issues with how Carlos managed, he gave a good example of what I would say is the base deg for the SF-24.

Now I want to compare Charles’ pace to Max’s, again correcting for tyre age.

This is helpful because this is where we can get a look at match-ups for the future, the strengths of the SF-24 compared to the RB20.

Here is where it gets interesting. Max on the hards was managing degradation amazingly, right on par with Charles.

The big difference is on the mediums. After 11 laps Max had lost over a full second of pace on the mediums and Charles had not.

This gap is where we are going to see big results come in from the SF-24 in the future. If I were Red Bull I’d be worried about this. And this is why they are also specifically worried about Charles, because we see that the SF-24 in Carlos hands is behaving as expected as far as tyre deg goes, the real threat based on the data is the combination of Charles Leclerc and the SF-24.

Deltas Δ

Now let's take a look at what the change in pace lap to lap looks like for Charles, Max and Carlos. Again using those first 11 laps on the mediums.

Lap deltas are the change in lap time lap-to-lap, and this is a metric that shows if a driver is keeping pace, gaining pace or losing pace. Positive numbers mean a loss of pace, negative numbers are a gain. This is calculated by the equation of (Lap time B - Lap time A = change in pace or the delta Δ) So it's just the time difference lap to lap. This is how we can take a look at the actual pace and correct for lap times (which are not important here)

On it's own this doesn't look like much, yes Charles is managing best, but Carlos is also ahead of Max. This is showing where the SF-24 is better than the RB-20. The fact that of these three drivers Max is the worst on this metric is notable.

However the impressive part of Charles' tyre deg is not in these first 11 laps. Because after these laps Max and Carlos had to pit because they were losing time and their tyres were done.

Charles kept going.

Here is what Charles' full stint on the mediums looked like.

Charles continued to achieve faster laps and negative deltas well into the life of the tyres, and that is what is setting him apart from Carlos and Max.

Not only was Charles achieving negative deltas, he was doing it more consistently as the tyres aged.

For comparison here is Carlos' and Max's data overlayed on Charles full medium stint.

While the first graph on the mediums shows that both Ferrari's were outperforming the RB20 in terms of deg(or at the very least Carlos was on a very similar delta to Max), this is where you see the difference in the drivers. Because Max and Carlos had to pit because they were rapidly losing performance on those tyres(see above time sheets) Charles was not, and he only improved. He more than doubled the life of his tyres in comparison to the other two.

This is the graph that really matters because it shows what each driver was able to do with one set of mediums. And as you can see it's not even close.

This is where you can see the impact of the negative deg over time. Compared to the normal deg we see with Max and Carlos it serves to highlight exactly how outside of the norm Charles was operating.

Charles only continued to improve well beyond the other two. That's what was insane about his tyre management.

Neither Carlos or Max were going to be able to continue their pace (hence the pit)

I feel like the data really speaks for itself. Max and Carlos are good comparisons here, Carlos is a good driver in the same car as Charles, and Max is the current top driver on the grid and is known for his tyre management.

I want to finish this section with the sentence that is chilling the blood of every other driver and TP on the grid: Charles set his fastest lap of his race on 25 lap old hards.

Mclaren

So what happened to Mclaren?

A lot of people were expecting Mclaren to be the second strongest team on this track. And qualifying certainly made it look like that might be the case. With Lando being ahead of Carlos in P3 and Oscar being ahead of Charles in P6 on the starting grid.

So why did both Mclarens get easily defeated by the Ferraris?

I think there are 2 main reasons.

The Mclaren car is not even close to the SF-24 when it comes to tyre deg, that car loses pace much faster so it just cannot fight when a Ferrari comes up behind it.

Charles 1 stop strategy really messed up the team's pit strategy with Lando.

In Mclaren’s defense no one thought anyone would be crazy enough to try a 1 stop around Suzuka, let alone have zero tyre deg on a high deg track.

They seemed to be managing their pit strategy with Lando under the assumption that Charles was going to pit twice, and I think they were very worried about an undercut in the pits (after they didn’t get away with it in Australia I think they were very keen to make sure they kept their position)

But Charles didn’t do a 2 stop strategy. He stayed out and his pace on the hards was unbelievable.

There was really no way for them to see that coming. It’s kind of hard when your main competition decides this is the weekend he’s going to challenge the laws of physics.

(And you thought I was done talking about Charles’ tyre strategy)

Here is a graph of Lando vs Carlos. That was the spot he lost, and you can see that the pit strategy is really what cost Lando the spot. Carlos came behind him on much fresher tyres and by then he'd lost the pace. He pitted too early, and that was due to Mclaren not understanding that Charles is on another level.

His pace was okay on newer tyres, but once they age the drop off was pretty bad. So the Mclaren car needs to improve in the tyre deg department if they want to see either of their drivers beat a Ferrari any time this year.

Furthermore Oscar once again struggled more because he is still the weaker of the two Mclarens when it comes to tyre deg, and on this track that really showed.

But I think the fact that Mclaren kept trying to figure out when Charles was going to pit for his second stint and then he just didn’t really threw them off and had them making some weird pit calls.

VCARB

Yuki

Yuki ran what was in my opinion the second most impressive drive of the race. He qualified P10 and finished P10. However to keep that position he pulled of some truly perfect overtakes. He was fighting to finally get that home race point. I was so excited seeing him put on that good of a show for his home fans.

In this race he became the first Japanese driver to score home race points since 2012, and that is just so exciting for Yuki and his fans. It really made that single point mean a lot. I don't think I have ever been more excited for a P10!

Yuki has really been showing what the VCARB car is capable of and it looks really promising. He seems comfortable and I think we will be seeing a lot more points from him this season.

Daniel: Crash with Albon and DNF

Going to be covering Alex and Daniel's crash this section.

On lap 1, Daniel and Alex made contact going into turn 3, resulting in both cars going off the track and ending up in the barriers. Both drivers had to retire from the race.

To me this looked like a result of crowding into that turn in the mid field with neither driver at significant fault. I don't think Daniel was trying to push Alex wide, and I also don't think that Alex mistook that corner. The FIA and stewards agree and Alex and Daniel's story of what happened make sense.

Going into the turn Daniel had the outside line, and he was trying to give room to the Aston Martin(Lance) on his inside. He didn't see Alex on his outside and his wheel made contact with Alex's front wing, causing his car to spin and pushing Alex of the line and into the gravel.

Alex thought he had the outside line to overtake and was in the process of attempting that when Daniel went to give space on the inside, this resulted in the contact and Daniel forcing him wide.

This crash really just was a result of crowding in that corner, Daniel was trying to give space to one driver and inadvertently crowded out another. There wasn't space so he was kind of in a lose-lose situation there.

I agree with the stewards that no penalty for either driver was warranted and that this was the result of midfield crowding, and some bad luck for both drivers. It wasn't a result of bad driving on either Daniel or Alex's part. Even if Daniel had seen Alex I am not sure what he could have done if he also needed to give room to Lance.

Ultimately I am glad both drivers are uninjured. Hopefully they have some better luck in future races.

Red Bull

I don't have a ton to say about Red Bull. My comparison in the Ferrari data section is what was most interesting about this race from the data standpoint.

They didn't do much, the Red Bulls started ahead and finished ahead as expected. Max and Checo both ran a really clean race. Again showing the power of the RB-20.

I will add that this was a really good race for Checo(probably his best this year), and it was nice to see him have redemption after Suzuka 2023.

Nothing terribly exciting to add. Max won again, well done Max!

Mercedes

Mercedes didn't have a great race, but considering that both their drivers DNFed in Australia it was good for the team to get some points. Lewis started in P7 and finished P9, while George started P9 and finished P7. So they swapped positions.

It seems that the Mercedes car might be better on those qualifying laps than the race pace (and even then it's qualifying has been inconsistent)

The most notable thing about Mercedes' race was when Lewis asked if he should let George pass when George came up behind him, and George did in fact make the pass. This was done simply because George's pace was better. Lewis knew this so it was best for the team.

I think that so far we have seen that the W15 is struggling in a lot of areas, and as far as drivers go George has been more comfortable in the car(could be driving style, setup, a combo of the two) than Lewis.

Both are solid drivers, and hopefully they can guide Mercedes into making improvements to the car to get them closer to top points. At this point the car Mercedes has made seems to have fallen short of expectations. Make no mistake though, Lewis and George are both drivers who are much better than the car they are in at the moment.

Williams

I covered Alex's crash with Daniel already so we are going to talk about Logan.

Logan honestly did about the best he could do in the car he had. After damaging both his front and rear wing in free practice and still using the repaired chassis from Australia his car was not in the best shape already going into the race. Additionally the Williams really struggled with grip in the rears and has been all over the place. Suzuka especially seems to have not been suited to it.

Yes on lap 41 Logan went off track into a gravel trap, but that was on a corner that had given more skilled and experienced drivers trouble this weekend so I am not going to fault him too much for that in the car he had. Better cars were having problems there too.

He did have a really strong first stint and was pulling some overtakes. Most of his positions were lost when he did get undercut by some pit stops, and then of course losing time to the gravel trap.

The win is that he finished the race and the car is intact. That may not seem like much, but given the state of things at Williams it's important.

There were some highlights for his race and I will say in terms of raw performance he has not been far off Alex this year. That car of Williams is really hindering both drivers.

Stake

Stake actually had pretty good pace overall. The car is not as bad as it has looked on paper. The main issues has been their slow pit stops (caused by incompatibility between the bolters and the tyre covers apparently) Zhou and Valtteri both showed some pretty good pace and were in positions for overtakes.

Zhou unfortunately had to retire his car due to gearbox issues.

Stake has really been a mess and we have not seen what that car can actually do in terms of performance overall, or what what their drivers are capable of in that car.

They are making attempts to address the pit stop issue and I think if they do that, then we will see both drivers picking up some P10 points at the very least.

Final Thoughts

I think we can all agree that Suzuka was the best race of the year so far from a pure racing standpoint!

Whew, that’s all I got on this race, so I will leave you with this final thought.

This race was a warning shot from Ferrari.

#lucis race analysis #japan gp 2024 #suzuka gp 2024 #formula 1 #f1 #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc #long post #I am so serious this is a long post you've been warned #lot of good data though if you are into that <3 #thank you for reading <3

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alpaca-clouds · 6 months

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Schrödinger's Disability

"Stop using your autism/adhd as an excuse!" I cannot tell you how often I got to hear that. Because here is the thing: Most people do not perceive either of those two diagnosises as "real". Even if they know they are real. Even medical professionals do not quite... understand it. Even those working with neurodivergent people.

Of course, if someone is the kinda autistic person who has also some sort of mental impairment, people perceive it as a disability - but if it does not come along with that kinda stuff, a lot of people treat it, as if we make an active choice to do or not to do something.

I told this story yesterday: When I was a kid, the following thing would always happen. When we would have art class, some of my pencils would drop from the table. Most likely because of dyspraxia. Now, when that happened I was simply not able to stop what I was doing. Because my brain cannot handle "stopping one thing to do another thing even for just a moment" very well. And it could handle it even worse when I was a kid. But also, I do not have object permanence. So, if an object does not exist within my field of vision, I just... forget about it. So, I often would just forget to pick the pencil back up. And teachers would be: "Oh, this boy is too lazy to pick up his own things." Which was not at all what was happening.

Another thing that happened to me too often is a very typical autism thing: Someone tells me something. But they do not tell me this in plain words, but rather imply it. So... I very much just not understood it. So, for example, I got told on a Discord Server by one user: "I have muted this channel." Which I understood as: "They muted this channel (maybe because it is very active)". What they said was, though: "I do not wanna see this channel, stop tagging me in this."

And mind you, this happens at work and university, too. A good example is the good old question of: "When are you done with this?" Which I usually understand as: "When are you done with this?" But what they mean to say is: "Hurry up, I need this now."

Last semester I had this happen at university even. Basically I misunderstood the final assignment, because it was not spelled out. Thankfully the professor was less of an asshole about it, than most people. I explained it to him, he understood, still got a good grade. But that tends to be more the exception than the rule.

As I said, this is a thing that even medical professionals do not really get. Even therapists do again and again fail to just communicate with autistic people clearly. They do not think about us usually being unable to understand implied meanings. We only understand the literal meaning for a lot of stuff.

And again: This is especially harsh with people like me, who superficially seem to function well in society. Heck, I have been told by professionals that I could not have ADHD or autism, because I archived a master's degree at university. Because they cannot comprehend that both ADHD and autism are a spectrum. It is not something you "either have, or have not" but it is a wide spectrum of symptoms that are differently strong in different people.

In Germany this also shows harshly when it comes to disability benefits. Because autism on its own rarely ever qualifies for disability benefits at all. Mental disabilities that might be linked to autism do. But autism on its own? No. Same goes with ADHD. And this... is kinda silly, right? Because we have studies upon studies that people with autism and ADHD often cannot work fulltime - at least not permanently. And we also know that generally neurodivergent people are more likely to be fired for a plenthora of reasons. So, yeah, we should kinda be treated like disabled, right?

And the worst part? In the parts where you get legally discriminated because of disabilities? Yeah, we still get that. We cannot immigrate into all other contries. Like, I cannot immigrate into New Zealand, for example, even though I would like too, because New Zealand discriminates against people with autism when it comes to immigration.

So... yeah. No, this sucks.

Nobody would tell a blind person overlooking a visual sign: "Stop using your blindness as an excuse". But with autistic people? It is the norm.

#autism #adhd #audhd #actually audhd #disability #disability rights #neurodiversity #neurodivergent

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slavghoul · 6 months

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Interview from Sweden Rock Magazine 10/2023

Hi, hi. There is an interview with Tobias in SRM’s newest issue, but it’s in the subscribers only section, so I thought I’d translate/share since I guess not many people will be able to get their hands on it. It is about Prequelle and it’s part of SRM’s „200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time” series. Prequelle placed #68. The other albums may have scored higher, but for now we don’t know the whole list. Either way, enjoy. Very insightful.

„Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?” Now that’s an unusual opening question. Especially when the interview is about an album that Sweden Rock Magazine's writers and qualified Swedish hard rock musicians (including Tobias Forge) have voted as one of the 200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time. The question wasn’t planned, but comes spontaneously, as a reaction to the first thing Tobias Forge says when we sit down on opposite sofas in the record company office. I'm here for a two-part interview, partly about the EP "Phantomime" (published in #6 2023), partly about "Prequelle". Neither record companies, artists, voters, nor even our writers who conduct interviews for this series of articles have any idea what placement an album has received. Interviews are often done well in advance and we simply don't want placements to leak and become public long before publication.

No Ghost album has ever been on the list before. The idea is actually to end the day with the "Prequelle" talk, but when Tobias Forge suddenly starts with a funny little comment that this album is probably the one that those who have voted think is Ghost's worst or least popular album, I just have to take the opportunity to ask the question: Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?

No, absolutely not, he says and laughs. If I'm going to be completely pragmatic, I'd say: "How many songs do we actually play from that record?" There are songs that work damn well live and sit where they should. So it's a pretty strong album.

But is this what you are basing it on? "Prequelle" was released after Ghost had become really big so it can't be compared to "Opus Eponymous" and "Infestissumam" which you don't play many songs from. I mean, no matter what kind of record you had released when "Prequelle" came out, you would still have played many songs from it and they would have worked precisely because Ghost's songs nowadays are moulded more to the arena format.

I don't know how to answer that, it's difficult. If the album had been different, it would have been. If I'm going to talk somehow both artistically and practically, I know that for every record we have become exponentially bigger. "Prequelle" was definitely no exception, but it also took us a big step forward and upwards and we became bigger and broader. To the extent that when we introduce old songs in the live set, you notice that there are elements on albums one and two that make some songs more difficult to play. Not technically, we can play the songs, but they don't work in quite the same way as the later songs, which means that there is a slight favouritism.

I asked the original question about whether you think it's Ghost's worst album only because you directly said that this means it's the least popular one.

I'm just so full of myself I assumed all the other albums are also in the top 200, which may actually be incorrect. This might be the best album and the others aren't even there, haha.

It wasn't long after "Prequelle" was released that you were self-critical of the album in interviews, saying that it was too ballad-heavy and a bit too soft. I haven't noticed that before, you being so self-critical shortly after the release.

Yes, but I still feel that way. If, as an artist, I am only going to look at the work with the criticism that one can feel towards one's own work, I think that if things had been different or if I had more time, I might have wished that I had managed to get maybe two more hard songs. Maybe one more hard song would have fit on the album and another harder song might have phased out one of the ballads. Now five years after the album came out, I know that the two ballads ("Pro Memoria" and "Life Eternal"), which I may not think are bad, are one too many. But I know that many of the people who like the band like both of them, so it's kind of a useless argument.

Who sets the length of an album? Have you set a limit, that it can't be longer than this and have no more songs than that?

No, but it must fit on an LP disc and there is a physical limit. I think the absolute pain threshold is 46 minutes and that's 23 minutes on each side. Now maybe Mikkey Dee (co-owner of Spinroad Vinyl Factory) will raise his hand here: "But I can make it longer!" And it's maybe 48 minutes, I don't know, but I do know that when a disc starts getting so full that you start getting close to the sticker, it starts to sound bad. Especially nowadays, because recordings today are so very maximalist in scope. It's one thing if you record 60s music with drums, a guitar and bass where the sound is cleaner and finer or if you play acoustic stuff with just vocals. Bob Dylan records could have eight songs on each side and it worked all the way through. But this kind of fairly compact music doesn't work well. Not only am I a militant vinyl advocate, I think we should respect the fact that most artists don't manage to create more than 45 minutes of good music on a regular basis. A lot of famous double records are not that good. I don't think the Rolling Stones "Exile On Main St" is very good. It might as well have been on one disc. And if I'm actually going to turn it into something completely mundane, I'd say that I think it's irresponsible to sit and make records with twelve songs if it results in the record being 63 minutes long and you automatically have to make a double record. It's pretty wasteful.

When you said that it's irresponsible, I thought you were going to say that it's irresponsible to print a double vinyl because of the environmental destruction that it entails.

Of course, if we're going to be completely straightforward and not do anything that harms nature, we shouldn't even release any records, so I say this with reservation. But with that in mind and for the sake of art, I think more people should embrace the actual given format that has been the most prevalent in rock history. There is a reason why a film is usually one hour and 30 minutes. You can’t take any more. There's a certain dramaturgical structure and there’s a certain comfort in it. Then the CDs came along they screwed that up, and suddenly there weren't two sides anymore but it started one way and ended another. Now that the CD is no longer important and we've gone back to vinyl, creators should follow suit and start embracing the physical rules.

Are there songs that have been rounded off just because you thought „I have to round off here, because if I continue, it won't fit on the vinyl disc"?

We actually had that problem on the last album. „Watcher In The Sky” ended the A-side and the outro is much longer on the CD and digitally. Two minutes longer I think. Much, much, much longer. It's long, noisy and has all these dives. It's a very chaotic soundscape. You get the feeling that it goes on and on, and on the vinyl it's just the beginning of an outro and then it drops almost immediately. I think that was a huge mistake.

So the overall sound quality was more important than vinyl buyers getting everything? Because you could have pressed the vinyl and it would have fit, but you would have had to compromise the sound quality.

Yes, exactly. You can get the song to just keep going until the vinyl simply runs out. Then it just starts spinning in the middle, depending on what kind of record player you have. But the problem then, if you want to anticipate events at a creative stage, is that people today buy and listen to vinyl records and are sensitive. It's quite common for people to complain that the record is broken. I don't just mean our records, but people complain a lot about the presses. If you make ten songs, it's therefore stupid to have a too thick soundscape towards the end of song number five and song number ten. If you want to be really good and old school, that's where you put a piano ballad because it's an easier sound to handle so far into the record. This is what I think about when I make records. But clearly sometimes I miscalculate.

This must cut right through the record collector Tobias Forge's whole body and soul, that "Watcher In The Sky” is shortened by two minutes on the vinyl of all versions.

Well... I don't toss and turn and wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it anymore. But when it happened, I was livid. Luckily it was just an outro. It would have been worse if it had continued with some kind of narrative into the next song. Now I can't remember in my head how long "Prequelle" is, but if I'd had to go back in time and just re-construct it, the re-construction wouldn't have had much to do with the existing material, I would have just wanted to add a scene. And it's not a scene that's missing, it's just for the sake of balance. It became asymmetrical in a way that bothers me a bit.

You've talked about this before, but it was before "Prequelle" that you really started to talk a lot about how you were thinking about what kind of new songs might suit the live show. Can you get stuck in that mindset, thinking more about what songs are needed live right now rather than creating an album that will last 30 years?

Hmm... (long pause)... The reason I'm sitting here thinking is because I'm trying to come up with examples of other bands that I think might have gone through something similar. I’m looking for examples to the answer I'm about to formulate and that is that: yes, I think there comes a point in the career when most bands make a record because they simply feel they need to… Because what we're talking about is that when you go from playing in small smoky clubs in front of an already inveterate audience that already understands the perhaps a little more chewy expression, that experience can change if you start playing in front of a larger and especially a different type of audience. When a different type of audience comes and you play in a different format, you discover that this song doesn't work very well, it doesn't sound very good and it's difficult to get the sound right. Then there's usually a record or two or three during your career when this transition happens where you start filling in with songs that work better live. Look at Piece of mind", "Powerslave" and "Somewhere in time". There's a reason why Iron Maiden didn't play a lot of the first two albums there and then, because it was easier to play the new songs. You get to that point somewhere in your career and it's very difficult to say when it is - there's no given rule and there are artists who continue to release relevant records and have an amazing ability to release new records and just play the whole new record. Well, now Iron Maiden does that and tests their audience a little bit in that way, but then they will always compensate by doing like a "best of" set the following year so everything is forgiven. Now we're in the middle of the "Impera" period here and have a very strong set, but I'm starting to feel that now that I'm about to start writing a new album, it feels like it's not really on my agenda to write three more albums that will change the live setlist ten years ahead. I think we already have the blueprint for what is Ghost's setlist, especially if you include the entire catalogue. After a while, each new record you make becomes a little less important. It's really hard to know when that point comes, but the truth is that new records don't matter in the same way. Slayer didn't have to release "Divine Intervention”. They definitely didn't have to release "Diabolus In Musica". I didn't care about it and I just wanted to hear the old stuff. If they had just come up and played "Reign In Blood" I would have been soooo happy. And that's the way it is with most bands. Nobody would be sad if the Rolling Stones came up and didn't play anything from "Emotional Rescue". And that's just the way it is. In the future, I can see a scenario where there is probably a basis to possibly build up an alternative setlist. There are so many songs that we do not play and that I have nothing against - I love them too! But it would almost be easier to build up a completely alternative setlist and run a show with only the odd songs. There are so many songs now. There's no reason not to build on that. But when I want to make a new record, it's irresponsible for me not to consider that there might have to be some songs that are a bit more direct. But it doesn't hurt me if we have more songs that we don't play live. I don't know if this answers your question...

I would actually like to ask exactly the same question again, because I wonder if you yourself feel that you get stuck during the making of the record. You said that you would have liked to include another hard song because "Prequelle" doesn't have the balance that you would have liked to have in retrospect.

Exactly, but the explanation for that has more to do with my mental capacity there and then. I simply couldn't cope. I felt that I had probably maxed out… It was probably about as much as I could do that year. That's the simple explanation. To get another song that would have fit and that would have fulfilled this requirement that I now in retrospect would have wished I had, it would have required something that I did not have there and then. The only thing that could have made it easier is if I had more time. It is difficult to reason about it, you see.

I was in the studio for a few days during the recording and it's one of the few times in all these years that I've done interviews where someone has started crying during an interview. It was quite obvious that everything that had happened with the split of the band affected you.

Yes. Of course. It did.

Is "Prequelle" a difficult album to listen to for you? Can you sit and listen to it all the way through?

Well, at the moment I have to do that from time to time, and listen to all the records, because we're just about to start rehearsing again and then I sometimes have to go back and just listen to the record to go: "Fuck, is that really how I sing?" Especially when we start rehearsing, I can be a bit like: "Damn, who changed this bit?” Then I usually sit down and it hits me: "Oh, it's me who has changed my song!" You simply do that over the years, you start singing it in a slightly different way. So sometimes I have to go back and listen, but it’s more practical. I don't think it's fun to listen them. I do it until they are finished. I listen over and over and over again and really try to listen with all the imaginary ears and all the imaginary perspectives you can have. "How would I have listened to this if I had heard it from this perspective?" Just to get as "objective" a perspective as I can until I'm satisfied, but then it's like „No, I don't want to hear this anymore". But I have to say that I think "Prequelle" is a very tolerable disc despite everything that interfered with the process. Therapeutically, it works quite well considering that we are still playing at least half of the album. For every artist there are songs that you want to play, and there are songs that you don’t want to play because they feel too personal. I don't feel that way about this one, it's more like: "Ah hell, they're part of the setlist and people like it and it sounds good. So that's what we're doing."

On a personal level, was Tom Dalgety the perfect producer for you, the way you were feeling at the time? Tom feels like the kindest, sweetest producer you can meet. He wasn't the kind of producer who pushed you very much, it was more of a nice atmosphere between you.

Yes, really, and it would have been different if Klas Åhlund, who is more confrontational, had been in the room. Now Klas and I are great mates, so it would certainly have been very therapeutic also, but it would have been a different process. If an artist comes in who is in such bad shape that they can't make a record, or a band where the main songwriter has just left them, then a Bob Ezrin goes in and says: "If you don't make the record, I'll make the record myself.” And he goes and makes Kiss "Destroyer" or Alice Cooper records. I'm not saying they didn't make them, just that you hear that Bob Ezrin made "Beth". It's a type of producer that's very different from a lot of other producers who maybe act a little bit more like buddies and cheerleaders and make the atmosphere good. Bob Ezrin doesn't care so much about the atmosphere in the room. Klas is somewhere in between, I would say. Given the condition I was in during "Prequelle", the result could probably have been different if Klas had come in. Ironically, there was actually talk of him doing it, but he didn't have the time and we'll never know how it would have turned out. I only know that it would have been different, but right there and then Tom was fantastic. I know that a lot of bands like to work with him because he is technically brilliant. He's really good at those typical sounds that people like: cool drums, guitar, bass, tone and clarity. He is also very "happy go lucky", a nice guy who sits and jokes all the time. Even if he has a bad day, it doesn't affect anyone else, which is convenient.

Let me compare it to when a writer contacts me after an interview and says "that was such a nice interview". For me, "nice" is not something positive in such a work situation and the result is often better when there is a little friction.

Mmm, and that is more Klas. There is more friction and more confrontation. And I was much better equipped for that at "Meliora" and later at "Impera". I felt better and was simply stronger. There wasn't the same survival instinct as on "Prequelle". If I think back, not about how the album turned out and how I have to live with it, but if I think back to the situation I was in, I was very anxious all the time. Even though I'm happy with the result, I wouldn't want to go through the recording again, even though Tom was great. Because it's hard to work when you're under attack. I realised that now when I made "Impera", when it was no longer like that. You are much more comfortable, it doesn't feel the same, you are more mature, you make better decisions, you are more controlled or dare to be uncontrolled. When things are this serious, you can end up in a freeze mode. Maybe that's also why there wasn't another song. The song that I miss doesn't exist because I simply squeezed out everything I had. If I had been in a different emotional state, I might have been more comfortable working out something at the last second from bits and pieces. But I felt that I really just wanted to get it done, deliver it, get back out on tour and start over again.

When you described being more mature during "Impera" you sounded like a 70-year-old, kind of like all the Aerosmith-like bands that have been fighting all their lives and now that they're in their 70s they say "we're soooo mature,” haha.

I think with all artists, especially when they're required to work in a group, there are many recordings that have been a collision with a wall because you're expected to function in a context all the time, whatever and whenever. But you do change and from one year to a few years down the line there can be a huge difference in a person's drive, hunger and priorities in life. Whether you have the same band structure as I do or whether you play in Metallica, people come in one state and they may end up in another, because you have different priorities at different times. It's unfortunately against the whole rock myth. I think that's the biggest problem for bands and businesses, that you always have this idea that if you just get to a certain stage - not just monetarily or career-wise, but you get to a certain stage of fun - then we've reached the status quo. But that is never the case! Never! There’s always something. Even in the best moments when everything is working, the band is awesome, everyone is working well, the crew is awesome, everyone is laughing, it's just a party all the time mentally, you have the world's best tour manager, everything is flowing and the tickets are selling, there will always be someone who doesn't like it and then has to break away and want to do their thing because it's no longer fun. It's usually somewhere in the lead-up to a stage where it's interesting and then once you've achieved it, it all becomes a bit boring. Just like in a relationship some people may eventually think, "well, that's a bit boring, I have to go out and do something else".

Since I was in the studio when you were laying down guitars on "Witch Image", my heart beats a little extra for that song and I thought it would be a great live song, but you've barely played it (at the time of writing it's Ghost's forty-fourth most played song live).

We did it during the "Prequelle" tour, or "A Pale Tour Named Death" as it was called. Then we did quite a few "an evening with" concerts, for better or worse. The advantage was that if you were a big fan of the band we actually played a lot of songs and actually a lot of the first albums, like "Idolatrine" - or "Witch Image". We did a set, a break and then a whole other set. That was a bit of a taste of what I was talking about earlier: doing a slightly larger set and then a slightly smaller one. You just shouldn't do it on the same night because it gets a bit stale. We played for two hours and 30 minutes or something and that wasn’t a good idea, haha. At least we did "Witch Image", but it has fallen behind a bit and it doesn't mean that we will never play it again, just that we don't do it right now. What I've been happy about is that there has been a feeling for the records that we've made recently, "Prequelle" and "Impera", that people still want to hear the new stuff. We haven't gotten to that stage that I talked about earlier when it doesn't matter anymore. Then it's very fun to try to find a new way to perform the songs, not technically, but suddenly a song like "Witch Image" might fulfill a very nice purpose between a completely new song and another song.

Let me speculate: in 30 years, I think "Rats" will be considered the great hard rock song, "Dance Macabre" the great hit and "Life Eternal" the great ballad. What do you think? Will this in the future be seen as the three big songs of the album?

Yes, that makes sense, I think. I understand that an instrumental song automatically ends up in the wake of a "best of" collection, in the sense that you do one in 30 years. I realise it's not a hit but the instrumental "Miasma" is a big part of our live show. It's strong and feels like such a keeper. Now we don't play "Life Eternal" very often actually, but it was very well received. For some reason people like to get married to it, I don’t know why, hehe. It's nice but it's also a bit like U2’s „I still haven't found what I'm looking for" and you don't use that one at a wedding. But people like it and I guess interpret it differently to me. It’s also a song that I don't think is fun to play live.

And why not?

Because I find it hard to play ballads. Physically, they don't feel the same as rock songs. I miss the "dunka dunka". Now everyone who plays music today knows what I mean - sorry, readers who don't play music - and it's that there's a small problem with having in-ear monitors. This means that you have to reach a certain frequency of beats in order to feel the music, unlike when you played at clubs with only a guitar amp behind you. You felt every single note you made and it just went through your body. Nowadays, I think it's sometimes hard when you play slow songs, because you have to trust that it sounds good, whereas when you play a rock song, you feel that it sounds good.

Does it also apply to "He Is” which is such a huge ballad, not least live?

Well, just the intro and then it gets going quite quickly and suddenly becomes a hard and rather fast-paced song. The classic ballad concept has always been that you play so-called edge beats to make it sound soft, while "He Is” is actually a rather hard-played song considering that it is a ballad. Once the drums come in – boom, boom – it's got AC/DC bite to it. It has a rock feel to it that "Life Eternal" doesn't really have. As I said, I don't think that "Life Eternal" is a lot of fun to perform, but that doesn't mean that it isn't quite good to listen to. It’s just that when I play "Dance Macabre" or "Mummy Dust" I feel that I can express myself physically more in line with what the text says and what it means.

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview #prequelle era

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wileys-russo · 6 months

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cheeky little angst to fluff blurb for leah??

leah didn't do her acl in this because i said so insensitive II l.williamson

"-so i'll rest again for a bit in bed, go to breakfast and then i think we have our team walk in a couple hours? oh! then a few of the girls are gonna go for breakfast and to the beach tomorrow before our flights since they're later at night. the beaches here are literally insane babe the water is so blue, i'll make sure to send you some photos. i'm keen for one last taste of summer before returning to the bleak dead cold of the uk." you joked with a smile, your girlfriend humming tiredly in response.

"i'm sorry baby i'm talking too much. are you sure you're okay? you played brilliantly leah really, i was so proud of you." you softly assured, as you had been for the majority of this phone call which was really annoying the blonde more than helping her to feel better as you intended.

both of you away with your respective national teams for international break you'd both been on the phone much as you could, forever attached at the hip you missed the older english girl who held your heart terribly.

however it would appear that your break was going a whole lot better than leah's, australia coming away with an 8-0 win a few days ago and england having just lost 3-2.

your chances of qualifying were looking up whilst hers seemed in a jeopardy she'd not predicted experiencing.

"i'm fine." if you would have picked up on the hidden sharpness of her words you might have caught on and changed topics, however still half asleep you missed it, having been up very early to watch your girlfriends match.

"losses happen lee it doesn't mean you girls have any less chance of qualifying, you've come back from worse yeah? heads held high and leave it in the past, same thing you tell us all each week in red babe." you tried to comfort her only your words had the opposite affect.

with the loss playing heavily on her mind and leah attributing a large portion of the blame toward herself in defence, she felt a bitter bubble of jealousy and frustration begin to build up in her throat. and before she could think any better of it, it came out suddenly like a toxic word vomit.

"yeah well some of us have actual challenges to face to qualify. we can't all get the easy draw and piss poor low ranking teams to smash 8-0, scoring hat tricks against players with half your professional experience and no funding into their programs, can we? the entire olympics qualification system is a fucking joke!" leah snapped, a few of her team mates heads swiveling toward her with a mix of frowns and surprise at her harsh tone.

silence was all that she was met with after her little outburst, you opening and closing your mouth in somewhat a state of shock at the venomous tone from your usually calm mannered and always supportive girlfriend.

"you must be tired and your flights soon. i'll call you later before warm ups?" you asked hopefully, heart hammering in your chest. "no, i'm going into the training centre soon as i get back." leah replied bluntly, clearly not intending to watch your match as you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"right. well i hope you get some rest on your flight then." and with that the line beeped signaling you ended the call, leah shoving her phone into her pocket and resting her chin on the handle of her suitcase she was currently sat on.

"leah mate...that was painful to listen to." georgia winced from beside her, keira humming in agreement. "what? she's being insensative! if she knew me she'd know i fucking hate being coddled and thats all she was doing, as well as flaunting her stupid win." leah muttered with a roll of her eyes.

"is that seriously what you think?" keira questioned, eyebrows knitted together as leah only gave a small shrug. "leah." the younger girl sighed, shaking her head.

"she barely mentioned the win to you when it happened, she spoke about her hat trick maybe once on facetime that night? she stayed in to call you like normal instead of being out for dinner celebrating with her team." keira began to lecture the blonde beside her.

"do ya know what time it is in western australia right now leah?" georgia continued on, eyes wide looking at her phone as again leah only shrugged, though a hint of guilt was just starting to creep in.

"it was 3:30 in the morning there when we kicked off and she watched the entire match and then stayed up for a few hours afterwards to call you, so that she could comfort you and try to make ya feel better." georgia lectured, leahs stern gaze beginning to crack at her words.

"then you just dismissed all of the graft she put in last match and her entire teams hard work down to something they have no control over. doesn't matter who they play leah, they deserved each win." keira continued, leah taking her bottom lip in between her teeth as she sat up and rubbed her face with her hands.

"then she gets up at 3:30 to watch your game and you tell her you aren't bothered to watch hers when its at a more than reasonable time, because you're busy feeling sorry for yourself." georgia added on, yet another blow of guilt for her to swallow.

"did you think it was insensitive when we beat them in the semi final of their home world cup, and you celebrated with your team afterwards?" keira asked with a raised eyebrow.

"nah that was different! i went right to her first to make sure she was okay and tell her how proud of her i was, and she told me to go out afterwards and went out with her own team." leah defended suddenly, shut down by the looks from her best friends either side of her.

"exactly leah, so then how is that any different than her trying to console you after this loss? and then you had to go and open your stupid hot headed mouth, stick your foot in it and probably make her feel like shit before her final international match of the break, which you all but said you wouldn't be watching. how is that fair?" keira delivered the final punch as leah crumpled, head hung in her hands with a small groan.

"yeah alright alright i get it, i've royally fucked up here." leah sighed, standing suddenly and walking off with her phone held to her ear, calling you over and over as each time the phone would ring out only affirming to her that she had really stepped in it this time.

trying you for a fifth time, urged to hurry up from her team mates as their flight was boarding leah's phone vibrated with a message as again you didn't answer.

from; lover girl i need some space please, i'll call you once i land back in london x

with a frustrated sigh leah heart reacted the message not wanting to overstep, locking her phone and hurrying over to keira who was impatiently waiting to board.

she had some serious groveling to do.

you opened and scanned through the multiple messages from leah she'd sent while obviously watching the game, withholding the urge to smile at her running commentary and complimentary words about how you and the team played.

still quite frustrated with her and still wanting space you opted not to reply, locking your phone and tucking it under your leg as you rummaged around in your backpack for your airpods.

"you're not gonna call leah?" steph asked with a look of surprise as you settled in beside her on the bus back to the hotel, where as normally you'd sit by yourself to call your girlfriend after each match like clockwork.

"nope." you answered simply, shaking your head and tucking one knee up to your chest. "what's happened?" the older girl sighed knowingly, draping an arm over the back of you as your head came to rest on her shoulder.

through the four seasons you'd played together at arsenal the two of you alongside caitlin and now kyra had become like a family, relishing in the familiar comfort of having your fellow aussies around living in a foreign country where you hardly saw your actual loved ones.

"i think we had an argument? but we didn't exactly argue." you replied, still a little in the dark yourself on what had caused leah's outburst. steph only gave you a confused stare and nodded for you to explain further as you did so, recounting your conversation with the blonde captain this morning.

"ahhh, i see." steph nodded now caught up as you hummed tiredly, the time now nearing eleven at night. "you know she loves you very much. but we both know she hardly has a filter on what she says sometimes, and she's quite potentially the most patriotic person i know both for club and country." steph chuckled, patting your shoulder.

"norf london foreva." you mocked her accent quietly with a small smile, admittedly missing it even more now you knew you'd not be speaking to her for a couple of days while you flew.

"but thats not to dismiss how harsh she was and how that would have made you feel. i think some space is a good idea, gives her some time to reflect on why you're upset and why what she said was wrong. you gonna be okay?" the brunette asked softly as the bus pulled in outside your hotel.

"yeah, i'll be fine. it's been nice being back home and seeing all the girls again, and we're going for brunch and to the beach tomorrow. i'm just focusing on that and the horrendous jetlag we're due for once we touch back down." you groaned, steph agreeing as the two of you filed off the bus.

"kyra i promise you, if you so much as breathe near me for the next twenty four hours i am going to murder you." you spoke calmly, stopping to take a deep breath as the younger girl purposefully stepped on the back of your trainer again.

you loved her dearly but it was like having your own child as she'd wound you up for hours now, giving you a brief moment of rest when she'd finally passed out on the plane. but now fully awake and in her usual tiresomely hyperactive mood she'd been kicking the back of your knees out and stepping on the back of your shoes from the moment you stepped off the plane.

"leave her be! honestly mate you're so annoying." caitlin groaned on your behalf, wrangling the girl into a tight headlock and dragging her away from you as the four of you headed out of baggage collection.

"i see your personal chauffeur has arrived." you looked up in confusion as steph elbowed you, spotting leah a hundred or so metres away. "ooo she's off to kiss her little girlfr-" kyra's sarcastic kisses and teasing words were cut short as caitlin suddenly swept her feet out from under her, sending her tumbling to the ground on her ass.

"oi!" with that the two took off chasing one another around the terminal, steph kissing your cheek and telling you to call her if you needed her as she hurried off to sort your friends out, the three of them set to take an uber together.

you watched leah nervously shift her weight from one foot to another as you slowly made your way over, her face partially hidden by the hood drawn over her head. a hoodie which you quickly recognized as one of yours, a faded black australian national team hoodie from years ago.

you also noticed she had a bunch of flowers in one hand which she immediately held out to you. "hi." leah breathed out quietly once you arrived in front of her and had taken the flowers with a mumbled thank you.

"hi." you echoed back, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and shaking your head as she offered to take it from you, the two of you wordlessly making your way out of the airport and to the car park.

you dumped your bag in the boot which she opened and closed for you, sliding into the passenger seat with a tired sigh and carefully placing the flowers on the floor between your feet as leah sat beside you, starting up the car and pulling away.

"can we talk? or do you want some time to like actually sleep and rest, you must be insanely jetlagged. i can stay at beth and viv's place tonight? give you some space." leah offered, the two of you having been living together for well over a year now.

"no it's fine, we can talk." you confirmed, adjusting your position as your head slumped against the window, eyes struggling to stay open which didn't go unnoticed by the blonde beside you.

"are you sure? you look exhausted we can-" "leah i'm sure, we need to talk."

you hadn't mean to come across as bluntly as you did given your jetlag, as you saw surprise flicker across your girlfriends face for a moment before she nodded and you mumbled a quiet apology, rubbing your eyes.

"well i'll start. firstly; i am so incredibly unbelievably sincerely sorry for what i said to you love. i was tired and frustrated with my own performance not that thats any excuse, and selfishly a little jealous of your big win when we lost. which was completely unfair because i am so so proud of you in everything that you do. i promise!" leah started, glancing over at you as she stopped at a red light and you gave her a small smile, nodding for her to continue.

"you put so many hours of extra training in to prepare for the world cup and of course thats payed off and you're finally seeing the benefits. I was bitter and selfish and i lashed out at you when you were just trying to make me feel better, like always, and i am really really sorry baby." leah continued, falling silent after as you assumed she'd finished talking.

"well firstly; you were an asshole." leah winced at that but nodded, understanding her actions were to blame here.

"but i understand you were feeling poorly after a loss, i just wish you'd communicated that with me a little better and i would have left you be with your own thoughts rather than talking your ear off and probably worsening your mood." you sighed, the blonde quick to assure she normally loved you talking her ear off.

"i just felt like i didn't understand what i'd done to cause you to be upset with me, and then you snapped about the qualifying process and you weren't entirely wrong but-"

"i was! i was wrong about that. its been the way they're done for years now and its not anything you or i are ever going to have the influence to change single handedly, and i should have never dismissed the shift you and the girls put in for that win." leah was quick to clarify before apologizing for interrupting you.

"thank you. next time please just communicate with me how you're feeling and what you need lee." you smiled tiredly, your girlfriend reaching for your hand and smiling in relief when you allowed her to take it, the blonde bringing it to her mouth and placing a few tender kisses on your knuckles as she glanced toward you.

"eyes on the road thanks charmer." you smiled tiredly, leah not letting go of your hand but dropping it to rest on the middle console, her other hand expertly maneuvering the steering wheel.

the rest of the ride home was filled with a much more comfortable silence, leah thanking her lucky stars you'd been so forgiving and remanding herself over and over for ever wronging you, smiling softly at you asleep in the seat beside her.

parking in the driveway she flicked the car off, carefully getting out and softly closing her door. she grabbed your bags out of the back and hurried them inside, dropping them in your shared bedroom and rushing back to the car, leaving the front door open.

gently opening your door she caught your body as it slid out having been leant against the door, your eyes shooting open as you inhaled sharply and sat up. "we're home baby." leah advised, affectionately rubbing your flushed cheek with her thumb as she pressed a kiss to your temple.

with a tired nod you allowed her to pull you up and out of the car, walking yourself to the front door and rubbing your eyes. you stretched as you crossed the threshold of your home, squealing as leahs hands poked at the sliver of skin which popped out as your top rode up.

"hello." you latched yourself onto her the moment she closed the front door and turned, your cheek smooshed into her shoulder as her hoodie clad arms wound tightly around you. "i really really missed you." leah sighed, swaying the two of you back and forth as you relished in the familiar warmth of her embrace.

"so i can see, you've become an honorary tillie." you teased, tugging on the sides of the hoodie as your chin moved to rest against her sternum, looking up at her in amusement. "for you my girl? anything." leah promised with a soft smitten smile, leaning down to kiss you.

"leah what is that?" you spotted a piece of cardboard on the kitchen counter over her shoulder, pulling away from her right before her lips met yours causing her to frown.

"welcome home from prison!" you read out the sign with a scoff, leahs arms folding around you from behind as her chin rested on your shoulder and you felt her body vibrate with a quiet laughter.

"thought it might be a bit too soon for the joke to land right without an apology first." leah admitted, pressing a few light kisses to the side of your neck.

"mm yeah good choice. dick!" you shoved her playfully as she continued to cling onto you, spinning you around. "may i have a proper kiss now please?" the blonde pouted, puckering her lips as you smiled, shaking your head.

"well i am all for charity and since you asked so nicely." she pinched your side for the comment, pressing her lips to yours before you could say another word.

the way her lips slotted perfectly with yours would forever make your head spin, sending you into a love drunk haze of dizziness at the euphoric feeling of kissing her. the way her bottom lip would part slightly as her hand flew to the back of your neck, her tongue slipping into your mouth as her thumb rubbed gentle circles just below your ear.

her lips always soft and welcoming, her kisses calculated and thought out, making sure that with every fleeting second you could feel how deeply she cared for you. this kiss in particular was two weeks in the making, the blonde pouring into it every inch of her adoration for you with each slight adjustment and touch, her other hand resting on your waist to draw your body even closer into hers, trapping the two of you in a cocoon of warmth and love and safety.

"welcome home." she pulled away with a light smack, pressing a few softer kisses to your swollen lips before pressing her forehead against yours, closing her eyes and hugging you tightly, anchoring you in her arms like a lost ship coming ashore.

the sea of your relationship wouldn't always be smooth, but with leah at the helm and you loyal by her side the two of you could get through pretty much anything.

"it's two now baby. do you want to sleep for a few hours and then up for dinner? and we can stay up till around maybe ten to try and reset your schedule?" your girlfriend offered sweetly, warm lips pressing against the crown of your temple with each word.

"so long as you're with me i don't mind." you sighed, head falling to her chest as you squeezed her tightly, melting the older girls heart who hugged you back just as firmly.

"well you can't sleep standing up." with that she'd bent down to grab the back of your thighs, hoisting you up. "bed or lounge baby?" the defender asked with a raised eyebrow. "not the first time you've asked me that while i'm off the ground in your arms." you smirked, kissing her nose and grinning as she scrunched it slightly.

"even half asleep with jet lag you remain a cheeky cheeky girl." leah tutted with a shake of her head and carrying you with her over to the sofa, turning around and sitting down as she pulled you to sit between her legs which stretched down its length.

"can you put the golf on please?" you mumbled tiredly, shuffling so your head was resting on leah's chest, hearing her heartbeat beneath your ear as leah smiled happily in surprise at your request. "really?"

"yeah, always sends me to sleep." you continued, closing your eyes as leah rolled hers, carding a hand through your hair but doing as you asked, nails scratching at your scalp and the english captain chuckled seeing within a few short minutes you'd fallen right back to sleep.

desite the fact she actually enjoyed watching the golf much to your horror, a few holes in, she was ashamed to admit she joined you, eyes drifting closed.

#leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso #leah williamson #woso blurbs #woso imagine #engwnt #woso fanfics

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novelistrry · 1 year

Text

She looked at the drink in her hand, suddenly feeling demure and childish holding a drink the bartender told her was called Sex on the Beach after she asked for something that doesn’t take like alcohol. He noticed her hesitation and the way her eyes flickered between his drink and her own. “Would you like to try it?”

She nodded her head yes, letting him know that she did want to try it. So badly, she wanted to try it. Not because she wanted to taste the tequila, she was sure it wasn’t very good, but because she wanted to taste where his lips pressed against the glass. She could see the subtle fog where he was placing his lips every time he would take a sip. So, he handed her his drink and when she turned the glass and pressed her lips against where they both knew his lips had once been, he murmured a small, “Christ, Y/N.”

Harry is a young professor and Y/N has never felt this kind of attraction before

Disclaimer: I didn't do a lot of editing to this, and it is also part one out of at least three!

Word Count: 14k+

Y/N was always one that was good at school work. She was punctual for class, thorough with her assignments, and would spend way more time than the average person studying for exams that she knew she would ace regardless. She flew through her undergraduate program, enjoying the learning component of school so much that she decided she would attend a graduate program.

She thought she would fly through it like she always had.

Y/N was wrong.

It was her first day in a teaching position as a graduate student, and the professor she was assisting for the semester only taught advanced level psychology classes. She thought that maybe assisting a professor in the class she was struggling most with — even though he was not her direct professor— might be helpful with bumping up her grade and understanding the content of the course.

Although Y/N was not new to this program, she was struggling with one psychology course in particular. As the opportunity arose for her to TA (the pay was minimal, but she would take anything at this point), she jumped at the offer when she realized it was a position for a class she was nearly pulling her eyelashes out over. Of course she went over it with her guidance counselor to make sure the school didn’t qualify that as an unfair advantage. She didn’t want to be scolded for thinking it was appropriate to TA for a class she was concurrently taking, but her guidance counselor quickly reassured her that as long as she didn’t TA for the professor she was taking the course with, she had absolutely nothing to worry about.

To say she was nervous was an understatement. The professor she was assisting was one she had never heard of before. With much frustration, she scoured the internet trying to find any inkling of information regarding him. There were no reviews on his teaching, no rating on how hard his course was, and the only thing she managed to find was his name (not even a picture) on the faculty website. Typically, Y/N could look up faculty and find a rating on some college website to let potential students know how hard their class was on a scale from one to five, how heavy the course load was, and if the student rating them would take a class with that professor on another occasion.

There she was, outside of his room, fifteen minutes earlier than she needed to be because she was always stressing over minuscule things (to her, five minutes early might as well be ten minutes late). Stress oozed from her pores, and she felt the tension build in her shoulders as it began sinking in that she knew nothing of the man who she would be spending quite some time with. She let out a small breath, trying to ease some of the tension in her shoulders and the way butterflies were infiltrating her brain and stomach. Y/N was in what she would call, a stress pocket. Like she had picked herself from the world and tucked herself away in a separate dimension that was only filled with stress. No happiness, no laughter, no sorrow, no anger. Simply stress. She could view the outside world from the clear stress pocket, but she couldn’t quite find a way to crawl out of it.

With one more breath and a copy of his course schedule in her hand, she flicked her gaze down and scanned it over once more preparing herself. As far as she was concerned, he had no class during this time slot and she could easily rasp her knuckles against the oak door, but a fizzle in her stomach stopped her from doing so.

What if he didn’t know he was given a TA by the school? Is that possible? She went over a few practice lines in her head to make sure she had the words flowing through her brain before she worked up the courage to knock. It was somewhat of a habit of hers. When she ordered food for takeout, she spent a few minutes rehearsing her order so the words slipped out of her mouth nicely. Otherwise, her brain became flustered, her face would heat, and her eyes would gaze down at her shoes.

Before she had the chance to rehearse what she was going to say, the door unlatched and popped right open revealing who she believed was Professor Styles. A satin shirt laid across his chest, slightly showing the tips of a tattoo she couldn’t quite make out. Long dark blue slacks covered his leg, flaring at the bottom and possibly made him look taller than he actually was.

“Thought I saw a shadow lingering outside the door,” he murmured, stepping to the side to allow space for her to walk in. “What’re you doing standing out there for so long?”

It took her brain a couple seconds to compose her thoughts. This is exactly why she always prepared what she would say in advance, because her brain was becoming foggy as he held her gaze. She couldn’t help but scan his face a little more intensely than she probably should have, noting the slight pink color to his cheeks that matches his lips, the way his green eyes had a sort of sultry look to them, and the way he brought his hand up to his jaw, scratching at the stubble growing in as he looked at her. She had to avert her eyes, otherwise she may have never been able to get the words out— his beauty was a little too intense and overwhelmingly unexpected.

Y/N doesn’t think she had ever seen anyone quite as beautiful as him. It was like an angel carved him from stone and decided the world needed a little more beauty. They planted him in the soil and grew him with the clearest spring water they could find, the sun nurturing his cheekbones and the soft brown curls that wrapped around the frame of his face so well. He was not accidental, he was planned by the Gods. Beauty that was a gift to the world.

“Sorry,” she managed to squeak out, her eyes plastered to the wall behind her as she cleared her throat to avoid any voice cracking. “I didn’t knock because I was a little early. I didn’t know if I would have been interrupting something.”

His fingers pushed the door closed once more, then turned away from her and strode to his desk with long steps. Y/N took a chance to look at him once more, familiarizing herself with his features. She could tell by the way his eyebrows furrowed and his lips curved upward that he was sure of himself. “Mmm,” the hum coming from his vocal chord raised an octave up as he looked over a piece of paper on his desk. “You wouldn’t have been interrupting anything. How can I help you?”

She glanced down at the paper in between her fingers, and realized she was gripping it a lot harder than she processed. An indentation was made in the paper where her forefinger and thumb were straining it. In a few steps, she made it to his desk and slid the paper over to him, a slight shake of her hand as she gently pushed it across the desk. He looked up at her as he noticed the tremble in her hand, but chose not to say anything about it.

“I’m your new TA for the class that’s starting in about ten minutes.” She spoke clearly, quickly removing her hand from the wood of his desk, and shoving it into her coat pocket. Y/N shifted on the backs of her heels, a tendency she had developed to self soothe in tense situations.

His face lit up in realization, a look of understanding washing across his features like he finally put the pieces together as to why a random student, (certainly not one of his own because he’s great with names and faces), was nervously standing outside of his door. Her shy gaze faltering slightly as he asked why she was lingering behind the door suddenly made sense, and the nervous hand trembling was completely understandable when he realized she was reporting for her teacher’s assistant duties for the first time ever. She was just a little nervous, and he was determined to make her warm up to the new atmosphere around her.

“Yes,” he smiled down at her, trying to make her feel welcome and comfortable. “Y/N, right? If I’m being completely honest, I forgot that I was getting an assistant today, but I’m happy you’re here!” He reached out his palm, encasing her hand in his with a firm shake.

Her hand was delicate in his, the firmness of his made her feel small and she simply wanted to melt into a puddle against the tile as she took in his excitement. He wasn’t going to be so excited when he realized that she was actually very, very bad at abnormal psychology and couldn’t, for the life of her, remember any of the terms she was supposed to. A quick heat crept up her neck and infiltrated her cheeks at the thought of him thinking she was stupid.

Y/N was not stupid. Y/N was anything but, and her greatest pet peeve was being belittled or ridiculed for her lack of knowledge because she spent a great deal of time intaking the material her professor’s provided her with. Hell, that’s how she got into grad school. It was just that abnormal psychology wasn’t her strongest course, and she couldn’t be faulted for that. She spent a lot of time studying for it, but her test scores were suffering more than she would like to admit. It could be because of her bashfulness, or maybe it was just her ego, but she couldn’t bring herself to visit her professor during office hours or even show up to the tutoring center. On the other hand, it also could have been because her professor was not the most approachable human being to exist and quickly made it known if you were inconveniencing him in any way.

When she didn’t say anything back, he sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and motioned for her to follow him. Inside his classroom was a medium sized personal office tucked in the corner. Walls and a chestnut colored door separated it from the actual learning portion of the classroom. His fingers gently tapped against the door with the red undertone as he hooked his long fingers in the door knob and pressed it down. The door swung open, revealing another girl probably the same age as Y/N sitting behind one of the two desks.

“Hi,” the girl behind the desk chirped. Her eyes were kind, and she sported big chunky glasses that suited her face well. One of the first things Y/N noticed was the subtle glow to her skin, and if she thinks a person could embody sunshine, it might just be this girl behind the desk.

“Y/N, this is my other TA, Mallory,” Professor Styles motioned toward the girl, Mallory, sitting behind the desk with a bright smile across her face. “She is also one of my TA’s for abnormal psych, but she is here with me in the mornings. I only teach abnormal psych this semester, so a couple TA’s will help me balance the workload. Sometimes your schedules may overlap for about twenty minutes or so, but whatever you’re falling behind on let Mallory know and she can pick up the following morning.” He glanced between the two girls, a smile spreading across his rose colored lips, “Same thing goes for Mallory. Whatever she needs help with, you’ll continue the task in the afternoon.”

Mallory motioned for Y/N to step inside the office, so she took the cue and walked inside. As she looked around, she noted that the office was decorated beautifully, like whoever designed the workspace must be keen on interior design. It felt more like a home than an office, really.

A green sofa with orange throw pillows flushed against the wall, as what she assumed was a comfortable area for students when they visit Professor Styles during office hours. Two fully wooden desks, side by side, though one was more cluttered which she assumed was Professor Styles’ workspace. A faux leather swivel chair was placed directly parallel with his desk for students to sit at while he chatted with them, or maybe even his colleague friends that visited him for lunch. The walls were decorated with paintings, mostly paintings with sage green and a burnt orange color to match the same vibe as the couch, and when she cocked her head to the side, she saw a small bench next to the door that held papers with community resources so students could tear off the contact information they needed.

“Mallory, do you think you could get Y/N familiar with the desk and the space? My next class starts in a few minutes and I just want to prepare a couple things. After that, you’re free to go.”

Mallory simply nodded as Professor Styles strode out of the doorway and back over to his main desk in the classroom. Y/N tore her gaze from him, trying not to ogle too much to the point where it becomes increasingly more noticeable. She made her way closer to the desk, where Mallory began showing her where all the supplies were. The top drawer of the desk was for pens and pencils, the second drawer was for extra sheets of blank paper, and the third drawer in the desk held an organized filing system which held all the answer keys for the tests he gave throughout the semester.

“These are the tests I’m currently grading. I was able to get through his first two classes and part of his third class, but there are two more classes of 60 people that need to be graded plus the one that I didn’t finish all the way through.” Mallory pointed at the stack of tests that needed to be graded, and next to it was the hefty stack she had already worked through this morning.

Y/N looked down at the answer key displayed, and realized it was the same exact test she had taken just last week in her abnormal psychology class. “This is the same exact test I took last week,” she picked up the answer key and scanned it, noting the same wording on each question, same multiple choice answers, and same write-in questions.

Mallory nodded, a warm smile across her face as her voice chirped out, “Yeah, you’re in Professor Smith’s class with me. I recognize you. I sit behind you. Smith’s class is one week ahead of Harry’s which is why we’re able to TA for him, because we’re taking the same tests but a whole week before Harry gives them to his students,” she shrugs her shoulders up and down, “It makes it fair.”

It took Y/N a minute before she realized who Mallory was talking about. The name Harry got lost in her brain as she tried to understand who Mallory was talking about until she realized that Mallory was Professor Styles’ first name, and she knew that due to her deep Google searches on the young professor.

“I see,” Y/N nodded her head and placed the answer key back on the desk, not quite sure what else to say to Mallory. It seemed pretty straight forward, and if she finished before her time was up for the day, she was sure Professor Styles would give her something else to do for the remainder of the time.

“If there’s anything that you need, you can just ask me. My contact information is on that little piece of paper taped to the desk,” Mallory pointed at the corner, and Y/N read her full name, phone number, and email address, “But everything is pretty straight-forward.”

Y/N nodded, mumbling out an appreciative “thank you” as Mallory began gathering her stuff. Right before she exited the door, Y/N cleared her throat as she worked up the courage to get Mallory’s attention.

Mallory turned her head slightly, her eyebrows raised as she held the edge of the doorway with her fingers, waiting for Y/N to say something.

“I was just wondering if…” Y/N trailed off momentarily, her eyes drifting to where Professor Styles stood as he greeted the students that were flooding in his room in large groups, “I was wondering if you liked assisting Professor Styles.”

Mallory’s smile grew larger as she understood the nervous gulp Y/N gave in between words as she spoke. If Mallory was being completely truthful, she was skeptical of him at first too. She couldn’t find any ratings as this was his first year teaching and sometimes you truly don’t understand a professor’s temperament until you get to know them. “He’s great, I promise you.” Her eyes glanced behind her and she lowered her voice, “He’s nothing like Professor Smith… And he’s easy on the eyes.”

Mallory sent a wink toward Y/N, and Y/N felt that familiar heat crawl up her neck once more.

___________

By the end of the day, she had nearly finished the stack. With a glance toward the clock, she realized she only had a few minutes left and wouldn’t be able to crank out the thirty or so tests that needed grading. Her fingers drummed against the desk as she contemplated how to let Mallory know she didn’t completely finish.

Y/N could send her an email as her contact information was taped to the corner of her desk, but it didn’t feel like a good enough reason to email her and she really, really didn’t want to bug her. Y/N thinks if she were in Mallory’s shoes, an email letting her know she didn’t finish felt unnecessary.

Multiple shoes clicking on the floor in the main classroom rang in her ears, the sound of nonchalant talking as the students shuffled out the classroom, and the sound of papers rifling in backpacks signaled that Professor Styles’ class had ended, concluding his classes for the day.

It was only a few minutes before the last student finally made their way out the door, the familiar sound of the door clicking closed told her that he had finally completed his work day.

Like he was anticipating the end of his day, he gently tapped his knuckles upon the door of the office and before she could even mumble a small “come in,” the door was flying open. Y/N realized then that the tapping against the door wasn’t necessarily permission for him, but a courteous way of letting her know that he would be entering the room.

He stood in the doorway, his lean shoulders pressing against the frame. The satin top that exposed just the tips of his tattoos taunted her, almost as if they were looking back at her while she tried to decipher what might lay under his shirt.

With hard eyes, he glanced down at what she was staring at and when he realized where her gaze was studying, he brought his nimble fingers to the top button and securely covered it so that the tattoos were no longer in sight. He cleared his throat and she swallowed hard, glancing around the room to try and play off her wandering eyes.

“How was your first day?” He asked, giving her a somewhat hopeful look. The kind of look that told her he must have had a TA at one point that had a terrible first day, and ran out of his abnormal psych class screaming, never to be seen again.

If she was honest, the subject in itself was something she might have had trouble mastering, but the assistant duties weren’t that terrible. All she had to do was review an answer key, mark in red pen if they got the answer wrong, and total up the number of points they got on their test. It didn’t get much simpler than that.

“It was good, Professor Styles,” she tried to make her voice sound as chipper and friendly as possible. She wanted him to know that she was happy to help him out and liked doing it.

He shook his head slightly, a small smile forming across his lips to indicate amusement. It was almost as if she could see his eyes shine a little brighter than they were before as he brought his hand up to his neck and rubbed in a comforting way like. He searched the air, trying to find the same words he used for Mallory when she began assisting him.

“I like to be called Harry if that’s something you’re comfortable with. I want you to feel like we’re on the same level, almost like we’re colleagues. You don’t need to address me as ‘professor’ because I’m not your professor,” he began the same spiel he told Mallory, letting her know that they were equals and it made Y/N’s insides warm a little bit. “For example, if one day you told me you wanted to teach the lesson, I would absolutely trust you to do so.”

Her eyebrows scrunched and her tongue flicked against her lower lip, the eyes that were previously locked with him now analyzing the pattern of the wooden desk as she shook her head in a gentle way. Giving a lesson was definitely not something she wanted to do. Maybe Mallory was the kind of TA that wanted interaction with the class, but not Y/N. No, that wasn’t Y/N at all.

Y/N considered herself to be a simple person. She didn’t mind sneaking into the office he had tucked away in his room with the door closed as she graded papers. She didn’t mind the silently working alone, reading through answers, trying to decipher sloppy handwriting, but she did not want to teach a lesson,

Maybe Mallory was her polar opposite, balancing out his two TA’s. Mallory was talkative enough when she met Y/N. She seemed like the kind of girl that could discuss a topic as bland as oranges for thirty minutes by constantly adding new components to the conversation. Mallory and Y/N might be a yin and yang ordeal, opposites that balance each other out just enough that it works together.

“I appreciate that, but I don’t want to teach a class,” she explained. It took a second for her to calm the thoughts that were picking at her brain. Maybe the idea of teaching a class sounded some sort of internal alarm that forced her shoulders to tense up, her knees to lock, and her mouth to produce more saliva than necessary because she physically felt her body constrict at the idea.

“No, you don’t have to,” he shifted against the doorframe, sensing how uncomfortable she was and silently cursing at himself for putting her in such an awkward position on her first day. “I was just trying to explain that I want us to be equals.”

She simply nodded, not quite sure what else to say. She could confirm that she was comfortable calling him Harry, but she thinks he probably already knew she would if that is what he was requesting. She settled on two words that expressed her gratitude, “Thank you.”

He gestured his hand as if to say don’t even worry about it, but a puzzled look formed on his face as he did so. “Do you mind telling me why you don’t want to teach a class? Mallory nearly fell out of her seat with excitement when I told her she could if she really, really wanted to.”

There it was: confirmation that Mallory was her opposite. A sense of relief washed through her veins as she realized it was perfectly okay for her to be the quiet one, as long as Mallory was outgoing.

Her eyes narrowed and Harry could tell she was trying to find the words to explain how she felt about the idea. She was very thoughtful, and in the short three hours he had known her, he appreciated that quality about her. Y/N couldn’t tell him she sucked at abnormal psychology and was almost failing her class. She couldn’t tell him that she would pretty much be setting his students up for failure if she taught the class, but she could tell him that she was uncomfortable in big groups of people. That was true. As soon as the group exceeded five or so people, she realized she never wanted to participate in the conversation as she felt like she never had anything good enough to say. Y/N was more of a listener, and sometimes even then, five people in her friend group was overwhelming.

“I’m not a good public speaker,” as the reason slipped from her lips, she suddenly felt like that was such a silly reason to make a fuss over it. It was true though, public speaking was not really her element.

“We could always work on that if that’s something you’re interested in?” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. If she refused the offer it wouldn’t really bother him, but he wanted to give her the option anyway, just in case it’s a goal she wants to work toward.

Y/N didn’t know what possessed her because even though working on public speaking would be helpful in its own way, she really didn’t want to. She had already taken the most basic required public speaking course and did not plan to take any other communication class, but she nodded her head in agreement with his proposition and mumbled out, “That would be great.”

Harry could tell by the lack of enthusiasm in her response, and by the way her shoulders slumped forward and her nose scrunched up that she didn’t actually mean it. It was more that she was trying to be polite than anything, and he thinks that maybe if he were her, his reaction would be the same. He used to be a people pleaser too, and at first it was a harmless personality trait that slowly morphed into something that was no longer harmless, he was absolutely taken advantage of (covering shifts for coworkers when he didn’t want to, staying out too late with friends because they wanted to even though his warm bed was calling) and became a difficult thing to shake.

He glanced down at his watch, reading the time carefully. It hadn’t felt like 15 minutes of interacting with her until he realized just how long his, now numb, shoulder was pressed against the door frame. “It’s probably time you head out, hm?”

“Yes,” she breathed out, finding her voice. She knew they hadn’t been talking for too long, but she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. Not that she was itching to stay and grade papers. No matter how mindless the activity was, she did want to go home. It was at that moment she realized the question she wanted to ask him hadn’t come up yet, and it was the first thing she wanted to ask when she heard the shuffling of footsteps as he wrapped up his last class of the day. “I have about thirty tests left to grade. How can I let Mallory know?”

He wasn’t looking at her as she spoke, but she knew that she had his undivided attention. With hesitation, she gulped as she watched his long fingers rake down his throat, his index and middle finger touching the skin ever so gently, just avoiding his Adam's apple. It only took a couple steps for him before his long legs were at his desk in the office, and he was sifting through the disorganized pile he must have dumped on there in between classes. “Why don’t you just leave her a little note that she can read when she comes in tomorrow morning? Should be fine.”

It didn’t take too long for her to grab a blank piece of paper from the second drawer. She scribbled out a note as quickly as possible, letting Mallory know how far she got the day before and thanking her for picking up where she left off. As soon as she was done writing the note, she began gathering her things. Y/N was more than ready to get back to her flat, have a small discussion with her flatmate (who also happened to be her best friend), and climb into the comfort of her bed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly.

He gave her one of those sweet smiles that he must have kept tucked away in his utility belt of charm, and waved her a simple goodbye.

She thought of him the whole way home even though she tried not to.

___________

“So how was it?” Her roommate and best friend from her undergraduate days, Niall, asked from the other side of the kitchen. She had been home for a total of ten minutes and he was already interrogating her, but she didn’t expect anything less from him. With a short glance over to where she stood at the counter, he gave his attention back to the refrigerator where he was rummaging to find the strawberry kiwi flavored juice he loved so much.

“It was fine,” she shrugged her shoulders. As soon as she started speaking, his eyes fixated back toward her as his hand finally grasped the strawberry kiwi juice he was looking for. Instead of holding eye contact, she let her gaze flicker to the floor.

Eye contact was one of Y/N’s telling traits; Niall knew that when she couldn’t hold eye contact with him, she was either lying or holding out on giving him information. A smirk danced across his lips as he shut the fridge, then leaned his body against it slowly. “You’re either lying or holding out on me. Which is it?”

“Holding out on you,” amusement twirled throughout her eyes, and her lips curved to match the same smirk Niall was giving her.

“Won’t you tell me?” He clutched his chest, feigning heart pain as if she had stabbed him by telling him she was holding out.

“He’s really…” She trailed off, not quite sure how to say what she wanted to say appropriately. It felt wrong to say it out loud. She wasn’t concerned that Niall would judge her, but if she was being honest, she was judging herself for being so attracted to the professor she was supposed to be working for. She decided to put it as bluntly as possible, “Attractive.”

In a matter of seconds, Niall’s smirk turned into a full blown smile, teeth showing and all. It wasn’t common for Y/N to talk about when she found someone attractive. She always kept to herself. In fact, she kept to herself so much that when Niall invited her out with his other friends, he was always a little worried that she was feeling overwhelmed. It’s not that she couldn’t take care of herself or regulate her own emotions, she absolutely could and he knew that, but he always worried that she was forcing herself to be around his friends just because she wanted Niall to know she cared about spending time with him. “Is he now?”

“Yes,” her smile turned into a sheepish one, her ears feeling hot right at the tips.

“Have you told him that you suck at abnormal psychology?” Niall didn’t mean this in a mean way, he knew Y/N was struggling with her abnormal psych class because she had come home on multiple occasions, kicked her shoes off, buried her face into the couch cushion and screamed at the top of her lungs. When Niall asked her why she was being so dramatic, she told him that she was failing her first class, and even he was slightly taken aback by the news. Y/N had better grades than anyone he knew.

“That’s not the plan anymore,” she explained, her fingers rubbing against the countertop just enough to feel the smooth coating. She was waiting for him to scold her. She was actually anticipating it on the car ride when she decided that she absolutely, for certain, was not going to tell Professor Styles—Harry— that she was failing her abnormal psychology class. When the opportunity came for her to TA, she had talked about it with Niall. He knew she was a naturally shy being, but he explained that if she was still struggling in a couple weeks when the TA position started, she could tell the professor and maybe they would offer her some extra help or some extra worksheets that would get her back on track.

“What do you mean?” Niall furrowed his eyebrows, taking a swig of the strawberry kiwi juice he had forgotten he was holding in his hand.

She simply shrugged her shoulders up and down, staring at her pink polkadot socks as she wiggled her toes to distract herself.

“Why? Because you think he’s attractive?” Niall tried to understand, pressing the topic further. If she didn’t want to give him anymore information regarding it then he would stop pestering her, but his job as her best friend was to pester her anyway.

She simply nodded, still not looking up.

“Sheesh, Y/N.” Niall brought his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and pressed it together in order to relieve some of the tension building in his head. He wasn’t going to tell her it was a bad idea or shame her for finding him attractive. Hell, he was putting himself in her shoes and decided that if he found one of his professor’s attractive, he would probably leave out information like that too.

“I know,” was all she said, a tinge of shame ringing in her tone but he waved her off.

“So,” he said, not wanting her to feel too badly, “Indian for dinner?”

She gazed back up at him, a grin shining in his direction as she said, “You know me so well.”

________

Days had passed of Y/N working in the office located in Harry’s classroom. They didn’t talk very much, but sometimes he would come into the office and sit with her. While he did work on his computer and she graded papers, he would make small talk. He would ask her things about why she chose to major in psychology, what undergraduate school she went to, where she was from. Normal things like that. Sometimes she wanted to ask him questions too, but she could never work up the courage to until today (it only took her a few weeks).

“Do you have a favorite color?” It was the most mundane question she could ask him, but she was actually asking for a reason. Typically, she graded the papers in the red pen Mallory left behind, because it was cohesive with Mallory’s work.

“I like green. Why do you ask?” He glanced up from his laptop, closing the lid just slightly so he could get a better view of her face.

“I grade with a red pen. I was wondering if there was a preference you had,” she suddenly felt childish for asking, and was mentally banging her head against the wall.

“You can keep grading with red. That color is better for grading anyway.” His eyes tore from her and he was back to scrolling through something on his laptop. Her eyes remained fixated on him, and she wanted to keep the conversation going, but there was no way she would have been able to work up the courage to speak to him again. Like he was reading her thoughts, he looked back at her and concluded with, “Thanks for asking, sweet girl.”

Sweet girl.

Her heart nearly exploded in her chest.

After that day, her and Harry spent a lot of time talking. Possibly too much time talking.

___________

Mallory decided that since she and Y/N both TA’d for Harry, it was an unspoken rule that they should start sitting together in Professor Smith’s class. The day after Mallory met Y/N, she packed her bag up from the other side of the classroom, and moved to the back desk in the seat parallel to Y/N.

Their seats already weren’t too far away, even though Mallory originally sat on the opposite side. Actually, Y/N hadn’t ever realized before but the classroom was small, sterile, and unwelcoming. It wasn’t the way Harry’s classroom was set up with paintings hanging on the wall, informative sheets placed on a vintage waist level bookcase that was filled with leatherback classics. Professor Smith’s class was that of a doctor’s office. No color except gray, tile that constantly smelt of lemon floor cleaner. Y/N didn’t always catch the fine details, but when comparing Professor Smith’s class to Harry’s, she realized just how much Harry went out of his way to make the environment feel like home.

So Y/N was a little grateful when Mallory took a seat beside her, the atmosphere feeling a little less cold and dark. They would work together on in-class projects, and Y/N realized that Mallory was really, really good at understanding the fundamentals to abnormal psychology. She was actually really grateful she met Mallory, because the more Mallory helped her, the better her grades were looking. She still wasn’t passing the class at a satisfactory level, but she was definitely getting better.

Mallory liked to talk a lot, which was good, because Y/N liked to listen. She never had much to say, but Mallory always did. Like today, for example, she was telling Y/N that she and her boyfriend were going to some dive bar on the East side with tickets to a comedy show on Friday, and she really wanted Y/N to come. Her other friend and her friend’s boyfriend bailed, but Mallory had already purchased two extra tickets for the comedy show and she would hate for them to be wasted. Y/N was hesitant at first, but she decided there was no harm in going. She liked Mallory a lot, and she was excited to meet Mallory’s boyfriend because she had heard so much about him.

“Are you going to bring your boyfriend? If you don’t then we’re going to have that one extra ticket,” Mallory explained.

Her boyfriend? When had Y/N ever said that she had a boyfriend? Mallory wasn’t the type of person to assume either, so she tried to replay the past conversations in her head dating back to when Mallory and her first started conversing about a month and a half ago. They had talked about all kinds of things, but Y/N had never mentioned a boyfriend. As if the puzzle pieces clicked together, she realized just how often she talked about Niall when she felt she had something interesting enough to add to the conversation.

“Do you mean Niall?” Y/N questioned, her eyebrows raised just a smidge.

“Yes,” Mallory confirmed, confusion laced in her tone and present on her features. “Is he not your boyfriend?”

“No,” Y/N started to laugh, the kind of laugh that made your nose scrunch. Niall was handsome, sure, but they would only ever be best friends. They definitely were not each other’s types. Y/N had seen Niall’s type at nights when he would escort her to small gatherings to play board games. The girls (sometimes even guys, she thinks, though she’s never asked) would be twirling their hair in the corner as he charmed them with that dazzling smile. “Niall is my best friend! He’s also my roommate which might be why you’re confused. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Mallory said, a smile spreading across her face as she clapped her hands together. “Well, why don’t you bring him then if he’s your best friend. I would love to meet him!”

“I think…” Y/N trailed off, trying to think if this is something Niall would say yes to. He was such a social butterfly, he usually never said no to going out, so she didn’t see why agreeing for him would be a problem. “I think that would be a lovely idea.”

When Y/N got home that night, she asked Niall and to no surprise of her own, he excitedly agreed and said he was excited to meet Mallory.

___________

Harry dismissed his class early that day. Mallory didn’t show up to grade papers in the morning because she had a doctor's appointment she already arranged with Harry. He decided that since there was not much left on the chapter his class was going over, he would help Y/N grade the test his class took two days ago since she was grading by herself.

He popped his head through the door to tell Y/N that he dismissed class early and was going to step out for a few minutes. She gave him a nod in confirmation and heard his heels click as he walked out of the classroom.

Just like he said, he was back in a few minutes but with two coffees in hand. She eyed the coffee with the whipped cream on top, and a devilish smile spread across his lips, his eyes sparkling. Was that other coffee for her? If so, how did he know she liked whipped cream on the top?

“I got us a treat,” he set the two coffees down on her desk and pushed the one with whipped cream, then grabbed his swivel chair that was tucked into the desk he normally sat at in the office and placed it directly next to hers. When he sat, he was so close that she could feel his knee brush against hers.

“Thank you,” she expressed her gratitude and picked up the coffee, eyeing the whipped cream once more. “How did you know I liked whipped cream?”

He paused and looked at her. The look on his face was teetering on the edge of wariness, like he didn’t want to say anything to cross the fine line of a boundary they had constructed. As he searched for the right words to say, he drank in her appearance and she couldn’t help but want to melt away as his eyes danced from her own eyes then back down to her lips then back up to her eyes. “When you come in looking especially tired, you always have a coffee with you, and every single time you’ve had a coffee with you, it has whipped cream on the top.”

Her heart thumped in her chest. Did he notice her that often? Surely he didn’t notice her the way that she’s noticed him. She notices how his tongue darts out and swiftly moved across his bottom lip when he’s concentrated, how he clicks his pen to the beat of the song when they’re playing music in the office, and how he rakes his forefinger and middle finger up and down his throat when he’s really listening to what she has to say.

“I was thinking that we could share this answer key,” he tapped the answer key she had toward the top of the desk, “To grade these papers together. It’s Friday night, I’m sure you wanna get out of here a little early.”

She decided that he was maybe the most thoughtful person she had ever met. There was absolutely no reason that he needed to help her, he could have let her do it all on her own. He didn’t need to get her a coffee either. Maybe she just wasn’t so used to random acts of kindness, or maybe it was the fact that every single day, her attraction to him grew and grew like a plant flourishing in the sunlight. “Did you want me to make a copy?”

“What? Am I sitting too close to you?” He teased, brushing his leg up against hers. She sucked in a small gasp as she felt his knee against hers once more, and maybe it was because she was so touch starved, but she wanted him to do it again and again and again.

“No, no. Not at all,” Y/N said a little too frantically. A little too eagerly.

“Hush, pet. I’m just kidding with you.” Harry spoke softly, letting her know that he was only teasing her.

They worked in silence for a little while until Y/N rested her back against the chair. She was beginning to cramp up from the way she was sitting. Her fingers were beginning to hurt with each stroke of the pen. Her eyes were getting a little blurry from looking at the same thing over and over again, so she used her left hand (the one that wasn’t cramping up) and grabbed her coffee, taking a swig and underestimating the strength of her left hand, causing whipped cream to coat her upper lip.

Harry laughed gently, then used his fingers to wipe the whip cream off her mouth. He grabbed her lips in between his fingers, then wiped the whipped cream onto his pants. She shuddered softly, almost unnoticeably when she felt his fingers so gently across her lips. Though this was not professor and TA behavior she would deem normal, he said nothing about it, and she was beginning to think that maybe she was overthinking the whole thing because she found him so attractive. With one swift sentence, he pulled her from her thoughts.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked her, making subtle conversation as his pen marked a few things on the test he was grading. Like Y/N, Harry wondered what Y/N did in her free time although he never found a way to weasel that into their conversations. While their conversations were mostly made up of random tidbits of their lives, he had never figured out how to ask how she would spend her weekends.

Y/N was about to tell him that she was seeing a comedy show with Niall and Mallory (and Mallory’s boyfriend of course), but she wasn’t sure if Mallory had told Harry they became quick friends. What if Mallory didn’t want him to know? Y/N couldn’t understand why Mallory would think that way, but just in case, she decided she wouldn’t tell him anything about it. “I don’t think so,” she lied plainly, “What about you? Are you doing anything special?”

Harry casually looked up, clicking the pen a few times before replying. “I am doing something tonight. My friends planned it. If I’m being honest, though, I’m not quite sure what we’re doing. They have told me a few times, but it’s gone over my head. At this point, they’re going to swing by my flat and pick me up just so they are certain I’ll actually show up. Not that I don’t want to see them and don’t care about the plans, I’ve just been so busy.”

“Oh,” Y/N tightens and a sudden realization sweeps through her mind. What if he has a girlfriend? She pushed the thought from her head and buried it, “I’m like that too, I think.”

The sudden realization she tried to bury put her in a somewhat sour mood. Harry notices right away, but he doesn’t ask her why she’s suddenly so adrift from their conversation in an attempt to not push her. If something was bothering her and she wanted to talk about it, she would.

They spent the rest of the time grading papers, and before she left for the night, he told her to have a great weekend, and she told him to have the same, the sullen feeling still weighing on her chest.

___________

The bar was very crowded, very noisy, and not usually Y/N’s scene at all. When her and Niall arrived, she quickly introduced him to Mallory, and Mallory introduced her boyfriend—Josh— to them quickly. The comedy show didn’t last too long, and Y/N could have sworn that Mallory said it was a dive bar when she was trying to convince her to come. The atmosphere was that of a nightclub, as the show finished people shuffled to the dance floor and began dancing.

Mallory grabbed Y/N by the arm and ushered her over to the bar, and Y/N was guessing that she could feel the tension radiating from her. “I think a drink will loosen you up. Do you want a drink?” Mallory asked.

“I don’t drink very often,” Y/N said, unsure of what to order. There is one thing that Y/N does know about drinking, and it is that she hates the taste of alcohol. The bar was crowded, and Mallory shoved in between two people sitting in barstools, making room for Y/N. Her fingers brushed against the counter, feeling a cold liquid under her hand. It took everything in her to not scrunch up her nose as she wiped the mystery liquid against the bottom of her satin dress.

“That’s okay,” Mallory said, “Just ask the bartender what he thinks you’ll like.”

Y/N didn’t know how the bartender would know what she likes if she didn’t even know what she liked herself. Mallory ordered something red, but Y/N didn’t know the name of it. She knew immediately that she wasn’t going to get that though, because the smell of vodka coming from Mallory’s drink was strong. Mallory took a strong swig of the drink, not making a face and giving her a thumbs up. It was at that moment that Y/N decided she really liked Mallory’s carefree personality. She really enjoyed Mallory, even if the bar was a little too loud than she would normally like, Y/N decided it was worth it to spend time with Mallory and Niall.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender turned and looked at Y/N after watching Mallory take a sip of her drink to make sure it was made to her satisfaction.

Y/N hesitated, “Something that doesn’t taste like alcohol, I think.”

“I’ve got the perfect drink for you,” he yelled over the music and people talking then reached for a glass from under the counter. He added a few juices to the glass and a steep amount of alcohol. Y/N wasn’t sure if he misheard her and thought she asked for something that did taste like alcohol based on the amount he put it. After the glass was full to the brim, he popped in a little umbrella and slid it over to her. “Let me know if you don’t like it. It’s called Sex on the Beach.”

Sex on the Beach was such a crude name for a beverage, but who was she to judge the name. Maybe it really did taste like sex on the beach. She sipped through the straw and was surprised when it tasted like an assortment of juice and none of the alcohol he had heavily poured into the glass. She murmured a soft thank you, and though he didn’t actually hear her, he knew she was expressing gratitude.

It only took a couple seconds to find out where Niall and Josh had moved. Mallory and Y/N walked over to them with drinks in hand, and even with the one sip Y/N took, she already felt much looser. They found their way to a booth, facing the door.

By the time an hour passed, Y/N and Mallory finished their drinks and Y/N was feeling exceptional. They made their way back to the bar and the bartender winked at her, fixing up another Sex on the Beach and Mallory ordered something different this time.

As they walked back toward the booth, Mallory nudged Y/N with her elbow and pointed toward the door. Y/N watched Harry walk in with a couple of his friends, his eyes locking with hers and then flickering over to Mallory. A grin spread across his face and his hand came up in a slow wave. Mallory quickly waved back and Y/N just stood there, shocked that these were the plans his friends had made with him.

He approached them, leaving his friends to saunter to the bar without him. The three of them exchanged hellos, then he shifted his body to face Y/N. “I thought you weren’t doing anything?” Harry yelled over the music, smoke clouding around the three of them.

“I forgot,” she lied, and Mallory quickly turned her head to look at Y/N as if to say how did you forget when we’ve been talking about it all week.

To Y/N’s misfortune, Mallory said just that. “We’ve been talking about it all week, Y/N. How did you forget?”

Harry’s face sparked with amusement as if she had caught her red handed, her tongue twisting in the shape of the lie that she had so easily told him earlier in the day. Y/N rolled her eyes at Mallory and laughed a little, the alcohol pumping through her veins at an alarmingly fast rate.

“I’ll meet you back at the booth,” Mallory was grinning as she turned her body and walked back over to where Josh and Niall sat, waiting for them to return. Y/N realized that she really needed to explain herself to Mallory, the conversation with Harry probably seemed a little more intimate than it actually was.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” Harry eyed her drink, her Sex on the Beach. Oh, she would love to have that with Harry. Y/N’s tipsy brain was much more scandalous than her sober brain. “Maybe we can talk later.”

Y/N really wanted to spend more time with him. She wanted to sit with him, and meet his friends. It wasn’t going to happen, but she so desperately wanted to. It took a second for her to tear her gaze from his body as he walked away from her and toward the bar to meet his friends. She took this as her cue to not stand in the middle of the dance floor like an idiot and found her way back to the booth where her friends waited for her. Niall looked at her suspiciously but she shrugged her shoulders in response, directing her attention to Josh as he talked about a movie trailer he recently saw and how much he wants to go see the movie in the theater. Y/N knew exactly what movie he was talking about, and said that she wants to see it too, so the four of them made plans to go see the movie next Friday.

Throughout the night, Y/N glanced at Harry and more often than not, they made eye contact with one another. Thirty minutes had passed from the time he walked in the door with his friends, and finally, the last time they locked eye contact, he subtly nodded toward the hall that led to the Billiards room and the bathroom. Immediately, Y/N knew that he was telling her to meet him there.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she said, the drink still in her hand.

Mallory and Josh thought nothing of it, nodding at her to confirm they heard her, but Niall eyed the drink she sported in between her fingers and gave her a knowing look, a twinkle shining in his eye. Oh, he was definitely going to be asking her about this later.

She staggered toward the hallway, moving through the crowd of people, trying not to spill her drink on herself, the floor, or the people near her. As she made her way to the hall, she felt Harry come up behind her, knowing it was him by the minty citrus scent of his cologne.

Y/N flipped around and the hallway was so crowded with people that they didn’t have much room between them. Her back was slightly pressed against the wall, his thigh placed in between her legs, rubbing her gently. She was suddenly hyper aware of how he felt, how he smelled, and how he looked.

He wore jeans that flare at the bottom, a black sweater tucked into the tops of the jeans. The sneakers he had on matched his outfit perfectly, and it took her until this very moment to realize that he was fairly fashionable. His outfits always looked put together, but they weren’t trendy. They were always timeless and fitted to his lean stature.

“I’ve been looking at you all night,” his tone was soft and his eyes searched hers thoroughly. “You look so cute, y’know?”

Harry took the fabric of her satin dress in between his fingers and felt it, his index finger slowly rubbing against the soft part of her thigh.

“Thank you,” was all she managed to squeak out. He dropped the fabric from his fingers, and she wanted to protest because she wanted to feel his fingers against her. She hadn’t realized how much you could crave someone until you’re one Sex on the Beach in, and then the realization that he knew just how much she ogled him in his office kicked in.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming here tonight because you didn’t want me to know you were with your boyfriend?” His tone was teasing, but she thought just for a second that’s how he was playing it off. Like he wanted confirmation that wasn’t actually the reason and he was fishing for the information.

She held his gaze momentarily before sputtering out, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” She wanted him to know. No, she needed him to know.

“Then who is that blonde bloke you’ve been snuggling up to?” He questioned, knowing she was telling the truth but he wanted to see her squirm just a little bit. She knew it, too. She could tell by the way his voice sounded that he was just messing with her, he wanted a bit of cat and mouse.

“My friend. We’re best friends, actually, and roommates.” Y/N explained, though her brain was a little bit foggy. Not because of the alcohol, no. Actually, she felt like she was sobered up, and needed a little bit more of her drink to get her back to the floaty place she was at when she was sitting in the booth.

He used his right hand to keep himself sturdy, then checked his surroundings and asked her, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes,” she breathed out. It was loud, but she felt just fine here with him.

The atmosphere was so wild with smoke filtering through the air, that now they really had no room except practically chest to chest as they spoke. The drink he was sporting in his hand was dark tequila on the rocks, and it made so much sense that he could drink hard liquor as is. He exuded that kind of dominance, the kind that says I enjoy the burn in my throat because it feels nice.

The tequila dribbled down her chin, and he used his finger to wipe it up, and as she lowered the drink from her lips, he grazed his index finger over her lips, beckoning for her to open and lick the whiskey she spilled. He didn’t need to coax her, didn’t need to tell her what he wanted, she simply just knew. Her tongue darted out, licking the whiskey from the base of his finger to the tip. He was never really into voyeurism, but he thinks he could take her right here and right now. How did he go from helping her grade papers earlier in the day to pressing her against the wall of a bar with his thigh tense between her legs. They were crossing so many lines, he was crossing so many lines.

“Why are you always cleaning up my face?” She gave him a lazy smile, and her eyes were so innocent.

“Why are you always spilling?” He countered.

He breathed her in, smelling the taste of his whiskey against her lips. He was so close, so close that he could taste her if he really wanted to, so close that she could feel his breath against her face. He decided that he spent too much time thinking about her mouth. About the way her lips parted then closed when she had something to say, but decided not to say anything at all. God, that was so frustrating. He spent so much time thinking about her lips, and the noises that would come from them if he truly could have her that he should just kiss her, right here, right now. “I want to. I really want to,” his voice was low and thick, sultry even.

“Me too,” her voice was small, and once again he was all too aware of the way her legs squeezed his thigh.

Before he could make a choice he couldn’t take back, he pushed himself away, leaving a foot of space between the pair. “You should go back to your friends,” he didn’t want to sound too harsh, so he gently brushed his fingers against his cheek and grasped the glass of tequila with the palm of his hands. “I’ll see you Monday, Y/N.”

Without a word, she made her way back to her friends, feigning the frustration that was building in his chest. For the rest of the night, she glanced in his direction but he never glanced back at her. Maybe he was feeling guilty. Maybe he thought he was making a big mistake.

When they finally got home, Niall didn’t ask her anything like she thought he would and she was grateful.

___________

It started with an ache low in her belly, then slowly spread to her lower back. As she sat in her second hour of Professor Smith’s class, she laid her head against the coolness of the desk. Y/N was trying not to think of her encounter with Harry the Friday before. Nothing had actually happened so it was fine, there was nothing to worry about. Mallory gave her a sympathetic smile, and once more held out the pamprin pills but Y/N shook her head as she had already taken some just an hour before class started.

It was almost like she could feel the color draining from her face, nausea turning in her stomach. She wasn’t expecting her period to come this morning after she had stepped foot on campus. There were no signs as she was greeting ready in the morning. No signs when she stepped out of her apartment. The first sign happened when she was walking from the opposite side of campus to Professor Smith’s class. The dull ache weaseled its way into her lower abdomen, causing subtle pain with each step she took. As she continued to walk, her hand found its way to her abdomen, applying warmth and pressure to rid her of the ache but it wasn’t working.

Quickly, she found a bathroom and slipped into a stall, realizing that her period had come sooner than she was expecting it. With a hurried hand, she rummaged through her bag, pulling out an emergency bottle of pamprin and shuffled the pills past her lips, chugging it down with the water bottle tucked into the side pocket of her backpack.

As soon as she saw Mallory, it was like Mallory could tell she was in an immense amount of pain, because she slung her backpack off of her shoulder and pulled out a bottle of the same pills tucked into a specific pocket of her backpack. Y/N just shook her head, struggling to muster up the words to tell her she had already taken some.

“I think you should leave class a little early. Go to Harry’s class and lay on the couch in the office. There’s no point in staying here, it’s not like you’re able to absorb any of the information while you’re in pain,” Mallory began reasoning with her. As far as she was concerned Mallory didn’t know that Harry and Y/N were so close to kissing at the bar that she could still feel her lips tingling three days later. She didn’t want to go to Harry, and she didn’t want Harry to think she was being dramatic. Y/N wasn’t worried that it would be awkward between her and Harry today, because he was so charming it would have been like Friday never happened, but she was still hesitant. Before she had a chance to think twice another cramp ripped through her, and she was already packing up her backpack and lifting herself from her seat, the dull ache turning into something more sharp and painful as she stood.

It was her intention to slip out the back door, to be as inconspicuous as possible, but her plan to do that was ruined when Professor Smith cleared his throat and called out her name. “Where are you going?”

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she wasn’t keen on telling the whole class that her uterus might fall out of her body if she stayed hunched over in an uncomfortable chair, with the coolness of the desk being the only thing that could soothe her, or that the nausea was building with each second and she might be so low on iron that she vomits all over the floor of the classroom.

The words tumbled out of her mouth like a squeal, “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling too well.”

Professor Smith’s expression remained stoic, not showing any sign of annoyance or even sympathy for the girl standing in pain at the back of the class. Not that she was expecting sympathy, although she was definitely not expecting the next words to fly out of his mouth in front of her silent classmates viewing the exchange between them, “Really, you should stay unless you plan on getting another D on the next test.”

Y/N tried not to look as horrified as she felt, avoiding eye contact with Mallory completely. She failed to mention to her new friend that she was flunking Professor Smith’s class out of sheer embarrassment and the idea that it might get back to Harry, which would be mortifying in itself.

“I’ll be fine,” was all she managed to say as she slipped from the back door of the classroom. Y/N managed to keep her tears at bay until she heard the door latch behind her, then let the silent tears create warm streams down her cheeks. In one swift motion, she lifted her hood up, concealing her face from the other students as she walked toward Harry’s classroom.

It wasn’t a far walk, him being in the same department as Smith and all. She contemplated just sitting in a bathroom stall, the sharp pain in her abdomen and lower back was still going strong and the nausea stirring in her belly was still persistent, but the public humiliation she endured was definitely worse. She decided that the couch in the office was the better option, and if she was going to be sad and in pain, she might as well do it comfortably.

The plan she concocted was this: She would walk into the room with her eyes glued to the floor and her hood up, ask Harry if it was okay if she laid down for a moment, and without making eye contact with him, she would quickly walk to the room then bury her face in the cushions.

So that is exactly what she did, barely peeking up from her hood.

“Is it okay if I lay down on the couch in the office?” she asked, internally grateful that the sob building in her throat hasn’t raked its way through her body. Another silent tear slid down her cheek, but because she was looking straight down, it splattered against his desk, causing him to cock an eyebrow that she couldn’t actually see.

It seemed gravity was against her.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” his voice was softer than normal, and she heard the sound of his fingers tapping against the desk.

Without another word, she turned on her heels and bolted toward the office door. Shutting it quickly behind her, she tore off her backpack and curled up into a ball on the couch.

He didn’t even bother knocking like he normally did. Usually his knuckles would tap against the door, signifying he was about to answer. Not necessarily for permission, but just to give her, or Mallory, a heads up that he would be entering.

The door locked behind him, but she didn’t look up as she heard the click of his dress shoes against the tile floor. “What’s going on?” He took a seat at the end of the couch she wasn’t occupying, near her head.

With gentle and delicate fingers, he began to pull her limbs from the ball she had coerced herself into. “Hmmm.. Look at me, darling.”

And how could she not? When he was asking so sweetly? The sound of his voice was like molten chocolate, or honey dripping straight from the pot. He was wearing her favorite shirt. The satin shirt that exposes his tattoos just a little bit. The same shirt he wore the first time she ever met him, when he caught her staring at his chest a little too much that he buttoned another button and gave her a somewhat disapproving but playful look. She thinks maybe if she could just run her hand over his chest she would forget about the terrible day she was having, but that was inappropriate and she shouldn’t think like that.

“Oh, sweet thing you are,” his hand brushed a tear that fell from her cheek, “Come on, sit up for me now.”

She obliged, like she always does. As a child she never took a reprimand well, which must have bled into her adult life because she always did what she was told. It was something Harry picked up on rather quickly, she aimed to please, and the psychologist in him really wanted to get to the bottom of it, but the empath in him never wanted to make her uncomfortable by pointing it out. Sometimes he had to make a mental note that she was so receptive to the people around her, he had to choose his words carefully.

She made a simple noise, between a yelp and a cry before wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. “In pain,” was all she said.

He reached over, pulling a couple tissues from the end table next to the couch. Harry wrinkled his nose, realizing that it’s not uncommon for students to shed tears in this office, whether it be a student overwhelmed with the course load, or something else. Typically, he’s able to get to the bottom of it, but now he’s got his TA in here with tears streaming like Niagara Falls, and she only says she’s in pain, except he doesn’t believe that’s the full truth.

Her legs were tucked to the side bunched up, and she leaned on her left arm to support herself up. He didn’t want to pry, or tell her he didn’t think she was being completely honest, because that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Instead, he decided he wouldn’t treat her like a patient, because that’s not what she was to him. She is a graduate student, and he was in her same position just a little under two years ago. He once told her that he wanted her to call him Harry because she felt more like a colleague than a student, so instead, he would treat her like a friend.

“Let me help you, hm?” His fingers grazed her arm that was supporting her up, his eyes locking with her red rimmed ones. “How can I help?”

And it was almost like she knew if her request crossed a line, he would still grant it because her voice was small but sure when she said, “I just want someone to hold me.”

So, that’s what he did. He pulled her up onto his lap, and grasped her in his arms. Her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and he could feel the slow breaths she was taking as the tears finally came to a halt. It was almost like he was holding her back together. If they were crossing lines, he might as well cross one more, “Are you gonna be honest with me now, hm?”

She nodded her head, deciding now was the time to come clean. A weight that was pushing down on her shoulders was about to be lifted and even though she would have a hard time stomaching the embarrassment that came with it, or the look he would give her that might indicate she was stupid, it was time that she just told him. Before Mallory beat her to it, even if she was sure in the deep pit of her gut that Mallory would simply never bring it up.

Y/N lets out a slow, shaky breath before she begins explaining. “I wasn’t feeling too great when I got to school, and during my second hour of abnormal psych, Mallory told me I should come lay down because the pain was getting really intense, so I decided to slip out the backdoor…” She trailed off, not quite sure how to tell him the rest without having to relieve the situation. Some might say she was being a little dramatic, but she had every right to be upset. He stroked her sides as if to tell her “go on” without explicitly saying the words.

“As I was walking out Professor Smith asked where I was going and I told him that I wasn’t feeling too well,” the tears pricked once more, “So he said that I should probably stay if I didn’t want to get a D on another test in front of everyone.”

The smooth stroking against her arm came to a halt, and she realized then that he was probably going to chastise her for leaving class too, but his voice was soft when he said, “He said that to you?”

She nodded, even though she could tell the question was rhetorical. Her eyes fluttered closed again, the tips of her eyelashes gently grazing against the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. That is never something you say to a student, especially in front of such a public audience.” His words flowed out, and she sensed the psychologist in him poking out.

“It was really, really embarrassing.” Y/N mumbled into the crook of his neck, and the feel of her lips against his neck made his body slightly tense up.

“Why didn't you tell me you got a D? I probably could have helped you work something out with him.” He reasoned with her, relaxing once more into the back of the couch. The encounter she was having with him right now was so much different than the encounter she had with him on Friday night, but neither of them brought it up.

She shook her head, nuzzling into him further and even though she knew it was inappropriate, she just wanted to breathe him in. They had already crossed those lines.

He wasn’t having it. He hooked his fingers below her chin, and pulled her face from his neck. “Hm? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell you because I’ve been flunking his tests all semester. There isn’t one test I got a decent grade on… And I was embarrassed, and I felt like a huge fraud sitting in this room, grading tests and not even understanding the content of them. And I just felt stupid. I didn’t want you to think I was stupid.”

“I would never think you’re stupid, Y/N. Surely you know that. I just wish you would have told me. There’s still time to turn your grade around, you and I will work together so that you start understanding the concepts. We’ll set up tutoring. Sweetheart, you’re so smart.” She knew he tacked on that last part for a little extra validation.

Now that she’s talked it out, she feels a little silly for letting so many tears spill over it. He was right, she wasn’t stupid. She just needed a little extra help, and he was willing to give it. She suddenly felt all too aware of her presence on his lap, and began to move herself off of it. Her eyes catching his lips as she shifted just a little, and the overwhelming urge to kiss him took over once more. If she could, she would grab his face then and there and plant one on him, but it felt demure and childish to lust in that way, even with Friday night playing in the back of her mind.

As if he could read the thoughts swimming through her brain, he brought his fingers to her lips and gently tugged at the pout. His fingers trailed down her jaw, and caressed an area of her neck. Her breathing began to pick up as her heart thumped against her ribcage. Sure, he would touch her every now and again when she was working alongside him, and as much as she wanted it to be intimate, it was never like this. She was almost halfway off his lap when he brought his lips— so soft, so gentle, and so pink— against her cool ones, leaving a slight tingling sensation behind.

He gently pulled away, a sultry look dancing across his features. She felt the heat on her cheeks as she stared down into his lap, finally shifting herself completely off of his lap. When she looked up at him, she could tell the flush in his cheeks was not the same as the flush in hers. It was more desire than anything.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he breathed, his eyes fluttering closed with the end of his sentence.

No, no. Y/N didn’t want him to feel that way. He may have been a professor, but he wasn’t actually her professor, and they were so close in age. Surely if they were doing something wrong, it would have felt wrong. Last Friday would have felt wrong too, but it didn’t. If this wasn’t okay then it wouldn’t have felt so right, like his lips were made just for her and only her. “I wanted it.”

“I know you did,” he explained. “It was a vulnerable moment. It can’t happen again.”

She simply nodded in agreement, although she wanted to argue with him, even if it wasn’t in her nature to be so combative. Something washed over her because in that moment, the ache that was stabbing in her lower back didn’t matter, she just wanted to stomp her foot on the ground and tell him that wasn’t fair, but the worst part about it is that he would agree with her. That they had already beat the boundary down with a baseball bat. The moment he slipped his thigh in between her legs and pressed her against the wall of a bar, the boundary had vanished. When he brought his finger to her lips and she licked so slowly, so sensually, the boundary had been gone completely. How can they decide to put it back now? How could she when she finally knew what he tasted like. He knew it wasn’t fair to do that, but it shifted her feelings from sadness over her poor grades and the hostile situation she had just come from to placing her frustration toward him, and that was something he could deal with.

He stood up, a sudden aloofness filling the room. It was almost as if the tension was so thick it was banging on the doors and pushing at the windows to find its way out. Like he could feel its desperation to exit the room, he hooked his finger in the door knob and flung it open, cool air infiltrating the room and brushing over Y/N’s body.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, swiveling the chair near his desk around to face her. She knew he wasn’t talking about the kiss, the ever-so-soft-he-probably-didn't-mean-it-an unfriendly-way-kiss, he was talking about her cramps.

She held her lower belly, his eyes averting from how her hand slipped down her stomach and held, “Better. I think the pamprin is finally kicking in.”

“Good,” he offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and she wanted to pull her eyelashes out if the tension between them was going to cause a drift in their relationship, er? Friendship?

Y/N didn’t know what else to say, she didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already felt for her. Without looking at him directly, she gestured toward her shared desk with Mallory and made a slight shrugging motion with her shoulders. “Since I’m here I should probably just start working on what I’ll be starting in an hour anyway.”

He got up from the chair, and nodded in agreement. The aloofness was beginning to dissipate, as he offered up a grin that finally met his green eyes again. That’s the grin she looked forward to every single afternoon, though she didn't think she would ever be able to work up the courage to tell him. If there is one thing Harry picked up on in the short two months of her assisting him, she worked off of praise. The simplest thing, even just neatly organizing her and Mallory’s pens in a cup was something he would recognize and give her a thumbs up or mumble an appreciative wow, it looks great, Y/N, so that is what he was going to continue to do.

“You’re so efficient,” he praised, “But I don’t want you to start if you’re not feeling completely better yet. Why don’t you just take an hour or so to lay down, hm?”

Even though she wanted to start her work right away, she knew he was right and was only looking out for her, so she mumbled a small “okay” in a very reluctant tone.

He took a few steps in the direction toward the classroom and out of the office before quickly turning around and asking her a question he did not want to forget, “When are you available for tutoring?”

She wanted to tell him to just forget about it, and that she didn’t need his help as the pride twisted and turned in her brain, but she had a strong feeling that he was going to be disappointed in her if she said, forget it, and Y/N didn’t know if she could handle much more disappointment from the people around her in one day.

“Every day after I finish here, I’m free,” her words were small and slow as they fell from her lips.

“That’s perfect, after school we can either sit in here and work or the library, or even my flat if you’re not feeling comfortable in the library,” he listed quite a few options, then finally walked out of the office and shut the door behind him, leaving Y/N to her thoughts.

Her fingers slowly touched her lips, trying to remember the feeling of his lips against hers. She didn’t want to forget any details. His woodsy cologne filled her nostrils, and she could almost see that alluring look swimming in his eyes.

To put it plainly, she just wanted to scream in frustration.

___________

Harry was so screwed and he knew it from the second she stepped foot in the door of his classroom. The way her eyes averted from his and toward the plain wall behind him, the way she marveled at the tattoos that peaked from the tops of shirts (which he realized he would show them off more now, just so he could catch her lingering gaze and watch her quickly look away in embarrassment. Maybe it said something about him, but he loved to watch her become flustered), or the way her hand trembled just barely as she handed him the paper which confirmed she was his assistant that first day.

When he saw her at the bar on Friday night and the way her body responded to him, the way she was just so eager to please, he knew the thoughts he was having weren’t just one-sided. It was hard to get her off of his mind, he hadn’t experienced this kind of attraction in a long while. The psychologist in him tried to reason that it was because it felt somewhat forbidden— even though the school rules didn’t go completely against it, she just couldn’t TA for him anymore or ever take a class with him as her professor— he knew it was much more than that.

She spoke eloquently, her walk was captivating, her smile was innocent, and she just felt good to him. He thinks maybe whoever created the flowers that grew in the crevices of sidewalk, creating beauty in the most absurd places, possibly made her too. She was just like that, a captivating flower amongst the mundane world around her, blooming to the best of her ability and relying on the sunshine that sometimes came and went.

She was just special to him.

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