#cursive method

[lady-a-stuff]

Do you handwrite in English? (It doesn't matter if it's your first language or not, only if you often write in English by hand)

*if you click combined form I demand an example

I'm really curious about this cause I changed my handwriting because my students were having difficulty understanding what was written on the board, so in English I tend to use print handwriting and in Portuguese I use cursive. I wanna see about the rest of y'all

[voidingintotheshout]

I’m actually in favor of this. I will say that it does seem like the most boomer possible thing to do: insist people learn how to write cursive like the olden days.

For me, as a former teacher, the idea of getting rid of grammar instruction in schools and things like that doesn’t actually seem to be making public schools educate better. An entire generation doesn’t know why we do anything in English. It all just seems arbitrary because they never learned any of the rules. Cursive can be really useful because you can write for much longer without a lot of hand strain. I would suggest bringing back the Palmer method, because that seems like the best way to write for extremely long lengths of time quickly without any hand strain. 

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

It’s worth noting also that cursive isn’t actually slower than print handwriting - or, at least, the way it used to be taught wasn’t. Palmer method or similar styles that were taught in a specific way and used muscular movement (moving from the arm, not the wrist or fingers) are not only faster than print but much less tiring on your hand. It’s optimised for speed and consistency, and when you handwrite everything that way every day for years and years, you get very, very fast.

That’s why the switch to dnealian was frankly a death knell for cursive: it wasn’t optimised for speed in the same way, and it wasn’t taught in an intuitive way (and it was ugly lol).

If you were taught zaner-bloser or some other similar form of cursive, and liked the look but found it too slow/tiring/etc, I highly recommend learning Palmer method :)

And yes, it does add a little bit of happiness to life and beauty to the mundane.

bee movie script be upon ye

On one hand I understand not teaching cursive in school anymore, because it actually is slower than regular handwriting and almost everything is typed on a keyboard now anyways.

On the other hand, so much of our (even recent!) history was written in cursive, and having a whole generation of kids who can't read letters written by their grandparents, momentos saved by their great-grandparents, or even photo albums from theur immediate family seems like a dangerously quick way to detach us from previous generations.

And on the third, related but slightly malformed hand, I feel bad that yet another form of small, everyday art that brings joy in the middle of mundane tasks, which celebrates personality and individual style and self-expression, is about to fade into obscurity because it wasn't efficient enough for today's world to put up with.

Like... if we continue to whittle away the small arts out of every day life, what's going to be left except stark, ruthless pragmatism?

Maybe writing a grocery list is less mundane when you get to feel elegant for a moment. Maybe you're a little more proud of what you write when you see it flow together like a painting

[priceoftheduchess]

BRING JAGUAR!GHOST BACK PLEASE HE IS LIKE MY CRACK

little bit of jaguar!ghost x fem rabbit!reader to soothe your withdrawals <3 (short story!)

a bit smutty? hehe sorry…

Simon’s tail whipped sharply behind him as he sat, a methodical thump persistent against the fresh leather. His stare was penetrating, a hole burning through your abdomen — but you somehow didn’t notice.

Well, it wasn’t a secret why you didn’t notice. You were tipsy, on top of already being naturally ditzy, and just swaying to the thumping beat in the club.

The club being the new Hybrid Friendly! club in town. “Club de Primal” written in neon cursive lettering on the front of the building, fancy neon decorations and a ridiculously stocked bar. Any alcohol, you name it. And you probably did, by the way you were drunkenly swaying to the beat.

Captain ‘Bear’ Price sat in the booth, nursing a whiskey and eyeing any suspicious patrons, like the true father he is. Sergeant ‘Wolf’ MacTavish dancing it up on the floor, accidentally whacking innocent bystanders with his wiry tail. Sergeant ‘Crow’ Garrick dancing sensually with some cat hybrid (not historically a great mix, but alright), and Lieutenant ‘Jaguar’ Riley — eyeing you down. A sweet little rabbit thing with shining eyes and an unstoppable little tail.

Eventually, Simon was sick of it. He got up, against his better judgement, and stalked over to you. You were swaying on your feet, singing along to the EDM (somehow? how do you sing to that?). You looked up at Simon when you felt his chest pressed against your entire side, eyes wide. Like a little doe in headlights.

Your ears drooped behind your head, twitching at the new wall against your side.

“C’mon,” Simon grumbles out, holding out a hand for yours. You take a moment to observe him first; his yellow eyes, the soft jaguar pattern adorning his skin and those teeth. You think of kissing him and you nearly piss yourself, because how do you kiss someone with those teeth without losing your tongue?!

But, you grab his hand anyway and he leads you to an open spot on the dance floor. The song changes to something a bit slower and his hands find your front, sprawled over your stomach and the front of your thigh. He feels your happily thumping tail against his thigh and he swears he’s died and gone to Heaven.

“Sweet little thing,” he whispers in your ear, and your breath picks up. He sounds like he wants to eat you whole, and why is it kind of hot? One hand finds your jaw, and one finds the hem of your dress. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips, and you turn around.

All your senses are him. It’s no longer flashing lights, it’s his silhouette. No longer thumping music, but the thumping of his heartbeat. No longer the condensation of your cocktail, but his fitting t-shirt gripped into your palms. No longer a fruity rum, but his tongue pressing down on yours — the taste of whiskey and a past cigarette cutting through your tastebuds. No longer the smell of spilt alcohol and sweaty bodies, but a cologne with hits of bourbon and sandalwood. Fuck, he’s hot.

Somehow, he crowds you into a janitor’s closet by the bathrooms, dressed hiked up to your waist. He’s pawing at your thighs and devouring your mouth with his, his breaths rough and heavy.

He pulls away, and he nearly melts at the sight of you. Flushed face, drool peaking from the corner of your mouth and your blown pupils. You’re so sweet looking.

But he must calm down.

“Mm, come home with me,” he begs, trying to fix your dress and get you back on your feet. Your womanhood tells you to be cautious, to take a second and sober up. But the way he empties his pockets, his wallet and even shows you his keys lessen your anxieties. He’s truly just begging to sleep with you.

“Hm, why not?” You play it off, still gripping at his shirt. He chuckles roughly because he knows a sweet thing like you is only playing that game temporarily. You’ll come apart on his tongue, and gaze up at him with fucked-out eyes before you drift off into sleep.

He kisses your temple and leads you out of the club, helping you into his car and reveling in the fact that you even came home with him. He knows that eventually you’ll actually get to know him one day and then he might not have you forever, but he’ll take tonight by the collar if it’s all he’ll get.

[neobubz]

The Tutor (M)

apologies that this story took so long. it was a long one to write and after writing the later half of it it 2x only for it to get deleted i didn't know if this was ever going to get finished. anyway, hope you like it nonetheless. enjoy ^^

Word Count: approx. 29k Pairing(s): tutor johnny (mr. suh) x fem reader feat. professor jaehyun (mr. jeong) Warning(s): explicit language, mdni (minors do not interact), smut, father johnny, johnny as a dad, infidelity, cheating, tutor x student, dubcon, slow burn, au, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), s*uiriting Preview (no spoilers here lol): Managing to shove them higher you put on a bright smile. “Well, then these are for you Mr. Suh! I also bought you some chocolates. My mom and dad like these. I always get it for them for their anni —” you stop yourself. “Sp-Special occasions. Or when I want something from them.” You turn your almost blunder into a joke. “I also have some flowers and chocolates for Lily. Mr. Jeong told me what her favorites are.”

Again you’re wrapped into a tight embrace. Mr. Suh’s body hunching over until his face is buried in your neck. “Thank you,” he pulls you close to him. “Thank you.” Disclaimer: because of the length of the story i am not able to format it the way i normally do. so again, my apologies. i'll keep this in mind going forward :)

It wasn’t as if you didn’t try. You did everything humanly possible to turn your grades around. Studying to all hours of the night. Going to the tutors on campus for help — all of which ran for the hills when they saw you coming. Even asking your bestie, Doyoung, for help. Knowing full well what a pickle you were in he volunteered as well. However, when he saw how truly helpless you were he forfeited and told you to change career paths.

Currently in your second year at Neo University, you were acing every class except one. One single class in which you were warned about. No one passed with flying colors, even Doyoung struggled. Doyoung, the Valedictorian when the two of you were in High School — excelling in his classes with flying colors in Elemntary and Middle school, but when it came to this class — barely passing with a D+. This class was a different beast all together. Some girls in your dormitory actually cried when their final grades came in. Only sending shivers down your spine for the following semester where you too would find yourself in tears time and time again. 

Sadly, all of your feeble attempts only resounded in a giant letter in blood red ink, F. Again! This has been your fifth F of the semester. Thankfully completing all of the homework assignments, even the extra problems was keeping your head above water. But still, an F was not what you wanted to see. Not only that, your teacher decided to emphasize the triumph with a thick red circle. And to top it off, scribbled underneath, ‘stay after class,’ written in beautiful cursive handwriting. This was it. The talk. You were dreading this moment. Every year, every teacher from primary school to secondary has given you the talk. 

‘What is wrong?’ ‘What aren’t you understanding?’ ‘If you were struggling this much you should have asked for help!’ ‘Have you tried a private tutor?’ Groaning you let your head fall flat onto your desk. Mr. Jeong wasn’t going to be any different. He was going to say the same things you’ve heard all your life. 

At this point you were sure that Math was just a big douche who loved to shit on you time and time again. Your personal kryptonite in the world. All of the functions, equations, a million fucking ways to do one single problem because some sick twisted asshole came around and said ‘hey, I’ve discovered a new method,’ only adding to everyone’s frustrations! Yeah, Math hated you and you hated it. Case closed.

When the bell rang and everyone scattered out of the classroom all to eager to leave, you stayed back, as instructed. Raising his arm and slicking back his dark brown hair — a habit Mr. Jeong had that made all the girls swoon, yourself included, he made his approach. Eyes dead set on you. Lips in a hard line, he pulled out the chair in front and turned it to face your desk before sitting down. 

“I’m guessing you know why I’ve asked you to stay back,” he starts a long tired sigh leaving him.

“I swear I’m trying!” You rush to get everything out before he even has a chance to ask you the same questions every other teacher has asked you. “I went down to the tutoring classroom. They all have decided I’m a lost cause. I even asked my friend who took your class last semester! He only looked at me like I’m stupid. I’m not stupid by the way,” you hiss surprising Mr. Jeong. A tiny smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve struggled with Math my whole life. No matter how hard I try to study I just can’t seem to grasp any of the concepts. At this point I’m pretty sure it’s my arch nemesis!”

“Why didn’t you seek my help from the very beginning?” He asks calmly.

“I don’t want to look like an idiot right off the bat! I hate being peoples’ ‘little project.’” You roll your eyes at the label you’ve been placed with since childhood.

Turning his head away Mr. Jeong covers his growing smile with the back of his hand disguising it as a cough. “Well, I for one don’t think you’re stupid.” 

“Really?!” 

If this were some kind of anime you know you’d be looking at him with shaky watery eyes, grateful that someone finally sees you — not as an idiot but as someone who has the capability to accomplish their hearts desires! But since is reality you settle for a stunned expression, your mouth hanging open.

“I just think you need some guidance. May I see your test?” Nodding you grab the paper from your folder sliding it to him. “Right here, you used the right equation, but made the tiniest error here,” he points with a blue pen circling the area of your mistake. Thank heavens it wasn’t a red pen. By the end of college you’ll never want to see the color red again.

Looking up at Mr. Jeong stunned you shake your head in disbelief. “S-So I just goofed?”

“Well, yes and no. Do you go over your work and double, triple check your answers?”

“I never know if I’m right or wrong and I get freaked out and second guess myself. So I just think it is what it is and hand in my paper. I promise I’ll triple, no! Quadruple check my work next time!”

“Checking your work is only half the problem. You still aren’t understanding all the equations.” He points to a few problems on the second page. “The equations are all wrong. You mixed the second page equation setup with the third page. So, ultimately, all of the answers are wrong.”

Groaning you slam your head on your desk. Mr. Jeong moving his hands away just in time before you made another blunder and crushed his fingers. “Maybe I am stupid. I’m sorry, Mr. Jeong.” 

“You’re not stupid. Please don’t call yourself that and please don’t slam your head down that hard. You’ll hurt yourself. Now, sadly, I myself am booked up solid with tutoring some of my other students. But, I do have a friend who I know can help you.”

“Really?!” You practically spring up from your seat.

“Y-Yes,” he moves away from you eyeing you suspiciously. “His name is Johnny Suh. He teaches Mathematics at a high school not far from here. If you don’t mind I can give him a call and see if he’s available to help you.”

“Yes! Please, Mr. Jeong! My mom is going to kill me if my grades don’t start taking a turn for the better.”

And with that you stand outside of Mr. Suh’s house, or mansion. Your head tilts to the side wondering how in the hell a high school teacher is able to live in a home that can be used in itself as a small school for children. Checking down at the address Mr. Jeong gave you, you check to make sure you were in the right spot. 7716 Zennie Drive. 

Shrugging you ring the doorbell and place a gentle knock on the door. After your talk with Mr. Jeong, the following day when you had his class he pulled you to the side as you walked in. Stating he talked to Mr. Suh, and he was more than willing to be your tutor. 

Apparently the two went way back to their early high school days as best friends. You were told you’d be taken care of but the only time Mr. Suh’s schedule was free was Wednesday, Friday and Saturday from 4PM to 7PM. Thankfully, you scheduled all your classes in the morning hours — your last class ending at 12PM, giving you ample time to eat and rest up before heading over to whom you hope is your saving grace. 

But the door has remained closed. No movement. No sounds coming from inside. Checking your phone you made sure that today was in fact, Wednesday. Yep. And it was 4:14PM. Having trouble locating the home at first put you behind schedule. Yet, you’re still standing outside the massive door and no one appears to be home. 

“Mr. Suh!” You knock on the door. 

Stepping back you wait. Shuffling back and forth you try to focus on any signs of life coming from behind the door when a blood curdling scream comes from the other side of the house.

Jumping at the sound your hand goes to your heart. “What the —” Looking around hoping you weren’t the only one who heard the scream you find yourself alone. Great…

Reaching into your pocket you grab your keys which hold not only a whistle, but a fresh new canister of pepper spray. Gripping the spray tightly in your hand you slowly make your way around the side of the house. 

“M-Mr. Suh…” you whisper. No answer. Sticking yourself to the wall of the home you make your way around the first corner only to see something you didn’t expect.

“No!” Another high-pitched scream pierces your ears.

“I’m going to get you!” An older gentleman chases after a small girl in a tutu around a massive backyard.

“No! The evil troll king!” The little girl wails. 

“Get back here with my gold!”

Blinking a few times you hope your mind is making up the scene in front of you. This is Mr. Suh?! The man in front of you appears to be around the same age as Mr. Jeong, but he is much more…he lets out such a light hearted laugh that you step back from him, handsome!!!

“Lord help me…” you whisper to yourself.

Mr. Jeong was already the hottest teacher on campus. Granted, not exactly your type. He held some kind of mystery behind his eyes that unsettled you the numerous times you made eye contact with him. Perhaps it was a look of pity he had knowing you were bombing his class, but there was something darker and mysterious. Something that made your stomach twist and turn. 

Many girls would gawk and stare when he’d walk across campus after his classes ended before his break. Admittedly so have you. Every time he walked it seemed as if there was a red carpet or some type of runway he was strutting down. The man was a living breathing luxury brand model! Definitely up there with the Versace or Prada models. 

Mr. Suh, gulping the saliva that was threatening to pour from your parted lips — he was a different type of handsome, and absolutely your type. Short jet black hair sticks to his forehead the longer he plays with the little girl. A loose fitted white button down shirt, with three buttons undone revealing a glimpse of his chest. A broad ches, and just the thought of what he looks like shirtless has your heart beating faster. You were entering dangerous waters with your gawking but you continued. Loose fitted trousers that didn’t give way to the shape of his legs but with the overall size of Mr. Suh, he absolutely has muscular legs. He just screamed toned.

“U-Uh,” you try to find your voice holding up your hand. “E-Excuse me,” you manage to squeak out.

Freezing, the little girl and who you assume is Mr. Suh turn in your direction. 

“Daddy!” The little girl cries out before running behind him. Her tiny hands clenching onto his pants — eyes peeking around him to look at you, before hiding once more.

Daddy? You stare wide-eyed. He’s a father, already?!

“I’m sorry,” you start to back away. “I don’t mean to intrude. I heard a scream and —”

“It’s fine,” a chuckle comes from the man. “You’re the student Jaehyun sent over, right?”

“Jaehyun?” Your head tilts. “M-Mr. Jeong?” 

Nodding, Mr. Suh walks forward, his daughter still clinging to him for dear life. “Sorry, yes. Mr. Jeong,” Johnny towers over you. “I’m Johnny Suh, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reaches out his hand.

Saying your name quickly, you enclose your hand around his only to gasp at the size difference. “N-Nice to meet you too…” you say in awe.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long. I lost track of time. This is my daughter, Lily.” He gestures to the girl glaring at you from behind him.

Bending down to her level you try to give her your sweetest smile. “Hi, Lily. It’s nice to meet you.”

“No!” She shouts at you and runs away from you and into the house.

“U-Uhhh…” a sliver of sweat rolls down the side of your face. 

“Lily!” Mr. Suh shouts. “I’m sorry, for her behavior. I think she’s a little shy.” He brushes his hair out of his face. “Please, come inside. So, Jaehyun told me you’re having trouble in his class,” he starts off the conversation.

“Y-Yes,” you quickly follow behind him. “No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to understand a single thing he’s teaching. I’ve tried asking for help on campus but no one seems to want to deal with me. It’s sad to say that you too may fall prey to my idiocy and drop me as well.”

Chuckling Mr. Suh slides open the glass door leading straight into the kitchen. “I’m sure we can figure out what the problem is.”

“I hope so. My mom’s going to kill me if my grades don’t improve soon.”

Taking off your shoes at the door you’re led to a small table in front of a window. “Please, have a seat and I’ll be right back. Would you like anything to drink while you wait?”

“A glass of water would be lovely.”

Heading over to his cupboard he grabs down a glass, goes to the fridge and pours you some water. Thinking he would do what your father always does when you ask for a glass of water and get it from the tap — this was definitely an act of kindness. 

“I’m just going to go check on Lily, then I’ll be right back.”

“I can leave and come back some other time if this is an inconvenience for you. I don’t want to take your time away from your daughter.”

“Nonsense. She’s just a little crabby today,” he rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t you get your book out and start on your assignment and I’ll be right back.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod and scramble to take out your book and binder.

When Mr. Suh was out of earshot you exhale a long deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. This is terrible. Absolutely terrible! Taking out your phone you shoot a quick message to your best friend Jennifer.

I’m in deep shit!  My tutor is soooo hot! Like fucking hot!  And he’s sooo tall! What do I do Jen?!!!!

Hiding your phone under your leg you wait for her reply. Having seen the time, she should be getting out of soccer practice soon and heading for the lockers. Twiddling your pencil in your hand you try to focus on the problem staring back at you.

This was going to be grueling. How is it that for the last year and a half you haven’t stepped foot in front of a man you thought was handsome — but when you need help because you’re a dumbass, the Universe places a walking Greek God before you? 

Then again, you scoff. “He’s married, you idiot.” You whisper. “And he’s a dad! Focus!!”

Finding a smidge of peace from your rampant thoughts you get to work. The homework seemed easy when Mr. Jeong was explaining it. All you had to do was follow the equation that you just learned. Simple enough.

Or so you thought... An eon went by and you were still staring at the first problem. Pencil snagged between your teeth, bite marks up and down the piece of wood. A personal habit you picked up specifically from Mr. Jeong’s class.

“You use this, to solve this.” You start talking to yourself quietly. “Then why is it so damn hard to solve this problem?!” 

“Stuck already?” A voice whispers next to your ear.

Jumping back, your phone crashing to the floor and you stare wide-eyed at Mr. Suh. With a small cat-like grin he takes a seat next to you, picking up your phone in the process.

“Didn’t mean to startle you. You were just hyper focused and I couldn’t resist.”

“Uh, y-yeah,” you reach for your phone only for it to slip out of your hands. “Shit,” you curse.

“About the language,” Mr. Suh clears his throat.

“Oh no!” You pop your head up from under the table. “Yes. No. I’m sorry. I know you have a child. I’m just nervous I guess. Please forgive me. It won’t happen again.”

Nodding he leans back in his chair. “Why are you nervous? Is Jaehyun stressing you out with all the work?”

“No!” You shout. “I mean,” you try to speak calmly. “I’m just nervous that you’ll find out I’m unteachable.”

“No one is unteachable. I’m sure Jaehyun will tell you the same thing. He’s given me a heads up on what you’re having trouble with, but if you don’t mind me asking, may I see your tests?”

Horror befalls you. He can’t be serious. He doesn’t actually want to see that travesty. Surely Mr. Jeong told him how much of a dumbass you were. He has to know that you are in desperate need of help.

“My-My tests?” 

“Yes. I want to see exactly where you’re struggling. This tutoring is going to be in regards to your Final. For the next two and a half months I’m going to try my best to bring your grade up so you can pass and put this class and Jaehyun behind you. In order to do that, I need to see everything that you’re struggling with.”

“Fine…” Opening your binder you fish out all of your tests and quizzes. Every proof of your failure. “I’ll understand if you want to quit while you’re ahead.” You squint your eyes tightly as you slide the papers over to him.

“Oh stop it can’t be —” he pauses mid-sentence his mouth falling open. “Oh, wow…” he mumbles.

“Yep. Told you. I’m stupid. Still want to take on this walking nightmare?”

“I mean he told me you were really struggling but I didn’t think this badly.” He glances up at you for a second to see the pout on your lips and in your eyes. “I’m not going to run away. I’m just shocked he waited until you were this deep in the hole to do something.” 

“Maybe he thought I would magically get better.”

“He said his schedule is booked solid with tutoring other students?” 

“Yep.”

“He’s so blind,” Mr. Suh shakes his head. “Okay, how about today I help you with your homework for Monday, and by tomorrow I’ll have a study plan and a guide all made up for you!” 

“Eh?! You still want to help me? Are you sure? I won’t be upset if you say no. Even my best friend abandoned me.”

Laughing he waves a dismissive hand. “Believe it or not, Jaehyun wasn’t the Math genius he is today. Even when he was back in college he struggled a little. We all need help every now and then.”

“Thank you, Mr. Suh! I won’t let you down!”

Just like he promised, he helped you with your homework. Shockingly only looking at you incredulously a few times when he needed to dumb everything down for you to the point his daughter would be able to understand. Feeling a little better after your first tutoring session, you head back to your dorm with your head held high. Maybe this was going to be your second wind. A power up to keep you in the game.

You were sure of one thing. You would not let Mr. Suh down. 

When you got to your dorm room your best friend, Jennifer was waiting impatiently outside the door. Her fingers being gnawed by her teeth. “Where the hell have you been? I was worried about you. I tried calling and texting back.”

“Eh?” You grab your phone. “My phone was on the whole —” you press the home button but it doesn’t turn on. “This can’t be. I charged it before I left. I had a full battery.”

Pressing the small button on the side you find your phone had been turned off completely. A cold shiver rakes over you. Did Mr. Suh turn off your phone when he picked it up? Your Lock Screen appearing, a text from your friend the only thing displayed.

A hot tutor?! How hot is he? A scale of 0-10? Take a picture I want to see!

Gulping you show her your phone. “I-I think Mr. Suh turned off my phone. Jen! What do I do? What if he saw your message?! How can I show my face around him again? He probably thinks I’m disgusting! He’s a married man with a child! What do I do?!” You stomp around like a child as you open your door.

“Don’t freak out. Maybe he just turned it off. He could have a no phone policy.”

“You think?”

Nodding she ushers you to your bed where she plops down beside you. “So, tell me everything! Seriously! How hot is he?”

Giving his daughter one last kiss, Johnny wishes her a goodnight and sweet dreams. Today was a day like no other. Little did he know when he decided to take on this job of being a tutor would he find out that his student needed a savior imstead. Sighing he reaches into his pocket for his phone. 

Jaehyun had a lot of explaining to do. Why he didn’t tell him you were so far behind in your studies? When he said one of his students needs help and he’s booked solid he assumed it was just a normal case of an over achieving student. Seeing your grades brought on a whole other problem. You would need to get at least a B+ on your final to even have a passing grade. Why would he let you get so far behind, and how does Jaehyun expect you to get your grades up in such a short period of time?

It just didn’t make sense. Jaehyun has always been active in the Math Lab, as well as private tutoring jobs on the weekends. During his breaks he helps any student who can’t meet up with him after his usual working hours. Something had to be up. There is no way he would let you slip through the cracks like this.

Holding the phone to his ear, Johnny steps away from his daughters room.

“Hey!” Jaehyun says on the other end. “How did it go?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Johnny hisses quietly. “Why did you let her get to this point? When I saw her grades I thought I was seeing things! Seriously, Jaehyun…what the hell is going on?”

“I didn’t intend for this to happen.” Jaehyun snaps defensively. “I’ve been booked solid since the semester started. She was doing poor in the beginning but so were a lot of other students. This course is one of the hardest courses to teach and learn. I figured if she was really having trouble she would ask me for help or go to the Math Lab.”

“She’s in deep trouble, you know that, right?”

“Of course I know that. Which is why I sent her to you. Plus,” Jaehyun pauses alarming Johnny. “I wouldn’t have been a good tutor for her anyway.”

“Why not? You’re her teacher! You know all the answers! How would you not be a good tutor?” Johnny heads for his study.

Mumbling into the phone Jaehyun confesses. “A conflict of interest.”

Stopping dead in his tracks Johnny stares out into the empty hallway. Jaehyun had to be kidding. He couldn’t have possibly — “For fuck’s sake, man…”

“I know. I didn’t intend for this to happen. I don’t even know when it happened. But it did. That’s why I sent her to you. You are the only person who can help her. I talked to those in the Math Lab and they can barely help the students who understand the basic concepts of what I’m teaching. She was never going to get help from them. I would help her but I can’t.” 

“No shit!” Johnny rubs his forehead feeling a migraine slowly creeping up. “I’ll handle things here. She seems to need a lot of one-on-one guidance. What you’re teaching her isn’t hard but at the same time it is. Exactly what major is she in?”

“Well, this class is for those who are education majors. Primarily those who want to teach either Elementary or Middle School. Sorry for all this. I really wish I could help.”

“Yeah, I know. I may need to push some things around,” Johnny opens the door to his study. Off to the side a liquor cabinet rests with his favorite brands of wine, brandy and vodka. Putting his phone on speaker he pours himself a glass of vodka. The tension already leaving his body. “If I’m to help her get a B, she’ll need help everyday.” He chugs down the hard liquor wincing as it burns the back of his throat.

“What about Lily?”

Laughing, Johnny plops down into his chair. Your face when Lily ran away from you resurfacing. “Lily got scared of her and ran away. She asked me who she was and then asked if she would be around a lot more,” he smiles gently. “She had such a sour face it was hilarious.”

“So, Lily’s staying strong?” Jaehyun asks gently. 

Swirling the small amount of liquid left in his glass Johnny exhales. “As good as can be expected. She still doesn’t understand what’s going on. Hell, neither do I.”

“Have you heard from —”

Johnny quickly stops him. “No! And I don’t want to talk about her,” he glares at the snug silver ring wrapped around his finger. A daily reminder of the love of his life’s betrayal. “I’m done with her.” He touches the ring, fiddling with it. “I’ve given up. It’s been two years. I need to focus on Lily.” He slides the ring up his finger but pushes it back down. 

“I really am sorry man. I thought she was the one.”

“Me too…”

Looking at the problems you do exactly what Mr. Suh told you to do. Breathe. Take your time. Go through each step slowly. There is no need to rush when it comes to homework. It’s all about understanding the basic fundamentals and building confidence. Solve the problem and get an answer. Check so that you don’t miss anything and especially check to see if you made a mistake and got the answer wrong. Everything seemed to be going great. For once your confidence seemed like it was soaring. Then again…

“Only three right?!” You slam your pencil down onto your small desk in your room. This was useless. For the past two hours you worked hard to try to figure out the problems. Doing exactly as instructed only to end up with three out of seven answers right!

The worst part is that you don’t understand where you got the problems wrong. Which part did you have a hiccup and why you didn’t see it and how you can avoid it for next time. You did everything right. Triple checked to see if you missed a step or did something wrong and yet, the same thing happens. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

Closing your book for the night you trudge to your bed plopping down. Tomorrow you’ll ask Mr. Suh where you made a mistake and hopefully he can help you.

Mr. Suh, you try to hold back the smile creeping on your face. After having talked with Jennifer you were for sure going to love and dread spending time with him. Love, getting help and finally seeing your grades turn around for the better — at least that’s what you’re hoping, but also for the eye candy factor. His whole presence just made you feel weak in the knees. The dreadful part, actually having to learn all this bullshit your University was calling Math and the fact that Mr. Suh is a married man. 

“His wife,” you whisper. “Why wasn’t she home too?”

Shrugging, you tear your thoughts away from her unknown whereabouts. Whoever she is she’s most likely beautiful. To find a man as handsome as Mr. Suh, and have a cute daughter like Lily, she’s bound to be a gorgeous woman. Someone who works to help others just like Mr. Suh being a teacher and willing to help you. A power couple and their precious angel.

Rolling over onto your back aggressively, you kick your legs like a child. If only you could find your one true love too. To have what Mr. Suh has. Actually, first, you need to get through Mr. Jeong’s class, then find yourself a job, and then you can worry about finding a man. Just as your eyes start to close your phone dings startling you. An unknown number and a message sits on your Lock Screen, making you spring up.

Next time the cellphone gets turned off when the lesson begins. No distractions while you’re under my tutelage. You can swing by tomorrow around 1PM. We’ll have more time to work. Sleep well. You’ll need it. J.Suh

And boy was he serious when he said you would need sleep. Actually, for the past three weeks he’s been working you like a dog. Having put together and entire binder of what to expect on the Final. What you didn’t understand from all of your quizzes, tests, and the Midterm. A Bible of information completely personalized to suit your needs. Every day you went over to Mr. Suh’s house to get help. When you showed up on Saturday after your first study session, he stated he thinks you should come by every day. Monday through Friday your lessons were from 3PM- 7PM. On Saturday’s, secretly the worst day out of the week, you spent six grueling hours being tutored. Sunday your only saving grace.

Honestly, how a man who teaches all day can have the energy to help your dumbass self is beyond you. But, there was a silver lining. At the end of each day, Mr. Suh would create a tiny three question pop quiz talking about the main concepts he helped you with. And after the first week — a complete travesty, you actually started to grow in confidence. The problems were making sense and with this last pop quiz, you got all the answers right! 

His method of madness was actually working. He taught you something! After that small victory you were positive you could end up learning what Mr. Jeong was teaching and you would find a way to turn your grades around. On the topic of grades, that is one thing Mr. Suh never talked to you about. On three separate occasions you asked him what grade you needed to get on your final in order to pass. He would brush the question off by saying,

‘The final is a long ways from now. Let’s focus on your upcoming test.’ 

However, today is the day you’re getting back your first test since you started getting tutored by Mr. Suh. When you were taking it, you heart started to beat quickly. The numbers and questions becoming blurred and spiraling out of control but thinking about everything you’ve learned you took a deep breath and focused. The whole class was empty by the time you finished. Mr. Jeong waiting patiently as you took up until the bell to complete it. 

Now, you’ll see whether or not your efforts were in vain — that is as soon as Mr. Jeong shuts up and hands you back your damn test! 

“Okay, you can start packing up,” Mr. Jeong places the whiteboard marker down onto his desk. “I’ll be handing back your tests from last week. Please if you have any questions or concerns, feel free to ask me.”

Your leg starts to shake. Your pencil rammed into your mouth. This is it. He makes his way across the first row. One by one you see your classmates expressions. Some surprised, some angry, some…well, you know that look all to well. Defeated. As you stare at each of your classmates your nerves start to take over you. Your whole body tingling with anticipation. Mr. Suh would be in the middle of teaching his second class by now and told you to send him a message about how you did around lunchtime. 

Mr. Jeong stops in front of you. His eyes unreadable. Lips in a hard line. He grabs the corner of your paper flipping it over onto the back before moving onto the next student. Saying a quick prayer you turn the paper over. 

Your whole body becomes numb. A cold sweat spreading over your skin like wildfire. This can’t be happening. Flipping through the pages of your test you go over everything with a fine tooth comb. But it was happening. In very bold and almost threatening letters, ‘stay after,’ was bleeding through the first page onto the second. 

The bell rings and everyone leaves except for you. Again. Not even bothering to pack up your belongings until after Mr. Jeong had a word with you, you wait until the last student leaves his classroom. He wishes them well and closes the door. Gulping you sit up straight. 

“I think we should talk about your test,” Mr. Jeong starts.

“Y-Yes, sir…”

He saunters up to you, once again seeming like the ground is his runway — pulls out the chair in front of you and sits down. Combing his fingers through his hair he shows you something you never expected to see. A huge smile with his dimples on display. 

“Congrats!” He leans back into the chair. “You did a wonderful job!”

“Wonderful?!” You scoff. “I got a C- practically a D! How is that wonderful?!” You point to the paper. “After all this work I thought I would for sure get an A this time.”

Laughing, Mr. Jeong turns his face to hide his rather beautiful smile. Something else you would have never expected to see from him. 

“Trust me. You did a wonderful job. You can’t expect in such a short time to see massive results. You should feel proud of yourself.” He rests his hands on your desk. “Seriously, this is making me feel that you won’t have to take this course again next semester.”

“That would be a gift from God himself,” you mumble only to realize what you said. “Ah! S-Sorry Mr. Jeong, it’s just —”

“I understand. When I had to learn how to teach this course I wanted to run away myself. It’s not easy and I know it’s hard to learn. I’m just glad you’re doing better.”

“Well, it’s thanks to you and Mr. Suh. I owe everything to the two of you.”

“Speaking of Mr. Suh, how is everything?”

“Great!” You beam at him. “Mr. Suh went through all of my old tests and quizzes and pointed out where I made mistakes. How to solve the problems and how to find my errors,” you bring out the binder he created for you. “He’s gone above and beyond anything I’ve ever experienced and I’m so grateful for that.” 

Mr. Jeong takes a look at the binder his eyes widening. You were right. This was going above and beyond the call of duty. Scanning over the little quizzes he’s even given you, Mr. Jeong’s happy demeanor starts to fade. He was happy you were doing better, but at the same time he knows full well he would have never thought of doing this for you or any of his students. 

“Impressive,” he clears his throat. “I’ll have to treat Johnny to a beer or two for his help.” He hands you back the binder. “So, everything is okay? He’s treating you nicely?”

“Oh, yes! He’s very nice! I’m truly grateful for all the help he’s given me.”

Nodding, Mr. Jeong leans forward. “I’m happy for you. I do want to apologize for not trying to do something to help you sooner.”

“No. It’s totally fine. It was my fault. I should have asked for help, or asked questions in class — something so that my grades didn’t fall to this point. Oh! Mr. Jeong, I’ve been wondering, exactly what grade do I need to get on my final in order to pass your class? Mr. Suh keeps avoiding the question which is making me a little nervous.”

“Oh, uh,” Mr. Jeong turns from you his eyes trembling. “I think if Mr. Suh wants you to focus on your studies that’s what you need to worry about. The final is still some time away.”

Pouting you glare at him. “It’s going to be impossible for me to pass this class isn’t it?”

“No, it’s just going to take a lot of work,” he rubs the back of his neck. “If you want, we can get a better look at your grades and what you need to do in order to pass this class.”

“Yes, please!”

“Well, I’m free for this break period. Unless you have a class.”

“Nope. My next class doesn’t start until 11.” 

“Great, follow me then.”

Quickly you pack up your belongings into your backpack and follow Jaehyun through the hallway where people were coming and going to their classes. As you make your way through the halls you notice that people are staring your way with strange gazes. They weren’t shocked, or angry, more like perplexed with a dash of spite. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. 

Jeong Jaehyun, Mr. Jeong, the campus hottie. The Professor every girl and woman wishes to have but only those in the Education department ever get. Joy and rapture. Walking beside him you glance up to see his side profile. He is very handsome. Eyes laser focused on the path he’s walking. Shoulders straight, broad, with a natural sway that shows nothing but confidence. Even his strides excude confidence. Upon further inspection he dresses nicely as well. 

On most occasions he wears a button down white shirt, black slacks, with black shoes and a gold watch. Very simple yet on him, luxurious. The only person you think that can compete with such a simple style is Mr. Suh. Laughing to yourself you see how they became friends. They have a similar aura about them but Mr. Suh is a lot easier to be around. Then again, it’s probably because he’s not your Professor and you’re not terrified of failing his class.

“Exactly how long are you going to stare at me?” Mr. Jeong asks you a playful tone in his voice. 

“E-Eh?! Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” 

Keeping your eyes down at your feet you walk a few steps behind him ashamed of your ogling. It wasn’t like you to stare at someone so shamelessly. Then to be caught red handed, the embarrassment sweeping over you is all consuming. 

“I don’t mind the staring,” Mr. Jeong continues. “I get stared at all the time.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I really didn’t mean to stare.”

“Please, class is over. You can call me Jaehyun.”

Stopping dead in your tracks you stare at your Professor. There is no way in hell you can call him, Jaehyun. You are his student and he the teacher. It would be improper. 

“I don’t think I can,” you chuckle nervously.

“When you’re with Johnny, what do you call him?”

“Mr. Suh.”

“All the time?”

Nodding you smile. “He is my tutor after all. He’s there to help me. Not to be my friend. Plus, he’s already taking a good chunk of his time to help me instead of spending it with his wife and daughter.”

“His wife?” Mr. Jeong walks up to you. “What do you mean his wife?” He grabs you by your shoulders.

“U-Uh, well I haven’t seen her at all, but he has a wedding band.”

Sighing in relief Mr. Jeong releases your shoulders. “Oh, okay. Sorry about that.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Has Johnny talked to you about his wife?”

“No, she never comes up in conversation. Actually, nothing personal has come up at all. It’s strictly school work and studying.”

Nodding Mr. Jeong starts walking again, heading down the stairs. The light atmosphere surrounding the two of you long gone the moment you mentioned Mr. Suh’s wife. Was she a sensitive topic? For the last three weeks you’ve wondered why each night you never saw her. By the time your tutoring sessions ended it was 7PM, she would have at least come home by then. 

A thought strikes across your mind. What if she’s sick? What if she can’t get out of bed and that’s the reason you’ve never seen her. Slowly your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach. Mr. Suh’s wife lying in bed ill. Not able to play with her precious daughter, or spend time with her husband in their beautiful home — at least what you’ve seen of it. Smiling brightly you plan out something just for her. A gift that will hopefully brighten her day. 

Holding open the door to the side of the building, Mr. Jeong allows you to walk outside first. “Mr. Jeong,” you keep up with his pace. “What type of woman is Mr. Suh’s wife?”

“She, uh,” he starts fumbling over his words. A strange sight for the suave Professor everyone adores. “Wh-Why do you want to know?”

“I want to get her something. I can only assume that since I’ve never seen her she must be sick, right? I can’t imagine what Mr. Suh must be going through. Juggling work, his daughter, his wife, and now me. He truly is a saint.”

“No. You’ve got it all wrong,” he grabs your wrist stopping you. “Johnny, his wife, she’s not sick.”

Your heart that was wading in the dark depths of your stomach instantly bounces back to its proper place. “Well that’s wonderful news! I still want to thank her for sharing her husband. I know all this tutoring must be an inconvenience for her. I was thinking of getting her chocolates and flowers. Does that sound like a good idea?”

Shaking his head Mr. Jeong runs a stressful hand through his hair. “No. It doesn’t. She won’t get them.”

“Why won’t she?”

“She left. She’s gone. Don’t ever bring her up in front of Johnny or Lily.”

Gasping you cover your mouth with your hands. “Sh-She died?!”

Sighing, Mr. Jeong grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours he leads you straight to the student center. The stares that you receive inside the Mathematics building has now tripled. Mr. Jeong’s eyes glaring ahead making everyone part way as if he were Moses and they the Red Sea. Looking down at your hands intertwined with his, your heart skips a beat. This was inappropriate, especially on campus. If someone saw you and asked you what the hell was with the hand holding how would you explain it?

Trying to tug your hand away from his he holds onto you tighter. Glancing back at you for a second, brows furrowed and his lips in the tightest line they all but disappeared. He was in no mood for you to try to escape. Letting go of the possibility of walking next to him you get tugged along like an insolent child. 

Straight into the Student Center you’re taken into the elevator where he keeps a firm hold of your hand. Only when the elevator reaches the third floor does he let go — his peers and other campus staff becoming visible. Greeting everyone whom he sees cheerfully he takes you back to his office. Opening the door he tells you to have a seat at the available chair in front of his desk. Quickly sitting you hold your backpack against your chest terrified of what he’s going to say to you. He takes a seat exhaling deeply, eyes and face looking exhausted. 

“You don’t have to look so scared.” He slides into his desk facing you.

“You looked like you were going to yell at me any second while you dragged me across campus.”

“I’m sorry about that. I just needed to get you to a quiet secluded place before I continued our conversation.”

“Why did it need to be quiet and secluded?”

“The whole campus doesn’t need to know about my best friend’s problems. Plus, you know people around here. Whether they have the whole story or not what they hear they talk about. Now, what I’m going to tell you needs to stay between the two of us. I will know if you tell anyone because no one and I repeat no one knows Johnny, and no one knows what is going on in his life. So if I hear his name or his daughter’s name and what is going on I will fail you!”

“Isn’t that blackmail?” You tilt your head. “Also, I’m pretty sure you can’t fail me without a legitimate reason.” Mr. Jeong stares at you blankly. He really wasn’t in the mood for lighthearted jokes. “I’m sorry. I understand.”

“Johnny and Lily were left behind by his wife and her mother. One night while he was in his study she packed a bag and left without telling him where she would was going and for how long. It was right after Lily’s third birthday. She’s now five. They haven’t heard a word from her for over two years. He’s sensitive when it comes to her. 

“If you think he’s married it means he still has his wedding band on. For the last year he’s told me he’s done with her. He’s done waiting and that he doesn’t want to see or hear from her ever again, but if you saw that he still has his ring on — that means he’s still holding onto the hope that she’ll come back. Lily doesn’t remember her mom that much, but she does ask about her. If she asks you don’t tell her anything. Johnny’s told her that she is sick and in a special hospital.”

“Why doesn’t he tell her the truth?”

“She’s five. She wouldn’t understand.”

“Still, when she gets older and the ‘mom is sick and in the hospital’ story stops working what will he do then? Tell his daughter that her father is a liar. So not only did her mother ditch her but now her father is a liar.”

He shakes his head sighing. “You’re young, you don’t understand.”

“Mr. Jeong, I may be young, but I’m not stupid. My father has kept me a secret from his entire family. Apparently their super religious who at the time that he ran away were two seconds from joining a cult. He told me right away when I was old enough to understand why I couldn’t see his family. I’ve only grown up with my mom’s side. 

“For years they had to repeat the story until it sunk in, but they were honest. If I had questions they let me ask them no matter how many times they had to answer the same questions. Lily is young now, but she is five years old. What will Mr. Suh do when she realizes that her father can’t keep telling her that mommy is in the hospital and him not taking her to see her once. She’s going to realize that.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your family,” Mr. Jeong looks at you bewildered. “I understand your point, but she’s his daughter.”

Mr. Jeong was right. Neither he or you or anyone else had the right to tell Mr. Suh how to raise his own child. He knows what’s best for her. If he thinks she’s still too young to understand it is in her best interest to keep things a secret. Plus, his wife may one day come back into her life. It probably is better for her to be left in the dark for now.

“Do you believe she’ll ever come back?”

“I hope she doesn’t. He’s my best friend. I watched a man who was living out his dream life with the woman he loves come crashing down to earth without a parachute. All because of her selfishness. So, no. I don’t want her back. She’ll only hurt him and leave him again when things get tough.”

“Being a wife and mother was too much for her?”

“No one knows. She never talked to anyone at all about what she was going through. Not even Johnny.” 

“Do you think Lily would like some flowers and chocolates then?” A smile comes to your face. “I have been borrowing her dad for the past three weeks. I feel terrible for taking up so much of his time.”

Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Jeong smiles sweetly. Dimples on full view, eyes sparkling with something you can’t quite pinpoint. “I think she would love that.”

“Okay. I’ll be sure to head out and get some goodies for her before I go over to his house today. Now, about my grades…”

When lunch came around you sent a photo of your grade with a text saying that Mr. Jeong was very proud of you. Putting your phone up to charge you head off to take a small nap before you go out and look for some flowers and chocolates for Lily, and even something for Mr. Suh to show your appreciation.

Now knowing why you haven’t seen his wife you can’t help but wonder why she left in the first place. Their home is beautiful, Lily from the small glances you’ve seen of her before she scurries away — apparently still cautious of you, is a lovely child and she’s cute as a button! Mr. Suh is, well, delectable, so why did she leave?

Trying not to dwell too much on Mrs. Suh’s absence, you head off to dreamland hoping to get some rest before another grueling day of studying. But, instead of getting a decent rest, your brain apparently concocted a very intense and wet dream. Starring none other than Mr. Suh.

It started out like a normal tutoring session. You were trying your best to solve a problem, but kept messing up. Mr. Suh in his usual lounge wear, a loose fitted shirt — exposing just enough of his chest to have you drooling, leans over to you giving you a chance to be wrapped in the heavenly aroma of his cologne. As he helps you to solve the problem you can feel his breath tickling your neck. His lips feel so close that you swear he presses them against your skin, but he never laid a hand on you. 

Once he was finished explaining he waited patiently until you finished. Eyes watching you carefully, roaming up and down your face when you meet his gaze. His irises seemed darker, pupils dilated, and mouth ajar as he bit his pen gently between his beautiful white teeth. 

Feeling shy you get back to your work when a hand on your thigh makes you look up, only to meet Mr. Suh’s lips. A whimper escapes you. His large strong hands cupping your face keeping you close to him. Lips smacking against each other’s, you melted into the kiss and his touch. One hand traveling down your body until it reaches your waist. Gripping you tightly he pulls you over to him. Half your body dangling over his lap. 

“Sit on my lap.” He tells you between kisses. “I want to feel you on top of me.”

As you clammer to your feet going to straddle him your alarm blared loudly before you had a chance to finish the dream. Sitting up in your bed, body sticky with sweat, you opt to take a quick shower and change into more comfortable clothes. A nice cold shower should get your mind out of the gutter. 

Once fully dried and and no longer thinking of fucking your tutor, you change into a pair of distressed blue denim jeans and a loose gray hoodie before grabbing your phone, keys, purse, and backpack to head out and get Lily and Mr. Suh something special. On your way out your door you hear a ding from your phone. 

Great job! 

I’m so proud of you and I hope you’re proud of yourself too! I’m thinking something special should be done to commemorate this momentous occasion.  We’ll need to think of something together. See you later. J. Suh

You can’t help the bright smile spreading across your face as you merrily skip down the hallway to the staircase. Feeling like you just won the lottery you truly feel proud of yourself. Both Mr. Suh and Mr. Jeong, praising you for your efforts. There was no doubt in your mind. You have to find something nice to thank Mr. Suh for everything that he’s done.

Thanks to Mr. Jeong you knew which kind of chocolates to get Lily and what kind of flowers were her favorite. The Best Uncle of the Year, his words exactly, coming in handy with loads of information. It didn’t take long to shop around for Lily, but what the Best Friend of the Year, another term he boldly stated, didn’t do was help you with Mr. Suh. Stating clearly, ‘he’ll be appreciative of anything you get him.’ 

So, you decided to get him some flowers too, a small assortment, and some chocolates of his very own. Fancier chocolates that your parents love to nibble on every now and then. Men like chocolate too, you assert in your mind. 

Driving over to Mr. Suh’s you can’t help but feel antsy. Feeling nervous about interacting with Lily makes your stomach churn painfully. She’s made sure to keep her distance from you. Eyeing you skeptically whenever she does grace you with her presence. Time and time again, Mr. Suh tries to get her to say hi to you properly but to no avail.

This doesn’t help solidify your dream job of being an Elementary teacher. Especially when an Elementary school aged child wants nothing to do with you. 

Pulling up to Mr. Suh’s house you see his car in the driveway. Your heart starts beating faster as you gather everything — putting your purse safely in the trunk since you won’t be needing it inside his house. Trying your best to hold the two small bouquets, you duck walk up to the front door. Before you can even ring the bell, Mr. Suh opens it with a bright smile on his face.

“Welcom—” he stops staring at you. “What in the world…”

“Uh, I uh,” you fiddangle the bouquets holding the one out for him. “I wanted to say thank you for helping me. Without your help I would never have gotten that C and I would probably be swimming in a sea of failure rethinking my life choices and career right now. So, I uh, just got these to say thank you. Ummm.. th-thank you!” 

Blinking, he bounces from your face then to the flowers. Not making any attempt at reaching for them. Just like on the first day, a single strand of sweat trickles down the side of your face. This was a terrible idea. A card would have sufficed. A thank you for tolerating my dumbass for the past three weeks card and maybe a gift card to a restaurant. But no, you didn’t think of that. 

Lowering the bouquet you turn in the direction of the trash can that was sitting out by the curb for tomorrow. “Th-This was stupid, huh?” Your face starts burning up. “I-I’ll just dispose of these.” 

Turning around you head down the two steps to the pathway leading down to the driveway. Halfway down the path you're whipped around and wrapped in a tight hug. The flowers becoming squished in the process. Looking up at the person engulfing you in a constrictor hug you find Mr. Suh. Becoming stiff as a statue you glance around wondering if this is your mind playing tricks on you or if it is indeed real. After that dream you had this surely couldn’t be real. 

“Don’t throw them out,” he whispers, holding you even tighter. 

“O-Okay,” you murmur, body starting to relax. “S-So you like them?”

Chuckling he pulls away from you enough to look down into your eyes. “I love them. It was very thoughtful of you.”

Managing to shove them higher you put on a bright smile. “Well, then these are for you Mr. Suh! I also bought you some chocolates. My mom and dad like these. I always get it for them for their anni —” you stop yourself. “Sp-Special occasions. Or when I want something from them.” You turn your almost blunder into a joke. “I also have some flowers and chocolates for Lily. Mr. Jeong told me what her favorites are.”

Again you’re wrapped into a tight embrace. Mr. Suh’s body hunching over until his face is buried in your neck. “Thank you,” he pulls you close to him. “Thank you.”

Proud of yourself for the second time today you wrap your arms around your tutor. How long has it been since someone other than family or Mr. Jeong showed him kindness? How long has it been since they thought to do something for him and his daughter? Hearing a sniff your ears perk up. 

“Mr. Suh?”

Stepping away from you he quickly wipes his eyes. “Ahh, that’s embarrassing,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry about me. It’s just been a while.”

“Daddy?” A small voice comes from the door. “Daddy!”

“What is it sweetheart?” He quickly leaves your side rushing over to Lily. 

Taking in a huge breath holding it in as you make your approach to the Princess of the mansion. You get down on your haunches and show her the bouquet of flowers.

“Hi Lily, we haven’t really met each other yet.” She goes behind Mr. Suh looking around his legs at you. Introducing yourself, you reach out the flowers towards her. “A little birdie told me that your favorite flowers are Tiger Lilies. Is this true?”

The moment she looks down at the flowers her little eyes light up. Slowly letting go of Mr. Suh’s legs, she comes in front of you. Looking up at her dad he laughs happily.

“They’re for you, sweetheart,” he pats her head.

Reaching out she takes the bouquet smelling each flower her tiny nose can reach. “I love these,” she wraps her arms around the flowers.

“I also heard you like Snickers,” you pull out some candy for her. 

Again her eyes light up. “I love them too!!” She squeals while taking the chocolate. “Daddy look!”

“I see. Now what do we say when we receive a gift?”

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“Go on inside and we’ll put these flowers in some water,” he shoos Lily inside. 

“Okay!”

Running off she leaves the two of you alone. Standing back up, you can’t help but smile lovingly at the little girl. She really is cute. 

“Thank you for this,” Mr. Suh calls you to attention. “I haven’t seen her this happy in a while. It really means a lot to me.”

“Well, I just figured I should surprise her and give her something because I am borrowing her dad. I know you’d rather spend your time with your daughter and relaxing after work, but because of me you can’t do that for a while.” 

“It’s not all bad,” he walks into his home and you follow. “Having you around these last three weeks has been fun.”

“Liar.” 

Mr. Suh lets out a hardy laugh while you both head into the kitchen. Sitting your bag down at the table like usual you watch him and his daughter put the flowers you gave them in some water. Then, Mr. Suh giving Lily some of her candy you brought her. But what shocked you is when she came running up to you with her arms open wide.

“I love my presents! Thank you!” She hugs you. Stunned you barely have time to hug her back before she lets you go running off to play. 

“Wow…” you look back at Mr. Suh. “I thought she hated me.”

“No way! She’s been curious about you. She asks me questions most nights before she goes to sleep.”

“She does?” Shocked, you stare in the direction she left in.

“Yes,” Mr. Suh sits down with a cup of coffee and he ever so politely brings you one as well. “She’s very cautious. We don’t have many visitors. Most of the family is a good distance away from us.” He takes a sip, his body relaxing. “The only time we see them is during the holiday’s. Shame really. She has cousins around her age but she barely gets to spend time with them.”

“Have you ever thought of moving?”

What the hell are you saying?! You curse yourself. 

“I have but this is the only home she knows. Plus,” he fiddles with his wedding band. “I’m still holding out for something.”

Staring down at his ringed finger fire burns inside of you. How can a woman be so selfish to leave the man she loved hanging by a thread? If she wanted to leave, okay. But you just don’t up and leave and never come back and don’t officially break things off! That is cowardly and selfish! 

“Anytime Lily wants to hang out, I’m available,” you try to bring the subject back to something lighter. “I think as long as I give her candy I’ll be on her good side, right?” 

“Bribery, already?” He looks stunned. “You’re not even a teacher yet and you’re resorting to such tactics.”

Stunned, you stare at him with wide eyes. “A-A teacher? How did you know?”

“Jaehyun. The course he’s teaching is for Education majors, is it not?”

“Right,” you scratch the back of your neck. “Forgot about that. Oh! Mr. Jeong said he may owe you one or two beers for helping me. Make sure he keeps that promise!”

Pulling out your holy binder of math, you get things ready for today's lesson.

“Actually,” Mr. Suh places his hand on top of yours. “Why don’t we skip today’s lesson? We should celebrate your accomplishment.”

“Accomplishment? I got a C-, that means ‘C better luck next time.’”

Laughing, Mr. Suh shakes his head. “Well I see it as ‘C, she can be taught.’ So, listen to your tutor. We’re taking a break today.”

“A break...” You nod sitting back in the chair. “O-Oh! A break! I’m sorry! You probably have something planned for Lily!” Quickly you start packing your backpack. “I’m sorry, I should have read between the lines. I’ll hurry up so you two can spend the evening together.”

“Stop!” Mr. Suh’s voice booms in your ears, startling you. “Like I said earlier, we need to celebrate your accomplishment.” Standing up, he starts to walk away. “Come, follow me.” 

Gulping, your palms turning sweaty you ring them on your jeans before standing up. Mr. Suh leads you back into the living room and this time you have a chance to really look around. Everything was immaculate. White carpet with white furniture. A black stoned fireplace. A large flat screen tv sitting above it. A few plants in the corners of the room and a couple on the coffee table and end tables. Something you would see out of a magazine. Not really a homey touch. Something that seems to fit his style more so than a style that suits a home with a little girl. 

Leaving the living room you’re taken down a corridor to a room where he opens the door with a key. Placing the key back into his pocket your heart starts to beat faster. What in the world could he be hiding? A room that needs to be locked! Thinking back on the movie Fifty Shades of Grey you slowly start to back away. Afraid that Mr. Suh has some weird fetish that he’s about to unleash on you — however, you’re taken aback when the room turns out to be a normal study. 

Slumping forward your heart slows down. Thank goodness…

“It’ll just be a small glass,” he holds the door open for you. “I thought we could celebrate with some wine. You’re old enough to drink, right?”

Glaring you turn to his direction. “I’ve been able to drink for a while now, Mr. Suh. Do I really look that young?”

Chuckling he goes into a cabinet taking out two wine glasses. “You do actually. You still have that ‘the world is my oyster’ glow about you. Go on, pick one.”

“I don’t know wines. I know beer but not wine.”

Snorting he shakes his head. “College days,” he grabs a bottle of red wine pouring you a smaller glass than himself. “You’ll learn when you’re older.”

“You’re not that much older, Mr. Suh. And yet you speak like you’re well into your forties.”

Sitting down on the couch in his study he lets out a huge tired sigh. “Some days it feels like I’m pushing fifty.”

Joining him at the opposite end making sure you don’t intrude on his space you take a small sip. The taste making you cringe slightly but it was smoothe going down. The last wine you had was like drinking tanbark — woody with a dryness of a desert. This held a tinge of sweetness.

“What’s it like to be a dad?” 

“Pardon?” He looks at you surprised. 

“Sorry for the sudden question,” you giggle realizing it was really an out of the blue question. “I just mean, Lily is awfully cute. I don’t have any friends who are already parents. I know personally I want three kids one day. A boy, a girl, and then to adopt or foster a child. That’s been my goal since I was a kid. Perhaps I should have asked, what’s it like to be a parent?”

“Hard.” He stirs the liquid in his glass. “People who don’t have children see the good and bad moments. When the child is well behaved or is so cute you can’t help but fall in love. You want a child right then and there. Vow to the world and everyone around you that you want a houseful of them. 

“Then, there are times when no matter what, you can’t get your kid to stop crying. Or, they misbehave and you don’t know what to do and how to correct the behavior. They scream and throw things and have tantrums in public and it’s embarrassing. People blame the parents right away saying they need to do better. That’s the hard part. People assume you’re not doing a good job but you’re doing the best you can. What works with one child doesn’t work with the other. You can’t use blueprints for a museum to build a shed. 

“So you need to rethink your game plan and just when you think you have everything figured out, BOOM!” He shouts startling you. “Your kid changes the game. But I wouldn’t want to think of a world where Lily isn’t in it. She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. She’ll always be the best thing that’s happened to me. She’s taught me how to love someone unconditionally. To know that if she is in trouble I will willingly throw my life away to protect her. The moment I held her in my arms for the first time was the moment I knew I would and will die for her.”

“Wow…that was…beautiful.” 

Mr. Suh turns to you to see you looking at him in awe. Snickering he takes a sip of his wine, a light flush coming to his cheeks. “You’ll know how it feels when you become a mother.”

“I hope I will. And what about being a teacher?”

Smirking, he slides down on the couch. “The first year is hard. The second year is still hard but you sort of know what to expect. By your third year you’ll be a pro. It’s a job that not everyone can do but those who do it know how amazing it truly is. Oh, a piece of advice — keep your lesson plans for five years at a time. That’s what one of my professors told me. After five years redo them. That way it’s one less thing you have to worry about. Creating lesson plans is a pain, so anyway you can relieve that will always be beneficial for you.” Nodding you keep this tidbit of advice locked in your memory. “Pray tell, why did you choose the teaching profession?”

Shrugging you take a sip of your wine. “I’ve always loved school. I like being in school and learning. I would help out any chance I could get. I was even able to leave and help out the other school staff since I got done with my work quickly. When I was in High School a couple teachers said I’d make the perfect teacher so I listened to them and here I am. Failing miserably…”

“You’re not failing miserably. You’re just failing right now.”

You roll your eyes. “Geez…thanks, Mr. Suh.”

Laughing he places his glass on the end table closest to him before shifting closer to you. “From now on you can call me Johnny.”

“You too? Man you and Mr. Jeong really are cut from the same cloth.”

“What about Jaehyun?”

“He wanted me to call him by his first name too. I mean yeah I’ve spoken to him a few times because of this whole tutoring thing but not enough to feel comfortable calling him by his first name. Plus, it would cross the lines of the student teacher dynamic.”

“Maybe he wants you to feel comfortable around him.” Mr. Suh peers down at you. 

Snorting, you take another small sip of your wine. “If he wants me to feel comfortable he needs to stop making everywhere he goes look like he’s on a runway.”

Cracking up Mr. Suh places a hand on your knee to hold himself up. The small gesture making your body numb with hope that he won’t remove his hand too soon. Visions of your dream springing to life in your mind. How he wanted you to sit on his lap. How you were seconds from kissing him. Gulping you see him wiping his eyes. 

“So he still hasn’t broken that habit?”

“Habit?”

“Back when we were in college, Jaehyun was the ‘it boy,’ on campus. All the girls wanted him. It was crazy. He never paid them any mind but he was aware of the magnetism he held. He started running a hand through his hair and would hear girls screaming their heads off. He’d bite his lip, smirk, and show his dimples — all to give them just a taste of attention, but he would never go further than that.”

Leaning closer to Mr. Suh you ask him a question you never thought you’d ask. “Is Mr. Jeong…you know…into guys?”

Staring flabbergasted, Mr. Suh pushes your forehead back with his index finger. “I would never bring up men around Jaehyun again. No. Believe me. He has no interest in men.” Mr. Suh looks you up and down for a second before chugging the rest of his wine. “Trust me.”

“Sorry if I was offensive. It’s just the way you were talking made it seem like he was teasing people because he knew they would never have his heart.”

“That’s exactly what he did. But not because he’s gay. Jaehyun,” he sighs. “He’s a strange man. One second he seems head over heels for someone, the next, he’s flirting with someone else. I think the prospect of settling down with someone scares him. So he gives them an inch and hopes they don’t take a mile. But they always do and he leaves them.”

“So, Mr. Jeong is scared to be in a relationship?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Wow, I feel bad for him.”

Chuckling, Mr. Suh sits back intrigued. “Since we’re talking openly for once. What about you, my dear student? Any boys you’re interested in? Or should I ask about girls too?” He winks.

“Guys. That’s it for me.” Your face starts to warm. “There is one person…” you fiddle with your fingers. “They’re super smart, handsome, kind, and I don’t know…I just love being around them. I still have a lot to learn but I’m hoping one day I’ll be given the chance to get to know them better.”

“Anyone I know?” He nudges you, winking.

“E-Eh?!” 

Fear quickens your heartbeat. You tried to be as vague as humanly possible. There is no way that he can tell you’re talking about him. Handsome, smart, kind — qualities that can describe half of the world! No way in hell could he narrow it down to himself. 

“Come now, you can tell me. It’s Jaehyun, isn’t it?”

“Wh-What?!” You squeak.

“Everyone falls for him. It’s a natural thing. No need to be shy about it.”

“Mr. Suh, really I —”

“Johnny.” He corrects.

“J-John…Mr. Suh!”

“Come on, it’s not that hard. John…ny…” he says his name slowly.

“I’m not an imbecile!” You put down your glass. “And I don’t have feelings for Mr. Jeong! The person I was talking about was you —” freezing you try to come up with a different response. “You…you’ll never know! A woman’s heart is a land of mystery. It’s a secret!”

Mr. Suh stares at you. Eyes scanning over your features. Hoping that your trembling body won’t catch his attention. How could you have been so stupid? You are an imbecile! You almost let it slip that you have feelings for your tutor! Hell you don’t even know what kind of feelings you have for him. Lust? Hell yeah. Infatuation? Definitely! Pity? Only for Lily. Like? S-Sure... 

Turning away from his gaze you wipe your hands on your jeans. “I’m sorry for shouting. You’ve been kind to me this entire time. I owe everything to you. I just got…defensive…”

“No. I should apologize. I didn’t intend to press you to that point. But I have to ask,” he moves closer to you, his hand gently resting under your chin. Turning your head to face him he stares deep into your eyes. “Is this secret person…me?”

Sitting in the passenger seat you stare out the window. Mr. Suh sent you a message on Friday that stated Lily was sick and he needed to take care of her so tutoring was off, but to come on Saturday, today, which you’re not particularly excited for. The unbeknownst blessing of not having lessons yesterday was that your car was in the shop and there was no one to take you to your lesson. 

Granted, the garage still hasn't looked at your car yet, promising to have it done by tomorrow around lunch — Doyoung has offered to drive you to Mr. Suh’s since Jen has practice. Sighing, you rest your head against the window.

“What’s up with you? Thought this tutor of yours was helping you.”

“He is. I actually got a passing grade last time.” 

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you ever met someone that you’ve instantly liked? You may not know them but there is this undying attraction to them?”

“He’s hot isn't he?” Doyoung snickers. 

“Yes. Like just my type. He’s tall, muscular but not overly buff, he has the cutest lips. Like they remind me of a cat and he’s gentle and sweet. You should see him with his daughter and —”

“Hold up!” Doyoung slows down at the red light before glancing your way. “He’s a dad?”

“Yeah. His daughter's name is Lily and she’s so cute!”

“No.”

“No?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

“What if I’m not thinking about anything?”

“I’ve known you our whole lives. You don’t just randomly bring up the topic of liking someone without reason. If he has a child he isn’t someone you need to worry about.”

“Why not?”

“He needs to focus on raising his kid, not getting his dick wet.” He says bluntly. 

Turning to him, shocked by his choice of words Doyoung just shrugs as he proceeds forward. “Did you have to say that?!”

“You’re blushing aren’t you? How many dreams have you had about fucking him?”

“None!” You shriek but then start mumbling. “I always wake up before the good stuff.”

“Why would you put yourself through this? He’s a father. He’s your tutor. Once the semester is done and over with you won’t see him again. He’s older and you’re still in college. Why?”

“Because…because…” you sigh, turning back to the window. “I don’t know.”

“Does he know?”

Groaning, you bang your head against the window, “yeah...”

“How did he find out?”

Staring out into the traffic you drift back to that evening in Mr. Suh’s study…

‘Turning your head to face him he stares deep into your eyes. “Is this secret person…me?’

“Wh-What?! Mr. Suh…” you turn from him, your face growing warmer. “Wh-What makes you ask that kind of question? You’re my tutor…”

“Because on the first day you clearly told someone you thought I was hot.” He says matter of factly. 

“Eh?! S-S-So you did look at my phone!”

“I had to look at it to turn it off. And yes, the message in very large print clearly stated that your friend wanted a picture.”

“Sh-She was just joking! I swear! She’s very blunt.”

“So the message you sent was in regards to me being hot?” He quirks a brow. 

“No! I mean…yes…I mean…”

Moving away from you Mr. Suh runs a hand through his hair. “It’s best for you not to like me.”

Feeling a sharp pain hit your heart you look at him as if someone told you your dog passed away. Bewildered. Heartbroken. “Wh-Why?” You attempt to ask firmly but the quivering in your jaw prevents you. 

Chuckling he crosses his long legs. Arms settling across his chest. “I’m married.” He holds up his ring finger. “No point in crushing on a married man. Plus, I have a child. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with a small infatuation.”

A small infatuation?! Glaring at him he looks completely disinterested in your unwilling confession. What you feel is not a small infatuation! It’s not puppy love or displaced affection! And for him to sit here nonchalantly like your presence annoys him…you could just…just…

Pushing yourself to your feet you march in front of him. He’s married? Ha! If only he knew that you knew his wife left not only him but his daughter. Over her, he’s still holding onto some kind of hope! Why would he do that?! She left him! She’s gone, most likely never to come back! Holding on to hope will only hurt him in the end and Lily! And his daughter…so what?! All of this is a means of deflecting!

“It’s not a small infatuation. I’m not a teenager. I know what and how I am feeling. Yes, I sent a text message to my friend saying that you were hot. If you haven’t noticed at all, you’re incredibly hot! The hottest man I’ve ever seen! Not once did I feel any amount of attraction to anyone I’ve been in school with, that is until you came along! Do you think I wanted to have a crush on my tutor? Do you know how hard it is to focus sometimes?

“Also, I clearly noted the wedding ring on your finger. But I’m also aware that —” you pause. “I’m…” Calm down…breathe… Taking a huge inhale you let the air fill your lungs. Simmering down the anger that was building up inside you. “I’m also aware that just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings for someone else. Sadly we’re not a species that has only one love for the rest of our life. I believe only a couple of species on the planet are like that.”

“So what do you suggest?” Mr. Suh reaches up grabbing your wrists. “You want me to cheat on my wife?” He yanks you down. Your body falling on top of his. “Is that what you want me to do?” He grabs your legs and easily moves you so you’re straddling his lap. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” You try to move away from him but he holds you firmly in his arms. 

Pressing his lips against your ear — unfortunately sending shivers down your spine and a spark of fire to your core he firmly states, “answer the question.”

“N-No…”

“No, you don’t want to answer the question or no, you don’t want me to cheat?”

“Both!”

Arms falling to the couch he allows you to crawl off of him. Moving as far away from him as possible you wait until your heart calms down. The moment you waited for. The moment you’ve fantasized about did not pan out how you truly wanted it to. You were mere seconds from telling him you knew about his wife. The only way you could have known is from Mr. Jeong, and by no means we’re you going to get him in trouble.

“I think I should go.” You get up heading for the door. “Forget I even mentioned anything.”

“Wait!” Stopping as your feet barely cross over the threshold you glance over your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Mr. Suh apologizes with his head low to his chest. “I-I didn’t mean…”

“Wh-What?” You turn completely to look at him. Hands interlaced together tightly. Knuckles turning white as snow. His hair hanging over his eyes making him look more apologetic. More ashamed… “M-Mr. Suh?” You call gently. 

His hands unclasp, one reaching up to wipe his eyes. Without thinking you spring over to him. Startling him as you push his shoulders back until they’re resting on the back of the couch — eyes red and tear stained. Straddling his lap you plant a gentle kiss on his lips. His body freezes beneath you but you pay it no mind. This is what you’ve wanted. To feel what it would be like to kiss him. To feel his body pressed against yours. 

Leaving soft comforting kiss after kiss, his hands find purchase on your waist. Slowly he starts to kiss you back. His lips moving along with yours tentatively. Unsure and if this is right. But when a groan coming from the back of his throat pierces your ears you kiss him deeper. Opening your mouth for his tongue to enter. 

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to grow steamy. Your body burning up from the inside out. Stomach churning to the sounds coming from your tutor. Low growls that tell you he’s holding back with all his might. Wanting to feel all of him you take matters into your own hands. As his tongue slips into your mouth you quickly wrap your lips around it, sucking on the wet slippery muscle. Giving him a taste of what it would be like on another part of his body. His hands grip your waist tightly. Eyes closed shut. Brows furrowed while you work your magic. His face, his expressions, the noises he’s making driving you forward to do more. Much much more.

With one final loud suck of his tongue you pull back. Chest heaving heavily you attack his neck. Biting, nipping, kissing and sucking on the taught flesh. Grazing your tongue across his Adam’s apple has him pushing you onto your back. Now hovering over you he stares down at you with wild eyes. Pupils dilated and filled with lust. 

“Kiss me, please…” you beg for him with your arms wide open. 

Gulping loudly Mr. Suh lowers himself to you. His chest sliding up yours making you squirm beneath him. His lips skate over yours, a whisper of a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Whimper after whimper comes from you. Never before have you been this desperate to feel someone’s lips on yours. To feel their body on top of you — pressing you into a couch until you can’t escape. 

“You’re so beauti —”

“Daddy!!” Lily calls out for him. “Daddy!!”

In a matter of seconds Mr. Suh is off of you. Back pressed against the arm of the couch from the opposite end. Hair mused. Chest rising and falling rapidly and a rather noticeable…you look away from his lap. 

“Y-You need to leave!” He scrambles to his feet.

“Daddy!” Lily cries out. 

“Coming!” He says frantically.

“Mr. Suh, I…”

“Just leave!” He shouts before leaving his study in a hurry. “Lily! Sweetheart, what’s wrong?!”

“He saw a text I sent to Jen about him being hot. Didn’t take much to know I was into him,” you tell Doyoung leaving out the sorted details. 

“What are you going to do?”

“I would run away and avoid him but I kind of need his help in order to pass.” Turning to your friend with a somber face you try your best to smile but a single tear slides down your cheek. “So I’m going to pass and put him behind me after this semester.”

Reaching over, Doyoung places his hand in yours. “I’m sorry, kid.” 

“Me too.” You wipe your eye. 

Within five minutes you were in front of Mr. Suh’s house. Doyoung whistling the moment he sees the place. Asking if you wanted him to walk you to the door for extra support you declined the offer. Telling him to be here at 6PM or at least to have his cell on hand if you should need to call him for an earlier pick up, he reassures you that he’ll be close by. 

As you make your way up to the house Doyoung calls your name. Turning to look back you’re engulfed in his arms. “I know this is going to be hard but please stay strong, okay?” He asks you.

Nodding and giving into the sweetest, softest hug known to mankind you melt into him. “I will.”

“If you need ANYTHING, call me or text me. I’ll be over here ASAP. Got it?”

“Mmm…” you nod. 

“See you soon.”

“See you soon, and thank you!” You shout, waving your hand. 

Waving back, Doyoung gets into his car and drives off down the road. Turning back to the house you find Mr. Suh at the door. Eyes dark and unreadable. Walking up to him his aura is different. Then again, the hot makeout session the other day could be the reason. 

“You’re late.” He says as you pass by him.

“I needed a ride. Sorry.” You head straight for the kitchen. “Oh. Before I forget.” You pull out a small bag with some chicken noodle soup in it and orange juice. “For Lily.”

“She’s fine.” He brushes past you without taking the bag. 

“I see.” Leaving the bag on the counter near the kitchen sink you take your seat. “I’ve already done the homework.” You take out your binder. 

“Hand it to me.”

Doing as instructed you wait for Mr. Suh to check your work. His hand scribbles down where you’ve made mistakes. Of course there were mistakes. You haven’t been able to get the kiss you had with him out of your mind. Even in your sleep you feel his lips and hands on you. Taking out your textbook you open up to the chapter Mr. Jeong went over yesterday to distract yourself.

“What is this mess?” Mr. Suh breaks you out of your thoughts. “This!” He shoves your homework up to your face where all you see are red markings. “This is unacceptable!”

“Sorry.” You look down. 

“What happened? You should have been able to get past this with flying colors?” Shrugging you avoid looking at him. “Answer me!”

“I don’t know what happened!”

“Did you double check your work? Did you read the questions carefully?!”

“I thought I did.”

“Well thinking wasn’t on your side now was it?!” He snarls.

“Look!” You shout. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to get them all wrong! I’m sorry I’m too stupid to understand this! Why do I need to learn this anyway?! I want to teach Kindergarten! I want to have fun and watch them learn their alphabet and numbers. Why do I need to learn all this other stuff?!” Tears start pouring down your face. 

“Because you don’t know what grade you will be assigned to! That’s why! So enough with the tears and pay attention!”

“Why are you being so mean?” You sniff. 

He goes quiet, his body rigged. Ever since you walked up to him he’s been a real asshole for no reason at all. Yes, you got questions wrong — knowing it’s only because the kiss that you can’t get out of your mind being the main culprit behind the insurmountable amount of red ink on your homework. But this, this behavior because you got answers wrong is not that the Johnny… Mr. Suh, that you know. 

Turning his head from you he lets out a huge exhale. “Because being nice to you ended up with us…” he stops himself before proceeding with the real reason he’s in a shitty mood.

“So that constitutes you being mean to me instead?!” Taking out your phone which you had on mute you start to type out an S.O.S to Doyoung.

“No phones!” He grabs your phone. “I told you this already. Are you having a hard time following simple rules?!”

“I was telling my friend to pick me up! Give me my phone!”

“What?! I cleared my schedule to help you and you’re going to leave? You’re here to learn so that’s what you’re going to do. Now sit down and listen to me young lady!”

“No! You’re not my father and you’re not my teacher!” You challenge by packing up your belongings.

“I said sit down!” He stands up his body looming over you threateningly. 

“No!” You tremble in rage. “Give me my phone…back!!”

“So you can contact that boyfriend of yours?”

Your arms fly from your sides exasperated. “Boyfriend?!” 

“Yes. The boy glaring daggers at me!”

“Glare? What glare?! Are you talking about Doyoung?! He’s my best friend. I’ve known him my whole life! W-Wait…are you…jealous?!”

Quickly Mr. Suh’s demeanor changes from hostile tutor to blubbering idiot. “J-Jealous?! Wh-What?! That’s absurd!”

“If you’re not jealous you’ll give me back my phone,” you hold out your hand.

“I’m not jealous and you’re not getting your phone back. You’re here to learn!”

“Give me my phone!”

“No! Now sit down.” Ignoring his order you zip up your now full again backpack and hurl it over your shoulders. “Wh-What are you doing?!”

“Leaving.”

“You can’t leave!”

“I’m my own person. I’m free to go wherever I please.”

“If you leave I won’t tutor you anymore!” He threatens.

“Fine with me.” You continue to pack your things.

“Y-You’ll fail!”

“Guess I will.”

“You can’t be serious.” You ignore him as you head out of the kitchen. “Y-Yah!!” He chases after you. “Are you stupid?!”

“Already told you I was the first day we met.”

“Stop this!” He grabs your wrist. Halting in front of him you don’t bother turning around. “Fine. Take it.” He growls, placing your phone in your hand. “There. Now will you stay?”

“No.” You click send and head to the front door.

“What?! I gave you back your phone!”

“So?” You smirk. “You think that means that I’ll stay here? I’m not going to deal with someone who has an attitude problem. It doesn’t help me at all.”

“I don’t have an attitude problem.”

“Uh, yeah, you do.”

“I don’t!”

“From the moment I walked inside you’ve been cross with me. Why? Is it because we kissed the other day? Is it because Lily is sick and you’re tired? Or is it because you saw me hugging someone else?” Mr. Suh looks away from you the moment you mention the hug. Shocked, you cross your arms over your chest. “No way,” you chuckle. “Don’t tell me that Mr. Suh has a wittle crush,” you say in a baby voice. “Wouldn’t that be something? Especially after all that bullshit about it being bad for me to like you.”

“Stop.” His fists clench at his sides, his body trembling as he glares at you.

“What? Is it because I’m right? Did you fall for me when I kissed you?” You press.

“I said stop!”

“Come now, do share with the class how you’re feeling,” you spread your arms open as if you’re talking to more than just Mr. Suh. Seething with rage, you peer up at him through your lashes. “Come now, Johnny.” 

A sharp pain strikes down your spine as your back makes contact with the wall closest to the door — a tiny alcove just barely big enough for you to nestle into you, no escape in sight. You gasp for air as strong hands grip both your waist and your neck, making sure that you don’t get away. Lips crash down onto yours with such force you’re sure the metallic taste in your mouth is your own blood. Teeth crash into teeth, the grip on your waist tightens — eyes getting blurry with tears as your air supply starts to run low. 

Pulling back for a seconds, Mr. Suh takes in a breath allowing you to breathe as well, only for his lips to crash down onto yours again. This kiss was anything but gentle. It’s rough and raw like he’s trying to devour your soul one kiss at a time. Stomach swirling like a tornado when he growls against your lips, a beast waiting to devour it’s prey — your knees almost give out from the hottest guttural groan you’ve ever heard a man make in your life, your thighs clenching together.  

“You’re such a brat,” he grips your waist tighter leaving out a shaky breath. 

Mr. Suh’s grip on your neck loosens as his body presses against yours, the feeling of his arousal already present. Gasping, your arms wrap around his neck drawing him closer to you. His tongue skates across your lips, begging for entrance. Parting your lips, his tongue swirls around yours fighting for dominance, which you gladly complied — mind already turning to mush at the slightest touch and kiss he presses against you.

Pulling back he leaves you with a single peck on your lips as both of your chests rapidly heave — your breath mixing with his, unknown feelings blending in with each other’s.

“I-I think you need to be taught some manners.” He says breathlessly. 

“I-I’m sorry…” you plead while your mind races for what might come if he does in fact punish you.

He snickers, his eyes cloudy and hooded, a lusftul sinister look plastered on his face. “Liar.” He squeezes your neck tighter, his eyes starting to close.

“Pl-Please…c-can’t…breathe…”

Laughing he grips your neck even harder — still not tight enough to do any real damage, but your breath still feels staggered each breath you take in. “Good!” He hisses and trails his lips over your cheek before he kisses the corner of your mouth. “You dare to argue with me in my own home then proceed to tease me!” His grip on your waist tightens while he pulls you into him, your bodies flush against each other’s. “You insolent brat!” 

Kissing you again the little air you were able to breathe is taken from you. Your body growing limp in his hold. Your mind lost to the lust that’s blazing through you like a rocket. It’s embers striking every nerve in your body — the slightest touch of his lips to yours makes you whimper, the grip of his hand on your waist growing tighter till it feels as if he’ll leave impressions has you shivering. Your lips move along with his desperately, waiting to be consumed by him to have your whole existence wrecked by a single glance from him. Whatever he wants to do to you, you’ll gladly comply. A slave to his touch you become engulfed by him. 

Like a switch going off, Mr. Suh rips you from the wall by your neck and you’re free from him. “I will never be jealous,” he rolls his neck, eyes growing dark with hunger each step he takes towards you. “That little twerp can have you only when I’m done with you.”

The powerful wolf and the meek rabbit you back away from, your hands raised in both defense and to placate him. “I-I don’t want him…”

Smirking, he continues to stalk towards you your body getting closer and closer to the couch. “Why is that?”

Your heels smack against the bottom of the couch. Trapped again you can’t go anywhere else without him catching you easily. Your body trembles, your skin covered in goosebumps. “I want you!” You say desperately reaching out to him. “Only you.”

Pushing you down onto the couch, Johnny wastes no time at all. Towering over you, his eyes so dark and full of feral lust mirroring your own, his gaze washes over you inch by inch. Stopping at your breasts, you involuntarily take a deep breath in — causing your chest to rise and Johnny’s bottom lip to be sucked between his teeth. His eyes travel lower to your stomach and then pauses for what seems like an eternity — your pelvis, his gaze lingers as sinful thoughts reel through your mind. 

What it would be like to have his tongue skate over your wet folds. What it would be like to have his fingers ramming inside of you, and the second most sinful thought of all — his dick pummeling into you without a second thought to your wellbeing. 

Possessed by desire, your legs start to spread apart, a subconscious invitation for him to come closer. To merge his body with your own. On cue, he moves forward just as your legs spread far enough for him to fit between them. One of his hands props his body up while the other touches your cheek gingerly. Your eyes start to close as you give into the soft caress. When his thumb passes over your lips you give it a small kiss. 

“Why did you have to do this to me?” 

“Why did you have to do this to me, Mr. Suh?” You throw the question back at him. It wasn’t just him that is under a spell, but yourself as well. 

Ever since you first saw him you wanted to know him, to be a part of his life. Cupid’s arrow didn’t just get you — it flew straight into your mind and scrambled your brain. The moment you saw him playing outside with his daughter, the smile on his face; the carefree aura that surrounded him sent you soaring. Entranced the moment your eyes fell on him you’ve wondered how haven’t jumped him yet.

Leaning into his touch you turn your head kissing the palm of his hand, a faint sent of lotion and soap fill your head; with a splash of your perfume. Your lips travel to his wrist and down his arm, your eyes staring him down wanting nothing more than to feel his lips over your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

“Please don’t punish me, Mr. Suh…” You lick and nip at his wrist.

“Shit…” he rasps. “You’re so beautiful,” he rubs his thumb against your cheek before grabbing your chin. “But you’re a brat, and brats need to be dealt with.” 

Gulping from anticipation you feign innocence. “I-I didn’t mean it! Please!” Your mouth says forgive me but your eyes say come and get it. 

Smirking, Johnny’s hand travels from your chin down to your neck and across your décolletage slowly — making sure every touch has you inching closer and closer to him. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes~” you purr reaching up to him, pulling him down to you.

Johnny’s eyes grow darker. His grip around your neck loosening. “What do you think you’re doing?” He lowers himself onto you more until his chest is pressed against yours. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to do that.” Sighing he shakes his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything!” You choke out. 

His lips meet yours in a gentle yet chilling kiss, “be careful what you wish for.” He says in a dark husky voice. 

“You can do whatever you want to me…” you state firmly. “Anything.”

Stopping the smile that played on his lips, his hand travels down from your décolletage to just above the neckline of your low cut shirt. “Are you sure about that?”

Nodding eagerly, you stare up at him. With a swift movement Johnny has you switching positions with him; instead of standing between his legs — he pulls you on top of his lap, your legs straddling him. His hands rest just above your ass — your body sinking until you feel the bulge that is seconds from bursting through his loose fitted jeans. Wanting nothing than to grind your hips against him you withhold the urge. 

After so many nights of fantasizing about him you’re finally at the moment where your dreams can become reality. There’s no way you’re going to screw it up and push him past his comfort zone. Especially, with a burning question in the back of your mind. With the roll of his hips your body gives into the lust you’ve kept locked away. Throwing away your inhibitions you grab his cheeks into your hand and smash your lips down onto his. 

Your hips grinding into each other’s, both of you gasp for air between kisses — his grip on you tightening, holding you down against him getting out his frustration just as much as you’re chasing to release the frustration within you. Biting his bottom lip you’re desperate to taste him again. To feel his tongue swirling around yours in a forbidden dance of passion. 

Parting his lips your tongue slides into his mouth only to capture his tongue between your lips. Shifting your body higher up on his, you suck on his tongue as if it were his dick. Mr. Suh groaning, his arms going from the top of your behind to around your waist. Releasing his tongue you go back to kissing him, missing the feeling of his lips on yours. 

His mouth moves from yours and down to your chin. Angling your head back you give him access to your neck. Nipping, sucking and biting, Mr. Suh marks you, claiming ownership of your body. Moving down to the base of your neck, you melt in his hold a shiver washing over you. Smiling against your neck his lips spread and suck on a sensitive spot. Soft whimpers escape your lips — wanting to both flee from him as well as grab onto his hair to keep yourself in place to savor the delightful feeling.

Moving back from your neck Mr. Suh glances at the art piece he’s created on your body. His hold on you loosens allowing you to find purchase again on his lap both of you hissing when your clothed core brushes against his bulge. 

Wincing as your hips roll over his again, keeping his hands at your waist to steady your ministrations he confesses. “J-Just so you know, I-I’ve never done this before.” 

“Never done what before?” You ask slowing down before you work yourself up even more. 

His eyes quiver from fear, apprehension, you can’t tell. Touching his cheek you smile and give him a gentle nod of encouragement. 

“I don’t normally want to fuck my students. In fact, I’ve never wanted to do that before until —’’

“Until?” You give a faint smile.

Rolling his hips you whimper bringing your hand up to your lips shocked by the sound that passed your lips. “What do you think?” He asks.

“I never thought of you as someone who sleeps with his students. Especially, not with Lily around —” gasping you look behind you to the staircase. “I-Is she here? Shit, I didn’t think about it until now…” scrambling to get off of his lap Mr. Suh keeps you in place.

“I wouldn’t have started anything with you if Lily were in the house. She’s with Jaehyun right now. His neighbor’s kids are her classmates. She visits him every now and then to spend more time with them. It’s okay we’re alone,” he chuckles.

“Thank heavens,” you sink into his hold. “Wait a second! I thought she was sick. Is she well enough to be around others?” You perk up again.

Avoiding your gaze Johnny clears his throat. “Uh, about that…I, uh, lied. Well, I mean she wasn’t feeling well. She ate too much chocolate and had a stomach ache, but she’s fine now.”

Freezing on top of him your eyes widen. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bought so much.”

Wrapping a gentle hand around your neck he pulls you down to him. “She ate my chocolate apparently. Snuck down at night,” he smiles against your lips. “The little sneak.”

Smiling along with him you enjoy the warm cozy feeling of his slipping from your neck down to your back, where his his thumb rubs against you with a soothing touch. “She’s adorable. You’ve done a great job raising her.”

“Thank you,” Johnny kisses you gently. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked me about her mother,” he pulls away from you hands resting on your hips once again. 

Shit…

“Oh, I, now that you mention it, I haven’t met her.” You laugh nervously.

Not believing your realization one bit he squints at you. “Exactly what has Jaehyun told you?”

Ears perking up you turn away from him. “Mr. Jeong? What do you mean?”

“Now I could be a poor judge of character, but you don’t seem like the type of girl who would ruin a marriage just because she has the hots for the husband. So, I’m guessing you either know or have an inkling as to why you haven’t met Lily’s mother. So, what is it?”

“Ummm, I mean, I…”

A dark aura swirls around Mr. Suh while a devilish grin dances across his face. “Hmm, maybe a little coaxing will do the trick,” he moves one of his hands from your hips to between your legs — lifting away from him startled, he uses the opportunity to cup your throbbing core. “So, what do you know?” He adds pressure while rubbing his hand over you, stirring the neediness to have him buried deep inside of you.

“M-Mr. S-Suh!!”

“Come on, tell me, what do you know?” He presses harder against your pulsating core, your body pushing down against his hand wanting more. 

Shaking your head you try to prolong his taunting. “N-Nothing! W-We barely talk about you,” a half truth and half lie. 

Slowing down Johnny goes to remove his hand but you grab his wrist. “Oh, do you suddenly remember?” 

“Don’t stop,” you whimper. “Please!” You bring his hand back to your now soaking core not caring if your jeans are getting ruined and grind against his hand.

Gulping, Johnny watches you for a second mesmerized by your performance. How you’re so worked up and he hasn’t even taken off your clothes. Snapping out of his thoughts he yanks his hand away. “Tell me what you know and I’ll continue.” 

Crying out you go to grab his hand again but he puts it behind his back. “MR. SUH!!!!” 

“Tell me what I need to know and if you’re good I’ll give you what you want and then some.” 

“Why do you want to know so badly? Really, Mr. Jeong normally just asks if you’re nice to me and if I’m actually learning anything. Apparently my grades aren’t proof enough.” Your body goes slack against him.

Kissing the top of your head that’s now resting on his chest, he slides his hands under the hem of your shirt and up your back. The warmth of his fingers making you shiver. “Just tell me, that’s all you have to do.” He whispers.

Groaning you shake your head. “If I die its your fault. He told me to keep this knowledge a secret you know.”

“He won’t hurt you. Now out with it. I’d like to have some adult time before Lily gets home.”

Sitting up straight almost hitting Johnny’s chin you clear your throat. “Mr. Jeong told me not to mention your wife at all in front of you or Lily. He didn’t give me a lot of details but just said that she left and mentioning her would make you upset. So that’s why I never once asked about her. 

“I actually wanted to give her a present of appreciation for allowing me to borrow you, this whole time. I assumed she would have preferred spending the end of the day with Lily and yourself, but Mr. Jeong said she wouldn’t get it. I thought it meant she was sick or dead. He corrected me.”

“So, you know everything?” His gaze falls from yours.

“In a roundabout way, yes.”

“So, I must ask, are you sure these feelings of yours, aren’t out of pity? The poor tutor whose wife ditched him in the middle of the night.”

“Stop that!” You shout startling him. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I already thought you were irresistible from the moment I saw you. That awkward text message to my friend is evidence enough.” He chuckles, shaking his head still avoiding your gaze. Grabbing his chin you turn and raise his head so he’s looking into your eyes. 

“Nothing has changed. I do not like you out of pity. I like you because you’re resilient. You raised Lily into a sweet girl, really, she’s adorable. You juggled being a full-time dad with a full-time job. You’re still able to keep a bachelor like Mr. Jeong around despite it all so you’re either super mega ultra best friends, or you’re loaded and he’s using you for your money.” He cracks a huge smile and you continue. “And,” your hand drops from his chin but a single finger slides down his neck, Johnny gulping in the process. “You obviously take care of your physical health too…” your finger finds it’s way to the middle of his broad muscular chest.

”That’s a lot coming from someone who doesn't know me at all.” He attempts to brush off your compliments, but the tinge of pink coming to his cheeks betrays him. 

“And you don’t know anything about me aside from the fact that you’re now my tutor and math is definitely not my best subject. Yet here we are,” you roll your pelvis against his. “Two strangers trying to find something that they need.”

”What exactly do I need?” He grunts when a particular roll of your hips makes him buck upwards.

Smirking, you slither down to the floor, crawling between Johnny’s legs. Locking eyes with him, you run your hands up his thighs and over the tent of his jeans. 

“A release,” you giggle moving your face closer to where his dick is covered by his jeans. 

Pressing harder against him you palm him over the taught fabric. “I-Is that so?!!” He says breathlessly trying to keep his cool.

“Mhmm, oh and maybe a tight pussy to shove your big dick into.” You unzip his jeans. “Plus, it’s been far too long since I’ve gotten a proper release myself.”

Gulping, he watches you like a hawk, his chest rising and falling. “Wh-When was the last time exactly?”

Pausing, you think back to your last boyfriend. A boy indeed since you both were only sixteen at the time. He was nice and cute, the typical boy next door that every mother wants for her daughter. Hell, he even went to church on Sunday’s. The problem with him… behind those baby blue eyes and sweet smile, he was a complete sadist! 

Bending you over the bed frame while he plowed into you from behind, not warming you up, not caring about the fact it was your first time and you could feel blood trickling down your leg. It hurt a lot that first time. The couple times afterwards we’re just as bad. He called foreplay smacking your pussy with his dick, rather hard too. And a female orgasm, forget about it. He stated with his full chest ‘the female orgasm doesn’t exist. I’ve read numerous academic articles online.’ In truth he read a bunch of misogynistic, I’m-an alpha-male-who-can’t-make-a-woman-cum articles that convinced him otherwise. 

After the third terrible, painful sexual experience you had to grow a backbone and call it quits — resulting in a rumor that you loved eating ass, because that made sense. The only ass you would have eaten was his so it all backfired on him anyway. A snippet of karma for his pettiness. 

The only other experience was with your neighbor's daughter. An out of the blue moment, you were both watching porn and just wanted to know how it would feel. That was your senior year and boy was it… fun. A tiny secret you’ll keep till you find a man who is self-assured enough to handle it. Perhaps… Mr. Suh could be…

“It’s been quite a while. And I really,” you move back to tug down his jeans, Mr. Suh helping you by raising his butt off the couch. “Really need to get rid of this pent up frustration you’ve caused. And since it’s your fault,” you toss his jeans over your head. “I think it’s only fair that you help me out. Don’t you think?” 

Leaning forward you press your lips on Johnny’s incredible length. Already impressed you run your lips across his briefs licking a wet streak as you go.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans throwing his head back. “God that feels good already.”

Giggling you find the tip of his cock, his briefs showing a stain of precum on the outside. Smushing your thighs together you attempt to calm the beating of your pulsing bundle of nerves — wanting so badly to touch yourself, to come undone while sucking him off, but Mr. Suh needs this moment and you can wait. 

Suckling on the cum that’s leaked from him already you savor the taste of him. How many times you’ve dreamt about what he would taste like and smell like. How big he’d be — your imagination not doing him justice at all, and how it would feel for him to go balls deep inside of you. 

“I need your lips on me…” he groans, with one hand gripping the arm of the couch for dear life and the other tangled up in his hair. 

Kitten licking the impression of his cock you grab the waistband of his briefs and yank them down as well, till he steps out of them with your help. Tossing them behind you like you did his jeans you darn near pass out. Nothing you could have ever imagined would compare to what is in front of you. With your mouth hanging open, Johnny sits up taking off his shirt and throwing it with his other clothes. 

Sitting back he takes his more than you would have thought, length into his hand stroking it. Amazed at the scene in front of you, you stay put almost desperate to watch him jerk himself off before even motioning for you to come over and make him cum again. Now that would be punishment.

“Do you think you candle this?” He taunts you by wiggling his cock in front of you. 

Not only was he long but the amount of girth he possessed made it hard for his cock to stand up on its own. It’s just too damn heavy. 

“I-I’m more than willing to try!” You scramble between his legs desperate to taste him again.

Before you can take a hold of him, he yanks his cock back. “How badly do you want to suck my dick?”

“I’m soaking wet just thinking about it, Mr. Suh.”

Turning his head away from you stunned by your honesty he composes himself once more. “Come closer,” he calls to you.

Nestling as close as you can between his legs, your arms rest on the tops of his thighs. Earnestly waiting for him to let you take control. 

“Open your mouth,” he instructs.

Opening wide, you follow his instructions. Mr. Suh, pumps his hand up and down his length a few more times until he places just the tip of his cock into your mouth. 

“Ouhm,” you make a non-coherent sound and try to hold onto his length, the weight of his cock already a lot by just the tip resting in your mouth. 

Quickly, before you can take hold, Mr. Suh pulls his cock away chuckling. “I don’t know if you can handle it.”

Clicking your tongue you get up onto your knees. “Watch me!” 

Staring down at the massive length of Johnny’s cock, you gulp as lightly as you can muster. This is going to be a hell of a task. Of course, you expected him to be packing but this! It’s as everyone says, God does have favorites and he’s bestowed Johnny onto you. 

Thank you.

Looking up at Johnny you stare him down as you stick out your tongue. Getting closer and closer to the tip of his cock, his bottom lip gets snagged between his teeth. Anticipation causes his chest to rise and fall — ears, cheeks, and chest turning the lightest shade of pink. Nodding he urges you to move closer and when you finally make contact with the tip, his eyes roll to the back of his head.

”Fuck~~~” he drawls out a growl. 

It wasn’t just his eyes that rolled into the back of his head, but yours too. As you kitten lick down the length of his cock, you can’t help but moan onto his shaft. The taste and smell of him, intoxicating. You lick a stripe down to the base only to pull away and blow gently on the wetness you created.

“Sh-Shit…” Mr. Suh chuckles. “That’s something new,” he strokes the top of your head. 

“Learned it from an ex,” you admit. 

“Tell them I said thanks.” Smirking, you kiss up and down his length before finally taking him into your mouth. “Oh, yes baby…”

Hollowing out your cheeks you suck on the head of his cock. Like a woman possessed you dive deeper and deeper around him. The tip reaching the back of your throat gagging you.

”Easy, baby…” Mr. Suh coos, stroking your hair. “Take your time.”

Sliding up his length your mouth hangs open, saliva stringing from his shaft to your lips. Eyes clouded with lust you merely nod before spitting on his dick and diving back down. 

He is right. There is far too much of him to gobble down immediately. His girth stretching out the corners of your lips making it feel as though they’ll split and bleed. But, you just can’t help yourself. He’s far too enticing to resist. 

Sitting up straighter, you take the lower base of Mr. Suh’s shaft and dive down until you reach your hand. A long groan comes from him. Taking a shot in the dark from your bestie’s rendezvous’ you try the one thing she said made her ex-boyfriend go crazy. 

As Mr. Suh reaches the back of your throat you hold him there in your mouth, your mouth sucking the life out of him before slowly pulling back. Your tongue juts out and you lick the back of his length along the pronounced vein — Mr. Suh’s body trembling underneath your touch.

”Fuck ~~~~ that felt good.” His hand strokes down your hair one last time before he grabs a handful. “But I need more of that pretty mouth of yours.”

Lowering your head back down onto his cock, Mr. Suh uses your mouth to get himself off. His hips thrusting up, his dick slides in and out of your mouth quickly. Your eyes tearing up — the tip of his length no doubt creating an impression in the back of your throat — pushing you down further, your body moves forward and curls as you try not to gag. Doing everything you’ve heard to stop yourself from retching, you keep your body still until he pulls out.

Choking on air, you wipe your mouth of the thick saliva that escaped past your lips. Looking up at Johnny starry and blurry eyed you watch him stroke himself earnestly waiting for you to wrap your lips around him again. Pushing his hand away, you do what that useless ex actually complimented you for — and give Mr. Suh the best blow job of his life.

Soaking his cock in your saliva, you lick all the way down his shaft, pumping your hand at the top before sucking one of his balls into your mouth. Mr. Suh’s hand finding purchase in your hair before he pulls you back, causing you to release his sack with a pop and barely giving you a chance to give the other a little lick before you’re staring at him again.

With a smirk plastered to your face you ask, “what? You don’t like that?” 

”Quite the contrary, but I’d rather cum with your mouth wrapped around my dick and not my balls.” 

Listening to his request you wrap your lips around the tip once more and suckle on it and his length like he was your favorite flavor of lollipop. Small kisses decorate the underside of his shaft before you kiss the head. Staring him down you slide your hand up and down his length.

Mr. Suh’s eyes start closing the closer you edge him to cum. His body trembling and his groans getting louder until you blow down the slickness you’ve created and he shivers beneath you. Giggling you hollow your cheeks around him and drink him up when his hands hold your head down on him.

”Fuck! Just a little…” he growls lifting his hip, his cock sliding in out of your mouth. “SHIT!!” He pushes your head down more until you choke on his dick, this time your hands grip the top of his thighs, your nails creating impressions in his skin. “I’m gonna~~~” he groans, his head dropping back to his shoulders.

Warm liquid fills your mouth. Small whimpers rumble in your throat as his cum coats your mouth. He doesn’t move away, his pelvis frozen in the air while he spasms beneath you. Your mouth fills and some of his essence slips past your lips and drips down his length. With one final jerk of his body, Mr. Suh lowers himself down back to the couch, his cock sliding from your lips slowly.

His chest heaves quickly, eyes clouded just like you know yours are. With a quick swipe of your thumb over your lips, you tilt your head back, his cum slipping down your throat until its gone. 

“Shit…” he lets out a long shaky breath. “That was amazing,” he chuckles. “But I do think I need to repay the favor.”

”Oh, believe me Mr. Suh, it was my pleasure,” you say, licking all of the residue of his release from your fingers. 

Wiggling a finger, he beckons you to him. “Come here, you little brat,” he calls to you. 

Getting onto your feet you stand between Mr. Suh’s legs. He sits up, eyeing your body before him. “Well this won’t do,” he slides his hand under your shirt. “We need to get rid of these.” 

Quickly, you strip from your shirt, the fabric flying off the top of your head and landing somewhere on the floor. Laughing, Mr. Suh, undoes the buttons of your jeans, sliding them down your body. Just like your shirt you discard the piece of clothing somewhere away from you on the floor. Standing in your bra and panties, Mr. Suh takes the opportunity to let his eyes roam over every curve and inch of you. 

Thanking the Lord you decided to wear your matching black bra and panties today instead of your usual ‘whatever you can find’ combo — he wraps his arms around the back of your legs and pulls you till you're straddling his lap once more, your soaked panties brushing against his hardened length.

Shocked that Mr. Suh could still be this hard after coming once, you wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re quite insatiable, Mr. Suh.” You tease and grind on top of his length earning a low growl from deep in his throat.

“How could I not be with a beautiful woman in my presence?” He asks and unsnaps your bra, the straps sliding down your arms before you sit up allowing him to pull the fabric off of you. Discarding it in the heap of clothing now collecting on the floor he takes in your bare breasts. 

With hungry eyes and a lick of his lips he cups one of your breasts in his hand. An airy moan has you throwing your head back, your hands resting on his shoulder. 

“So sensitive,” he says playfully. 

“They’ve always been sensitive…” you confess. 

“Is that so?” 

Leaning forward, he gives your unattended breast a kiss near your nipple. Another moan emitting from you. Taking both of your breasts in his hands, you arch your back, resting your hand instead of on his shoulder but the top of his thighs. Glancing up at you he captures one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud. While he pinches and twists the other nipple. 

Your hips start grinding on top of his lap, the feeling of his mouth on your breast a little too good to withstand. Growling his teeth graze over your perky bud making you jump a little. Chuckling he switches to the other side and repeats the same sensuous torture, your body craving for his mouth and hands on another part of you. Kissing along the top of your chest, his arms wrap around your waist pulling you back to him — his back resting on the back of the couch, while he devours your chest up to your neck one kiss, lick and nip at a time. 

“Your choice,” he whispers against your neck. “Mouth or fingers?”

“E-Eh?”

Staring up at you with those chocolate orbs of his, he reaches for the back of your neck and pulls you down gently till his lips rest on yours. “Do you want me to get you off with my mouth or my fingers?” He places a feather-like kiss on your lips. 

Gulping, you whisper against each kiss he leaves, “f-fingers…please!”

Knowing that there is no way in hell that you would last even a minute if his tongue grazed over your clit — at least with his fingers you’ll be able to feel him inside of you — the probability of lasting longer much higher than if he used his mouth. The throbbing between your legs making you three times more sensitive than normal, a loud moan interrupts your throats as Mr. Suh rubs over your wet folds — having already moved your panties to the side, he prods your entrance before rubbing over your clit once more. 

Mumbling against your neck, he pulls his hand back from you. “Fuck baby, you’re already so wet.” Pulling his hand up he shows you your slick on his fingers. “Damn…” he twiddles his fingers in amazement at how you’ve soaked them. “So wet for me,” he slides his fingers into his mouth.

“M-Mr. Suh!!!!” You squeak, grabbing his hand to stop him but his fingers disappear into his mouth. 

Groaning, his eyes roll back as he sucks his fingers clean of your juices. “So fucking good…I knew you’d taste good,” he drops his hand back down to between your legs, his fingers sliding across your folds; spreading your slick over your clit. Probing your entrance with his middle finger, he rubs your bundle of nerves with his thumb. 

“M-Mr. Suh…” you whimper. 

Sliding his finger inside of you, he bites down on your neck. “Shit, baby,” he pumps his finger in and out of you. Squelching noises from your pussy sound out alongside your soft moans. “You’re dripping wet...”

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” you place your hands on the side of his face, tilting his head up for you to kiss him. The taste of his mouth as well as your slick swirling around, arousing you more and more as the kiss prolongs. Your hips start swiveling before you drop down onto his finger — sinking him inside of you. “Mmm…more…” you raise your hips to slide back down on his fingers.

“You sure?” He bites your bottom lip.

”Pleas, Mr. Suh…” you whine.

Chuckling, he waits until you’ve raise your hips once more before sliding his finger out, a strand of your wetness pulling away. Rubbing over your clit gently with his fingers, he soothes you into a comfortable rhythm, your hips following his movements against his cock. When his fingers are nice and wet, he whispers ‘up,’ and you separate from his length. 

One-by-one, Mr. Suh slides in all of his fingers but his thumb into your entrance. Each time allowing you to adjust to his fingers and the spread of your inner walls. It’s been far too long since you’ve felt this good and without thinking, your pelvis starts to grind down onto his fingers. 

“That’s it baby,” he kisses your chin. “Fuck yourself with my fingers.”

With this simple command you sink yourself deeper down onto Mr. Suh’s fingers. Your body arching back, his fingers pressed together creating the perfect arch to rub over that sensitive spot inside of you. Forgetting to be coy, you become a moaning whimpering whore on top of him. The only thing running through your mind is trying to find that sweet release you’ve been dying to feel from the moment he kissed you. 

The way he grabbed you and choked you. The sensuous venom in his voice as he called you a brat. How he couldn’t help but rock his hips into yours while you sucked the life out of his tongue before you showed his cock — mere inches below you, the same treatment. Nothing else matters in the world right now than finding your release, but more importantly that Mr. Suh is the one helping you.

“SHIT!” You screech when a specific rock of your hip has you slowly coming undone on top of him. 

“Right there, baby?” He sits up, moving his body back to get a better angle.

“Yes! Yes!” You cry out.

Like a flash of light, Mr. Suh grips onto your hip while he quickly moves his fingers in and out of you — building up the pressure from deep inside of you. Your body starts to raise higher and higher as he continues to pound his fingers into you. Words are lost on your tongue while cries of pleasure and a bit of pain pour from you. The charging roar of your climax sending chills over your body, your sight becoming dark and blurry until you scream.

“FUCK!!!!” 

Liquid pours from you as Mr. Suh removes his hand, drenching his lap and the inside of your legs. He holds onto you tightly while your body jerks and spasms from the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt. 

“Keep going, baby,” he growls his hand rubbing over your clit gearing up another wave of juices to pour from you. “That’s it! That’s a good girl!” He chuckles, amazed at how riled up you got. “But I’m sorry, I need more from you.” Small spasms take over you as your placed with your back down on the couch and your legs wrapped around Mr. Suh’s hips. 

More? How can you possibly give any more than what you’ve already done? You know through the starry blackness covering your eyes, that you’ve soaked Mr. Suh’s lap and his couch in the process and yet he wants more? You didn’t even know you could squirt! And he wants to make you squirt more?!

Unwrapping your legs from his waist, he grabs a pillow from the couch placing it behind your head making sure you’re comfortable. Lifting up your legs he slides your drenched panties up and off of you, squeezing them to see how much of your squirt spills from them and onto the floor. 

“You have no idea how bad I want to fuck you right now,” he growls as the last drop of your essence hits the floor. 

“Then do it~~” you whine, still breathless from your release. 

“Patience, sweetie,” he chuckles, nestling between your legs. “I’m going to savor you for as long as I can.” 

Kissing the inside of your thighs, your body reacts instantaneously. Your legs clamping down around his face making him laugh as he’s squished between your thighs. Prying your legs open he gives your pussy mound a light kiss before his tongue finally lands on your bundle of nerves. 

“SH-SHIT!!!!” Your legs go to clamp around his face but he quickly holds out his hands to block them. “I-I can’t…I can’t…” you cry, your hands gripping the pillow behind you.

Popping his head up you can see your juices smeared across his lips and chin. “Yes you can,” he licks his lips staring you dead straight in the eyes. An involuntary moan has you bitting your bottom lip to keep you from making any more sounds. “You taste delicious,” he dives down for another lick. “Best pussy ever.” He mumbles against your folds.

Spreading your folds with his tongue, Mr. Suh clamps down around your clit, sucking it hard until you’re seeing stars once more. Raising your one leg up closer by your ears you give him more access. His hands move from your inner thighs to your hips while he devours you. Slurping sounds fill the room while he drinks you. 

Mr. Suh works quickly as he gears you up for your next orgasm. Hips moving against his mouth you try to urge your body as well to reach that place of euphoria once more. Hands moving from the pillow behind you to your breasts you massage the taut flesh giving in to the feeling of Mr. Suh’s tongue swirling around your clit and down to your entrance. 

Wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening like this on the couch, your body starts to rile up again. The tiny hairs on your body standing on end, a fire building up from the top of your head making its way to your stomach with ever roll of your hips and every swipe of Mr. Suh’s tongue.

As your hips raise higher and higher so does Mr. Suh’s face. Holding you steady he prods your entrance with his tongue, sucking up all of the juices that have since poured from you. 

“Don’t stop!” You moan. “Please don’t stop!” Darkness starts to take over your sight. The pressure in your stomach exploding into a million butterflies.

Gulping down your juices that starts to pour out of you once again, Mr. Suh wraps his arms around your legs keeping them in place, your pelvis raised in the air. 

“Come on, baby,” he says, face smushed into your pussy. “I need more from you.”  

Shaking in his hold, he moves his tongue up and down from your clit to your entrance again and again until the darkness turns into tiny stars. Finding comfort at your sensitive nub, he swirls his tongue around and around when a loud cry emits from you.

”F-FUCKKKK!!!!!!” 

You twist and try to get away from him when your orgasm takes you out like a freight train. Body quaking more liquid pours from you entering his mouth and onto the couch. Feeling like a fish out of water he uses all his strength to keep you onto the couch and not on the floor — still drinking you up as if he were dying of thirst. 

“I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!” You repeat still feeling his tongue on you. “I can’t!” Your hands flail to his hands tapping them to get him to stop.

Mr. Suh smiles and pulls back giving you small kisses on your clit, your mound and your inner thigh — nipping the inside of your left thigh before finally pulling away from you. 

“I could stay here forever,” he laps up your juices from his lips and chin while you lower yourself back down to the couch. Peeking up at you he kisses your clit one last time, earning a moan from you. “You really do have a delicious pussy,” he gives another kiss to your inner thigh. “Are you still with me?”

Shaking your head you lay there exposed in front of him too exhausted to move. “No…”

Laughing, Mr. Suh sits himself up and goes back to where he was sitting prior to making you a lifeless fuck doll. Giving your leg a little tap he calls to you. “Baby,” you barely have enough energy to look at him to see his sweet smile. Insatiable demon tutor! “Come to me.”

Sitting up lethargically, you find Johnny stroking his cock preparing himself for you. Bottom lip between your teeth, you stare at the man in front of you. How a woman would leave him is beyond your wildest imagination. Crawling towards him like a zombie, he wraps an arm around you as you get settled on his lap.

“How do you still have energy?” You ask him, forehead resting on top of his.

Chuckling, he holds you close to him. “I didn’t come three times in a row.” He gives you a little peck.

”And whose fault is that?” You retort.

”Hmm, I think it was a rather handsome tutor who has been fighting the urge day in and day out from kissing a certain student of his. He’s the culprit! Damn him!” 

“You’re a weird guy aren’t you?” You giggle nuzzling your nose against his. “But are you sure about this?” You ask him. “Once we start there’s no going back.” You hover above his length. 

Shocked by your sudden question, he eyes you carefully. “Are you having second thoughts?” 

“No.” His arms wrap around you, making you feel safe and secure. “But I’m not the one who’s married,” you lean back enough to lick his lips before placing a kiss upon them.

“Is it still a marriage when one person hasn’t called, sent a text, shown up in the last two years?” He nips along your jawline.

“No. I wouldn’t call that a marriage at all.” Reaching between your legs you take hold of his length positioning him at your entrance.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” he whispers in your ear.

Slowly lowering yourself onto Mr. Suh’s cock the two of you hiss when your walls surround his length. Gripping your waist tightly he grits his teeth at the snug fit. 

“You’re so tight,” he clamps down on the side of your neck. “Fuck! So good!”

“N-No…” you gasp as you bottom out. “You’re just really big!”

Smirking against your skin, Johnny looks up at you. “Don’t move. Just sit here for a while,” he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “I haven’t felt this good in two years,” he sighs contently.

“Wait…You haven’t been with another woman in two years?!”

“No. I always thought…” he goes quiet. “Silly, isn’t it?”

“Not silly,” you stroke his hair gently. “It’s just messed up what she did to you. I mean I wouldn’t leave someone as handsome as you. As sweet and kind as you. As patient as you’ve been with me and this tutoring business.” You start to giggle which draws his attention. “And not to make it all about your dick, but like hell I’d leave a man who’s as big as you.” With a gentle thrust he buries himself deeper inside of you. “Ahhh!!!” You moan. “N-Not cool, Mr. Suh,” you tease. 

“Not gonna lie, it’s been kind of hot to hear you call me Mr. Suh this whole time. Especially now when I’m buried inside of you,” he thrusts upward again. 

“Oh really?” Leaning down to his ear you whisper gently. “Mr. Suh, I want you to make me cum again,” you bite his ear gently. 

Holding onto your waist, Johnny keeps you steady as you start to use his dick to get yourself off. Grinding on top of him, your arms rest behind you, hands on his knees — back arching to feel him rub against you in such a tantalizing way, you start to go cross-eyed. He feels too good to stop or to slow down. His massive cock reaching parts of you no other person, man or woman, has ever reached before. 

“Shit!” You shout when you finally slow down.

Falling forward, one of your hands rests on the back of the couch, and Johnny uses the opportunity to grab your breasts massaging them while you bounce on his cock.

”Aaahhh…” you moan when he pinches your nipples, your hips jutting forward at the slight pain. 

“Come on baby, make yourself cum,” he leans forward wrapping his mouth around your nipple. 

“Fuck~~~” you hiss.

Your hips move faster than ever, your climax getting closer and closer with each swivel of your pelvis. 

“S-So close…” you cry out. 

Biting down on your nipple, Johnny swirls your erect bud within his mouth. Each time the tiniest bit of pain turns into pleasure and shoots to your core. Your body starts growing warmer as you gear up for another orgasm, but you need more, you want more. Tapping his arm he pulls back from your breast with a pop.

Without a second thought you turn yourself around on his lap, back facing him, you slide down onto his cock reveling in the feeling of being filled to the brim. His hands at your hips, you lean back till your face is next to his. Holding the side of your face he kisses you gently while stuffing his cock into your pussy. 

He pummels your pussy, your back arching, hips bouncing on top of him. Reaching around you, his other hand rubs over your clit making you pull away from him and cry out.

”Again! Please!!!!” 

One hand holding onto your neck, the other rubbing over your pulsing bundle of nerves, Mr. Suh pushes his cock deep into your soaking core. Wet squelching noises fill the room along with your moans. Completely bare to the world you fall into a deep trance of lust. 

As you're bouncing on top, Mr. Suh takes his hand and gives your swollen clit a little slap — a small action having you jut your hips forward, your body shivering with pleasure. The word again comes out of your mouth as if it were your mantra, he shoves you down onto his cock while he rubs over your pussy, but not before he gives it another little slap, this time, you let out a guttural scream of pleasure. 

“Ahhhhh…shit!!!!” 

With each thrust of his hips into you, you slide up his cock little by little only to drench his length, the couch, and floor with your juices. Legs shaking, he holds onto you with one hand, the other snaking between your legs — fingers entering inside of you, moving quickly until you release again onto the floor. 

“Fucking love this pussy,” Mr. Suh growls into your ear as he yanks you backdown onto his cock. 

Neither of you waste time as you bounce on top of him again. Still sensitive from before your moans grow louder. Each thrust hitting every nerve of your body just right. Your heart pounds in your ears, as Mr. Suh once again rubs over your sensitive clit. In no time you’re screaming out that you're coming yet again and soon your body pulls away from him as you squirt onto his floor. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he pulls you back down onto the couch.

Lifeless from the epitome of pleasure, he places you onto all fours while he gets behind you. Sliding into you, he grabs your hips and rams into you. 

Back arched, ass up in the air you cling onto the fabric of his couch — now soaked in your juices. Mr. Suh’s long thick cock drives into you, sparing you no mercy as your whimpers continue nonstop.

Wanting to feel him deeper inside of you, you start pushing yourself against him — ass flush against his hips.

“More…more…” you cry out.

Possessed by your own lust for him, you start bouncing on his lap — pussy gulping him down inch by inch. Mr. Suh’s groans getting drowned out by your desperation. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yell each time your hips meet his. 

Hunched over you, he digs his nails into your flesh as he pushes into you harder balls slapping against you. It wasn’t long until your eyes clench shut and your body starts to tremble. Moving faster Mr. Suh pushes you to lose your senses once more. 

“I-I-I’m coming!” You scream. 

Shoving his cock into you a few more times Mr. Suh pulls out just as you explode, your squirt pouring down onto your legs. Cupping your core, he eases you back down from your high while simultaneously driving you over the edge. 

“Lay down for me, okay?” He asks, kissing your cheek. 

Crawling onto the couch you flop down onto your back, arms and legs feeling like anchors on your body. Chuckling, he hovers over you, hiking one of your legs up to give him more room to move. Dazed you run your hands down his chest feeling the muscles of his body. Biting your lip, you try to keep yourself from coming undone just by the look and feel of him. 

“You’re so beautiful right now,” he smiles, bending down to give you a quick kiss on the lips while he teases your entrance. 

“S-Sure I am,” a shiver comes over you, your hips already moving against the tip of his cock. 

“Trust me, if only you could see how beautiful you look right now,” he rubs the tip of his cock over your swollen pulsing bud before sliding into you. 

Eyes closed you relish in the feeling of Mr. Suh being inside of you. All those days and weeks wanting to know what it was like could never paint a good picture of what it truly was like to be filled by the man above you. The roll of his hips as he goes deeper inside of you. The soft yet powerful thrusts, his body getting dangerously close to yours — trapping you beneath him, somehow getting squished under this man doesn’t sound like a bad idea. 

How he grips your body tightly, nails sinking into your skin causing just the right amount of pain to push you closer to your breaking point. Opening your eyes, you gasp seeing the sight above you. Mr. Suh’s hair drenched in sweat, his body glistening in the light of his lamps. Eyes dark and yet so full of… admiration, you can’t help but pull him down closer to you. Wanting nothing more than your bodies to be connected to each other. 

“I don’t want to squish you,” he chuckles in your ear. 

“Do it, I don’t care.” You wrap your legs just above his pelvis. “Crush me into this couch while you fuck me!” 

Grunting, Mr. Suh slams his hips into yours so hard you see nothing but black for a second. “Shit!” You screech holding onto him for dear life. 

Just like you asked, he doesn’t hold back anymore. His body lowering onto you completely, his hips grinding into yours fast and hard you’re shocked you haven’t been split in half already. Nails sliding down his back, he picks up his pace signaling he’s close. Hands going up to his hair, you grip the ends tightly begging for him to use you. 

“Fuck. That. Pussy!” You growl in his ears. “Shit! I love your dick so much,” you bite down on his ear. 

Like some kind of primal creature, Mr. Suh growls and moves his hips faster and deeper — crushing you into the couch, not caring at all whether or not he’s hurting you. The only thing he’s chasing is the high he's made you feel time and time again this afternoon. 

His breathing becomes ragged as do his thrusts and just as he pulls out of you, that powerful wave of euphoria washes over you. Pumping himself in his hand, Mr. Suh throws his head back as he cums — white strands landing on top of your clit and mound. 

“Sh-Shit!” He growls, his hand moving up and down his length quickly not stopping until he’s painted your pussy in every last drop of his cum. “Fuck~~” he exhales deeply, his body sinking back onto his knees. 

With his length still in his hand he leans forward rubbing the tip of his cock over your clit. You yelp, almost pulling away when suddenly your body starts to become hot. Your breathing quickens and before you know it, you scream as another wave of satisfaction makes you crumble beneath him. 

“F-F-Fuck!!!” He smirks, still rubbing over your swollen bundle of nerves. “O-Okay… okay…” you hold out your hands, body jerking and shaking. “I really can’t… no more, no more…” you cry out and giggle.

Pulling away from you, Mr. Suh takes a breather before tapping your legs that are sprawled out, a picture perfect view of your cum soaked core in front of him. Sitting up he opens his arms for you. Getting up to your hands and knees you crawl over to him only to melt in his arms and lap. 

“That was…” he starts a goofy smile on his face. 

“DAMN YOU!” You hit his chest playfully. “Now I won’t be able to have sex with anyone else.” 

Laughing, Mr. Suh wraps you tightly in his arms kissing the top of your head. “Good,” he pulls back far enough to see your face. “Because I’m far from done with you. I still haven’t punished you,” he squints.

”EHHH?!!!” 

A loud giggle and the slam of a door startles both you and Mr. Suh. Leaping up from the couch and his arms you scramble to get your clothes and throw him his. Both of you heading back to his study, you giggle as you both give each other sneaky touches that if it wasn’t for Lily coming home it would sure start up another round. 

Stepping into your pants and throwing on your bra and shirt, Mr. Suh has since put on his jeans and shirt and is trying to help you as best as he can. Grabbing your hand he pulls you out of his study, down the hall and heads straight for the kitchen. Taking out your binder you pretend that you have been working on your homework and studying when the door opens — just as Mr. Suh sits down next to you. 

”Daddy! Daddy!” 

“In the kitchen sweetheart,” he shouts, his chest heaving. 

Lily comes running into the kitchen with a huge stuffed animal in her tiny arms. “Daddy, look!” She holds out a tiger cub. “Isn’t she cute?!” 

“She’s adorable! Did you give her a name?”

”Kimmie!” 

“That’s a wonderful name,” Mr. Suh strokes her hair. “Is Uncle Jaehyun with you?”

”I’m here,” he saunters into the kitchen, more leisurely looking than what you’re used to. His hair isn’t slicked back neatly, but resting gently around his eyes. Though he still looks put together, a plain white t-shirt and denim jeans, on him — he’s just like a model from a clothing ad. 

“Uncle Jaehyun won it for me!” She jumps and down with the tiger in her arms. 

“Did he?” Mr. Suh smirks. “How long did it take you?”

”Too long…” he groans. “By the way what’s up with the huge wet mess on the couch?” 

Going stiff beside Mr. Suh you try to act normal. You try not to act like you’re the cause of the massive puddle that is slowly soaking into his furniture. Let alone, the floor which Mr. Jeong most likely saw as well. 

“We had to come into the kitchen after spilling some white wine on the couch. It was my fault. I tripped,” Mr. Suh laughs, scratching the back of his neck.

”And you just left the puddle of wine on the floor?” Mr. Jeong crosses his arms, his eyes going from Mr. Suh, to you. 

“I was just about to clean it up when you guys walked in,” he says with an eerie perkiness. “Lily, sweetheart, why don’t you go and put Kimmy upstairs with your other stuffed animals. Your uncle and I need to talk.”

”Okay daddy,” she hops over to Mr. Jeong and he instantly picks her up and gives her a huge hug and kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for taking me to the arcade Uncle Jeong.”

”You’re welcome,” he gives her one last kiss and she skips off to her bedroom.

The kitchen is quiet until Mr. Jeong hears footsteps above his head. Most likely Lily heading to her room. When the footsteps start to disappear, he stares accusingly at both Mr. Suh and yourself.

”What the hell is going on?” 

Getting up from the table, Mr. Suh heads towards a counter far off from where you’re seated and grabs a couple paper towels. Sinking in your seat you stay there before jumping up. 

“I-I can do that Mr. Suh! Plus, Mr. Jeong wanted to talk to you.”

”Seriously, Mr. Jeong? We’re not in class anymore, it’s Jaehyun.” 

“Sorry, Mr. Jaehyun.” You rush over and grab the paper towels and head for the mess you made before anyone could say anything else. 

Taking a peek at the mess Mr… Jaehyun mentioned, you cringe at the face he most likely made. He’s a smart man, there's no way he didn’t think up some kind of weird scenario in his head of what could have happened. And as much as Mr. Suh tried to cover it up, there is no way he’s going to believe that happened at all. 

Getting on your hands and knees you start to wipe up the puddles of your squirt you made on the floor. It wasn’t as much as you thought, most of it on the couch which you’ll have to fork over some of your shopping money to pay for a deep cleaning or a new couch for Mr. Suh. Your head hangs low as all of the different items you wanted to buy slowly become a wish instead of a dream. 

‘What’s your problem? I told you nothing happened!’ Mr.Suh’s voice travels into the living room. ‘Are you serious? That’s what you’re upset about?’ 

Sitting up you lean back trying to see what’s going on in there, but sadly there is no clear view into the kitchen from the living room. 

‘I told you that in confidence and you go behind my back?!’ Jaehyun shouts. ‘What kind of friend does that?’

Mr. Suh went behind his back? You start scooting closer and closer to the kitchen, still within the vicinity of your mess, but much closer to hear what’s really being said. 

‘Have you talked to her at all? Did you even ask her if she likes you? If you’re even her type?’

‘That isn’t what we’re discussing here!’ Jaehyun mumbles. ‘We’re discussing the obvious mess out in the living room!’ 

‘What are you trying to imply?’

Your body has now pressed itself onto the wall, heart pounding as Jaehyun’s voice becomes but a mere whisper… ‘you fucked her didn’t you?’ Waiting for Mr. Suh’s response, your arm that was wiping up your slick off the floor is now wiping a nonexistent mess in the air — your mind far too invested in the conversation both your… teachers are having in the other room. 

‘Why would you think that?’ Mr. Suh replies, his voice steady.

‘THERE IS A FUCKING MESS OUT IN THE LIVING ROOM! Do you think I buy that bullshit about spilling white wine?’

‘Why would you automatically go to sex? Why isn’t it believable that we both sat down for a glass of wine and it spilled?’

‘Where are the glasses? Where is the bottle? Hmmm?’

Mr. Suh doesn’t say a single word. Jaehyun was right, there is absolutely no way that Johnny can get out of this one. Not even you can think of an excuse that would be good enough to use. 

‘Please just tell me you didn’t fuck her… not after I confessed I had feelings for her. Please tell me you didn’t do it, please.’

Your eyes widen at Mr. Jeong’s words. He has a crush on… you shake your head. That can’t be, he’s your teacher! There’s no way in hell he could like you! Even if he did, there's no way that you can date him, it’s unethical! Not to mention…you take the risk and peek around the corner to see both Mr. Jeong and Mr. Suh sitting down at the kitchen table — Mr. Jeong waiting, pleading for Mr. Suh to answer him. 

‘I’m sorry, Jaehyun.’

Jumping up from his chair, Mr. Jeong knocks it over and it crashes to the floor making you jump. ‘Are you fucking kidding me, man? What is wrong with you? I would never do that to you! So why?’ He slams his hands down on the table, ‘why?!’ He shouts.

‘She doesn’t belong to you, Jaehyun. She has choices that she can make on her own. It wasn’t planned and I wasn’t plotting against you. It just… happened,’ he sighs. ‘I don’t regret it, all I regret is that you’re upset with me.’

‘It just happened? Is that what you’re going for? Shit man! I told you once she wasn’t my student anymore I was going to ask her out! What is your —

“I would have said no.” You storm into the kitchen. 

Spinning towards you, Mr. Jeong’s shoulders fall from his ears. “You were listening?”

“You weren’t exactly being quiet.” You take the wet paper towels and put them in the trash. “No matter if you asked me the moment I passed your class or a year from now I would have said no. It would be unethical for you to date a student, a former one at that when they’re still actively going to school where you work.”

“She’s not wrong,” Mr. Suh chuckles. 

“Shut up!” Both Mr. Jeong and yourself say in unison. 

“It was never going to be you, Mr… Jaehyun. I hope you understand. If I led you on in any way I apologize, it was never my —”

He holds up a hand. “You didn’t lead me on, ever. These feelings are mine alone.”

“Where does that leave us?” Mr. Suh stands and walks over to you. “Would you be against us, if we…” he looks down at you. 

“If we become a couple?” You finish his statement. 

Running a hand through his hair Jaehyun shakes his head. “There is one thing standing in your way, pal. You’re still married. What if she comes back? Are you going to drop everything and go back to her?”

Shit… You glance up at Mr. Suh. There is no way he will choose you over his wife, not the woman he’s stayed abstinent for…until now and certainly not the mother of his child. He’d always choose…

“I never plan to leave. I waited for two years. My life has been on hold for two years, I’m not going to let anyone make it stop again. I’ll file for divorce immediately and ask her parents to give her the papers. I should have done this already.” He wraps an arm around your waist. “It’s about time I find someone who makes me happy.”

The room goes silent once more as you wait for Jaehyun to give his blessings or walk out. His eyes roam over yours, but when he turns away the tiniest bit of a smile comes to his lips and you know that everything is going to be fine.

“Damn bro, I’m not her dad.” He chuckles.

“No, you’re just the guy who wanted to fuck me too.” You smile brightly. 

“HEY!” Jaehyun shouts. “I wanted to at least take you out on a few dates first,” he clarifies, a boyish grin across his face.  “But unlike this guy over here,” he gestures to Johnny. “I would have put out some towels first.”

“Really? Jokes already?” Mr. Suh rolls his eyes.

Shrugging he walks out of the kitchen and to the door, both you and Mr. Suh following behind. “Your girlfriend started it. Now just because you’re dating my best friend don’t you dare think for a second I won’t fail your ass!” He warns opening up the door. “You’ve worked this hard don’t throw it away from some —”

”And he’s leaving,” Mr. Suh shoves Jaehyun through the frame of the door. 

“See you at school Mr. Jeong!” You wave goodbye. 

Smirking, he gives you a small wave before leaving. “I expect high marks on your final. Don’t disappoint me.” 

The next couple of weeks were rough. Every day you were grilled from the moment you arrived at Mr. Suh’s house to the moment you packed up to go home for your final exam. It didn’t matter that Mr. Suh fucked you stupid or that you squirted all over his couch and his floor, the couch needing a deep cleaning — even then you still offered to pitch in to get him a new one, but he waved off the offer. The choking, biting, blowjob, everything didn’t matter in his eyes. The only thing that mattered was you would pass Mr. Jeong’s course. 

So you studied. You ignored every throb and clench of your clit and entrance when he would lean in close to you. You swallowed down the urge to climb onto his lap at the kitchen table and have him fuck you while you answered any and all math questions he threw your way. You ignored everything that your body wanted because you too wanted to pass Mr. Jeong’s class. 

What you didn’t expect are your legs shaking non stop while you wait for your final exam grade. The year prior you went into your classroom, took the final exam and left — finding out later what your grade was, but not in Mr. Jeong’s class. This time you needed to meet up at the computer lab because your exam was online, your grade being tallied immediately after you finished, or so you thought. 

You didn’t calculate that all of your other classmates were taking the same test, at the same time and were finishing up around the same time as you. A few people sat back and stared into space, others laid their head down until whenever they felt an appropriate amount of time passed. But you just stared at your computer screen until your eyes started to cross. 

Peeking above your screen to where Mr. Jeong sat at the main desk in the room, reading a book, your eyes met his as he scanned the room. He didn’t say anything but raised his brow. Lowering back into your seat you hear a ding startling not just you but other classmates as one by one your grades are shown. 

Your heart sinks to your stomach. This couldn’t be happening. Hands grip your shoulders from behind making you shout and quickly cover your mouth. 

“I’d like to speak with you after class about your grade.” Mr. Jeong whispers. 

“Uh, yes, Mr. Jeong.”

Sighing, you shake your head when he walks away checking in on other students who were still taking their exams. 

Twenty minutes pass and your math final exam is over and done with. The only other class you needed to complete was a Special Education course in which you just had to turn in your observations from shadowing a teacher for a week as well as write an essay. That class, you’d actually miss, but Mr. Jeong’s… it will be a blessing if you never step foot in this room with him again! 

The last couple of people pack up their things and leave the room. Mr. Jeong erases the white board before turning your way, a smirk plastered on his face. 

“Would you please come up front so we can talk?”

Gathering your backpack you walk up to the front of the classroom, a chair already near the main desk waiting for you, spectacular. 

“So, how bad is it?” You ask plopping down on the seat. “Give it to me straight, no sugar coating Mr. Jeong.” 

“Jaehyun.” He corrects you.

”Still on campus, Mr. Jeong.”

Chuckling, he leans on the desk next to you. “Yeah, but I’m no longer going to be your teacher. So the formalities can drop when we see each other in private.”

”It doesn’t matter if you’re going to be my teacher or no —” you cut yourself off realization coming to you. “Wait… you’re not going to be my teacher anymore?”

Shaking his head, Mr. Jeong smiles. “Nope.”

“Does that mean…?”

Nodding, he takes a slip of paper from the desk and writes down your new final grade. “You have passed this class with a C-.” 

“A C-?” Your eyes go from amazed to grumpy. “I thought it would have at least been a C+ borderline B…” you grumbled.

Taking one of his folders he hits you on the head with it. “Do you not know how shitty your grades were before Johnny started to help you? I’m amazed you even had a passing grade. You did well and I seriously owe Johnny a huge favor.” He snickers. “Or maybe you can just do him a favor,” he wiggles his brows. 

“Mr. Jeong, I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to talk about your students' love life at all.”

”Damn… nothing?” He asks. Shaking your head no, he eyes you up and down. “How does that even happen? From the mess you made I would have assumed the two of you would fuck each other’s brains out every time you’re together.” He clicks his tongue. “Still hate that I sent you to him.”

Laughing, you stand up. “Like I said, Mr. Jeong, you wouldn’t have stood a chance.” You bend down to meet him eye to eye. “Plus, I would mess up your apartment.”

Leaning forward his face inches from your own, “leather couch and that faux wooden flooring. Perfect at preventing scuff marks and for spills of all kinds.” 

Reaching up you ruffle his hair, mess it all up and walk away. “See you around, Jaehyun.”

”You better work your ass off tonight and show him how thankful you are!” 

“Sure thing!” You wave, but when you reach for the doorknob you pause. “Jaehyun,” your voice goes soft. 

“Yeah?” He stands from the desk gathering his belongings. 

“Thanks for the help you gave me too. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have gotten the help I needed. You didn’t need to do that. I mean you guys already have our money. Whether we fail or not… that’s up to us. But you didn’t want me to fail and I didn’t want to fail either. This passing grade goes to you as well. Please never stop helping your students.”

”My place, ask Johnny for directions and you can show me how much I helped you,” he gives you an almost similar smirk that Mr. Suh gave you, must be something they both learned. He bumps your shoulder as you both stand in front of the door. “But seriously, it’s no problem at all. It would look terrible on my record if too many students failed my class,” he places his hand over yours and makes you turn the doorknob. 

“You can repay me by not breaking his heart. I can’t watch him fall apart again.”

”I would never hurt him, Jaehyun. Honest. Even if we do end up breaking up if he ever needed me…”

Pushing you out the door with his hands he closes the door behind you two. “Good. He’s a great guy and he loves hard. It’s never a game with him. If you need to go slow and take your time, which I suggest,” you both walk down the hall to the elevator. “Please just make sure that he’s never kept in the dark with your feelings. It’s not my place to say any of this, but honestly, what his soon to be ex-wife did to him… it was pretty bad.”

”I’m still trying to wrap my head around a mother leaving her child for two years without contact.”

”There are things that even Johnny and I don’t understand.”

”Jaehyun, do you think if she ever comes back Mr. Suh… Johnny will go to her without a second thought about me?” You ask, stepping into the elevator, thank heavens for it being empty aside from Jaehyun and yourself.

“I can’t say for certain if he would or would not.” He pushes the button for the first floor. “They were in love from the moment they saw each other. It was back when we were freshmen in college. Everyone on campus knew them as the “it” couple. He was in a fraternity and she was in a sorority. He played sports and she loved anything to do with the arts. 

“On the outside they may seem different but when you saw them together,” the elevator doors open and you both step out heading for the main doors of the building. “It was as if they were supposed to be together. Two souls that searched the heavens and earth to be together. I’m not saying this to scare you off,” he opens one of the doors and allows you to step out into the crisp winter air. 

“I know.” You whisper.

”All you need to know is that something happened. Whatever that something was, I don’t know and neither does Johnny. He’s tried to reach out to her friends and family but all they’ve said is that they can’t talk.”

”Could it have been something he did? Something he doesn’t know?”

Shrugging, Jaehyun wraps his navy blue scarf around his neck, putting his hands into his coat pockets. “It could be, but if he did do something he doesn’t know what he did.” 

“It still doesn’t excuse the fact that if he did something to make her mad — she refused to speak or even acknowledge her own child for two years.”

”Which is why I’m happy you came along. I genuinely never heard or seen him as happy as he is with you for quite some time — more than two years in fact. Speaking of happiness, let's get away from this dreary subject. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

”I was going to go over to Mr. Suh’s house and hang out before meeting some friends for a girl’s night. A small get together before the winter break.”

”And you’re going back home this winter?”

Stopping in your tracks you look up at Jaehyun realizing that you never once discussed winter plans with Mr. Suh or your family. In fact, you were so busy studying you never asked him if you guys were official. If he and Lily would like to come over during the break. Would it be too early for them to meet your family?!

”Uhhhh…” your eyes start to shake. 

“Calm down,” Jaehyun pats your shoulder. “Johnny and Lily visit his parents during Christmas. So there, now you don’t have to freak out.”

”Jackass…” you grumble before walking away from him.

”My suggestion,” he says, jogging up to you. “Spend New Year’s with him. He’s always at home with Lily.”

”I’ll bring everything up with him when I see him.” You reassure. 

“Sure you will,” he claps you on the back before moving away from you. “I’m parked this way. Make sure you celebrate! It was nice having you in class.” He waves while heading in the direction of his car. 

“Thanks for everything, Mr. Jeong!” You shout smirking as you go back to addressing him formally. 

Giving you a gritted teeth smile he shouts, “your welcome!”

It wasn’t until your normally scheduled time that you head over to Mr. Suh’s. Primary and secondary schools didn’t get to go on Winter break for two more weeks, while you were free to come and go as you pleased. However, living two hours away from the University wasn’t ideal for meeting up to see Mr. Suh and even see Lily. 

You needed to talk to him about what you were going to do going forward. Now that he’s no longer your tutor, you won’t need him (hopefully) while you finish out your years in school; so knowing where you two stand needs to be a topic for discussion. 

Pulling onto Mr. Suh’s street, your hands start to grow clammy. You made sure to tell him as well as Jaehyun that you wanted to be the one to say what your final grade is. No secret text messages between the two of them. Face to face is what you wanted, whether you passed or failed. 

Now a few houses from Mr. Suh’s you sit up in the driver’s seat to find his car is parked in the driveway. A huge smile coming to your face, but the smile soon fades. Not only was his car in the driveway, but an unknown car is parked next to him. Slowly, you park where you normally do at the end of the driveway and you put your car in park. 

Taking out your phone you shoot him a quick message: 

I’m outside. 

There’s another car in your driveway. 

Is it safe to come inside?

You wait for a reply back, but nothing. He doesn’t even look at it. Thinking it’s best to wait for a little longer, you scroll through some of the text messages and social media posts to pass the time until he hopefully answers back, but he never does. 

The chill of the evening starts to creep around you, making you hug your body. It wouldn’t be rude to at least ring the doorbell and make sure that it’s either safe to come inside despite him having a guest or that you need to go back to your dorm, right? 

Shaking your head, you grab your purse, phone and keys. You can’t just wait until the person inside leaves, or for Mr. Suh to pick up his phone to read the message — you’d become a human popsicle by then. Closing your car door you hesitantly make your way up the pathway to his front door. Your mind racing with a million thoughts of how this was both okay to do and rude. 

But for all you know it could be a friend of his over for a quick visit before leaving, just like you. With this thought in mind you ring the doorbell and give the door a light knock. Stepping back you wait patiently for the door to open. It doesn’t take long for Mr. Suh to come to the door but instead of greeting you, he scrambles out of the door, closing it behind him.

”You can’t be here right now,” he whispers. “You need to go. I’ll call you tomorrow and you can come over.”

”I’m leaving tomorrow. I wanted to talk to you about that actually. Is someone inside?”

”Yes, but really you need to —”

”Sweetheart, what’s going on?” A female’s voice calls from the front door. “Who’s out there?” 

“For the love of…” he growls. “Look, you need to go. We’ll talk after you come back from your break. But please, let me explain everything!” He turns you around to your car.

”Johnny what is going on? Who is she?” The woman’s voice sounds closer than before. Looking back you see a rather beautiful woman standing behind him. Her arms crossed over her chest, hip jutted out and eyes bouncing from you to Johnny. “Who is she?”

Stepping around Mr. Suh you walk up to her with a huge smile on your face. “Hi, I’m Mr. Suh’s student. He’s been tutoring me this semester. I just came by to tell him I passed.” Your smile falters as you turn to face him.

”Y-You did?” He searches your eyes for anything that will let him know you’re not mad at him. “That’s wonderful news.”

”Johnny’s always been the smartest man I’ve known,” the woman walks over to him linking her arm with his. “It’s one of the reasons I married him…” 

[amarriageoftrueminds]

I have reblogged this before but here's a random selection of fonts Steve's handwriting could look like:

@stuckyfingers @amarriageoftrueminds tagging the experts in Steve Rogers meta.

[katzenmas]

König who leaves you little notes when he has to leave the house earlier than you. they're small colorful post its that he sticks on any surface he can.

the tradition started quite a while ago. back when he would leave for ops without telling you, coming back and missing you just by a few minutes. it took a toll on the relationship. he wasn't allowed to have his phone on during ops and there was no way of contacting him.

so one time you took out your old stationary stack and scribbled ' do NOT leave your muddy boots on my white rug when you come back', the pink post it was stuck to the entryway hallway wall. right where he meticulously hangs his jacket every time he comes back home in the dead of night.

when könig read the note a smile tugged on his lips. he took the steel toe boots and put them in the bathroom, deciding to clean them off tomorrow. after a long shower the sun was creeping up on the horizon and the austrian stood in your shared kitchen, ransacking the cabinets.

his strudel that he always buys from a small pastry shop had run out, the milk was turning sour by the smell and there was no more beer. looking at the clock and realizing that you will be up in 40 minutes to go to work he finds a post it and starts writing.

'i went to the store to buy some groceries. please if you eat my strudel leave some for me next time liebe'

the neon yellow note on the fridge caught your attention as you were frantically trying to put together a small breakfast to scarf down before you were late. with a quirk of your brow you picked up a different post it and stuck it right below his.

' you know i dont eat your layered pastries. you were the one that ate the remainder of it after getting drunk.

p.s please make some food for lunch, i'll swing by on my break'

the method worked for you. sometimes it was a list of stuff to get for the house, a little poem you would try to write in german, a reminder for an important date, but sometimes it was just a sweet ' i love you' written in cursive and stuck to the wall behind your bed.

' please stop trying to write in german schatzi, the grammar is hurting my eyes. at least use google translate'

' PLEASE DO NOT TAKE MY PANTIES ON YOUR OPS I'M RUNNING LOW ON UNDERWEAR!!!!'

' soup's in the fridge. get some baking soda when you go to the store'

' i love you hase! p.s sorry i broke your laptop it was an accident'

'how did you ACCIDENTALLY sit on my work laptop'

[organicxslime]

☆how they bagged you (gojo, geto, nanami, toji)☆

「GOJO」 wriggled his way into your heart with the power of sweets. He figured out pretty early on that you had a sweet tooth as rotten as he did, so he used it to his advantage, inviting you to try out new cafes and bakeries that cropped up in cities where he was going on missions. Each time you'd accompany him to one of these establishments, he'd promptly show off, flashing a platinum bank card that sounded an expensive, metallic clang as he tossed it on the counter, buying quite literally every single dessert you had your eye on with no regard for the cost. He's fairly certain he accidentally spent $400 in a single bakery once. He finally bagged you by taking you to an upscale cafe and having the waitress bring out the fluffiest, most intricately decorated cake they could possibly produce, looping cursive on the top spelling out “will you be my girlfriend?"

(In all honesty, you don't have enough room in your stomach for the sheer amount of sweets that he buys you, but his students certainly enjoy it when you slip them whatever mountain of dessert you have left over.)

「GETO」 gently coaxes you into loving him with his sweet, quiet voice and honeyed words. He noticed within a few weeks of meeting you that you seemed to stand at rapt attention whenever he spoke, and it didn’t take a genius to know that you liked his voice. It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced something like this - there had been others before who complimented his voice, saying he had a soft, kind tone that was pleasant to listen to - and he knew he could use it to his advantage. He intentionally makes himself sound quieter and more agreeable when he speaks to you, lovingly praising you and complimenting you for the smallest of things. you can’t help but swoon each time he greets you in that lyrical tone, and when he finally asks you on a date , you melt at how hopeful and sweet his voice sounds.

(later, when that same voice is murmuring filthy things into your ear, you’ll be silently reaffirming to yourself that he was absolutely the right choice.)

「NANAMI」 won you over by being the perfect gentleman. He's not one for dirty tricks or flashy displays of affection - he finds these things repulsive. No, he's going to take a much more classic route with it. It starts with little things - a shared smile here and there, complimenting you often, and making sure to stop by and greet vou everv morning at work. From there, he'll graduate to more direct methods, like inviting you to dinner and remembering your exact coffee order to surprise vou with the next morning. As your bond grows, so do his advances, and he finds himself arriving to work an hour early to slip sweet hand-written notes into our desk. Eventually he surprises you with a bouquet of red roses, chastely asking you out on a date, and you're so smitten you can't imagine a world where you would say no.

(You like his methods, but in all fairness he could have taken you on a date to a 7/11 and you still would've been drooling over him afterwards. For the sake of your standards, though, the romantic gestures were entirely necessary.)

「TOJI」 snaked his way into your heart by shamelessly using his body. You were gym buddies, and he had noticed before how your eyes lingered on his body, watching beads of sweat roll off of his glistening pecs and paying particularly close attention to the way his back flexed when he would lift. He began teasing you, making you sit on his toned back as he did pushups, giving you a front row seat to every contraction of his rolling muscles. He'd have you help him tape up for support, too - smoothing the athletic tape over his thick legs and reaching around his basketball-sized biceps to bind up his elbows drove you absolutely wild. At one point, you're pressing his feet to the floor while he does sit-ups, and all of a sudden he leans up further than ever before, leaning into your face and catching you by the lips. Amused, you ask him what that was for, and he says he'll explain himself - but only if you'll let him take you out to dinner.

(You knew damn well what he was up to - but you're just as depraved as he is, and knew a solid opportunity to feel up on a buff man when you saw it. You're so down bad you didn't even care that he asked you to pay for dinner.)

[matrixbearer2024]

Can't Sleep Love [Stanford Pines X Reader]

Ford is up working late again, drowning himself in work because restful sleep continues to elude him. That was until you came into the picture, and you both know that Ford can’t truly deny you anything. It doesn’t matter how stubborn he is.

OOC: God I suck at summaries- anyway here's a fic I was working on because oh my GOD I missed writing this geriatric and he's adorable okay-

[Sleep has always been a distant thing, a reluctant guest— until you came along, whispering for me to rest beside you.]

Ford wasn’t entirely sure what he was working towards. Papers crumpled, journal pages filled with almost unintelligible scrawl, his ink staining the pages with endless numbers and letters. It was going to be one of those nights— one where peaceful sleep remained an impossibility, slipping through his grasp like smoke. He didn’t even bother reaching for it anymore, not when he already knew what awaited him on the other side.

Harsh nightmares, regrets, deep wounds that refused to heal— scars that marred his flesh, both mental and emotional, seared into his very being like brands of memory. The state of his well-being almost mirrored the state of his desk. Papers and books lay in scattered disarray, empty coffee mugs stacked haphazardly to the side, long forgotten. Nothing was where it should be.

The mess was a stark contrast to his usual meticulous and orderly nature.

And yet, Stanford couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too tired to even begin organizing it, much less clean up the wreckage of his workspace. Running purely on fumes, he pushed forward, determined to keep the monsters in his mind at bay. Even if it meant forcing himself to work to the brink of exhaustion, even if he had to bury himself in equations and theory just to drown out the thoughts clawing at the edge of his consciousness.

His work was consuming, methodical. If he let himself fall into the calculations, if he lost himself in the hypotheses, in the endless cycle of experimentation, then time blurred into an abstract concept— an inconsequential thing, swallowed whole by the pursuit of discovery. A welcome distraction from the horrors lurking beneath the surface, waiting for him the moment he allowed himself to rest.

Then, the pen in his grasp began to stutter against the paper, leaving behind an unsightly blotch of ink.

At first, Ford thought nothing of it— perhaps just an unfortunate clogging of the nib, or an old pen finally giving out under the relentless pressure of his scribbling. But as he lifted it to inspect the tip, rolling it lightly between his fingers, a faint frown tugged at the corners of his lips. There was still ink left, plenty of it. And yet, when he tried pressing it to the page again, it stuttered and faltered, leaving behind uneven, jagged lines instead of the precise, methodical words he had intended.

Stanford huffed through his nose.

So much for keeping his notes clean. Yet, as he turned the pages to glance over his previous work, most of it was indecipherable. The elegant and deliberate cursive he once took pride in had been reduced to nothing more than sleep-deprived scribbles. He could barely make sense of his own writing.

The longer he stared at the page, the less it made sense. The equation he had been editing, rewriting, revisiting over and over again— it had all blurred together into something incomprehensible.

What was he even working on?

His mind was failing him. All logical thought had come screeching to a halt, refusing to function, refusing to move forward, no matter how desperately he tried to force it. The once-blazing fire of his intellect had burned itself to embers, and even those embers were beginning to ash over.

Restarting that fire would be impossible without fuel.

And Ford had nothing left to burn.

With a heavy sigh, the scientist finally put his pen down. Continuing now, when all he seemed capable of doing was staining the pages with ink and exhaustion, was an exercise in futility. Of all the nights his trusted jotter had to give out, it had to be tonight.

The universe had a way of playing cruel tricks on him, didn’t it? A part of him wanted to believe that he deserved it— that this was some kind of cosmic retribution for the countless mistakes he had made in his life.

Then again, fate had never been kind to him.

The sound of the basement door creaking open barely registered at first. His focus remained firmly rooted in the inked diagrams and unfinished calculations sprawled across his journal, his mind wandering anywhere but here. Days long gone, memories that haunted, time he could never get back. The monsters in his head refused to bid him adieu.

Then, he heard it.

Soft footsteps against the wooden floor. A faint inhale— hesitant, lingering.

His shoulders instinctively stiffened before he forced himself to relax. He already knew who it was.

No one else dared to venture down here this late. No one else ever tried to pull him away from his work. No one but you.

"(Y/N)…?"

His voice came out rough, almost disbelieving, as if his exhaustion-addled mind hadn’t yet fully processed your presence. In the dim quiet of the lab, the steady patter of rain against the window nearly lulled him into the sleep he so vehemently resisted.

Ford still fought against its pull. What was the point of resting when all that awaited him was the inevitable jolt awake, the cold sweat clinging to his skin, the suffocating weight of dreams that refused to let him go?

He didn’t want to sleep.

When he finally looked up, his glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose, and for a moment— just a fleeting moment— he forgot how to breathe.

The soft golden glow of the desk lamp illuminated you in warm hues, light catching the delicate curve of your face, your silhouette outlined like something ethereal. A trick of the light, surely. And yet, the sight was enough to steal the breath from his lungs.

Or maybe that was just the exhaustion talking.

You lingered at the entrance of the lab, shifting your weight slightly, the familiar flicker of mischief in your eyes tempered by something softer.

"I knew you’d still be down here."

Your voice broke the silence, gentle yet firm, an undeniable truth.

Ford swallowed, suddenly all too aware of how long he had been hunched over his desk. His back ached, his fingers throbbed from gripping the pen too tightly, and his mind— his mind waged a war against itself, a battle fought on all fronts.

You always had a way of doing that to him.

Disarming him with nothing more than your presence.

Stealing the air from his lungs with nothing more than a glance.

Autonomy had never truly been his when you were around.

"You should be asleep."

The scientist muttered, his six fingers absently drumming against the desk. His words were more of a deflection than an argument, thrown out automatically rather than with any real conviction.

"So should you."

You countered effortlessly, crossing your arms with a tired yet playful grin.

Stanford exhaled through his nose, his free hand rubbing at his temple, already resigning himself to the inevitable. He knew you well enough by now to recognize when you weren’t going to leave him alone— not until you got what you wanted.

And, as much as he loathed to admit it, he never really wanted you to leave in the first place.

You gave him a sheepish, almost apologetic smile, lingering in the doorway, shifting your weight slightly from one foot to the other.

"Couldn't sleep?"

He asked, trying to rationalize your sudden visit. He knew you meant well— everything you did, everything you were, always seemed to center around a quiet, unwavering concern for him. Ford just found himself too tired to appreciate it in the moment.

Because he didn’t want to sleep.

"Something like that."

You hesitated, glancing at him before meekly adding.

"Would you mind some company?"

His first instinct was to refuse— not out of dislike, but habit. This was his space, his domain of absolute concentration and solitude, the one place in the world that had always been his and his alone.

And yet—

As he watched you fidget in the dim glow of the lab’s lighting, eyes flickering with quiet vulnerability, that well-worn reflex… softened. Dissolved.

Something warm spread through his chest, slow and unbidden.

Ford cleared his throat, slightly flustered, but beckoned you inside with a quiet gesture of his hand.

"You’re always welcome, (Y/N)."

His voice was quiet, sincere, imbued with an honesty that had your lips curling into a smile— a smile that softened the tension in your shoulders as you stepped forward. As the space between you closed, his heart betrayed him, picking up its pace in his chest. He was helpless to ignore the way his body adjusted instinctively— not retreating, not guarding itself, but making room for you.

Not away from him, but into his personal orbit.

The air shifted, charged with something unspoken, something warm. He noticed the way your gaze softened, studying him with a concern he wasn’t sure how to handle.

Before he could think of what to say, you moved— carefully perching yourself on the edge of his desk, like you belonged there. And at this point, you did.

A gentle silence settled between you both as your eyes flickered toward the window, watching the soft streaks of rain slide against the glass. The muted rhythm was hypnotic, lulling the lab into a peaceful hush, a quiet stillness neither of you felt the need to break.

Yet, despite the comfort of silence, Stanford found himself subtly observing you from where he sat. How the dim lighting of the lab softened your features, painting you in hues of gold and shadow. How your fingers lightly tapped an absentminded rhythm against the table’s edge, mirroring the raindrops above. How your presence alone seemed to quiet the restlessness he hadn’t even realized had taken root in him.

You liked his space just as much as he did.

You carried a peacefulness with you, something intangible, something steady. And somehow, without ever trying, you had brought that same quiet comfort into his sanctuary of worn notes and half-finished projects.

Your place at his worktable had become as natural as the endless stack of empty coffee mugs that littered it.

"You work too hard, Ford."

It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t even a reprimand. It was simply… true.

He exhaled a soft chuckle, adjusting his glasses with a sheepish expression.

He had no argument.

With a resigned sigh, Ford ran a hand through his silver locks before leaning back slightly in his chair, finally turning to fully face you.

"Perhaps."

He conceded, voice low, contemplative.

His eyes flickered toward his scattered notes, a quiet war waging in his mind.

"But science isn’t going to innovate itself…"

"And you won’t innovate anything if you collapse."

Your counter was effortless, lighthearted but firm, your gaze gentle as it searched his features. Concern wove itself into your voice, threading through every syllable like a quiet plea.

"You should rest too, you know?"

Stanford couldn’t quite hold your gaze for long at that, something raw and unfamiliar settling in his chest. Vulnerability was not something he had ever been good at, least of all when it came to himself. Instead, his eyes flickered downward, his six-fingered hands clasping together on his lap, fingers tightening as he quietly processed your words.

You always had far too much power over him.

The silence stretched, lingering, not uncomfortable but heavy with something unspoken. Outside, the rain tapped gently against the window, steady and rhythmic, weaving itself into the quiet hush of the lab.

A sanctuary.

A place that had once been built for solitude now felt warmer with you here. More… alive.

And that was dangerous.

Because when had this started happening? When had you become the thing he looked forward to most? When had your presence become more enticing than his own research?

Ford was a man of science. A man of logic, of reason. He was meticulous, disciplined, driven by the pursuit of knowledge, not… this.

Not achingly aware of how close your hand was to his on the desk. Not stealing glances at the way the lamplight caught in your eyes. Not memorizing the soft rhythm of your breathing and how, somehow, it had synced so effortlessly with his own.

The realization unnerved him.

He needed to do something. Say something. Anything to break the spell you had him under.

But before he could, you moved first.

Your hand, slow and deliberate, reached for his.

Ford froze. Completely. Utterly.

And then, you laced your fingers through his.

A simple gesture. Innocent.

But it wrecked him.

Stanford Pines had faced interdimensional horrors, eldritch beings, the very fabric of reality unraveling before his eyes— And nothing— nothing— had ever unraveled him the way you just did.

His heart slammed against his ribs, hammering out a frantic, uncontrollable rhythm. His mind, usually sharp, usually relentless in its calculations, flatlined.

"(Y/N)…"

He started, but his voice— his steady, controlled voice— wavered in ways it shouldn’t.

You just smiled. So effortlessly, so carelessly, like you weren’t sending him spiraling into full-blown catastrophe.

"Come to bed."

You murmured, soft and quiet and wholly devastating.

A request. An invitation. A trap.

Ford swallowed thickly.

"I—"

And then your thumb brushed against his knuckles.

His brain short-circuited.

He lost.

Just like that, you had him wrapped around your finger.

"…Just for tonight."

He relented, voice hoarse. Your smile brightened at that, something radiant blooming across your features, and Ford barely had time to steel himself before you gently pulled him up with you.

The shift was effortless. Natural.

Ford barely registered standing, barely registered how your hand fit so perfectly in his own. It felt right. It felt dangerously right.

The simple gesture was somehow overwhelmingly tender, and for a moment, he found himself frozen— before he carefully, almost reverently, squeezed your hand in return.

His pulse stuttered when you squeezed back.

And as you guided him gently from the lab, the rain continued to murmur softly overhead, its gentle lullaby carrying you both toward a place where, at least for tonight, work and worry could wait.

And Ford…

Ford was helpless against it.

Because in these quiet moments, he realized— with striking, undeniable clarity—

That he’d gladly trade a thousand nights alone in his lab for a single evening with you.

[pinkpigtailsprincess]

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖ Summer Glow up: creating new habits 🎀⭐️ *࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ!

Hi Dolls!! Welcome Back 2 Dollies 2 Months of Summer Glow Up !! 🎀⭐️ Today im gonna talk all about implementing brand new habits in my life !!

> Hobbies !! 🎀

> Academics !! 📒

> Beauty Care !! 🧖‍♀️

> Scheduling !! ☀️

> Taking Baby Steps !! 🛼

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Hobbies!! 🎀

…: This Summer I Plan on Taking up Some brand New Hobbies to keep my self busy and learn about brand new things bc everyday is useful!! and so i can use my time more wisely some hobbies i have in mind are…

- Yoga

- Painting

- Creative Writing

- Learning Japanese + Spanish

- Reading

- Puzzles!

- Blogging

- Learning To Code

- Doll Collecting

- Book Collecting

- Sewing + Crocheting

- Digital Art

- Piano

and obvii im already a blogger but i still added it anyways i will watching videos on how to get into these hobbies and videos on learning Spanish and more Japanese, also fun fact i’ve actually been studying Japanese sine 2021 but i stopped bc it got to hard but im starting back up!! anyways, after i watch the videos im gonna set up a financial list bc i have the fund all of these but its okay bc i can easily get money!! 🎀

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Academics !! 🎀

More Goals of mine are to raise my grades in an academic space bc i do have decent grades but i wanna aim higher and have PERFECT Grades so in turn that means i must study more and have more discipline and not so irresponsible with my time!! and i also wanna study subjects outside of school bc its always good to learn something new!! now for learning tips so far i have..

- Flash Cards

- Practice Methods

- Teaching Someone Else

- Trying to explain it to a 5 yr old

- Study a Week Before

- watch ted talks on topics

- SLEEP

- write out notes

Now i Also Have a list of subjects i want to learn about!!

- drawing facial expressions + bodies

- Sewing Stiches + How to Hem and Crochet

- How 2 Draw Bodies + Poses

- Full Anatomy 4 Both Genders

- Japanese + Spanish + French + ASL

- Color Theory

- Learning Cursive + Improving Handwriting

- Expanding Vocabulary

- Religious Cults

- Case and Law

- Poison and Toxicology

- Astronomy

- Medical Surgical Instruments

- Matriarchal Societies

- Socialism Societies

Now i definitely won’t be able to do all of this all at once bc it would definitely we too stressful so im gonna choose as least 2-3 to start with and study them and just learn! 🎀🧁

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Beauty Care !! 🐬

📧: Now I already have my regular beauty care regime skin,hair,eyebrows,eyelashes etc. but im also more focused on getting weekly treatments & weekly beauty care habits like…

- Nails

- Hair

- Eyelashes

- Face Mask

- Hand + Foot Mask

And i wanna try and find people in my city that can do this especially for nails bc i would go to the nail salon but i feel like they won’t be able to do it exactly how i want it to be !!!

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Scheduling !! ⭐️

Now That im gonna be so busy i need to make sure i also stay organized with my time so it doesn’t lead to stress so ill have my regular school classes on my regular schedule then making dedicated hours to studying Things i wanna learn about + Language Learning!

My Workouts are always early morning before school in the evening hours before i got to bed so i won’t have to worry about that affecting my academics. With my Hobbies i feel like only some of them really need scheduling so ill also make time dedicated to those as well !!!!

Beauty Maintenance will probably always be on weekends for the stuff that weekly/bi weekly like face masks,manipedis,hair etc!!

and last but definitely not least!!

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Taking Baby Steps !! ⭐️

This whole process is still all new too me so i’ll definitely only be doing a little at a time and working my way up and i get more familiar with the change in my daily life and i won’t pressure my self to complete everything extremely quickly and just take my time with everything! bye bye dolls tysm 4 keeping up with me while doing this kisses 4 all of u!!! 🎀⭐️

[liiiiianne]

I made headcannons of how I think these pjm characters writes & takes note cuz we love (over)analyzing over here🥰

●Amaya:

•has 2 handwritings

•she's one of those people who takes messy notes at first then rewrites them all pretty

•uses alot of graphic organizers

●Connor:

•kinda messy & fast (obviously)

•only ever uses the bullet method when taking notes

•doodles on the page alot

●Greg:

•uses the bullet or boxing method

•kind of embarrassed about his handwriting cuz it's not neat

•draws lizards all over the page cuz he just loves them

●Romeo:

•mixes regular and cursive together

•an absolute God at note taking but never let's anyone borrow them

•digitizes his notes after writing them

●Octobella:

•uses the mapping method

•takes stunning notes but only on the subjects she likes

•mainly uses cursive and has a bunch of glittery gel pens

●Pharaoh:

•really good handwriting but doesn't use cursive

•uses the rapid logging method

•his notebook looks like it belongs in a museum (probably because it does)

●Carly:

•messy handwriting. Sometimes when u read her notes u can't tell the difference between the n and h or the f and t

•uses the bullet method & flow notes

•her notes are actually really effective if you can understand them

●Cartoka:

•likes writing & typing, he finds it relaxing

•uses the mapping method and flow notes

•digitizes his notes after writing them and always makes flash cards

●Lilyfay:

•loopy handwriting. And sometimes mixes in writing from other alien languages, forgetting that her friends can't read that

•uses every single note taking method somehow

•70% of the time when people borrow her notes they can't understand them

[starshine-selfships]

I love my bug boy.....

Doing something silly for ant-iversary coming up this Friday and. Oh I need to be so sappy..

[bullet-prooflove]

Old School: Richie Jerimovich x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lostinwonderland314 @fallout-girl219 @wabi-sabi1090 @Princesssunderworld

Companion piece to:

One Night Stand (NSFW) - It was never meant to be more than a one night stand.

Safe With You - Richie still has nightmares about how he found Michael.

Joy - The stabbing leads Richie to confront some of the doubts he has about himself.

All The Good Ones Are (NSFW) - Richie has never thought of himself as one of the good ones.

Gift (NSFW) - Richie has always thought of you as a gift.

The first time Richie finds one of your love notes in the pocket of his jacket, he feels the flush creep up his cheeks because it can’t be for him, it just can’t. A man like him doesn’t get this lucky, he doesn’t end up with a woman that commits her feelings to paper for the whole world to see. He checks the envelope again but it’s definitely his name on the front, written in your neat cursive writing.

You’re out of town for a couple of days, over in New York to hammer out a contract for one of the authors you work with. You try to play it off as nothing but Richie knows it’s a big deal. He’s fiercely proud of your accomplishments, of the career you’ve managed to carve out for yourself in the aftermath of your divorce.

He smiles as he reads the letter, it’s only a few lines but it makes him feel like he’s walking on air because you know Richie’s old school, that he comes from the era where you make mixed tapes for the girl you like.

An actual written form of communication shows care and attention, it means thought was put into those words, it creates a connection between the writer and the reader. You want him to have that whilst you’re away, you want him to know that you’ll be missing him just as much as he’ll be missing you, despite the fact it’s early days between the two of you.

It's when you get back from your trip that you find an envelope tucked inside your mail box. It’s written in Richie’s block capitals with your name and a heart drawn next to it. You start to laugh when you open it because there’s a CD residing inside with the words ‘Richie and Joy’s Mixed Tape’ written in Sharpie on the disk. You put it on the moment you step inside the house and the sounds of ‘Ain’t No Sunshine’ begin to filter through the speakers.

It moves you to hear that song, because in that moment  you know exactly how Richie’s feeling. You may express your emotions through words but Richie’s method is music and this song it tells you everything you need to know.

Richie Jerimovich is in love with you, and it just so happens you’re in love with him too.

Love Richie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[thecolterparable]

wanted to point out here the similarities and differences between dutch and arthurs journals and how it reflects the set hierarchy between the two characters.

mayhaps I'm looking into this too much, this could EASILY be the case of preference... but I find the small details ;)

the two share the handwriting style: cursive. it's expected as cursive was a common handwriting technique in the 19th century.

cursive was used because it was a faster method and speed was prioritized over legibility. private conversations were more efficient if the words were harder to decipher, and so on so forth.

I've left a link to a reddit post with different letters, so feel free to check those out!

but in the context of rdr2?

the gang all write under the name "tacitus kilgore" to the post office and to make it harder to track the fake alias down, it wouldn't surprise me if dutch and hosea taught arthur and john to write similarly. (I'd assume that's the case because mary's letters are picked up by other members of the gang and a dialogue I vaguely remember in the new south(?) about the name... uhh)

arthurs penmanship is bigger than dutch's with a slight slant to it too. he spends his solitude in solace with a journal, and it's likely that the bigger handwriting just means he's not as interested in writing than he is drawing. the penmanship is perfect for captioning his sketches too, frankly enough...

but dutch's? a different case. his journal has lines, indexing them much like his own makeshift book (like the philosophy books he has, such can be found and read in horseshoe overlook) he's crafted. he's had the time to individualise those entries, order them out and make sure those words of his are strong.

he has the time to breathe and think it through. LITERALLY.

annoyingly enough I cannot for the life of me decipher the text... if anyone HAS, FEEL FREE TO MESSAGE!

arthurs more creative, yet runs on wasted time. similar to his position in the gang and how he operates.

dutch is more conforming, caved in by the walls he creates. again, it's similar to how he leads and the demise of his fate.

[millionsknives]

tristamp liveblog: the finale [part 1/part 2]

episode 10:

love that cryosleep and interstellar travel and fully bulletproof functional prosthetics exist in this world but vash still uses wired earphones

the july design RIPPPPSSSSS the way the spaceship is cracked in half and the center is suspended above the desert. the sino-cyberpunk design choice is interesting though. does that mean orange will reuse similar elements for dragon's nest? or would they scrap the chinese elements of dragon's nest to avoid reusing an aesthetic?

even though i KNOW it's coming the sneeze always makes me laugh so hard. there's no build-up, vash doesn't even inhale it's just 'CHEUAH' 'YOU DIPSHIT'

wolfwood grabs vash's waist after he gets shot. my live slug reaction.. i'm not gonna say it's ooc, but it is highly unusual

'hanging around you is gonna get me killed' WOLFWOOD. CEASE.

i do NOT remember conrad's experiment babies looking like that. what in the legend of zelda they're so ugly

huge world tree/tree of life symbol on nai's piano room floor that i did not notice before

elendira i'm so sorry they did all that to you girl... everything about her is the worst adaptational decision orange made. the heterochromia and fangs are fun though

there's these ugly vine-themed lamps on conrad's desk. who is doing y'all's interior design i think you should fire them

wolfwood's signature is so uneven with unnecessary flourishes, that is clearly the signature of a child who barely knows cursive

the eye in nai's hand. did he just grab tessla's eye out of the tank and absorb it

knives is constantly telling vash what vash's own motives are. you don't love humans, you just want to atone for the crash. you don't save humans because you love them, you do it because you're lonely and you want their admiration. it's so gaslighty, i love it. he refuses to believe vash could actually love humans. and if he sows enough seeds of doubt in vash's mind, maybe vash will stop these disordered affections and go back to loving him and their sisters only. it's such a fun writing choice that's a step beyond what he does in the manga - usually in trimax he's telling vash that his beliefs and methods are stupid, but he doesn't cross that line into gaslighting vash about vash's own intentions. because that wouldn't work on trimax vash! he's a lot more sure in who he is and he would call knives a dumbass for presuming his intentions. tristamp vash lacks that internal strength at this point in his arc, so it's a little more effective on him. he still seems so deferent to knives and isn't really ready to take a hard stand against him until episode 12.

this episode feels weak and i cannot figure out why. it's not unnecessary or irrelevant, major important plot things are happening in it, roberto effing dies. but it feels like easily the weakest episode after 1 & 2 (maybe it's just the colossal elendira L)

[marinersapartmentc0mplex]

Never Let Me Go

(Damian Wayne x Journalist!OFC)

Chapter Four: What Was I Made For?

Ao3 Link & Previous Chapter

The care home buzzed with its usual evening chaos, a mixture of laughter, arguments, and the occasional thud of something falling over. The noise spilled into every room, making it impossible to ignore. Elena stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and hands covered in flour as she prepared the meal that had been left entirely to her. Laura was in her office on one of her marathon phone calls, the kind that stretched for hours, and Andrew had gone to a doctor’s appointment, leaving the house—and the dozen or so kids who lived there—in her hands.

Elena pulled the oven door open, the blast of heat stinging her face as she slid the neatly layered lasagne onto the middle rack. She had spent the last thirty minutes putting it together—spreading each layer with just enough sauce, sprinkling cheese evenly, and making sure the top was perfect, with a balance of grated mozzarella and tiny pinches of parsley. She closed the oven door with a soft thud and twisted the timer knob to forty-five minutes.

On the counter, the bread she’d prepared earlier sat ready to go: halved baguettes spread generously with her garlic butter mixture. She reached for the foil, wrapping each piece with methodical precision. Everything was moving along smoothly, but the noise coming from the living room was a reminder that the rest of the house was not.

“Give it back, Toby!”

“It’s mine!”

Elena braced her hands on the counter, her fingertips pressing into the edge of the laminate surface. She inhaled slowly through her nose, staring down at the clutter of utensils and bowls she hadn’t yet washed. The spoon she’d used to stir the sauce sat in the sink, a smudge of red on the handle. The cutting board was still dusted with a fine layer of flour from when she’d worked the pasta sheets into shape, and the grater lay discarded next to the empty mozzarella package. She hated leaving things messy, but there was no time to clean up now.

The yelling got louder, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

“Not my problem,” she muttered under her breath, though she already knew she’d have to deal with it eventually.

She turned back to the bread, sliding it onto a baking tray and setting it on the counter. Her hands paused for a moment, gripping the tray as her mind wandered—pulled, unbidden, to a kitchen far from this one.

Long Island.

The house had been so different from anything she’d ever known. It was big, with dark wood floors that gleamed under the light spilling through oversized windows. The kitchen had been enormous, more like something out of a cooking show than a home. There was a long island in the center, with polished granite counters and stools tucked neatly under the edge. Shelves lined one wall, filled with glass jars of spices, their labels written in neat cursive. The air had always smelled warm—cinnamon, cloves, something freshly baked or simmering on the stove.

She’d been eleven when she stayed there, awkward and quiet, still unsure how to exist in someone else’s home without feeling like she was taking up too much space. Peter and Melissa had been her foster parents briefly, though their real passion was food. They were chefs—or at least, they were trying to be. Most of their time was spent working on their dream restaurant, testing recipes, making business calls, and arguing about suppliers.

“Elena, can you taste this for me?” Melissa had asked one afternoon, holding out a spoon. She was standing by the stove, her blonde hair tied back in a messy bun, a smudge of flour on her cheek.

Elena had hopped off the stool and approached hesitantly, always careful not to disturb anything in that perfect kitchen. She tasted the sauce—a rich, velvety tomato base with hints of garlic and basil—and nodded. “It’s good,” she’d said quietly.

Melissa had smiled. “What does it need?”

“Um… maybe a little salt?”

“Exactly.” Melissa’s eyes had lit up, like Elena had just passed some unspoken test. “See? You’ve got a chef’s instincts already.”

It had been a rare moment of attention in a house where most of her time was spent sitting off to the side, watching. Peter and Melissa were always busy, their conversations swirling around her like background noise. “We need to finalize the wine list.” “What about hardwood chairs instead of metal?” “Is salmon too risky for the menu, or do we want something bold?” Elena had sat at the counter with an old cookbook they’d handed her, flipping through pages without really reading, her fingers trailing over the glossy pictures of food she didn’t know how to make.

She learned by watching them, though. The way Melissa pinched fresh herbs between her fingers before sprinkling them over a dish, or how Peter grated Parmesan so finely it practically melted into the sauce. She picked up small things—how a squeeze of lemon could brighten a soup, or how butter could be browned to bring out its nuttiness.

But they were always so focused on the restaurant. The kitchen wasn’t hers—it was their space, their project, their world.

And then, just before the restaurant was set to open, they sat her down for dinner. The dinner had been beautiful, as it always was. A perfectly seared piece of salmon, its crisp skin glistening under the warm light of the chandelier above the dining table. The potatoes were golden and crispy on the outside, soft and fluffy within, seasoned just enough to taste rich without being overpowering. The asparagus was tender, drizzled with just a touch of lemon butter that pooled gently at the edge of her plate.

Elena had been sitting at the table, a napkin folded neatly in her lap, her fork resting beside her untouched food. The table had been set with care, as though it were another rehearsal for the restaurant—matching plates, polished cutlery, and wine glasses filled with sparkling water that fizzed quietly in the silence. Melissa and Peter had taken their usual seats across from her, smiling, but there was a stiffness to their expressions. Melissa’s smile, warm and welcoming on most days, had faltered, becoming something brittle and forced.

She should have known then. Maybe she had, somewhere deep down.

“Elena, we need to talk,” Peter had said, breaking the quiet. His voice was calm, even kind, but that didn’t matter. The words hit her chest like a weight, and the food she hadn’t touched turned to stone in her stomach.

Melissa leaned forward slightly, her hands folded on the table. “You’re wonderful,” she began, her voice soft but rehearsed. “But we’ve realized we don’t have the time to give you what you need. With the restaurant opening soon…”

The rest of the words blurred. Elena could feel her pulse in her ears, the sound of it drowning out Melissa’s carefully measured tone. She didn’t need to hear the specifics to understand what they were saying. She’d heard versions of it before, over and over again, from different people who had all promised, at some point, that they wouldn’t leave.

It’s not you. We’re just too busy. You’ll be better off somewhere else.

Her hands had tightened around the edges of her napkin, twisting it in her lap as the reality of it settled in her chest like lead. She didn’t cry—she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry—but her throat burned with the effort of holding it back.

When Melissa’s voice faltered into silence, the room felt impossibly loud. The faint hum of the refrigerator, the clink of Peter’s fork against his plate as he pushed his food around, the soft fizz of the water in her glass—it all pressed against her like a wall of noise she couldn’t escape.

“Elena,” Melissa said again, her voice gentler now, as though that would somehow make it easier. “This isn’t about you. You’ve been wonderful.”

Elena had nodded, though she didn’t trust herself to speak. Wonderful. If she was so wonderful, why were they sending her back?

She didn’t touch her dinner. Instead, she watched Melissa pack her clothes into a black garbage bag later that night, her hands moving quickly, efficiently, like she was rushing to get it over with. Elena had stood frozen in the doorway, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as Melissa zipped the bag closed and set it by the door with the same neutral expression she wore while plating a dish.

Her stomach had ached with the weight of it all—how easily they could discard her, how little her presence seemed to matter.

“Too needy,” they’d told her social worker later, probably thinking she couldn’t hear. 

The drive back to Gotham had been quiet except for her crying, her face pressed against her palms. Her social worker had sighed heavily, muttering something about how she needed to “toughen up” before handing her a tissue that smelled like hand sanitizer.

“Elena!”

Her name snapped her back to the present. She blinked, realizing her hands were still gripping the edges of the baking tray. Gavin was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression stormy.

“What now?” she asked, already dreading the answer.

“Toby won’t give me my controller!��� Gavin stormed into the kitchen, arms crossed, his tone full of the same indignation he used every time he wanted to win an argument by sheer volume.

Elena paused, her hand gripping the edge of the baking tray she’d been about to slide into the oven. She set it down carefully, her movements deliberate, and turned to face him. Her patience, already worn thin by the noise and chaos of the evening, snapped.

“Seriously, Gavin?” she said, her voice low and sharp. “You’re almost eighteen. You’re about to leave the system in a few months. Don’t you think it’s time you started acting like it?”

Gavin blinked, caught off guard by Elena’s rare outburst, but she didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“You think the world’s going to care if Toby won’t give you your stupid controller? You think anyone’s going to stop and listen to you complain about how unfair life is when you’re on your own?” Her words were hard, cutting, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Grow up. Because if you don’t, life’s going to hit you harder than anything I could ever say, and no one’s going to be there to pick up the pieces.”

He glared at her, his face flushing with anger, but there was something else there too—embarrassment, maybe, or the sting of being told something he didn’t want to hear. “Whatever,” he muttered, turning on his heel and stomping back toward the living room.

Elena exhaled, glancing at the clock. Fifteen minutes left on the lasagna. She grabbed a cloth from the sink and wiped down the counter, her movements brisk and precise. The kids would need her again soon, and the timer would go off before she knew it.

This wasn’t Long Island. There was no perfect kitchen here, no quiet evenings spent tasting sauces and learning the art of presentation. But there was dinner in the oven. And that would have to be enough.

“Elena!” Libby’s shrill voice cut through the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of something crashing to the floor in the living room.

“What now?” Elena muttered under her breath, wiping her hands on her apron before poking her head out of the kitchen.

In the middle of the living room, Libby was pointing accusingly at Harley, who was holding the remnants of a board game that now lay scattered across the floor.

“He ruined it!” Libby shrieked, her face red with fury.

“I didn’t ruin it!” Harley shot back. “You left it open, and it fell!”

“Harley,” Elena said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “Pick it up. Now.”

“But—”

“Now,” Elena repeated, narrowing her eyes. Harley groaned but dropped to his knees, grumbling under his breath as he began collecting the pieces.

As Harley grumbled and scooped up the scattered game pieces, Elena turned back into the kitchen.She pulled open a cabinet and grabbed a stack of plates, setting them down on the counter with a little more force than necessary. Each plate was chipped in some way, faint gray cracks spiderwebbing through their surfaces. She had scrubbed them so many times by now that she could remember the pattern of every flaw.

Elena moved with the efficiency of someone who had done this too many times to count. She took out forks, knives, and glasses from their respective drawers, stacking them with care. She knew none of it would be appreciated. She could set the table perfectly, make sure everyone got a portion that suited their appetite, and still hear nothing more than the scrape of chairs and the sound of people eating too fast.

She checked on the garlic bread, carefully pulling it from the oven to peek under the foil. The golden-brown tops looked perfect, glistening from the butter she had spread over them earlier. She placed the tray back in the oven and turned her attention to the lasagna. It wasn’t bubbling yet, but the cheese on top was starting to melt and turn the right shade of golden.

“Elena! Libby hit me!” Toby’s voice was loud enough to make her wince, and she set the oven mitts down with a sharp exhale.

She stepped into the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron as she glanced at the scene unfolding in the living room. Libby was sitting on the couch with her arms crossed, glaring at Toby, who was rubbing his arm dramatically as if he’d been gravely injured.

“She barely touched you,” Elena said flatly, crossing her arms.

“She did it on purpose!” Toby insisted, shooting a wounded look her way.

“I don’t have time for this,” Elena replied, her tone clipped. “You’re both sitting at the table in five minutes, or I’m turning the Wi-Fi off for the night. Try me.”

That was enough to get them to quiet down—at least for the moment. She turned back into the kitchen, already feeling the familiar exhaustion settling in her bones. What the hell has gotten into them today?

The timer dinged, and she grabbed the oven mitts again, carefully pulling the lasagna out. The smell was heavenly—cheese, garlic, tomato, and oregano filling the kitchen in a way that almost made her forget the chaos outside. She slid the garlic bread tray out next, stacking it neatly on a plate, and set everything on the counter to cool.

With a deep breath, she grabbed a knife and began slicing the lasagna into even squares, the cheese stretching in long, gooey strings with every cut. She plated each portion carefully, setting them down on the plates she’d arranged earlier, before grabbing the bread and dividing it evenly.

“Dinner’s ready!” she called, louder this time to cut through the noise.

Chairs scraped against the floor as the kids dragged themselves to the table, muttering and shoving each other as they took their seats. Elena brought the plates out one by one, setting them down in front of each child. No one said anything as she worked—no thank-yous, no acknowledgment of the effort she’d put into making sure everything was just right.

By the time she sat down with her own plate, the lasagne was already halfway gone. Gavin was shoveling it into his mouth like it was a race, and Libby was picking the cheese off her bread, dropping crumbs everywhere. Toby slurped his juice loudly, leaving a sticky trail on the table from the cup he’d knocked over earlier but hadn’t bothered to clean up.

“Can you pass the bread?” Harley asked, reaching across the table without waiting for a response. His arm knocked over the salt shaker, sending a small pile spilling onto the table.

“Watch it!” Libby snapped, glaring at him.

“Clean that up,” Elena said automatically, though she didn’t expect him to. She sighed as she watched him ignore her, pulling a napkin from the dispenser herself and wiping up the salt.

When dinner was over, the kids filed away from the table like clockwork, abandoning their plates where they’d left them.

“Someone help with the dishes!” Elena called after them, her voice edged with frustration.

No one even turned around. Gavin disappeared up the stairs without a word, and Libby was already curled up on the couch, scrolling on her phone. Harley and Toby were arguing over what show to put on, the sound of the TV drowning out any chance of further protests.

Elena stared at the table, still covered in crumbs, smeared sauce, and abandoned dishes. She looked at her own plate, still half full, and pushed it away. Her appetite was gone.

Rolling her sleeves up, she moved to the sink and started rinsing the plates one by one, her hands moving on autopilot. The warm water and suds were soothing in a distant way, but they didn’t dull the knot in her chest. She scrubbed the stubborn bits of cheese off the casserole dish, dried it, and placed it back in the cabinet where it belonged.

By the time the kitchen was clean again, her back ached and her feet throbbed, but the house was no quieter. She leaned against the counter for a moment, staring out the small window above the sink. It was dark outside now, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement.

She wiped her hands on a towel and turned off the light in the kitchen, leaving the room spotless once again. It wasn’t gratitude she wanted—she didn’t expect that anymore—but some part of her still hoped for it.

Instead, she stepped into the living room to find Toby’s lasagna plate balancing precariously on the edge of the coffee table, a smear of red sauce staining the carpet below.

Of course.

The house was finally starting to quiet down, though it still hummed with the faint, ever-present sounds of its dozen inhabitants. The TV in the living room was turned down low now, voices muffled by walls and closed doors. Elena stood in the kitchen doorway for a moment, surveying the spotless counters and neatly stacked dishes. Her hands were red and slightly dry from the dish soap, and there was a dull, persistent throb at her temples that made her wince when she moved too fast.

She was wiping her hands on a dish towel when Laura stepped out of her office, looking as though she’d just woken up from a long nap despite having been on the phone for hours. Her blouse was rumpled, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she had a clipboard tucked under one arm.

“Elena,” Laura said, stopping short when she saw her standing in the kitchen. “Did everyone eat?”

“They ate,” Elena replied, her voice quieter than she intended. She tossed the dish towel onto the counter and turned to face Laura fully. “I saved you a plate. It’s in the fridge.”

“Oh, thanks,” Laura said with a faint smile, already glancing down at her phone screen to check the time. “I didn’t realize it was this late. I’ll grab it later.”

Elena nodded, too tired to say anything else. Laura lingered for a moment, as though she might say something more, but then turned and headed toward the living room, her focus already elsewhere.

Elena took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. Her legs felt heavy, each step making her more aware of the dull ache in her lower back. She could hear faint whispers and muffled laughter coming from behind closed doors as she passed, the remnants of the chaos earlier now reduced to hushed conversations.

Her room was at the end of the hall, the one she shared with Libby. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, her shoulders sagging as she shut it behind her. The small space was tidy, though cramped. Two twin beds were crammed against opposite walls, their mismatched blankets pulled tight. Libby’s side of the room was strewn with bits of clothing and the occasional paperback novel, but Elena’s was meticulously organized.

She dropped her bag onto the desk by the window and sat down heavily, letting her head rest in her hands for a moment. The light from the desk lamp was warm and soft, but it still made her migraine throb faintly in protest. 

Elena only worked halfway through her math homework before dragging herself to the bathroom to brush her teeth, crawling into her warm bed with a sigh.

The hall was buzzing with muted conversations, the kind where words were carefully chosen and delivered with polished smiles. The Ivy League mixer was everything Elena expected it to be: intimidating, ostentatious, and overwhelmingly filled with people who looked like they belonged. The grand ballroom of Gotham Academy had been transformed for the occasion, with glittering chandeliers casting a golden glow over clusters of students and representatives from prestigious universities.

Long tables draped in deep green and navy cloths flanked the walls, each bearing the insignia of an elite institution. Pamphlets and brochures were fanned out in meticulous displays, their glossy covers promising futures as bright as the overhead lighting. A soft hum of classical music played in the background, barely audible over the chatter, and the air was filled with the faint scent of lilies arranged in towering crystal vases on every table. Elena felt the weight of it all—the grandeur, the expectation, the quiet but palpable judgment lingering in every corner of the room.

Elena spotted Lila lingering near a stand decorated with the Yale crest, her perfectly blown out blond hair catching the light. She was half-heartedly flicking through a brochure, her brows furrowed in a way that signalled frustration more than curiosity. Elena made her way over, weaving through the crowd and dodging the occasional elbow from an enthusiastic parent.

“Looking for your dream school?” Elena asked as she reached her side.

Lila let out a dramatic sigh, dropping the brochure back onto the table. “If by ‘dream school’ you mean the place my mother dreams of me attending, then sure, I guess.”

Elena arched an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“You have no idea.” Lila looped her arm through Elena’s, steering them toward the far side of the room where the crowd thinned out. Rows of booths stretched before them, each one manned by sharply dressed representatives eager to extol the virtues of their institution.

As they passed the Princeton table, where a trio of students were enthusiastically chatting with a prospective applicant, Lila grabbed a glossy pamphlet from the corner. She glanced at it for a moment before crumpling it into her hand and tossing it into a nearby trash can.

“My mother thinks I should be studying pre-med right now,” Lila said, her tone bitter. “You know, shadowing doctors, memorizing anatomy, practicing my bedside manner. Instead, I spent the last three months organizing wardrobes for Elle Gotham and learning the difference between tulle and organza.”

Elena blinked. “You interned at Elle Gotham ? How did I not know this?”

“Because it’s a secret,” Lila hissed, shooting her a meaningful look. “Mom thinks I’ve been at Gotham Presbyterian, fetching coffee for surgeons and learning how to fold hospital corners. Which, by the way, I did for about two weeks before I faked a scheduling conflict and started interning at Elle instead.”

Elena bit back a laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish.” Lila reached for another flier as they passed the Columbia table, though she didn’t seem to be reading it. “Do you know how many times I had to sneak out of the house in scrubs just to keep up the lie? If she finds out, she’ll kill me. And by kill me, I mean probably stage a public intervention at a board meeting with all her dermatologist friends.”

Elena smirked, plucking a flier off a nearby table and pretending to read it. “You realize this is a little insane, right?”

“It’s Gotham. Everyone’s insane.” Lila tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “She doesn’t get it, Elena. Medicine is her world, not mine. She’s obsessed with this idea of me ‘carrying on the legacy.’ Like I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life handing out Botox to aging celebrities.”

“Does she even know you’re into fashion?” Elena asked, glancing at Lila sideways.

“She knows I ‘like clothes,’” Lila said with a sarcastic twist of her lips. “But that’s about as far as it goes. In her mind, fashion isn’t a career—it’s a phase. Like glitter nail polish or boy bands.”

Lila paused mid-rant, her eyes narrowing as she stepped back slightly, giving Elena a once-over. Her gaze lingered on the soft yellow dress that hugged Elena’s frame, its simple yet elegant cut accentuating her shoulders and flowing gracefully to just below her knees. The color seemed to glow under the golden light of the chandeliers, making her look radiant in a way that caught even Lila off guard.

“Wait a second,” Lila said, pointing at her. “Is that...?”

Elena frowned. “Is that what?”

“The dress!” Lila exclaimed, a mix of shock and delight spreading across her face. “That’s my dress! The one I made for you last spring! I completely forgot about it. Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing it.”

Elena looked down at herself, tugging at the hem self-consciously. “I needed something decent, and it was just sitting in my closet. I thought... why not?”

Lila’s expression softened as she circled Elena, appraising her handiwork. “It looks amazing on you. The yellow was definitely the right choice—your skin tone pulls it off perfectly. And you paired it with—” She crouched slightly to inspect Elena’s shoes. “Heels. Let me guess—Laura’s?”

Elena nodded sheepishly. “Borrowed them on my way out. Don’t judge me.”

“Judge you?” Lila straightened, a grin tugging at her lips. “I’m proud of you. You look stunning.”

Elena rolled her eyes, though a faint blush crept into her cheeks. “It’s just a dress.”

“It’s my dress,” Lila corrected, linking arms with her again. “And now I feel like I actually accomplished something this summer, even if my mother thinks I spent it learning how to insert IVs.”

They resumed walking, weaving through the booths as Lila continued to gush over the dress, pointing out details Elena hadn’t even noticed—like the subtle stitching at the waist that created the illusion of a cinched silhouette, or the way the fabric swished ever so slightly when she moved.

Elena smiled despite herself. For a moment, the weight of the room—the pressure to impress, to plan her future, to belong—faded into the background. Here, with Lila by her side, talking about dresses and fabric and dreams, everything felt a little more manageable.

They stopped in front of the Parsons table, where a striking display of fashion sketches was arranged beside a row of brochures. Lila’s eyes lit up as she grabbed one, flipping through it eagerly.

“This,” she said, holding up the brochure. “This is what I want. Design, creativity, expression. Not scalpels and latex gloves.”

Elena watched her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Then go for it.”

“I plan to,” Lila said, determination flashing in her eyes. “Even if it kills me—or, more likely, my mom.”

They both laughed, their voices blending with the soft hum of the mixer around them.

Lila stopped mid-sentence, her animated tirade about Parsons and fabric swatches abruptly cut off as her mother’s sharp voice sliced through the air behind them.

“Lila.”

Elena turned to see Dr. Vivienne Harper standing a few paces away, her presence commanding as always. She wore a tailored gray pantsuit that screamed wealth and authority, her auburn hair swept into a sleek chignon. In one manicured hand, she clutched a champagne flute, and in the other, her phone—its screen dark now, but Elena suspected it had been buzzing nonstop moments earlier.

“Mom,” Lila replied, her voice tight with barely concealed annoyance.

Dr. Harper’s gaze flickered briefly to Elena, her expression softening only marginally. “Elena. Nice to see you. That dress suits you.”

“Thank you, Dr. Harper,” Elena said, standing a little straighter.

But Dr. Harper’s focus was back on her daughter almost immediately. “Lila, I’d like you to meet Dr. Bashar. He’s one of Gotham Presbyterian’s leading cardiothoracic surgeons and an alum of Harvard Medical School. I told him all about your summer at the hospital. He’s eager to speak with you about opportunities for shadowing next year.”

Elena’s eyebrows shot up, but Lila’s face went rigid, her lips pressing into a tight line.

“Mom,” Lila started, her voice measured but tense, “now’s really not a great time—”

“This is the perfect time,” Dr. Harper interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. She extended an arm toward a distinguished-looking man standing near the Harvard table, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed and his tailored suit immaculate. He was deep in conversation with another parent, but he glanced in their direction when Dr. Harper waved him over.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Lila muttered to Elena, her tone dripping with frustration as her mother began ushering her away.

Elena gave her a sympathetic smile. “Good luck.”

Lila threw a dramatic look over her shoulder as she disappeared into the crowd, mouthing, Kill me now .

Elena chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she turned back to the tables. She wandered toward a quieter corner of the room, letting the hum of voices fade into the background as she absently skimmed a stack of brochures for Columbia.

“Excuse me—Elena, right?”

The voice caught her off guard. Elena turned to see a girl about her age, her dark curls pulled into a high ponytail. She wore a Yale sweater, and carried a small wad of fliers in her hand. Her smile was warm but sharp, and there was a spark of recognition in her eyes.

“Yes,” Elena said, cautiously.

“I thought so!” the girl exclaimed, stepping closer. “I’m Cara, Cara Dawson. I write for the Yale Daily News —editor of the investigative desk.” She paused, her smile widening. “I read your article on the animal neglect at the Gotham Academy mini-farm. We all did. And let me just say—it was incredible .”

Elena blinked, caught completely off guard. “You... read that?”

“Are you kidding?” Cara asked, her tone incredulous. “We couldn’t stop talking about it for a week. The reporting, the writing, the way you called out the administration—it was so bold. Honestly, we were all jealous we didn’t write it ourselves.”

Elena’s face grew warm, and she shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. “It—it was just something I felt needed to be said. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

Cara tilted her head, giving Elena a look that was equal parts amused and disbelieving. “Not that big of a deal? You exposed corruption and negligence at one of Gotham’s most prestigious schools. You forced them to act. That’s the definition of a big deal.”

Elena shrugged, her eyes darting away. “I mean, it wasn’t perfect. There’s still a lot I could’ve done better.”

“Don’t do that,” Cara said firmly, cutting her off. “Don’t downplay it. What you did was important. And if you’re even half as passionate as your writing suggests, you’d be an amazing fit for Yale’s journalism program.”

Elena’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Yale?”

“Yes!” Cara said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a sleek brochure. She handed it to Elena, her smile bright and genuine. “We need people like you. Investigative journalism is all about guts and persistence, and you clearly have both. If you ever decide to apply, please reach out. I’d love to help you navigate the process—or put in a good word for you with the staff at the Daily News .”

Elena stared at the brochure in her hands, the embossed Yale crest gleaming under the ballroom’s golden light. It felt surreal, like holding something meant for someone else.

Before Elena could respond, Cara gave her a small wave and melted back into the crowd. Elena stood there for a moment, the Yale brochure still clutched in her hands. The fancy crest seemed to stare back at her like a challenge, daring her to imagine a life she wasn’t entirely sure she could afford or fit into

“You’re selling yourself short.”

The voice came from behind her, sharp and familiar. Elena flinched slightly, her head snapping around to find Damian Wayne standing there, his hands in his pockets and his expression as unreadable as ever. He didn’t look impressed—if anything, there was a faint trace of exasperation in the way his gaze lingered on her.

“Seriously?” she said, the corner of her mouth tugging into a small, tired smile. “You’ve been eavesdropping?”

“It’s hard not to when you’re loudly doubting yourself in a room full of people,” Damian replied dryly. “Gold, if you’re going to spend this entire event pretending you don’t belong, why even bother showing up?”

Elena sighed, her fingers brushing the edge of the brochure. “It’s not that I don’t think I belong here,” she muttered. “It’s just... Yale. It’s huge. The kind of place where people who actually know what they’re doing end up.”

“People like you,” Damian said, matter-of-factly.

Elena blinked at him. “Are you... trying to compliment me, or is that just your natural tone?”

“It’s an observation,” he said, shrugging slightly. “That article you wrote wasn’t just decent—it was exceptional. You dug into a problem most adults would’ve ignored, you held people accountable, and you did it all with the looming threat of losing your scholarship.” His tone was calm, almost clinical, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of respect in his words. “You’re capable of more than you give yourself credit for. Stop acting like it’s luck or coincidence.”

Elena stared down at the brochure again, her thumb tracing the edge of the embossed letters. She didn’t want to admit it—not to Cara, not to Damian, and especially not to herself—but there was a small, stubborn flicker of hope kindling in her chest, no matter how hard she tried to smother it.

“Fine,” she said after a long pause, her voice laced with exasperation. “I’ll apply. For the sake of it. Happy now?”

Damian didn’t smile, but there was a slight tilt to his head, as if acknowledging her decision. “It’s a start.”

Elena sighed, tucking the brochure into her bag. “What about you?” she asked, shifting the focus away from herself. “Where are you applying? Or do you have a whole lineup of Ivy Leagues begging for the honor?”

Damian’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I’m keeping my options open.”

“That’s vague, even for you,” Elena replied, arching an eyebrow. “What’s the plan, Wayne? Business? Law? Or are you going straight for a position on the board of Wayne Enterprises?”

Damian’s jaw tightened slightly, though his tone remained even. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Elena tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “You’re not really the indecisive type.”

“It’s not indecision,” Damian said coolly. “It’s strategy. I’m weighing my options.”

Before Elena could respond to Damian’s deflection, the sharp click of heels against the polished floor broke through the surrounding chatter. A woman approached them with an air of quiet confidence, her movements smooth and deliberate, like she was gliding rather than walking. She looked to be in her early fifties, though her sharp features and impeccable style made her seem ageless. Her black hair was pulled into a sleek updo that accentuated her high cheekbones, and her pale skin seemed to glow under the golden light of the chandeliers.

She wore a tailored cream blouse with delicate lace details at the cuffs and collar, tucked into a pair of high-waisted black trousers that flared slightly at the hem. A gold bracelet jingled softly as she extended a manicured hand toward Damian, her rings catching the light and flashing like tiny stars.

“Damian,” she greeted warmly, her voice carrying a faint but distinct Lebanese accent. Her smile was genuine, though there was something practiced about it, as if she had worn it countless times in similar social settings.

Damian stiffened almost imperceptibly, his usual cool demeanor giving way to a flicker of tension. He didn’t move to shake her hand, keeping his own firmly in his pockets. “Amira,” he said flatly, offering her a curt nod instead.

Amira’s smile didn’t waver, though her eyes briefly flicked to his hands before turning to Elena. “And who is this lovely young lady?”

“Elena Gold,” Elena said quickly, stepping forward and extending her hand. Her fingers brushed against Amira’s jewelry as they shook hands, and she noticed how the woman’s grip was firm but not overpowering. “I’m, uh, just a classmate.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Elena,” Amira said, her tone polite but warm. “I’m Amira Farah. I’ve been working on Selina Kyle’s wedding dress—Damian’s stepmother,” she added with a touch of pride, as though revealing an exciting secret.

Damian’s posture went rigid, the shift so subtle that Elena doubted anyone else would have noticed. But standing this close, she could feel the tension radiating off him like a charged wire.

“She’s not my stepmother,” Damian said sharply, his voice cutting through the conversation like a knife.

Amira blinked, her smile faltering ever so slightly. For a split second, she looked genuinely taken aback, though she quickly recovered, smoothing over the moment with practiced ease. “Of course, not yet,” she said lightly, brushing off his tone with a breezy laugh. “But the wedding is such a beautiful occasion, don’t you think? Selina has impeccable taste, naturally, but designing for such a high-profile event has its own unique challenges.”

Damian’s jaw tightened, and his gaze drifted past Amira, fixing on some indistinct point in the distance. His silence was palpable, almost deafening, but Amira either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it entirely.

“The Wayne wedding is going to be the event of the year,” Amira continued, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. Her gold bracelets jingled softly with every movement. “The press coverage alone is overwhelming. And Selina—oh, she’s so particular. It’s wonderful, really. She has such a strong vision. But translating that vision into reality? Quite the process.”

Elena glanced at Damian out of the corner of her eye. His shoulders were tense, his expression locked into that neutral mask he wore when he was actively avoiding emotion. She knew that look—it was the same one he’d had earlier when she asked about his plans for the future, the same one he wore whenever the subject of his family came up.

Amira’s words rolled on, oblivious. “Just last week, we spent hours debating the embroidery pattern on the train. She wanted something bold but understated—a contradiction, I know, but Selina can make it work. We’ve settled on—”

“So,” Elena interrupted, her voice too loud, “is the wedding cake going to have, like... diamonds on it or something?”

The question hung in the air for a beat too long, and Elena immediately regretted opening her mouth. Amira blinked, clearly thrown off, while Damian turned his head sharply toward her, his expression hovering somewhere between disbelief and reluctant amusement.

“I mean,” Elena continued hastily, doubling down, “it’s a Wayne wedding, right? Go big or go home? Maybe edible gold? Is that a thing?”

For a moment, Amira simply stared at her in concerned disbelief at the wild statement. Then, to Elena’s immense relief, she let out a light laugh, shaking her head. “Diamonds? No, no, nothing quite so dramatic. Though edible gold—yes, that is absolutely a thing. But I believe Selina has a very specific vision for the cake. Something elegant, understated, and timeless. Nothing too flashy.”

“Good call,” Elena said, nodding as if she had any authority on the matter. “Diamonds would probably be a choking hazard, anyway.”

Damian exhaled sharply, and Elena realized with a jolt that he was stifling a laugh. His lips twitched faintly, though he quickly schooled his expression back into its usual stoicism.

Amira, for her part, seemed charmed by Elena’s clumsy attempt at humor. “You have a good sense of imagination,” she said with a small smile. “Perhaps I’ll suggest the edible gold idea for another client.”

“Right,” Elena said, trying not to sound as relieved as she felt. “Glad I could help.”

Amira turned her attention back to Damian, her tone shifting slightly. “I should let you both enjoy the evening, but do pass along my regards to Bruce and Selina, won’t you?”

Damian gave a stiff nod. “Sure.”

With one last smile, Amira departed, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she disappeared into the crowd.

Damian shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That was possibly the stupidest thing you could’ve said.”

“Yeah, well, it worked, didn’t it?” Elena shot back, crossing her arms. “She stopped talking about the wedding for a whole thirty seconds.”

Damian didn’t respond immediately, his smirk fading into a quieter, more thoughtful expression. “Thanks,” he said after a moment, his voice low enough that Elena almost didn’t catch it.

She glanced at him, surprised by the rare show of gratitude, but decided not to press. “Anytime,” she said casually, though the warmth in her tone was unmistakable.

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the mixer swirling around them but feeling oddly distant. Then Damian shifted, his usual cool demeanor snapping back into place.

“Come on,” he said, jerking his head toward the next row of tables. “If we stand here any longer, someone else is going to corner us.”

The refreshments table was tucked into a quieter corner of the ballroom, offering a brief reprieve from the constant hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses.  A long white tablecloth spilled over the edges of the table, dotted with neatly arranged platters of hors d’oeuvres, small stacks of plates, and a row of drinks in crystal glasses. Elena reached for a canapé, something round and delicate topped with a sliver of fig and a glossy dollop of cheese. She examined it for a moment, then popped it into her mouth without much thought.

Damian, beside her, poured a glass of sparkling water, his movements calm and precise. He didn’t say anything, but the tension that had been following him since the last conversation seemed to ease slightly. Elena could sense it, the way his shoulders settled just a fraction, though his sharp green eyes still scanned the room as if anticipating another unwelcome interruption.

“Damian,” a deep, warm voice said.

She looked up just as Damian turned toward the sound, his posture straightening slightly. The doctor Lila and her mother had been talking to earlier approached them, his tailored suit fitting so impeccably it seemed almost unfair. His face was lined with age, but his expression carried a warmth that softened his otherwise commanding presence.

“Dr. Bashar,” Damian greeted, his tone polite but measured.

The older man smiled broadly, extending a hand that Damian shook firmly. “It’s good to see you again, my boy. I hear you’ve been doing excellent work at Sacred Hearts.”

Elena froze, her hand still hovering near the platter of drinks. Sacred Hearts?

“It’s fine,” Damian replied evenly, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his tone.

“Fine?” Dr. Bashar chuckled, shaking his head. “Always so modest. The feedback I’ve heard has been glowing. Assisting in pediatrics, helping with intake, running supplies for the nurses—it’s not often we see someone your age commit to that kind of work for so long. They speak very highly of you.”

Damian’s expression didn’t waver, but Elena caught the faintest tension in his jaw. “I’m glad they find it useful,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.

“More than useful,” Dr. Bashar said, clapping a hand lightly on Damian’s shoulder. “It’s inspiring. Keep it up, Damian. The field of medicine could use sharp minds and dedication like yours. You’ve got the makings of a great doctor, if that’s where you choose to go.”

Damian nodded politely. “Thank you.”

Dr. Bashar smiled again, his gaze flickering briefly to Elena who smiled back. He offered her a polite nod before excusing himself to greet another guest.

The moment he was out of earshot, Elena turned to Damian, keeping her movements slow and casual. “Sacred Hearts?” she asked, her tone even but curious. “You’ve been volunteering there?”

“For a year,” Damian replied, his eyes fixed on his glass as he swirled the sparkling water slightly.

Elena raised an eyebrow, leaning her hip against the table. “A year? So that’s why you’re missing from half the classes we share.”

He didn’t look at her, his expression remaining as composed as ever. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“It’s not,” she said lightly, her voice calm. “I just didn’t know. That’s... really cool, actually.”

Damian glanced at her then, his green eyes sharp but searching. He seemed to be gauging her reaction, as if expecting her to press further or make a bigger deal out of it. But she didn’t. She just stood there, quietly processing the new piece of information.

Elena let the moment settle as she studied him, her gaze lingering on the faint tension that still tightened his jaw. She hadn’t expected this—not the polished doctor approaching with familiarity or the unexpected revelation about Sacred Hearts. Damian had always been an enigma, his edges sharp and guarded, but this was new. The idea of him spending a year volunteering at a hospital, working in pediatrics of all things, felt like finding a hidden door in a house she thought she’d already mapped.

Her mind replayed Dr. Bashar’s words, the warmth in his voice as he spoke about Damian’s dedication, his potential. It wasn’t just the usual praise adults lavished on teenagers to sound encouraging—it had weight behind it, a kind of genuine admiration she rarely heard. She wondered what exactly Damian had done at Sacred Hearts to earn such respect. She wondered, too, why he’d never mentioned it.

The ballroom hummed around them, voices and laughter blending with the faint strains of classical music. The golden light from the chandeliers cast long shadows on the polished floor, catching on the edges of Damian’s sharp profile. He looked out of place here, even as he stood tall and composed in his tailored suit, his posture as poised and deliberate as ever.

But there was something in his expression now, something just beneath the surface. She couldn’t quite name it—discomfort, perhaps, or irritation at being singled out. Or maybe it was the quiet weight of the expectations placed on him, the kind that seemed to follow him like a shadow wherever he went.

The way he’d spoken to Dr. Bashar, polite but distant, reminded her of the way Damian handled so many things—with precision, but always at arm’s length. She thought about how quick he was to deflect when the conversation strayed too close to personal ground, how rarely he let anyone glimpse what was behind that carefully constructed facade.

For a moment, she let the silence stretch, neither of them speaking. Damian didn’t seem inclined to break it, his gaze fixed on the glass of sparkling water in his hand. He tilted it slightly, watching the light refract through the bubbles as if it held answers to questions he didn’t want to ask.

Finally, Elena shifted her weight, leaning her hip more fully against the table. Her hands rested lightly on its edge, her fingers tracing the smooth fabric of the tablecloth. “Sacred Hearts,” she said again, her tone thoughtful now, less curious and more contemplative. “Pediatrics and helping nurses. That doesn’t sound like something you’d do just because you’re bored.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his expression still unreadable. When he finally spoke, his tone was quiet, measured. “It’s not about boredom. It’s about usefulness.”

“Useful to who?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “To them, or to you?”

Damian glanced at her then, his green eyes sharp and assessing. For a moment, she thought he might deflect again, brush her off with the same practiced indifference he used so often. But instead, he held her gaze, his shoulders relaxing just slightly, as though he’d decided not to fight her curiosity this time.

“To both,” he said simply.

Elena considered that, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to piece together the layers of meaning in his answer. She thought about Sacred Hearts, about Damian moving through its halls, a teenager among nurses and doctors, running supplies and assisting with intake. She could picture him in a stark white corridor, his sharp edges softened by the fluorescent lighting, his movements precise and efficient as he worked to help patients who might not even know his name.

It was hard to reconcile that image with the Damian standing in front of her now, the one who met the world with sharp words and sharper glares, who seemed so intent on keeping himself separate from everyone else. But it made sense, in a way. Damian thrived on control, on action, on precision. Medicine—or at least, the pieces of it he’d experienced—might offer all of those things in a way that nothing else could. Perhaps a few weeks ago Elena would’ve laughed at the thought of Damian even having an ounce of compassion within him, but seeing the way he lobbied so hard to bring justice to the animals she saw a different side of him.

She let out a soft breath, her gaze drifting back to the crowd milling around them. “You ever think about doing it for real?” she asked, her voice low, almost cautious.

“Doing what?”

“Medicine,” she said, turning back to him. “Becoming a doctor. You obviously have the discipline for it, and it’s not like you don’t have the resources. Plus, Dr. Bashar seems to think you’d be good at it.”

Damian didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped back to his glass, his expression tightening just slightly, as though the question had struck a nerve he hadn’t expected.

“I haven’t decided,” he said finally, his voice clipped.

Elena raised an eyebrow, catching the faint hint of defensiveness in his tone. “Okay, fair. But, like, has anyone in your family done medicine before? Or are you blazing the trail here?”

“My grandfather,” Damian said, his tone softening just enough to surprise her. “Thomas Wayne. He was a surgeon.”

Elena blinked, startled by the unexpected answer. She knew of Thomas Wayne, of course—everyone did. His name was practically a cornerstone of Gotham, attached to hospitals and charities and half the city’s infrastructure. But she hadn’t known he’d been a doctor, let alone one Damian seemed to hold in some level of regard.

“That’s…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “That’s a pretty high bar.”

Damian’s lips curved slightly, not quite a smile but close. “It is. He set a standard most people would struggle to reach. Most people wouldn’t even bother trying to reach it.”

There wasn’t bitterness in his tone, nor was it arrogance. It was almost matter-of-fact, but there was something else beneath it—respect, maybe even pride. He wasn’t weighed down by the name in the way that Lila was weighed down by her mother’s; he carried it like armor, something to live up to rather than run from.

“I didn’t know he was a surgeon,” Elena admitted. “I mean, I knew about the hospitals and everything, but I thought he was just... you know, rich.”

Damian’s expression shifted, his brow lifting slightly, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “He was both,” he said simply. “The wealth was always there—it’s old money, generations of it—but that wasn’t what defined him. He didn’t just sit back and let the name or the money do the work for him. He wanted to solve problems himself, to actually make a difference.”

Elena nodded, turning that over in her mind. It made sense, in a way. Gotham wasn’t known for producing many people like Thomas Wayne—people who could have rested on their privilege but didn’t.

Across the room, Lila was a beacon of exasperation, her arms waving dramatically as if trying to pull Elena’s attention through sheer force of will. She looked, as always, effortlessly fashionable—her blond hair catching the light, her posture demanding attention even in frustration. Elena caught her eye, offering a small nod that seemed to say, I’m coming, though Lila’s expression made it clear she expected no delay.

Damian noticed too. Of course, he did. His gaze flicked in Lila’s direction, sharp and assessing, before he turned back to Elena. “Your friend’s waiting,” he said, his tone flat, almost dismissive. “You shouldn’t keep her.”

There was no malice in his voice, but there was a clear signal: their conversation was over. Elena couldn’t help the faint twist of disappointment in her chest, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because, for a brief moment, she’d felt like she’d seen something different—something quieter, more vulnerable beneath Damian’s carefully composed exterior. Whatever it was, it wasn’t hers to linger on.

Without a word, she gave him a small nod and turned toward Lila, weaving through the clusters of students and parents. The ballroom felt more crowded now, the air thicker with the hum of conversation and the faint strains of classical music. The golden light from the chandeliers spilled over polished floors and gleaming displays, every corner of the room meticulously curated to scream ambition and wealth.

By the time Elena reached Lila, her friend’s expression had morphed from exasperation to outright misery. She was clutching a Harvard brochure like it had personally offended her, her shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of forty minutes of medical jargon was physically pulling her down.

“Finally,” Lila muttered, the word escaping in a breath as she glanced over Elena’s shoulder toward Damian, who was still lingering near the drinks table.

Elena didn’t miss the quick flick of Lila’s eyes, her curiosity practically radiating off her. But Elena didn’t explain. She couldn’t. Not fully.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to share—it was Lila, after all, her best friend, the one person who would have relished hearing about Damian Wayne doing something as uncharacteristic as volunteering at a hospital. But somehow, the thought of telling her felt... wrong. The conversation with Damian had been oddly intimate, threaded with unspoken things that lingered in the air long after the words had ended.

There was something fragile in the way Damian had spoken about his time at Sacred Hearts, even if his tone had been measured, his words carefully neutral. Elena couldn’t shake the feeling that if she shared it, she’d be betraying some unspoken trust. And Damian didn’t strike her as the kind of person who appreciated having his personal life dissected, even by someone as harmless as Lila.

So instead, she deflected, letting her hand brush against the edge of Lila’s crumpled brochure as she leaned against the table beside her. “Rough crowd?”

Lila let out a long, theatrical sigh, dropping the brochure onto the table like it was a burden she couldn’t bear. “If I have to hear the phrase ‘vascular grafting’ one more time, I’m going to throw myself into the nearest punch bowl.”

Elena laughed softly, glancing across the room toward where Lila’s mother stood, still deep in conversation with some other doctor. Lila’s exasperation was written all over her—her normally sharp energy dulled, her polished confidence slightly cracked at the edges.

“They’re still talking?” Elena asked, nodding toward the pair.

“Of course they are,” Lila muttered, rubbing her temples as though trying to massage the medical jargon out of her brain. “Mom could talk about hospital policy until the heat death of the universe. And Dr Bashar? He’s like a human textbook. It’s a miracle I’m still standing.”

Lila’s voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and curious. “So,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “what were you doing with Damian Wayne for so long?”

Elena glanced at her friend, noting the spark of intrigue in her eyes, but she just shrugged, her expression neutral. “Nothing much,” she said lightly, avoiding the question’s weight. “Just... talking.”

Lila raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Talking about what?”

Elena smiled faintly, shaking her head. “Just... stuff. School. Colleges,” Elena said, gesturing to the brochures she’d acquired over the course of the evening.

It wasn’t a lie, not really. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Lila gave her a skeptical look but didn’t press further, which Elena appreciated. Instead, she shifted the conversation back to safer territory, nudging the discarded Harvard brochure with the edge of her shoe. “So,” she said, her tone teasing, “vascular grafting, huh?”

Lila groaned, slumping against the table with exaggerated defeat. “Don’t remind me. I’m going to have nightmares about it for weeks.”

Elena laughed softly, letting the sound fill the space between them. But even as Lila launched into a dramatic retelling of her ordeal with Dr. Bashar, Elena's thoughts lingered elsewhere—on the weight of Damian’s words, on the unexpected layers she’d glimpsed, and on the quiet understanding that some things weren’t meant to be shared.