#And the syllabus is NOT student-friendly (or maybe it's just not me-friendly)

[watchingblsnowandforever]

me, going to sleep early (3.30-ish) before an exam: okay... that's good right? I'll get a good rest before my exam and i can-

my brain: what have you not studied. you cannot be going to sleep this early if you finished everything. have you even studied?! of course not! why i even bother with you i don't know. you never study before and just before exams you-

me:...

me: you do you, benturi, imma go to sleep.

brain:...

brain: wait.

brain: WhAt DiD yOu CaLL mE?!!

me, fast asleep, dreaming: zzzzz

[prentissluvr]

campus library, 7:00 a.m. — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, stanford!era, unedited, 658 words. requested ! for my 800 followers event [ closed ] .

summary : a nervous first year (sam) asks the cute libary worker (you) for help printing and accidentally develops a crush on the first day of classes.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

it’s a good thing for the library patrons that you’re in a particularly pleasant mood, which is a rare occurrence at seven a.m., especially on the first day of a new semester. the poor first years are stressed. you’re leisurely as you walk behind the circulation desk, setting your bag down by the chair and settling there with your laptop. it only takes about a second for someone to approach, holding his own laptop in nervous hands.

he does a pretty good jop of hiding that he’s nervous, but it’s clear to you that he feels out of place and maybe even a little lost.

“hi,” you greet him with a smile, inviting him closer and encouraging him to ask for whatever help he needs when he hesitates.

“hi.” he gives a tight lipped smile back, relaxing just a touch. “could you maybe help me with printing something, or…?” he’s clearly unsure if you’re the right person to ask. that’s a classic question, and one that further confirms your suspicions that he’s a first year. (though once you helped a junior print for the first time as a first year yourself last spring semester).

“absolutely!” you confirm, keeping the friendly smile on your face to hopefully put him at ease. “have you been able to connect your computer to the printers at all yet?” you’re pretty sure you know the answer, but ask anyway.

the student, who’s taller than he looks, all folded in on himself, shakes his head sheepishly. “i’m stuck there,” he explains.

“that’s alright. here,” you nod your head towards the nearest printer, standing up and leading him over. he follows, laptop cradled in his big hands. “do you mind?” you ask, hands hovering over the touchpad when he sets it down on the table.

“no, no, of course not. go ahead.” he gives you quick permission to touch his computer, and you spend the next minute explaining and showing him how to connect to the printer. in the system settings, you catch his name. maybe you’re a little curious about him. sam winchester.

he makes the attempt to print out the syllabus for a political science class. and, as often happens, it doesn’t work.

“the printers here sort of suck,” you explain quickly, so that he doesn’t feel bad or more nervous. “sometimes it’s because you’re using a personal computer. unfortunately, i don’t know how to fix that issue, but the tech services desk opens at eight and should be able to help you! if you need to print now, you can head to the computer lab, sign in with your stanford email and password, then select the same printer that i showed you.”

“okay,” he sighs out. “thank you so much,” he says sincerely, looking relieved that there’s a second solution. 

“of course,” you smile, then walk off back to your seat as he heads for the computer lab. about a minute later, he returns, looking slightly embarrassed. it turns out that he still can’t quite get it to work. he’s very apologetic for bothering you, but you assure him quickly and easily that it’s no problem at all. he’s so kind and frankly, cute, so you have no qualms with helping him.

the syllabus prints, and he thanks you several times. each time, you assure him that it’s no problem, that you’re happy to help. something about him makes you want to ease his nerves. you hope that your adamant kindness makes a good impression for his first day.

it must have at least a little, because you see him in the library often. then, you see his name in the list of new hires for the library this semester. the next time you meet him is the day that your boss asks you to show him how to shelve books and take inventory. you work together once a week. he’s easily your favorite coworker, and you’re pretty sure that you’re his.

[samsblades]

campus library, 7:00 a.m. — sam winchester

cw :gn!reader, fluff, stanford!era, unedited, 658 words. requested ! for my 800 followers event [ closed ] .

summary : a nervous first year (sam) asks the cute libary worker (you) for help printing and accidentally develops a crush on the first day of classes.

it’s a good thing for the library patrons that you’re in a particularly pleasant mood, which is a rare occurrence at seven a.m., especially on the first day of a new semester. the poor first years are stressed. you’re leisurely as you walk behind the circulation desk, setting your bag down by the chair and settling there with your laptop. it only takes about a second for someone to approach, holding his own laptop in nervous hands.

he does a pretty good jop of hiding that he’s nervous, but it’s clear to you that he feels out of place and maybe even a little lost.

“hi,” you greet him with a smile, inviting him closer and encouraging him to ask for whatever help he needs when he hesitates.

“hi.” he gives a tight lipped smile back, relaxing just a touch. “could you maybe help me with printing something, or…?” he’s clearly unsure if you’re the right person to ask. that’s a classic question, and one that further confirms your suspicions that he’s a first year. (though once you helped a junior print for the first time as a first year yourself last spring semester).

“absolutely!” you confirm, keeping the friendly smile on your face to hopefully put him at ease. “have you been able to connect your computer to the printers at all yet?” you’re pretty sure you know the answer, but ask anyway.

the student, who’s taller than he looks, all folded in on himself, shakes his head sheepishly. “i’m stuck there,” he explains.

“that’s alright. here,” you nod your head towards the nearest printer, standing up and leading him over. he follows, laptop cradled in his big hands. “do you mind?” you ask, hands hovering over the touchpad when he sets it down on the table.

“no, no, of course not. go ahead.” he gives you quick permission to touch his computer, and you spend the next minute explaining and showing him how to connect to the printer. in the system settings, you catch his name. maybe you’re a little curious about him. sam winchester.

he makes the attempt to print out the syllabus for a political science class. and, as often happens, it doesn’t work.

“the printers here sort of suck,” you explain quickly, so that he doesn’t feel bad or more nervous. “sometimes it’s because you’re using a personal computer. unfortunately, i don’t know how to fix that issue, but the tech services desk opens at eight and should be able to help you! if you need to print now, you can head to the computer lab, sign in with your stanford email and password, then select the same printer that i showed you.”

“okay,” he sighs out. “thank you so much,” he says sincerely, looking relieved that there’s a second solution. 

“of course,” you smile, then walk off back to your seat as he heads for the computer lab. about a minute later, he returns, looking slightly embarrassed. it turns out that he still can’t quite get it to work. he’s very apologetic for bothering you, but you assure him quickly and easily that it’s no problem at all. he’s so kind and frankly, cute, so you have no qualms with helping him.

the syllabus prints, and he thanks you several times. each time, you assure him that it’s no problem, that you’re happy to help. something about him makes you want to ease his nerves. you hope that your adamant kindness makes a good impression for his first day.

it must have at least a little, because you see him in the library often. then, you see his name in the list of new hires for the library this semester. the next time you meet him is the day that your boss asks you to show him how to shelve books and take inventory. you work together once a week. he’s easily your favorite coworker, and you’re pretty sure that you’re his.

[6okuto-moved]

UNIVERSITY WITH BOKUTO

gn!reader | late bokuto birthday post. kyaaa.. sorry for using sociology btw. i’m coping

university student!bokuto who you meet the first day of classes. it was hard not to notice him on the train, nor how you seemed to be taking the same path. you’re speed-walking down a pedway—just a few minutes from being late—when his eyes flicker over to you. “we were on the train together, right? i thought it was funny we started walking the same way. what class are you going to?” he asks with a smile.

and it’s a cute smile, but you wish it wasn’t because you’re starting to run out of breath and you don’t think the one you flash back is anywhere near as easy. “sociology with, uh, philip.”

your new-found acquaintance lights up. “really? me too!”

“yeah, i had him last year and he was really good,” you reply. and maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the way he seems so friendly despite how little you’ve spoken, but you decide to introduce yourself first.

the stranger grins again. “it’s nice to meet you,” he says your name hesitantly, as if testing it out for the first time. “i’m kotaro!”

university student!bokuto who has an impressive skill for keeping small talk going in a way that isn’t awkward or miserable. he sits across from you on the train every morning you have class—taking the side that keeps you from squinting at the sun, which, of course, garners a thank you—and talks about anything and everything. he tells you about his other courses, asks for yours, what you had for breakfast, whether you prefer pancakes or waffles, and even describes how he likes to drizzle on designs with his syrup. (one of his favourites was a wonky little owl, and kotaro swears he managed to draw mario once—or at least his long-lost twin.)

it’s easy talking with him, and even when you want to skip and sleep in, you find yourself getting ready, just in hopes of seeing him again.

university student!bokuto who has a pad of sticky notes in his backpack, filled with reminders and drawings and scribbles from testing if a pen has ink left. the professor is going over the syllabus when you turn to see his brows furrowed, pen doing something on the paper. you have to stop yourself from smiling too big when kotaro passes you a note—a little doodle of the you holding hands and cheering, “SOCIOLOGISTS! >:)” written in block letters above. you have a collection growing by the end of the first two weeks.

bokuto who offers to hang out with you while you wait for your next class, and even walks you there when you’re ready. forty minutes—it’s an awkward amount of time where you can’t really do anything, or sit outside the room to wait, so having someone with you is always nice. you’ve just sat down when you remind him again, “you could just go home, kotaro. you don’t have to wait for me.” and kotaro shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink before replying. “you can’t get rid of me that easy. i like spending time with you, anyway, so don’t worry about me.”

bokuto who stops mid-bite of his lunch when you use his nickname for the first time. “kou, did you get napkins?” you try to ask casually, ignoring how foreign the name feels on your tongue. kotaro stares, cheeks filled on one side with rice. “…kou?” “huh? oh, yeah! uhm.” he fumbles, but manages to hand them over. you thank him quietly and he smiles. he considers himself lucky that you’re looking down at your food, and can’t see how he’s holding back what could possibly be the biggest grin of his life.

bokuto who casually mentions his birthday is coming up, much sooner than you’d expect, and much sooner than you’d hope considering you wanted to get a gift. you lightly hit him on the shoulder. “why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“aw, you don’t need to get me a gift. but if you’re free, i was gonna have dinner with some friends,” he offers. “which probably sounds awkward because you don’t really know them, but i told them about you and they’re really nice, and i’d be there so i don’t think it’d be too bad? and it’s after your assignment is due for your other class, i think. or we could do something another day? if you wanted to.”

your ears heat up when he says he’s talked about you, the rest of your face following suit when you realize he's been paying attention to your schedule, but you bite the inside of your cheek and say nothing. “no, it’s okay, i’ll come to dinner, if that’d be okay with them.”

any nervousness that was building inside him evaporates, and kotaro is suddenly back to his usual grinning self. “awesome! it’s my birthday so they’ll be fine, promise!”

bokuto who, himself, is not fine when the day comes—who starts shaking akaashi’s shoulder when you text to say you’ll be there soon. he’s barely paying attention to how his other friends are snickering, or even to akaashi’s reassurance that yes, bokuto, your outfit looks nice, and yes, he’s sure you’d have mentioned any allergies to his cake and no, he doesn’t think he’ll need an epipen by the end of the night.

bokuto who had no idea you managed to text akaashi and the others privately to figure out what the best short-notice gift would be. they told you that kotaro would appreciate anything you bought or made, even if it was just a simple card. they’re all a little surprised when you show up with not just a card, but also a sweater, owl plushie, and collection of sticky notes.

“i mean, i just thought the sweater was pretty soft and the owl was cute. but the sticky notes are ‘cause you always draw on them during class. so i sort of…made you little drawings? of you, stuff you like…they aren’t the best since i had to make them fast, but...” you trail off as he flips through each one.

one of his friends—kuroo, you think—looks over kotaro’s shoulder and snickers. “huh? i don’t know what you’re talking about, i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him make that exact face before. are you considering going into the art industry?”

you smile as everyone else looks over your gift, but your eyes are fixed on the birthday boy himself. he’s smiling widely as he takes in each sticky note, making comments and laughing when he reads an inside joke you have from class.

bokuto who takes you to the side while everyone else is talking amongst themselves, surprising you with a hug. “oh!” you take a second to process the fact that there’s arms wrapped around you, but eventually wrap yourself around him in return.

he says your name, dragging out the last syllable as he squeezes you tighter, moving you side to side. “thank you for the present!”

you snort and pat his back. “i’m glad you liked it, some of those sticky notes took a few tries to not look like shit.” you joke.

when he finally lets go, kotaro has a look of determination on his face. “i’ll be sure to make a birthday present just as good as yours, or even better! i didn’t miss it, did i? is it close? i should have asked earlier,” he panics. “well, even if it’s tomorrow, i’ll make sure it’s super good. it isn’t tomorrow, is it? or are new year’s presents a thing?”

bokuto who’s already planning what to do for a gift after you’ve all left, wearing the sweater and holding the plush, with the drawings on his desk, waiting to be put up in the morning.

[jestersprivilegee]

Always

thomas j. x reader

Modern, soulmate au

Warnings: swearing, second hand embarrassment and rushed writing

Soulmates are tied by having the song of whatever they’re listening to written on your wrist. So what happens when you realize your soulmate is the man you deemed ignorant, annoying, and conceited?

Wc: 5.8k

Notes: Stan marsh mentioned??!

No. 1 Party Anthem — Arctic Monkeys

That’s what your soulmate was currently listening to. You’d know because the words were inked on your skin. They’d change in a few minutes, when the song came to an end.

But that’s how it worked with soulmates. Whatever music they were listening to would be written on your left wrist, then erase out into the next song. Sometimes you’d have the emptiness of bare skin, but your soulmate seemed to really be into music. His taste varied from all sorts of genres—country to rock to death metal, and the occasional Chappell Roan or Laufey thrown in there.

Any time you were bored, you’d compile his songs into a Spotify playlist titled “my love” where you’d listen to his songs and dream of him. It was over fifty hours long. Maybe he listened to so much music so that whenever he met you, he’d know. You tried to do the same, but you’re the type of person to listen to the same songs on repeat until you find new ones.

You sighed, gently running your right hand over your left wrist where the words were. It was your first day of college, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was when you’d meet him.

It was colder than you predicted, so you armored up with an oversized grandpa sweater and leggings. It covered up your soulmate’s song, but you figured you’d know when you met them. People reported feeling a pull to their destined lover.

After trudging through the crowded campus and struggling to find your lecture hall, you eventually entered introduction to philosophy.

Ten minutes late.

Thankfully, the professor didn’t seem to mind (or even notice you for that matter) and you humbly snagged a seat at the top row. The guy next to you gave you a nasty side eye, one-hundred percent judging you for being slightly late.

You gave him a dirty look back and tried to catch up with what Professor Marsh was saying. He seemed to be going on about the syllabus and what his teaching would entail. He yapped a little more, but you were still hung up on the fact you already managed to harbor stares from the curly haired man sitting mere inches from you.

Professor Marsh stopped to pass out a paper you weren’t entirely sure what for, and encouraged the class to talk with those around you. He emphasized becoming acquainted with your neighbors because they’re who you’ll be debating on different philosophical views, and a group discussion would be necessary for your grade in this class.

Begrudgingly, you glanced at the guy next to you. He was the only person sitting near you, save for the person in front of you already in conversation.

“Hello.” You said, forcing a sweet tone. His eyes held amusement as he studied you.

“So you’re just gonna act like you didn’t death stare me earlier?” When he spoke, an unexpected southern accent filled his words.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “As if you didn’t side eye me. C’mon, man, I’m just trying to make friendly conversation.”

“Are you always late to your classes?” He tilts his head, a stupid smirk playing on his lips.

“In my defense, this campus is huge and this is the first time I’ve been late to a class ever. I am a rule follower through and through.” You pledge your hand up.

“Ah, okay, so you’re the biggest nerd in here. Got it.”

“Wh—you can’t make impractical assumptions like that. You don’t know anything about me.” You huffed, a frown spreading on your face.

His eyebrows shot up as he gave you a pointed look. “You’re wearin’ a grandpa sweater. I don’t need to know anythin’ to figure you were probably a hall monitor.”

Lucky guess, you deduced. So what if you were that good of a student that admin appointed you a hall monitor? That’s nothing to be ashamed of. And he was wearing an ugly magenta sweater, anyway, so he has no room to talk. Despite that, your cheeks grew warm and you squirmed uncomfortably, glancing at Professor Marsh to see when he would finally reach your row.

“Grandpa sweaters are cute,” you say, “and you seem like the type to be that loser who was always in detention, anyway.”

He gave you a bored stare. “That the best you got? Seriously, grandpa, you gotta think quicker than that.”

“Don’t call me grandpa,” you snapped. He barked out an airy laugh.

“Then tell me your name.”

“Why should I?” You frowned deeper. “All you’ve done is belittle me the moment I stepped into class.”

“Because I want to know who I’m gonna be spendin’ the rest of this semester sitting by.” He deadpanned.

“Who said I’ll be sitting here tomorrow?”

“Trust me, sweetheart, you’ll be sitting here. I’m way too charming for anyone not to.” He grinned, causing an extreme eye roll on your behalf.

“How conceited of you,” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“If conceited is synonymous with incredibly hot and captivating, sure.” His smirk widened, and you swore in that moment, you could’ve hurt a man. You seriously considered it, but bit those thoughts down since it was the first day.

“Keyword: if.” Your jaw tightened.

He was enjoying this way too much. The boisterous laughter and arrogant smile said so.

“So your name?”

“Up yours, asshole.” You snarled. He didn’t respond. Instead, his triumphant smirk grew wider, his whole face lit up in a beaming glow. You followed where his eyes led, which was to a presence behind you.

“I’m glad you took my advice on becoming acquaintances with your peers,” Professor Marsh said. A small stack of papers was held in his hands. You winced, glaring at the annoying stranger next to you.

“I’m sorry, Professor, he—“

“Don’t apologize. I’m sure you had a perfectly good reason to refer to your classmate as a derogatory name,” he sassed, “next time, please refrain from calling others asshole.”

He handed the paper to you and another to the absolute dickwad sitting next to you. You watched Professor Marsh retreat to his desk, speechless from what the hell just happened.

“So I’m assuming I don’t get to know your name?”

His grating voice brought your attention back to him. You turned sharply, a murderous intent in your eyes.

“You.” A seething glare pierced through him. “You got me in trouble, you motherfu—“

“Ah, you can’t say no-no words,” he teased, holding up a hand. God, you wanted so badly to rip that cocky smirk from him. It genuinely made your blood boil, and your hatred almost pulled you to him. Probably because it wanted you to kick the shit out of him even though he was bigger and stronger than you.

“You are insufferable. And I hope I never have to see or converse with you ever again.”

“Well, someone’s cranky today.”

“Well, someone needs to shut the fuck up.” You bite back in a tone equally as sarcastic, if not more.

He was about to respond when Professor Marsh started speaking again. You gratefully averted your attention back to the subject of philosophy. He droned on for a little while longer about the history of philosophy and asked somebody what the point of taking this class would be.

Before anyone could raise their hand, asshole shot his hand up eagerly. You groaned, closing your eyes slightly.

“You, in the back,” Professor Marsh nodded. Asshole ahemed, straightening up to make his presence louder.

“She knows the answer,” he says, pointing directly at you. Fresh sets of eyes were laid upon you, and you grew hot under all of the attention. You slumped a little in your seat and glared at asshole, observing the satisfied smile he had and the utter joy in his eyes.

“Yes?” Professor Marsh waited patiently for you to respond to his question.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat, “to discuss multiple points of views on questions with no right answer…?” You spoke reluctantly.

The ravenette instructor nodded, “that’s right. Mostly. Philosophy has no right answer, it’s a string of never-ending thoughts pertaining—“

“You dick,” you whispered aggressively to Asshole. He snickered, keeping his voice low.

“I said you knew the answer, didn’t I?”

“At the risk of embarrassing me in front of everybody! Have you not had enough satisfaction from tormenting me already?!”

He gave you a lame shrug, which really did nothing for you. “Guess not.”

You couldn’t wait to get out of this class already.

—

You shoved both AirPods in your ears as you walked across campus, blasting High and Dry by Radiohead. It was a week into your freshman college experience.

So far, it’s been shit.

You’ve already made an enemy with the guy in your into to philosophy class (who you still didn’t know the name of), your favorite sweater got soiled from getting beer spilled on it, which was your fault for wearing a sweater to a frat party anyway, and you hadn’t encountered your soulmate like you hoped.

Safe to say you were completely crushed by the outcome of college. It wasn’t the time-of-your-life party you imagined. No, it was full of copy paste sorority girls and frat bros who talked grossly about women. The food in the dining hall sucked, and you were too broke to afford groceries.

The only positive experience was meeting your dorm mate: Eliza Schuyler.

She was an incredibly sweet girl, and a genius, too. She had an almost mother-like quality to her which drew you in to want to know everything. Thankfully, she seemed to like you as well, and you quickly became close. Mostly because you’re living in a cramped room with little to no privacy, but that’s besides the point.

Lucky for her, she came back on the second day, her heart pouring with excitement. She met her soulmate, a man by the name of Alexander Hamilton, in her English course. You congratulated her and ignored how you felt like the living version of Falling Behind by Laufey.

You glanced down at your wrist. Casual — Chappell Roan.

Ah, it was one of those days.

Sometimes your soulmate had episodes where he listened to nothing but sad, angsty songs about love. Mac DeMarco seemed to be a popular choice with him, and you wished you could hold him in your arms already.

The familiar family-owned coffeehouse came into view. You breathed in the scent of rich coffee and pastries, an instant hunger hitting you, and jumped into line and patiently waited your turn behind all the other caffeine deprived college kids. After placing your order and waiting at a small, two seat table, the sound of a dreaded voice broke your peace.

It took a minute to realize that voice was directed at you.

“—ndpa? Long time no see.”

Your breath hitched and you took out an airpod, coming face to face with Asshole himself.

“Oh great, it’s you,” you grunted, setting your phone on the table. The screen turns on to flash Dreams by Fleetwood Mac, and asshole glances down at it, an immediate unreadable expression crossing his face.

He tugs a little at his left sleeve, his usual cocky demeanor dropping ever so slightly. ��Happy to see you, too.” He mumbled.

You quirked an eyebrow but didn’t question it. “I guess I won’t be staying much longer now that you’re here.”

“W-well, you don’t have to leave ‘cause of me,” he stammers almost urgently. This made you pause. He wanted you to stay? “I only just got here. Wanna talk to you.”

“…Why? You hate me,” a scoff escaped your lips. Genuine confusion was plastered on your face. Why is he acting all suddenly nice—wait, you know why. He just wants to find more ways to berate and argue with you as if him countering every word you speak in philosophy isn’t enough.

“Now, I never said I hate you or anythin’.” He reasons, a nervous smile hinting on his full lips.

“Weird. I’d think after you calling me grandpa and blatantly suggesting I’m stupid every day would give off that vibe, but I guess I was wrong.” You deadpan. His shoulders drop, and a small scowl forms on his face.

“I’m bein’ serious. I don’t hate you, and I really do think we should get to know each other.”

You take a moment to stare at him, examining the sincerity on his features to the stubble he had growing to the dark curls that fell over his deep espresso eyes. “Why?” Was all you could manage to blurt.

“Because,” he huffs, “I just do. With us bein’ close in Stan’s class, I figured we should at least know each others names.”

“Okay, first of all, don’t call him Stan you freak, and second of all, you would know my name if you cared enough to pay attention. But you always have a headphone in, so how could you be?” You batted your eyelashes, venom in your tone.

“He doesn’t care if we call him Professor Marsh or Stan! It's not weird to call college professors by their first names. Besides, it’s way easier to say Stan than Professor Marsh. And I wear headphones so my soulmate—“

“Order for Y/n?”

The barista cut him off, her voice dominating the crowded shop before it hurriedly went back to its chattery state. You sighed, standing up and making your way over to the counter. Latte in hand, you start to move out the door, not bothering to say goodbye to Asshole.

But he didn’t seem ready to say goodbye yet. He followed after you, ignoring the fact his coffee was being made and he likely wouldn’t get it.

“Wait! Not even a hug bye?” He jokes. You didn’t laugh.

“Why are you still talking to me?” You groan, clutching the warm liquid in your left hand.

“Y/n, huh? I’m Thomas,” he says, ignoring your question completely. You rolled your eyes, picking up the pace. His long legs easily kept up with you, however, so it didn’t really do all that much.

“Awesome. Now can you leave me alone? You know my name, what else is there?”

“I’m sure there’s a lot else to you if you’d just let us have a nice, civil conversation.” He grunted, falling into step with you.

“And ruin our rivalry?” You give him a sickening smile. He fights back a mocking face.

“Our rivalry is dead. This is the beginning of a friendship,” he declares. You laugh in his face.

“Sure it is.”

“I’m serious! Why don’t we set up a little hang out sesh, hm? Go to the library, finish up that paper Stan assigned?” He suggested.

“Again, calling him Stan,” you sighed. “But I suppose a little time studying in the library wouldn’t hurt. I know I’ll regret this, but if it’ll make you leave me the fuck alone, I’ll agree.”

“Perfect! Just give me your number and I’ll text you when,” he smiles, and for a moment it looks good on him. Then you remember it’s Thomas you’re thinking that about.

“God—you better not annoy me or I’m blocking you.”

“I would never.”

—

Thomas had planned to meet you later that night around 7. The library closes at 10, so it gives you plenty of time to get the paper done. If you worked non-stop without much distraction, that is. But being with Thomas might dismantle that idea.

For the time being, you shuffled into your dorm, greeting Eliza with a smile. She was talking on the phone with Alexander. Must be nice, you thought.

To have met your soulmate already from chance.

You stayed quiet while she finished up the call, telling him she loves him. Fuck, dude, you’ve been waiting your entire life to hear those words. But they were always at someone else, never directed at you.

“Hey.” She grinned, setting her phone down.

“Hey yourself,” you replied. The latte you were previously drinking was nearing emptiness, so you finished it off and tossed the paper cup.

“No luck today?” She tilted her head, sitting on the edge of her crappy mattress. A small frown formed on your face.

“Nah. But that annoying guy in my philosophy was at Café Serenity and somehow got me to agree to study in the library with him.” You moved to sit on the edge of your bed, facing her. “I did finally figure out his name, though. It’s Thomas.”

“Thomas Jefferson?” She asked, eyes going a little wide.

“I don’t know his last name,” you shrugged, “if Thomas Jefferson is an arrogant shithead, then probably.”

“From what I heard he is. Alex keeps ranting about this guy named Thomas Jefferson, so if it’s the same person…yikes.”

You scoffed, “That’s not at all surprising. Thomas always argues with any point I make. It’s irritating as fuck.”

“And you’re going to study with him, why?”

“I don’t know! He wouldn’t hop off so I just agreed to make him shut up.” You slipped your hands up in defense.

It really was a stupid decision to say yes to him, even worse that you gave him your number. His confidence and stubbornness caused you to cave, although you really didn’t want to. You had no desire being around him.

You may not know much, but you do know that Thomas Jefferson is an exasperating, egotistical piece of shit.

“I have to go. Washington locks the door the moment it turns ten, so lord knows if I want to get to actually learn today I have to hurry.” You rolled your eyes, sighing heavily.

Professor Washington was your English professor, a damn good one at that, but he was strict. Not in a mean way, but he did enforce school rules and a rigorous grading policy. Man would not accept work a second late or if it didn’t meet the word requirements.

“Okay. I’ll be out with Alex tonight, so tell me how it goes with Jefferson,” she smiles sadly.

“I will. And make sure to use protection,” you grimaced. She laughed, telling you to knock it off and hurry to your lecture, which you did.

Thankfully, your speed walking did you good and you took your regular seat next to Aaron Burr. He was a quiet man, very respectful and polite, yet held himself with confidence. You knew you’d be friends the moment you first spoke to him about soulmates. He wasn’t listening to music at that time, and when you checked your wrist it had Love Yourz by J. Cole written on it.

So that ruled him out as your soulmate.

You became friends anyway, and shared feelings of excitement on when you’d meet your soulmate and how you wondered what they were like. He said he had a feeling as to who his was, but he needs to talk to her and figure it out for sure. Said he saw a glimpse of her wrist and it had the classical music song on it. Only Burr would be the type to listen to Mozart unironically.

“How’re you liking 1984?” He asks, referring to the book he recommended.

“It’s actually not bad. It’s not what I expected, but I do like it so far.” You reply, giving him a light shrug. He smiles and nods, and shortly after class starts.

—

You didn’t dress for the rain.

You didn’t even know it would rain.

So after pulling up to the library, drenched and miserable, you beelined for the bathroom to dry everything with shitty paper towels.

All they really did was dry your face and hands. The rest of you—your clothes, your hair, your shoes—was soaked and uncomfortable.

Thomas texted you asking if you arrived alright, and you replied with a bitter “give me two seconds.” After that, you inhaled sharply and walked back out. The library was pretty empty, but it was a Friday night so that wasn’t unusual. Aside from the librarian and the burnt out sophomores in the corner, it was just you and Thomas.

His eyes widened when he saw you, and he stifled a laugh. An immediate distaste bubbled inside you.

“Fuck off,” you growled, sitting across from him. He snickered a little more before collecting himself.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Are you okay? You must be cold,” he apologized, leaning forward on the table.

“I’m fine. I won't be staying long, considering I’m cold and wet and really want a hot shower.” You hugged your arms over your chest in a pathetic attempt to warm up.

A genuine frown spread on his face, and he stood, shrugging off his jacket. “Here, you need it more than me.” He held out the vintage jacket to you.

You stared at it, blinking, unable to form words. Why was he being sweet? You thought he was supposed to be a self-centered asshole, just like you assumed and like Eliza told you, but he was offering you his jacket.

“I…thank you, but it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” You decline after a prolonged silence.

“I insist,” he replies, circling around the table and draping the jacket over your shoulders. He smiled, staring down at you with a softer intent. You glanced at his wrist to see if his soulmate was listening to anything, but it was empty. “There. Now we can start.”

He retreats to his seat and pulls out a laptop, and you do the same. Fortunately, the laptop was safe from the rain but the rest of your bag was not. He starts up a conversation about the details of the paper, but you couldn’t focus.

How could you when his jacket smells like sandalwood and vanilla? And how could you focus when you liked the feeling of his jacket being around you?

You had to force those thoughts down. He’s not your soulmate. He probably already found his, and he was just doing this to be nice. But still, you had to ask. So you did.

“Have you found your soulmate yet?” You blurt.

A twinkle of amusement shines in his eyes, and he promptly pulls his hands off the keyboard. “No. Have you?”

“Not yet,” you reply dryly.

“Why do you ask?” He tilts his head, crossing his arms, and your gaze trailed to his toned biceps and forearms. Fuck, and his chest did that dip thing where—focus, damnit!

“I was just wondering. You’ve never said anything about her, so…” you shrugged.

He nodded, scanning your features. “Well, do you want to talk about her? You seem interested.”

“What kind of music does she like?” You ask, causing him to look down at his left wrist.

“Right now she’s not listening to anything,” he starts, “but she’s really been obsessed with Radiohead lately. It’s weird, but whenever I see a new song, I add it to a playlist so I can listen to it.” His eyes crinkle into a grin.

“No way, I do that too! It’s not weird.” Despite every urge telling you not to get comfortable with him, you do. A wide smile spreads on your face and you perk up a little.

“Really? What’s he like?” He pulls out his phone, probably to show you the playlist. You retrieve yours as well, scrolling until you found it.

“He listens to so much. It’s actually insane. Nothing right now, I guess,” you frown slightly at the emptiness on your arm.

“My soulmate listens to the same four songs on repeat, I swear. Then when she gets tired of it, she moves on to the next.” He rolls his eyes fondly, scooting his phone across the table for you to see.

Shit, this playlist had like, every song you listened to.

“…She has good taste,” you reluctantly speak, eyebrows furrowing. There’s no way…he can’t be. Right?

You turn your phone over to him, and he scrolls a little, eyes widening with each song. Then, a grin overtakes him.

“I have a lot in common with him.” He said.

“Do you?” You mumble in almost a trance-like state.

“Mhm.” He hums, voice low as he starts again. “Maybe we oughta check to be sure we ain’t each others soulmates.” A deep laugh escapes him, and a breathy one leaves you.

“..Yeah, we should.” You pull out your AirPods, as does he, and you put on Vienna by Billy Joel. He puts in his right airpod and scrolls until he clicks on a song.

Reluctantly, dreadfully, and anxiously, you check your left wrist.

Always by Daniel Caesar.

He checks his then shows you it. Sure enough, it says Vienna on it.

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, showing him your wrist as well. “You’re my soulmate.”

“I knew it,” his grin grew wider.

An almost instantaneous bitter rage overcame you. “What do you mean you knew it? How long have you known?”

“Relax,” he motions his hands for you to calm down, “I had a gut feeling this morning but I wasn’t sure. This is great! I’ve waited—“

“No, it’s not,” you interrupt, abruptly standing.

“What?” His face fell. Literally, you watched the excitement dissolve into confusion then hurt.

“It can’t be you.”

The words left you before you could process what you were saying. Shit, you didn’t want to say that. You didn’t want to watch his heart visibly break. How could you just deny your soulmate like that? He was supposed to be yours from the start. You were literally meant to be together, since the moment you came into this world.

It was supposed to be you and him. And yet here you stood, telling him no.

“What do you mean?” His voice cracks, barely above a whisper. He looks like he just got hit by a truck, like he got stabbed repeatedly in the heart.

“I should go,” you mutter, grabbing your bag and shoving the laptop in it. Tears pricked in your eyes, and you blinked them back. You needed time to process this, to come to terms with the fact that this man you absolutely despised was who you’re expected to spend the rest of your life with.

“Wait, Y/n, please,” he calls, rushing to pack up his belongings before chasing after you.

You ignore his pleads and step back into the storm, shielding your bag from the rainwater. He follows after you, shouting out your name, but you trudged through the rain. Eventually, he sighed, dropped his stuff, then sprinted to catch up.

You gasped when his hand met your arm, swiveling you to face him.

“Thomas! What’re you—“

He cuts you off by smashing his lips to yours. You let out a muffled gasp before your instincts kick in, and you find yourself kissing back.

And now you feel it.

The pull.

What other people described when they met their soulmate for the first time. The immediate attraction that they’re supposed to feel, yet somehow, you didn’t feel it upon interacting with him. But now…now you feel it.

Full force desire. Want.

His hands moved down to your lower back and waist, dragging you closer to him. Rain trickled down from the top of your head to cover every inch of you and Thomas, and yet, it felt like it was only you and him in the world. Nothing else seemed to matter except the heightened awareness of the fact you were pressed against your soulmate. It was bliss.

Then the bliss was over.

“Thomas…” you whispered, pushing off of him.

“Y/n,” he whispered back, his tone low and it made you feel all sorts of things.

“I need time,” you say. He nods, one hand caressing your jaw as he backs up. He didn’t seem mad, instead he seemed at peace with your decision.

“I’ll be waitin’ for you. Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart, I’ll always be waiting for you.”

—

“Eliza, I know who my soulmate is.” You blurted, voice desperate as you paced around the tiny dorm. You knew she was hanging with Alex tonight, and you didn’t plan on needing to call her, but this was an emergency.

“What?! That’s amazing! Who is it?” You can hear her perk up. Alex asks her to put you on speaker, which she does so. Alexander briefly says hello and congratulates you before asking who as well.

“So, funny story actually,” you start, a nervous laugh escaping you. “It’s Thomas.”

“What.” Both Alex and Eliza say, equal amounts of distaste in their voices.

“I know, I know—I wasn’t particularly thrilled either. But he’s not a bad guy,” you defend.

“Wow. I am so, so sorry, Y/n. Are you okay?” Alex sounds, and you roll your eyes. Only you were allowed to talk shit about Jefferson. He was your soulmate, after all.

“I’m fine,” you bite, “I just need to process it all.”

“Of course, girl, I’ll be back later tonight and we can talk about it more,” Eliza said. Her words were comforting and you thanked her before promptly hanging up.

So. What to do now other than reflect on the past 24 hours.

Thomas Jefferson, the man who called you a hall monitor and proceeded to insult your sweater, the man who got you in trouble on the first day, the man you swore to humiliate and destroy, ended up being your soulmate. Karma has a way of getting you, doesn’t it?

You checked your wrist. Watching Him Fade Away, Mac DeMarco. Okay, so he is not okay. Got it. You really need to think faster and make it up to him, because you know that even with his cool and collected, cocky exterior, he was still a person with a heart that you probably just shattered. You checked your phone for the millionth time that night, not at all because you’re anticipating if he was texting you, but to your dismay there was no new notifications.

So you sighed, grabbed your shower caddy and clothes to change into, and headed for the communal bathrooms. Not before realizing you were still in his jacket. It hurt you to have to take it off, but you did so anyway and neatly laid it on your bed.

After a lukewarm shower in a shitty locker room, you changed into pajamas and returned to your room, immediately flopping on your bed.

Still no new notifications. And still sad, slow songs listed on your wrist.

The door swung open, Eliza tumbling in. “I’m here! I’m here, tell me everything,” she rushed to your side.

You sat up, jaw slacked open, then started speaking. Slowly, hesitantly, then you picked up the pace and told her everything. The jacket, the realization, the kiss. Every little detail from the curve of his jaw to the glimmer in his eyes when he said ‘I knew it.’

“He said he would wait for me, Eliza, he said he’d wait for me.” At that point, tears you didn’t want in your eyes formed anyway. Hell, you didn’t even know why you were crying. Maybe because you know you’re so fucked up for rejecting your soulmate.

“As much as Alex and I dislike Jefferson, he’s still your soulmate. And you still need to at least give him an explanation as to why you needed time. Get some sleep tonight, and tomorrow you’ll feel better. I promise, love,” she smiled softly, pulling you in for a comforting hug.

In the week-and-a-half that you’ve known her, she’s been one of the most supportive friends you’ve ever had. Granted, one of the only friends since you’ve always struggled with socialization, but she didn’t seem to mind your slip ups or awkward silences.

“I got so lucky that you’re my roommate,” you mutter into her shoulder, tightening your grip. She squeezes you reassuringly.

“I could say the same for you. Now, get some rest,” she pulls off, standing up and retreating to her side of the room.

There was one last thing you had to do, though. You grabbed your phone from the side table, pulling up Thomas’s contact. You had him saved as Thomas (asshole), and since that’s not exactly appropriate for your soulmate's contact, you changed it to Thomas<3.

You: can we meet tmr at cafe serenity? 9 am?

Thomas<3: I’ll be there.

After that was taken care of, you comply with Eliza’s request and go to sleep, Thomas’s jacket lying next to you.

—

Thomas arrived earlier to the coffee shop than planned.

By the time you arrived, he was already sat in a little corner booth, staring out the window. A cup was snugly in his hands, and there was a latte across from him. You sank into the seat, his face instantly lighting up when he saw you.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, inwardly cursing at yourself for not knowing what else to say.

“Hey,” he smiled warmly, as if nothing was wrong.

“How’d you know I like lattes?” You picked up the cup in front of you, taking a sip. Your order wasn't exactly complicated, but it was still sweet how he went ahead and ordered for you, somehow knowing what you’d like.

“I saw it on your cup last time.” He shrugged, taking a drink of plain black coffee.

“Awh, thank you. Damn, now I really feel bad for last night,” you chuckle in a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood.

“I know I’m not who you expected or even wanted. But I am yours and I am determined to prove that to you,” he brings his voice down, reaching across the table and putting a hand on yours.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Thomas, you are who I want. No, you’re not what I expected, you’re a million times better. You challenge me and still want to be with me despite my flaws—Thomas, you are perfect and I am so, so sorry for saying what I said yesterday. I was shocked, but that’s no excuse. I really want to make things work between us, even though we’ve had a bitter past.” You finish your rant and he smiles real wide.

“I’m so glad it’s you.”

You couldn’t stop the grin that spread on your face, and you leaned across the table and met in the middle for a short, sweet kiss.

“Hey! Keep the PDA to a minimum, you damn kids!” The old lady behind the counter scolded you, and you broke apart in fits of giggles. He stringed his pinky with yours and tugged you out of the establishment, leading you to wherever felt right.

—

A heavy arm hung loosely around your waist, and the soft snores coming from Thomas awoke you. Your eyes fluttered open and you came face to face with the man you’ve come to love.

Eliza was with Alex, so you invited Thomas to spend the night and ended up cuddling in each other's arms. You smiled, careful not to wake him, and shuffled so you were back in his embrace.

This, you decided, was peace. This is what was meant for you.

[gretavanbear]

The Professor - Joshua Kiszka x F!Reader

[hello :) welcome to my new fic! i hope you all enjoy! I want to thank Allie for inspiring me to write this fic, Molly and Alex for helping me with it, and J my #1 Josh fic supporter!]

SCREENING #1: Citizen Kane

As you carefully selected your application for university, you decided on which classes to take. There were a great variation of different courses available to you due to your selected program; Film Studies. Originally, it wasn’t in your plans to go to university, but you allowed to let yourself be convinced by your favorite high school teacher.

You had just finished unpacking your belongings in your dorm room last night and today you were nervously getting ready for your first class. You decided to dress comfortably for today, the nerves from your expectations for this semester took over you. An oversized AC/DC hoodie with leggings was the safest choice for you. You slipped on your old white vans and grabbed your backpack, which contained your laptop and a notebook. 

You entered the amphitheater shaped classroom which was filled by about twenty people, yet it must've sat at least two hundred. You decided to sit near the front; thinking about how it’ll be easier for you to focus if you aren’t far from the screen. You placed your backpack onto the empty seat next to you, placing your computer onto the little desk in front of you and turning it on. You set up a document for your notetaking and as you set up your workspace on your laptop, you didn’t realize the person who was arriving at the front of the class. 

He looked young, maybe mid-twenties? He had brown curly hair, a short goatee that framed his face perfectly, and round glasses that covered his pretty chocolate eyes. He wore a white long sleeve tee with beige pants and some high top white vans, and a long necklace that reached his stomach. He held a soft-ish aura around him, making him appear so gentle. 

You checked the time on the upper right screen of your computer and realize class had started about five minutes ago. Where’s the professor? You asked yourself as your eyes scanned the room, though they dashed straight to the front as a low, raspy voice emerged, accompanied by some microphone feedback. 

“Good afternoon, lovely people.” his raspy voice took over the room, though as low as it was he still sounded very soft. He was met with silence from your classmates, but it didn’t stop him. 

“My name is Joshua” He cleared his throat. “Josh. You may refer to me with either of those. I am your professor for this course, and I am very excited to teach you guys about the fundamentals of film! Or as seen through your course’s official name… Film Topics 101. We can all agree that name sounds fucking boring.” he chuckled a little which made you smile. He walked around the stage at the front of the class, instantly comfortable in front of all these people. 

“So, for this fifteen week course, my goal is for you guys is to understand the way films are made and why that is important. If you guys could just look up at the screen here, we’ll go over the syllabus together.” He spoke as he jumped down from the stage and walked over to the podium which had a computer on it, he pulled out the syllabus and presented it to the classroom on the big screen. 

You watched Joshua intently as he explained the syllabus, your brain melted at the sound of his voice. How could he look so soft and sound so raspy? He seemed very kind and understanding from the way he presented himself. He spoke with a soft smile, maybe to appear more friendly to the students in his classroom and it was comforting. 

As he finished presenting the syllabus, he walked up to the stage and sat on the edge, taking a moment to drink out of his dark green hydro flask, and then looked around the room for a couple seconds. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, until his brown eyes made eye contact with you. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and your heartbeat quicken as he flashed you a small smile before clearing his throat and preparing himself to speak again. 

“For today’s screening, I’ve decided to put Citizen Kane on our schedule.” he paused as a couple students sighed loudly in the classroom, the sound making you huff out of annoyance at their cocky-ness. Personally, you loved that film. “I know.. I know.. But Jooosh we’re film students we alllll saw it already.” He mimicked a whine. “That’s too bad, we’re going to watch it, and then discuss it after the screening. I hope to see you all after that” He spoke, turning off his microphone and setting it down on the podium on the left side of the room. You watched him take a seat in the front of the classroom as the opening shot of the film flashed on the screen. 

The lights turned back on slowly as the credits rolled across the screen, and Joshua got up to announce a fifteen minute break. You watched your peers leave the classroom and as you turned your head back to the front, Joshua stood in front of you hesitantly. 

“Hey there.” He smiled gently. 

You cleared your throat nervously and watched him sit down on a seat in front of you, facing you and flashing you that pretty smile. 

“Hello” you spoke softly, fidgeting with your hands. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, his eyes fixed on you as he waited for an answer. You couldn’t help but smile at him, the way he looked at you made you feel so welcomed in his classroom. 

You tell him your name, followed by “it’s nice to meet you, Joshua” you said gently and he grinned at your name, finally being able to put a name to your pretty face. 

He repeats your name to himself softly, smiling at the sound. 

“What’d you think of the movie?” he leans in slightly, exposing his interest as to what you’re going to respond with. 

“Well.. It’s Citizen Kane” you chuckle, watching him reciprocate the action. “I think.. we’ve all seen it. But, one thing that stands out to me in this movie is the framing. I really love the framing of the characters. I believe Welles did a really good job at positioning the viewer in a place where they can understand Charles’ life story.” You rambled about the film nervously, wondering if he agrees with you. He pauses for a second, listening to your words and replaying them in his head. 

“Spot on. You, my dear, are going to do great in this class.” He smiled, exhaling a little out of his nose as he got up, watching everyone come back in the room. 

“Welcome back! So, what we’re going to do is have a class discussion regarding the film we watched today. Why do you think I decided to put this on the syllabus?” Josh spoke into the microphone, the feedback squeaking a little as the room adjusted to his voice. 

“Yeah, you?” He nodded up at someone who was sat towards the back of the room. 

“Because it’s the movie that created the film industry?” 

“Oh! Great answer! Not the one I was looking for though. Anyone else?” Josh smiled at the person, then his eyes landed on you. In resolution, you hesitantly raised your hand and waited for him to address you. 

He says your name excitedly, followed by “Yes?” He smiled eagerly at what you’re going to say. 

“I was going to say the camera work of the film? If you watch the way Welles decided to frame his characters, it speaks a lot about the position of said characters.” You hesitated, keeping your voice low in case it wasn’t the right answer. 

“Yes! Thank you.” Josh smiled at you. 

You heard someone behind you cough and mumble ‘teacher’s pet’ and Josh shot them a quick glare before addressing the classroom once again. 

“We should focus on the framing of the camera and its effects in a movie. Ask yourself, why did the director choose this angle? Why did he keep that object in the frame? Why is it important to the movie?” He explained, walking around on the stage as he spoke. You nodded slightly at his words; looking down at the screen of your computer and typing out the answers to his questions.

You rarely ever spoke up in class. Maybe it was the way Joshua looked at you, the way he smiled when you decided to say something. He could tell you were nervous, and his brown eyes eased you into the comfort of communicating your thoughts. 

“For next class, I want you all to think about the work that goes behind creating a film; why does a film require so much thought behind it? I want you guys to place yourselves in the point of view of the director when watching a movie or a television show, think about what you’d do differently and we’ll talk about it next class! Good evening guys.” Josh smiled as he turned off the microphone, clearing his throat and taking another sip from his hydro flask. 

You started cleaning up your things, placing your computer in your bag and getting up from your seat. As Josh heard you place your bag on your shoulders, he gave you a little wave and you reciprocated the action, shooting him a soft smile. 

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[asherloki]

Hi, I saw your requests are open and I have an idea...

Maybe a Sherlock coffeeshop fic where you are his favourite barista or smt?

Only if you want to ofc! Thanks!

Coffee shop romance

BBC Sherlock

A/n :- well I just turned the barista thingy to a university student! Hope you still like it.

My Sunday mornings spent peacefully at my favourite coffee shop here in Baker Street. I moved to London to do master's in English literature. So each Sunday I come here with a notebook, writing notes. And it's a wonderful time here with the delicious food, very friendly stuffs. Last Sunday was the same, I sat on my favourite table and started my work with a cup of hot coffee and a few cookies. The bell rang sweetly as it does when someone enters the cafeteria. I didn't bother much until that man who entered, sat beside my table. I stole a glance at him, he was quite tall, wore a black coat, a blue scarf, he was pale and his cheekbones, rather sharp. Well he looked dishy but anyway I resumed my work. Until I heard him speak as he said to the waitress, "don't you have tea?" My goodness, his voice is as attractive as his looks.

"Sir, we have tea latte". Replied the waitress politely.

"That's not tea, fine just a coffee then". He said. And the waitress went to fetch him some. Then he was glued to his phone as I saw him tweeting 'beautiful Sunday morning.'

I quickly looked away from him to my notebook as I found myself staring, I don't like invading into anyone's privacy.

I kept on writing and searching, also texting my friends. Until the same heavy voice spoke, I turned to confirm he spoke to me.

"jane Austen" he said as his eyes were fixed on my notebook. I turned my head towards him and said, "yes, just a note on her".

"Hello, it's Sherlock Holmes." He said , streching out his hand towards me for a handshake.

"Hi, you're Sherlock Holmes? Wow! The detective?" I asked in surprise as I've always heard of him. Also knew he and I both live in Baker Street. But this is the first time we met and he seemed less cold, compared to what people say.

"Yes" he said with a soft laugh, oh gosh did he really blush? "Literature student?" He asked me.

"Yes" I answered as I smiled at him.

"Aren't you all too obsessed with her?" He enquired turning in my way.

"Obsessed would be an overstatement ". He seemed a little doubtful of this answer.

"Yet I see that you're writing a note on her, also I saw as your pages flipped by air you wrote about John Donne too."

'what a quick observer' I thought to myself.

"Yes I did, they're in my syllabus so I have to, yet my favourite is something else".

"Ah! What's that?" He asked he seemed rather interested in this conversation now.

"Though popular but our professors once said to me that it's an odd choice indeed." Which is true, guess everyone has their own opinion on things and especially on novels.

" I insist, do tell me" He said and then he asked, "may I shift to your table please?"

"Sure" I mean we are talking anyway so why not. He took his chair and sat at my table infront of me. "So?"

"It's um, Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens." I replied.

"Oh, Ebenezer Scrooge innit?."

"I'm a little unlike other people." I replied nervously.

"Same" he said. As he was looked at to be an odd person, unlike the normal people around us. Then after a moment of quietness and smiles he said, making his voice heavier "Christmas is a humbug".

"Right". I replied giggling, "you did a good Scrooge you know".

"Well, I've heard many times from John, 'oh don't be such a Scrooge." He said a bit annoyed. But in fun way

"John?" I asked.

"My friend... Actually my best friend".

"Ah I see, so... You mind being called Scrooge?" Even though anyone would but I was enjoying this conversation so I couldn't help but ask.

"Mmm... Debatable but people doesn't seem to be fond of him, and.... Perhaps they're not fond of me too."

"I like Scrooge, I mean not the cold and distant and cruel one, but his transformation, ah how incredible."

To this reply he gave me a doubtful look.

"Yes I do, Honestly, perhaps I'm the only one who found him a little less annoying." I replied with a little laughter. I saw his eyes becoming soft again, he lowered his gaze and looked up again.

"You think there's anything good in me?" His question made me wonder, why? Doesn't people see him the way I do? Is he really cold and rude? He didn't seem so, he's rather nice, does people's comments effects him?

"Yes ofcourse, look at you, you're popular for your intelligence and you're not rude or cold. Perhaps when you work you don't behave in the best way but now, all you did was being kind to me, and I know what having different opinions than the rest feels like, if you see we're both"

"Odd" he completed my sentence with a smile.

"Yes"I replied. We sat again quietly for a minute or so and then he asked hesitating,

"Actually where are you staying if I may ask?"

"Here in Baker Street".

"Ah well actually..." He was quite nervous before completing his question.

"Yes?" I urged him to enquire.

"If you want to continue this conversation then... My flat has a spare room for you." And a beautiful smile lit up his face.

"I think I'd like that very much, Mr Holmes." Obviously, I'd love to have him around and his adventures.

"Sherlock please." He insisted.

"Ok, Sherlock." I said and then a question popped into my head, "tell me something, is literature, poems, novel really your cup of tea? I believe, you're a man of logical reasoning and science, so ..."

He got I was meaning to ask so he replied,

"True that, maybe the young lady who's fond of Christmas Carol, would be nice to have around me". He said with a wink. And that's where I knew, now my address is too 221b Baker Street.

[throwyourselfintotheunknown]

kesha — first encounter

find more information about kesha here! this is my first writing post ever for this blog. it’s not too dark yet, but I hope the tone is creepy enough to pique your interest. also if you see any errors . . . no you didn’t.  thank you for reading, don’t forget to like / reblog if you enjoyed it :) 

art credit: tsubaki-chou lonely planet (manga)

summary: you remember first meeting him in math class word cont: ~ 900 words tw: implied stalking (?)

You remember first meeting him in math classIt was a required courses for your gen eds, and as expected it was packed. Most seats had already been taken. Yes, you were a bit late, but your morning class was on the other side of the campus and you couldn’t afford to buy yet another bicycle ( the past two bikes you owned had its wheels stolen within a week of purchasing it ). So your only option was to speed walk while trying to look composed in front of the world’s most influential children.

As you finally made it to class however your face was flushed a rosy color and you began to look for a place to sit. There were a few options you were sizing up in your head, and just as you were about to approach a friendly looking girl, a voice called out to you. 

“Are you looking for a seat?”

His voice was smooth, rich, and had you questioning why he was speaking to you in the first place. He looked curious but not overly excited. Leaning forward to press his hand against his cheek and he motioned with his head to the seat next to him.

“Sit.”

You didn’t enjoy being told what to do, but as the professor began to write on the white board you did as you were told. 

Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing though. 

You’re a smart student, you read the syllabus even before class started ( mentally preparing for the high school calculus you would need to relearn ), and you knew that a group project was going to be assigned within the first month of class — something about a math paper?

Regardless of the exact details, you didn’t want to be that one student who asked the professor to assign you to a group. If you could make friends with the stranger next to you then maybe you would be spared that specific embarrassment. 

“I’m Y/N by the way.”

His gaze hadn’t left your face since you sat down, his black eyes were half closed and seemed to be scrutinizing you. The man didn’t respond and continued to stare at you as though you were something to be inspected. Unnerved, you adjusted your body to face the professor and pressed your lips together in displeasure. What the hell was his problem? 

-

“There will be a math lab every Thursday and Friday in the library from 1:00 - 2:30. I won’t be there, but a few graduate students will be to answer any questions you may have.” The professor seemed exasperated. Repeating yourself five times a day had to be exhausting. “All of this information is on your syllabus in case you forget. Now, if you don’t have anymore questions you’re free to go. I’ll be hanging back for a few minutes in case anyone wanted to speak with me.”

With that the sound of laptops shutting and backpacks being zipped up signaled the end of your first day. Without much pretense you put the notebook you had taken out into your own satchel and stood up to leave.

“Kesha.” You turned around to look at him, annoyed. He was towering over you now, and his face turned unkind. Slowly he walked passed you, his shoulder bumping into yours. “Please remember it this time.”

This time, what the hell did that mean? You shook that thought from your mind, maybe he said it while you were trying to ignore him. You had a tendency to forget what was displeasing.

Kesha left as the next wave of students entered, and if it weren’t for the way he looked so out of place with his perfect posture you probably wouldn’t have noticed his lack of a book bag.

You didn’t seem to think anything of it though. After all, everyone knew the first day of a new semester was just spent going over syllabus.

— 

God, you were frustrating.

A man walks along a dirt path and he listens to the sound of leaves being crushed beneath his weight. The noise is cacophonous and bothers him, but then again there is very little that doesn’t.

He thinks back to your face in class and the way your nose twitched as you tried to focus your attention on the dull drone of the professor. A small smile forms on his lips as he basks in the memory of your pretty voice. There was something to the way you talked that gave him goosebumps.

He wonders how he could make you converse with him again. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to ignore you, but how could he not be stunned into silence when you treated him like a stranger? He sighs and scratches his head.

“I miss you.”

The man opens the door to a small church, and allows for a sliver of light to penetrate the darkness. As it closes, the sound feels final and soon the dreamy look on the man’s face is replaced with something harder — more serious.

“Kehsa, so glad you could make it,” a stern but feminine mocks, “Since everyone is here now, shall we begin?”

There is no enthusiasm as Kesha joins hands with his fellow club members, and internally he begins to count down the minutes before he can see you again.

‘Only an hour to go.’

[decadentpaperduck]

Happy Accidents - TASM!Peter x Fem Reader

Words: 2.2k Warning: Fluff! Summary: You and Peter meet entirely by accident and from that moment, all that follows appears to be happy accidents.

You wonder if a dress is too…dressy for what is essentially a study session. Its just plain black, so not exactly raunchy, but you didn't want to make no effort at all. Besides, what if your study partner has some cute roommates?

The last year of college was notoriously known for lecturers asking students to complete tasks that should have been set in the first semester. Your lecturer had asked you, and class clown James Johnson, to put together a powerpoint presentation on some of the literary theories you’d been studying. It was a box to tick on the syllabus, but you don’t mind, if nothing else, it would be a laugh.

 When the door to James' apartment opens, it wasn't him standing in front of you. James had blonde hair and a nose ring. This boy had brunette hair and a lopsided smile you could just devour.

“Are you here for James?” His voice is soft, smooth and comforting, a total shift from James’ personality. His eyes seem to scan down your body but there is nothing lingering or uncomfortable about the look, it was welcome.

“Yeah.” You feel your throat drying up and swallowed hard, trying to regain some composure. He stands back and holds the door open for you. "Thanks."

"Any time." You wonder how many other times there might be.

Someone else strides in from what you assumed to be the kitchen, also not your powerpoint partner.

"James, my dude. Parker has had to let your girlfriend in, so stop fucking about with your hair already!" And with that, Nameless Nomad disappears towards the back of the apartment.

 The one known as Parker was now sat down on the couch, in a divot he must occupy frequently.

“Maybe take a seat, I really don’t know how long he’ll be.” You timidly take a seat, close enough to be friendly but not overbearing. He picks up a large blue book from the coffee table, something science related strewn across the cover. As soon as the pages fall open, he seems entranced. A smile spreads across your lips, perhaps even a grin. You reach up to your face and scratch your nose, hoping to obscure the view. He notices, but pretends not to, clearing his throat and shifting his position on the couch to get a better look at you out of the corner of his eye.

 James eventually jogs out of the hallway, slightly red in the face. "I'm here. I'm here." He holds up his hands and bows his head, as though you had been waiting hours for this moment. "I'm sure Pete was chatting your ear off." He winks and chuckles at his own joke. The blank look on your face tells him it went right over your head. You hadn’t even known his proper name until that second. James over explains. "He isn't a chatty dude."

Pete shrugs in response, he knew he wasn’t. He was simply selective in his word choices and who he spoke freely with. He wasn’t sure himself how much of it was his personality or how much of it was secret identity related. "Are you okay to do this out here in the living room?"

"Course I am." You laugh. "It would have been weirder if you'd asked me to go with you to your room, don't you think?"

"Okay…you’ve got me there. Haven’t had enough sleep.” God only knew what he got up to at the weekends. ”Want a drink?"

You agree to a water. Remembering the sudden dehydration that overcame you when you arrived.

When James comes back he pops your water on the table and takes a swig of a fresh bottle of beer. "Never too early." James remarks before you can even nod a thank you.

 You and James make a semi-formal routine of these study sessions for the following few days until one day you arrive and there was no James. Nameless nomad, now known as Tom, opens the door.

“Hey!” He yanks the door open wide. “He’s not here at the minute, not sure where he is. You’re welcome to come in and wait.”

“Sure.” You agree without much thought and step directly into the living room and sit at the spot on the couch you had claimed as your own.

“I’m just in the middle of a game right now so I have to shoot, but I’ll catch you later maybe?” You wave him off and pull your phone out of your bag to check the time. Maybe it was too late in the day. Maybe he had other plans. Oh well. It crosses your mind that if you don’t see James, you may well see someone else. Someone you had been looking forward to seeing.

 Out of the kitchen walked Peter Parker himself, the man who had been featuring in all of your dreams since you met. You hated to admit that. You had only met him like three times prior to this moment, it felt unfair to have him occupy so much space in your brai-

“Penny for your thoughts?” His voice breaks through your messy thoughts as he drops himself down on the sofa. You are sure he is sitting closer to you each time there was an opportunity. You hope you aren’t just making it up.

“I think I would have to charge you more than that I am afraid.” He tilts his head, urging you to continue. “I have student loans to pay.” Peter’s laugh is a delight to your ears. He is great at laughing at your jokes. He either sincerely finds you funny or has exceptional social cues.

“Okay,” He pauses and leans towards you, “Indulge me.” There is a moment of panic as you realise that you want to tell him but now is not the right time.

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking if you tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Deal.” That was easier than you thought. “Why are you here to work on a presentation that’s as good as done?”

“I wanted to be sure it was okay.” You start to wonder why you are here. Is it the project, is it Parker?

“James must think it’s okay if he isn’t currently here trying to work on it with you. No?”

“So you are saying my study partner stood me up!” You huff jokingly. “You could have said earlier if he’s made other plans!” He smiles.

“Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean you’re not welcome.”

"Oh yeah?"

"You're just not welcome anyway." You can tell he is trying hard not to laugh. He is pinning his mouth closed at the edge with his teeth and his eyebrow is definitely twitching.

"Oh I see how it is.” You make a dramatic move to get up but his hand grips around your wrist and pulls you back down next to him.

“No need to make any hasty decisions.” His hand is still around your wrist, just loosely. You look down at them together. He doesn’t take his hand away until your eyes meet his again. “Sorr-”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“Good.” He nods. “I don’t actually want you to go.” Internally, Pete questions if that was the most ridiculous thing he has ever said to someone he met not even a week ago.

“Okay, I’ll wait till his royal highness shows up.” You don’t get to share what you are thinking, but something told you he knew.

 James doesn’t show up, and Peter knows this a couple of hours before you do. Whilst you took a quick bathroom break to refresh your hair and lip balm, James had sent a message to the flat group chat saying that something had come up, so if his study partner was to arrive at the flat, they were to send her home with an apology. The something that came up was a girl, Pete and Tom both understood that, but they didn’t say anything about it.

Peter figured that, in this instance, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you, or at least he hoped that would be the case.

It turns into a different type of studying session. The topic? You. You are not typically one to talk about yourself but Peter makes it so easy. He wants to know, it’s like he is studying for a test, one he intends to get full marks for. Both of you are feeding into one another’s attraction and it feels premature and a little rushed but it is reciprocated.

In addition, Pete can’t stop staring at your legs. You had opted to wear a dress this morning, on purpose of course. He indirectly addresses his glances, not wanting you to feel as though he is being creepy about it.

“Do you always wear dresses?” He asks, breaking a train of thought on something entirely different.

“Special occasions.” You play.

“What’s so special about this occasion?” His demeanour had certainly shifted from the first day you met him. His elbow is draped over the back of the sofa and his stance is open and inviting, had it been a different situation you would have crawled into his lap and kissed him.

“Before you let it go to your head, I didn’t even know you’d be in today Parker.” You did, as did he.

“Ah so the target was our leading man, Mr J Johnson?”

“I wouldn’t say that. Honestly, it was more of an accident.”

 A few hours pass and Tom walks out of his den and raises his eyebrows at Peter. He knows about the text message, you don’t, so the look is lost on you. The man you had spent the past few hours with seemed to switch up again when Tom was in the room.

“How about I walk you home?”

“It’s not exactly late.”

“Call it compensation for having to spend the afternoon with me instead of working on your project.”

“You really don’t have to.” You find yourself being sincere with him in that moment, instead of the sarcasm you have been responding with since you got there.

“I want to.” Seems the sincerity is flowing both ways.

“Okay.” You stand up and brush yourself down, suddenly feeling the tension rush to your head like alcohol.

Pete follows suit, pulling on a pair of scuffed up trainers before opening the door for you. “Always the gentleman.” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes before checking his pockets for his keys. He shuts the door behind you and scampers closely after you.

“I just realised, I have no idea how far away you live and I could have just agreed to walk you nine miles across the city.”

“Lucky for you, it’s like, five minutes.” Pete stops himself from saying that that sounds like the opposite of lucky for him. It’s only five minutes to work up the courage to ask for your number.  

 When you reach your door, you turn to him and smile. You will him to ask you out, to kiss you. Something. He clears his throat.

“I have a…well there is an exhibition of some of the photographs I’ve taken, next week.” Your interest is piqued. “The exhibition is next week, not the photos I’ve taken, I already took those.” You try not to laugh at the way he fumbles his words. “I eh, thought you might want to come take a look at them with me next week?”

“Sure.” You don’t care about the date, time, or location. You want to be there.

“I, eh.” He didn’t think you would be so up for it. “You don’t have to commit now. I can’t remember the details so if I give you my number and you just shoot me a yes, or a no, or nothing at all,” he laughs nervously. “I’ll uh, get back to you with details. Or not.” He grins that lovely, lopsided grin and you have to stop yourself swooning on the spot. You will absolutely send him that text. You will undoubtedly be there.

 -

 You see Peter, standing where he said he would meet you, underneath the smallest oak tree at the edge of the University campus. He has two disposable coffee cups in his hands and a camera strap slung over his shoulder. He meets your eye as you are but ten steps from him and reaches out his hand to give you one of the cups.

“Latte, two sugars?”

“It’ll do.” You jest, taking it from him as you come to a stop.

“Thank you so much Pete, what would I ever do without you?” You giggle as you start walking again, towards the exhibition hall.

“Hey Pete,” He turns his attention towards you, the pair of you still moving forward. “I was chatting with James the other day, recapping the project,” You can see he is trying to predict where you are going with this, “and he said he told you guys he wouldn’t be back, that day you walked me home.” A smile dances across your eyes. “Wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

“Oh, of course, damn. I must have forgotten.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. “An honest accident.”

“Ah, an accident.”

“You’re familiar with accidents.” You give a questioning look. “You know, what you said about wearing a dress the other day. Just like you are now.” He gestures to your outfit and winks. You’ve been caught red handed. “So is this an accident or a special occasion?”

[btsficsforthehumble]

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Five

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: New characters, yay! Just an fyi but I would like to start posting one chapter every week... thots?? Also, I've been thinking of adding a taglist? sksk I know it would be small but I personally love to get tagged when new chapters come out for my faves. If that's something ya'll would like comment so I know!! Alright, back to your regularly scheduled program :)

----

Literature was next. Now this? This you could handle. Always being a bit of an avid reader, you could devour a novel in one night --- and you often did. Finding the hidden meanings between the lines of text, like unwrapping a present, gave you a thrill. You were the person who could debate for hours about the meaning of a symbol in a book, as annoying as that is to everyone else.

Maybe it was the promise of escape, where you could be transplanted into another world, detached from your own, that appealed so much to you about reading. You could lose yourself, feeling the rush of the love affair or the thrill of a dangerous adventure. Coupled with your analytical nature, you felt more than at home in a literature classroom.

With this in mind, you make your way to your next class with more vigor than usual. When you arrive and take a seat, you pull out your materials and wait for class to begin.

Several minutes later, your professor walks to the podium in the front of the room to introduce herself. After several minutes of reviewing the syllabus, she explains the structure of the class. You were to be placed in small groups, to discuss the readings and write a paper at the end of the semester. This made you a little nervous --- having to rely on others to some capacity for your grade always gave you a bit of anxiety.

She began reading out the names of the students belonging to each group, so you listen carefully as to not miss your own name despite your anxious thoughts swirling inside your head.

“... Eum Hee-Young, Gal Ae-Cha, Ree Mun-Hee, you are group seven. Kim Seokjin, Y/l/n y/f/n, Kim Namjoon, you are group eight. Ok Youngsoo…” her voice fades off as you glance around the room, trying to meet the gazes of other searching eyes as your group was announced.

Your eyes meet those of a guy who looked maybe a year or two older than you, with round, wire frame glasses. His mahogany hair was pushed off of his forehead, parted to the side giving him a youthful but put-together look. He holds up eight fingers, looking at you expectedly, and you nod quickly. He picks up his belongings, preparing to move to you as you had empty space in the seats around you. As he slings his backpack over a shoulder, you scan your eyes around the room to try to catch the other member of your group.

To your surprise, your eyes meet those of the same boy you had ogled over yesterday in your calculus class, before it had started. You shyly hold up your own eight fingers, to which he gives a decisive nod to, and begins to make his way to you as well. You can’t help but notice the planes of his back as he bends down to grab his backpack, his wide shoulders tilting making them seem even larger. He is wearing a simple blue button down and jeans, but even through that you could tell his shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, making him have the perfect masculine inverted triangular build.

Slightly embarrassed at your thoughts, you glance at your other partner, now close to you. His oversized yellow knit sweater swallowed him a little, but with the glasses gave him a cute bookish look. His large frame juxtaposed his cute appearance --- he was on the taller side and seemed built as well. You made eye contact, and gestured to the seat next to you for him to sit. The other boy now approaching, you both watch as he takes the other open seat in front of you.

Your group now assembled, you tune back into your professor who was explaining the first text you were to read together. She told you that it was a short love story that relied heavily on symbolism and became a prominent symbol in and of itself in movies and television. Your first assignment was to analyze the symbolism of the text, and come to a more complex conclusion than what the surface of the text presents. You could feel yourself becoming slightly excited to jump into the assignment as she explained.

“You will be given the rest of class to get acquainted with your group members. They will be permanent, bar any issues that may arise. The first assignment is due at the end of next class. While on this first assignment I will be more lenient with grading, please do your best and set a good standard for your groups. Okay, go ahead everyone,” she finishes.

At her dismissal of your attention, you glance back at your group members. The boy with glasses speaks first. “I’m Namjoon, nice to meet you guys.”

“Seokjin, or just Jin,” the other boy gives.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you both.”

“So, what year and major are you? I’m a third year, and a journalism major,” Namjoon offers. As he speaks, he gives you both a grin that displays deep dimples on both cheeks. He was very cute, you decided. He had a nerdy charm to him, with a build on the beefy side that made you want to cuddle him.

“I’m a first year… and to tell the truth I haven’t decided on a major yet,” you admit, but give them both a smile.

“Ah, hoobae, you are lucky you are with us pros then! I’m a fourth year, and a business major,” Seokjin says with a wide smile.

“Sunbaenim, are you in calculus before this? I thought I recognized you from there,” you downplay a little. You knew he was in that class since you had spent time checking him out in it, but didn’t want to seem creepy.

“I have a recognizable face.” At this he gives a smug look, but is clearly using a joking tone. “Yeah, calculus with Yoo at nine?”

“Yep. That guy goes so fast,” you frown. “But anyways, how do you guys feel about this assignment?”

Namjoon enters the conversation again, “Honestly I’m kind of excited for it. It’s been a while since I’ve done any reading that isn’t research related, which kind of sucks.”

“That does suck. I love to read, that’s why I took this class, actually,” you empathize.

“Yeah? What do you like to read?” Namjoon leans towards you a bit, excited at the prospect of talking about reading it seems.

“Oh, um… I’d say my favorite genre is probably any type of fantasy, I like being able to be in a different world for a bit. Oh, I also like historical pieces, that stuff is always so interesting.” You were a little hesitant to share, afraid he’d judge your preferences.

“I love historical pieces. I think that’s one of the things that lead me into journalism actually, it’s basically writing history for those in the future to look back on. I just think that’s really cool.” His eyes seemed glitter as he talked about something he was obviously passionate about. You felt yourself developing a soft spot for the boy, finding his friendly disposition and slightly nerdy personality to be incredibly endearing. It didn’t hurt he was also very attractive.

“What about you sunbaenim? Do you like to read?” you ask Seokjin, whose head was oscillating between you and Namjoon.

Surprised the attention shifted to him, his eyes widened to give him an owlish look. You are really surrounded by some beautiful men, you think. What do they put in the water here? It would be normal to run across a cute guy here or there, but this is kind of ridiculous. Seokjin himself has a face that is so beautiful it looks like it should have been carved out of marble!

Focus! You have to scold yourself. The boy you were just admiring in your head is now answering your question and you are too distracted to even process what he’s saying.

“... not too crazy, occasionally I guess…” His body language told you that he was slightly embarrassed at not being as enthusiastic a reader as you and Namjoon.

“I’m sure you have hobbies that are cooler than reading then, if I was athletic or creative I wouldn’t read so much either! Namjoon-sunbaenim, I’m sure you agree,” you encourage with a smile, wanting Namjoon to follow suit in making Seokjin feel comfortable.

Thankfully, he catches on quick. “Oh, yeah, I am way too clumsy to do anything more high stakes than page turning,” He chuckles. You and Seokjin both smile at Namjoon’s subtle self-deprecation. They both were sweet, you think. Your earlier fears about working with others subside. “I guess I could say that I do have another hobby though, I actually help out at the school’s radio station for fun,” Namjoon adds shyly.

Jin tilts his head in surprise. “Oh really? I have a friend who…”

He gets abruptly cut off by the professor’s voice echoing through the room, which causes him to stop his thought.

“Hopefully everyone is acquainted now, and is ready to get to work next class. I expect good things from you all this semester. You are dismissed,” your professor says with finality.

The three of you quickly gather your things, ready to merge with the swarm of students streaming out of the door. You give them both a smile, and say, “It was nice meeting you both. See you next class!” to which they give their own farewell.

As you leave, you check your phone out of habit. It seems your intuition is right, as usual.

*Miss me yet?*

Does Taehyung really have nothing better to do?

*What exactly is there to miss?*

You hope that after your curt response he’d get the memo. This guy is such a fuckboy, you think. While you don’t know why he set his sights on you for now, you hope he gets bored soon. While you give that tough persona to him, the truth is you are more sensitive than that. The idea of being used for sex once and then discarded was unappealing, and Taehyung seemed like the type to do just that.

----

Finally home after attending two more classes for the day, which were thankfully much less eventful, you slip off your shoes and let your bag slide off your shoulder to thunk on the floor. You were tired. And hungry, apparently, because your stomach makes some concerning noises as soon as you slip your light jacket off. You make your way to the kitchen at the sound, ready to make a nice dinner and decompress.

When you get there, you see one of your new roommates sitting at the stools for your kitchen counter. This roommate was one that you had connected with immediately, drawn to her blunt but fun-loving aura. Her short stature, shorter than average, gave no warning for her and ‘gives-no-fucks’ attitude. You could tell however, that inside she had a soft heart. Even in your short time together, you had seen glimpses of it here and there.

You learned when you had met that she had moved to Korea from America last year, making her a second year at your university. Her features stood out from the crowd, with brown skin and large curls that framed her face in a halo. She was really quite beautiful. Tia, but called Bean by her friends, which now included you, made you feel welcomed to campus and you were thankful for her.

Wanting to not scare her as you walked into the kitchen, you gave her a greeting. Her head pops up from where it was buried in her phone, which had been drawing her into her own world.

“Hey chickie. Long day?” she asks. Apparently your exhaustion was pretty obvious if she could tell right off the bat. You sigh, bending over to pull some vegetables out of the fridge.

“I just want to know who let me schedule four classes on Tuesdays. They should be in jail,” you complain.

She gives you an amused look, watching you now stand at the cutting board to prepare your food. “I think that person was you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. If I could go back in time and slap my past self I would,” you grown with your head tipped back. She lets out a laugh at your expense.

“Don’t laugh at me unnie! I’m going to pass away from exhaustion over here!” you try to say seriously, but can’t help but let out a little giggle. “What were you doing with your head buried in your phone, huh? Are you talking to someone?” you tease, pointing your knife at her with your other hand on your hip.

“Why, do you wish it was you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, giving you a side smirk. You knew she was deflecting, so you lift your eyebrow and give her a flat expression, waiting for her real answer. “Ugh, it’s nothing. There was just this really cute girl in my class today, and I tried talking to her but she didn’t really seem like she liked me… and I may have just been looking at her social media,” Tia admitted.

Now at the stove, stirring your dinner, you look over your shoulder to say something that would hopefully ease her anxiety. “You know that you can come on strong sometimes, maybe she’s just a little shy, ya know? Maybe try again with a softer approach,” you offer. “What is there not to like?”

She gives you a wide grin to match your own at your last remark. You both giggle, any tension in the air from Tia’s concerns gone. Dinner now finished, you grab two bowls and serve you both. You both slip into easy banter, almost like you two have been friends for years. You hope that you will be, someday.

[notmrskennedy]

Professor, pt 1

A/N - so i heard from like four of you which is enough to warrant me posting drafts that weren’t supposed to see the light of day - ANYWAY this was originally written in third person and let me tell you it takes a ridiculous amount of effort to change tenses like holy hell. 

(Technically the prequel Friendliness but can stand alone if you really want it to. There’s a part two to this so watch out for that tomorrow.)

Summary - Spencer meets a professor and falls in love for a few hours

W/C - 2k

Warnings - none-ish? there’s a small smattering of violence and horrible changing of the tenses 

-----

Spencer can’t help the irony that he’s in a freshman college class for the first time ever while protecting one of the students. Who knew that a tiny club of DnD players could incite so much rage out of an un-sub? So here he was, trying to blend in—even though he’s 25, he still looks 14 and there’s really no real reason why he should be worried about being caught—in order to protect a freshman who was more pimple than male specimen. 

Joesph—the poor kid in question—takes a seat in the front row and Spencer’s obligated to sit within tackling distance, though he hopes it won’t come to that. Hopefully, Morgan will have the kid the un-sub goes for and Spencer can just enjoy being in college again. The painfully familiar auditorium seats, the stale air, and bad fluorescents feel more like home than he cares to admit. 

College hadn’t been all too unpleasant. High school he’d gotten picked on mercilessly. College, however, had meant getting doted on by hot sorority girls and earning the protection of frat boys—they’d picked up rather quickly that he knew football strategy better than they did after Spencer had hustled a TV and 400 dollars from them. Sure, he didn’t drink, but every single drunk teenager had welcomed him with open arms and lots of ginger ale. 

There’s chatter and for the ten minutes before class starts, Spencer is torn between trying to figure out which song is quietly playing around the room and watching for a particularly rage-filled college student serial killer. Instead, he just finds too many bored faces. Most of the kids are drinking coffee like the best of them and he’s itching for his next fix just looking at it. 

The first two rows: a terrible vantage point to be profiling, but a beautifully defensible post. He watches absently as one of the TAs, who looks a little younger than him, organizes three stacks of papers on the front desk and flips through several different pages on the podium. His attention is focused solely on you for nearly a minute too long—he can hear the voice in his head chastising him for how often he gets distracted by pretty people. 

You look of the fragile sort, the in-the-lab kind of future scientist. There’s something about you that’s captivating. It might be the way you keep reorganizing the papers to perfection or maybe it’s the way you study the room so closely. And while he thinks that you might not be able to physically stop someone, you sure look like the kind of person that could crush him in chess. 

He’s 25 and is considering chess as a marriage proposal.  

Joesph shuffles his books around in the seat in front of Spencer and you, the beautiful TA in question, hold a watch up as you move to the centre of the room. Class is starting. Class is starting and he’s hopeful the professor never actually shows up. 

He notices your watch is on your right wrist—are you left handed?—as you smile widely and clap her hands together. First day jitters seem to keep everyone silent, waiting on baited breath for you to start. Spencer would stay on baited breath for the rest of his life for you. You were utterly captivating after all—he could see the drool from several students’ mouths a few seats over. 

“This is Anthropology 101,” you announce. “If this isn’t your class, you’re free to leave. Or stay if you want. Did you guys know that anxiety disorders affect more than 40 million US adults? Or 1 in 5, I guess, if you want the easier pill to swallow.”

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat and he wants to raise his hand just to ask you to marry him. 

“Anyway,” you sigh, leaning back agains the front desk, “I spit out a lot of facts. Usually something that begins with ‘did you know’ won’t be on the tests. I try to be fair. Which brings us to ice breakers.”

The class collectively groans. You scoff. 

“Oh hush, I’m the only one doing the ice breakers so chill out. Jeez.” Spencer waits patiently for your soft breath and then your further announcement of, “I’m officially Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, but that’s like only if my boss comes in or for any emails you send. You can call me Y/N because that’s like normal. I got my doctorate in forensic anthropology a year ago and I’ve been teaching since I started grad school three years ago. You’re in safe hands, I promise.”

He almost kicks himself. You’re the professor. How many times had he been nearly kicked out of a classroom when he was in grad school for saying he was the professor? How many times had he been 18 and trying to get an ounce of respect for himself? 

You continue, waving your hands about like you could pull your ideas back down to earth. “Um—a fun fact about me is that I am not welcome in certain parts of the world for ‘violating’ what are called exhumation laws, which is silly in my opinion. I had the legal right to carry that head on the plane and—and I hope you did the reading because there’s a first day pop quiz.”

The entire class lets out one simultaneous frustrated whine that alights something almost wicked in your eyes. You wave over two students from the other end of the front row and they begin passing out test papers as you explain. 

“You’ll have a total of fifteen minutes to answer ten questions. We’ll start on my mark. If you have any trouble, give me a shout and I’ll help you out. After this, we’ll go over the syllabus and if you’re lucky, leave early.”

Spencer’s passed a test and immediately notices there’s no place for a name. Just a bolded “Student #21” at the top. Another girl raises the question and you snicker. “I like puzzles,” is the only answer you give before the time starts. 

Question four: what are the top three songs you’ve been listening to? Please list.

Question six: why are you taking this class?

A: This is a requirement

B: I heard it was easy

C: I heard the professor was hot

D: I really enjoy anthropology! (liar)

Question nine: Creationism or Evolution?

Question ten: Quickly. If you were going to have dinner, would it be with Bill or Hillary Clinton?

Spencer can’t hide the grin he’s got the entire test. It’s all ridiculous get-to-know-you questions. He can tell what merit you’re getting out of them. There’s one judging study habits, one judging religion, feminism, politics—you’ve created her own little innocuous questionnaire. Spencer was sure the students would just think you were strange, but he saw the cleverness. 

Spencer also notices that once you notice him, you don’t stop noticing him. He wonders what you see. You’re so obviously profiling him that it hurts. Do you see the FBI agent? The scholar? The doctor? The drug addict? The man in a boy’s skin?

Your timer beeps and you shout for pencils down. Your makeshift TAs are dispatched to collect the papers and you make the stacks perfect when they make it to the desk. You move to the whiteboard, a set of papers clutched in your hand, and lean against it to address the class. 

“Test go alright?” your grin is contagious and Spencer can’t help but mirror it. You glance at Spencer, turns back to the class, and tuck your hair behind your ear. You let the class chatter on for a moment, setting the papers down on the table, and readjust the undone cuffs of your white button down. He never thought that a sweater vest and jeans could look so hot. 

You smirk and check your watch one more time. “Let’s talk about tests because I know you all have questions. Everything on the test is either written on the board, on the notes, or in the study guide—if you fail after that, come to office hours. I’ve got Advil for the hangovers.”

#

Thankfully, Joesph is one of those students who has to speak to every single one of his professors. Spencer waits patiently behind the kid, trying to keep the smell from the lack of deodorant just out of range. 

He keeps a hard gaze on all of the students moving in and out of the auditorium. There’s nothing to see, just a lot of students with a lot of normal college apathy. No anger, no serial killer, no one to tackle. 

“Sometimes the BO is worse than a corpse’s expulsion of gas,” you joke from your place atop the desk. Spencer looks up, and furrows his eyebrows as his brain processes. Your face falls for a split second, but your curiosity replaces it just as quickly. Joesph’s jaw hits the floor, stumbling for some way to explain himself or maybe some half decent way to insult the pretty professor. 

Spencer laughs, probably a little more than he should have, considering he wasn’t supposed to out himself as an FBI agent. You tuck your hair behind your ear again and, for someone younger than 25, you are surprisingly wide eyed with perception and curiosity. 

“Do you like puzzles, Doctor—“

“Reid,” he supplies, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Spencer.”

You raise an eyebrow, chewing on your bottom lip in contemplation. You turn your focus back to Joesph—a boy worse at talking to those scoring higher than an 8 than Spencer was at the same age. “So, Joesph, why does the good doctor need to be within tackling distance of you?”

Joesph flounders, turns to hide his blush, and yelps like God himself has come down to kick him in the ass. Spencer takes one good look at the 18 year old girl charging towards a pimple of a boy and he launches before he can give much consideration to how much its going to hurt. 

But between the noticing and the launching, he makes a list: she’s got so much black eyeliner that Emily’s high school yearbook photos would be jealous; she’s about to inflict about a 9 on the pain scale if she’s left to her plan; there’s obviously no plan other to scratch Joesph’s eyes out; her nails are the size of tiger claws and Spencer desperately wishes he had a better pain tolerance; there’s no weapon. 

The tackle takes seconds. It’s a practised movement. Roll. Knee. Handcuffs. The girl is screaming and crying and kicking and biting. His arm’s on fire and she’s struggling enough that it’s taking more than ten seconds to get the handcuffs on. 

It’s calculated as he presses his knee harder into her back. She yelps and stills long enough that Spencer closes the handcuffs on her tiny, sliced up wrists. The cutting explains some things…

“Hence the tackling distance,” You sum up, bending down just slightly to look the killer in the face. Your nose wrinkles. “You had very distinct ideas on the cultural value of suicide.”

Spencer shakes his head, hauls the girl to her feet, and beckons for Joesph to follow. The entire world falls out of view as he manhandles the girl into an easy walk. The students step to the side to gawk, and he’s thankful for the wide berth. If someone got hurt, the paperwork alone—

“It was nice meeting you, Dr. Reid!” you call and he glances back over his shoulder. You’re waving around the stack of papers in your arms, utterly ridiculous, terribly adorable. He hopes his smile is more suave than love sick, but the fleeting flirtation is especially over when Miss Unchecked Rage kicks out as Joesph comes into her line of sight. 

Spencer throws his whole weight into keeping her down. There’s no room to fall in love after a day. Especially with someone on a college campus halfway across the country from him. There’s even less room to manoeuvre Miss Eyeliner even without Joesph waddling into her eye line every few seconds. Seriously, he thinks, how hard is it to keep behind me?

[twomoonstwosuns]

at first sight [bonus chapter]

back to you [series masterlist]

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warning: none? language?

word count: 2.5k

a/n: well im sorry this took so long to get up...we are struggling hard right now. and if you are too, know you're not alone and we’ll get through this <3 stay tuned for this same chapter but from poe’s POV

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New year, new me. You told yourself the same thing at the beginning of each school year. 

Although it was usually just said on New Year’s Eve in preparations for the brand new year, you felt it applied to starting a new semester as well: new classes, new teachers, new schedule, new routine. It was also the beginning of your senior year of college, your last first day of school ever. So in a way, you were preparing for something new. You’d graduate before you knew it and then adulthood would creep up on you. 

But you could hardly wait to see what the next two semesters would bring you in the meantime. 

You made sure to leave your apartment early to stop at your favorite coffee stand in the student center. Waving at your friend Qi’Ra behind the counter, you got yourself in line and replied to your mom and sister’s happy first day texts. 

“I knew I’d find you here.”

The familiar voice of your best friend Karé made you smile and you squealed quietly as you hugged her. She had spent the night with her boyfriend Snap after being out of town the last week before school, so you hadn’t seen her after you moved in.

“I’ve missed you! How was your vacation?”

“Awesome as usual. Weather was amazing, we spent everyday out on the water. Snap’s sunburn is finally starting to heal.”

“God yeah, you sent me that picture of his back…that looked awful.”

She nodded. “He was all ‘oh, there’s lots of clouds in the sky, it’s not going to be that bad’ and now I get to hold this over him for the rest of his life.”

You laughed as she rolled her eyes as you finally got to the counter. Qi’Ra already knew your order by heart and, like the first day of every new semester, she gave you your drink free of charge. She whipped it up right away, handing it to you with the promise of getting together soon. You and Karé walked outside, the bright sunshine making your drink sweat and the both wish you didn’t have to spend the next couple hours stuck inside. 

“So, how’s the stuff with your dad going?”

You shrugged. “If I had spoken to him at all since he walked out, I’d have something to tell you.”

Karé’s shoulders slumped. “No…seriously?”

You sighed and nodded as you stirred your drink.

“Not one word. I told you my uncle came by a few days after he left to tell us he was okay?” Karé nodded. “A couple of weeks went by and the next thing I know, he’s filing for divorce. But he hasn’t actually talked to Tallie and I.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry…”

You sighed heavily and shook your head. “It’s whatever. Nothing I can do. Haven’t talked to him since and he abandoned us for his secretary so I don’t plan on talking to him at all.”

Karé nodded slowly and reached over and squeezed your arm and you gave her a small smile of appreciation.

“Anyway…what class are you off to first?”

“My advanced math class.” You made a face and she chuckled. “Yeah, you’re not jealous at all, are you?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I get to start out my day with my half semester class…three hours, twice a week, tons of homework.”

“Fun. Who’s your professor?”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket, bringing up your schedule and looking at the details.

“Uhhh, Dameron. Heard of him?”

“I think he’s one of the newer teachers here.”

“Well, hopefully he’s good.” You took a sip of your drink and checked the time on your phone. “Guess I’ll go find out.”

“See you later, then.”

Karé gave you a quick hug and you walked in opposite directions. You walked to the building of your classroom and though you were grateful for the air conditioning, you hoped that since it was the first day you’d be let out early. The sun was out, flowers were still blooming along the sidewalks despite the late season. Fall semester was always the one you dreaded the most…stuck inside staring at four blank walls during your favorite kind of weather. 

The classroom was on the third level, which meant minimal traffic in the halls and big windows that showed a great view of campus. The blinds were open, allowing sunlight to flood into the room and making it that much more welcoming. A few students were already seated and the professor nowhere in sight but his stuff at his desk. You made your way into the room, not finding a friend yet, and walked to a seat right around the middle of the room. You took your things out and waited and scrolled through three different social media apps as more students trickled in. Your name was called and you looked up and saw a girl you worked with the previous semester and smiled as she sat down next to you. At least you kind of knew one person in the class. 

“Alright, let’s get started.”

One glance up at the source of the voice was not enough as you practically did a double take. Your professor was an extremely handsome man. Dark hair sat on top of his head in a mess of curls that laid just between styled and unruly. You could see from your seat that his eyes were dark…brown, maybe. He was young; you guessed that he couldn’t be more than thirty-five. As he came around from behind his desk, you took notice of the way his dark blue jeans fit snugly around   big thighs. His sleeves were pushed up to show off tan forearms and as he leaned back against his desk, he crossed his arms in front of his broad chest.

“Good morning, everyone.” Three simple words grabbed the attention of every girl in class. “I’m Professor Dameron. I hope you all had a great summer. I don’t know about some of you, but I am very excited to get this semester going.”

There was some polite laughter. He was using a light, friendly tone of voice, making sure his very first impression on people wouldn’t wasn’t a bad one. 

“Subject-wise, this is one of my favorite classes to teach. The only way I could get this class in this year was to teach it in half the amount of time as a normal class. I’m warning you now, this is going to be a busy class. We are fitting about fifteen weeks worth of stuff into seven weeks. Attendance is going to be very, very important.” 

Some of the students visibly gulped, others nodded slowly as the realization of how much work would have to go into this class started to sink in. “Don’t worry, I will have lots of resources to help you guys. Um, just an example…I will make all of the lectures and slides available on the portal after class, including any key notes from the textbook and discussions that come up during class. That being said, you still need to attend class. I’ll go over more of this when we go through the syllabus.”

You admired him as he spoke. The hint of smile on his face showed his excitement for the class and the new semester. His voice was smooth like honey and you were sure you could listen to him spout off the most boring stuff in the world and not tire of it.

“First things first…attendance.” He turned to grab his clipboard and you and the girl next to you both checked out his ass. “In lied of just calling your names, we’re going to do an icebreaker.”

The collection of heavy sighs made him chuckle lightly. “I know, I know…they’re not always fun and you’ll probably do a whole bunch more after today. Personally, I like to get to know my students. We’ll be spending a lot of time together this semester and the more comfortable you feel talking to me, the more open you’ll be to telling me what you need to help you succeed in this class. So, let’s do it and get it over with. Tell me your name, something fun you did over the summer, your favorite type of music and…what do you think? Favorite color? Favorite animal? “Let’s do favorite animal.”

Glancing around, you saw people look anywhere but at their teacher, hoping they wouldn’t catch his eye and make them go first. 

“Alright, come on guys, you’re acting like I’m going to pull your teeth out. I’ll go first. My name is Poe, this summer I visited my dad in Colorado where I grew up and saw friends that live on both coasts. I’m a big fan of classic rock but catch me jamming to a pop song every now and then…” That got some laughs from the class and he laughed with them. “Seriously, anything by the Weeknd.”

“The Weeknd has a lot of songs about sex,” the girl next to you whispered and you nearly choked as you took a sip out of your water bottle. 

“And my favorite animal is a dog. Alright, let’s start in the back.”

One by one students introduced themselves. He asked questions about their summer jobs and their summer vacations, genuinely interested in the details and making them feel comfortable talking to him. A couple of people named weird animals as their favorite, such as lizards and dinosaurs, that spurred further discussions and got the class completely off track. It was all fun and games until you got to your row and you counted how many people were before you and practiced what you would say in your head.

“Okay, um, I’m Y/N…” Poe looked at the attendance list, finding your name and marking you down in attendance. “I didn’t do anything super special over the summer, just worked my two jobs and went to the cabin with friends and family. I like pretty much any kind of music, as long as it’s got a good beat I don’t really care what genre it is…though I am a sucker for pop music sometimes. And my favorite animal is an elephant.”

Poe cracked a smile and you let out a quiet sigh of relief as the girl next to you introduced herself. As social as you were, you still hated speaking in front of a classroom full of people. 

“Okay, see? That wasn’t so bad.” Poe teased as the last person finished speaking. A few people laughed and you smiled. Almost an hour into class and you already knew this would be one of the classes you’d look forward to the most. “Let’s start going over the syllabus. I’ll have you pass these down and I’ll bring it up on the screen here…”

He handed a stack of papers to a student in the front row and they started passing them down. Poe went back around his desk and connected his laptop to the projector. The desktop image of a Corgi laying in the grass with a toy appeared and you along with half the girls in the class let out not subtle aww’s.

“That’s my dog, Beebs.” Poe smiled sheepishly when he noticed the screen had popped up.

“How old is he?” One of the girls from the back asked. 

“He’s probably three, three and a half…I rescued him as a puppy so I’m not too sure.”

More aww’s filled the room as he brought the syllabus up onto the screen. You grabbed one when it reached you and passed it along and a quick glance through the five pages showed the class schedule and detailed expectations. When everyone had a copy, he started going over it, talking about the schedule in extreme detail and laying out what a typical class day would look like.

Poe finished up the syllabus and gave you a fifteen minute break before diving into the first chapter. His teaching style was the dream, the way that every teacher should teach: not too fast, not too slow, answering every single question before moving on, and making sure everyone was keeping up. 

Despite it being a three hour class, you no longer dreaded it…you knew that Poe would do as much as he could to help you all succeed. 

“Alright, homework for Thursday: chapter two, print out the study guide and start working on it. We’ll finish our chapter one discussion then as well. You’re good to go.”

You gathered up your things, shoving them into your backpack and checking the time to see you had just enough to grab something to eat before your next class. You had just reached the top of the stairs when you realized you hadn’t put your water bottle into your backpack. Letting out an annoyed groan, you doubled back up the stairs towards your classroom. You snuck in past a couple of students that were just leaving and beelined for your desk, making Poe look up at you.

“Sorry, forgot my water bottle.”

You found it tucked under your seat and grabbed it, giving him a small smile as you passed to head back out the door. 

“Why elephant?”

Looking back at him, you saw an easy smile on his face. “Sorry?”

“You said your favorite animal was an elephant. Usually it’s household pets or animals that live in the forest…or apparently lizards and t-rex’s. Why elephant?”

You shrugged with a nervous smile. “I, um…I don’t know. I just think they’re beautiful and strong and they roll around in the mud and water and act like such babies…baby elephants actually suck on their trunks like babies suck on their fingers—“

“Do they?” You blushed hard, feeling like you just made a fool of yourself. “So you don’t just think they’re cute…you’re practically an expert on them?”

His tone wasn’t teasing like you expected, but instead curious at the knowledge you shared. 

“No, I actually saw that on one of those random Facebook videos.”

A heartfelt laugh erupted from his chest and you laughed with him. 

“I know what you’re talking about,” he said as he continued packing up his bag. “They’re those videos that are on random pages you liked years ago or from a news source…I’ve actually found some good recipes from them.”

“So you know. Random but good information.”

He nodded and you felt your phone buzz in your hand. You looked down at it and saw a message and noticed the time. 

“I should go, um I have class…I’ll see you around, Mr. Dameron.”

You gave him a small wave and internally cringed at yourself as you headed towards the door, the flush of embarrassment in your face.

It was going to be an interesting semester. 

tag list [closed] - @ah-callie @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @milleniawrites @afootnoteinyourhappiness @easterncryptid @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @umchrisevans @galaxy-of-stories @seeking-a-great--perhaps @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @dameronsgalaxygal @mserynlarsen @yougottakeeponkeepinon @linibirdimagine @hannie2k @starrykitn @cloud-leader @damnyoudameron @liadamerondjarin @april-14-blog @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @xremember-me-notx @obiwanownsmyass @princessxkenobi @yourbucky084 @frietiemeloen @softly-sad @xxidontwikeitxx @roserrys @clairesmunchkin @justanotherblonde23 @voidmonny @neaveloren @sergeantkane

[doublekrecs]

Can you do a teacher!!!Harry x student reader please. I think it’ll be hot

a/n: gonna try making this one a blurb. also no explicit smut but harry has a naughty mouth. as always enjoy! 

going into college was a new experience. your first year was mostly spent in the library avoiding parties and distractions. you were by no means quiet, having spent high school at every party after friday night football games. you decided this was your time to settle down a bit and take the first year to decide on what you really wanted to do. 

while you had decided computer engineering was your destined career path, you had picked a music appreciation class on whim to try something new. it wasn’t bad most of the time listening to older composers and analyzing the style differences, or brief essays on the deeper meanings of songs.

however the best part of class was professor styles. an absolutely gorgeous man with the softest looking hair you’d love to run your hands through and a  voice you could listen to for days.

the first week of school he kept it simple, the usual ‘get to know the teacher’ slideshow and syllabus days. he showed pictures of his family and of trips he’s taken with his friends. one that stuck out to you and most of your peers was the one of him at the beach. tattoos littered his toned, tan chest and arms, if you looked a little lower you could almost make out his not so little friend. and if you were being honest this was the go to image going through your head as you had your nightly de-stressing session.

as always you walked into class with your bag on your shoulder and water bottle in hand, the smell of his lemon scented candle flooding your senses. you took a seat close to the front to be able to get a decent view of the board, setting your stuff on the floor when you see a pair of brown boots enter your line of sight.

it was no other than professor styles himself holding a stack of papers in his hand, “miss y/l/n” he with that accent you loved so much. you look up to see him with a friendly smile on his face which you return, taking a glance up at his eyes. you’ve never had a chance to see how pretty his pale green eyes were.

he clears his throat, catching your obvious ogling but choosing not to say anything, “um well i wanted to ask if you would stay after class, your recent paper on..”

you had completely zoned out and you truly did feel bad but you were having a hard time concentrating when his rose colored lips were moving so nicely in front of you, so close yet so far. you wondered how nice they would feel wrapped around-

“y/n” his voice snapped you out of your reverie.

“hm im sorry professor, could you say it again”

“would ya mind stayin after class a little to discuss your paper”, he said a coy smirk appearing on his face.

“oh of course”

he nods before turning around to make his way back to the front of the class. when had so many people shown up?

the hour and a half passed by easily. jotting down whatever notes you could when you weren’t picturing your professor on top of you, sweat making a stray curl stick to his forehead. 

“well thats it for today”, he said as he went to pull out the chair at his desk. “have a good weekend and make sure to start plannin for your essays when we get back. y/l/n come see me please”

you swear your hearts about to burst out of your chest at the thought of spending just a little time alone with him. you walk down the stairs as you watch him get comfortable. legs spread behind the desk, just so inviting for you to sit in.

“you wanted to talk about my essay professor styles?” you ask as you play with the little keychain on your bag

“i did, it’was actually quite good. but somethin always has you distracted durin class and i think i jus found out what it is,” he said face serious almost angry looking

shit. you thought, he was onto you and you were gonna get expelled for inappropriate behavior towards you teacher. 

or so you thought until he kept speaking. 

the same smirk from earlier reappearing on his face. “you have a thing for me? isn’t that right. you walk into class and spend the time day dreaming about me making you suck my cock under the desk.” 

you stood there not moving a muscle. your brain must be short circuiting because he did not just say that.

“or maybe ya want me to bend you over it. maybe throw all my papers on the floor and have ya spread out for me makin a mess all on for me. you’d like that wouldn’t you petal”

you let out a whine at his words. thighs clenching at the thought of all your fantasies coming true. you swore you could feel your arousal dripping down the insides of your thighs. 

he got up from desk, taking his time to make the few steps over to where you were standing. looking down at your lips then back up into your eyes he continued.

“now be good for me and let me make these come true hm petal?”

and boy did he surpass all your expectations. 

[anika-ann]

Attached: Words Lost in Translation Pt.1

Type: (mini)-series,  Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 4200

Summary: There’s a new guy in your history class – a foreign student from Milan, Italy. Handsome, nice enough, pretty smart, actually.

But dammit, you should have known that a guy complimenting the way you say his name will be trouble – Bucky certainly thinks so from the start… and he’s not wrong. Oh boy.

A/N: Attached: Words Lost in Translation is a 3-part addition to the Attached series.

A/N: Many thanks to my lord and saviour @chase-your-dreams-away​ for her help with Italian bits which you’ll find in the fic :-* Seriously, big shout-out for her, she was awesome! Vocabulary at the end if you’re interested.

And many thanks to @wxstedhexrt​ for sending me the link and putting the plot bunny into my head in the first place :-* 

Warnings: smug insistent jerk, harassment(?), swearing, one remark about LBGT+ that could feel insensitive

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

“Uhm… hi. Can I sit here? And uh—this is kinda ridiculous, but could I borrow a pen?”

A very much handsome young man was standing by your seat in the second row, week two of your first semester of master’s at uni, deep brown eyes, naturally tanned skin, relatively tall, his smile a fraction shy but honest.

What else could you have done that what you did?

Even if he wasn’t a relatively cute guy – mind you, you were dating Steve, very happily needless to say – you had no reason to be a bitch to a guy with slight accent you weren’t sure where to place, to a guy who was apparently a tiny bit lost on his first day at Bucky’s class.

“Yeah, sure. Seat all yours,” you smiled encouragingly, sliding him an extra pen on surface of the desk.

His smile widened brilliantly, exposing a set of perfectly narrow and white teeth. A twinkle appeared in his eye and you caught your heart skipping a beat.

Oh. Ah-oh.

“Thank you so much. Something tells me that the prof wouldn’t appreciate me missing the first class of his and not taking notes on the second,” your mystery student grimaced and you chuckled, unable to help yourself.

First of all, yeah, kinda on point.

Second of all, not on point at all, because the said prof was Professor James Barnes. Bucky had a relatively benevolent policy when it came to his classes – yes, he appreciated when his students were paying attention, interacting even, but as long as you weren’t an ass or weren’t making noise (or both), you were fine.

You said so to your new classmate and he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good to know… but you know what would be even better?” he asked, cocking his head to side curiously – or teasingly, it was hard to tell.

“Oh, what? I guess you need the syllabus too, right? I can-“

A low chuckle erupted from his throat, his eyes glimmering with amusement as his gaze gave you a not-exactly-subtle once-over you weren’t sure how you felt about.

Except you knew exactly how you felt about it, you just knew you shouldn’t feel that way.

“That would probably come in handy too, but I’d rather know the name of my lovely saviour with a pretty smile.”

You found yourself lowering your gaze, heat rising to your cheeks.

Here was a thing – this was most flirting you got in like a year. You adored Steve, you truly did, from the bottom of your heart, he was a dream come true… however, the fact that you two were dating was clear to everyone.

And by everyone, you really meant everyone; considering the scene at your bachelor graduation and the mess around, it appeared that the whole damn city accepted the fact that you were Steve’s and thus no one even considered stepping on his toes.

Which was alright, absolutely, but… girl’s got needs, her ego craves a boost from time to time, even if it’s an appreciative glance from a stranger. Just a teeny-tiny bit of flirting.

No one ever flirted with you anymore.

It was why it was way too easy to fall into the sweet trap as you introduced yourself, lifting you gaze only to see your companion wearing a lop-sided smile. He most definitely liked what he saw.

“Sweet name for a sweet girl. I’m Daniel. I’m here for two semesters. And before you ask, it’s Milano, Italy,” he added quickly with a flash of his teeth again, holding out his hand – and upon having it accepted, he most certainly held it too long and swept his thumb over the back of your hand.

Which was the point when your head started yelling at you to stop this in an instant and draw a line. Yes, it felt amazing to be complimented to, but you had a boyfriend – a fucking dreamy one, no less – and you sure as hell didn’t want to give Daniel (how was his name pronounced again?) the wrong impression.

You retreated your hand with your smile turning tight-lipped, a cold pang of guilt stabbing you in your gut. Served you right.

“Nice to meet you, Daniel,” you said politely, and his expression shifted into one just a fraction patronizing.

“Da-ni­-el. Kinda soft ‘i’. Daniel. You’ll get a hang of it, I’m sure. Once more, please?”

Well, since he said please. “Da-ni-el,” you repeated more from a common curtesy, because honestly, the least you could do was to try to pronounce a name right for a handsome classmate.

Shush it, it doesn’t matter if he’s handsome or not!

Daniel smiled widely, turning his palms up and gesturing towards you. “Perfetto. Amazing. You’re a natural.”

Before you could say thanks, Bucky entered the class and you felt the stab in your insides intensify as his eyes found you unmistakably, as if he had witnessed our interaction with the Italian and was telling you he’d rat you out to Steve if you didn’t stop right now.

Ridiculous – there was nothing to talk about. You were just being nice to the friendly stranger who happened to be in your class and whom you’d be meeting for at least a semester. That was all.

Except you still felt your heart pounding furiously, equally because of the feeling of getting caught doing something wrong and because of enjoying the attention. Fuck.

Okay, fine. You’d tell Steve about this guy on your own as a precaution. It would at least remind you to keep yourself in check, because honestly, you had no desire to get tangled up in some mess. You had no desire to taint the beautiful thing you had with Steve with anything at all, less so for a fling.

Content with yourself, you forced yourself to listen to Bucky’s lecture, taking notes like you were supposed to, determined to ignore Daniel’s presence.

Except Daniel interrupted him twice with questions and remarks about accuracy, drawing attention of the whole class to him and you felt hot in your face for a whole different reason than before – simply hating that someone sitting next to you was, frankly, quickly getting annoying.

And God, you had no idea how much.

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Daniel Gallo was a relatively nice guy –social perhaps a little too much, but cute and open, easy to be friends with.

However, he had one fatal flaw, one you discovered very early on; he was the smuggest asshole you had ever met.

Perhaps it was his need to correct Bucky all the time – mostly failing, because Bucky knew his shit, he was just sparing you the tinniest details, leaving them for you to find in text books.

Maybe it was the fact that Daniel hadn’t given you the pen back, not even asking if he could keep it for the day, which you’d understand despite being protective of your pens; except he carried it around for two weeks, using it in front of you, returning it only upon your curious and slightly sarcastic comment about it.

Most definitely though, it was the fact that he was unbearably insistent on flirting with you – shamelessly – even after you grew so uncomfortable that you blatantly told him you had a boyfriend. He smirked, but backed off for the day, only to continue his advances the next week.

And then Jill, a girl from your year and a sort-of-friend, actually told you that he mentioned you in front of her, saying that you were two growing rather close, if she knew what he meant, and she admitted that she snorted into her latté when hearing it.

“What? What is it?” he had asked.

“I sincerely doubt that,” she claimed she had said, causing him to frown.

“Why? She gay? I don’t think so, I can tell this kind of stuff.”

“No. She’s taken. Very happily, I might add. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Nah. We’ll see about that,” he had replied supposedly and learning that felt like a punch to your stomach, causing you to see red.

You showed him ignorance incarnate the next week, but he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

And then even Bucky noticed and kept casting dirty glares at you both as if you had done the worst crime.

To be honest, after that you did feel dirty; but you didn’t want to make a fuss.

In fact, you hadn’t even told Steve about Daniel besides informing him about the existence of a foreign student in your class.

Partly, shame was to blamed, because you kept wondering if you had done enough; perhaps you should have been more radical, sterner with Daniel to make him stop.

The other part of the reason was that Steve was under tons of pressure because of his academic duties; all professors had to publish an article in a prestige journals dedicated to their area of expertise at least once in two years – university policy – and working on that while teaching several classes was simply taking its toll on him. You really didn’t want to add to his stress.

It wasn’t even a big deal – Daniel was overly social and he probably said shit like the stuff you learned from Jill about other girls too. What was the golden rule? When there’s nothing broken, don’t fix it.

There was nothing. No problem at all.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Except there was.

That morning, you were zoned out, because Steve snapped at you for not doing the dishes and didn’t bother to apologize till you left the apartment in a foul mood. Then he went to shower you with texts full of apologies, gradually growing into pure cutesy (involving a picture of his puppy eyes) and gifs and stuff and you ended up spending the majority of Bucky’s lecture on your phone.

By Bucky’s policy, that was perfectly okay, because he couldn’t care less if you were smiling like a loon into your phone – hell, if he noticed, he was probably glad, knowing shit had rained down and was now being fixed.

At the end of the class, Daniel graciously offered you his neat notes – and really, they looked amazing –, surprising you rather pleasantly.

“Oh… that’s… that’s very kind of you,” you stuttered, almost rendered speechless. Perhaps you truly were just making a big deal of things, seeing something that wasn’t-

“Anything for my principessa.“

The cloud that had been following you since you left the apartment made its comeback in a second, so fast that you actually felt your stomach drop to your feet.

Oh no, you were not imagining things – after all, Daniel even had a term of fucking endearment for you. And you might not be speaking Italian, but you understood that just fine.

“Perhaps one day she’ll repay me with a dinner date,” he continued with a supposedly charming smile, one you found disgusting at the moment.

You opened your mouth and swiftly closed it when no sound came out, scoffing at your naivety. Of course he wouldn’t give them for free, jackass. You shook your head with a wry smile and packed your untouched pencil case and papers, rising to your feet without another word.

A hand on your wrist stopped you from spinning on your heel and walking away.

“Aspetta, aspetta-” an all-to-familiar voice now whispered as you grinded your teeth and glared at the point of contact, skin on skin. He squeezed your wrist almost gently before letting go. “Wait. Here. Just… take a picture, okay? Where would we be if weren’t nice from time to time…”

You really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction… but you could really use his notes too.

Dammit shit.

“Thank you,” you uttered, obediently taking a photo of the three pages of ridiculously perfect notes. Then, you met his gaze, face torn between stern and grateful. “Just… a reminder: I have a boyfriend.”

Slow smile spread on his lips and in that moment, you wanted to punch him in those perfect teeth of his. “Doesn’t stand in the way of admiring your beauty, does it, la mia ragazza…”

You had no clue what he said, but the la mia hinted you that he called you something his and that sent a surge of white-hot anger through your veins, mixing with humiliation. Your hand actually curled up in a fist, twitching – but instead of giving your piling anger an outlet, you took a deep breath, huffed and stalked away without a word of goodbye.

“See you next week!” Daniel called after you and you gripped the strap of your backpack tighter, squeezing your eyes shut.

That night, you got next to zero sleep, watching Steve’s passed-out form with tears in your eyes.

It was ridiculous, it was nothing and you were doing nothing wrong-- but you couldn’t make yourself to cuddle to Steve’s side despite desperately needing his wordless affirmation that everything was alright.

Just a simple embrace of his was like a promise of a brighter future. With him.

Chuckling wryly into your palm, you wiped at your tears and snuggled to Steve, causing him to stir and hum, his arm circling around you on instinct, a barely-there sloppy kiss to your hair chasing more tears into your eyes along with a watery smile gracing your lips.

Yeah. Everything was going to be fine.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Nothing was fine.

Daniel was getting handsy if you could call it that. His thigh brushed yours multiple times the next class as he was sitting uncomfortably close and no amount of subtle pushing away (of you and your chair) was helping, so no, there could have been nothing coincidental about that.

You dug your nails into your palm and bit your cheek, but survived the lesson somehow.

Bucky called for you at the end of the class, saving you further interaction with that Italian Satan, allowing you to breathe freely until he addressed the very problem your head was occupied with.

Bucky didn’t like Daniel’s attitude to begin with – which wasn’t surprising, seeing as he was being a prick – but he liked the fact Daniel seemed to be awfully close to you even less if his tone was anything to go by and his eyes screamed accusations and you fucking hated yourself, feeling the tell-tale of incoming tears burning in your eyes.

“I can talk to him, you know. Tell him to back off,” he offered then though, the grey with blue threads of his irises warming when he noticed your state.

The pressure in your gut eased upon learning Steve’s best friend didn’t only blame you and apparently wanted to help rather than presenting you with ‘you made your bed you lie in it’ attitude.

You even charmed a small smile for him, determined to do justice to your word: “Thank you… it’s fine. I’ll deal with him. I can handle one guy who doesn’t take no for an answer.”

And sure you could.

Daniel hugged you goodbye the next class, saying he was planning a get-away with his new friends for a weekend and it might be dangerous – fucking absurd.

With your heart in your throat, you quickly patted his back and twisted from his arms, feeling dirty.

“No kiss for good luck?” he teased, that annoying smug smile on his face and you had to remind yourself that punching him was a terrible idea seeing as you were already walking a fine line dating a professor – who happened to be the best friend of one of your professors.

You didn’t need any problems – and for some reason, you were certain Daniel would make a big fucking deal of it. So no punching it was.

Your resolve crumbled to nothing when a sudden kiss landed on your cheek, the sensation cold like a kiss of the death itself.

Before you could as much as catch your breath which got knocked out of your lungs and not in the good way, your blood pressure skyrocketing along with your pulse to a point where your head began spinning… he was gone.

You gulped, eyes fluttering shut as the world seemed to sway from its place and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand grasped your arm.

“Daniel, go fuck yourself-“ you snapped and glared at him- only to meet Bucky’s angry and very much concerned gaze.

“Too bad you didn’t say that about thirty seconds ago. You alright?” the brunet asked you, grip firm yet gentle as he steadied your shaky stance.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, a little strangled noise. “And I am gonna tell him exactly this the next time I see him.”

“Not good enough for me. You’re not stupid, I know you’re not. But I’m not either,” he remarked, expression gravel. His tone hardened, unlike his eyes that studied you thoroughly, examining your face as if searching for something. “You think I didn’t notice the change of your wardrobe?”

An icy-cold shiver ran an up your spine, causing all your muscles to stiffen.

Fuck. He noticed.

You supposed it wasn’t too hard to see and it was only natural that he kept an eye on you as on his best friend’s girlfriend. Yes, your Tuesday’s outfits suddenly somehow lacked skirts and anything with a deeper neckline than a turtle-neck, simply in hopes to turn Daniel off or at least not to pluck up his interest further; an action that had taken zero effect.

But being called out like this? That stung. It hurt your pride and it hurt by its very nature, because it reminded you how pathetic you were, unable to get rid of a jerk who didn’t take no for an answer – in a public space, with witnesses for god’s sake. It made you feel weak and incompetent.

So you looked Professor Barnes dead in the eye, your lips a thin line, your voice cold as you spoke the only words that made sense at that time:

“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

So what if you stuttered? So what if his brows furrowed with what was a damn patronizing worry? You didn’t care as you gathered your stuff without another word exchanged.

You made a mental note to wear your favourite outfit the next week, forgoing pants and turtle-necks, because you could fucking take care of yourself.

Penny encouraged you, clearly having faith in you too, but she also gently reminded you that you could report him.

As if. Brining more attention to your person was the last thing you needed.

You could do this on your own, thank you very much.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

For all your bravado, you asked a girl you barely knew by name if you could sit next to her and nearly cried when she said yes and another girl seated herself to your other side within two minutes. You even smiled for yourself contentedly, seeing a dawn of a new age.

And then Daniel fucking Gallo walked in and charmed his way to the seat next to you anyway, somehow managing to scare off your original saviour as well.

Well, too bad for him; you had your confidence back along with your outfit that suited you much better and you were going to tell that jerk to fuck off, just like you promised to Bucky and yourself.

“You thought I wasn’t coming today, la mia bella ragazza? I couldn’t bear not seeing you…” he started off again and you eyed him head to toe, causing a smile spread on his face. You had found that smile cute once, the kind of smile you would let a person get away with murder for.

Now it was making you want to commit murder.

“I was hoping actually.”

“Oh, sassy today, are we? What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? He had the audacity to-

You can’t punch him, you can’t punch him, think of the bureaucracy and your future…

What about my satisfaction?

Zip it!

You took a deep breath and watched that asshole take a seat next to you, automatically shuffling his chair closer.

“Daniel, look-“

“Zitta, zitta…” he interrupted you softly, but the manner he spoke with only pissed you off further. Fuck Italian.

“I don’t know what that means and frankly, I don’t care. I’m taken. I said so, several times. So back off,” you hissed, watching your volume despite the prof not being in yet – you didn’t need a scene. You were disgustingly certain Daniel had brought enough attention to you already – in fact, you were shocked Steve hadn’t learned about this yahoo yet with how quickly gossip spread on this university.

And that Bucky hadn’t told him-- God, you hoped Bucky wasn’t saving it for today’s boys night-

To your utter shock and annoyance, Daniel didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, smiling widely as if amused at your antics. “Am I putting doubts in that bella testolina of yours?”

Your blood boiled at such implication… and maybe there was a thin flow of steam coming from your ears too? Because you couldn’t fucking believe this guy, implying such thing-

--okay, you weren’t sure what exactly he said, honestly, but you understood just enough. No doubts. You were perfectly sure he was an asshole you wanted to have nothing to do with.

“No! No way! Jesus- okay. Let’s be clear. Was... this,” you gestured between the two of you in self-explanatory manner, “flattering at first? Yes. But seriously, now you’re just making me uncomfortable.”

As if appealing to his conscience would work…

“Then give in. Just one little dinner,” he insisted, showing a small space between his thumb and forefinger, grinning as if he hadn’t been listening to you at all. “What could it hurt? Who knows, maybe I’ll show you a real good time and you’ll forget all about some boring boyfriend of yours… who I’m not sure he exists actually-“

You inhaled sharply, wheezing in fact, heat of righteous anger flooding your whole body. That fucker-!

“Oh for fuck’s sake-“

You can’t punch him. You. Can. Not. Punch. Him.

You repeated those words to yourself like a magical mantra that was losing its effect, because there was nothing you wanted more. Maybe except for Steve punching him, that would be quite a show… but it was not an option.

For one, Steve, thank heavens, still didn’t know about Daniel’s unwanted advances and for two, chances were that he would show a little less restraint and you wouldn’t blame him one bit. But it would bring a whole new set of trouble, so you had to deal with this alien of a man on your own.

And right now, staring into that stupidly smug face of his, you only saw one possible solution.

“Okay, fine.”

You almost slapped your hand over your mouth as soon as the words left your lips, numbing horror overwhelming your body.

What the fuck did you just do?!

“Yes!” Daniel whisper-yelled, pumping his fist and you noticed that the class was gradually falling silent, probably with Bucky’s approach – but there was still enough chatter going on for you to save the situation somehow.

“-but you have to earn it,” you added in an equally hushed tone.

He cocked his eyebrow, as if smelling your fear that arrived instantly after the rash decision he provoked from you. “I won’t back out from a challenge, bellezza.”

Yeah, I friggin’ bet.

Your mind was racing hundred miles an hour, choosing to ignore the whatever-it-meant petname in favour of the crisis at hand.

“How about… you ask the professor a question-“ Oh Bucky was going to have your head on a stick for that, but hey, he had offered to help you- “-and if he answers wrong, I’ll go to one dinner with you, tonight.”

…that would be alright, right? Just to get rid of him. One dinner so he would get the clue at last. You’d be a hateful bitch, possibly embarrassing him, doing just about anything for him to finally stop making your life a living hell.

Yeah, looking back at the product of your frantic brain, it had been an excellent thinking actually. Go impulsive me!

Hell, tonight was perfect for it, with Steve having a night off with Bucky and you originally planning on studying with Penny. You would tell Steve after, explaining everything—or maybe before? Bucky was your witness that you weren’t exactly an enthusiastic participant in this, surely he would help you explain and would be able to distract Steve-

But really, that was all theoretical, because Daniel would have to catch Bucky off guard first, which was very unlikely. Bucky knew his subject through and through and Daniel’s chances were extremely low anyway.

“Easy-peasy,” Daniel grinned confidently, making you internally roll your eyes at his overconfident ass.

Or perhaps you had let your annoyance show for real? You couldn’t tell anymore, the adrenaline rush in your veins making certain things too sharp and other dull. For instance, you registered Daniel’s eyes flickering towards the teacher’s stand, his already wide smile growing enough to nearly tear his mouth.

“Even easier when we have a substitute.”

“What,” you blurted out, head snapping to the professor at the front.

A flash of blond hair and a shade darker beard. Broad shoulders. Blue eyes of which you simply knew they had a glint of green in them.

Your heart positively stopped in your chest, your lips parting in mute horror.

“Oh shit.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Vocabulary: Perfetto - perfect Principessa – princess Aspetta – wait La mia (bella) ragazza – my (pretty) girl Zitta – shh Bella testolina – pretty head

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 2

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Eh, I swear the first idea was giving off less of a harassment vibe. But it gets better, I promise ;)

I apologize to Italians if you find this offensive, but it was in fact not my intention at all for Daniel to be a representation of a whole nation. I figured there are insistent jerks all over the globe. (And I happened to have an Italian real-life template, not gonna lie.)

[muwur]

haikyuu x otome: rules | masterlist | prologue

a/n: 1st post of this haikyuu x otome series! might drop hints about meeting other characters or interactions with them throughout each story, but i won’t elaborate too much bc that’ll b for another post specifically about them ;)

You chose:

❥ Start game with:

» gn reader

» 1.1k words 

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It was only the first day of class and already you could feel exhaustion seeping into your muscles. Although you had fun, perhaps touring the city as much as you could in 5 days wasn’t the best idea. After you finished unpacking, which only took up a day thanks to the help of your neighbors, Yamaguchi had offered to show you his and Tsukishima’s favorite city sights. You couldn’t just say no when presented the chance to explore your new home, get closer to your new friends, and maybe see Tsukishima loosen up a little. Apparently there was a lot to see because each night you three came back to the townhouse past midnight, and after parting ways, you had only enough energy to plop into bed, outside clothes still on, and pass out until morning. Then the cycle repeated. 

You were lucky that in both your lectures so far, the professor simply introduced themselves, went over the syllabus, and dismissed class early. You took a mental note to be more strategic about exiting unless you wanted to fight your way through a sea of students after every class, but for now you were just relieved to be outside the stuffy classroom. 

Still unfamiliar with campus, you wandered until you found yourself seated on a wooden bench within a community garden. Grateful you had found a relaxing space to rest before your final class of the day, you took out last night’s leftover pasta from the Italian restaurant you visited and dipped a fork into your lunch.

Mid-chew, a soft mewl caught your ear. You gulped and took a glance around your surroundings. Eyes narrowing in confusion, you wondered, ‘Maybe I’m just hearing things?’

But then you heard it again, slightly louder. Curious, you set down your tupperware and stood up to investigate. You searched the enclosure, kneeling down to the ground every so often to scan the bushes for any signs of a potential furry friend. Still nothing. With a sigh, you got back onto your feet and brushed the dirt off your pants.‘Maybe they went away.’

However, you noticed a small wooden shed, presumably a garden supply closet, standing right outside the enclosure. You approached it cautiously. If there happened to be an animal nearby, the last thing you wanted to do was scare them away. 

You stopped in your tracks when you heard a soft chuckle. 

“Hey, there, little guy,” a mysterious voice spoke soothingly. “How’s it going?”

On the other side, a boy with light brown hair sat cross-legged with his back against the wooden toolshed. The back of his outstretched hand gingerly pet a grey tabby, who purred and rubbed its cheeks against his fingers. His chocolate gaze glimmered with amusement when the cat started playfully batting at a red keychain dangling from his backpack.

The cat climbed onto him. Leaping across his lap, its fluffy tail brushed against the male’s slightly open mouth. His face scrunched in disgust, and he sputtered in attempts to spit out stray strands of fur that stuck to his tongue. He wiped an arm across his mouth as an extra measure. 

“Ugh, give me a warning next time, okay?” he chided, scratching the cat behind its ears.  

You couldn’t stifle a soft snicker. Caught off guard, the boy stiffened and the cat dashed away, disappearing behind the opposite side of the shed.

Embarrassed and guilty for eavesdropping, you raised your hands in front of your face and spoke frantically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt or scare your friend!”

‘Great, now you just look like a creep!’ you thought self-consciously as you took a sudden step back. A yelp escaped your throat when you felt the heel of your feet stoop lower than expected, and you stumbled back.

Though you braced yourself for impact, a quick tug of your arm catapulted you into the boy’s chest. He stepped back and placed his hands on your shoulders in an effort to regain balance. You stood in front of him, a mixture of shock and mortification evident on your red, open-mouthed face. He breathed out in exasperated relief, releasing the rush adrenaline pent up from the last several seconds. Finally settling his gaze on you, a faint rosy tinge dusted his cheeks and he released your shoulders. 

He cleared his throat with a fist to his lips. “Ah, geez, watch where you’re going,” he chastised, pointing at the gaping indent in the grass behind you. “That hole’s a bit too big to go unnoticed.”

Your mind blanked. How humiliating was it to be caught staring then almost fall on your dumb ass if it wasn’t for this person’s mad reflexes.

Unable to think clearly, your words tumbled out. “Oh, hah, I guess you’re right! And, uh, thank you for catching me, by the way! You moved really fast, I was surprised, ahaha but really, I appreciate it! Especially after I was kinda standing here like a creep, you know, but it’s not like that..! I swear I don’t have stalker-ish tendencies, I was just having lunch and I thought I heard a cat and wanted to check it out, so I came here and found you, and uh, yeah!”

Heart racing in the midst of awkward silence, your eyes darted around and sought refuge upon the aging bark of a nearby tree. You would give anything to grab a shovel from the toolshed and dig yourself a hole, saying a friendly goodbye to the boy before you buried yourself alive in the dirt.

“You could’ve just said hi in the beginning, you know,” he responded with an amused, arched brow. Extending his hand, he said, “Morisuke Yaku. I go by Yaku. Nice to meet you, uh...”

“Y/n!” you blurted out, relief overwhelming your senses. “I-I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you, too,” you shook his hand, hoping he’d ignore the nervous warmth of your palm. “Sorry again for scaring away the cat.”

He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Natsu always comes back. I usually come by around this time to give her some food.”

Kneeling down to look inside his pack, he pulled out a can of wet cat food. The mere pop of the can was enough for the grey tabby to come bounding back excitedly. Yaku smiled and set the food on the ground, giving Natsu a gentle stroke along her back. Glancing up at you, he offered, “Do you want to pet her? She’s really friendly.”

Your eyes lit up in pleasant surprise as you nodded. “Sure!”

[nandolonso]

SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS (John Wick X Reader)

("TEACHER" X STUDENT COLLEGE AU)

Pairing: John Wick x Reader (AU - ish?)

Summary: John Wick lives a different life before his "retirement". He becomes a sort of vigilante, who is taking out the bad guys. His next goal is to catch a drug dealer who mainly distributes in Y/N's college. However, after meeting Y/N, not only Y/N's life turn upside down but also John's.

Word count: 8281

Warnings: ugh, so many. But it's John Wick, so... blood, swearing, college, anxiety, panic attacks, loneliness, shyness, angst, slow-burn, age gap, smut, DIRTY SMUT, fluff. 

ALSO, IM NOT A NATIVE SPEAKER OF ENGLISH SO PLEASE FORGIVE MY MISTAKES!

Author’s note: GUYS!! I've found this fanfic deep down in my-never-posted-writings and I was re-reading it when I thought, this is just utter shit, let me post that (lol), I hate myself. 😂 I was cringing at some part, but I managed to write them over, so it is a little bit bearable. I don't know if you'll like it, but I hope you do. I wanted to post something to cheer you up in this hard time. I wish the best for all of you. ♥️ The inspiration came from some many places, but mostly from "calling teachers by their first name" videos. You'll see why I got the idea from it... After that, I've given some thought about "fake" teacher John and gosh... let me tell you, it got me hot and bothered. Also inspired by 21/22 Jump Street. Please, please, leave some feedback.

P.S.: Sadly, I don't know any Italian, so thank you for Google Translation for "sponsoring" this fic lmao.

*

This was your very last year of college. More specifically, your last semester. Thank God. You could not be happier as you thought about it. Even though you enjoyed studying, you were overwhelmed with your lectures as you were a maximalist and wanted to give 100% in everything. You enjoyed learning and finding new topics but the assignments, the presentations, and the exams stressed you out incredibly. You did not apply for any further study at least at the moment as you wanted to rest a little bit and work somewhere till you find out what you really wanted to achieve in life. 

The first week went by quite easily, as the teachers mostly talked about the syllabus and what you can expect from the rest of the semester. Thankfully, everyone seemed kind of nice except your Italian teacher and his lesson, which you took up as an optional course in the first place since you wanted to earn some extra credits. Now, it seemed like a bad decision. The teacher was old, who did not enjoy his teaching at all. It was difficult to follow and boring, not to mention that he continually talked in Italian even though it was a beginner's course. When the others tried to tell him, he became mad and gave out even more assignments for next week.

So now, that you were sitting in class and waited for him the nervousness which you felt was understandable. You were chatting with one of your classmates who sat behind you. You could not say that you had any friends. You were mostly alone in your whole life, which sometimes was a curse, while other times it was a blessing. You opened up for so many people who disappointed you and let you down that this was the safest way of living your life now. Just talk to someone if necessary, otherwise living your life as you wish. Sometimes it was really depressing as there was basically no one to talk to, you could not share any interest with someone, not your desires, your goals, nothing. Even when you did, you became the focus of mockery.

Suddenly everyone became silent as most certainly, the teacher approached into the room. However, when you turned around your last week's grumpy teacher was nowhere to be found, instead of him, you meet with a totally different man. You looked straight him into the eye as you took up his presence. He was tall, he had a skinny physique but you could certainly see that he was muscular, even though the black shirt and jeans he wore covered his entire body. He had dark, semi-long hair which was slicked back, while he also had dark stubble, which was framing his face aesthetically. Now, his dark brown eyes laid on you and it was like it burned a hole into your soul. He had some characteristic which you could not explain, but you were sure that he was attractive. Very much. And exactly your type. Not to mention that he was older than you, around his mid-30s - early 40s, which you thought was the perfect age as you were always fond of older men.

"Uhm... hey everyone" he started as he finally looked away from you to gaze at the others as well. His voice sent shivers down your spine. It was deep and husky. "I'm John Wick and I'll substitute your last teacher, who became ill. He will turn up as soon as he feels like it, but we don't know when that will happen," he stated. Maybe, the previous teacher would have been better. Now, it will be really hard to focus and now you wanted to study even more just to impress him, which is sounded insane. You immediately started to curse yourself in your head because what you did was completely silly.

"I'm not by any means an Italian teacher, but I'm fluent in Italian, as I've lived in Italy and since this is a beginner's and optional course I thought I will be just as good for this short time as Y/LT/N would have been." as he finished he clapped his palms together, facing towards the desk which now became his. "Firstly, let's start with an introduction and what your goals are, and from that on we can move with the rest of the lecture," he said and turned and pointed towards you. This gesture was unexpected for you and you immediately felt that your cheeks burned up as you tried to collect yourself. You were a great student but you were dealing with anxiety when you had to speak in front of others. Your mind and desires were totally different that you could actually manage out from yourself, and this was true in every situation.

"Uhm..." you started as you cleared your throat. "I'm Y/N and I'm a final year student here. To be honest, I don't really have many goals at the moment, because..." the way he was looking at you completely took your breath away. It was like he sees all of your secrets. "...I want to take a little bit of break from studying after I've finished. I want to work somewhere, see the word. Just those cliché things that usually everyone says." he started to chuckle and honestly, it was the best thing ever.

"Thank you, Y/N" the way your name rolled out of his tongue was beautiful. "I hope everything turns out great for you and one day you even get to Italy as well." he smiled and turned to the next person, so the magic moment you felt completely disappeared within a second. He was just nice. With everyone. He listened to everyone's word with actual interest and wished something friendly before turning to the next person. How could you think that he sees something different in you?

The course actually ended sooner than you would expect, the time flew with him. He gave you a short assignment for next week, collecting all those things you would like to talk about in Italian. On your way out you glazed at him once more, however, his eyes were glued to the paper in front of him. You left out a soft sigh as you left the room.

*

This was the first time in your college years that you really waited for a lecture but at the same time, you also dreaded from it. You could not wait to meet John again or you could say Mr. Wick, but this just fueled your fantasy about him even more. You were sitting in the front row with your classmates, whom you talked about your new teacher. They were eagerly fond of him, but not as you did. Even though they find him attractive, he was just a teacher for them. However, for you, he started to become something else. You could feel something different from him and you thought that he should not be a teacher because it was just not his field. Not that he was a bad teacher or anything, but he was not that teacher type that you could imagine. You felt something which you could not explain. You were always a curious person, and this case was like a puzzle that needed to be solved.

"Buona sera a tutti! (Good evening, everyone!)" he greeted, his eyes lingering on you. You did not want to look away, so the two of your's gaze intertwined with each other for a few seconds. You managed to smile a little bit, but at that same time, he turned away. He was just as good looking as the last time, wearing a light grey t-shirt, regular jeans, and a leather jacket. How could he be this handsome?

"Okay, let's go through those things which you like to learn about, and then we can build the lecture from there." everyone nodded as he said it, preparing their notes on what they would be interested in learning in this course. Your eyes were glued on your paper, your head tilted down trying to avoid eye contact with him when you heard your name.

"Y/N" he stated. "Let's start with you just like last time." you were quite shocked. Nobody managed to remember their students' names in the first weeks. Hell, sometimes not even at the end of the semester either. You looked up at him, seeing his face focusing on you, slightly furrowing his eyebrows in concentration.

"Ordering food..." you breathed out and you started to blame yourself immediately.

"Ordering food in Italian in a restaurant?" he helped you out, stating as it was a declarative sentence, but he shifted the tone in the end. You were grateful for his help. You nodded and he returned a smile to ease your frustration. "Nice, good idea," he said. "Let's move on."

*

The first months of the semester went by rapidly. The first two weeks was just a warm-up, but after that assignments came after assignments as so did exams and such. You could not fantasize about Mr. Wick anymore in your free time as you were loaded with anxiety to finish every task just in time. However, you always waited for the class, even though your mind wandered somewhere else. Thankfully, about two weeks spring break will come.

"You can handle your assignments on your way out. That's the end of the class. Thank you everyone." he said and at that point, you realized that you completely forgot about your essay which you should have written for today. You thought that is due next week. Well, fuck. Basically, everyone handled in their assignment, as you approached John you became very nervous. You did not really know what to say.

"Jonathan" the words fell out of your lips without thinking. You realized that what you said was rude and you just tried to make the situation better, even though your teacher's expression did not change. "John... I mean Mr. Wick." you cursed yourself, trying to get out of the situation somehow.

"Yes, Y/N?" he asked, as he was looking down at you. He was so much taller than you, the way he looked consumed your whole being.

"I'm so sorry but I forgot to write my essay for this week. I thought it was due to next week. I'm sorry." you jabbered, looking at your feet to ease your nervousness.

"It's okay, Y/N," he said calmly. "You can handle it next week as well." when you looked up at him he was slightly smiling. That damn smirk made butterflies in your stomach, causing your heart rate to quicken.

"Really?" you asked back. "No punishments?" without thinking, the question just rolled out of your tongue.

He turned his head a little bit, trying to hide his ever-growing smile.

"Would you like to?" you started to blush at his deep voice, thinking about something inappropriate when he clearly was just talking about the assignment.

"No..." you answered. "Not for an essay, no." you just started to make everything worse. You wished that the ground would swallow you on the spot.

"Periodt then," he said to ease the tension a little bit. "Or whatever slang you use these days." You genuinely started to laugh, and it was really good after a long time. Nobody made you laugh these days and it was really nice to talk to someone besides listening to lectures all the time.

"Wow, I'm impressed" it was just absurd to hear this word from his mouth. But you really felt this way.

"My goal is accomplished than" was all he answered. Was he flirting with you? You just wished that. But the whole situation was just weird. Just the way you felt like before. He is not in the right place, something is off with him. You learned these few signals over the years just to protect yourself, still, something keeps attracted you to him.

"I'll try to write it as soon as I can and bring you in your office hours." you smiled shyly.

"It's okay, Y/N, don't worry about it" he smiled back and that smile made you go crazy. You turned your back to him to leave the room. You were standing in the door when you suddenly turned back towards him once again. He was still watching you.

"Thank you, Mr. Wick," you said, waiting for no answer when he said:

"You can call me Jonathan or John. Whichever you like." you were just standing there, completely in shock. This never happened to you before. None of your previous teachers of yours allowed to call them on their first name. To be honest, you did not even try but with John, it just slipped out. You did not know what to say so you just nodded, leaving him standing there watching after you.

*

The rest of the week was awful. You could not wait for the weekend when you could rest a little bit. You were extremely overwhelmed with work and it seemed that nothing wants to work out for you. It was Friday morning, thankfully you did not have any classes left so you finally could work on your assignment for Mr. Wick. You meant, Jonathan. Thinking about him and the way he said that you can call him on his first name made your heart beat faster. Since that day you could not stop thinking about him, which is why everything became harder than it should have been.

It was around 11 in the morning, but you already did a lot of work. You went to the store, then you cooked something for you for the weekend, you cleaned the house as well as doing the laundry. Your roommate was not home, as usual. Since she got that boyfriend of hers, they always spent the time together. At least, you were alone and nobody could bother you. You always did the house chores anyway, as she not usually cleaned up. After everything fallen from your hands and you basically had to clean up twice, the last task was taking out the trash. You somehow managed to take all of her and your trash into three bags. You were already on your way out when you realized that something from one of the bags was leaking. You started to become really angry and mad. At the edge of crying and breaking something, to say the least. You tried to hold back yourself together, taking a deep breath and hoping that the bag will hold on till you reached the bin in front of the street. As it was mentioned before, this was not your day.

Half of the stuff fallen on the ground just when you dumped the rest of it into the trash.

"FUCK" you cried out, hitting the top of the trash and also kicking into it to release those pressure which started to build up in you.

"Y/N" you heard a deep voice behind you. When you turned around you realized that John was there. Who probably watched the previous scene when you freaked out. What was he doing here? "You need any help?"

"Mr. Wick" you started but he interrupted you.

"John."

"Yes, John." you started. "This isn't my day. Could you please wait here as I get another bag?" you asked. You could just said that everything was fine and he could go on his day. But no. Because you did not want him to leave, even though you had no idea what was he doing here.

"Don't worry, I got some," he said while reaching for a plastic bag from his pockets. You lifted your eyebrow while he handed one to you as well as ripping one for himself. "I have a dog, so..." he said, while the two of you collected the rest of the trash. Well, this was not romantic at all. Your cheeks started to burn as you felt the situation kind of humiliating.

"What kind of dog you have?" you asked, trying to pick up the stuff as fast as you could.

"A blue English Staffordshire Bull Terrier" he breathed out when the two of you finally dumped away the rest of the trash.

"Oh, those are really nice dogs even though everyone seems to be afraid of them" you started the conversation and you could swear that his eyes lit up at your compliment.

"Oh, totally. They are super nice when they are raised well," he said smiling. "There are no bad dogs just bad owners." you just nodded, did not know what to say. A few seconds passed by just looking at each other, none of you said anything or moved.

"I should get..." he started, but at the same time, you started as well.

"Would you like a coffee or something in return?" you asked.

"Yeah, sure" he breathed but turned away from you to his car. Which you only realized just now. "Can I park here?" he asked as he gesticulated towards his Mustang. Your jaw just dropped.

"Wow. She's beautiful," you said coming closer to his car. You did not realize what you did until you actually did it. You reached out to touch the roof and at the same time approach John incredibly close. You just recognized that you did not answer his previous question. "And yes, I think you can park here but I'm not sure though."

He said nothing, just looking at you and monitoring every movement you made. He appreciated how your eyes were shining with excitement. Your fingertips which caressed his car so gently. Your hair, which slightly fallen into your face, framing it beautifully. You took his breath away.

"Would you like to try it out?" you did not really comprehend his question, as you were still focusing on his car. When the question finally hit you, you turned towards him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Is this allowed?" you asked. At this moment you wanted nothing more than him taking you out for a ride.

"Why wouldn't be allowed?" he asked back, kind of confused.

"Because you're my teacher." you simply answered back. At that moment you could swear that the smile frozen to his lips, like the reality hit him or something. Something was off. Just like you suspected before. "If you're a teacher at all," you added carefully.

"Who else would I be?" the confidence which was radiating from him started to slowly fade away. He was nervous, you could see that.

"I don't know, you just not seem to be a teacher type of guy." you started. "You don't look like it... and, surely, teachers cannot afford cars like this." you pointed towards his engine. In that second, he moved closer to you, which is why the air stuck in your throat. You looked up at him, his eyes were dark with some emotion which you could not read. You have not seen this side of him yet.

"Maybe, I got it as a gift" his voice comes through your fast heartbeat which was throbbing in your ear.

"I doubt it" you had no idea where this bravery was coming from, even you were surprised. Before he could manage to say something his phone started to ring. He pulled away from you to answer it.

"I'll be there," he said shortly, hanging up the phone. "Sorry, Y/N. I have to go." he was fast. Before you could realize he already got into his car. "Maybe next time," he added, and before you could realize he was already on his way leaving you on the sidewalk alone.

*

The next time you meet him was after his Italian class. You did not attend class, but you managed to arrive at the end of the session to give your essay to him. He was looking good as always, wearing dark clothes highlighting every muscle on his bare skin which was not covered.

"I'm sorry John that I couldn't come for today's class, but I had some family issues" you breathed out which was kind of true. You had family issues, anxiety issues, university issues, and just issues of issues. On top of that, you got a lot of anxiety attacks lately, which did not help you at all. Your hands were shaking as you handed your essay to him. "I know I said that I can manage to finish earlier but I couldn't," you added and he did not say a word. He did not even look at you as he took away the essay. You were heartbroken.

As he did not say anything else you just left the room completely taken aback, trying to suppress the tears which you could feel that going to burst out. When you arrived in the hallway, it was harder and harder to suppress it. You quickly went to the bathroom and when you closed the door behind you everything just came out. All of those tensions were building inside up you. Those feelings which constantly taken up your mind. That you're never good enough, that you have no one to rely on, not even a friend, not family. Nobody. You had nothing and no one. Besides that, you were constantly under stress because of the university. You wanted to perform as the best version of yourself, but you just could not hold back anymore.

After the tears came out and your breathing became a little bit better you went to the basin to wash your face with cold water and to make yourself a little bit more presentable as you still had class. You took a deep breath and got out to the next lesson. Everyone was waiting at the door as the room was not open yet. At this moment, one of your classmates who was kind of nice to you touched your arm.

"Hey, Y/N" she started. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Even though you appreciated her question, you did not know what to say.

"Yeah, sure. Why?" you lied, but it was enough for her to completely change the topic.

"Will you come to the party next week?"

"I don't know" you started. "I haven't really thought about it." as soon as you finished one of the other classmates of yours spoken up.

"She doesn't know because he is waiting for John. I mean, Mr. Wick," he said, bursting out into laughter. You did not know how he found out but your cheeks started to burn up.

"What did you just say?" you asked back, almost shouting at him when you heard the others whispering.

"Oh shit, here he comes," said one of them. When you turned back John was standing next to you. You were sure that he heard the whole conversation. When he looked at you his eyes stuck at your red ones. You were sure that he knew that you were crying. Even though the cold water helped, you still looked like a mess.

"Is there a problem?" he asked using his deep, "discipline" teacher voice. His voice was dangerously low, which sent a shiver down your spine and a feeling to your core which you tried not to think about.

"Not at all" smiled back the douchebag who started everything in the first place. John lightly grabbed your arm, turning his whole body towards you.

"Y/N, can we talk?" he whispered, but the others still managed to figure out the situation. As you answered, they started to chuckle, but at that point, you could not care less as John guided towards his office.

When there were just the two of you, he looked at you with concern on his face.

"Is everything all right, Y/N?" he asked but you just could not look at him. Your eyes were fixated on your shoes. Why would he care? He did not even look at you half an hour ago. You did not answer. You did not know what to say. He was your teacher. You could not tell him your problems even though you wanted to. "Y/N?" he asked again.

This time you looked up at him. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, waiting for your answer.

"I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Wick" you stressed his last name. A sudden expression went through his face which you could not read. "Why would you care, you're just a teacher anyway," you said without thinking of the consequences as you stormed out of his office.  

*

The last week before spring break went quite quickly even though you felt like a zombie. You did not attend your class with John, even though you desperately wanted to. You just skipped that class, while you were attending the others. You were hiding in the hallway, trying to avoid anyone. Just arriving at the beginning of the course and coming out as soon as you could. In this way, you could survive university. Now, thankfully you had a free week when you could charge up your battery and just rest a little. Your mind wandered at the party which your classmate mentioned to you, wondering if John would be there. A few teachers had to be there, because it was a university party and they were still responsible for you somehow.

You really wanted to go. To dance, to drink and to forget all of your problems.

That is why you were standing in front of your mirror trying to soothe imaginary creases on your black dress. You kept finding mistakes on yourself, about your makeup, about your hair. But at the same time, you kept reminding yourself that this is just a party and the main goal is that you should enjoy the night without constantly thinking bullshit about yourself.

This is what you kept saying in your head on your way to the party. The place was already buzzing with music and people's voices, radiating a certain kind of heat as well. As you step inside, you were already washed away by the crowd, seeing people who you never saw before.

As you looked around you saw a giant plaque that said that it was a retro vs. modern age night. All night, songs from the 80/90s were played, after that came a piece of current music and the whole mass went insane. Everybody moved as a whole in perfect sync swaying to the rhythm of the music. Sadly, you could see that a lot of people were high and drunk, which you could never do, but you still wanted to dance. You just started to move your body alone, when your all-time a favorite song started to play from the speakers.

Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?

I travel the world

And the seven seas,

Everybody's looking for something

At that point, your eyes stuck at a dark figure which you could recognize even in your dreams. John Wick was standing there, looking at you. He was wearing a full black suit with his hair slicked back. You were constantly gazing at him. Even though you wanted him to be here the whole situation was absurd and unbelievable. However, he still managed to surprise you all the time.

Some of them want to use you

Some of them want to get used by you

Some of them want to abuse you

Some of them want to be abused.

Looking at him and listening to these lines hit you. Hit you really hard. As you looked at him, all of your desires and hidden fantasies started to take over your body. Your nasty hidden feelings. All of those things which you could never share with anyone. You wanted to be used, you wanted to be abused. But you wanted these in a good way. You wanted this as a thing, where the two of you want this not just you. You wanted to be safe, you wanted to feel appreciated, you wanted to feel special, you wanted to be WANTED. You wanted a man, who makes you feel things you never felt before. Who does things to you and touches you like you never experienced before. Maybe, just the daddy issues were speaking from you but looking at John you could feel that he could fulfill all of your wishes and desires. Not to mention that he would be there for you as a friend, as a lover, even as a soulmate. And as someone, who just genuinely cares about you. At least, you hoped so. But it could never happen because he was just a teacher and you were just a silly student.

However, the way he was looking at you consumed your whole being. You did not know what happened to you but you started to sensually move your hips, turning your back to him to kind of show him what he can get.

After a few seconds, you felt a muscular, hard chest pushing against your body.

"Mind if I join?" a deep voice asked and you could recognize this tone everywhere. You did not even answer as you did not have to. You just turned back towards him, getting as close as possible. He was even more handsome up close, taking your breath away.

"Is this allowed?" you shouted, but it sounded like a whisper in the crowd.

He pulled you closer to him, resting his hands on your waist and tilting his head down to bury his face into your hair.

"I don't even care anymore" he answered, his breath caressing your ear as well as the side of your neck. This sent a shiver down your spine, causing your thighs to rub together to ease the sensation which was building in your core deep down. He could feel that your body tense up between his palms, but he kept you steady with his strong and firm hands.

"What does that mean?" he looked up at you, with some expression on your face which you could not read. He wanted to tell you something, you could see that but something changed as he looked at your side.

"Stay here," he said and suddenly his touch disappeared causing you to shiver as he was not there anymore.

You could barely react, but you still managed to see where he went to. Without thinking, you started to follow him.

 You looked at him everywhere when you find him outside the field of the campus. To be honest, you could barely see him but you could hear him grunting and... fighting? He was the last man standing with someone else, besides them, there were laying bodies. You could never dream of being a situation like this. You did not know what to do. You were completely frozen and could not move. Your panic started to take over your mind and you could barely manage your breathing.

"John" suddenly you cried out. He immediately looked at you, which the opponent took as a chance and hit him right in the gut. He sunk into his knees, while the other man started to approach you.

"Y/N run," he said but you could not even lift your finger. You could see as the other man was getting closer and closer to you when John grabbed him from behind and started to choke him. The other man started to run out of the air and suddenly collapsed into John's arms. John did not even think twice, he dropped the enemy onto the ground. Before you could realize, John grabbed your arm, dragging you across the field into the parking lot where you saw his car.

"Get in the car!" he ushered you, but you could barely move. You were completely frozen which was insane thinking that your body was on fire just a few minutes ago.

"Why?" you managed to push this word out of you when he started to yell.

"Get in the fucking car!" he said and that predatory look on his face with some bruises and blood made him look like a totally different person. You got in the car, slowly breathing out that air that you did not know you were holding. He started the engine and drive at a very high speed toward somewhere which you could not recognize.

"Where are you taking me?" your throat was dry. It was hard to speak, but this was the only sentence which you dared to ask after minutes.

"Home. To me," he answered shortly.

"Why?" you whispered but he could hear it. After minutes, you finally looked at him. He was holding the wheel so damn strong that his knuckles went white. He was angry, you could see that. His whole expression changed as he was not looking at you, just fixating his eyes on the road.

"Because you fucking messed up your goddamn life" to hear him swearing made you sense that you are truly in deep trouble.

"What did I do?" you asked softly and suddenly all of his muscles started to loosen up at your tone.

"I was taking out a gang when you just showed up, risking your whole life just to look after me." he started.

"So you..." you started softly as you could feel that the ice between the two of you started to melt. "You're not a teacher." was all you managed to say.

"God no," he answered, and before you could realize you started to laugh. It came from the bottom of your heart. He looked at you the first time, furrowing his brows. "It's not funny, Y/N.," he said and before you could stop yourself the following words just slip out of your mouth:

"Thank God, 'cause ever since I saw you I've kept telling myself that I can't fall for a teacher" as soon as you said it your cheek started to burn. He looked at you with piercing eyes.

"I'm not a teacher, but I'm way worse," he said in a dangerously low voice. And thinking back to those guys around him finally hit you.

"Who are you?" you whispered. He looked back at the road as he could not bear to see your expression when he told you the truth.

"I'm a ..." he started, but he did not want to say assassin. Because that was just too much the handle. "I'm the one who takes out the bad guys." you nodded, did not know what to do with this information. You have always known that there is something wrong with him, but you could not explain why. Now, this was the reason and you wished that you did not know. Still, you fell for him even more.

"Did you kill them?" you asked.

"No." he answered back. "I didn't have my gun." suddenly you felt that breathing becomes heavier.

"Have you killed someone?" you barely dared to ask this question but the heavy silence which felt on you told more than words.

 You did not say a word until he finally stopped at his garage. His house was beautiful, so big that it was unbelievable that it only belonged to him.

"Wow..." you whispered and he smiled.

"Y/N" he started and you turned towards him. "I'm sorry that I disappointed you. I just wanted to protect you. You'll stay here until I finish this business and make sure that no one harms you. After that, you're free to go." you did not know what to say. You wanted to say something, but you could not. Your mind wandered somewhere else, constantly thinking about what the two of you talked about in the car. You told him about your feelings and he did not even say anything. "I have a room for you here," he said and ushered you to a room, leaving you alone.

*

You could barely get some sleep. Your mind was constantly thinking about John and his life. How dangerously he lived and how he managed to keep his camouflage at the university. Honestly, you even cried that night as well. You did not know what to do and how to react, even though you wanted him. Your mind could not be silenced after you saw him in action and what he did you still thought about his arms, his hands, and his body as he pulled you closer to him at the party. Not to mention that you felt his goddamn intoxicating perfume in his whole house as well as in the sheets.

After being up all evening, you woke up late in the afternoon. It was already 5 when you looked at the clock on the nightstand on your left. You left out a sigh, focusing on sounds. But you could not hear any. You slowly got up and opened to the door.

“John?” you cried out but no answers came. Instead of that, you heard something which was running towards you. Then you saw John’s dog. “Oh my God, you’re so cute” you kneeled to the ground to pet the dog which was in its early months. It was still small, but you could see the strong, robust figure which started to form underneath its skin. “Where were you last night?” you asked as if the dog could answer you. However, after petting and talking to it all of your stress and doubts left the mind.

You went to the kitchen, where on the counter you found a note. It was written by John and he had beautiful handwriting.

“Make yourself at home.” was all it said. Straightforward. Just like John.

 After taking a shower and finding a long t-shirt in John’s wardrobe you finally sat down onto the sofa when the front door opened. John came in, the dog immediately cheered him licking and panting all over him. You watched the scene with a smile on your face. After John returned the same excitement as the dog, he finally looked at you. You were wearing one of his t-shirts. And that was it.

“What are you wearing?” he demanded. You stood up immediately, trying to explain yourself.

“You said that make yourself at home, so I’ve showered and searched for something to wear because the dress was really uncomfortable,” you said quickly. John left out a soft “oh” as he could have thought about this in the first place. Even though he did not want to admit, but he really liked the way it looked on you.

“Everything is clear now,” he stated simply. “I’m taking you home. Are you ready?” he asked and you were just standing there as if your legs got stuck into the ground.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” you started carefully, hinting to your previous unfinished conversation last night as well how he “cleared everything up”.

“No.” was all he said which felt like ripping and turning up your insides. You just nodded, turning away to suppress all of your emotions. That’s it. All of your fantasies about this man ended. He did not want to do anything with you. This was just business after all. And he finished it.

“I’m grabbing my stuff” you whispered, your throat was dry you could barely speak.

 After collecting your dress and purse you were standing in front of him again. “Take me home,” you said firmly when his form started to loosen up.

“Y/N” he followed you as you were heading into the garage. His beautiful car was there, standing next to another one.

“Just take me home.” was all you said before he grabbed your wrist, pulling back to him and pushing his lips against yours. The kiss was not a soft one. It was passionate and hard. It took a few milliseconds to react, but gosh… it was desperate. From the two of you. Teeth clicked, tongues rolled against each other as the two of you started to express which words could not. He was cupping one of your cheeks, pushing you closer to him as much as he could. Your hands started to explore his body, caressing the soft material of his suit. You could feel as he started to harden beneath your touch, basically… everywhere. Just like in a second, which made you even more insane. He wanted you so much, he could barely hold himself back. He was rucking up your shirt with his other hand, grabbing your waist strongly which sent goosebumps all over your body. His touch was just like you imagined. No… it was even better. It took a side of you which you did not even know you had.

You could feel that you started to wet your panties even though he did not even touch you there yet. He was now kissing you a little bit softer but still passionately, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You started to moan as it did whole new sensations to your body which you never experienced before. He lifted you up from the ground before you could realize, to make you sit on the hood of his car. At that exact moment, you hooked your legs around his legs, pulling him closer to you. It was insane how the two of you moved in sync. It was like a perfect dance and choreography, even though you have not done this before to the other. But still, it was like you found a long lost piece from yourself. And he felt the same. The two of you did not stop kissing until his hands reached up to your neck, softly squeezing it to make out a moan from you which you could not even stop. John immediately stopped looking at you with concern on his face.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly looking at your neck if he caused any injuries. He did not even know what he has done until you moaned.

“Gosh no,” you started to laugh and blush. “It just… felt really good.” his eyes lit up with lust. It became even darker than it already was. He was looking at you, constantly holding his gaze when he reached again to your neck. He squeezed it a little bit harder this time, but it was even better. Your eyes rolled back as your core started to throb with desire.

“Fuck, Y/N” he breathed at the sight. “You’re making me insane.” was all he said before sinking to his knees. He pulled you closer to him, making you lay on the edge of his car. He looked so good kneeling between your thighs. And he looked even better when he started to stroke your clit through your underwear. He sharply sucked the air just by the sight of it.

You were laying on his car in your black lace panties. This was even better than he could ever dream for. He was holding himself back, but he was about to burst out.

“You look so good,” he said as he pushed your panties to the side to insert one finger slowly into you. You laid back all the way on his car as he started to finger your inside with one hand and your clit with his other one. You bite your lip to hold your moans back, but it was a really difficult thing to do. As he was so freaking good with his hand. You could barely hold yourself back when suddenly he pulled his finger out of you. Before you could realize, your panties were on the floor, and John grabbed your thighs to draw you closer to him. Now, he used his tongue instead of his fingers to play with your wetness, causing you to arch your back pushing your backside closer to his face. He grabbed your ass firmly with his hands, he wanted to control and drive you insane. He could not let you chase for your own pleasure. He wanted to make your pleasure. He wanted to make you lose your mind. He wanted you to scream his name.

He was flicking his tongue, constantly changing position between your clit and inside thing, delving his tongue deeper and deeper. You were moaning, making sounds, saying his name with some curse words as well. You were right. He truly made you feel things that you never felt before.

Suddenly, your most intense orgasm ever washed over you out of nothing, clenching all over John’s hands and tongue as he was still fucking you mercilessly with it to help over your after wave. Your hands were still grabbing his hair, rocking your hips against his face.

“Jonathan,” you said after a few seconds when he stood up, looking at you laying on his car finally satisfied. You sit up to push a soft kiss against his lips, which on you could feel your juices. Which caused you to be even hornier. As it was possible.

“I love when you say my name” he chuckled which made your stomach flop from happiness. “That is why I can’t wait to hear you screaming it,” he added with a dangerously low voice.

“Can I ask you something, Jonathan?” you said carefully, pulling him closer to you.

“Anything, doll” he answered.

“Then, fuck me” you whispered shyly. You did not know where this bravery was from, but John truly made you feel things that you never felt before.

“You don’t even have to ask,” he said as you started to undress him. His expensive suit and tie dropped onto the floor and the same time he removed the t-shirt and bra which you were still wearing as well.

He took your whole body in and admired every sight of it.

“You’re beautiful,” he said before pressing another urgent kiss to your lips. He grabbed your hair, making you moan into his mouth at how good all of this felt. At that exact moment, he thrust into you and your whole world rocked. He stretched you all the way up, cause you to cry out his name louder than you anticipated.

“Tell me if it hurts” he added and you couldn’t form a single word because the pleasure mixed with all the pain, caused to build your second orgasm and he was restlessly fucking you. You were a moaning mess, so is he. He was grunting and cursing as the two of you started to reach climax.

“Ah, fuck-“you cried out as your walls started to clench. “Let me cum, Mr. Wick” you added and you could actually feel that Jonathan is twitching inside of you. He suddenly stopped and grabbed your neck, ushering you to look at him.

“Say that again,” he demanded.

“Which part?” you asked shyly, thinking that it was a mistake and you’ve ruined everything.

“All of it.”

“Let me cum, Mr. Wick,” you looked straight into his eyes when you said it. The fact that you’re biting your bottom lip didn’t help him at all.

“Gosh…” he huffed and continued to mercilessly pound into you, deeper and deeper each time. You were overwhelmed with the new sensations and your whole-body shake, when the second, but most intense orgasm of the night hit you. John was approaching his own climax as well, every thrust of his became a little bit sloppier and out of pace. He kissed you so softly, when he reached his own pleasure, moaning into your mouth which sent a vibration down to your body. You tensed your legs around his waist, taking him in more while lying down on the top of his car.

“I’m sorry we made a mess,” you whispered and he started to chuckle.

“Don’t worry about that, especially that we’re only getting started,” he said in a dangerously low voice. And oh boy, he was right…

*

This is it. It was the end of suffering. End of your university years. As for now. You couldn’t be happier as you’ve left the building and saw a beautiful mustang parked on the driveway. It was from John Wick. You were quite surprised as he said that he has to leave the town for some… business. You didn’t expect him to be back this soon. Now, you’re smile grew even bigger.

“Here is my graduated girl,” he smiled at you and pressed a soft, loving kiss to your lips when you got next to him. You gave him a half-hug in this position, laughing into his shoulders.

“I did it.”

“Yes, you did,” he said, looking straight into your eyes now. He took out an envelope from his jacket. “I brought you this,” he said softly, and you were surprised.

“John, you shouldn’t…” but he cut you off.

“Just open it!” and you did. You carefully ripped off the edges taking out two flight tickets to Italy. Tears started to gather in your eyes.

“John…” you started but you didn’t even know how to begin. He also became emotional, as he looked at you.

“At our first Italian class, you’ve said that you want to see the world. I hope this will be a good start.” you didn’t know how you got a man like John, but it was more than you deserved.

“I love you, John,” you breathed out and this was the first time you’ve actually said this. He looked at you and his whole expression changed, suddenly his body tensed up. You suddenly became afraid that you said something wrong. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe…

“I love you too, Y/N,” he said finally and he pressed a kiss into your lips which told more than words. This was just the beginning. The very beginning of your life and also the adventure, which you continued with John Wick till the very end.