#genuinely I don’t know when it’s likely that I’d be teaching a college course but I’m so tempted to write a mock-up of a syllabus

[capetowncapers]

Tbh I’d love to get my PhD and potentially teach at a university someday, but when I do, please remind me to stay humble and not to be a hardass about my grading or my deadlines. Not in the sense of not holding students to a high standard but specifically in the sense of being rigid and inflexible or creating a system of grading/assignments that doesn’t allow a potential to adapt where and when it’s needed. I wanna help students learn and gain something from courses I teach but I don’t want them to have to stress needlessly if they need accommodations.

#thinking out loud #it’s a lot to try to articulate but I genuinely do think more flexible deadlines/assignment periods can actually promote student success #classes where discussion formats have been less strict are usually the places I see more in depth impassioned insightful discussions #and *active* engagement between classmates. and between students and professors. #more flexible deadlines or assignment periods can give students more autonomy and put them in charge of managing themselves #i want to be a professor who remembers students have other classes and commitments and personal struggles #and I want to be a professor that my students feel they can come to when they need support #I’ve seen enough class setups and enough types of students and types of assignments #that I just think…. being rigid doesn’t always work #again. that scratches the tip of the iceberg of my thoughts on this it’s a broad explanation #but. i am caffeinated and full of thoughts and dopamine. and I want to write a syllabus rn #genuinely I don’t know when it’s likely that I’d be teaching a college course but I’m so tempted to write a mock-up of a syllabus #i might do it. like for fun. idk. #cape town rambles

[antichilde]

worth the wait

satoru gojo x fem reader, 800 words mdni

contents: sfw, teaching assistant!gojo, student!reader, tutoring, disinterested reader/playing hard to get, reader and geto are friends, some bullet point format and some prose

notes: i like this set up, so i’ll probably add more to this in the future. any prompts/thirsts/ideas via ask are welcome. also it’s 4am and i’m working in the morning so keep me in your prayers

You’re not bad at biology, but let’s just say waiting until your last year of college to fulfill your life sciences requirement means you're a little rusty.

Thankfully Gojo Satoru (one year below you but embarrassingly far ahead in everything else) is always there to help you out.

He’s a player. You know he’s a player. But you hadn’t expected that he’d set his sights on you— not only because this is the first time you’ve interacted on a regular basis, but also because he’s your TA and this is a yearlong course. There are some lines you just shouldn’t cross, especially not this close to graduation.

But it’s not so bad. For one thing, he always makes time to meet with you even though you know he’s gotta be canceling plans to do it.

Another is that he’s used to getting what he wants, and it’s kind of cute seeing how frustrated he gets when you pretend not to notice his advances.

Gojo is charming, and you genuinely enjoy his company when he’s not acting like a creep. But when you find out he’s stopped pursuing other people, you begin to worry that he’s caught feelings.

And even more concerning: that you may have caught them as well.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” says Gojo, half shouting over the music.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” You take another swig from the red solo cup in your hand. “So you didn’t specifically ask Geto to invite me, then?”

To his credit, he barely reacts to the accusation, taking a sip of Hi-C and looking at you with wide, innocent eyes.

“You and Suguru are friends, right? I don’t know why you think I’d have to ask him to invite you.”

Pulling out your phone, you unlock it and open your texts with Geto. After a moment of scrolling you turn and show him the screen.

You’re coming on Friday right? Satoru keeps asking.

“Traitor,” Gojo mutters as you shut the phone off and shove it back into your pocket. He eyes your outfit. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, just jeans and a sweatshirt.

“You could’ve just asked me yourself,” you say, leaning close enough for him to hear.

He looks down at you, his eyes half lidded, and wonders if this is finally you giving in. “Would you have said yes?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you seem to think for a minute. “No, probably not. I’m not much of a party person— I only came because Geto bribed me with dinner.”

“I could take you to dinner,” says Gojo, and he hates the little edge of bitterness buried in the words. Jealousy has never been his style, and he has no desire to change that now.

“You could,” you acknowledge, nodding. “But only if you help me study for midterms. And if you pay.”

There’s no hesitation in Gojo’s answer.

“Done.”

A little smile plays on your lips and Gojo’s eyes flick down to them before he remembers that he’s not wearing his glasses. Shit. But he’s glad he looked, because that’s the biggest reaction he’s ever gotten from you.

“Hey, you made it!”

Geto seems to appear out of nowhere, or maybe it’s just that Gojo has been so focused on you. He watches with distaste as you give his best friend a one armed hug, holding your drink to the side so as not to spill it.

“Yes, I did. How long did you say I had to stay?”

“Half an hour.”

Taking a sip, your eyes shift to the clock on the wall. “Only ten more minutes then. Is it okay if I crash in your room for a bit? It’s kind of overwhelming being around so many people.”

“Fine with me.” Geto shoots Gojo a semi-apologetic glance before shifting his attention back to you. “I’ll show you where it is.”

You turn to Gojo, leaning closer again so that you don’t have to shout. He’s glad the music’s loud enough to mask his little intake of breath when you brush up against him.

“See you later, Gojo. I’ll text you about dinner.”

You don’t have my number, he wants to say, but by the time he collects himself you’re already gone. He finishes off his Hi-C like it’s a shot of something strong, eyes lingering on the spot where you’d been a moment before.

This is getting out of hand.

#self insert #f!reader #second person pov #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #I’ve been on this website for a decade and i still have no idea how tagging works

[eretzyisrael]

BY EMILY BENEDEK

Bratman teaches his Jewish students to adopt a different approach to the world—one anchored in tradition, learning, and the study of Jewish texts. At the dinner in the 23rd Street synagogue, he invited the students to let him know if they’d like to join him in studying Pirkei Avot in honor of IDF soldiers called up for duty. He also has a club of about 80 boys who are laying tefillin every day.

Bratman told me that, in spite of the recent stresses, he’s not worried about his Jewish students. “Ninety-nine point nine percent of them are rational people who go out and get jobs, they get married and I go to their weddings and brises.”

But there is something terribly wrong with the others, he believes. “A lot of these students, they’re nice, they’re wonderful people, right? But they look at me as a Jew, and say, ‘well, you know, because you’re supportive of this Israel story and Israel narrative, you kind of stand with the oppressor, you know, and I’m Hispanic or Black and I have to stand with the oppressed. Or I’m gay and I have to stand with the oppressed.”

Bratman’s worry is that these students, by adopting a worldview of grievance, are keeping themselves down with imaginary obstacles and denying their own volition. “What they don’t understand is that [these invented obstacles] are all surmountable. It’s my mission to uplift and empower these young people to actually strive for the opportunities that exist and to dispel the false and limiting idea that it’s all impossible.”

Bratman told me he had a student at John Jay whom he will never forget, a student struggling mightily at school. “I had many conversations with him,” Bratman said. “I’d say, ‘come, come on, keep going, keep going.’ And he said, ‘No, I’m thinking of dropping out.’”

“And I’m like, no, no, get through this class. I got you. I got you. And I carried him through this course. And on the last day he came to see me, and he said, ‘I dropped out of all the classes except for yours. Everybody in my family, including my mother and my grandparents—I don’t know my father—my uncles and everybody said, ‘What are you doing? Why are you going to college? You can get a job now for $20 an hour, and when you graduate, you’re gonna get a job for $20 an hour. What’s the purpose?’”

Bratman seemed genuinely sad—not angry or offended, just sad—about what he heard next. “No one ever believed in me,” the student said. “I can’t believe that the first and only person who’s ever believed in me is a white Jew.”

#ilya bratman #jews #jewish students

[the-20something-cat-lady]

The Unexpected Start

I started working at the local hospital as a server because I was in need of a job. The pandemic was already very rough on me, and moving out from my parents’ house didn’t make it any easier. At that point, I was living at a friend’s family home. While they treated me like they would a cousin, the fact of the matter is that I was essentially on my own while taking care of my five beloved pets. I used to work at a McDonald’s nearby, but after one particularly rough night, I quit outright without a proper notice. I was out of a job for about three weeks before starting off at the hospital. I had a bit of a wild streak going on at that time, and my photo badge was proof of it. My hair was a platinum blonde with an undercut, and I was used to wearing chokers to work every day. Working at the hospital was my first time working alongside seasoned adults. What made it intimidating was the fact that I started when the town was at a state of emergency with all the hospitalizations from COVID-19. Working in a healthcare setting was definitely not an expectation of mine. I had always believed I’d stay in college, become a high school teacher, and start teaching by the time my own sister started high school herself. The pandemic changed that plan drastically. I’ve been told I was dealt a bad hand, but maybe it was the start of what I was actually meant to do. And I say maybe because I still don’t know what that ‘something’ is. Even after meeting a pair of kind eyes, I was disillusioned by the course of my own life at that point. Nothing went according to plan, and of all the places I expected to end up in, the local hospital wasn’t it – during a pandemic, no less. I knew nothing about medical residency at the time, so I genuinely figured he was just one of many medical students out and about. I ran into him a fair amount starting off, and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he caught me staring every now and again. I couldn’t help but be smitten by that pair of welcoming eyes. Before I knew it, I had a little crush but back then, I figured it’d be a crush and nothing more. And I was fine with that. My mental health and love life were dumpster fires then, so I wasn’t at all preoccupied by it. It wasn’t until the dust had settled that I started focusing more on the resident physician I’d run into and chat with once in a while. And of course, that wouldn't be until after my first year of working in the hospital. By then, that little crush had subsided. I was so caught up with life that I had almost forgotten about it until I decided to give the man my number. It wasn’t like I had anything to lose at that point, so I figured I might as well go for it and see what happens. But I do remember stressing out about it the first couple of days because I had convinced myself I put down my number wrong on his phone. After a bit, I wrote a little note and handed it to him when I finally ran into him during his downtime.

Sometimes I wonder if he ever thinks about those first few days of us talking. I know I’ll catch myself reminiscing from time to time. I had high hopes like I do for every man I’ve been romantically involved with, and high hopes are usually followed by huge letdowns. But I wasn’t worried about that just yet. I didn’t want to think negatively because I wanted things to go the way I would’ve preferred. Looking back though, I know I was always idealistic when it came to love. I say that in the past tense, but that’s still very much the case now as it was back then. I’m always hopeful and optimistic until reality sets in, and all of a sudden, that warm and fuzzy feeling is replaced with sarcasm and doubt. The cynicism one feels after the end of a relationship is damn near unmatched – not in a good way obviously. I don’t want to say that I feel lost without him, but I still feel this sense of melancholy in my chest when I think about the beginning. I’m genuinely not sure if I regret what happened later on down the line or if it’s a general state of sadness. But either way, it’s not a pleasant feeling and especially when you can physically feel it. The sensation is bearable now, but before, it was beyond overwhelming. If it wasn’t for my many pets, I don’t think I would’ve gotten out of bed in the mornings.

#my post #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #romantic #romance #love #lovers #feelings #sad thoughts #couple #intimate #passion #personal #personal musings #memoir

[shion-yu]

Day 22 - Punishment

“Would it make you feel better if you hit me?” Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Cliff - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23741453.cliff 

CW: Vague mention of child abuse

Elliot was pissed. He knew it wasn’t truly a big deal - Cliff hadn’t meant to leave an open half gallon of milk in their dorm room over the weekend on purpose. It was just a bad smell that would go away. But it was so hot being the very end of the summer that the horrid scent just lingered, sticking to everything insistently. Elliot had to spend his entire laundry budget for the month washing everything, although Cliff had paid him back. They had scrubbed everything down with disinfectant twice and yet, still, Elliot felt like he could still sense it ever so slightly.

Cliff claimed he didn’t smell it anymore, which just made Elliot more annoyed. “Just because you have the observational skills of a teenage boy doesn’t mean I should have to suffer,” Elliot had snapped at him.

“Aren’t we both teenage boys still, technically?” Cliff asked. They were in the second semester of freshman year of college and had been rooming together since after Christmas break. They were dating, Cliff had issues with his college football roommate bringing girls back to the dorms, and Elliot’s roommate had decided to study abroad for the second semester... It made sense to room together at the time, even though a lot of people said maybe being dorm roommates and dating wasn’t the best idea in the world. Now Elliot saw their point.

He liked living with Cliff most of the time. But Cliff could be insufferable at times and when he was, there was no escape - just their tiny little room with two twin beds and nothing more than six feet of space separating them at maximum. One of them would have to physically leave their living space if they wanted some air and it could get tense really fast. 

“Cliff, I don’t know what to tell you. Just don’t do it again,” Elliot sighed. 

“Would it make you feel better if you hit me?” Cliff said like it was a perfectly natural thing to say.

“I - what?” Elliot stared at him in confusion, then horror. “Of course not! I would never hit you, are you crazy?” He looked hurt, too. “Do you really think I would want that?”

Cliff shook his head. “No, I just wanted to ask. It’s not that weird.”

“It is weird, it’s really weird,” Elliot muttered. “Don’t tell me you have a kink for that or something... Do you?”

“No!” Cliff exclaimed defensively. “I just... that’s what I’m used to.”

Elliot blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your parents never hit you?” Cliff asked genuinely.

“No.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence. Neither of them seemed to know what to say next. Elliot sighed, this new information weighing heavily on his heart. “Cliff, I don’t know if it was just discipline or... worse, but whatever it was, my family definitely never hit me. They don’t believe in that,” Elliot said. “I would never want to hit you, and I’d never want you to hit me. Would you?”

“No,” Cliff said. Elliot wasn’t sure how he managed to look so horrified when he was the one who had brought up corporal punishment in the first place. “I don’t want to hit you.”

“Okay. Good. No hitting,” Elliot said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be mad at you.”

Cliff was quiet as if he needed to consider this new way of life seriously. If Elliot didn’t hit him, how would he know he was excused? Might as well ask... “So how do I know when you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Elliot sighed in exasperation. Cliff really had grown up so differently from him that it was hard to reconcile at times. “I’ll tell you, how about that?”

“Okay,” Cliff said. “Does it help if I say I’m sorry again?”

“I know you’re sorry. You don’t have to keep saying it,” Elliot told him. Sometimes it was like teaching a kid with Cliff, he swore. “I’m going to take a walk, and when I come back it’s all okay, alright?”

“Alright,” Cliff said. “I’ll wait here.” He looked like a hopeless puppy. Elliot couldn’t help but smile a little to himself. Cliff really did have the best intentions most of the time, even if he was misguided and confused for half of it. Sometimes teaching him how to be a normal person was exhausting, but it could also be endearing. Elliot decided he could be patient for him; it was worth it.

#ShionWrites #oc: Cliff #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday22 #ailesswhumptober #day 22 #whump #male whump #hurt comfort #angst #tw: abuse

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #080

When was the last time you took a taxi/Uber? Where were you going? I actually never have. It's not really a common thing around here. Have you ever been diagnosed (by a professional) with OCD? Yes. Do you know anyone who’s always getting into drama on Facebook? Not these days, no. The most that I ever see is pretty rare outraging over multiple people's babydaddies doing dumb shit lmao. Who is your favorite person to spend time with? Girt. Have you ever woken up somewhere and not known how you got there? Only very briefly after waking up from receiving my concussion and also for just a few moments after waking up from anesthesia for my surgery.

What was the last thing to surprise you? Not gonna lie, some of the shit Sara had to say about me that I read the other day really shocked me. She never gave a shit about me; I was an annoyance. Do you live somewhere where recreational marijuana is legal? No, it's illegal in NC. Have you ever quit a job with no notice? No, but each time I quit extremely abruptly, which I don't think is considered proper at all regardless of how short I worked at each place, and that I had to quit for my mental health. I didn't give a warning or anything, I just straight-up quit that day each time. Don't advise that at all, I just... had to go. Are there any foods you dislike solely because of the texture? A FUCKING LOT, like I couldn't even think of them all in one go. Have you ever been on any sort of government assistance? Yes. Did you have your own bedroom when you were growing up? Not until I was a teenager, probably a few years into being one. Prior to my older sister moving out, I shared my room with my younger sis Nicole. If you were to get engaged, what’s your dream engagement ring? I'd be happy with anything, but my DREAM engagement and/or wedding ring is either something rose gold or a dragon's breath opal. What is the last thing you googled? Actually a dragon's breath opal ring, just because I wanted to see one again since I mentioned it, haha. If everyone were required to make a YouTube channel, what would your content be like? I uh... guess I'd be a let's player? However if I was in the tarantula-keeping hobby, I think I'd favor being a tarantula keeper channel, there are people who literally support themselves with just teaching about and caring for their spoods and it seems pretty cool, honestly. Why do you dislike/hate the person you most dislike/hate? I have a metric shit-ton of reasons I don't feel like getting into right now. Do you have any stickers on your car? My mom's car still has one marking her as a college student (you needed it for parking rights), and I feel there are other ones I just can't remember, but nothing just for decor purposes, I know. Do you have any stickers on your laptop? Nah, but I'd actually kinda like some. I don't expect this laptop to go anywhere anytime soon, especially now that I'm not jostling it around in bed and am at a proper desk. Do you think that you are a good singer? Nope. Are you sure of your sexuality? Honestly? Nope. I mean I'm PRETTY sure, but I've said it before and I'll say it again that I don't think I ever WILL be totally sure unless I ever have a truly sexual experience with someone with the traditionally feminine attributes. Just honestly though I really don't care, I know at the minimum that I can find absolutely anyone physically attractive and I just say that. Do you love your parents? I absolutely do. My mom is my actual fucking rock, like I DON'T know and don't wanna know where I'd be without her, and my dad is goofy and very free-spirited and just fun to be around, plus he's grown so much as a person from when I was a child. Do you like to read? I do. I have GOT to make more time for it, though; I don't read books as much as I'd like. It's funny, I get joy and peace and of course satisfaction from reading a good book, there usually just is other things I'd rather be doing. Do you think that you are a good writer? I genuinely think so. Do you eat candy daily? Oh, absolutely not. I have candy really rarely. Do you like to go swimming? I do. Who was driving the last three cars you were in? My mom, Girt, and Nicole. Does anyone call you babe or baby? Girt, sometimes. Have you ever voluntarily read the Bible? Some of it, but not most. I did nooooot get far at all. How many good friends do you have? Honestly? If you excuse Girt bc he's my boyfriend/more than a "good friend," I feel like my only other remotely close friends are Mazzy and Tez. I mean I have other friends, but not any that I talk to regularly or have truly deep bonds with. What’s your favorite ocean animal? Jellyfish as far as aesthetics go, but as individual animals themselves with personalities, bigass whales, like blue whales, as well as sea turtles. Whales in specific are fucking stunning and I REALLY want to swim with one, like I feel like I'd cry seeing a live, wild whale, just fucking marveling at how small me and all my problems really are. When’s the last time you went exploring? Uhhhh, I want to say not since I visited Sara and we walked down this lovely path she has right by her house that reaches back into a lightly-populated neighborhood and then to a pond and stream. Saying I "explored" it may be a bit too far though, like I didn't dig through brush and shit to thoroughly detail every square inch, mostly because on that last visit my knees were starting to get very bad and I nearly collapsed before making it back to her place. But still, it was a new, mostly natural area that I hadn't seen before. Do you have a thing for body hair? Like, am I interested in that for a partner? In that case, I'm indifferent, I think. Don't really care whether you have it or not. Is there anyone into you that you have no interest in? Not that I know of; I don't know who would be. Do your parents have a bad relationship with anyone? Each other, lmao. Mom, like me (but probably stronger than me), also has a love/hate relationship with Tobey, our family friend/landlord. Don't feel like getting into the details because I get upset. Mom is also not very fond of my sister's husband Nick, primarily because he's controlling and distrustful and she sees very clearly that he does not treat Aubree (Ash's daughter that was born before they got together, but Nick legally adopted her; she still doesn't know yet) the same as he does his two biological children, Ryder and Emerson. We all feel like once she does know he's not her real dad, this is going to become a legitimate problem of her feeling unloved. I basically fucking pray to god this doesn't happen. Were you raised by someone other than your parents? No. Do you sing a lot? I barely sing like, at all. Do you prefer the color pink or blue? PINK! 😭 What’s the last chore you did? Well, given the (although very minimum) effort it takes to feeding a snake that only eats frozen/thawed rodents, I suppose getting Venus' rat ready. You have to be very thoroughly and not feed a snake anything that hasn't thawed/warmed up properly. Have you ever had pet mice? I actually feel like I've only ever had rats? MAYBE I've had mice, but I'm not too sure, I always favored rats. <3 Do you have a step-family? Well, in technicality, yes, since my dad remarried. However, I don't consider my stepmom a "mom" to me in my world, nor is her son my "brother" in my world, like I barely know him at all. What is your godmother’s name? I'm pretty sure I don't have a godmother. Have you ever been to a jungle? No. I'd really like to, but I'm also just not sure, primarily because the humidity would ENTIRELY SLAUGHTER me. Just NC humidity makes me fuckin choke, never mind a tropial environment's! I would love to see tropical animals though, the reptiles especially, but I don't think I'll ever be able to handle the heat and drenched air. What is your favorite jungle animal? Oh, YEESH, that's hard; jungles are so dense in unique animals! Ummm, probably some bright kind of (probably venomous, usually prettier) snake or orangutans, they're incredibly fascinating and SO human in their personalities. Hailing back to the old Animal Planet, Orangutan Island was my shit back in the day. I also recall being deeply invested in a rhesus macaque docuseries at some point, but idk if their habitats are considered "jungles?" I wish I could remember what the series was called, it was lovely. Do you like fire? Controlled fire that doesn't endanger living creatures, yes, I think it's very pretty and powerful. I obviously dislike the heat, though. Have you ever had to beg for food or money? No, GOD I hope I am never, fucking EVER, in this situation... because I just COULDN'T ask. I'd literally die on the streets. If you met a genie, what would you wish for? Guessing the usual three wishes, and the typical rule where it can't be like, world peace and other truly world-altering shit? First, financial stability for life, as well as a good home for Mom and me. Thennnn... I'd have to really think more before choosing the last one, but at this moment, I'd choose a quality car for Mom. Would you consider yourself poor? Mom and I are factually very poor. I mean we're in a better position right NOW because of my grandma's inheritence going through, but it's not going to last forever and as a matter of fact for some REALLY fucking stupid reason Mom needs to burn it fast because otherwise it will majorly negatively affect some shit I don't quite know how to explain because legal stuff really confuses me, just know it's FUCKING DUMB and sincerely infuriating. Have you ever lied about your identity? Nope. Do you have a brother? A half-brother, but still a brother nonetheless. He is SUCH a cool and just generally good guy that I really wished lived here so we could see and interact more... He even has a son that just turned a year old that I've never met and really want to, he's a total cutie. His wife also seems super nice and just awesome and I'd love to meet her too. Have you ever ran away from home? Yes, as a HORRIBLY overdramatic pre-teen. It didn't last long. I had my phone on me and Mom texted me threatening to call the cops so I was home pretty quick, haha. She was fuckin mad as fire, rightfully so. Have you ever blamed yourself for someone’s death? Pets, yes. I LOVED my pets that I've had, of course, but I was allowed to get my own unique pets at too young of an age and could definitely be irresponsible... I hate thinking about it. Don't get fuckin pets unless you are fully willing to give them your absolute all, people. Does your family own any land? Ha, no. Have you ever served in the military? Absolutely not and quite frankly I'd die before fighting for this shit country. Is your father injured? Not that I know of; he's had spine issues since he fell rollerskating at my sister's bday party when she was very young, but I don't think he has any like, actively severe issues with it or anything else rn. He semi-recently had surgery for I want to say a slipped disc, but I'm pretty sure that issue is fixed. Do you own any “lucky” items? What? No, I don't believe that any items increase anyone's "luck." Have you ever dated someone from a different country? Well Juan was an illegal immigrant that was eventually deported, so I guess, if you want to consider our less-than-one-day relationship "dating." What’s your favorite thing about nature? Nature has a tendency to really help me appreciate the little things and find peace and comfort in just existing within it. It's also like, beyond beautiful. Are you part Native American? Not that I know of, no. When was the last time someone discriminated against you because of your race? That's never happened to me. Have you ever been to New Orleans? Nope. Who is the oldest sibling in your family? Uh, I wanna say my mom's oldest daughter Katie. Possibly Tiffany, Dad's eldest that I know absolutely nothing about, but I don't think so. Who is the worst boss you’ve ever had? I dunno, probably Colleen's mom, but idk how she was as a boss, really. I was there like, three days. What are the names of the all the dogs you’ve ever owned? Trigger, Angel, Teddy, Dale, Cali, Delilah, Bentley, Lola (that was VERY short-lived), and Cookie. Quite certain that's it. Have you ever lived alone? No, I never could. Have you been told by a doctor that you are a rare medical case? Uhhhh I don't THINK so? Who was the last person who came to visit you? Girt, his sister + her husband, his nephew, and his mom, as well as a family friend/basically Girt's "aunt" and her dad actually all came here today to celebrate Girt's mom's birthday. It was fun, I'm just VERY drained afterwards. Are you listening to a good song right now? No, I'm watching a let's play. What grocery store do you shop at the most? Wal-Mart. What is your most severe allergy (at least to your knowledge)? Just pollen, I think. Have you ever had dreadlocks? No, that's not a hairstyle I will ever want, I'm sure. Have you ever gone to the emergency room having a severe allergic reaction? No. What is the worst thing someone has ever done to you? To be ENTIRELY honest, Sara basically accusing me of exaggerating and how I'm absolutely not traumatized hit me FUCKING DEEP, like at least Jason left my life because he sought happiness that I just couldn't offer him, but this woman straight-up thinks all the shit that nearly made me kill myself OVER and fucking OVER again is a lie. That HURTS. Maybe it hurts more now than it will later, but that honestly does feel like the worst, most fucking inconsiderate thing. Have you ever gone nude/streaked in public? Absolutely not. Do you snore? Steal the covers? Roll around in your sleep? Girt and Mom have both said I sometimes snore, but not frequently. I hog the FUCK outta the covers, Girt is very open about that, haha. When trying to fall asleep, I do toss and turn a lot, but idk about when I fall asleep. What if someone asked you to be in a relationship with them? I'm in a relationship that I am very happy in so would obviously say no. What will your next piercing be? Probably an industrial ear cartilage one, but not sure. Who made you cry last? I actually cried a bit earlier, thankfully after Girt's family had gone home though so only he and Ma saw. We started watching Black Mirror and the second episode we watched (not the ACTUAL second episode, we jumped into S5 since Girt hadn't seen these and the episodes don't continue the same story, so I wasn't missing anything) dealt with a man leading up to suicide (I think it hit me even harder because it was romantic heartbreak-related) and it was just fucking heartbreaking and I eventually broke, despite trying so hard to hide it. The show is REALLY good, though. Is your best friend in a relationship? With me! <3 Did anything cute happen today? Yeah actually, someone in Girt's family (I think the aunt) pointed out how strange but also sweet it was to hear Girt call me by the petnames he does, and everyone else agreed, lol. Blew her fucking mind when she learned how long we've been together too, Girt is just really private and even his MOM didn't know we'd been dating for like, I wanna say nine-ish months 'til she finally met me. ANYWAY I just thought it was cute, them seeing a side to him they really never knew he had. Is tomorrow going to be a good day? Um idk, I don't think I have anything going on of note tomorrow. Are you wearing jeans, shorts, sweatpants or pajama pants? I ACTUALLY have sweatpants on right now; I wanted to be more properly dressed with Girt's family coming over. Still wore my tank top though, haha. Are you gonna get high later? No, probs never will. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Absolutely plan on it. Honestly, who was the last person to tell you that they love you? Girt, before he left to go home. Is there a secret you’ve never told your parents? Yes, but nothing that's even remotely important or serious. Is there anything in your past that you’d like to try again? Uhhhhh maybe?

#survey #surveys #random questions #random surveys

[cmyknoise]

i am almost 19, i live in the united states, and i can not emphasize how much i wish there was a ‘highschool 2′ 

i dont want to go to college just yet but i still want to learn things. and going to college wouldnt fix my yearn to learn, because truly i dont think i’d be learning in the way i’m talking about. 

because, at least all the colleges i’m familiar with and stuff, you go to college to learn how to apply knowledge for a career. you major in a field that can be applied to a job. but i dont want to learn that. 

i want to have a highschool 2 where i can chose the subjects. i can choose history or english or geography and instead of focusing on necessities like math or english, i get to focus on the subjects i like. 

i take a semester long course in history not for a job, but because i want to learn more about a country’s history or the world’s history or history about a certain era. 

i take a semester long course in biology, not because i want to go into a field to study it scientifically or medically, but because i just want to know how things work simply because it’s cool. 

i don’t want to go to school to take tests and exams and finals just to pass with something that would help me in a job. and like, i get that’s what college is for. but i really wish there was something like, as i called it, highschool too. 

where you can sit in classes like you do in highschool and just learn shit, except you get to chose what classes you want to take. 

i would love to learn about astronomy, herbology, human & animal biology, history, geology, literature, etc etc without it having the catch of ‘you will use this information to get a job or to teach other people this information’. 

i just want to know to know, and i try really hard to learn stuff by just researching fun topics because i like doing that! but i learned things so much better when i was being taught by people who were passionate about a subject. 

i would pay to go to a college-esk place where you can just learn to learn without being pressured into taking tests and exams and using what you learn to get a job. 

i plan to go to college eventually, either when i’m more financially stable to do so or when i move to a place where it’s not a lifetime loan level cost to do 4 years of school. i want to do something job wise with art of course but. 

i would still love to just, learn other things, simply because i can, and i love doing it, and i genuinely feel like that is something that just isn’t available or a thing anymore. when you go to school after highschool it’s expected to be used for a job. major in something you want to do for the rest of your life. 

but i want to learn about planets and the earth and history from all over the world and literature from all over the world and i’d like to learn various sciences and i’d like to learn how to do things like sewing or cooking or how to take care of animals or plants or basic medical stuff or just know about the human body because its cool or how evolution in animals and plants work. i just want to know things to know them but simply reading wikipedia articles and looking at various articles isn’t enough. i miss highschool because i miss learning in that setting and i wish it was an option to continue doing without the expectation to get a job. 

#school #college #university #lemon's stuff #i have no fucking idea what to tag this as #rant

[marvelouspeterparker]

professor’s sweetheart

pairing: professor!tom holland x student!reader

summary: professor holland teaches british literature at your university. you hadn’t expected much when you signed up for the course, but the experience is everything and more than you could have hoped for. 

word count: 15.1k

warnings: there is smut in here but it’s not the main focus (wild, i know)

notes: uh yeah i’d say just don’t fuck your professor? this is purely fictional. be safe, you know how it is <3

also she wrote a professor!harry styles fic, but if i hadn’t read that (over and over) i probably wouldn’t have been inspired to write this. so check out @songbirdstyles​ !

i listened to this playlist while writing it if ur interested :)

give me feedback please!!

“What class do you have next?” Your friend, and roommate Liz asked. You were both walking out of the cafeteria. It was 1:15, you had just finished lunch and you had fifteen minutes until your next class. You pushed the doors open together and braced yourselves as the cool late September breeze hit you, blowing your jackets open. You put both sides of the jacket together in front of you and crossed your arms to block the cold out. 

“Um,” you thought back for a moment, the cold temporarily knocking your senses right out of you. “British Literature.”

If you were being honest, you had taken this course because it fulfilled one of your requirements, but in the end it felt like one of the most rewarding parts of your college experience so far. The material was interesting, and instead of being bored out of your mind throughout the whole hour and a half of class––it was actually entertaining. You had your professor to thank for that.

“Oooh,” Liz twisted her lips to the side to suppress a knowing smile, but the look in her eyes gave it away. “With Professor Holland?” She asked, batting her eyelashes innocently. 

You rolled your eyes and bit your tongue to hide your smile. “Yes,” you shoved her playfully to the side making her step in a pile of leaves, the crunch under boots loud as ever as it carried through the crisp air. “Shut up.”

You and Liz had been roommates since your first year at university and had now spent four, coming up on five semesters rooming together. Luckily, you really hit it off, and easily fell into a routine together, forming a bond as you ate lunch and dinner together, studied in the library, had dance parties in your dorm, and more. You knew each other inside and out, often having random late night conversations while you procrastinated your work or couldn’t sleep, about literally anything and everything. Bottom line is, you trusted each other, which is why she knew about your sort-of-crush on Professor Holland. 

To be fair everyone had a thing for him, he was just that kind of guy. He was sweet and compassionate and funny. Professor Holland was one of those genuine professors who sincerely cared about their students and their well-beings. He was incredibly understanding. He’d schedule dozens of meetings with his students all in one day just because he wanted to help and make sure they were all alright. He liked to check in every now and then, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

From what you could tell he also seemed like a people person. No matter who he was with, whether it was a student, his teaching assistant Jacob, or his fellow professors––he was always attentive, cracking jokes, enjoying the conversation. Everyone seemed to love him. But you could also tell that a part of him was just a tad bit cocky, but in a joking and love-able way. 

All this goes to show that you spent way too much time thinking about him, and observing him, which could either be seen as really endearing or really creepy. 

“Look I’m just saying,” Liz shrugged, “Enjoy the class.” She nudged you, “I know I would.”

Realizing you were approaching the writing and arts center, and Liz’s next class was in the building across the street, you sent her off. “Yeah yeah, okay. Bye.” You tightened your arms around you and scurried off, skipping a crack in the sidewalk and walking up the steps to the building. You opened the door and were immediately welcomed by a rush of warm air and let out a sigh, rubbing your hands together as you made your way to the lecture hall. 

You pulled your phone out and checked the time, 1:22. You still had 8 minutes to spare. You were still walking and only glanced up from your phone right as you were about to walk into the door and were stopped suddenly when you crashed into a hard chest. You immediately felt two warm hands grasp your arms to steady you and were suddenly enveloped by the smell of tea and mint. 

“Woah! I’m sorry, love, are you alright?”

You froze as you looked up, feeling very much like a deer in headlights as you realized you quite literally crashed into your professor. “Oh––um,” you swallowed, suddenly feeling like the air was escaping you. You cleared your throat trying to save yourself from anymore embarrassment. “I’m fine––I’m sorry, that was my fault. I wasn’t looking––” You paused when you noticed the small smile on his face, his warm eyes making you forget what you were going to say.

“It’s alright, Y/N. It was partially my fault as well, I was too focused on––” he seemed to snap out of some trance, straightening himself up as his hands dropped back down to his sides and into his pockets. “Uh, well that’s not important.” He pulled one hand out of his pocket––he was wearing those blue slacks that you thought made his thighs look great, respectfully, of course. He checked the time on his watch and you had to stop yourself from ogling the veins in his arms as he did so. 

He looked up at you, brows furrowed playfully and you actually had to remind yourself to breathe. “You’re almost ten minutes early. You that eager to see me?” He ended his question with a teasing smirk and your mouth opened and closed a few times before you managed to string together a response.

“I––um, I just really like this class and you––you’re my favorite professor.” You blurted out, your cheeks heating up as you realized what you just admitted. You had to force your eyes to go back to their normal size after they practically bulged at the realization of what you said. “And I mean, I just happened to get here early so...I thought I might as well get settled in.”

Your professor cleared his throat, trying to hide his smile as he glanced down at his shoes for a moment then back up at you. “Well then.” He extended his arm, pointing towards the open door of the hall and stepped aside. “Please, after you.” 

You gave him a small smile in return along with a quiet thank you and stepped through the door. But before you could walk over to your seat, you felt him lean over behind you to talk lowly in your ear. He was standing a respectably close distance, but his presence was so overwhelming it was as though you felt him everywhere. His breath caressed the smooth skin of your cheek as he spoke. 

“I’m technically not allowed to have favorites, but I do appreciate that you enjoy having me as your professor, darling.” It shouldn’t have had such an effect on you, really, it shouldn’t have. But something about him referring to himself by his title really did something to you. You took a sharp inhale as you stood up straight, your whole body on high alert as you turned your head towards him, your eyes refusing to look at his and instead finding solace in the fabric of his navy blue button up––which he’d rolled up to his forearms. 

“And if it means anything, I rather do enjoy having you in my class as well.” You snuck a peek at him, lifting your gaze slowly and only caught a glimpse of his soft lips as he smiled before walking over to his desk. 

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you walked up the steps to your usual spot in the middle row, near the aisle. Your legs felt like they were going to give out any minute, and the man hadn’t even touched you––well not in the way you wanted him to, anyway. But enough of that. 

You checked your phone again, trying to calm down your heartbeat as you took in a deep breath, 1:28. People started shuffling into the class, the overlapping sounds of chatter and laughter rupturing the energy the room had when it was just the two of you. At 1:32 Professor Holland started the class, getting everyone’s attention smoother than anyone should be able to. You could almost feel everyone’s eyes focusing on him, some weren’t even listening to him, they were just so entranced by how good he looked and the way he sounded––his accent was just so endearing, you had to admit it. 

The hour and a half went by rather quickly but today you were more aware of yourself, of Professor Holland––even more than usual. It seemed as though his eyes would travel to your direction more often, after he made jokes as if to see your reaction, or while he paused in his speeches. 

At the end of the class, despite there being dozens of other students moving around you, you felt as though your professor was watching you as you made your way out of the room. But it had to be your imagination, there was just no way. 

When you got back to your dorm, Liz still wasn’t back yet so you decided to take a shower and spend some time relaxing. You had already done your work for the next day and your other work for the rest of the week––well, you decided you’d do it later. 

You changed into sweats after your shower and hopped on your bed, deciding to switch between your apps for an hour or so––honestly you’d lost track of time. Liz strolled in soon after, closing the door with a loud groan, throwing her bag on the floor.

You smiled, looking up at her from your lying position on the bed. “Hello to you too.”

She grumbled in response, finally looking at you. When she noticed you were already wearing your pajamas she pointed to you, her brows raised. “Good idea!” She immediately went to her drawers and picked out a random pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, changing with lightning speed for someone who was sluggishly groaning not even a minute before. 

She grabbed her phone and sat on her bed opposite yours, cross-legged, facing you. She looked at your face for a few seconds before squinting her eyes at you. “You have something to say. Spill.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile on your face. 

She looked at you pointedly, “Well go on.” 

So you told her about your encounter with the infamous brit today, how you bumped into him, what he said to you, the glances he sent your way. When you finished recounting everything you took a deep breath, “But––this could all just be in my head you know, just me overreacting.”

She stared at you with a dead expression. “Are you fucking dumb?”

“Hey!”

She ignored you, rolling her eyes while she tried not to laugh. “Dude he totally wants to fuck you.” She said nonchalantly.

Your eyes bulged, “W–What do you––What?” 

“Oh please, it’s so obvious.”

You opened your mouth but when nothing came out, you paused and looked down at the carpet. After a few moments you looked back up at her to find her with a knowing smirk on her face. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am, when am I not?” When you were about to speak, she interrupted you. “Don’t answer that. But look, it seems like he’s into you. I think you should hit that.”

“But we––that’s not allowed!” You paused, “Is it?”

She laughed, “A ha! So you do want to!”

“Oh shut up, you already knew that. Everyone wants to, it’s not a big deal.”

She made a face, “Yes, but you’re the only one who actually has a chance at getting it.” 

You looked at her, a skeptical look on your face. “Even if that was true––he’s still my professor…”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah but it’s not like it’s in the handbook or anything. Plus, you’re both legal adults, so. There you have it. You’re free to bone.”

“You did not just say that.”

“But I did.” She smiled, lying down in her bed. “You really could, though. Just don’t tell anybody.” When you didn’t say anything else, she spoke up. “Okay I’m gonna take a nap now. You have a lot to think about.” 

You ignored the last part and went back to your phone, “Yeah you do that.” 

Throughout the rest of the afternoon and night you couldn’t stop thinking about this whole situation. This was bad...Or was it? It seemed all too complicated, that was for sure. You weren’t even sure he looked at you or thought of you that way. 

You fell asleep playing all the pros and cons of hypothetically getting with him, your mind an endless loop of your professor, his voice, how he sounded when he practically whispered that he liked being your teacher. This was all too much.

❊❊❊❊

All of your senses were in overdrive. All you could feel were the hands tracing every curve of your body, playing you like a toy they’d made themselves. The tongue, teeth and lips following and leaving marks everywhere the hands traced. All you could hear was that sweet, rough voice telling you praises and calling you endearing names as your whole body shivered from the pleasure. Your eyes locked in on the ones staring up at you with pure hunger and awe as you ground yourself down on his cock.

“That’s it darling, just like that. You’re doing so good for me.” His lips curved into that oh so familiar smirk. “I taught you well, didn’t I?”

You woke up sweaty, your shirt sticking to your torso, a wet patch on your panties, your nipples pebbled in the cool air of your dorm room. A sex dream. Of course you had a fucking sex dream about him. Fuck. You were just lucky that your next class with him was on Thursday so you didn’t have to see him today. Because that would not help you at all. 

You checked the time on your phone, squinting at the brightness before turning it all the way down, 10am. You got out of bed with a groan and took your toiletries bag and your towel to the bathroom, deciding to take a shower this morning, instead of later on at night. Lord knows you certainly needed one. A cold one too.

You were frustrated, frustrated with yourself for feeling this way about your professor––sure, he was only a few years older than you, but it was the principle of the matter––frustrated that you were overthinking this entire thing, and most importantly you were annoyed because you were extremely horny. 

When you got into the bathroom, you locked the door and set your stuff down. You put your hands on both sides of the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror. Who are we and what happened? You sighed and grabbed your toothbrush, brushing your teeth quickly and aggressively, since everything seemed to be a hassle this morning. You’d hoped that once you hopped in the shower, you’d calm down. 

When you made your way inside, you sighed contently at the feeling of the warm water pattering against your skin, freshening you up immediately. Your nipples were still hard, between your legs still wet. So you brought a hand down between your thighs, the other to your breast as you stood under the water––almost as though the water was washing away the sinful act and thoughts right at the source. You laughed at the thought, nope, nothing can wash this away. 

You squeezed your breast and tugged at your nipple, rubbing your sensitive bud just the way you liked. You were still sensitive from...your dream, so it didn’t take long for everything to build up. You couldn’t help yourself, your mind brought back the remnants of last night that you remembered, the way his hands gripped you when he steadied you, the way his arms looked, and you came with a whimper that was louder than you would have liked. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and resting your head back on the tiles as the water continued to fall on you. 

When you came back to your dorm, Liz was on her way out but she stopped, raising her brows at you, “So have you come to a conclusion?”

You walked past her into the dorm, “Go to class, Liz.” You heard her cackle down the hallway as you closed the door. 

You got dressed casually, not rushing since there was nowhere for you to go and decided to go to the local cafe near the school. You needed to clear your head and get some work done, and you definitely would not get any of it done in your dorm. Not today, anyway. 

You checked the weather and seeing that it was a little warmer today, you put a sweatshirt on, grabbed your bag along with your phone and your laptop and you were on your way. The breeze felt refreshing this morning as you stepped out of your dorm. Your walk to the cafe was only ten or so minutes but it felt good. 

Stepping into the little shop, you were immediately hit by the aroma of coffee and sweets, surrounded by the sound of light chatter and utensils clattering on the wooden tables. The warm light above you brought a sense of comfort as you made your way over to the counter. The line was rather short so you managed to order your usual drink and snack quickly. As you were waiting for the cashier to hand you your things, your eyes scanned the shop––the ambience was rather nice and the talking almost felt like background noises. You wouldn’t mind staying here to work.

As you gathered your things, you turned around in search of a free table––which would be the deciding factor in whether or not you would stay, you did not want to awkwardly share the small table space with some stranger. You took a few steps into the seating area and almost choked on your breath when you made eye contact with the last person you wanted to see today. 

He smiled charmingly at you, teeth and all and quickly made his way over before you even had a chance to think of escaping. “Y/N!” He stood in front of you, his eyes bright. He was actually happy to see you? He was always happy to see everyone, it didn’t mean anything. 

His voice snapped you out of your annoyingly loud thoughts.  “Fancy seeing you here.” He nudged you playfully, “How are you?” He was wearing a very tight white button up that was unbuttoned until the third, showing a generous amount of his chest, a grey suit and pants, along with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. It took you a few more seconds than it should have to process that there were actual words coming out of his mouth.  

You forced a smile onto your face but the more you looked into his eyes, the more genuine it became, almost impossible to wipe off. “I’m good. Was just grabbing breakfast before I start my work. You?”

He raised his cup, “Same as you. Have a bit of time before my next class.” 

You noticed that you couldn’t tell what exactly was in the cup and your curiosity got the better of you. You pointed to the cup clasped in his fingers, “Is that coffee?”

He furrowed his brows in mock offense, “I only drink tea, darling.” He leaned his upper body forward to whisper to you, his cheek almost touching yours, “I’d think you would know that about your favorite professor.” He tutted playfully as he stood up straight again, watching you, a look that you couldn’t quite pinpoint in his eyes as he watched you over his cup, taking a teasingly long sip. 

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open, not a clue what to respond. When he pulled the cup away from his mouth he looked down at you, his gaze drifting down and you’d never felt more exposed, despite the fact that you were wearing two layers of clothing. “I like your sweatshirt.” He smiled, glancing down at it before looking directly into your eyes, his head lowered slightly.

Your eyes widened in surprise and your head snapped down to see your spiderman sweatshirt looking back at you boldly. Oh––Oh. You lifted your head back up to find him still smiling at you softly, he didn’t seem to be teasing you at all. “Um thanks.” You could feel your cheeks heating up, despite the cool air that swept your legs as someone opened the door to the cafe. “Are you uh–– a marvel fan?” 

He pursed his lips playfully, “Yeah,” his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, “Yeah you could say that.” He licked his lips and took another sip of his drink.

Your eyes, with a mind of their own, trailed down the column of his throat, following the vein on the side of his neck, the way his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed the warm liquid. The action almost seemed provocative, in both meanings of the term. 

Suddenly you felt very hot and you knew that you had to get out of there before you made a fool of yourself in front of everyone, but most importantly him. You perked up, “I uh––I have to go professor, but it was nice talking with you. See you tomorrow!” With that you quite literally ran off, wincing as you turned around, having noticed the way his lips parted as if to speak, a furrow between his brows appearing out of confusion and concern. You really had to get control of yourself. 

You practically berated yourself as you speed walked away. God, that was so stupid. And not to mention, incredibly rude! He’d probably be upset with you now, or maybe even mad. It’s just––unbelievable what he did to you, without even actually doing anything. It took you the entire walk there to realize that you unconsciously made your way back to your dorm––so much for the library. But you’d had enough social interaction for today, so you decided you’d stay there.

You got in your bed and buried yourself under the covers, deciding you needed the comfort of being hidden in your mattress after the embarrassment you’d just experienced. You lied there just staring at the plain, white ceiling for way too long until you let out a loud huff and sat up, before grabbing your computer to start your work. 

Deciding to check your college email before you started, since they were incessant and it was easy to miss something, you scanned down the list of messages in your inbox. Your eyes skimmed through the boxes on the left of your screen, notifications that your professors left feedback on your assignments, the weekly newsletter, club events, a message from Holland, Tom––

You shut your computer immediately, eyes bulging as you held your breath. You swallowed thickly, as you stared into nothing in front of you, your eyes barely taking in anything, your mind a big ball of fuzz. 

After taking a few deep breaths, and telling your overdramatic brain to calm down, you opened the laptop again. Biting your lip, you hovered your mouse over the message, reading over the small bits of information you could see in the preview.

Holland, Tom

Just checking in

Hi Y/N, I just wanted to make  …

You could feel your heart beating through your chest. Oh God––Wanted to make sure what?? The sensible part of your brain said to just open it to figure it out for yourself. But the irrational, idiotic part of your brain was yelling at you to not open it under any circumstance. What if he wanted to make sure you didn’t get the wrong idea? Did he know how you felt about him? Were you that obvious? Maybe he thinks you’re clinically insane and wants to make sure you’re getting the attention you need? You did run off like a crazy person, after all. 

You shut your eyes tight and groaned loudly into your hands. Liz walked in and whistled lowly, taking in everything in front of her. You looked up, confused and looked at the time, realizing it had already been two hours since you first left the dorm, meaning she was done with her classes for the day.

“What’s up?” She took a seat at her desk, propping her legs on the table as she leaned back.

You waved her off, deciding it would be best to let this blow over and ignore it for now. You’d go back when you were in the right state of mind. 

She started telling you about her day and annoyingly, your brain decided today would be the day that it would not shut off. Your brows were furrowed as you tried your best to focus on what your friend was saying, but she wasn’t even looking in your direction, staring up into the air above her as she spoke animated, hands waving around, so she didn’t even notice you struggling to pay attention. 

Your eyes kept flitting back to the screen of your computer, your fingers swiping across the trackpad to turn it back on when the screen’s brightness lowered every now and then. 

Liz looked back at you and stopped her spiel. “Alright what’s up with you?” 

You sighed deeply and looked up at her. “Sorry, sorry. I just––I saw Professor Holland today––”

“Already?” She interrupted you, a goofy smile on her face. “Damn, you work fast.”

You threw the nearest pillow at her, “Shut up! I didn’t fuck him.”

“You should’ve.” She pointed out, holding the pillow to her chest. 

You glared at her until she raised her hands in surrender, then continued, your eyes bouncing from object to object in the room as you babbled. 

“I went to the cafe and I saw him and he came over to me and we started talking––and he whispered in my ear and he was joking around with me and he sipped his tea and he was super close to me and super hot, and I couldn’t handle it so I basically ran off without giving him a chance to say bye.” You took a deep breath, “And then he sent me an email after I saw him and I still haven’t opened it because I’m scared and I don’t know what he said…” You took another breath and looked at your friend, blinking as she just stared at you.

After a moment, she spoke up. “Dude just open the email.”

Your eyes widened almost in offense. “Did you not listen to anything I just said?”

“Yeah you practically fucked in the cafe then you got scared and ran away.” She spoke nonchalantly and you could tell she was fighting off a smile. “Look, eventually you have to open the email anyway, you can’t just ignore it. So just do it and rip the bandaid off.” You were about to speak up when she interrupted you, “I promise it won’t be half as bad as you think. We both know your mind is absolutely filled with the craziest ideas.” 

You huffed and fell back down on the bed, not bothering to argue since you both knew she was right. 

“Shit, I’m starving.” She looked at the time, “Yeah it’s about time for me to eat food.” She stood up, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Can you please get something for me?” She knew you well enough that you didn’t have to tell her what to get. You gave her your best smile and shrugged your shoulders.

“Are you serious.” She looked at you, deadpan, standing like the little emoji of the woman standing in place with her arms at her sides. 

You had to suppress your smile, “What if I see him?” You asked incredulously, lying further in the covers. “I’d rather stay in here and hide, for now.”

“You have class with him tomorrow––”

“That’s why I said for now.”

She cracked a smile, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her things, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Love you!”

“Yeah yeah,” she waved her hand and walked out the door. 

A few moments passed after Liz left and you sat up yet again, putting your computer on your lap as you swiped the trackpad, making the screen light up again. You checked the time, it had been almost an hour since he sent the email, you really shouldn’t make him wait any longer. Not that he’s waiting at all, he probably didn’t even notice that you hadn’t responded.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, swallowed your nerves and clicked on the email. 

Holland, Tom

Just checking in

Hi Y/N, 

I just wanted to make sure everything was alright. You seemed kind of stressed when you left earlier and I’m hoping it wasn’t because of anything I did. Can we check in tomorrow in my office? Hope everything is going well. 

Warmest Regards,

Professor Holland

He wanted to meet tomorrow after class. In his office. Alone. 

Oh, fuck. You could hear Liz in your head going Yes, fuck. But you quickly shoved her aside. 

You read over the email about five times to make sure you weren’t misinterpreting anything, because that would be even more embarrassing. You clicked the reply button and slowly wrote out your response.

Hi Professor Holland,

Everything is fine, but thank you for asking, I appreciate the concern. I’m free tomorrow after class if you’re available then.

Thank you!

Y/N

You hit send and not even two minutes later, you received a response. 

Hi Y/N,

Perfect! I’ll see you then :)

Warmly,

Professor Holland

How on earth were you supposed to focus on your work now? More importantly, how were you going to focus in class tomorrow?

❊❊❊❊

The next day, the butterflies in your stomach would not calm down. When you stepped into the class, he was talking to another student and you tried to sneak past to your seat unnoticed. You thought you’d succeeded but once you sat down and looked up, you made direct eye contact with him and you swear you stopped breathing. You barely even recognized the sound of everyone moving around you, getting ready for class to start. 

He parted his lips and reluctantly turned back to the student still talking to him, snapping out of his daze, but not after glancing back at you. You swallowed and sank down in your seat. This was going to be a long class. 

At 1:35, class started. Professor Holland stood up and clasped his hands, making his way to the middle of the floor in front of everybody, his voice reverberating through the room. 

“Good afternoon everybody. Hope you’re all doing well.” His eyes found yours and you bit your lip nervously. You could see him swallow as he watched you, before moving his gaze elsewhere. Was that because of you? Surely, it had to be a coincidence. Maybe you made him uncomfortable. Oh great––

He went on, seemingly unfazed, eyes darting back to you subtly before continuing. The discussion soon turned to the book you’d just been assigned to read. The book was rather lengthy but there were always so many things to talk about within only a few pages––which you loved, so it was taking you all a while to go through everything together in class. 

The conversations often took up a lot of the class time since Professor Holland simply loved talking and he always found everyone’s interpretations interesting and worth exploring––eager to hear our classmates perspectives. He also often said that he was not good at using technology, so he preferred to just talk and show rather than use his computer. Honestly, you found it endearing.

The conversations were always interesting to listen to, people never failed to give you insight on things you hadn’t even thought of before, but sometimes––some people were just a little stupid.

Someone brought up a slightly sexist point that made absolutely no sense but since you weren’t the one to call someone out in front of a room full of people, you stuck to your facial reactions instead of audibly responding. You turned back to the front of the class to see Professor Holland’s opinion to find that he was watching you, trying and failing to suppress his smile. 

He put both hands in his pockets which you found ironic considering they would jump out any time soon––he loved to talk with his hands. His eyes got serious, the smile on his face a little less friendly as he addressed the sophomore who made the comment. “I don’t know if you’re aware of how ludicrously sexist that comment you just made was, but now you know.” He turned to the rest of the class. “Remember to think before you speak. This isn’t to necessarily call anyone out. It’s a warning. Senseless remarks will not only affect my view of you, but your grades as well.” 

He went on and tried to shape the boy’s comment into something appropriate to discuss and you honestly couldn’t focus on anything else he said, you were just looking at him in awe and in shock. Sure, this was the bare minimum, but since it was so rare to see, it was very noticeable and even impressive when you noticed it.

God, you adored this man.

Near the end of class, he announced the next assignment, a paper you’d have to write about a comparison you made between any point in the story, a character, a theme, a hidden meaning, etc. and something in our modern reality, a social norm, a popular belief, etc. Your essays were always very open ended in this class, giving you room to write about almost anything you wanted to. Your professor knew that the assignments would be more enjoyable if there was some choice involved. He truly was good at his job. 

“Look, reading’s hard sometimes, I get it. I’m dyslexic, so trust me, I understand. But I never let that stop me.” He paused to look around the room and it was so silent you could hear each other’s inhales and exhales. The power he had over a room full of around one hundred people was insane, and in a weird way, also turned you on. “I know the book is massive. Listen to the audio books if you have to, I don’t mind. But get the work done either way. It’s not for me, it’s for you. I want you to get the best grade you can in this class.”

“Bring me interesting material. I don’t want to fall asleep reading your work.” He joked and smiled proudly when laughter filled the room. “The essay is due in two weeks. Good luck.”

There were a few thank you’s and goodbyes scattered around the room as he sent everyone off, people scurrying from all sides to the exits. 

You took your time gathering all your things and took a deep breath when the last few people made their way out, silence soon surrounding the both of you. You put your bag over your shoulder and walked down the carpeted steps, suddenly finding the dark grey pattern to be the most interesting things you’ve ever seen––and also watching your steps so that you don’t fall down them in front of him. You could barely hear the soft patter of your shoes as you walked down. When you finally got the main floor you looked up and saw him waiting for you patiently, things in his hands, a smile on his face. 

“Let’s go then, shall we?” You nodded shyly and he led the way, his office only a hallway away from the lecture hall. You found it slightly odd that he didn’t try to make conversation on your way there, since he always loved to. But you tried not to think too hard about it. Maybe he was just tired. 

When you reached his office, he opened the door and let you walk in first. Your eyes immediately scanned the room out of curiosity as you stepped inside, noticing his desk, the wood a dark mahogany which was covered with stacks of papers, picture frames, pens, and a few marvel funko pops––so he really was a fan. You’d never actually been inside of his office before. It was an intimidating thought for you to be in his office with him, alone. You just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. 

You turned to him and gestured to the chair across from his desk, “Do I just––”

“Please,” he interrupted eagerly. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

You took a seat and he set his things down next to his desk before sitting as well. His hair was coiffed to perfection today, curls sculpted nicely, a dark blue suit on his body with a black shirt underneath. He took off the suit jacket and put it on the back of his chair and you could see his veins and muscles bulging and shifting in his arms as he moved. He clasped his hands in front of him on the desk and wow he had nice fingers. You really had to get a grip on yourself––

“How was class today for you? Well, besides that one disappointing comment.”

You smiled, “I always enjoy the class, but yeah that was uh, disappointing as you said.

“I think your interpretations are always very insightful and very interesting. It’s almost a shame that you don’t share them with the whole class but part of me likes it that we keep them between us.” Oh? “Plus, I know how scary it can be talking in front of all those people. I almost shit myself first time I taught that class––”

You let out a surprised laughter and he couldn’t help laugh as well. 

“Shit, sorry! I mean––” He sighed, “Language, sorry. I’m British.” He shrugged, “Can’t help it.”

You shook your head, “It’s okay. Personally I think curse words spice up conversations.” You smiled proudly when he laughed at your joke. 

His smile radiated a more nervous energy after his laughter died off. “When you ran off yesterday, that wasn’t––was that because of me? Because if I did something to make you uncomfortable I’m so sorry.”

You tilted your head, trying to think of a way to explain. “No it wasn’t, well––it kind of was?” You had no idea why you would tell him this, but apparently your mouth was moving without agreeing with your mind first. 

There was almost a pout on his face and you had the sudden urge to reach over the table and smooth it out with your lips. “It’s just, well––You make me just a little bit nervous, to be honest professor.” You looked down at your lap and back up at him timidly.

He raised his brows, “Oh––”

Your smile was strained and you wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole by the floor. 

“Well that’s not a bad thing, is it?” He looked at you almost, hopefully?

You laughed, “No trust me, it’s not.” Your eyes widened at the realization of what you’d basically just admitted to him and you didn’t know if you should feel embarrassed or relieved when the smirk appeared on his face.

But the words that he uttered next cleared that up for you. “Well, if I’m honest, you make me nervous too, darling. And definitely not in a bad way.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, almost teasing you with how good he looked.

You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, crossing your legs, your thighs squeezing together, and he definitely noticed, his eyes trailing down your body as he licked his lips as well. 

The tension in the room was so thick but you found that you didn’t want to escape it, if anything you wanted to carve your way through it, stay for as long as you could until it snapped. 

Your professor spread his legs, his hands coming down to rub at his thighs as he watched you and the sound of your heartbeat pounding filled your ears. It was almost as if there was an unseen force pulling the two of you together, but before it could there was a knock at the door. 

The both of your heads snapped to the door to find it opening slowly. Jacob, Tom’s teaching assistant popped his head in. You had talked to him a few times, he was always very nice. He didn’t attend every class, but you guessed that he would be attending the next one. “Hey man.” He turned to you and smiled, “Oh hi Y/N.” You waved and let out a small hi in response. He turned back to the professor. “Your next class is starting like––” He looked at his watch. “Now.” 

“Shit, sorry man. Lost track of time.” He got up and you did too, smiling sheepishly as you grabbed your things, getting up from your seat. “I’ll be right there.” Jacob nodded and closed the door.

You both made your way over to the exit slowly, still reeling from what maybe could have happened and what you both obviously thought of. The silence was loud around you, but it wasn’t scary this time. 

“Let me know if you need any help with the upcoming assignment, alright? Don’t be afraid to stop by if you need to.” His gaze dropped down to your lips for a split second before reaching your eyes again. “For anything.” He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t describe but quickly tried to mask it with a smile as he opened the door for you, his eyes practically holding yours captive. 

“Thank you, professor. I will.” 

You stepped out and he watched you for a few moments before closing the door. You looked back, smiling as you caught his eye and as soon as he stepped back in the office, you practically ran out of the building and to your dorm, a stupid grin on your face. 

“Holy shit.”

❊❊❊❊

When you practically burst into your dorm room, scaring Liz half to death before you told her what happened, let’s just say she wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“I fucking told you!” She flopped onto her bed, still staring at you pointedly as she did so, a smirk on her face. She pointed at you before dropping her hand down dramatically by her side. “You like, owe me a soda now or something.” 

You rolled your eyes but you were so giddy the smile still hadn’t dropped from your face. “Well I do owe you for getting me lunch yesterday, so maybe I will buy you one.”

❊❊❊❊

Over the weekend, you started working on the essay for British Literature and you were already about halfway done since the topic you chose actually interested you. But you found yourself questioning if you were writing it properly as you went on. You weren’t sure if it was because you wanted it to be near perfect since you’d found out he paid extra attention to you, or maybe you just wanted to talk to him again––you’d never know. 

After discussing with Liz, you decided you’d stop by his office on Monday afternoon once you were done with your classes. You knew he liked to stay in his office until late at night sometimes, he always said we could stop by whenever, if we needed something. So you decided to take advantage of that, shoving down your anxious thoughts and doing what you wanted. 

Liz may or may not have convinced you to wear a shirt that was––aesthetically pleasing, to put it, specifically in the chest area so you were more than eager to see your professor’s reaction. You were a little nervous, you didn’t want it to seem like you were trying too hard, but you thought you looked good in this shirt, and you had a right to feel good about yourself. Since it was a little chilly outside, you hid it under a sweatshirt for now.

You got to his office and found yourself staring at the dark wood, hesitating to knock on. After taking a deep breath you rapped your knuckles against the door. 

You heard a faint Come in! And you took a deep breath and opened the door slowly to find him sitting at his desk, “Hi Professor Holland.” He was finishing some notes on a student’s essay but his head snapped up immediately at the sound of your voice.

He dropped his pen and sat up, “Please,” he motioned to the seat across from his desk and you smiled gratefully before settling down. “What can I do for you? Everything alright?”

His eyes looked sincere and concerned and you could feel your insides melting a little bit. 

“I just––I really want to do well on this essay,” He nodded for you to continue, “But I’m just not sure if I’m going in the right direction.”

 He nodded understandingly, “Well let’s have a look, shall we?”

You reached down to grab your things when he stood up and walked past you, your eyes following him in confusion. He gestured to the couch, a somewhat impish smile on his face. “Just thought it would be more comfortable––and easier for us to look together, of course.”

You nodded, a small smile on your face as you picked up your bag and sat next to him on the couch. “Right, of course.” It was a loveseat so there wasn’t much room for either of you to distance yourselves.

You got out your computer and opened up the essay. You had already opened it before you got there, not wanting to have to awkwardly wait for it to load. Yes, you overthought things but––it helped sometimes. “I see you came prepared,” he joked and you couldn’t help but smile. He really did notice everything, didn’t he.

“Well I’m really confident about the topic of my essay, I think it’s interesting. But I feel like I may be adding too much into the paper, and I’m not sure if I’m overthinking things or if I should take some things out.” 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. I meant it when I said I appreciate having you in my class, you know. I always love reading your work. You write well.” 

“Thank you, professor.” Though you saw his eyes darken at the title, he commented on it.

“You can call me Tom when we’re alone, darling. No need for formalities.”

“But I like calling you professor––” Your hand shot up to cover your mouth and you spoke before he could, ignoring his smile, “I mean um. Tom––Okay I can try that.”

His tongue passed under his teeth, a devilish smirk on his face as he watched you squirm under his gaze. “No you know, now I think professor is growing on me.”

You pursed your lips, rolling your eyes. “Prof––Tom.”

He raised his hands in surrender, “Alright alright.” 

“Why don’t you read it to me? It’s easier to see where you can improve when you hear it out loud.”

You swallowed nervously, nodding your head as you brought your laptop closer to you. “O––Okay.”

You started reading your paper out loud, voice becoming slightly steadier as you went on, two fingers scrolling up the trackpad. He made comments as you read, only praise––and with each compliment you felt yourself getting hotter. Very good. Always write so well. Nice point there. Mhm. Good girl, that’s an excellent point. He shifted his way closer to you gradually as you read on and when his thigh touched yours, you had to tell yourself not to jump from the contact.  

He placed his arm on the back of the couch, basically around your shoulder and you had to smush down the urge to throw your computer and climb into his lap. His thighs did look very inviting with the way he was sitting, though. 

He moved closer to you and you could feel his breath cascading down over your shoulder as he brought his hand to the trackpad, his arm over your thigh, fingers scrolling through to where he had a few suggestions. 

When he finished his few remarks, you could hear the proud smile in his voice. “See, I knew it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought. You’re a good writer...” He paused and you turned your head slightly to find his lips mere inches from yours, his eyes trained on your mouth. His words were barely a whisper when he spoke up again, “A good student.” You both leaned in slowly and his hand came up to hold your cheek lightly. “Bet you’d be a good girl for me too.” 

You gasped lightly and leaned forward, giving in and finally pressing your lips to his, both your hands grabbing his jaw. He moaned immediately, his body pressing into yours as you twisted to face him, his other hand coming around your waist to pull you in. You felt your laptop slipping off your thighs and squeaked, making the both of you laugh and pull away, flustered. 

“Careful, love.” Tom grabbed the computer and put it down on the floor gently, confirming that you saved your work before pushing the lid closed. 

The air in the room was hot, thanks to Tom in general, but also thanks to what you just did. So you pulled away and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Tom’s pout when he thought you were getting up to leave. Since there wasn’t much space on the couch, you stood up to take your hoodie off and you heard his breath hitch when his eyes fell upon the shirt you were wearing. “Christ-”

“Now what’s this?” Tom said almost to himself, his eyes staring at you in wonder and awe. “Never seen this little number before.” He noticed the clothes you wore? His hands were already aching to feel you again, reaching out for you subconsciously and you bit your lip to calm your smile as you sat back down, letting your sweater fall to the floor softly. 

“What, this old thing?” You joked, looking down at the shirt––yeah, you looked good. “You like it?” You looked up at him, a cheekily innocent look in your eyes.

He put his hands around your waist and pulled you into his lap, enjoying the gasp it elicited from you. You put your hands gingerly on his shoulders and the way he was looking up at you made you never want to leave this position ever again. You tilted your head and licked your lips and Tom couldn’t take it anymore, he kissed you again, hands gripping you firmly, anchoring you to him. He pulled away after a good while, wanting to look at you again, his lips parted, practically panting like an animal. You really had an effect on him, but he did the same to you. 

His eyes were taking you in, basically capturing a mental image for later. “God, you look heavenly, darling.” You squirmed in his lap and bit your lip when you felt a bulge growing underneath you. He leaned forward and left a trail of kisses on the tops of your breasts, leaving a few teasing nips and sucks here and there. You squealed, your hands coming up to run your fingers through his hair. You pulled his head up by his hair and the look in his eyes looked absolutely feral––like he wanted to eat you. 

You were about to lean in and kiss him again when a knock at the door surprised the both of you. You both jumped off of the couch as Tom threw out excuses. “Yeah just a second!” You straightened out your shirt as Tom did the same to his pants and you picked up your things. 

When he saw that you were settled, he took a deep breath and answered the door. His colleague and best friend Professor Osterfield, was standing there, a grin on his face. “You div, are you ever going to be on time for our monthly meetings?––” He stood up straight when he noticed you standing behind Tom. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.” He looked between the two of you and it seemed as though he pieced everything together. Maybe Tom had told him about you? If he did, you wouldn’t be worried Tom didn’t seem like the type to tell unreliable people his business––and they were best friends after all.

You smiled at him in acknowledgement as moved aside to let you pass. “Sorry,” you looked between the both of them, “I’ll let you get to whatever you have to go to.” You looked at Tom once you were out of his office, “Thank you for the feedback, professor.”

You could see him fighting off his smirk before he replied, “Of course.” His stare was impenetrable as he looked at you, “Feel free to come by whenever.” You could see the hidden meaning in his words and let the hint of a smile show, before nodding and walking off.

Harrison looked at him, a pitiful smile on his face. “I hope you know what you’re doing, mate. You should be careful, for the both of you.”

Tom sighed, not wanting to have this conversation. “I know, man. Let’s go.” 

❊❊❊❊

You found yourself missing Tom as soon as you left. God, this was kind of pathetic. But at least your feelings weren’t necessarily one sided––he did say you made him nervous too after all. You doubt he’d say that if he just wanted to fuck you––he was better than most men. And sure you might be a little biased, but at the end of the day he had a good heart and he was educated. So bonus. 

When you stepped into your dorm, your roommate was sitting on her bed, snacks in hand as she looked at you expectantly. “Now these,” she gestured to the food on her bed, “are either for a story time, to rebuild your energy or both.” 

You laughed and changed into your pajamas, starting to tell your best friend about everything that just happened. She often interrupted with her reactions and comments.

Oh. My. God.

Shut. Up.

You’re fucking lying! 

“But we didn’t fuck.”

“Boo––”

“Yes, boo.” You laughed, “Professor Osterfield knocked at the door and dragged him off to a meeting so.” You shrugged.

“Professor Osterfield...is that the hot blond one?” You nodded and she continued expressing her feelings for the man. “I’d let him teach me a few things––”

“Literally bye.”

She laughed, “What? Come on have you seen him––”

“I’m a little preoccupied with another professor to be honest.”

She nodded, handing you a bag of chips as you settled in your bed. “True. And oh how lucky you are.” You smiled in agreement. 

❊❊❊❊

Today was the day the essay was due and though you normally handed it in at the beginning of class, for once, you didn’t and you could feel Tom’s gaze following you as you walked up the steps to your seat without so much as a glance in his direction. You’d stopped by his office a few times over the past two weeks since Harrison interrupted you, but you never did anything more than kissing and grinding. You were both too scared of getting caught, but that doesn’t mean you hadn’t thought about doing more in there.  

Tom liked to have physical copies of the essays, just in case technology decides it’s against him (his words), so everyone had until 8pm tonight to drop it off by his office. You were definitely going to use that to your advantage. 

You didn’t wear anything provocative to class, you didn’t really want that kind of attention today, plus you knew that Tom’s interest in you wasn’t solely based on your appearance. So you put the revealing items on under your clothing. And honestly, the thought that no one knew what you were wearing underneath it all only excited you even further. 

You crossed your legs, relieving your tension and biting your lip as class went on, enjoying how flustered Tom would be every time he looked at you. You felt so submissive when you were alone with him, but when you were in public like this? Free to tease him subtly from a distance? That’s where you had all the power. 

You had him blushing and stuttering throughout the whole class, though it wouldn’t have been easy for everyone else to notice, for you it was so obvious. He kept rubbing his hands together, pacing around as his eyes darted to you every few minutes. At one point he went over to sit down at his desk, which he rarely did while teaching––and you were fairly certain it was to hide a bulge in his pants. All thanks to you. 

In the middle of the class, you felt your phone vibrate in your bag and pulled it out just to see if it was an emergency. You were pleasantly surprised and could feel your whole body react when you noticed who the message was from.

Tom: Having fun, are you?

Your eyes shot up to the front of the room and you bit your lip to contain your smile when you noticed him glaring at you.

Y/N: I always have fun in this class, professor ;)

You put your phone away afterwards and focused on the class, knowing it was killing Tom that you weren’t giving him more attention. Your heart was racing and your panties had a wet patch by the time class was over. You had a feeling he was going to try to keep you after class, so you hurried up and gathered your things, sighing in relief when a few students went up to his desk to talk to him. 

You smirked to yourself and headed straight for the door, your head high on your shoulders. But just as you were about two feet from the exit, Tom spoke up. 

“I assume I’ll be seeing you later, Miss Y/L/N?”

You turned around, eyes slightly widening as you noticed him, the group of students near him.

He smirked slyly, “To turn in your paper, remember?” His eyes were giving you a knowing look.

You swallowed, nodding as you smiled at him innocently. “Of course, professor.” You enjoyed the way his eyes darkened only slightly, only noticeable to you. “See you then.” With that you walked out.

❊❊❊❊

You practically skipped to his office at around 7:45, before knocking at the door, four knocks in a specific pattern––the code you’d made together. 

“Come in, darling!”

You walked in and quickly shut the door, a chuckle escaping you. “You know someone could hear you from the outside one day, right?”

He shrugged, “I’ll just blame it on my accent. Could call everyone darling, they don’t know any better.”

You laughed. “Okay well––Professor Holland,” you said, loving the way he looked at you when you uttered his title. “I brought this for you.” You took out the printed essay and placed it on his desk.

He pushed his chair out, his eyes following your every move as he spread his legs. “Oh is that right?” 

You took the invitation and took your reserved seat in his lap, linking your arms around his neck as you looked down at him. “Mhm, still want a good grade in this class you know. You are my favorite professor after all.”

He smirked smugly, licking his lips. “And you,” he kissed your lips before pulling away briefly, “Are my favorite girl.” He brought his hands up your back and pulled you into him as he kissed you again. This time, longer and deeper, wanting to feel you as much as possible. “Teased me so much in class today.” You smiled into the kiss and he continued, “Almost wanted to take you over my knee right there in front of everyone.” 

You moaned audibly and he brought his hand up to your neck, gripping you softly but firmly, giving you room to pull away if you didn’t approve. When you leaned further into his grip, he grinned and pulled you closer. You started grinding down on him, basking in the desperate groans and sighs you were coaxing out of him, the way his movements became more frantic as he bucked into you. 

After debating with yourself in your head for a moment––struggling to think properly with his hands all over you, you got off of his lap and smiled at the small whines of protest he let out before reaching for his belt. You made eye contact with him and noticed how wide his eyes were, hopeful, hungry, but hesitant. 

His hands reached for yours, “You don’t have to, darling. If anything I should be doing this first. God knows I’ve thought about it.”

You pouted, trying your best to ignore his words and focus on the task at hand. “But I want to,” you kissed his cheek, “I wanna make you feel good, professor.” He nodded, barely able to speak.

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl for me?” 

You nodded eagerly, licking your lips as he pulled himself out of his trousers. “More than anything. Wanna make up for earlier.” You got down on your knees, mouth practically salivating at the way his member stood tall against his abdomen, his tip leaking with precum. 

Your hand wrapped around him just as a knock sounded at the door. Professor?

The both of your eyes widened, the both of you looking around for some sort of answer before he ushered you under the desk, tucking himself back in hastily, pulling his chair as much as he could and sitting at the edge, hiding his unbuttoned and unbuckled pants. Luckily for the both of you, the back of the desk reached the floor, so whoever it was wouldn’t be able to see you hiding underneath. “Uh––Come in!”

The person walked in and you recognized the sound of her voice, she often spoke up in the lectures. You couldn’t remember her name, though. You do, however, remember that she often spoke up only to get Tom’s attention. You’d heard her gush about him in the halls just outside his class in the hopes of him hearing her. You couldn’t blame her, but the thought still irked you. “I just wanted to give you my paper. I hope it’s not too late.” 

Tom checked the time on his watch, 7:58. “Nope,” he laughed breathlessly, trying to compose himself, “Not too late at all, in fact just in time.” 

She handed her paper to Tom and he gave her a tight-lipped smile, trying his best not to think about the fact that your hands were trailing up his thighs and that he could feel your warm breath hitting the exposed part of his member––he really hadn’t payed attention when he tucked himself back in. 

Before he could send the girl who’s name you still hadn’t remembered off, she took a seat across from him and he swallowed nervously, a little frustrated since he was so close to getting his cock in his girl’s mouth. 

It seemed that you somehow read his thoughts because as soon as the girl kept talking for another two minutes, you pulled his member out and stroked him, licking up his shaft and he tensed, taking every ounce of self control he had not to look down at you. His hand reached down and held your cheek gently, just wanting to feel you. You nuzzled into his palm and he had to bite his lip to suppress his smile, not wanting the student across from him to think his endearing expression was meant for her. 

You honestly completely tuned out all the words she was saying, your sole focus pleasuring Tom. But you didn’t miss the flirty and falsely innocent tone in her voice. You couldn’t see her but she was no doubt batting her eyelashes at him as well. 

When she made a comment about how good his shirt looked on him, you couldn’t help yourself, you sucked his tip into your mouth with no warning, making him groan unexpectedly. You paused, eyes wide and playful as your mouth stayed around him.

“Are you okay professor?” 

He let out a strained smile, “Yes, Emma, Sorry––” So her name was Emma. “I just uh banged my knee on the desk.”

She hummed a small okay and went on.

He caught your eye, trying his best to keep his expression neutral, but boy was it hard. Especially when you were looking up at him like that, with his cock in your mouth. You licked around his tip and lowered your mouth around him and he had to force himself to focus on the girl who was still talking to him.

You were not playing fair but quite frankly you didn’t care. You were making him feel good and yourself too. Your hand was pumping him, your tongue swirling around him as quietly as you could, while your other hand found its place between your thighs. 

In the middle of Emma’s speech, Tom’s eyes drifted down and widened, his breath getting caught in his throat when he noticed your other hand, moving between your legs. He stuttered out an excuse, unable to tear his eyes away from you for a moment, “Uh, Emma I’m so sorry––I just have so much work to do, but feel free to come back––” he paused to swallow when you sucked harder around him in reaction to his invitation. “Come back next week if you have any problems or anything else you’d like to discuss.”

She hesitantly but respectfully said goodbye and was on her way, closing the door behind her.

Tom’s hands immediately shot down to hold your head, his mouth dropped open as he watched you, approaching his high. “Shit, that’s it darling that’s it. So fucking good for me.”

“I’m gonna cum––” he warned. You simply hummed around him and sped up your movements, feeling yourself clench as he panted, his hips bucking slightly as he came into your mouth. You unfortunately weren’t able to cum but you were sure there’d be other chances. You popped off of him and swallowed his load before licking up his length teasingly slow. “Fuck, such a good girl.”

He pulled his chair out and brought you up to stand between his legs, tiling his head to look up at you, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs absentmindedly. “Was someone a little jealous?”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant but failing to fix your annoyed facial expression. “Maybe.”

He tucked himself back into his pants and stood up, chuckling as he squeezed your cheek. “I’m yours.” He pecked your lips, before looking in your eyes, “And I’m most definitely repaying the favor when we get home. I mean––if you want to, of course.” Home. 

You couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah––Okay.” 

You’d never been to Tom’s house before so this felt like sort of a big deal to you, but you were going to try and calm your racing thoughts and heart. You and Tom agreed that you would go around the corner of the building for him to pick you up in his car, not wanting to risk anyone seeing you.

As soon as you were settled in, seatbelt on, Tom drove off and honestly the thrill of having to hide was exciting to the both of you. His hand was gripping your thigh throughout the whole drive and you could tell it was meant as a reminder that he was there for you, but also that he could barely contain himself. 

Seeing Tom drive you, the flashing street lights illuminating his face, highlighting his jawline, his hand gripping your thigh––this was a sight you knew you wanted to see more. The intimacy of it all made you warm inside and the feeling of Tom’s fingertips digging into your skin only riled you up further.

You leaned over to kiss his cheek and he smiled at the feeling of your soft lips drifting over his skin. “Darling––” His words were cut off by a harsh moan when you trailed your lips down to his sweet spot, the noise almost too loud for the quiet, tense air in the car.

You teased, licked and bit at his skin, not afraid to leave marks. It was Friday now, if anyone saw them on Monday, they would just assume he’d had an eventful weekend. Honestly, the thought that no one would know that you were the one who left those marks excited you––it would be a secret between you and Tom, a thing for the two of you to share on your own.

Tom’s hands were now gripping the wheel and your thigh with force, trying to get his bearings. “You’re being very naughty today, love. Can’t say that I don’t love it though.”

You smiled sinfully into his neck, continuing your actions. Your hand slid over his thigh teasingly slow to rest on his bulge, fingers squeezing ever so softly and he practically jolted in his seat. “Christ––love unless you want me to crash this car I suggest you stop.”

You pulled away, satisfied with how much you’d riled him up. He almost whined at the loss of contact, subconsciously upset that you’d actually stopped. But as your hand reached back down to find its place between your thighs, his tone shifted. 

“Don’t you dare touch what’s mine. That’s my job.”

You actually felt a shiver pass through your body and you squeezed your thighs together at the sound of his dominant voice, excited for what was to come.

When you made it to his apartment, you barely had time to take in the scenery and take off your shoes and jackets before he dragged you to his room. But from what you saw, the decor was simple but elegant, much like Tom. His bedroom was the same, but again, you weren’t too focused on it.

He turned on the dim light in his room, wanting to be able to see you as he pleased you. He stepped closer to you and placed his hands on your waist, looking deep into your eyes. “You still want this?” 

You nodded absolutely certain. “Want you to take me.”

His pupils dilated and he pulled your shirt up and over your head, licking his lips, eyes widening when he noticed what you were wearing and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Christ, were you wearing this all day?” 

You nodded again. “The underwear’s matching too. Wanna see?”

He got down on his knees, a teasing but desperate tone to his voice. “You’re a smart girl, don’t ask stupid questions.” He unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down along with your socks, mouth dropping open as he got to see the full set. 

You ran your hands up and down your body teasingly as he stood up. “Do you like it?”

He shook his head, smiling in disbelief, “Again with the silly questions, love.” He leaned in to kiss you, pulling away to take off his clothes. “You look like a goddess, darling.” You could feel your skin heating up from his words and his stare. He pulled you in for another kiss before bringing you onto the bed.

You lied down in the middle and spread your legs, waiting for him eagerly as he lied down between them. “Can’t fucking wait to taste you, love.” 

He pulled your panties over to the side and licked into you, his tongue softly swiping through your folds. His eyes rolled back as he moaned into you, “Taste just as perfect as you look.” He slid his hands around your thighs and pulled you in closer, smiling at the small squeak you let out.

His tongue was exploring you, finding all the spots and all the tricks that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. He was keeping this all to memory, memorizing the way you feel, the way you look. When your breaths quickened and your fingers tugged at his curls, he locked his arm around your stomach, slid one, then two fingers inside of you and sped up his movements, moving his head from side to side as he hummed onto your clit. 

Your body tensed and you held onto him for dear life as the knot in your stomach gave out, the pleasure spreading all throughout your body. Your mouth dropped open in ecstasy, your neck craning back and Tom couldn’t look away from you. You looked like a painting and he wanted to commit it to memory. 

He let go of you and kissed his way up your body, soothing you with his lips. Your legs were still twitching slightly, your stomach clenching and unclenching when his kisses reached your cheek. “Look so pretty when you come for me.” He kissed along your jaw, “Can’t believe you’ve deprived me of such a beautiful sight for so long.” He kissed your lips and tugged your bottom one between his teeth, before looking at you, eyes wide, “You gonna give me the privilege of seeing it again?” 

You smiled, your hands coming up to hold his cheeks. “You can see it whenever you want. As long as you’re the one making it happen.” You pulled him to you and kissed him, the both of you moaning into the small gaps between your mouths. 

He started to pull away but you whined and pulled him back making him smile. “I’ve gotta get a condom, love.”

He tried to get up again but you pulled him back down, “M’on the pill Tommy.” You looked up at him, pouting and he almost gasped––the effect you had on him was insane. “Just fuck me please.”

He didn’t need anymore convincing, grabbing a hold of his cock and swiping it through your folds, groaning out loud at how good your wetness felt. You bucked your hips and realizing you were getting desperate, he finally slid into you and all your senses immediately tuned into him. 

Just like your dream––All of your senses were in overdrive. All you could feel were the hands tracing every curve of your body, playing you like a toy they’d made themselves. All you could hear was that sweet, rough voice telling you praises and calling you endearing names as your whole body shivered from the pleasure. 

His eyes were watching your face, taking you in as he thrusted into you, making sure you were enjoying everything he was giving you. You felt absolutely amazing and so did he. “So perfect for me, darling. That’s it.” He bit his lip and sped up, making your jaw drop as you stared into his eyes, completely open and vulnerable to him. His touch was tantalizing, even better than your fantasies which only meant you’d become more addicted to him and what he could do to you.

He grunted, angling his hips when he found your spot, hitting it over and over, bringing his hand down to play with your clit. “Told you I wanted to see you cum again, pretty girl. So you’re gonna cum then I’m gonna fill you up. That sound okay?”

You nodded eagerly, eyes watching his every move as your hands gripped his arms, your thighs burning invitingly as they stretched around him with every thrust. Then you uttered that one word that always had him almost inappropriately weak for you. “Want to be full of you, professor.”

His jaw slacked and he paused for a slight moment before picking up his pace, faster than before, hips chasing after both your highs, fingers still rubbing you just the way he learned, just the way you liked. “Fuck-–”

A few more thrusts and flicks of his wrist and you were tensing under him, your pussy clenching around him as he let out broken curses and moans, losing his rhythm and releasing into you with a groan. 

He rested some of his weight on you for a moment, the both of you smiling and laughing breathlessly as you took in the moment. Your hands came up to play with his curls and he sighed, leaning into your touch. He lowered his head into the crook of your neck and left a few soft kisses, coaxing some sighs from you as well.  

After a moment, he rolled over and took you with him, making you nuzzle further into him, his arm wrapped around you, your leg slung over his waist. His hand was rubbing up to your ass and down to your thigh, lulling you to sleep while simultaneously riling you up again. 

He kissed your forehead and you kissed his chest in response. “That was fucking amazing, love.”

You nodded and hummed in agreement, “Even better than my dreams.”

He pulled back to look at you, you could hear his heartbeat quicken and you tried to hide your face in his chest. “You had dreams about this too?”

That made you lift your head up to look at him. You could see in his eyes that he wasn’t joking but you were still slightly shocked. “Too?”

He smiled, licking his lips, “Well maybe we should discuss them, and try them out for ourselves.” His hand found its way between your legs again, making you moan but that didn’t stop you from responding.

You nodded, “For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” He grinned, “See, I knew I taught you well.” He leaned in to kiss you deeply, “My girl’s the perfect student.” 

You spent hours exploring each other's bodies as you reenacted your dreams, both exceeding each other's expectations every time. By the time you fell asleep in each other's arms, it was late at night and you were sweaty, and tired, but overwhelmingly pleased.

❊❊❊❊

The next Friday, it was halloween. Liz had somehow convinced you to go to a halloween party with her. On top of that it was a frat party. And even worse, you dressed up as a school girl because it was all last minute and you didn’t have any time to get a costume. 

“Oh come on Y/N, you look hot!”

You turned in the full length mirror to look at your ass that was almost visible in this mini skirt. “You think so?”

“Duh.”

And that’s all the convincing you needed to go out. You needed a little college fun. You hadn’t been to a party in who knows how long because you were always focusing on your work. You deserved this. Also Liz said it was a celebration of your “lay”, yes, she said lay. 

“I’m just saying you cannot let me get with him again.”

“Liz it’s literally his frat house that we’re going to and we both know you have little to no self control.”

“Well damn. You couldn’t have sugar coated it?”

“What, you want me to throw a packet of splenda on you?” You joked.

She shoved you, “Dude shut up,” she laughed.

You looked down at your bare thighs that were only partly covered by your thigh high socks and rubbed your arms, regretting not bringing a jacket when Liz spoke up again. “Oh shit, is that Professor Holland?”

Your eyes shot up and made direct eye contact with him. He was wearing a hoodie and some sweats but he still looked great as usual. His eyes trailed down your body and soon your shivers were no longer because of the cold. 

“I’ll just wait here.” Liz said suggestively and you walked over to Tom. 

“H–Hi.”

He put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to touch you, he didn’t know who was around. “Well hello to you too.” He looked into your eyes, a smirk on his face. You rubbed your arms quickly for warmth, and Tom had to control himself to not look at your chest, even though he could see your nipples hardening from the weather through your shirt. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and take you home. 

“Any plans?” You asked.

“No, I'm just about to go home. I’m uh guessing you have somewhere to be?” His eyes traced your figure again.

“Yeah um me and Liz are going to a frat party.” You pointed back to your friend and gave him a small smile and shrug. “She convinced me.”

He wanted to kiss you so bad but he had to restrain himself.

“Be safe tonight, yeah?” His eyes were comforting, as they always were, but this felt almost more personal? Almost like he didn’t want you to go. And honestly, after seeing him, you almost didn’t want to either. You never defined your relationship with him, so honestly right now he was like a friend with benefits––professor with benefits, if you will. 

You nodded, licking your lips nervously. “O––Okay. I will. You be safe too!”

His eyes followed you as you walked off, your friend pulling you along, obviously whispering to you, probably about him. You looked so fucking good and everyone else was going to see that too. It’s not like he owned you or anything, but part of him really wished he could claim you, openly care for you and be affectionate. His thoughts were a mix of wholesome and raunchy and he had no idea how to act.

He almost felt wrong but he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his mind, the way you looked up at him sheepishly, the innocent look in your eyes while you were wearing that mini skirt. His cock was bulging in his boxers ever since he first laid eyes on you. When he got home, he made his way to his bed, undressing almost immediately. Lying down in the middle of the bed, just where you were days before brought a flood of memories into his mind, only making his member throb even more. He tugged at his cock, spitting in his hand to make it slick.

Images of you were flashing in his mind as he sped up his movements, desperate for a release. 

He was dying to get a taste of you again. The memory of the way you felt under his fingertips, the way your muscles clenched when he hit the right spots. The way you tasted when you were dripping onto his tongue. The way you looked at him when you came, your lips parted to release broken moans and whimpers. The way your fingers gripped his curls as your body tensed. It was all enough to make him spill over his hand, his breaths coming out in quick pants as his head dropped back onto the pillow.

“Fuck.” He really had it bad for you. 

❊❊❊❊

Tom had texted you during class on Tuesday to meet him in his office when you were done with classes for the day. When you stepped into the room, he locked the door immediately, bringing you over to his desk, his lips chasing yours. Screw worrying about people hearing you, he wanted you. Now. 

“God, just seeing you in that tight little costume––you have no idea how badly I wanted to ravish you. The thought of all those dumb frat boys seeing you in all your glory like that––I was absolutely beside myself.” So that’s what this was about. His hand came up to hold your cheek, his eyes fiercely staring into yours and you nuzzled into his touch, your hand holding his wrist softly and his eyes softened at the sight of you.

“I’m gonna absolutely devour you.” You gasped and he smiled, pulling your pants along with panties down. He sat you down on his desk and got down on his knees, licking his lips. “As soon as I got a taste of you, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go without it ever again.” He kissed your thigh, looking up at you. “You gonna let me have a taste again? Wanna make you feel good, lovie.”

You nodded, swallowing roughly, “Y––Yeah. Yes please.”

He chuckled breathlessly, “Such a polite little thing you are.” He kissed his way from your inner thigh to your center before licking a torturously slow stripe from your hole to your clit. You let out a sigh and gripped the desk, your fingertips becoming lighter at how hard you were already holding it.

His hands held your thighs open, putting them over his shoulders, holding you in place. His tongue was languidly licking you up and down, savoring your taste and your moans, coaxing them out of you one by one, nonstop. He looked up at you and your breath got caught in your throat, the look in his eyes fierce, almost as if he could see your bare soul and he clearly liked what he saw. He brought his lips to close around your heat after every other swipe of his tongue, passionately kissing your heat. 

“So fucking good, angel. Always the best for me.”

You nodded, licking your lips, one of your hands coming to grab at his curls, making him growl into you. “Only for you, Tommy.”

He didn’t stop his tongue or his lips until you came, your back arching, fingers frantically grabbing for whatever you could hold, lip trapped between your teeth to muffle the moans that so desperately wanted to escape into the quiet air of the room. He kept going until you had to pull his head away from you, overwhelmed by all the pleasure and scared that you would scream and alert everyone in the building about what you were up to.

His hands were caressing your thighs, eyes looking at you in awe, almost too innocently for what you’d just done. He stood up between your legs and leaned in to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and his lips. 

He pulled away to look at you, hands holding your hips as your legs wrapped around his waist. You brought your arms up to link around his neck, looking up at him appreciatively and absolutely spent. “So do you think I should wear school girl outfits more often?”

He laughed, his hands holding you tighter, “If you do, my head is never leaving between your thighs.”

You smiled cheekily, batting your lashes at him. “Promise?”

He’d never gotten down on his knees quicker in his life. Let’s just say it took you another hour before you left his office.

 ❊❊❊❊

Over the past few weeks it had become a routine for you to go over to Tom’s office to seemingly “work on your assignments and review,” so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to show up unannounced Friday afternoon. Without meaning to, though, it seemed you showed up a little too early, and ended up overhearing part of Tom and Harrison’s conversation. 

“I can tell Y/N means a lot to you, mate. Don’t lie.” Your heart dropped to your stomach as you skidded just in front of the door, about to turn the corner inside. You backed up and stayed pressed to the wall. Luckily no one really stopped by this side of the building at this time on a Friday, so no one would find you snooping around in the middle of the hallway. 

“No I just––”

No. He said no––Okay you weren’t going to freak out. This always happens in the movies, and then the main character runs away before hearing the most important part and they overreact. So you decided to just...wait it out. 

So you waited and waited. And the more the silence overwhelmed you, the louder it got. You could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes because you really thought your feelings were mutual. But just as you inched your foot backwards to walk away, he spoke up again, his voice quiet. 

“She means everything to me, man. I––It scares me, honestly. I just don’t want to mess it up.” 

This time the tears fully formed in your eyes, but for the absolute opposite reason. You smiled and wiped at your eyes, not even bothering to hide anymore as you turned the corner, surprising Tom, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance. Harrison turned around to see you and his gaze filled with concern as well. 

“Tom––” your voice was quiet but there was a smile on your face. 

“Darling––” He rushed over to you and grabbed your hands, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs to catch the few tears that escaped. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”

Your hands came up to hold his wrists as you looked into his eyes, “I heard you talking.” 

His face dropped in realization and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

Harrison cleared his throat and subtly made his way out, “You guys have some things to discuss.” He put a hand on your shoulder and you both smiled at each other appreciatively before he walked out, shutting the door behind him. 

Tom took your hands and brought you over to the couch. “I hope I didn’t scare you off, love.”

You shook your head immediately, even climbing in his lap to prove him wrong and he smiled gratefully. “No! It’s just that we never really talked, you know, about us.” He nodded and you took that as a sign to continue, enjoying the way his hands subconsciously slipped under your shirt to rub at your skin soothingly. “I like you Tom, obviously. But I like you a lot.” You linked your hands behind his neck. “I think I might be falling for you.”

His eyes started tearing up as well, as he smiled, “Yeah well, I think I’ve already fallen for you, darling.” 

You looked into his eyes and your smile brightened, “Okay maybe I lied––I’ve definitely already fallen for you as well.”

You both laughed lovingly, pulling each other in for a sweet kiss.“Look,” Tom started, licking his lips. “I don’t know what this means for our future, but all I know is I don’t plan on letting you go any time soon.” 

You kissed his lips softly, “Well I don’t plan on leaving any time soon either.” 

“Good.” He looked at you and you felt as though your soul was out and open for him to hold and love. “Cause you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N and I don’t ever want to lose you.” 

You could feel your eyes tearing up again. This felt good. This felt like home.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #professor!tom holland #professor!tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #for a sec tho lol #professor!tom holland imagine #professor!tom holland fic #professor!tom holland oneshot #professor!tom holland smut #professor!tom holland angst #professor!tom holland fluff

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut

[bookwyrminspiration]

Fitz, in the first couple of books, often mentioned about how everyone always knew he was going to be special, that he was going to grow up and do great things, but most of all that he was powerful and had a lot of potential as a Telepath.

Whenever I reread the series, I always feel so bad for him when those things come up because now Sophie’s the star, Sophie’s the really special and powerful Telepath, and she doesn’t even want that. It always make me feel so bad for him. I don’t even know if I’d be able to handle being around Sophie if I was in his shoes.

Yes! This! You are so right! Like Sophie's telepathy is an absolutely devastating blow to Fitz and it's continues throughout the whole series and he just has to deal with this conflict of loving Sophie and being proud of her and what she can do and also hating that it's her at the top and not him because it's always been him and now he has absolutely no way to compete with her. he can't alter his genes to become a better telepath.

I mean it starts from the very beginning of the very first book where he says something like "if I/we can't read your mind, who can?" i don't remember it exactly and don't feel like looking for it but that's the vibe. Fitz has been the top of the top up until he met Sophie and then his whole world comes crumbling down around him as she just accidentally does so many things that shouldn't be possible and completely usurps that top telepath spot. She's just naturally so so so much better than him at this one thing he's always been praised for, of course it's going to throw him off and make him nervous and upset. This was supposed to be his thing! I would've been his thing if their world wasn't messed up, because Sophie wouldn't have needed to exist otherwise. And he'd have been the top. He is the top of natural telepaths, but that doesn't matter when it's results that are important and Sophie is the one who gets results.

Fitz has the energy of a gifted kid who finally got to whatever level of schooling (high school college, etc.) that just stopped working with their brain as their performance rapidly deteriorates in quality but their perception of themselves can't change as quickly so they're kinda ignoring it and trying to hope themselves through it like "haha yea I'm just a little off rn It'll get better though" but they're actually spiraling and will never be able to recreate their top status. Fitz brushes off Sophie being a better telepath than him because he doesn't want people to know how it gets to him and also because there's this internal conflict because he genuinely loves and cares for her and wants to support her, but at the same time she has taken so much from him and doesn't even want it and it's infuriating.

I don't know if I'd be able to handle being near Sophie either, Nonsie! I don't know if I'd be able to process it. it's such a huge part of his life. he was the best telepath to exist at age like 13. And he's a Vacker. And Sophie just comes by and it's gone. He doesn't want to be mad at her because she didn't have a choice in the matter, but just because he knows that doesn't make it any easier to watch her not care about everything she took from him.

And then everyone constantly talks about it and teases him for not being as good as Sophie!! It was a deleted like, but Dex was going to say "Sophie can telepath [Fitz] under the table" or something. Like just openly boasting about her being better than him as if he doesn't know and constantly struggle with not being number one anymore. And with an impossible gap between the two of them. Like seriously it's impossible. he can't give himself an impenetrable mind or a photographic memory or genetically modify himself or teach himself to inflict. he can't compete. The best he can be is #2 and everyone knows it. And is willing to use it against him.

I want to specifically look at his working with Lord Cassius because I think its a prime example of everyone knowing and just how differently he's treated now. Keefe said something along the lines of Fitz not being good enough for the job, that his father was just leading him around, etc. I may be portraying it more negatively, but the gist of it was that if they wanted to find things they needed Sophie to search his memories. And Fitz is pissed when he finds out! Understandably!

that was his project, his chance to use his abilities and be useful. Because the whole series he has just been compared to Sophie and there to support her. It's all about her power, not his. But this project? that was him. All him. And Sophie and Keefe took that from him and then he was faced with the fact that...it worked. he'd been working with Lord Cassius for who knows how long, and Sophie's first try she finds something. it's a long way to fall for the golden boy. And he's still facing this internal dilemma of not wanting to hate Sophie for it but it's like a slap in the face every time.

Fitz so badly wants to be kind and loving, it's an integral part of who he is. And it causes him so much agony in this situation because he loves Sophie so so much and he doesn't want to hate her, but I think it will be a long time before the part of him that resents her is processed and he deals with it.

#i think him continuing to be loving and proud and supportive is a testament to his determination and strength as a character #because there is no way each action is not deliberate #a deliberate acknowledgement of the conflict he's experiencing and the distress and agony this causes him #and choosing to love Sophie anyways #knowing that she didn't do this on purpose. and doesn't want to hurt him #and that this is his battle. to learn to be okay with it #and to not hurt anyone else in the process #may or may not be a few things i'm projecting in here #hehe...he.. #but like nonsie you are so right #it's devastating to think about the conflict it creates #and how we see like none of it #just a few times where he snaps and we see part of how he's trying to cope with this shift #keeper of the lost cities #quil's queries #nonsie #fitz vacker #kotlc character analysis #kotlc

[dancingazaleas]

jean kirstein | primrose

i love him so much

y’all can’t see it but i am crying

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL HIMBO

note: this is unedited

warnings/notes: artist!jean, college au!, gardener!reader, cursing, jean’s in love, nsfw, smut, praise, fingering, soft sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, flower language.

jean wouldn’t say he was popular by any means.

everyone knew of him, but it’s not like they actively tried to befriend him or get to know him. he only really talked to the people in his friend group, and even then it was quite spread out. meaning, there were friend groups inside the friend group. jean doesn’t necessarily understand, but he’ll take what he can get.

jean mostly stayed alone on campus, none of his friends were artists. sasha was in a florist course—or something, jean never hears her speak about it—marco was majoring in nursing along with psychology, and connie was... well... connie? jean knew that connie had classes, but he didn’t even know what they were along with his major.

this meant that jean had no friends in his art classes. he wasn’t upset about it though, he always preferred to keep in his bubble. it only really got annoying whenever the professors would give them group projects.

jean’s sighing while he checks his phone, a text message from sasha that says she’s at the campus’s greenhouse finishing up an assignment. jean and sasha usually hang out until three together, waiting for connie and marco to get out of their own classes.

he grunts as he sets off to the greenhouse, not looking forward to the humidity that awaits him outside of the building. the professor made them work in the sprinkling rain?

jean pulls out an umbrella whenever he gets outside. shivering at the almost dramatic temperature drop whenever he steps outside. he trudges through the soggy grass, ignoring the squelching of his shoes and the water.

“where are you,” he asks whenever he steps inside of the greenhouse, closing his umbrella and inhaling the different smells.

the greenhouse is empty besides one person, sitting on their knees as they fill a hole with soil gently.

“huh? did you need something,” you ask as you pull your gaze away from the plant, eyebrows furrowed.

jean feels his face flush, “oh! i’m sorry... my friend said she was here but you’re the only one who’s here.”

you blink and stare, which makes jean sweat. you light up with realization, “you’re talking about sasha right? if so, she’s here still, just needed to use the bathroom in the next building over.”

he utters a thanks while you get back to your work, awkwardly loitering by the door as a way to wait for his friend.

“wh-what’s your name,” he stutters to you, cringing at how his voice echoes against the glass of the building.

“i’m (name) (last name). you?”

“j..jean kirstein. nice to meet you,” he nods with a gulp.

“not to be offensive, and even if i say that, it might be, but you don’t exactly look like a horticultural major. what are you majoring in,” you’ve not looked up from the plant you’re caring for.

“i’m an art major,” he spits out.

you pause your movements and look up to the window for a moment, relaxed smile on your face.

“funny,” you shrug and go back to your task, “i don’t think i’ve ever painted before.”

he relaxes his tense shoulders, shock written all over his pretty face, “you’ve never painted?!”

“nope.”

“what about when you were a kid?”

“no, my parents didn’t approve of messes along with anything that wasn’t proven to meet their standards,” your bottom lip juts out from concentration.

“i see,” he hums, but he really doesn’t. his mother’s always been so supportive of him and whatever he’s chose to do with his life, and still he treated her horribly when he was younger.

“what’s this project even about,” he asks, walking closer to observe your craft.

“sasha and i have to try and grow strawberries on their own... it may not seem too difficult, but strawberries are an absolute pain to maintain care for,” you sigh with disappointment, “but i’m not working on that for right now, i’m just planting for now.”

“what are you planting?” jean’s sure that you’re becoming annoyed with him and all of the questions he’s asking.

you smile a bit, “lilac.”

jean can’t see exactly how that makes you happy or flustered, but considering you’re the expert and he isn’t, he’s not gonna ask. he goes to open his mouth once more, but the greenhouse door creaking open interrupts him.

“sorry jean! there was this long line in the girl’s bathroom,” sasha blurts as she shuffles into the room and shakes the rain off of her shoes.

“it’s fine, don’t worry,” he holds up a hand snd shakes his head.

“oh! (name), you’re still here,” she asks whenever she steps closer.

“yea, just felt like gardening,” you place the pot down gently and look up to her from your place on the floor.

“what’re you plantin’?”

“lilac,” jean answers for her and is once again struck by confusion whenever sasha’s cheeks light up as a smile stretches across her face.

he looks back to you to find you glaring at sasha with a secret knowledge.

“what? what’s so weird about it,” he asks, looking between you two.

“nothing nothing, jeanie boy! c’mon, i want a burger,” she giggles as she waves her hand up and down, turning around to go out of the door.

“didn’t niccolo feed you earlier,” he scoffs, following behind.

“yeah! he made me lobster. anyways, bye (name)!” she grins as she opens the door after taking jean’s umbrella.

jean fusses over her lack of care as he snatches his umbrella back from her and puts it over the both of them. briefly, his mind wonders back to you.

————

next time jean sees you, you’re looking quite frustrated and upset as you shovel dirt into a an empty pot. sasha is, once again, going to the bathroom in the building over.

“are you alright,” he’s hesitant.

you jump up, not even noticing him once he’d walked in. you relax while you sigh, eyebrows bunching up in frustration.

“i’m okay,” it seems you’re telling yourself this more than you tell jean, “my parents are just being upsetting.”

jean gets a text from sasha, telling him that she’s going to go to the bathroom in the main building since the line was too long. he doesn’t care for some reason, instead taking a seat beside you on the ground.

“wanna talk about it,” he asks, his body warm next to your’s.

you sigh for the umpteenth time, “we’ve only met once and i’d feel as if i would be dumping this onto you.”

“i don’t mind. if you don’t want to speak about it, i won’t force you,” he shrugs.

“well,” you start with reluctance, “my family’s always been judgmental of how i should be allowed to spend my time. not only that, but careers, interests, and friends.”

“and i assume they’ve said something about your major,” he assumes, slightly sad as you nod.

“bingo. they don’t think it’s sophisticated enough for me, but i’m not too sophisticated myself. i’m barely an adult, i’ve just turned 19. why they won’t let me be a kid is beyond me,” you gently lay the seed into the soil of the pot.

“i’ve never had this issue, so i can’t say that i completely understand or that what i say will help. however, good parents shouldn’t treat their child like that. you’re your own person, they shouldn’t be trying to limit you and your experiences. it’s not fair to you,” he says, “you’re parents are ignorant.”

you stifle a laugh, “thank you, jean. i appreciate it, genuinely.”

his cheeks flush as he nods, telling you that it was just something a friend would do for another.

“what’s your instagram,” you ask, swiftly pulling your phone from your pocket and pulling up the app.

he tells you nervously, three dings emitting from his phone in his pocket. one follow, one like, and one message.

jean finds himself texting you at nine pm.

————

jean finds himself giddy a few months later. he’s talked to you nonstop ever since he’s gotten your instagram, easily falling for you as he learns more about you.

he’s teaching you how to paint today. or, not really teach, but just helping you get started.

he sits on his couch while he waits, opting to watch some k-drama that connie recommend to him. he tells you that you can just walk in since the door’s unlocked, but jean has a feeling you would’ve just walked in anyways.

he hugs you excitedly whenever you walk in, leading you over to one of the easel and canvases he’s set up for you. he looks at your outfit.

“you’re wearing that?” he asks, not really thinking before he speaks.

“yea...? gotta problem with it,” you’re immediately defensive, and it has jean bouncing back with realization.

“oh my god, i meant you’re wearing that to paint? you’re outfit looks good on you! it’s cute! n-not to say that you’re cute or anything! er—i don’t mean that you’re not cute!” jean flushes, “i am... going to stop talking..”

you giggle at him, “it’s okay jean, i know what you mean.”

“o-okay,” he relaxes, “do you need to borrow any clothes? i don’t want your shirt to get dirtied.”

“just a shirt, your pants wouldn’t fit me,” you ask while you untuck your loose white button up from your jeans.

he scurries off to find you a shirt, slapping himself on the forehead in embarrassment. he grabs you a light grey shirt with paint splotches scattered on it, which he’s once painted a mural in.

he turns his back to you whenever he gives you the shirt, instead focusing on the collection of painting supplies he’s set out on his work tray. he’s chosen acrylics for you, claiming that they’re the easiest to do if you’re a beginner. you have a feeling that he’s lying, especially since he’s an art major.

“are we painting anything specific,” you ask and sit down on the stool provided for you.

“actually, i was thinking of letting you choose. maybe some flowers or plants since they help you relax,” he contemplates aloud, hand pressed to his chin.

“let’s paint a sunflower,” you say reluctantly, “they should be easy enough to paint.”

he nods, starting put small spurts of paint onto his pallet. you mimic his actions, carefully stroking the canvas with your paintbrush.

“relax your shoulders,” he suggests, noticing just how stiff you are, “if you’re too stiff then the painting will be too. this is about relaxing.”

“i just don’t want to make any mistakes.”

“hey, like bob ross always says; there are no mistakes, just happy accidents,” jean gives a lazy smile as he continues to paint.

you laugh at him, finally relaxing your body and brushing the brush across the canvas. you both chat absentmindedly as you paint, finding comfort in one another’s voice and movements. you’re both playing 20 questions, if you can call a conversation that.

“the most embarrassing thing... probably walking in on my friends having sex,” he briefly remembers his friend, bertholdt, on top of reiner, “it’s how they came out to me.”

you cackle, “oh my god!! they must’ve been mortified!!”

“they were, i felt so bad for walking in on them. now, it’s a funny joke since they’re both out to everyone,” he snickers, “now, where’s your favorite place on earth that you’ve been to?”

“a amusement park over in marley. snuck off with my first ever boyfriend there,” you stroke your brush once more, “or maybe the swimming pool in my parents house. anywhere that i can feel weightless.���

he hums in acknowledgment, “mine’s out in the forest probably. i like it quiet.”

“quiet is always nice. so, jean, have you ever had a girlfriend,” you laugh at jean’s face scrunch up from a childish question.

“yeah, i’ve had one. it went really well at first but it turns out that she likes girls. it hurt at first, cause i loved her, but i got over it. i’ve got no hard feelings against her, she can’t help liking girls. her and i are just really close friends now,” he has a fond smile on his face as he thinks of mikasa.

“i’m glad the two of you are still friends, and i’m sure that she appreciates your kindness to her,” you reciprocate a smile.

“me too. anyways, since you want to dive into my love life, let’s dive into your’s. have you ever been in love?”

you face heats up while you pause your movements, “y-yeah. not until recently though.”

jean’s eyes widen as his own cheeks flush a bright red, and for once he prays.

he prays that it’s him you’re in love with.

————

a month later and you still have the painting of a sunflower that jean did. it makes you embarrassed every time you look at it, even though jean didn’t know the meaning behind the flower.

you sit on the floor of the greenhouse, ignoring how the rain thumps gently on the glass roof. jean’s sitting beside you, leaning all of his weight on your body, which makes you laugh.

“you never told me what you’re planting,” he points out while adding more of his weight onto you.

you laugh while you shove him off of you, “i can’t with you on me like that.”

“well, now i’m not on you so,” he grins cockily, and you want to smack it off of him.

“okay, okay! i’m planting a primrose,” you say while you gently plant a seed into the soil.

“what’s the occasion?”

“what do you mean,” you raise a questioning eyebrow.

“my dad always got my mom those flowers on valentine’s day or for their anniversary. now, my mom puts them on his grave. it means ‘i can’t live without you’ or symbolizes young love,” he explains, “who’re they for?”

embarrassment hits you like truck. you were planting these for jean. whenever they were blooming, you were going to give them to him. thank god you didn’t.

you laugh nervously, “no one! i just felt like planting them! they’re pretty flowers.”

“whatever you say,” jean shrugs, heart tingling with pain.

whenever the flowers had bloomed, you stood at jean’s doorstep with the pot in your hands. your cheeks were hot as you stared at your feet, hoping to god that jean felt the same way towards you.

when jean opens his door, he doesn’t expect to see you holding the potted plant. you’d told him that it wasn’t for anyone and it wasn’t for him, so why’d you have it. did you want him to take care of it or something?

“for you,” you stumble over your words a bit while you thrust the pot against his chest.

it’s his turn to be embarrassed, these are for him! the flower is so pretty, full bloom and showing itself off towards the sun. jean hurries to place the pot on his living room coffee table, then he pounces.

his arms wrap around you and hold you close, his face is emitting a heat when he pulls away to look at you.

“me too,” you look at him confused, “i love you too.”

you feel like crying, for some reason this means the absolute world to you. you wrap your arms around his neck, not able to hold back the tears forming in your eyes.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner,” he laughs while squeezing you tight.

“i did,” your laughter is muffled until he pulls away.

“when?”

“since we met. granted, i didn’t expect to meet you that day. lilac means the start of a new love. and then i told you again when you painted the sunflower again. sunflowers mean pure love,” you wipe away tears as jean pulls you inside his house by your hand.

“i’m such an idiot,” he smacks a palm to his forehead, “that’s what you and sasha were laughing about when we met, wasn’t it?”

“yea,” you watch him lead you to his bedroom, somewhere that you’ve been to on many occasions.

he crawls into bed beside you, pulling you closer to him—if it were even possible. he’s littering your face with soft kisses that tickle your skin and make you giggle.

“what are you doing?!”

“i’ve been wanting to do this since i’ve met you, give me a break,” he mumbles against your skin, lips finally making contact with your’s.

the kiss is sweet like candy, and you almost can’t take it. you deepen the kiss without hesitation, surprising jean, who obviously reciprocates. you whimper against jean’s mouth whenever you grant him access to explore your own.

he pulls away, a shy look in his eyes that tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“yes, jean. as long as you’re gentle,” you put a hand on top his cheek, stroking it gently.

he smiles before asking his next question shyly, “could we... do a different position? one that isn’t missionary.”

“jean, i’ve only had sex a few times. all were in missionary and were hookups. as long as it’s with you, i don’t mind what we do,” you reassure, scooting closer to him.

he’s surprised that his face doesn’t burst into flames, at this point.

“okay... could you... turn around,” your face twists into confusion, “you’ll find out.”

it sounds ominous, but since it’s jean, you don’t mind. you turn your back to him, shivering whenever his lips kiss at the nape of your neck. his chest presses against your back and he slips one of his arms under the arm against the bed.

his lips bite on your neck while his hands sliver their way up to your boobs. you sit up for a moment, pulling the loose shirt you were wearing off of your body. you shimmy your pants off while you’re at it, easily flopping back into jean’s arms.

god, he’s so close to fainting just from seeing you without clothes. especially when he realizes that you’re not wearing a bra.

his hands grope at your chest, rolling your nipples through his nimble fingers. you whimper shyly, hand coming up to grab at his own.

“cute,” he smiles whenever you look over your shoulder, the same hand drifting from your tit to the waistline of your panties.

his hand reaches inside your hand plain underwear as you willingly spread your legs open, something you’re secretly embarrassed about, but you decide to ignore it anyways. with hesitance, his fingertip comes in contact with your clit. you flinch at the contact and let out a gasp, once again squeezing at his hand.

“spread your legs wider for me, love,” he murmurs in your ear, nudging his wrist against your thigh.

you oblige silently, hooking your foot around the back of jean’s knee.

“good girl,” he smiles, two fingers gently pressing against your clit after he’s wet them with his spit.

you moan out whenever jean starts rubbing lazy circles into your clit and his other hand gropes at your tit. your hips buck forward on instinct, which has you biting your lip from embarrassment.

“can you try to keep your hips still for me,” he kisses at your earlobe, stubble scratching against your neck.

you nod to him, even if you both know that you won’t uphold that promise.

whenever his fingers move up a speed, so does the volume of your moans.

“jean,” you whimper, “i’m gonna cum.”

“it’s okay, you’ve been so good for me, my pretty girl. go ahead and cum,” he smiles against your skin, once again speeding up his tempo.

your nails are biting into his wrist as your hips start to buck almost uncontrollably. your head is thrown back while you open your mouth in a silent scream and your eyes roll back. jean slows his pace, helping you ride out your orgasm.

his smile stretches wider when he holds his fingers up to the light, admiring how the digits glistened in against the early morning sun peeking through the curtains. he also manages to take off your panties.

he puts the two fingers in your mouth once he’s done admiring them, cooing praises in your ear. a string of salvia is connect to his fingertips whenever he pulls them out of your mouth, making you whine in embarrassment. he chuckles and reaches his warm hand back down to your wet cunt.

you gasp at the coldness of your spit coming into contact with your heated entrance. his fingers enter you slowly and cautiously and it takes your breath away.

“you’re so tight,” still smiling, “when’s the last time you’ve gotten laid, pretty girl?”

“f-fuck... maybe like... six months ago,” you pant like a dog in heat.

“it’s good thing you’ve got me now, huh? gonna take care of you now.”

you’re squeezing your pretty eyes closed while you adjust to the feeling of two fingers inside of you. jean feels himself memorizes the look on your face in his brain whenever he gives a shallow thrust with his fingers. you wiggle your hips a bit, whining out for jean to give you more.

he does exactly that.

he starts to finger you slowly, eventually speeding up the speed as you get more and more used to the feeling. his fingers curl against your sweet spot that has you bucking your hips once again.

“there! there,” you buck again when he continues to brush over it.

angling his fingers just right, he starts to thrust and curl his fingers inside of you at the perfect speed.

“fuck! fuck! fuck!” you gasp whenever your toes start to curl.

“are you gonna cum again? it’s okay. go ahead and cum on my fingers, pretty girl,” he reassures while pecking at your neck lazily.

you come once again after a few seconds pass, legs shaking when jean doesn’t slow down his speed.

“can’t...! i can’t cum again,” you whimper while arching your back against jeans torso.

“i know you can,” he whispers, “gotta prepare you for my cock, remember?”

his filthy words make you mewl as you feel yourself already approaching another orgasm quickly. you scream whenever you orgasm again, hips jerking back and forth wildly as his other hand starts rubbing on your puffy little clit.

you’re crying from the intensity. you’re sure that if you’d be able to take all of this if you had fucked anyone these past six months.

instead of slowing down, jean actually speeds up his movements again. you know that you’re mascara might be smearing, you can’t remember if it’s waterproof, tear proof—what the fuck ever.

your legs convulse when jean manages to work you up to another mind blowing orgasm. but this time, you squirt all over jean’s hand and the insides of your plump thighs.

“there we go,” he praises, “that’s what i needed.”

he’s finally slowing his fingers down, and you wonder if they’re aching at the moment.

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” you babble as your nails scratch at his wrist.

“such a sweet girl, thanking me when i haven’t even trained you.”

your chest is heaving up and down while jean pulls his cock out of his pants, a moment’s rest.

you gulp whenever you see his dick. you didn’t believe sasha’s jokes whenever she said jean not only had a horse face but also a horse cock. how she knew, you didn’t ask, but either way she was right. you’d have to apologize to sasha for not heeding her warnings after this.

“don’t be scared, love. i’ll take care of you,” he comforts you while pulling your leg up a bit.

his fingers squeeze at the soft flesh that’s the back of your thigh, instructing you on how to insert himself in your tight little pussy.

after guiding jean’s cock in you, you sob out from just how much he fills you up already. you don’t take a pause, too eager to feel jean inside of you.

noticing this, jean hooks his arm around your thigh and grabs your hand. the angle has his hitting spots that he hadn’t before, pussy fluttering around his cock in effect.

“be patient,” he demands in a soft tone, his hand guiding your own, “i don’t want to hurt you.”

“don’t care, need you so bad,” you sniffle and wiggle your hips once more, ignoring the slight burn.

sighing, jean carefully thrusts the rest of his cock inside of you. you sob out in both pleasure and pain, hand now going back to scratching at his wrist.

“i told you, sweet girl,” you look at him from over your shoulder, “you gotta listen to me.”

“‘m sorry,” you whimper while jean kisses away a tear.

“t’s okay, now just wait until your comfortable,” he advises, unhooking his arm from your thigh and holding it with his hand.

it takes a minute or two, but jean is nothing but attentive during this. thumb stroking your thigh, lips kissing your neck and cheek, whispering quietly in your ear that you’re doing so well.

when you’re ready, he thrusts into you softly. he doesn’t want to hurt you, even when his dick hurts from not cumming. after seeing you’re alright with it, he thrusts more vigorously. with your skin slapping against one another’s tenderly and tits bouncing jean is groaning in your ear.

the hand not holding your thigh holds onto your boob, pinching your nipple and then rolling it in between his fingers again. the kisses he’s pressing against your shoulder feels so hot and sweet against your sweaty skin.

your whines and moans are so cute, begging for jean to cum at the same time you do and for him to come inside.

“you want my cum in you,” he pants, “anything you want since you’ve asked so nicely.”

he speeds his hips up just a bit, guttural groans coming from his throat as your pussy grips him like a vise.

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you’re mewling almost makes jean black out.

“i’m right behind you, go ahead, love,” his eyebrows bunch together as he nears his orgasm.

after two more thrusts, the both of you are coming. jean’s groans are surprisingly starting to turn into soft moans, which is something you’ll try to get out of him another time.

after you both come down from your high, jean’s pulling his softening dick out of you. he lays on his backside, pulling your weak body on top of his chest with ease.

“love you,” he smiles and gives you a kiss.

“primrose love,” you smile goofily at him.

“primrose love.”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot jean #snk jean #jean aot #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean smut #aot fluff #aot smut

[retvenkos]

“would it be terribly cheesy if i said ‘it was always you’?”

requested by @biqherosix STRAP IN, FOLKS, BECAUSE TODAY WE ARE TAKING A LOOK AT WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE FOR EJ CASWELL TO HAVE A CRUSH ON A NORTH HIGH STUDENT...

so first of all, you and ej knew each other long before you ran into each other in high school. because, you see, you went to junior high together, and in those days, both you and ej were on dance company 

(you can pry dance company! ej from my cold, dead fingers)

you were arguably the better dancer, and seventh grade ej really wanted to prove himself. a baby competition sprouted between the two of you, but it was nothing big.

you both liked to show off in order to taunt the other, and you both got a kick out of trying to one up each other.

but at the same time, you were teammates. you did everything together.

so the bond between you and ej was strong. it was a competition, yes, but it was friendly competition and you both actually hyped each other a lot. 

plus, dance company does a lot of things as a group, so it was unavoidable. you were going to end up liking each other at some point. luckily, it happened sooner rather than later, and the two of you built up a nice rapport with one another - a closeness forged in friendly competition and last minute studying parties.

but all that changed when you went to north high and ej went to east high

now, since north high is completely fictional, i get to create the dynamic between the schools, so listen up everyone!

north high clearly has the better arts department, and they also have the better tennis and softball team.

east high has the better stem department as well as a better swim team and any other swim related sports.

west high has the better sport teams overall - basketball, football, volleyball, etc.

(that's why we never see any uber jocks at east high—)

now, clearly you have your boundary school, but people get on special permit all the time, and when you say you’re going to north high ej is like ???? but why ???

“they have a better arts department, ej, you know that!”

“well, yeah, but east high is the best. we always said we were going to be wildcats!”

“ej.... they’re actually leopards.”

it wasn’t a super emotional goodbye. you promised to stay in touch, and it wasn’t like it was hard. you still saw each other around the mall, you still followed each other on instagram and what not but.... time just got between you.

you slowly stop texting, you see each other less, when you see each other in public you do that thing where you give a smile but then don’t go over to say hi, because you’re wrapped up in other people. it’s not pointed things, you just... stop talking.

and you still like each others photos on instagram but you’re just... there. 

all of that changes, however, when carlos asks you to help him choreograph hsm.

at the time, the rivalry between schools wasn’t big, it was just a low simmer, and the reason carlos approached you was because once upon a time, you, ej, and him had all been in dance company together for one (1) year (it all comes full cIRCLE) and for one of your performances, you had done something hsm related.

carlos wanted to know if you remembered the routine and could help him come up with something slightly more advanced.

and while you and carlos hadn’t really kept up with one another, he jokingly brought up a time where he did something for you, and how you always said you’d pay him back one day and maybe now it was time to cash it in??

you decided why not? you’ve done a lot of stuff for north high’s dance company, but you’ve never helped out in a musical before (and as you can imagine, north high is very competitive in their arts)

so you joined the hsm cast as co-choreographer.

now, because you had your own north high dance company stuff to deal with, you end up missing a lot of rehearsals. you mostly brainstorm with carlos and add tweaks to the choreo. carlos is the one to really ~teach~ things.

which means that while you are present for ~the drama~ that was ej-nini-ricky, you actually miss a lot of it. you feel the tension, but exactly why it’s Like That is beyond you.

you tried to ask carlos once but he said he wasn’t going to get into that, thank you.

and honestly, you have competitions to keep up with, so you’re not fixated on it. you’re just hoping that they’re not still pissed at each other on opening night, when ej has to strap ricky in for “getcha head in the game”

and while you’ve chatted with ej a couple of times, you haven’t had much time to catch up.

you actually bond a lot with gina, who is on the same level as you in terms of dance. you end up talking and mention how ej was once on dance company, and that rocks her world because ej???

and that’s when you show her all of the old videos you archived on your instagram from your junior high days. carlos, ej, and you all in dance company. they’re precious.

and when ej’s friendships are strained and he doesn’t have anyone to turn to, he sees you and gina laughing and crowding over your phone, and he comes to say hi.

and thus, the friendship begins again.

it is, of course, slow going because so much time has come between you, and gina and carlos (the two you hang with the most) are not on great terms with ej, but you guys grow really close all over again. ej is glad to have another senior to talk to about college, and you’re glad you have an old friend to talk to because it’s easy to feel out of place in this school that isn’t yours.

and on opening night, you know ej gifts you something - maybe it’s a jacket or beanie with the wildcats emblem on it.

“it’s kinda stupid, but we always said we were going to be wildcats together, and we did it.”

“huh, i guess we did.”

and for some reason, you chest is really warm, and you can feel the heat sneak up to your cheeks.

“this is really sweet, ej.”

“well, you know me.”

“yeah, i guess i do.”

and then it’s his cue to get ready to go on stage.

“oh! and there should be another surprise coming, don’t hate me for not telling you!”

and you’re ??? but it turns out to be gina.

you all clearly go to denny's afterward to celebrate, and if ej feels his heart seize in his chest everytime you laugh or steal one of gina’s fries, it’s not an unfamiliar feeling. because really, it had always been like that, with you. you never cease to amaze him.

and once you’re on the east high theatre group chat, you never get taken off of it, so you know everything that’s going on with your theatre buddies, after hsm has finished.

and this is where a conflict of interest really comes in...

because, you see, once hsm is a hit, some of the theatre kids at north high think you’re a traitor. you gave east high their secrets, and now east high is an actual contender. uncool, (y/n).

so you kind of get iced out by a lot of north high kids. like i said. competition there is  s t e e p  and you’ve been accused of fraternizing with the enemy..

but when zach roy shows up and he hears about the drama surrounding one (y/n) (l/n), he gets an idea... so he approaches you one day after dance company practice...

“he asked you to do wHAT?”

you’re texting ej, carlos, and gina in a group chat

“he asked me to co-choreograph their show.”

“are you going to do it?” - carlos

“of course they are! do you think opportunities like this just fall out of the sky?” - gina

“i don’t know, though, i feel like he’s working some angle with me. there’s something about him that doesn’t feel genuine.”

“it’s those piercing blue eyes.” - carlos

“i have piercing blue eyes!”

“and you’ve never done anything underhanded?” - gina

“we did that together!”

“what should i do?”

“accept, clearly!” - gina

“i’d be careful, if i were you. miss jenn doesn’t trust him for a reason.” - carlos

“it’s up to you, (y/n). you’ll do great, and it’s a great opportunity.”

“but?”

and everyone can feel the pause - the conflict where ej doesn’t know what to say.

“but nothing! this is a HUGE opportunity! he’s dancer extraordinaire derek hough zach roy! i’d be the villain of your eventual documentary if i were to try to hold you back.”

“okay... i think i’ll do it. you know how competitive things are, here. this could really give me a boost.”

“hell yeah, (y/n)!” - gina

“spy on their production for us?” - carlos

“anything for you <3″

i imagine you clash a lot with lily, but you actually become really good friends with howie and antoine. but that’s beside the point.

and while things are on good terms at first, your bond with your wildcats stays strong, and you’re carving out a place in north high rehearsals, lily is quick to find out that you’re on the east high group chat.

and because this is hsmtmts, i get to have some fun with this premise.

lily gets some kind of tech nerd on her side, and she gets him to make it so that somehow, the text that you get from the theatre group also send to her phone, for maximum stalking of the competition. that’s how she always gets one step ahead of east high.

and as north high seemingly continues to have insider info on east high, someone suspects there’s a leak.... which leads to you. who else has access to north high? so they send a fake text and wait to see if north high takes the bait.

they do. so now east high thinks it’s you.

but at this same time, you keep noticing that suspiciously, whenever you get a text from east high theatre department, lily’s phone goes off to. literally at the same moment, you’re doing your own test to see if somehow she hacked your phone.

(you had your suspicions because lily is actually terribly bad at hiding her hand and constantly makes remarks that make you Think™.)

you confirm lily to have hacked your phone, and so you go old school and show up to east high, hoping to tell them what happened and find some fix (since east high is the mother of all tech schools in this universe.)

but when you walk into the auditorium, the cast is being really passive aggressive toward you? and you’re so confused? what happened?

of course, ricky is the only to confront you because these days, it seems like he’s always one (1) moment away from blowing up.

and you explain that you were played just as much as they were - it was never your intention to betray them. east high is your family.

“oh, yeah? i’ve never known an east high leopard to go to north high.”

and so now we’re in shambles! we’re divided! 

you leave, upset, and ej catches you in the hall. he tries to explain that ricky’s been on one, recently, that none of his anger was really meant for you, and that he believes you - truly. he knows you’re the last person to ever betray them. you’re not like that. that’s more him than it is you.

and you just give him the world’s biggest  h u g .

now you’re probably wondering why i insisted on this particular plot line, but let me tell you - ej never really understood completely what a complete breach of trust it was for him to steak nini’s phone and violate her privacy like that. now he can see how deeply it affects you - how it can really ruin people in ways you never intend. it’s about the learning curve.

anyway, it takes you a while to build up trust with east high again, but you say “hey, why don’t you guys continue to send false leads to this group chat? make another for yourselves, and continue to spread misinformation to me.

ej is like... do you really want to sabotage your own show? but you tell him something along the lines of “our show is still going to have superior choreography, lily is just going to waste her time doing pointless side missions. it has nothing to do with the quality of my work.”

and ej loves this competitive and devious side of you so much. but he’s also deathly terrified of telling you how much he cares about you, because he always manages to screw things up.

and gina finds hilariously endearing because of all people to be self conscious... ej caswell? the ej caswell? she would be his hype woman if she wasn’t so busy finding this all too Good to be true.

eventually, lily will find out, but when she confronts you and threatens to tell the cast that you’re the reason they’re so behind in their production, you tell her that to do that, she’d have to confess to stealing your phone, hacking into it, and using it to spy on you which breaks like 23 different school rules. but sure! tell everyone! you’d love to see how the principal reacts when you film it and show it to them on monday.

(this is getting really long, let me see if i can wrap it up, quick)

clearly, ej is an Idiot when he’s in love, and even though he’s deathly afraid of telling you his feelings, that doesn’t stop him from expressing them.

both of you are in your respective musicals, and your rehearsal schedules align really nicely, so a lot of the time, ej will drive up to north high afterward so he can give you a ride home. (you don’t have a car, okay?) you guys always stop to get fast food or a drink at starbucks or something, and you have little “dates” where ej parks the car and the two of you eat in his car, just chatting about your day.

or on weekends, you and ej go and drive up to the state college that ej was admitted to, and you walk around campus, trying to envision him there. and if you’re also going to a school nearby, you do the same for you. (bonus points if you’re going to the same college, so you walk around and pick out the places where you’ll chill together.)

and if these little excursions of yours are the highlight of your week, and all you want to do is hold ej’s hand forever, singing in the car with the windows down and driving into the sunset... well, you just hope that ej wants the same.

and since ej is in av club, and he’s really trying to dig in and figure out what his story is, he’s always got a camera of some kind out, and some of his best work, he swears, are pictures and videos of you.

anyway, at some point, you confess to ej that you have a crush on him (howie probably pushed you to do it because he was tired of seeing you pine).

it’s a weekend and the two of you are procrastinating on your respective school assignments (study sessions being interrupted with senioritis? sounds about right) so instead you’re just sitting on the floor, staring at the ceiling, talking about whatever. and i think it just slips out, and when you realize what you’ve said, you’re vvv embarrassed, and you don’t even want to look at see how ej reacts, but he calls your name and you turn to him, a deadly mixture of dread and hope rooted in your stomach and shaking you to your core, but ej is smiling and in his eyes is something brighter than the sun, and when he tells you he’s feels the same, it’s like that dread in your stomach blooms into pure joy and when he tells you he’s had a crush on you since you were eighth graders and you were a better dancer than him, you can’t help but laugh until all of that warmth in your stomach has escaped into the air and hangs around the two of you like low hanging stars - so close, you can reach out and touch them.

anyway, cue lots of sneaking around north high - not because it’s a secret but because it’s fun hiding in the back of the auditorium and sneaking into the empty dance room.

cue cheering for each other at the menkies and congratulating each other when east high gets best musical, and north high gets best choreography (amongst others).

cue going to denny’s to celebrate and laughing until your sides hurt, stealing each other’s fries, and holding hands under the table.

(also... ej 100% would kiss your fingers when your hands are intertwined and that’s truly a blessing)

cue going to pool parties together for no other reason than i want all of the east high kids to do an impromptu rendition of “all for one” and ej gets to hit ricky with one of those blow up beach balls “for revenge” on the basketball moment in season 1.

plus, a pool party would do wonders for destressing, don’t lie.

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

taglist: @maybanksslut, @theletterhart, @brokenandheadoverheels, @neelia-thedaughtherof-athena @kitsdeadwife, @amortensie // add yourself to the taglist here!

#hsmtmts #high school musical: the musical: the series #high school musical the musical the series #ej caswell #ej caswell x reader #ej caswell x you #ej caswell headcanons #reader insert #ej caswell imagine #imagine #headcanons #would include #fluff #long post #you know it's a long post if i added a read more to headcanons and it's still long without the read more #anyway my agenda includes loving ej caswell wbu?

[spencers-renaissance]

This Gravitational Pull

Summary: Penelope Garcia sets her two best friends Derek & Spencer up on a blind first date. Even with the best intentions and highest expectations, no-one could've predicted it would go quite this well.

Tags: fluff, first date, au: diff first meeting, shy spencer, insecurity, anxiety, flirting, cuddling, protective derek, silly amounts of affection

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

I started writing this and then realised that I'd set their date in a pub's beer garden? I googled it and apparently they are a thing in America so I kept it in. I don't know how common they are, but I hope it's all good and you can picture the setting just fine.

Spencer really wishes he hadn’t agreed to this blind date.

Not because he doesn’t trust Penelope — he does, he trusts her implicitly and entirely — but because it's a blisteringly hot day in late July and the heat compounded by his shaking nerves is making for a rather unpleasant sweating situation.

A bumblebee buzzes quietly around the table he’s sat at, briefly interested in the iced coffee he’s got his hands wrapped around, and Spencer watches it with a gentle sort of intrigue, able to briefly take his mind off the impending date. He knows that Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan is physically attractive, Penelope had made that more than clear with both her copious photos of him and the way she’s sung his praises since she started working at the FBI, but if anything, that just makes him more nervous. If Derek wasn’t his type, then he wouldn’t have as much to lose.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair as he heaves a small sigh. Worst case scenario, he can run home to his apartment, order Indian food, bury himself in the early edition of War and Peace he just won in an auction and forget that this date ever happened.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?”

A surprisingly deep and sexy voice has him looking up from the watch face he’s been staring at perhaps a little too intensely, and he’s instantly taken aback by the Greek God standing in front of him. He’d known Derek was attractive, he'd seen pictures of him, but no camera could ever hope to do someone so beautiful any semblance of justice.

“Uh, y-yes, um, yeah. That’s me.” He shakes his head to try and recover his awkward word stumbling before discreetly wiping his sweaty palm on his trousers and standing up to shake Derek’s hand. “You’re Derek?”

“The one and only,” Derek says cheekily, shooting Spencer a grin that already has his stomach churning with a mix of excitement and crippling nerves. “Penelope told me you were gorgeous, but let me tell you, she really undersold it, pretty boy.”

His cheeks instantly flush red as he fights to maintain eye contact, blinking owlishly at the other man. Did he really just say that?

“I was going to say the same thing.”

Derek’s grin only widens. “Well, it looks like Penelope matched us well, then.”

This time Spencer allows himself to briefly duck his head as a baffling mix of pleasure and mortification swim around his chest. He puts it down to inexperience. Any other explanation will only compound his embarrassment.

“She did,” he agrees, smiling over at Derek and hoping desperately that he’s managing to stay cooler on the outside than he is on the inside. “Do you want something to drink?”

Derek nods. “I’ll go and order a beer at the bar. Do you want anything or are you okay with that coffee?”

“Oh no, I’m fine, thank you,” Spencer says, and mentally he praises himself for finally getting out a coherent sentence that doesn’t sound hopelessly mangled and flustered.

He watches Derek as he strides into the pub, looking as cool and confident as his looks and personality allow, and he realises that he really does just have a way about him. The bar is relatively crowded due to the blinding heat on a Saturday afternoon, but the bartender serves him instantly, all the girls eyeing him interestedly and the guys knocking his shoulder and joking about with him as though they’re all easy, long-time friends.

It’s nice, Spencer thinks, to be the focus of someone like that’s attention. Derek could have his pick of most people drinking here, but he only has eyes for Spencer as he comes back out, holding a tall pint and wearing a happy, focused expression as he sits back down.

“Do you not drink?” Derek asks curiously and without judgement, gesturing to his coffee.

“I go out with my friends sometimes,” Spencer says, blushing again, “but I’m a bit of a lightweight, and that’s not the best state of mind to be in on any first date, let alone a blind one.”

Derek chuckles warmly at that, and the sound is a pleasant rumble reminiscent of a distant thunderstorm. Spencer wants to melt into it.

“I think I’d like to see you all messy on a night out, pretty boy,” Derek says wryly, still grinning shamelessly, and Spencer gets the distinct impression that this ‘pretty boy’ business is going to be a Thing between them.

Spencer cocks his head and takes a sip of his coffee through the long metal straw. “Maybe you’ll have to join us some time.”

“Does that mean we’re going on another date?” Derek asks, but before Spencer can panic that he’s said the wrong thing, he’s smoothly continuing. “Because I’m more than down for that.”

“You are?”

“Pretty boy, you ever looked in the mirror?” Derek demands playfully. “Add that to this cute little nerdy bashful doctor thing you got going on and you’re the whole package. Of course I want another date with you, and we’ve barely even started this one.”

Spencer flushes bright pink at that, and decides to move the conversation on before he melts into a literal puddle in the middle of this beer garden. “So you know Penelope through work?”

Derek gets the hint. “I was part of the group that arrested her, actually,” he chuckles, “and I thought she was gonna be a nightmare to work with when we gave her the option of working for the FBI instead of going to prison. But then she showed up on her first day decked out from head to toe in pink and yellow, her hair dyed back to her natural blonde, and the way she smiled when I called her baby girl… well, it was smooth sailing from then on. Did you know her back in her Black Queen days?”

“I was her one phone call,” Spencer answers, his face splitting into an easy grin as they discuss his favourite person on planet earth. “I was terrified she was going to jail and I’d lose her forever, so I was over the moon when you guys offered her that deal. We went to get our hair done together the very next day.”

“Oh yeah? And what did Pretty Boy have done to his hair, hm?”

Spencer blushes. “Let’s just say she wasn’t the only one who had a rebellious phase?”

“Now that I have got to know more about.”

“Save it for date number two, SSA Morgan,” Spencer shoots back, relaxing into the easy banter between them.

“Alright, alright, baby, I can do that,” he says, winking again. Thankfully, Spencer manages not to do an embarrassing impression of a traffic light this time. “How did you and Penelope meet?”

“Back in college actually,” Spencer nods. “She was sort of going off the rails after her parents’ death, but I think finding a scared 12 year old in her Geography elective helped her rein it in a bit. We’ve been glued at the hip pretty much since we met. Even when I went to MIT for a bit to complete my Engineering PhD, she came with me. Since her job back then was mostly hacking and some supplemental side jobs, it didn’t really matter where she was based, she was just hellbent on protecting me like she has ever since that first Geography class.”

“Wow,” Derek says, looking genuinely shocked as he leans back a little bit, eyeing Spencer with curious eyes. “You went to college when you were twelve? I’m glad you had Penelope because that could’ve been a disaster.”

“It kind of was,” Spencer nods, laughing a little. “But it meant that I had five degrees including three doctorates by the time I was twenty-one so I wasn’t too mad about it.”

Derek stares at him consideringly, the soft smile on his face making Spencer’s stomach fill with butterflies. “You’re quite the genius aren’t you?”

“Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Derek just stares at him.

“So, yeah, I guess I’m a genius?” he says bashfully.

Derek laughs, shaking his head. “Definitely a genius. I mean, Penelope told me you were clever, but this is like… insane. Are you sure you’re okay to go out with a mere mortal like me or should I see myself out?”

“Yeah actually, Derek, sorry, it’s not going to work out,” Spencer says, feigning seriousness. “I can’t be with anybody who’s not within twenty IQ points of me or doesn’t have at least two PhDs.”

“A good actor, too? What don’t you have going for you, pretty boy?” He laughs in that wild and free kind of way Spencer always wishes he could, and he wonders whether Derek could teach him how.

Derek watches him like there’s something special about Spencer as the sound of their laughter mingles, looks at him like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be but right here, right now, and the warm intensity of it has a buzz going in Spencer’s chest, a pleasant feeling he can’t imagine anything dousing, and he never wants Derek to take his eyes off him again. Not if this is how it’s always going to make him feel.

The hours of the afternoon fly by and all of a sudden the sun is setting and they’re feeling distinctly hungry.

“How do you feel about getting some street food and taking a wander down to the beach?” Derek suggests hopefully, and Spencer can’t help the wide grin that splits his cheeks at the idea.

“Let’s do it.”

The beach is slightly cooler than the garden now the sun is setting and a soft, salty breeze is floating in from the ocean, so they sit close together in the sand, sharing their servings of nachos and fries between them.

“What’s your family like?” Spencer asks, a little daringly after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence.

Derek smiles. “They’re amazing. It’s been just me, my mom, and my two sisters since I was ten years old, but I think losing my dad only brought us closer together, y’know? We had to learn from a young age how to rely on each other, and we were also taught the very valuable lesson of just how important family is and how nothing in life is guaranteed, so we’ve made every effort to be as close to one another as possible.”

Spencer watches with quiet admiration as Derek gushes about his family, and takes another bite of their nachos. “Do they live locally?”

“No, they’re all still back in Chicago,” Derek says. “It’s sad sometimes, being so far away from them, but they would have killed me if I’d stuck around back home just for them and hadn’t chased my dream of climbing the ladder of the FBI.”

Spencer nods, chuckling along with Derek as they stare out at the quiet, tumbling waves of the ocean.

“What about you?” Derek asks. “Are you close with your family?”

Shit. He hadn’t exactly considered that asking Derek about his family would lead to reverse questioning about his own. I mean, call him a genius all you want, but social interaction is not his area of expertise.

“Uh, it’s just me and my mom. She lives back in Vegas,” he explains, clearing his throat awkwardly as he hopes that’s enough to appease his date.

Truthfully, it probably would have been, but Derek doesn’t say anything immediately, and the silence feels like it’s choking him into admitting the truth, however much it makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip with anxiety. What if this is it? What if Derek doesn’t want to start something with someone who has a family history as fucked up as his? What if he reads between the lines and sees that Spencer could be just like his mom in the future, and thinks that starting a relationship is just too risky?

“She has paranoid schizophrenia,” he blurts out, the words rolling off his tongue without his express permission, and instead of shutting up, they just keep coming. “When my dad left when I was ten, I had to be her sole carer until I left for college at twelve, but even then she refused professional help and medication, so I was taking the train from Pasadena to Las Vegas every weekend to try and help her out, and it got messy a lot of the time. It was only when I turned eighteen that things got a little bit easier, and that was only because I betrayed her trust and had her sectioned into a Sanitorium.

“They’re amazing, they take really good care of her and I did my research obviously, but I think a part of her still resents me for doing that.”

He stares out at the ocean for a couple of seconds before he suddenly realises where he is and what he’s just done.

“Oh my god,” he says as horror and dread fill him from the bottom up, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just dumped all that on you, I’m sorry, just—”

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says gently, placing a reassuring hand on his back to get his attention. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m just happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me all of that, and besides, I asked the question, and I meant it. I wanted to know the answer.”

Spencer feels some of the panic recede a little, and he looks up at Derek to try and gauge whether he’s telling the truth. “Really?”

Derek’s expression only softens further. “Really.”

He relaxes a little further and leans into Derek’s side, smiling to himself when Derek wraps his arm fully around his waist, resting his head on top of Spencer’s.

“I feel like I’ve known you way longer than just four hours and fifty six minutes,” Spencer says eventually.

Derek chuckles, and this time Spencer can feel the low rumble against his cheek as well as hear it. “It might be the biggest cliche in the book, but I feel exactly the same, baby.”

“I think sharing street food on the beach while staring out at a sunset as romantic and beautiful as that one has cemented the cliches in this date enough already,” Spencer points out, laughing a little.

“That is very true,” Derek agrees, squeezing his hand against Spencer’s waist. “We could round all the cliches off with a kiss, if you’d like.”

Spencer sits upright, blushing again as he eyes Derek’s flirtatious but serious expression. “I’d like that a lot.”

Derek wastes no time in taking Spencer’s jaw in his hand and leaning in slowly to place a long, sensuous kiss to his lips. Spencer kisses back with as much control as is possible when your experience is next to none and you have one of the most beautiful men in the world turning your stomach inside out with his attention, but it seems to be enough for Derek because as soon as they pull away, he’s grinning widely.

“You’re quite the kisser, pretty boy.”

Spencer fights the blush but it comes anyway. “I like that.”

Derek’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The kiss?”

“No, the pet names.”

Derek’s expression smooths out and he smiles again, a little more tenderly than his usual cheeky grin. “Well, that’s good, because I have plenty more up my sleeve, sweetheart.”

Spencer flushes with pleasure this time and settles back against Derek’s side, observing the blue sea as they settle into silence once more.

“I’m not very used to all of this, by the way,” he says after a while, the sky slowly darkening.

“Used to what?”

“This. Kissing. Dating. Pet names.”

Derek looks down at Spencer to try and get a better look at his face. “Really? You could’ve fooled me.”

“I’ve only ever had one boyfriend before, and this is only the second date I’ve ever been on.”

“Any girlfriends?”

“Not really my area.”

“And this other date, was that with boyfriend number one?”

Spencer shakes his head against Derek’s shoulder. “No, I never went on a date with him. I met him in college and we were friends first, so we never really dated, just fell into a relationship.”

“Ah.” A brief silence settles over them again, but Derek doesn’t let it hang long. “You know I’m not bothered by any of that, right? You could have never dated anyone ever before or have screwed your way round half of California and DC and it wouldn’t matter a single bit. Not if you were here with me, right now.”

He laughs softly as Derek lightens the mood, and something in Spencer’s chest feels like it falls into place at that, like his last anxious reservation has been washed away and he can really move forward, forge onward with this scarily exciting endeavour.

“You’re a good man, Derek Morgan. You know that, right?”

Derek kisses the top of his head. “I do,” he says, “but I’m not sure it’s ever sounded quite as special falling from anyone else’s lips as it does falling from yours.”

Further down the beach, another wave crashes against the shore, and the colours of the sunset fade away slowly. People pack up their picnic baskets and head home, and seagulls attack their leftovers, but none of that matters, because right now, Spencer’s world is Derek Morgan.

Penelope Garcia deserves a medal.

(Yes, I've used that "yeah I guess I'm a genius" sequence in way too many fics, leave me ALONE. )

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[atlafan]

a/n: Hello! My lovely patrons said it was alright to post the first part of my new miniseries here. I hope you enjoy this because it’s a fun story. If you’d like to see what happens next, subscribe to my patreon! 

Warnings: angst and fluff, misunderstandings, some smoking of weed (THIS IS A SLOW BURN)

Words: 9.9K

Summary: Harry is 25, and decides to go to graduate school. He's in a film studies program, and becomes a GA for Dr. Casey Robertson, who he assumes is a man. When he goes to Casey's office for their first meeting, he realizes that Dr. Robertson is a woman. The two get along great as the semester progresses, and Harry starts to form a little crush on Casey. There's just one problem...she's engaged.

Harry thought he’d have his life together by now. His whole life he was told if he went to college, he’d be guaranteed a good job and a lasting career. He soon learned, however, that things wouldn’t be that simple. All he wanted to do was watch movies, and review them. He tried making a YouTube channel where he’d review the films he watched, but the videos didn’t get many views, and the few comments he’d get were pretty lewd.

He was sick of working at a grocery store during the day, and a bar at night. He barely had the time to do the things he liked, and he just wasn’t happy. So, he did what any other depressed twenty-five-year-old would do: he applied to graduate school. It made his parents happy since it would give him a break from having to pay off his student loans, and help him find some direction. Harry was able to secure a decent enough GA position that would pay him enough that he wouldn’t need to worry about a job, and he was able to find an apartment with some other graduate students.

So, there he was, enrolled into a Film Studies program, and he’d be a GA for the Writing, Literature, and Publishing undergraduate program. He wouldn’t be teaching or anything, but he would be helping out with a lot of grading and course design. He’d need to have office hours available, and be willing to work with students that have questions.

His roommates were nice enough. Two of them were in biology programs, and another was in art and animation program. Everyone had their own room, and they all had to share a bathroom, but it was okay. They were all adults, and all agreed on chores and how to keep things clean. The four all went out for drinks the first weekend they all moved in to get to know each other better. Harry could really see himself being friends with these people.

He was a little nervous about being a GA. He had to do a good job this semester in order to keep his grant money. It had been a while since he had been in a classroom, so he wasn’t sure how he’d do juggling his own classes and schoolwork along with helping a professor grade for their various courses. Luckily, a good chunk of Harry’s classes would be online, and he only needed to go to one in-person lecture. He got an email from the admin of the Writing and Literature department about meeting with a Dr. Robertson a week before classes start. This was the professor he’d be working with.

He wasn’t given a ton of information on what he needed, so he put his laptop in his backpack, threw on a pair of jeans and a nice button up, and headed out the door. He rolled up his sleeves and the ends of his jeans since it was a little hot out. His glasses were on, and his hair was still a little wet from his shower, but other than that he was feeling pretty confident in his look. He wanted to make a good first impression since he’d be working with this professor all year and not just the fall semester. Harry wondered what type of office he’d be given. He was hoping it would at least have a window, but he’d be grateful for whatever private area he’d be given. He was essentially being given a place to write and he wasn’t going to take it for granted.

As he enters the building, he realizes he has no idea where he’s going. He finds the directory, and sees that Dr. Robertson’s office is up on the second floor. He makes his way up, and takes a deep breath before heading down the hall to their office. As he approaches, he sees a woman with wild, wavy hair up in a high ponytail wearing black, high waist leggings, a slightly cropped tank top and sports bra combo, and was mumbling to herself as she rummaged through her bookshelves.

“Um, excuse me…” Harry speaks up.

“Oh!” The woman jumps. She sets her book down and pushes her glasses back up her nose. “You must be Harry, please, come in.” She waves him in.

“Are you Dr. Robertson?”

“I am.” She nods and extends her hand out for him to shake. “Have a seat.” Harry sits down in one of the chairs across from her desk. “You look a little confused.”

“It just doesn’t look like you were, um, expecting anyone…”

“I know, my office is a total disaster. I’m normally okay with organized chaos, but right now it’s just straight up chaos.” She chuckles. She notices Harry’s eyes drift to her cleavage for a moment. “I didn’t dress up for this since I knew I’d be cleaning things up around here, I apologize.”

“No! Uh, no need. I…I’m sorry, I thought you were a man…”

“Casey is a woman’s name.” She blinks.

“It’s also a man’s.” Harry runs a hand through his hair.

“Is it going to be a problem that I’m a woman?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“No, of course not. I guess I was just picturing some older guy with a dark office and a bottle of whiskey in the corner that he sips on out of crystal.” He chuckles nervously.

“Ah, well, you know what they say about people who assume.” She smirks.

“I’m not making a very good first impression, am I.” It wasn’t a question.

“That depends.” She leans back in her chair.

“On?”

“What your favorite movie is.” She grins. “As long as it’s not The Wolf of Wallstreet you’ll be fine.”

“I mean, it’s not, but I don’t mind that movie. I thought Leo’s performance was good.” Harry shrugs.

“It definitely was, but I don’t think it needed to be three hours long, nor did I need full frontal of Margot Robbie’s vagina, but that’s besides the point. What’s your favorite movie?”

“This is going to sound cliché, but…it’s Citizen Kane.”

“Is that your favorite because it truly is, or is it your favorite because someone told you it should be?”

“No, it’s genuinely my favorite. I’m a big fan of Orson Welles, I think the film was extremely innovative at the time, it still is by today’s standards. And I love how it was blatant commentary on the harms of yellow journalism. It’s cool to think back on how much trouble Welles had with the distribution for it too.” Harry realizes how excited he’s getting, and clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“Never apologize for the things you’re passionate about.”

“What, uh, what’s your favorite movie?”

“The Wedding Singer.” She smiles.

“Isn’t that an Adam Sandler movie?”

“It sure is.” She says proudly. “Look, I can admit that some of his movies aren’t great. However, I’ve written a ton of academic pieces on The Wedding Singer.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, during a time of uncertainty with AIDS there was LGBTQ representation. The actor that played George ended up coming out as transgender, and lived out her days proudly as a woman. Not to mention that Adam Sandler doesn’t use being gay as a punchline, like, ever. There’re always people of color represented in his films as well. And on a personal note, as a Jewish woman, it was always nice seeing that his characters were Jewish. That type of representation was really important to me as a kid.”

“Wow, I guess I never really thought about that.”

“Well, that’s why I have a PhD and you’re going for your master’s.” She smirks. “Teasing.” She pulls some papers out of her desk. “Okay, so this fall I’m teaching Advanced Screenwriting, Analyzing Screen Media, and two sections of freshman Composition. I’ll need you physically there during the composition classes since those will be the ones I’m going to be having you grading the work for. I’m all for helping first year students learn the basics, but I just don’t have the strength to grade their papers this year. Plus, it’ll be good for you to learn how to properly grade an array of work.”

“All that sounds good…you won’t need help with your other classes?”

“Maybe next semester. I teach a scriptwriting class in the spring, along with some other writing courses. You’re going to be taking some pretty high-level stuff this semester, I don’t want you getting overwhelmed.”

“You know what classes I’m taking?”

“Of course I do. I’d be stupid not to look into the person I’m going to be working with. Even though I’m not your graduate advisor, I hope you know I’d be happy to help you with whatever you need. Are you coming right from undergrad, or did you take some time off?”

“It’s been a few years since I’ve been in school. I’m twenty-five.”

“Sometimes it’s good to take some time off, figure out what you want to focus on. What exactly are you hoping to get out of a graduate film program?”

“I want to write high-level film reviews. I was hoping to make a video series, but it’s really tough to build a base on YouTube. I got discouraged.”

“If you ever want me to watch what you have out there already, I’d be more than happy to.”

“Sure, that’d be great. So, uh, where will my office be?”

“Oh, honey, did you think you were getting your own office?” She can’t help but giggle. “We’re not in the science building, GA’s don’t get their own offices over here.”

“How will students meet with me if they have questions?”

“They won’t need to meet with you, you’re not teaching.”

“But I’ll be grading, what if a student wants to question me on a grade?”

“Then they can come to me.” She shrugs.

“Dr. Robertson, where am I supposed to get my own work done?”

“Mi oficina es tu oficina.” She smiles. “You can work in here any time you like. I actually have a key for you.” She opens a drawer and pulls out a key. “Here you go, don’t lose that.”

“What if you’re meeting with a student?”

“As you can see, we have a lovely lounge at the end of the hall, you can go there and set up shop if you need to. You’re a GA, Mr. Styles, pay your dues. Now, here are my syllabi, and you should have gotten an email stating that you’ve been given access to all my courses. There are rubrics for all of the assignments as well, as long as you follow those you should have no problem grading.”

“Alright.” Harry takes the different sheets of paper from her, catching sight of the ring on her finger. “Are you married?” He wasn’t quite sure why he asked, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Hm? Oh, no.” She laughs. “Just engaged.” She extends her hand to look down at her ring. “Been engaged for over a year, we can’t seem to decide on a date. My fiancé is a lawyer, and a highly sought after one at that.”

“Why not just pick a random day to go to a courthouse?”

“Well, we both have big families, and we don’t want to disappoint any of them.” She sighs. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out at some point. Neither of us are really in a rush. We’ve been together five years, it’ll happen when it happens.” She studies Harry for a moment. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have anyone special?”

“Oh!” Harry’s cheeks redden. “Um, no…nothing serious, anyways.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone here. You should go to the GA meetings, meet others doing what you’re doing.”

“I’m living with three other GA’s, we’re getting along pretty well so far. But I’ll definitely check out when those meetings are.”

“Good.” She smiles.

“May I ask how old you are? You seem so accomplished, I mean…look at all of the degrees and certificates you have.” Harry motions to the various frames on the walls.

“Some of those are just recognition certificates. I’m twenty-eight. I did a 4+1 program to get my master’s so I could zip right along into a PhD program. I was lucky enough that I was hired on full-time after getting it. The department really values me.”

“That’s awesome.” Harry smiles. “Anything else you’d like me to know about your classes?”

“Not at the moment. Would you be comfortable giving me your cell number? Anything I can do to have less emails, you know?”

“I don’t mind.” Harry smiles again and takes out his phone, handing it to her.

“Thanks, it’ll be much easier to tell you if something changes last minute this way.” She texts herself before handing him back his phone.

“Your fiancé won’t mind you texting me?” Harry asks playfully, warming up to her a bit more.

“No, why would he? We’re not one of those couples who reads each other’s texts. My phone is my property just as his phone is his property. We trust each other.” She rests her elbows on her desk, putting even more of her cleavage on display for him without realizing it. “Besides that, I’m not trying to start an affair with my GA who should be very careful about flirting with me so that he doesn’t end up on some very thin ice.”

“I…I…I wasn’t-“

“You were being cheeky with me.” She crosses her arms over her chest as a smug smile sets on her lips. “I like to tease, Mr. Styles, you can relax your shoulders now.”

“I think it’s going to take me some time to get used to your sense of humor.” Harry says with a relaxed sigh.

“Well, you’re stuck with me for an entire year, so you’ve got plenty of time to figure me out. Now, if you don’t have any other questions, you can go on and enjoy the rest of your day.” She stands back up. “I need to continue organizing my books, and the rest of this mess.” Harry nods and stands up.

“It was nice to meet you. You know you can just call me Harry, right?”

“Sure.” She smiles. “I prefer to be called Dr. Robertson in the classroom, when we’re not in there you can just call me Casey.”

“Okay.” Harry smiles.

“Oh, wait! Are you free the day before classes start? I was hoping to take you to lunch as a sort of good luck thing.”

“I can definitely do lunch the day before classes start.”

As Harry walks back to his apartment, he can’t help but think about how cool Casey is. She’s a bit frazzled, yes, but she seems like someone Harry will be able to easily work with. At least he wouldn’t have to kiss the ass of some stuffy old professor. Casey’s ass is one Harry wouldn’t mind kissing, but she had a fiancé to take care of that for her. He had to admit, Casey was insanely attractive, but he’d politely just admire her from afar and respect that she was very much a taken woman. Besides that, it would be incredibly inappropriate to even try to start something up with the professor he was GA’ing for. No, he’d keep things professional. He wasn’t even looking for someone to be with right now anyways. If he felt the need to hook up with someone, he could either head down to the bars or download Tinder.

//

“Alright, if we could settle down and get started!” Casey shouts over the buzz of students talking in her first section of composition. “My name is Dr. Robertson, and that is what I’d prefer to be called. My pronouns are she/her. I encourage you all to be vocal about how you’d like to be addressed just the same. This is Mr. Styles, you may call him Harry. He’s going to be grading all of your work this semester, so you can send any and all excuses his way.” Casey grins and sits down on top of the desk at the front of the room. “Now, I’d like us all to go around the room and say your name, where you’re from, and what TV show you binged over the summer. I know for me, I rewatched Boy Meets World for the millionth time, and it was still just as good.”

Harry was impressed. Most of the time students hated ice breakers, but this was a pretty engaging one. Once the class of twenty-five is through, Casey goes over their course page in Canvas and the syllabus.

“Now, this specific course of composition has a topic, so we’re going to be writing about television this semester. If you don’t think you can write about that, then you may want to find another section of composition to take. I will say, we’re going to have a lot of fun in this class. We’re going to watch some interesting shows, and you may find that you’re ‘to watch’ list will have grown exponentially by the end of the semester.”

Casey asks if anyone has any questions, and a few do which causes some lively class discussion for the remainder of the period. She lets them go about fifteen minutes early. Harry walks over to her as she unplugs her laptop from the monitor on the lectern.

“Seems like the majority of them are going to enjoy the content for this class.” Harry tells her, but all she does is hum her response as she looks down at her phone. She sighs heavily before putting her phone in her pocket. “Everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Just figuring out what Daniel and I are going to have for dinner, nothing serious.” She waves him off as she slings her bag over her shoulder. “How are your classes going so far?” She asks as they walk out of the room and head towards her office.

“Pretty good, I don’t think anything is going to be too difficult for me. I have to watch a lot of movies, but I was expecting that.” Harry shrugs.

Once they’re in her office, Casey sits down at her desk, and Harry makes himself comfortable on her couch. This is the routine they had started since she took him for lunch a few days ago. They worked in a comfortable silence together, occasionally taking breaks to chat. Casey was happy she got assigned a GA that knew the difference between work and play. Her cell phone ends up ringing about five different times. By the fifth time Harry heard the buzzing, he couldn’t help but speak up.

“If you need to take that I can step out.” Harry says.

“No, it’s fine.” Casey sighs. “It’s just Daniel being Daniel.”

“What do you mean?”

“His time is more valuable than mine.” She rolls her eyes. “He knows I’m working.”

“What if it’s an emergency?”

“It’s not.”

“Casey, he’s called you five times-“

“It’s not an emergency, now mind your business.” She snaps and stands up with her phone in her hand. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Casey didn’t share too much personal stuff with Harry about her fiancé. When they had lunch together, she told Harry his name is Daniel, and she explained the type of law he practiced, but not much more than that. She didn’t get into how they met, or how he proposed. She didn’t even seem to be excited while talking about him like she did when she and Harry first met. Casey returns about ten minutes later, and sits back down in her chair.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Harry says softly.

“You didn’t.” She sighs. “I snapped at you for no good reason, I apologize.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Mhm.” She says without looking at him, and going into her email on her computer.

Harry furrows his brows as he looks at her, but gets back to what he was doing. If she didn’t want to talk about it then he wasn’t going to push her. Harry notices her resting her chin on her fist as she looks at the picture of her and Daniel that she had on her desk. She sighs heavily and shakes her head, returning to her emails.

“I have my lecture in a bit, so I’m gonna head out.” Harry says, putting his backpack on.

“Alright, have a good class.” She gives him a soft smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He smiles back. “See you tomorrow.”

//

Harry’s lecture was long and boring. It was a class all about black and white films, and the beginning of cinema up through the 1950’s. It would be a class full of dense reading materials and learning about theorists that Harry had only briefly learned about previously in undergrad. Normally this would be a class Harry would be really interested in, but the professor had to be at least 70, and he was quite monotone.

When he gets home to his apartment, he grabs a Bud Light out of the fridge, twists the cap off the top, then settles onto the couch. His roommates were all still in class and would be meeting up for pizza in a bit, so Harry had about an hour to himself before he was to go downtown to meet up for dinner. He takes his phone out and scrolls through his various notifications. Halfway through his beer he decides to text Casey.

Harry: any thoughts on Dr. Jensen?

Casey: oh god don’t tell me he’s teaching your lecture course…

Harry: yeah…so is he going to stay boring all semester?

Casey: that dinosaur should have retired years ago, I’m so sorry you have to have a class with him. Is it the early cinema through the 1950’s class?

Harry: that’s the one! The content is interesting enough, but I was on the verge of falling asleep the whole time, idk how I’m gonna survive an entire semester with the guy. Any tips on how to survive his course?

Casey: def make sure you keep up with the homework. He’s one of those jerks that’s been using the same syllabus for the last 20 yrs, so he doesn’t update his exams. I’d also recommend getting a recorder for his lectures, keeping up with notes is basically impossible during class, but if you can go back and listen he actually makes a lot of good points

Harry: you’re a lifesaver, thank you!! 😊

Casey: any time! I actually like a lot of the movies he has on his syllabus, so if you ever want a movie buddy just let me know!

Casey: I’ve got that couch in my office literally so I can comfortably watch movies

A sigh leaves Harry’s mouth when he sees that she rushed to make it known watching movies would only be an on-campus thing. Would it be so weird if she came to his apartment for a movie night?

Harry: that sounds great, I actually have to watch The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari by the end of the week. I’m sure you’ve seen it a million times though…

Casey: I have, but it’s one of my favorites so I won’t mind watching it again

Harry: really??

Casey: yeah! I love German Gothic films, I took a class solely on them in grad school, I can’t get enough. The makeup, the sharp edges, the harsh shadows, it was all just so interesting

He sees the time on his phone and realizes he needs to head downtown to meet up with his roommates. Harry wasn’t one for using his phone while eating with friends, so much to his dismay he has to end the conversation.

Harry: learn something new about you every day! I have to get going, meeting up for pizza with friends. Did you figure out what you and Daniel are having for dinner?

Casey: pasta…have fun with your friends!

Harry: a classic choice, I love pasta

He almost wished he hadn’t sent that last text. She didn’t respond to it. Harry groans at himself, and picks himself up to head outside. He couldn’t wait to stuff his face with some greasy pizza, drink some more beer, and just unwind with his new friends. It was nice being back in school and feeling like your responsibilities could be put on the back burner for a bit. Schoolwork was a less anxiety inducing thing to focus on, as opposed to what the fuck Harry was going to do with his life. Casey would be a great mentor for him. She was essentially doing what he thinks he’d like to be doing. He had an entire year to pick her brain, and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. With any luck he’d be her GA again next year, but he didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself.

//

Casey and Harry were getting along famously. It was nearly October, and they were already in perfect sync. She was beyond grateful for him and his speedy grading. He was a fast reader, and she was not, so having him grade all of those papers and forum posts for her composition courses freed her up to focus on the work in her other classes. Harry tried his best not to bring up Daniel. Any time he did, Casey seemed to shut down. He’d only ask because he wanted to make sure Daniel wasn’t doing anything abusive to Casey. She never came in with a scratch on her, but Daniel could easily be doing something mental. Daniel never showed up to Casey’s office. If Harry were engaged to Casey, he’d want to visit her all he could, but maybe Casey didn’t like being visited since she always had something to do.

“Hey, Casey, what’s this faculty Halloween party about?” Harry asks her one Thursday afternoon. “I got an e-vite for it.”

“Oh! I forgot they put you on the faculty email list. You should go, it’s a lot of fun. It’s a great way for all of us to get together outside of the monthly faculty meetings. Everyone dresses up, it’s at one of the bars downtown. We get two drink tickets, and the rest you buy yourself.”

“Do other GA’s go?”

“Sometimes.” Casey nods. “It would be a good way for you to meet some of the other GA’s, and other faculty members. You can never have too many of us in your corner.”

“That’s true. What do you think I should dress up as? Like, how all out do people go?”

“Definitely keep it classy, appropriate, but don’t be afraid to have fun. Daniel and I usually do a couple’s costume. We have so much fun going to the store every year and figuring out what we want to do. It works out great cause his law firm has a costume party every year too.” She smiles. “We’re headed to the fabric store this weekend actually to start thinking of ideas.”

“Oh, that’s good. Um, what have you gone as in the past?”

“I’ll show you!” Casey grabs her phone, and wheels herself closer to Harry so he can see. “Last year we went as Bob and Linda from Bob’s Burgers, the year before that we went as vampires, and the year before that we went as Cosmo and Wanda from The Fairly Oddparents.”

“Aw, you guys looks so happy.”

“Yeah.” Casey swallows and locks her phone, wheeling back over to her desk. “Can’t wait to see what we come up with this year.” She mutters as she gets back to her work.

“I’ll have to really think about it. I haven’t dressed up for Halloween in forever.”

“Your friends didn’t have parties?”

“They did, but I was usually working. The bar I worked at had costume contests and stuff, so we were always busy. I’d get too hot from running around to dress up as anything.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Hmm…” She taps her chin as she thinks. “You could go as, like, a baseball player or something.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to see me in a pair of those tight pants.” Harry smirks.

“I see you in tight pants every day, it wouldn’t be anything new.” She says smugly before turning away from him.

“I do not wear tight pants every day.” Harry scoffs. “They may be tight in certain places, but it’s not like I’m walking around in skinny jeans.”

“True.” She side eyes him. “Maybe you could go as a Jonas Brother, all of them wear tight pants, or they used to.”

“I don’t think anyone at that party would get the reference.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t help you think of anything.” She shrugs.

Harry chuckles softly as he gets back to grading papers. He loved when Casey would tease him. He had grown a lot more comfortable with her sense of humor, and they would often end up in hysterics from their banter.

“Casey.” A tall man with salt and pepper hair wearing an expensive looking suit stands in the doorway. He was holding a small bouquet of flowers, and his eyes looked tired. “Baby, can I take you to lunch?”

“Daniel, I’m working.” Casey stands up. “Harry, this is my fiancé, Daniel. Daniel, this is my GA, Harry.”

“Hi, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Daniel says to Harry, then turns his attention back to Casey. “Please, you didn’t pack a lunch this morning. Let me take you out.”

Casey sighs, and ushers Daniel out into the hallway.

“You can’t just show up like this.” She says quietly.

“I’m really trying here, Honey.”

“I only have an hour, so we need to go somewhere quick.”

“That’s fine, uh, I got these for you. Know how much you like tulips.”

“These aren’t even season.” She smiles as she takes the flowers from him. “Thank you, Sweetheart, let me just go grab my jacket.” Casey goes back into her office and grabs her things. “Harry, I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Okay, I’ll probably be in class by the time you get back.”

“Alright.” She nods, and zips up her jacket.

“Do you want me to put those in some water for you?” He asks, nodding towards the flowers.

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s alright. They won’t last more than a few days as it is. It’s not worth it.”

//

Harry had ended up putting together a Clark Kent costume by wearing a light-wash pair of jeans, some converse, a Superman tee shirt with a jacket over it half zipped, and his glasses. He styled his hair to give the front an extra curl. The faculty would definitely be able to see the effort, but it also didn’t look like Harry was trying too hard. He heads downtown to the bar with his roommates, as they were all invited too. They all decided to be super heroes in disguise, so they made sure to take a ton of pictures before going to the party. Harry’s jaw nearly hits the floor when he spots Casey wearing a Morticia Addams costume. Even though Casey wasn’t showing much skin, her off the shoulder dress was leaving little to the imagination.

“Excuse me.” Harry says to his friends before making his way over to Casey. “Hi.”

“Harry!” She beams. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Me too, uh, what do you think of my costume?”

“I love it! Very cute and creative.” She smiles. “No one ever really thinks about dressing as the secret identity.”

“Casey, don’t you look lovely!” Dr. Lind says to her. “Where’s your Gomez?”

“Oh, uh, Daniel’s busy working a case. He couldn’t get away and I told him not to worry about it.” Casey explains.

“Aw, that’s too bad. It’s been ages since we’ve seen him. Have you two picked a date yet?”

“No, not yet. We both have had a lot going on, and we can’t seem to agree on the best time to do it. I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon.”

“You two should just elope, get it done at a courthouse and then have a big party for your families. I mean, the point of being engaged is not to stay engaged.”

“It’s only been a little over a year.” Casey mutters.

“I know, Dear, but you-“

“You know what’s great about being in a monogamous relationship? What happens between Daniel and I is between Daniel and I, none of this really concerns you, Nancy. I appreciate your input, but it’s not needed, excuse me.” Casey has to bite back tears as she walks away.

“My goodness, I didn’t mean to upset her.” Dr. Lind says to Harry.

“I’ll go see if she’s alright.” Harry finds Casey getting a new drink from the bar. He pulls her to the side to have a private word. “Dr. Lind always oversteps, she had no right to speak about what you should be doing.”

“I know that.” Casey says, looking away.

“Did Daniel really have to work late tonight?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“Harry, I don’t want to talk about it.” She says before sipping on her drink. “I just want to have a good time tonight and not think about it, alright?”

“I can respect that, but I don’t think drinking your problems away is a great idea.”

“Harry, no offense, but I don’t need your opinion on this.” She brushes by him and goes to speak with some of her other friends.

A few hours pass, and it was starting to get a little stuffy in the bar, so Harry heads out for some fresh air. He sees Casey outside with a cigarette between her fingers. As he gets closer, he realizes it’s not a cigarette.

“Casey, are you smoking weed?” Harry asks her.

“It’s medicinal.” She mutters, blowing smoke in the opposite direction as to not hit him in the face with it. “It’s for my anxiety.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to take an edible?”

“Not when I need it to work right away.”

“Did you drive yourself here tonight?”

“I did, but I can just take an uber home.” She shrugs. “I came out for some air.”

“So did I.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to pry into your life, but things won’t get better if you keep shit bottled up.”

“I just prefer to keep my private life private.”

“Believe me, I get that, but…god, I wish you’d just talk to me, I’m your friend.”

“Daniel and I had an argument earlier and I told him not to come with me because I didn’t want to pretend like everything was fine. I couldn’t stand in that bar around my friends and colleagues pretending like everything’s fine with him when it’s not. We’re far from fine, and we have been for a while.”

“Did something happen?”

“The morning before the day I first took you out to lunch he told me he was up for a promotion at the firm…partner.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It would have been if it didn’t involve us having to move to New York. He took the bar exam out there without telling me, and he passed. They want him out there to work on larger cases, as a defense attorney. I wouldn’t have been opposed to moving, but he just assumed that I would. He said I could teach anywhere with no regard with how I’d feel about leaving this institution, our friends, and family behind. And then he told me it wouldn’t even matter because he’d be making enough money for me to never have to work another day in my life and that I could just stay home taking care of our future children.”

“That’s a bit old fashioned.”

“It is, which was shocking to me because he’s never acted that way towards me. He’s always been so modern, so progressive. I think he was given advice from the wrong people. Anyways, he took the job in New York because he basically had to, he would have been stupid not to take it, so we’ve only been seeing each other on weekends. And when we do see each other, we just end up fighting…we don’t even sleep in the same room.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what we’re doing anymore.” Her voice cracks, but she swallows her tears down. She spent too long on her makeup to ruin it from crying. “We’ve grown apart, it’s as simple as that, but neither of us have the courage to end it. I love him so much, but lately…lately I’ve been feeling like love just isn’t enough.” She looks up at Harry who had been nice enough to stand out in the cold with her to listen to all of her woes.

“I’m so sorry.” It’s all he can think to say. “You should be home with him…trying to work it out.”

“I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough today. I told him to just go back to New York. He’s got a whole new life out there. I’ve been to his apartment a few times, and I didn’t feel like I fit in at all. I don’t even know why he still wants me, he could easily find someone new out there.”

“How could he not want you?” Harry steps a little closer to her. “You’re smart, funny, and…you’re a knockout. If I were him and I saw you about to leave the house looking like this, well…I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“Why, so you could tell me to change into something less form fitting?” She scoffs as she crosses her arms over her chest. Her blunt all but forgotten.

“I would have asked you to take the dress off, that’s for certain. As far getting something back on…” Harry takes another step closer to Casey, making her cheeks feel warm.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not Daniel.”

“I didn’t have much to drink tonight. Let me drive you home, and I’ll take the uber back to my apartment. That way you don’t have to worry about coming back for your car tomorrow.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not, I’m making a suggestion.”

“Okay, yeah, if you don’t mind. I only live, like, fifteen minutes from here. We, uh, rent a townhome.”

Casey hands Harry her keys, and they make their way around the building to the parking lot. The drive is quiet. Casey could feel her eyes starting to droop. Harry had the heat cranked since it had gotten chilly. He watches the map on the navigation screen to make sure he makes the right turns to her house. He pulls into her driveway, and orders his uber.

“Thank you for driving.” Casey says.

“Any time.” Harry smiles and gets out of the car. He jogs around to the other side to open her door, and walks her up her front steps. “You gonna be okay?” He rubs his hands up and down her arms to keep her warm.

“Yeah.” She smiles softly up at him. “Harry, I-“ The front door opens with Daniel standing there.

“Casey, thank god, Baby, I’m so sorry.” He wraps his arms around her, kissing her without acknowledging Harry. “No argument is worth you leaving angry like that for.” He kisses her again.

“Daniel.” She pushes him off of her. “Harry’s here, he drove me home.”

“Oh! Sorry about that.” Daniel says. “Thanks for driving her, man.”

“No problem.” Harry’s uber pulls up in front of the house. “That’s my ride, uh, have a nice night.”

Harry’s gaze lingers on Casey for a moment before making his way to the car. Daniel leads Casey inside the house.

“Did you have a good time?” Daniel asks her as they both walk into the kitchen.

“I guess.” She shrugs. “Would have been more fun if my Gomez had been there with me.” She pouts at him.

“You told me you didn’t want me there.”

“I also told you to go back to New York, so clearly your listening skills are selective.”

“I was so mad at you that I actually almost left, but I couldn’t make it out of the driveway.” He comes over to her, caressing her cheek. “Casey, I want to figure all of this out with you. I don’t want to fight anymore, and I’m sick of sleeping alone.”

“I feel the same way. Let me take all of this off and put on some pj’s, and then we can talk.”

“Okay.” He smiles. “Want me to make you some tea?”

“That’d be great, thank you.”

//

Casey: I’m not able to come in today, I’m not feeling great…do you think you could handle my classes today? You can have comp peer edit their papers, and my other classes can just watch a movie

Harry: sure! Is there anything else you need?

Casey: just some rest, thanks for understanding

Harry had wondered for the rest of the weekend how things went between Casey and Daniel. Maybe he hung around and they were going to spend Monday together. All in all, he hoped Casey was okay. Her Monday classes were sad not to see their beloved Dr. Robertson, but many of the girls in class had no problem with Harry taking over for the day.

As a lark, Harry picked up some pepto bismol and other things that might make someone sick feel better. He pulls up to Casey’s house, and sighs with relief when he doesn’t see Daniel’s car. He rings the doorbell, and waits for Casey to open door.

“H-Harry?” She says as she opens the door. She had on an oversized, quarter-zip fleece and a pair of joggers. Her hair was in a loose, low ponytail with some strands left out in front. Her eyes were red and puffy, as was her nose.

“Hey, I…I brought you some pepto and some other stuff that might make you feel better. I didn’t know if you caught a cold or…are you okay?”

“Oh, Harry!” She wails, and throws her body into his, crying into his chest. Harry wraps his arms around her and moves them both further into the house, closing the door. “I’m not sick.” She sniffles as she looks up at him. “I’m…heartbroken.”

“What happened?”

“Daniel and I broke up.” Her voice cracks, and she shoves her face back into his chest. He holds her close and rubs her back. “We stayed up all night on Saturday talking.” She hiccups, stepping back from him and leading him into her living room. “We watched the sun come up in tears.” They both sit down on her sofa. There was a somewhat tattered blanket that she snatches, hugging it to her chest. “We just couldn’t come to a compromise that worked well enough for the both of us.” She pauses for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “We didn’t yell or argue, we just talked everything out. He agreed that we grew apart and that we still loved each other very much. He was feeling defeated because he felt like he was the only one trying. I knew I stopped trying because I just didn’t have the strength anymore. He’s coming back next weekend to pack up the rest of his things. After we got some sleep on Sunday we went out to get him some boxes, and he packed as much as he could into his car. Five years over and done with just like that.”

“Casey, I’m so sorry.”

“I just needed today to, like, rest and regroup, but I just spent it crying…mourning the loss of my relationship.”

“That sounds like a pretty healthy way to deal with it.”

“Every time I tried to sleep, I just cried. I haven’t eaten all day, I’ve just been in here…wallowing.” She laughs coldly at herself.

“Let me make you something to eat. Do you have food in the kitchen?”

“Harry, you don’t have to. I know you have homework to do.” She frowns.

“My bag’s in the car. I can make you some dinner, and I can work on my assignments. I can even put on one of the movies I need to watch.”

“You really don’t have to babysit me. I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself.”

“Casey, I want to help. Why don’t you go take a shower or something? I’m sure I’ll be able to find my way around your kitchen. I can just whip up some pasta.”

“You’re very kind, thank you.” She sniffles. “A shower sounds nice, I’ll go do that.”

By the time Casey gets downstairs, all cozy in a fresh fleece and pair of sweatpants, Harry had finished making some ziti mixed with some peas. He seasoned it with some parmesan cheese, pepper, and adobo.

“Hey.” He smiles when he sees her.

“Smells good in here.” She smiles back, hopping up onto one of the stools at her kitchen island. Harry puts a bowl of food in front of her before sitting down next to her. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me, would you?”

“I can’t help it.” Her bottom lip quivers as she takes a bite of food. “This is just so nice of you.” She sniffles.

“Casey, come on.” Harry chuckles and cradles her cheeks to thumb her tears away. “Can’t have you crying into your dinner.” He pouts cutely at her making her giggle before letting her go.

Harry eats while getting some work done, typing away at his computer. Casey eats her dinner slowly, not wanting to overwhelm her empty stomach. She also got her period earlier in the day, so she knew her tears had to have been in overdrive because of that. She finishes her food with a sigh and sets her fork down.

“All done?” Harry asks softly.

“Mhm, I can clean up.”

“No, let me-“

“Harry, I’m not helpless, please.” She hops off her stool and takes both of their bowls and put them in the dishwasher. “Did you figure out which movie you need to watch for class?”

“I have a choice between Some Like it Hot and The Apartment.”

“God, I can’t stand The Apartment.” Casey groans. “Let’s watch Some Like it Hot, it’s way more entertaining. I actually have it on DVD.”

“Oh, perfect.” Harry follows Casey into her living room, and he sits down as she sets the movie up. “I’ve never seen this one before.”

“Really? You’ll love it, it’s a classic. Marilyn Monroe is in it, and she’s just wonderful.” Casey sits down and hits play on the remote. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“I’m all set, thank you.” Harry smiles, sitting back into the couch, making himself more comfortable. “You feeling a little better now that you’ve eaten?”

“Yeah, I-“ Casey’s phone starts ringing, and she sees that it’s Daniel. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.” Casey gets up quickly, and makes her way upstairs. “Hi…”

“Hi.”

“You don’t sound great.” Casey says softly.

“Been crying all day.”

“Me too.” She sighs.

“Are we sure we’re doing the right thing? If it hurts this much, shouldn’t we try to find a way to make this work?”

“Daniel, we went round in circles all weekend. You’re staying in New York, and I’m staying here. I don’t want you sacrificing your career for me. We’re not the same people we were five years ago…we’re both different now. I…I don’t want to wait for things to get started anymore.”

“So, you’d rather start over with someone new than just wait a little longer to get married to someone you know and love?”

“I want to marry someone who doesn’t lie to me about a promotion! You didn’t even talk to me before you accepted. It was like I didn’t even matter in your life, Daniel, don’t you understand that?”

“I know it was wrong of me to do that, I just thought you’d be on board…”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Apparently so.” There’s a beat of silence between them. “I’ll be coming back late on Friday. I should be able to pack everything else up during the weekend.”

“Okay, do you want me to stay with Lola? Like, do you not want me here?”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your own home, Casey. Besides, I’ll need you there so we can properly divide things up.”

“Right, yeah…”

“And we didn’t exactly get to have a, uh, proper goodbye.”

“Daniel.” Casey giggles. “I don’t think doing it one last time would be a good idea.”

“I’m not saying we need to plan it out, but if it happens…”

“We’ll see. I really am sorry we couldn’t compromise on things.”

“Me too. Well, I’ll let you go now. Sleep well.”

“You too.” Casey sighs as she hangs up, and makes her way downstairs. “Hey, Harry, if it’s all the same, I think I’m gonna just go to bed, but you can borrow the DVD if you want.”

“Oh! Okay.” Harry pauses the movie and stands up. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just hormonal and tired. I’m ready to just crawl into bed and get cozy. I want to have a fresh start tomorrow.”

“Right, makes sense.” Harry gathers his things, and Casey walks him to the door.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming by.”

“All I did was make a little dinner.” Harry shrugs.

“It was more than that and you know it.” She pokes his chest playfully. “You’re a great friend.” She opens her arms up for him, and he gladly accepts her hug. He holds her close to him, maybe for a beat too long, but he likes the way she feels pressed up against him. Harry was also known for not being the first person to end a hug. Casey’s arms start to loosen around him, and he looks down at her. Her eyes widen when she sees Harry start to lean in. “Woah, what are you doing?” She steps back from him.

“N-nothing.” His face flushes.

“Were you just going to try to kiss me?”

“What, no! Of course not.” He swallows.

“Yes you were!” She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath before looking at him. “Hi, I just broke up with my fiancé, who I’ve been with for over five years, what part of that made you think it was a good time to pull a move on me? Was all of this because you just wanted to try and get a piece?”

“Casey, that’s not what’s happening. I genuinely came to check on you. I…I just misread a signal, that’s all.”

“What signal? I literally just said you were a good friend and hugged you!” She puts her hands on her hips and frowns at him. “I’m really disappointed in you, Harry. You never struck me as the kind of guy to be nice to a girl just to try to-“

“I’m not one of those guys.” He shakes his head. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or disrespect you, I just thought…”

“Harry, you’re my GA.”

“I know.”

“It would be highly inappropriate for us to get involved. I mean, I know I’m only three years older than you, but at the end of the day I have a position of power over you. You’re a bright man, Harry, don’t be stupid and risk messing up your future because you have a crush.”

Harry looks down at his shoes, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I understand what you’re saying.” He looks up at her. “But you haven’t said that you don’t like me back.” He smirks, making her mouth fall open. She was speechless. “Sleep tight, Casey.” Harry turns and opens the door, letting himself out. Casey stands in her doorway.

“You’re on thin ice, Styles!” She calls after him.

“I’ll make sure to step with caution, Dr. Robertson!” He shouts back before getting into his car.

Casey shuts her door, and sighs, leaning against it for a moment before bringing herself up to bed. She goes through her nightly routine, and gets herself settled into her sheets. She knew there was an underlying reason as to why she didn’t want to try harder with Daniel. The more she got to know Harry, the more she’d dread coming home to her now ex-fiancé. She used to love coming home to Daniel and recounting their days, but she realized she just didn’t care about his cases anymore. She wanted to have high level talks about film and media. Daniel would always listen, but he never really understood why Casey was so passionate about her work. To him, it all just seemed like a hobby rather than a career. Harry, on the other hand, had the same passions as her. He understood how stimulating talk about film and media could be. She wasn’t having sexual feelings towards Harry, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the emotional attachment that begun. She figured maybe she couldn’t love Daniel that much if she’d rather spend extra hours in her office with Harry instead of trying to get home to Daniel before heading back to New York. It pained her, but that was the truth. Tonight confirmed that Harry was definitely into Casey. Now all Casey had to do was figure out how she felt about Harry, but she needed to get over Daniel first.

//

“You’re here early.” Casey says to Harry the next morning.

“I wanted to talk to you about last night. I feel really bad about how I acted. I thought that maybe we were having a moment. I apologize for misreading things. Kept me up all night.”

“Have a seat.” She motions to her couch and he sits down. She turns in her seat to face him. “Don’t worry about last night. I was in a vulnerable state, and I was more affectionate than I should have been. Nothing really happened between us, so it’s all good. It’s going to take me some time to get over Daniel. Five years is a long time to be committed to one person. I’m seeing him again this weekend, and who knows what could happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“We could easily get back together, and then what? The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Besides that, you’re my GA, it would be wrong. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. It’s not like…I mean…it’s nothing, okay? Think I’m just into you cause we have so much in common. And I really look up to you. You’re so accomplished, you know?”

“A smart woman doesn’t intimidate you?”

“Not at all.” He shakes his head. “I think smart women are incredibly”, Harry gets up from his seat and sits on the edge of Casey’s desk, “incredibly sexy.”

“You’re not really sorry for trying to kiss me last night, are you?” She smirks up at him.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you and for overstepping a boundary.” A grins starts to pull on his lips. “But I’m not sorry that it’s lead to you admitting that you like me.”

“I never said I liked you.”

“You never said you didn’t.”

“Harry.” Casey sighs.

“Listen”, Harry gets off her desk and sits back down on the couch, taking out his laptop. “take as much time as you need to get over Daniel. I’ll be right here when you’re ready for me.” He peers up at her from his laptop, smiling from ear to ear.

“You’re insufferable.” She shakes her head, getting back to her own work.

“And yet, here we are.”

“Harry, it’s 8:30 in the morning, we don’t have class until 10. Do me a favor and stay quiet until then, yeah?”

He makes a motion as to zip his lips, making Casey chuckle and roll her eyes. Later that day, when Harry had to leave for his own lecture, Casey snuck off to go see her friend, Lola, who works in the financial aid office.

“You busy?” Casey asks her friend as she sits down.

“I’m always free for you, Honey.” Lola smiles warmly. “What’s up?”

“Um…Daniel and I decided to officially end things over the weekend.” Casey says quietly. Lola had a cubicle to herself, but there were always wandering ears.

“Oh my god! I knew you guys were on the rocks, but holy shit.”

“He didn’t want to give up New York, and I didn’t want to give up here. It sucks, I’m totally heartbroken.” Casey frowns, trying not to cry again.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come over or something.”

“Well, I sort of just wanted to be alone…um, but someone came by to take care of me.”

“Oh, who?”

“H-Harry.”

“Your GA?!” Lola whisper-screams, and Casey nods. “Holy fuck, did anything happen?”

“No.” Casey shakes her head. “He just made me dinner…but he tried to kiss me before he left. I called him out on it, but…I don’t know, like, I…fuck.” Casey pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “I don’t really know how to articulate this.”

“You find your GA, who happens to only be three years younger than you, attractive.” Lola says for Casey.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it. But I don’t want to get involved with anyone else right now. I still love Daniel, like, my heart is still with him.”

“But you also think you like Harry.”

“Well, what’s not to like about him? He makes me laugh, I like talking to him, he’s very sweet…and…fuck, I can’t even think like this. This is so unethical of me. If this were a male professor with a female GA, I’d be totally against it.”

“Yes, but that’s not the situation. You’re twenty-eight, he’s twenty-five, it’d be weird if you didn’t fall for each other.”

“I feel like it’s like when you fall for your therapist, you know? Like, what if he just likes me because he looks up to me? I shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought of this, right? It’s got to be against the rules.”

“Are you his professor?”

“Of course not, you know I don’t teach graduate level courses.”

“So, he in no way is going to be graded by you?”

“No.”

“And he could have easily been assigned to any other professor in the department. There was no special request on your part. And again, he’s twenty-five-years-old, it’s not like he’s some naïve twenty-one-year-old kid who just finished undergrad, you know?”

“That’s true.” Casey chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t know, think I need to get over my break up before I do anything.”

“I think that’s a good idea. You were together for over five years, that’s not something you’ll get over in a day, Babe. What do you say you and I grab drinks this weekend?”

“I can’t, Daniel’s coming back to pack up the rest of his things and he wants me there.”

“Alright, how about on Thursday? We can go for happy hour downtown after I get out.”

“Yeah, okay.” Casey nods. “Think I could definitely use some girl time, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Don’t overthink this Harry thing either. It’s not a problem yet, so don’t turn it into one.”

“You’re right, it’s just been a little flirting, it’s not like anything’s actually happened between us. If he really likes me, he’ll be patient.”

“And don’t forget, you’re worth the wait.”

#harry styles #tell me I'm the only one #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles x oc #harry styles series #harry styles au #GA!Harry #GArry

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Eleven

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: first chapter after acosf!! im sorry for how short this one is, but acosf wrecked me and writing this put me back together. i hope it does something similar for you ❤️

***

“You say you’ve been doing better lately?”

The therapist’s office is plain, a little gloomy, but big windows overlook the center of town that make Nesta feel less suffocated.

She nods, “Yeah.”

“How would you describe ‘better’?” Dr. Bond— Lana, she insists on being called— has been endlessly patient with Nesta’s non-answers so far. Nesta almost feels bad and decides to throw the woman a rope.

“I’m not alone anymore,” she says. “I used to be alone all the time, but now I have friends, sort of… and a boyfriend.” She still loves that word. It’s never tasted so exciting before.

“You were always alone before this, then? Or were there just people that you didn’t consider noteworthy?”

A scowl rises to Nesta’s mouth. Damn, she works quick. “I was raised with two sisters in a one-bedroom apartment. I never got to be alone, but then I grew up, and…” Her mind wants to skip over the time she spent in college. “For the last couple of years, I holed up in my own place. Never wanted to talk to anybody or see them. If people took an interest in me, I shut them down because I didn’t have an interest in them.”

“You missed a few years,” Lana notes.

“What?”

“You’re twenty-four, and you moved out at eighteen. Where were you before getting your own place?”

Numbness seeps through Nesta at the question. She knows she can ask Lana to change the topic, but that will only bring it back later. “I had a boyfriend in college,” she says flatly. “I lived with him for a few years, but like you said, it isn’t noteworthy.”

“As a fellow lone wolf, I disagree.” Lana’s clinical polite face is unchanging. “Any person who you trust enough to let into your life is noteworthy.”

Nesta says nothing.

“I’m interested in these people you’ve chosen to trust,” her therapist continues after a beat of silence. “Why don’t we start with whoever you trust most?”

Nesta snorts. This she can talk about.

“His name is Cassian. I’ve been living with him ever since my apartment got flooded a couple of months ago, and he’s always been a good friend to me.” She sits there, thinking about what else to say. “I think I like him more than I’ve ever liked anybody.”

“This is the new boyfriend?”

Nesta nods.

“Do you compare him to the old one?”

Nesta doesn’t know what this lady’s angle is, but she answers carefully, “I used to. Back when I first moved in. I haven’t done it in a long time, though.”

“Why not?”

The answer is simple. “There’s no need to. He’s not comparable to anybody.”

“Is that why you opened up to him after two years of self-imposed isolation?”

Nesta looks away. “It wasn’t isolation,” she defends. “It’s just… after a lifetime of being subjected to the gaze of strangers, I wanted to hide. I liked hiding.” Mostly.

“What does that mean, the gaze of strangers?”

Question after cool question, this one. Nesta struggles to find a proper answer.

“You know how,” she starts slowly, “as soon as you start school, you’re placed into this bubble with a bunch of people who don’t know you and have no reason to care about you? There’s a shift in how you view people, and how people view you. And I thought I could leave it behind once I graduated high school, but it followed me to college and to parties and into everyday interactions.”

“What is it?”

“It’s this—” Nesta waves her hands, “judgment. It’s that thing you do as soon as you meet someone, and you try to determine whether they’re worth your time or not. Whether they’re above or below you in this made-up social hierarchy in your head.”

“Explain that more,” Lana says.

“We want to hang around people we find cool. And when we meet someone new, we inspect them, look them up and down, to see if they fit our definition of cool. We take them apart. Everyone does it, even you. And with me,” she shrugs, “I’m pretty, I wear the right clothes, I do my makeup. So at first glance, people think, ‘Oh, I can see myself getting to know her better. I can see myself liking her.’ But then they take a closer look at me, and it’s like…” Her fingers flutter in the air, trying to support her thoughts. “I can see their minds changing. ‘Nevermind, I was wrong. Nevermind, there’s something off with her. She’s a little quiet, a little weird, a little bitchy.’”

Lana narrows her eyes. “And Cassian doesn’t look at you like that?”

Nesta looks away. “He doesn’t look at anyone like that.”

It’s what used to make her so uncomfortable about him. She was incapable of fathoming his honesty, his genuineness, his kindness. She thought he was even weirder than her for it— she placed him beneath her on her social hierarchy for it.

Lana frowns thoughtfully. “And now you two live together?”

Nesta nods, then shrugs. “For the next twenty-four hours, we do. He’s helping me move back into my old place.”

Because that was another conversation she and Cassian had on Thanksgiving night. It was a long time coming, but also the perfect time.

“You’re saying your apartment has been ready for weeks? Why are you just telling me now?”

Nesta pillowed her face on his chest, not as upset at revealing the news as she would have been some days ago. “Because I was scared that if I moved out, I would lose my friendship with you.”

“That never would have happened—”

“We wouldn’t see each other every day anymore. Even if we didn’t go back to being complete strangers, the closeness would be lost.”

“You must not know me, then. I would’ve texted you every fucking hour. You’d never hear the end of me.”

“I couldn’t guarantee that back then.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “I can now.” She crawled higher up his body, lowering her voice to a secretive pitch. “Want to know why?”

“Why?” he whispered.

“Because you’re mine now. And that’s what I was waiting for while I made Lorene hold that shitty empty apartment for me. I was waiting for a catalyst, a revelation.” She pressed a kiss to his sternum. “And I most definitely got it.” The pleasant ache between her legs was proof enough. “Also,” she added, “it would be weird if you lived with your girlfriend before even having a first date with her.”

Cassian huffed a laugh. “You have a point there. We have been moving backwards, haven’t we?”

Nesta nodded into his skin.

He got a little quiet. “Still,” he said after a moment. “I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll see me every day. I’ll be fifteen minutes away.”

“I’ll still miss you.”

“I know.”

“What does talking about guys have to do with my therapy?” Nesta squirms, getting restless with the topic.

“Lots of things,” Lana says, putting down her notepad. “It gets you comfortable with expressing your feelings to me, and it teaches me about how you view the world. Besides, therapy isn’t just a rehashing of past traumas, you know. We can talk about whatever you want here, especially if it makes you feel good.”

“Well, I want to talk about something else.” She’s not spending this much money by the hour just to talk about how much she likes Cassian— she can go to Cassian for that for free.

“Like what?” Lana asks smoothly.

She’s offering an opening, finally, to the real reason that Nesta’s here.

Nesta pulls at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, wondering where to start. “I feel like I’ve been growing up lately,” she says carefully. “I have all these new people in my life to be responsible for, and I’m— I want to do it right. But I’m worried I won’t have room for new things until I pack up some of my old shit, so that’s why I’m here, I guess. I don’t want to hold on to all of my old shit anymore.”

At Lana’s encouraging silence, she continues, “I spent my whole life stuck in a suffocating town, and as soon as I left, I got stuck in a relationship. By the time I knew what freedom felt like, I— I’d been left behind. Everyone I knew was moving onto bigger things and all I had was this shitbag of a past. So I got a new place and started law school and called it a fresh start, but now I’m here and I’m not sure if I ever got better.”

She takes a sharp breath after everything that’s spilled.

Lana purses her lips, letting the room absorb Nesta’s words. After a long moment, she says, “Just because bad things stop happening to someone, doesn’t mean they instantly get better. It’s a good thing that you’re recognizing that before stepping into new relationships, Nesta.”

Lana glances at the clock on the wall. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today, but this was a productive first session.” She offers a small smile. “Same time next week?” She says it as if it isn’t already a done deal.

Nesta nods gratefully anyway, unable to say anything else. As soon as she’s out the door, a pent-up sigh escapes her. That wasn’t so bad.

***

Later that night, Nesta doesn’t miss Cassian’s wistful stare as he takes down the painting he got her from the fall festival. Nor does she miss how slowly he packs it away.

Once the bedroom she made her home is as sparse as the day she moved in, all her things packed away neatly in boxes, Nesta wraps her arms around Cassian and pulls him to the bed. There, she lets him hold her close, their breaths and limbs intertwining as they lie in thoughtful silence.

“I can’t believe I’ll never see this room again,” Nesta says quietly.

Cassian’s eyes widen in alarm. “What do you mean, never again?”

“I’ll be staying in your room whenever I visit, remember?” Her underwear already occupies a drawer in his closet.

Cassian visibly relaxes when he remembers, then smiles. “Right. Of course.”

She lets herself sink deeper into his embrace. “I just realized you’ve never seen my apartment before.” He was waiting at the front door of Lorene’s place while Nesta collected her things all those weeks ago, but she cringes at the thought of him visiting now. The clear wealth gap between her and Cassian doesn’t usually show, but it’ll be undeniable with the cramped room she calls an apartment. “Maybe it’s best if I move back in without your help. There might not even be space there for your huge body.”

“Sounds more appealing by the minute.” He’s not joking. He tilts up Nesta’s chin so she’s forced to meet his eyes. “I can’t wait to start partaking in your life the way you took over mine. Spending nights at your place, meeting your friends, riding in your car instead of mine.”

Nesta swallows.

“I’m gonna miss you like hell, but it’ll be for the best.”

He’s right: this is what’s best for their budding relationship right now. Moving out, creating even a little bit of distance— all of it is so they can finally learn each other as lovers instead of roommates. So when they do come back together, which Nesta firmly believes they will, it’ll be stronger than ever before.

Some of their shared sadness flits away at the truth of it. She only places her hand on his cheek, content to appreciate this view— this beautiful, hazel-shaded view— without further chitchat or goodbyes.

Cassian is not as fond of the silence. “I need to tell you something,” he says seriously after a few minutes.

After only a handful of days dating Cassian, Nesta knows what he’s going to say. “Don’t,” she warns, unamused.

He grins conspiratorially and leans in even closer, until their mouths are almost brushing. “You’re my everything, Nesta.”

“Oh my god, stop it.” She squirms out of his hold and gets up, tossing the blankets off herself.

“No, come back!” He makes a grab for her sleeve. “We have to use the bed one last time—”

But she’s already running off.

***

Cassian carefully arranges the canvas painting on the wall, taking a step back to determine if it’s hanging straight. The ruby and amber leaves of the landscape stand out against the dull teal walls of Nesta’s basement apartment, but he’s just getting started.

The rest of Nesta’s things are half-unpacked from their cardboard boxes, but instead of going for the important shit first, he finds the box he specifically marked FAVES in bold letters the night before.

While Nesta wrangles to get her clothes back into her old closet in the background, Cassian crouches and rips open the small box. There, lying atop his girlfriend’s favorite trinkets and personal items, is the framed photo he snuck in without her noticing.

It’s of the two of them at the fall festival, taken mere hours before their first kiss. Nesta is pressed up close to Cassian (her excuse being that it was cold), and a genuine light fills her eyes, one that Cassian never thought he’d be able to capture on camera. Cassian himself isn’t looking at the camera, but down at Nesta with wind-flushed cheeks and a distant smile. Making sure she’s having a good time, that she truly wants to be there with him in that moment.

He never realized how close they looked in that picture until he had it printed and framed, not long after Nesta announced she was moving out. He can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner.

Standing up, he places the photo on Nesta’s wooden dresser. Nesta still has her head in the closet, moving things around, but Cassian makes no announcement of his gift to her. She’ll notice it sooner or later.

He clears his throat. “Wanna take a break and order Chinese?”

Nesta pops her head out of the closet, her ponytail ruffled and eyes narrowed at him. “Have you even been helping this whole time?”

“Standing here and looking pretty is harder than it seems, but I don’t expect any credit from you,” he jokes. “Just let me buy you lunch.”

Nesta grumbles something he chooses not to hear, but straightens up and rubs her spine with a wince. “I need a fucking chiropractor,” she mutters.

Guilt shoots through Cassian at that small wince, and he resolves to finish organizing Nesta’s closet for her before the day is over. Nesta goes on, “So? Still determined to split your time between here and the cabin?” She gestures to the apartment with an arm.

It’s really just a glorified single room, with a rusty kitchenette in the corner, a hallway near the stairs that holds the bathroom, and Nesta’s bed pushed against one wall. It’s nothing special, but Cassian loves it. Mostly because he can already envision each new nook and cranny to take Nesta against, and how he wants to wake up in that too-small bed on days that he’s too lazy to drive home.

“It’s perfect,” he says simply. Thank you for sharing your home with me, is what he really means. Speaking of homes—

Cassian digs around in his pocket, finding and pulling out a newly-minted silver key. “I almost forgot to give you this.”

Nesta frowns, coming forward to take the key from him. He uses the closeness as an excuse to wrap his arms around her waist while she inspects the object.

She glances up at him, eyes softer than they were a moment ago, lips slightly parted. “You’re giving me a key to the cabin?”

He shrugs casually. “You should’ve gotten one a long time ago.” She used either Cassian’s key or the spare while she lived there.

Her mouth is still open, and she closes it once, twice, before finally saying, “I don’t have a key to my place for you.”

“But I can get one,” she adds quickly. “If you want it, that is.”

Of course he wants it, but he keeps his face carefully neutral. “Only if you want me to have one. We’re still new, and this is your personal space.” He emphasizes your.

Nesta purses her lips, then says, “I’ll think about it.”

Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief— relief that Nesta is being honest with him instead of doing something she isn’t yet ready for. He’ll take her honesty over an apartment key any day.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he smiles brightly and shoves her toward the bed. “If we’re getting dumplings again then you can’t steal mine.”

***

a/n: fair warning that ive never been to therapy, but in stories therapists are usually a mode for character exploration and development, which is what nesta's therapy will be for.

also im so glad i got to meet gwyn in acosf and im so excited to introduce her into this fic too!! if you have ideas for her origin story feel free to share because nothing is planned yet

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @swankii-art-teacher

#a favor #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fic #ncssianwrites

[spookysanta]

The TA - two. (h.c., c.e.)

Summary: everything about this situation is...weird.

Pairings: Professor!Chris Evans x Black!Reader, student!Henry Cavill x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: none

here’s part two! she’s a bit lengthy, fyi. enjoy! :)

UNEDITED

After a couple of days, she’d gotten used to the formality that is Professor Chris Evans (and company). She’d gotten used to the emails that open with, “I hope this message finds you well”, even though it rarely did.

So thanks, Chris, for the well-wishes but no thank you.

The first day of Fall classes was stressful, to say the least. She woke up later than she intended for her 8 a.m. class, then she got lost on her trip from one lecture hall to another, and by the time she had to get to Franklin for Chris’ class, she was practically running across campus. She burst into the lecture hall two minutes before class was set to begin. Walking to the main podium where Chris stood preparing for that day’s lecture, she breathed out, “Sorry I’m late.”

He turned to her with a smirk. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just a bit of a rough day is all.” She waved him off, completely ignoring the loud slam of the lecture hall’s doors. A figure emerged next to her holding a tray of coffees from The Bistro.

“Good morning!” Henry greeted, clearly having a better day than she was. He offered Chris a cup, then set the tray down on the desk that sat adjacent to the presenter’s podium, taking the other two and offering one to her. She thanked him quietly. “You ready?” he asked Chris.

Chris laughed. And for the first time, she laughed along with him. And seeing it firsthand, she could tell they had a good relationship by the way they interacted. She could tell that Chris genuinely enjoys Henry’s company as his TA, and not just for the things that he does to be helpful—they have a good thing. “Yeah, I’m ready—I’m excited. Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“No problem. It was on my way here.”

She felt out of place as they engaged in banter.

She looked around the steadily filling classroom and saw students from all walks of life; she’ll admit, that’s one of the only perks of college in her mind—there was always someone for everyone. There are all kinds of people from different races, religions, creeds—all gathering to pursue higher education. In that respect, she found college to be interesting. But in any other regard, she hated it.

Henry took note of her silence, “Are you excited, (Y/N)?”

She turned to him sharply, not having anticipated him addressing her so suddenly. She nodded curtly, “Yep.”

“You don’t sound like it.” Chris retorted as he set up his laptop to broadcast a slideshow on the projector screens that took up nearly all of the space on the wall behind them. “C’mon, this is going to be fun!”

She offered them a dry chuckle as she watched the screens illuminate with a bright white background and black lettering that read:

WELCOME TO CHEMISTRY 120, SECTION D346-0

PROFESSOR CHRIS EVANS, D. SC.

HENRY CAVILL AND (Y/N) (Y/L/N), GRADUATE AND UNDERGRADUATE TAs

Yeah, that’s totally not intimidating. “Ooh,” Henry nudged her with his elbow, “look at that—you’re official.” He turned to her, pointing an index finger at the screens. “Listen, this is going to be no big deal.”

“You sound like him.” She pointed to Chris, who was hooking up a small microphone that he would connect to his shirt.

“Well I mean it. You’ll be fine. The most we’re going to have to do is pass out papers and introduce ourselves—easy peasy.”

She hummed in understanding. “Mhm.” She took a big gulp from her coffee cup, its liquid now only warm from Henry’s commute. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Henry shrugged, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good morning, class.” Chris spoke into the microphone, his voice projecting through the speakers in the room. The chatter among students died down quickly. “I’m Professor Evans and welcome to Chemistry 120, section D346-0.” She noticed that he was like her—he fidgeted, too. His hands were behind his back, but she could see him fiddling with the remote that was in them. One hand was wrapped around his opposite wrist, and his free hand twirled the remote between his fingers.

“I’d like for my TAs to introduce themselves. They’ll be helping you a lot this semester.”

He took a handheld microphone from behind the podium and turned it on, handing it to Henry. “I’m Henry, I’m a graduate TA studying microbiology.” He stated with a muted wave. “I’ve been working with Professor Evans for about four semesters now, so I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.” He handed the microphone to her, his thumb brushing hers when she took it. Their eyes met briefly.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). I’m an undergraduate student studying bio. This is my first semester as a TA for this class so I’m very excited to work with all of you.” There. That was easy enough. Henry looked to her with a small smile.

“Alright,” Chris spoke up after she handed him the microphone to be put away, “so I’ll be quick with the introductory stuff—I know no-one wants to hear me drone on about safety procedures for the next ninety minutes.” He gestured to a stack of papers that sat on the desk. “Could you pass those out?” he asked Henry and (Y/N) politely.

Henry nodded, effortlessly picking up the large stack of papers. He approached her and instructed in a whisper, “Take half.” She grabbed a substantial stack of papers, making her way across half of the lecture hall and handing students a sheet of paper going by rows, mimicking the movements that Henry made. They both made it to the middle; there they stood on a walkway that connected to the path that led to the front of the room. He followed behind her back to the podium as they awaited their next tasks.

“So, what you just got are information forms. We’re going to read them, go over the most important stuff, then at the end, you’ll sign them, and they’ll be collected.” Chris cleared his throat, beginning to read from the page, only really emphasizing the important aspects of the course.

She took a page off the stack, reading as he spoke. 

COURSE POLICIES:

No food/drink/snacks in the lecture hall or lab (water in a clear container is allowed)

No electronics of any kind are allowed in the lab

Late work will not be accepted in any capacity

All paper assignments must be turned in at the end of each class to TAs

Online work must be submitted before deadline—pages will close after the assigned time

Attendance (especially on lab days) is mandatory

All absences are considered unexcused unless otherwise authorized with a note or confirmation e-mail

Now it’s all come full circle for her. She can clearly see why a lot of his previous students called him a hard ass. And majority of the policies he listed, she doesn’t even plan to uphold herself. So how could she expect three-hundred students—freshmen, at that—to comply?

The policies were reasonable, sure, but hard to enforce.

He made sure to emphasize the dress code, late work, and attendance policies; it was apparent that those were real issues among his classes over the years. “Additionally,” he continued after having spoken without stopping for twenty minutes, “this is the only introductory chemistry class I’m teaching this semester, which means everything you submit will be read and graded. There are no grades for completion or participation.”

She heard several students groan. She leaned to Henry, “Wait. He teaches other classes?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered back, “He also teaches upper-level biology and organic chemistry, and he taught a statistics class last year but I’m not sure if he still does.”

Damn. No wonder he was so organized.

And she found that interesting; that definitely explained why he would have her and Henry do a lot of the grading for this class’ assignments. He probably didn’t have time to breathe in between classes, let alone grade three-hundred lab reports.

By the end of his class that seemed never-ending, she was absolutely exhausted. She was having daydreams of her cozy bed when Henry approached her after he finished collecting signed forms from his side of the classroom. “You alright?” Henry asked.

She stifled a yawn, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good class today, guys. I’m really excited for this semester.” Chris gushed, visibly happy with their help.

“Me, too.” Replied Henry. “I think this batch will be better than last semester’s.”

“Ugh. Don’t even get me started on last semester’s class.” He shook his head as he began to gather papers and his laptop into his bag. “I’ve never wanted to rip my hair out more than I did last semester.”

Henry laughed. “Trust me, I know.”

The two assistants prepared themselves to leave. Before they said their “goodbyes”, Chris asked them to meet with him in his office (as there was another class filing in).

“So,” Chris closed the door to his office, muffling the bustle of the room outside that was quickly filling up with the literature class that started right after theirs. “I wanted to know what you’ll be doing this weekend.”

“Um…” (Y/N) was confused. “Why?”

“Because I want to get a head start on grading these papers and entering everyone’s information into the database.” He pulled the stack of forms from his bag and clamped them together with a binder clip. “So, if you and Henry are free this weekend, that’d really help me out.”

“I’m not busy,” Henry shrugged. “I keep my weekends open anyway.”

She wasn’t busy either, but the weekend to work? This couldn’t wait until later?

“I’ll be free this weekend.” She kept her voice cheery but really regretted not lying when she had the chance.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together. “We’ll plan for a time for you to come over and we’ll knock it out in an hour or two.” Come over?

“Come over where?” she asked.

“Oh! My house.” Chris clarified, “When Henry and I had a lot of papers to grade, he usually comes over to my place early in the morning, we grade papers, and we go about our day. That’s not an issue for you, is it?”

“No, not at all.” It was a bit odd, though. But she’ll be honest in saying that she found all of this…odd in one way or another.

“Cool.” Henry looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get going, I don’t want to miss tonight’s game.”

Chris’ eyes widened in realization. “Dammit.” He swore, “I forgot there was a game on tonight.” He stood and grabbed his things, going around his desk to the door, and ushering us out of his office. He shut and locked the door behind them. They walked swiftly and quietly across the front of the classroom and out the door to converse in the hallway. “Alright, you guys. Have a great rest of your day, and don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.” He waved, then turned and left through the faculty doors.

Henry looked at her. “You ready?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” Together, they walked leisurely down the stairs and out of the lecture hall, through the hustle of the “afternoon class rush”.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked for what seemed like the thousandth time today. “You’re quiet.”

“Do you think…” she paused, wanting to pick the right words to say. “do you think it’s—I don’t know—odd that Chris wants us to meet at his house to grade papers?”

“What would make you think that?”

“I don’t know, it just seems weird to me.” Someone who was on their phone bumped into her causing her to drop the books she was carrying. “Shit.” She went to grab her book, but Henry picked it up for her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He opened the doors to the lecture hall, where they looked outside and saw that it was pouring. “Wow, it’s really comin’ down out there.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.” She groaned out loud. “Fuck my life.”

Henry laughed at her misery, “You need a ride?”

“Your car’s fixed?”

“Yeah.” He fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. “I took it to the shop after our meeting. Obviously I had to call a tow truck before I could get it to the mechanic’s, but I got it there eventually. It’s doing great now in case you were wondering—it almost runs perfectly.”

“I wasn’t.” she gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Thanks for the information, though.”

“Whatever.” He scoffed playfully. “You want a ride or not?”

She really shouldn’t. This guy, as holy as he is in the eye of the Almighty Chris, could be a monster. He could be a serial killer. He could be plotting to attack her—she’d lost count of how many news stories she’s read about kidnappings on college campuses—and who knows, she could be on his list.

But then again, it was pouring outside, and the walk back to her apartment was long. The air was getting cooler and combined with the darkness of the sky and the time of day, she’d end up with the flu by the end of the afternoon.

“Fine.”

He took his jacket from his shoulders and handed it to her. “Here.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Put it on.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You need it more than me, okay? So put the jacket on.” He commanded.

She didn’t like that he didn’t ask nicely, but she did it anyway. And she wouldn’t tell him out loud, but goodness, his jacket smelled good. Like every kind of good smell that someone would want on a man combined with the smell of men’s shampoo in the hood, she was in heaven. She tried not to let it show but she made sure to take deep inhales through her nose as they journeyed to his car.

They exited the lecture hall, running down the slippery cobblestone sidewalk like the rest of the students in their avoidance of getting wet from the impending storm. He guided her to his car, opening the door for her, then climbed in the driver’s seat. “Whew,” he breathed, buckling his seatbelt. “that was interesting.”

His car was quite nice. She’d expected it to be really junky and out of shape—because of the godforsaken breakdown—but it was surprisingly clean and smelled good, too. Not in a cologne way, but in a “detailed car” way.

“Yeah, it was.” She replied, also trying to catch her breath from running, “You have a nice car.”

“Thank you. I was trying to tell you that earlier, but you didn’t want to believe me.”

“No, I didn’t.” she laughed. “You proved me wrong.”

He revved the engine. “So, where to?”

“Brookwood Heights.”

“Shut up.” He all but exclaimed, his eyes widening to the size of Mars. “I live there!”

Oh, that’s great.

“Really? That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, that’s so funny!” he pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto the busy street. “What a small world.”

They managed to get to their apartment complex without issue. He helped her get all her belongings out of the car, then grabbed his and locked his car before they went inside, the cool air of the complex’s lobby almost smacking them in the face. They trudged to the elevator, entering the small box and leaning against the guardrails in exhaustion. She pressed the 3 on the keypad. “What floor?”

Not looking up from his phone, he mumbled, “3.”

Are you kidding me?

“That’s my floor.”

His head snapped up. “So, we’re floormates, huh?” he smirked.

“I guess so.”

The elevator dinged and they stepped out. It seemed like they were deliberately walking slowly down the hall so that they could see where the other person would drop off, but they just kept walking side-by-side until they got to the very end of the hall. She stopped in front of her door. “Well, this is me.”

He stood at the door across the hall from hers and pointed at the number, “This is me.”

So, they’re neighbors.

They’re co-workers…and now they’re neighbors.

Because of course, life can’t get any more cliché than it already is.

“See you around?” he called to her once he unlocked his front door.

“Yeah, see you around.” She waved with a small smile, opening her front door and stepping into her abode.

Damn, she missed her apartment today. She tossed her keys in the bowl by the door and took off her wet shoes. Then she set her bag on the adjacent counter. She shuffled off her jacket—

Wait.

This wasn’t her jacket. She didn’t wear a jacket today. It was Henry’s jacket.

She wanted to yell. She didn’t feel like being social anymore today. She decided to set the jacket on the coat rack by the front door; that way she’ll be able to bring it to him in the morning. She went to her bedroom and stripped from her wet clothes, going into the restroom and starting a shower.

Finally.

*

The following days were surprisingly good. She didn’t gripe and moan about the weather—it was rainy every morning that week—Henry rapped on her front door at the same time and offered to drive her to Franklin Hall. Some days, she accepted, and they even stopped at The Bistro if they had the time. Some days she didn’t, and those were the days where Henry seemed more on edge, only to visibly settle when he saw her enter the classroom or laboratory.

Today was Saturday; today was the day that she had to meet at Chris’ house to grade the lab reports from Tuesday and Thursday’s classes.

She wasn’t particularly excited about it.

She had to get up early because Chris wanted to get started at nine a.m., which was ungodly early for a Saturday—or any day, really.

Three knocks sounded sharply on her front door, “You ready?” Henry’s voice bellowed through the wood.

She rushed, opening the front door. “Almost.” She shuffled on a hoodie over her t-shirt, stepping aside. “Come in.”

He entered wordlessly and sat on the first chair he saw, which just so happened to have his jacket laying across the back. “So, I’m assuming this is yours now?”

She looked at the item he was holding. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “I meant to give that back. I’m sorry.”

He chuckled at her demeanor, “It’s fine. It’s bad out today, so I don’t mind if you need it.”

“I should be fine, thank you,” she forced her feet into a pair of sneakers, fighting to get her index finger from between the shoe’s fabric and the heel of her foot. “plus, I don’t want to hog your stuff.”

“You’re not hogging anything. If you need it, wear it.”

“But it’s yours.” She threw on her backpack, grabbing her keys, phone and wallet from the bowl by the front door. “Take it.”

“No.” he laid it back in its original position on the chair. “Give it back once the storm passes, okay? I’m just looking out for you.”

She rolled her eyes, but it made her smile anyway, “Fine. Thank you.” She opened the front door and practically shoving him out of her apartment and down the hall.

“You’re welcome.”

She’s not sure what’s happening. She’s started to like Henry’s company. Her goal when everything started was to remain polite and formal, and now…she thinks of him as a friend—which was not her plan.

They rode in a comfortable silence to Chris’ house. He could tell she was stressed. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.” Her shoulders shrugged, the fabric of her hoodie rubbing against her seatbelt. “I still think going to Chris’ house to grade papers is weird.”

“Nah,” he retorted, “it’s really casual. He makes a pot of coffee, and he even made me breakfast once. It doesn’t usually take long either—in and out.”

“So, I have nothing to be worried about?” she asked, their eyes meeting when he stopped at a red light. “This isn’t a setup for the two of you murder me, right?”

“If I wanted to murder you, I’ve had ample opportunities before today to do so.”

As if that’s reassuring.

“Thanks for sparing my life, I guess.” She muttered.

“Seriously, though. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. And if you get uncomfortable, I’ll say my apartment flooded and we’ll leave. Okay?”

She snorted, “Flooded?”

“Flooded. On fire. Intruder. My cat died. I’ll make something up.” He turned into a neighborhood of houses, pulling into a driveway behind a blue SUV, and shifting the car’s gear into “park”. “Say the word and we’ll leave, no questions asked.”

She nodded. She felt the slightest bit better about the situation. She didn’t really know if it was because he was so willing to drive her home, or if it was because he was so willing to drive her home just to keep her comfortable. Nonetheless, she appreciated it. “Okay.”

He reached behind him and pulled his shoulder bag from behind her seat. “And then, when we’re done, we can go to The Bistro and load up on cookies.”

“Their cookies are good…”

“Easily the best cookies I’ve had in a while. So, don’t do this because we’re required to, do this for the incentive of sugar.” He looked at her. “Lots and lots of sugar.”

They got out of his car with their bags and trudged up the driveway’s pavement, him following behind her to the front door. He emerged next to her and rang the doorbell.

Chris opened the door with a smile, “Hey.”

Not to mention, he wasn’t dressed like a professor at all. He was wearing grey sweatpants along with a cobalt blue zip-up jacket that was opened, showing off the white tank top he had on underneath.

And let’s not forget about the cross necklace—a minor addition, but still very important to the outfit.

“Good morning!” Henry cheered.

“Morning.” She greeted timidly.

Henry allowed her to step into the threshold of Chris’ home first. He entered, too, commenting, “Ooh. It smells good in here.”

“You caught me while I was making myself some pancakes—are you guys hungry?”

“I could eat.” Replied Henry as he plopped himself onto the couch in the front room, setting his bag on the coffee table before he sat down.

Chris looked to her, “Pancakes?” he asked simply with a point.

“Sure.” She shuffled off her backpack and sat next to Henry on the opposite end of the couch. “Let’s get this over with.” She muttered to herself. She unpacked her bag and set her laptop on the coffee table.

Not a few moments later, the two of them heard Chris shout from the kitchen, “Pancakes!”

Henry hopped up from his seat. He held out his hand in front of her, “C’mon.”

She took it and allowed him to pull her up…his hands were soft. Calloused at the knuckles, but soft, nonetheless. She almost hesitated to let go. But she did, regrettably. She followed him into the kitchen and took a plate from the stack on the counter next to the stove. Henry wasted no time in stacking his plate high with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, drowning everything in sticky maple syrup.

She, however, was a bundle of nerves, so she didn’t grab much—only two pancakes and two strips of bacon for herself. Henry balanced his plate, a handful of silverware, and a cup of coffee in his muscular arms and walked carefully back to the living room.

“You sure that’s all you want?” Chris asked, pointing to her plate as he poured the hot coffee from the carafe and into a large mug. “There’s plenty to go around.”

She shook her head politely, “I think I’m good for now.” She took a mug from the counter and held it out to him. “Could you pour me some, please?”

“Of course.” He poured the coffee into her mug a bit more than halfway. He offered her milk from the refrigerator, and she took it, pouring into her mug leisurely. He watched her and said almost in a mumble, “So…how are you liking things?”

“What things?” she replied.

“The position. The class itself—hell, your classes. How are you getting on?”

“Good, I suppose.” She shrugged. “I like the job a lot, and working with you guys. My classes are hard this semester—I don’t know what it is, but for some reason, Calculus seems so much more difficult than I remember.”

“Who do you have for that class?” he took a long sip from his mug, leaning his back comfortably against the countertop. “Mackie?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “He assigns so much work, I can barely keep up. And his class is in Jackson Hall—on the other side of campus—so I basically have to run to his class in order to get there on time if Henry doesn’t drive me.”

“Henry drives you to class?”

Out of all she said, that’s what he clung to?

“Yeah, most days. Apparently, we’re neighbors in the same complex, and he has a class in Jackson at the same time as mine. I don’t have a car and he does, so it just made sense.”

Chris hummed. “Well, I’m good friends with Mackie; he and I were actually roommates in undergrad. So if you need me to, I can put in a word.”

“A word?” she repeated.

“Yeah. Your studies are important, but so is your job. So if you need to be excused from his class every now and again, or you need help catching up, I can help you.”

“Oh.” She pondered for a moment. She needed this job, yes, but not so much that she feels the need to fall behind on her schoolwork to keep Chris company. “Well, I think I’m fine for now, but thank you for the offer.”

“Sure. Anything to help.” He patted a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her flesh, then left the kitchen.

She sat back on the couch next to Henry and timidly ate her breakfast while he and Chris engaged in conversation about the upcoming events in the area.

We do shoulder rubs now? She asked in her brain. He seemed almost…flirty? And when I mentioned Henry driving me to class, he visibly almost tensed. What was that about?

“Yeah, I think it’s a great idea for the two of you to go.”

That’s when she started to pay attention. “Go to what?”

“There are student tutoring sessions in Hampton Hall for all undergraduate classes. Generally, I don’t make my students attend because there aren’t any undergraduate TAs in my class. But now, you’re here, so my class is on the roster.” Then, he muttered, “And Henry can take you.”

She nodded, taking her planner out of her bag. “When are they?”

“Thursdays at three. I’ve been told that they usually run about an hour, so it won’t take up all your afternoon. Then, you and Henry can do…whatever.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing to her, then back to Chris.

That was strange.

She didn’t question it. She was eager to finish grading her set of papers so that she could shove Henry out the door, get their cookies—that he suggested, and thus, will pay for—and head home to sleep the rest of her day away.

It took them a total of two hours to finish grading that week’s lab reports and put them into Chris’ online gradebook, and put the students’ information into a spreadsheet. After they cleared their trash and put their plates and silverware into the kitchen sink, she all but threw her belongings into her backpack. Henry put his bag over his shoulder, bushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “Well,” Henry began, taking his car keys from his front pocket and twirling the keychain around his index finger. “we should get going.”

“Sure. I don’t want to keep the two of you busy.” Chris replied as he ushered his two assistants to the front door, his tone not displaying any care for taking up the early part of their afternoon. “Have a great weekend, guys. See you Monday.”

They left and walked quietly side-by-side to Henry’s car. He backed out of the driveway and sped out of the neighborhood and down the street. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked her.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” he repeated, “What makes you unsure?”

She almost hesitated to mention it. But there was no logical way Henry didn’t pick up on Chris’ comments throughout their time there. “Chris was just acting weird, is all.”

“Define weird.”

“He kept saying things about you and me carpooling, and he even offered to excuse me from my Calc class with Mackie.” She suddenly found her fingers much more interesting to look at than the road in front of them. “And he touched my shoulder. He squeezed my shoulder, actually.”

“You think he was acting out of the ordinary…because he touched your shoulder?”

“No! Well, yes, but he seemed upset when I told him that you and I carpool, and that’s what caught me off guard.”

Henry shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t think it’s professional.”

“If he didn’t think it was professional, he would’ve said so, instead of making snide comments.”

He parked the car in front of The Bistro, then turned it off and turned to her. “Maybe he doesn’t like us hanging out.”

Hanging out? Is that what he called it?

The two of them got out of the car and walked into the cold coffee shop, standing in line behind the last patron. “I don’t know,” she said lowly so as to not disturb the other customers with their conversation. “I just think that it doesn’t make sense for him to be so…intrusive.”

He looked at her. “Do you want me to say something?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “If it’s not what I think it is, he may get offended.”

“I don’t think he will.” It was soon their turn to order. “Six chocolate chip cookies, please.” He pulled out his wallet and paid for their snacks in cash, then moved to the other side of the counter to pick them up. He handed them to her, “Here.”

“Thank you.”

The two sat at a table—a similar table to the one they first sat at together, but this one was by the floor-to-ceiling windows. He opened the parchment bag the cookies were in and handed her one. “I will say,” he started with his mouth full, “he seemed off today.”

“See? I knew it—”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s being gross, alright? Everyone has an off-day every now and then.”

The two sat in silence after that. He watched students and professors alike walk past The Bistro, some of them entering the café to enjoy pastries and coffee like they were. He began to bounce his leg on the ball of his foot; something, she noticed, that he couldn’t help but do when he was deep in thought. Either that, or sitting cross-legged and wiggling his foot back and forth.

He cannot sit still. Neither can she usually—but it’s apparent that since she’s met him, he made her feel more comfortable…safe, even. She doesn’t pick at her fingers nearly as much.

“Does he make you uncomfortable?” he asked her after a few moments of them silently people-watching. “Are you uncomfortable around him?”

“Not really.” She replied, not knowing exactly how she felt about Chris. She was intrigued by him, yes; she found him attractive, certainly; but she still didn’t know him. And because of that, she seemed to be more on edge when speaking to him. Henry wasn’t anything like that.

“A part of me just has a feeling that he’s coming onto me.”

He coughed, almost choking on his lemonade. “Like, romantically?”

“Yeah. That’s what it seems like.”

He hummed in response. He got up and threw away his trash and hers, offering a hand to help her stand. They soon left The Bistro. He opened the car door for her, then pulled out of the parking lot.

The atmosphere shifted. She knew that there was some form of attraction towards him from her, but was it reciprocated? She didn’t know, but judging by the way his eyebrows were persistent in their angry furrowing, there was something wrong with what she said at the restaurant.

They eventually got back to their complex. He didn’t say a word to her on their trek from the lot to their hallway. “G’night.” He said simply, unlocking his front door and shutting it behind him.

***

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