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the-modernmary · 4 years ago

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you’ll always know me || aaron hotchner x reader

Summary: "I would have stayed... If you asked me to.

After your high school graduation, you left without saying goodbye to Aaron Hotchner, your best friend, and nobody had heard from you since. Years later, you're back in DC, and catching up with Aaron brings more than you could have possibly hoped for.

Warnings: mentions of weed

A/N: I really wanted some soft Hotch content in my life after all the angst in my best habit, and this is about as soft as I can get. Inspired by Taylor Swift's "dorothea". Honestly, I was listening to evermore, blacked out for about three hours, and this is what came from that. There is no other explanation for this. It's written differently than my usual style, but I hope y'all like it still!

read on ao3 || masterlist

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“What’s got you in such a rush?”

Rossi eyes Aaron carefully as the latter circles around his office, double and triple-checking that he didn’t forget anything. The last thing he wants is to have to come back to the office and cut his day short.

Aaron shoves a few case files in his briefcase. “An old friend from high school is in town and I’m meeting up with her.”

Rossi perks up at the word ‘her’ and he leans against the door frame. Aaron notices this, too, because he shakes his head quickly. “It’s not like that. We both got sent to boarding school for being problem children and we became quick friends. I haven’t talked to her since graduation. She just packed up her stuff and left the very next day.”

“You sound bitter,” Rossi points out.

“Not at all,” he lies, trying to forget the hurt of running to your dorm for your weekly breakfast together, only to be met with an empty room and a singular polaroid. “I knew she hated it there and her goal was to travel and see as many places as she could. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s back stateside at all. Last I heard, she was doing some art apprenticeship in Italy, but that was years ago.”

“You sound like you have a long evening ahead of you, so I’ll get out of your hair. And have some fun tonight, Aaron. You deserve it,” Rossi adds on as an afterthought.

The corners of Aaron's mouth lift slightly. “I will. Try not to let the building burn down while I’m gone. Reid is back on his physics magic kick, and I think I heard something about a lighter.”

Rossi gives Aaron a two-finger, half-hearted salute in acknowledgment, which is all it takes for Aaron to shut his office door and head towards the elevator. Knowing that you’re just outside, he has to make a conscious effort to slow his pace from an excited jog to just an anxious speed walk. The elevator ride is slow, seemingly stopping at every single floor on the way down, which gives his mind ample time to wander and think back to graduation day.

“There you are!” Aaron shouts from across the football field as he runs up to you, shoving through bustling groups of families trying to take pictures. He has so many stoles and cords and leis around his neck that you can barely see the suit he’s wearing underneath his gown. It’s a stark contrast to you, with only a singular chord for academic achievement, although a 3.2 wasn’t much of an achievement in the eyes of most people at boarding school.

“Here I am!” you laugh, throwing your arms around him in a hug and breathing in the smell of his cologne.

“Where’re your parents? Didn’t they come?”

“Of course they didn’t. They’re not ones for celebrating something as trivial as high school graduation, not when it’s just expected of me.” You roll your eyes. “What about you? I thought you and Haley were going to do the whole ‘meet the family’ thing today?”

Aaron is oblivious to the bitterness in your voice, although that’s nothing new. “We are, but I just wanted to give these to you.” It’s then that you notice the bouquet of flowers in his hand, although it’s now being pressed into your arms. “As a congrats. And a thank you for being there for me this whole time. You’re my best friend.”

You try to ignore the ache in your chest at his words. “Thank you, Aaron. I… I didn’t get you anything, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he waves it off. “If you want to get me something, breakfast is your treat tomorrow.”

“Okay, deal,” you agree, the smile coming back to your face. Selfishly, you don’t want him to go back to Haley or his family just yet. You want him to stay there with you so you don’t feel so lonely in the crowd of happy graduates. “God, I can’t believe you’re staying in D.C. for college. We always talked about getting out, seeing the world and never coming back.”

Aaron shrugs, and you watch as he brushes away a piece of his hair that falls into his face. “I’m hoping that going to GW for undergrad will make it easier to get into law school there.”

“And Haley Brooks is still here for another year,” you point out, half accusatory.

“Yeah, that, too.” Aaron chuckles uncomfortably before quickly switching the conversation. “What about you? Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“There’s an art school in Glasgow I’m thinking of going to. But, you know… George Washington also has an art program. It’s pretty nice, too. I’m still deciding.” You trail off, looking straight into Aaron’s eyes, giving him every chance in the world to make the decision for you.

Aaron hesitates, fighting an internal battle. “Go to Glasgow!” he says, fake enthusiasm in his voice, but your disappointment blocks out anything but his actual words. “Then I’ll have an excuse to visit Scotland.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was leaning towards, too,” you lie. “Aaron, I—”

You’re cut off by a voice calling his name. You both turn around to see Haley Brooks waving him over, her other hand holding 7-year-old Sean’s hand. She looks like spring personified, her blonde hair in bouncy curls and her pink sundress swishing around her long, slender legs. Her smile is so big that it could have parted storm clouds, and you want nothing more than to hate her with every single fiber of your being.

But then you see Aaron, returning her megawatt smile with his own, one you rarely ever saw, and how can you hate somebody who makes him so happy?

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” he says, although there’s not even a hint of regret in his voice. “But I’ll see you for one last Sunday breakfast tomorrow?”

“I’ll see you then,” you lied.

How Aaron could have missed the signs of your unhappiness, he’ll never know. At that time, all he knew was that you left without ever saying goodbye, leaving behind only a polaroid of the two of you from your weekend trip to Virginia Beach, both of you drunk and laughing with your arms wrapped around each other. He still has it, buried in his nightstand somewhere, but he hasn’t had the courage to look at it for a few years now.

As Aaron steps out of the FBI building, he recognizes you instantly, even though it’s only the back of your head, and it causes his breath to catch in his throat. He calls your name and watches as you turn around, your hair whipping around you, and the fact that you still have that same mischievous glint in your eyes is enough to make him feel like he’s sixteen again and nervously skipping class with you holding his hand and pulling him towards the school gates.

“Aaron!” You jog up to him and throw your arms around him in a hug, which he happily reciprocates. You press a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away, and Aaron’s entire face burns.

You keep your hands on his biceps, holding him at arm’s length, as you study him. He looks almost exactly the same as he did all those years ago, with soft hair and the slightest bit of stubble, but he looks less carefree. He seems more mature, like life had aged him 100 years. Still, as cute as high school Aaron was, it had nothing on how good he looks now. “Look at you, Mr. FBI, all suit and corporate-looking! I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ve changed quite a bit,” he admits, and the sight of his dimples makes you want to melt right there into the sidewalk. “It’s really good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you barely thought about me,” you joke, but hurt flashes through your eyes.

Aaron wants to argue, to tell you that he thinks about you all the time, but decides against it. He doesn’t want to spend the precious few hours he has with you bringing up old issues. “Are you hungry? Because there’s this diner a few blocks down with giant milkshakes.”

“Why are we still standing here, then? All you had to say was milkshakes, they’re my favorite.”

“I know. I remember,” he says, and that all-too-familiar pang in your heart comes back like it had never left. “Come on, we can walk and cut through a park.”

The two of you start your walk in comfortable silence, listening to the bustling city around you. Every once in a while, your hands would bump into his, and you were doing everything you could to ignore it.

“So did you ever go to that art school?” he asks suddenly, looking over at you.

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. “I did. You were right, I loved Scotland.”

“Where did you go after that? Nobody heard from you.”

Your eyes sparkle as memories of your life the past few years flash through your mind. “Everywhere. Literally. I took a bunch of odd jobs and spent my time traveling,” you admitted. “I taught English in Vietnam for a year, worked on a cruise ship that went around South America, was an au pair for a French ambassador, went on research expeditions… Even dated a pilot for all of six months. Anything I could do that would let me see the world.” You laugh to yourself, shaking your head fondly. “I really put that private boarding school tuition to good use, huh? My parents were pissed.”

“It sounds like you were living the life you dreamed of,” Aaron says softly, looking down at you.

“It was,” you agree, your voice a little sad.

“So then why are you back here in DC?”

You shrug, your hands clasped behind your back, and you step down on a particularly crunchy leaf. “I’m just passing through. I’ve been going around the US and looking for a place to settle down. Finally. Figured I might as well put that art degree to good use. Maybe I’ll open a gallery or something.”

Aaron nods slowly as the chill of autumn runs through his bones. It’s nice, though, in a weird way. He’s always preferred the fall over spring. “Where have you looked so far?”

“Lots of places. San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Atlanta, San Antonio, Miami… I’m heading up to New York next. Nothing’s felt right so far. But enough about me, how are you? I heard you married Haley Brooks.”

That same bitterness you felt in high school when you talked about Haley comes back with a vengeance. It’s unfair, and you know that. How was Aaron supposed to know that you were practically in love with him in high school if you never told him? Even now, you’re sure that he hasn’t put together the pieces.

You watch as his gaze falls slightly. “I did. She died a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and you reach out to give his hand a small squeeze.

“We got divorced a little while before it happened,” he explains, unsure why it’s so important to him that you know that. “I blamed myself for it for a long time. But I’ve, uh… I’ve made peace with it now.”

You give him a comforting smile, fully aware of the fact that you’re still holding his hand. “Aaron Hotchner, making peace with something in his life? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Aaron chuckles and bumps his shoulder to yours. “I’ve been known to do it a few times. But only a few. Haley and I have a son, though. His name is Jack. He’s 8 now.”

You shake your head in disbelief, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “And you’re a father? Wow, you really have changed.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, and you shake your head wordlessly.

“I like every version of Aaron Hotchner,” you promise. “Besides, change is a good thing. Especially since this city hasn’t changed a bit.”

Aaron looks around, eyebrows furrowed, like he’s seeing DC for the very first time. “It’s actually changed quite a bit. But it’s subtle. Only people who have been here as long as I have would even notice it, probably.”

The words cut through you both as a painful reminder of your abrupt departure from DC, and the silence settles over the two of you like a thick fog. This conversation was going to have to happen no matter what, you knew that going into this meeting with Aaron, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

“I would have stayed,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “If you asked me to.”

Aaron shakes his head as his Adam’s apple bobs. “I thought about it. But I couldn’t do that to you. I knew you wanted to see the world, and you said it yourself. This city had nothing left to offer you.”

You pause, rubbing your thumb over your fingertips with your freehand. “It had you,” you reply, and Aaron feels like he was just stabbed in the heart. “That would have been enough.” Seeing Aaron’s dejected face, you quickly keep talking. “But I get it, don’t worry. You were head over heels for Haley Brooks. Everybody knew you two were meant to be together.””

“What does that have to do with you leaving?” he asks, more accusatory than he intended.

“Everything.”

Aaron breathes out your name, unsure of what to say until he settles on: “I’m sorry.”

You wave him off, forcing a laugh. “Don’t be. I was 17 years old with a crush. We do stupid things, like want to stay at home for a boy. I’m glad I left. Besides, Haley Brooks was clearly the love of your life, and far be it from me to try and break up the golden couple.”

The two of you stop in front of the diner and you drop Aaron’s hand, much to his disappointment, although you’re still close enough to him to see your reflection in his brown eyes. “I didn’t know you felt like that about me,” he says.

“Which is surprising, because everybody else definitely knew. But you’ve always been a little clueless when it comes to stuff like that,” you tease, flashing him a toothy smile. “But it’s in the past. So come on, I want to hear about this FBI stuff and drink a milkshake so big it makes my stomach hurt.”

Twenty minutes later, you and Aaron find yourselves smushed together in a corner booth covered in cheap vinyl, splitting a chocolate milkshake and laughing as you stroll down memory lane.

“You know, I ran into Stephen yesterday! A little coffee shop not too far from here,” you tell Aaron.

Aaron almost drops the fry he was about to eat. “Do you mean Stoner Stephen? What is he doing back here?”

You take a sip of the milkshake, and Aaron’s gaze is intense as you wrap your lips around the straw. When you pull back, he’s still staring at the soft pink your lipstick leaves behind. “Apparently, he’s lived here for years. Also, did you know he’s crazy smart? Like… graduated 4th in our class, went to Brown undergrad and Columbia graduate, smart.”

Aaron’s eyes go wide in disbelief. “And this is the same guy who, completely sober, tried putting his mattress in the pool so that he didn’t have to sleep in his own dorm?”

“The very same one. He’s like a lobbyist now or something for some activist group.”

“Wow, I did not expect that. Do you remember when he got so high that he thought his joint was going to catch the dorms on fire?” Aaron asks, the words barely discernible through his laughter. “So he warned campus police that the whole school was going to burn down.”

“Yes!” you giggle, your head thrown back in laughter. “They thought it was an arson threat and they had to evacuate the whole school. I was taking an English final during that.”

Aaron’s shoulder pressing against yours makes a shiver run down your spine. You idly wonder how much closer he can get to you if he really tried.

As if reading your mind, Aaron turns towards you a little more so that your knees are touching and you can feel his breath on the side of your neck. “We went to the beach that weekend,” he says quietly, unwilling to break eye contact with you. “Drank cheap beer. You got stung by a jellyfish. I had to carry you back to the car.”

No, no. You were not about to fall for Aaron Hotchner’s charm again that easily. Not again. It took you too long to get over him the first time. Still, you were leaning closer to Aaron, and Aaron was leaning in towards you, and your noses brushed as you tilt your head to the side ever so slightly and—

And his phone rings. Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips one last time before pulling away, giving you an apologetic look.

“Hotchner,” he answers, and you pull your coat tighter around yourself as realization sinks into you. You feel like you’re 17 again, desperately waiting for Aaron to ask you to prom, only to hide in your dorm for days on end when he asked Haley Brooks.

When Aaron hangs up, he immediately reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, setting enough cash on the table to cover the tab and tip. “That was work. We have to fly out to Arizona. I’m sorry.”

You nod understandingly. “Gotta catch the bad guys. When do you leave?”

It’s silent for a few torturous moments before he finally answers. “An hour, at most. We brief at the office and then get on the plane.”

“Wow,” you breathe. “You weren’t kidding when you said that you live out of your suitcase. Can I walk back with you, at least?”

Aaron smiles, a small smile that makes you wonder how often he actually smiles now. It used to be a lot, but from what he’s told you, it seems like he’s had a rough go of it the last couple of years, and has a lot less to smile about. It makes you sad because when you were traveling the world, his smile was the one thing you missed the most.

“I’d really like that.”

The two of you make small talk on the way back, swapping stories about Jack and your various adventures around the globe. The autumn air is crisp with leaves falling all around you. At one point, there was a big gust of wind, and leaves and pine needles got blown onto the two of you, and you took your sweet time running your fingers through his hair, bushing it all off him.

When you get to the entrance of the FBI building, neither one of you says anything. You just stand there, both unwilling to say goodbye. You turn to face each other, just as close as you were in the diner booth.

“Oh, you have a…” Aaron delicately reaches his hand to your hair. His fingers in your hair make your stomach do flips, and you’re almost positive he can hear your racing heartbeat. His eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, never blinking. “Pine needle,” he whispers, holding the offending object between his fingers.

“Thanks,” you breathe, and you’re not sure if it’s the autumn chill or his hand reaching to cup your cheek that sends goosebumps throughout your body.

As if he were magnetic, you rise onto your toes, bringing yourself closer to him, and you press your lips against his. Aaron deepens the kiss and runs his thumb across your cheekbone. His other hand wraps itself around your waist. The kiss is slow and sensual and better than anything you could have dreamed of — and you dream of Aaron kissing you more often than you’d like to admit.

All too soon, the two of you pull away from each other, both wearing matching smiles.

“I should probably… get in there… before my team sends out a search party,” Aaron says reluctantly, pointing towards the entrance.

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Go save lives. I’ll probably be around for a few more days before heading up to New York. If you’re back by then.”

Aaron purses his lips, deep in thought. “You’re definitely settling down somewhere? Done with seeing the world?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Have you… Do you think…” Aaron takes a grounding breath, trying to gather the words he was too afraid to ask back at graduation. “Have you ever considered settling down here? There’s a pretty big art community here.”

You shrug, ignoring excitement building in your chest. “I think my work is a little too experimental for the people of the capitol.”

“You’d be surprised,” he chuckles.

You bring your lower lip between your teeth, chewing nervously at it. “I don’t know… I left for a reason. I just don’t know what DC has to offer me anymore.”

Aaron spreads his arms out at his side, palms facing you in an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. “There’s me,” he offers, and, when your eyes go wide, he adds, “And Stoner Stephen, if I’m not enough.”

A laugh bursts out of you uncontrollably, which seems to put both you and Aaron at ease. “That makes it a very tempting offer,” you tease.

“And I have a coworker who flips houses. He’ll be able to tell you where to get the best deal on an apartment,” Aaron presses as if you need any more convincing. As if your mind isn’t already made up.

“First, I need to know that there’s more than one good place to get milkshakes,” you point out, shoving your hands in your coat pockets. “You’ll have to show me around when you get back.”

Aaron’s lips quirk up in a hopeful smile. “It’s a date.”

He makes his way towards the entrance of the Hoover Building, but you call out his name, stopping him once more. “We’ll also need a new Sunday breakfast place. Since our old one is closed down.”

Now, his smile is one of pure joy, and his eyes are sparkling in a way you haven’t seen in years. “I know just the place. As long as you don’t up and leave without telling me again.”

“Never again,” you promise, and for once, the idea of staying doesn’t terrify you.

“Then we’ll get breakfast together as soon as I get back.”

You smile at him, already missing the feeling of his lips on yours. “I’ll see you then.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #my writing

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thatfrenchacademic · 3 years ago

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hey! you seem like you're a really good TA (? idk if that's the right term but you seem to have some prof/teacher tasks?) and i was wondering how you got the confidence to do that? i'm basically on your level of education but i wouldn't think i was smart/capable enough to judge other students' writing and stuff, i feel like one of them more than one of the teachers if you get what i mean. do you have any advice?

Hello !

That is such a thoughtful question - and I am sure all postgrads who suddendly have to start teaching feel the same at the beginning. In my opinion, it is a fairly healthy mindset to have, as long as it does not inhibit your own teaching and remain just some healthy awareness that, hey, you are still learning many things yourself.

I am very touched you think I am a good TA - I hope I manage to be a helpful one at least.d I definitely still often wonder "am I qualified to teach this ? To... grade this ? Who am I to say whether this is good work or not?" But here are a few thingsm coming both from my experience so far and my discussions with other TA, which could maybe be of help to you (each developed under the cut)

1. You know more than your students, and that will be enough to help them.

2. Teaching is a two way street : you are not lecturing to them, you are working with them.

2bis : Give constant verbal feedback to your students !

3. Your own experience of being an Undergrad may not be the best point of reference

4. Talk to other TAs ! You all face the same issues !

5. Try out things, and if they do not work, it's fine.

6. Organize your session alternating moments where you take the lead, and moments where students take the lead.

7. Help, My students are not talking !

8. Grading is tough, but we can make it easier.

I hope they will be of help, but no worries, it takes practice, trial and errors, and time will help you figure it out. Do not hesitate to come back here if you have any question or something you want to discuss ! (And tell me how your teaching went, I would love to hear it!)

1. You know more than your students, and that will be enough to help them.

It means you do not have to be an expert in the topic you teach. You may even just be familiar with it. But by virtue of being a postgrad student, you know how to do the reading effectively, you will get very quickly what is important, what to retain from this or that reading. And you just need to know more than your students. Which you absolutely will.

I think being passionate, showing that you are excited about what you are teaching, giving them this energy, this interest, is much much more important than being a full-blown expert in your area.

2. Teaching is a two way street : you are not lecturing to them, you are working with them.

And that is not me being vaguely pseudo-inspiration ; it is something I have learnt and truly realized when I took a course on teaching. There is much literature on this, but the take-away is that especially as a TA, it is helpful if you see your job as working with students. Engage with them, offer them different options to choose from during the session, explain that you are here to support their learning, and give them some space to have some agency over what happens ! Trust them to at least try their best - many are!- and they will trust you in return, and will be more likely to give you some feedback.

2bis : Give constant verbal feedback to your students !

This does not come easy to me, but students NEED to be told when they said something good ! Because if you do not tell them explicitely, how would they know that, hey, this was a pretty cool comment !

But also, be clear when answer or a point raised is not relevant or wrong, because it also guides their understand of the topic. "Ok, I can see why you would say that, but it's actually abit trickier...". "Ah, yes, it is very interesting that you raise it, it is a common misunderstanding and I am glad you are pointing it out, because it is an interesting discussion to have!"

3. Your own experience of being an Undergrad may not be the best point of reference

When I started teaching, I made the mistake of thinking "ok, what sort of TA/tutorial do I wish I had, in Undergrad?", and went with what I know I would have enjoyed. Except I am a passionate nerdy introvert who hated talking to my peers and doing group works, and wanted a TA who was no-bullshit, clear, professional. Most of your students are probably not, and may indeed enjoy group work, or the opportunity to connect with their peers during your tutorial. Most of your students will appreciate a TA who is more forthcoming, friendly, and may crack a joke or two. And it is a weird role to have, it may clash with your personality (it definitely clashes with mine), but it's ok if it takes time to find the right zone for you ! It is absolutely part of the process !

4. Talk to other TAs ! You all face the same issues !

Pooling experience with other TAs is fantastic. Because no matter what issue you are facing, one of them faced it already. How do you teach in the shitty Room 605 where the computer does not work ? How do they deal with students who do not do the readings ? How to they handle lack of motivation from students ? What sort of group work do they organize ? Who sort of online tools do they rely on ? How do they deal with all the emails they get ? And on that note...

5. Try out things, and if they do not work, it's fine.

Do not be afraid to try things. I tend to stay away from "complex" activities which can confuse students, or rely too much on technology. But group work ? There are so many types of group work ! Why stick to just the "think of this question in group of 3 for 5 minutes", when you could do a syndicate, snowballing, 2-minutes essay, fishbowl, think-pair-share, buzz groups...

And sometimes, it will not work. Just... a bad session. And you feel that it's on you, that you did not manage to do your work, that you are a bad teacher... And refer to Point 2. Then, calmly, talk about it with another TA. Explain what you did, and try to get their opinion on it, reflect on it. But it is never all on you.

6. Organize your session alternating moments where you take the lead, and moments where students take the lead.

Teaching is exhausting, learning is exhausting, genuinely, so balance out moments where you do the heavy work, and moments where they do. I like to have a rough session plan with all the activities I have planned, and indicate for each if it is "ME", "STUDENTS", "ALL". And also ensure that your students are given the opportunity to really take an active role, which is way better for learning !

7. Help, my students are not talking :

This will happen. You will ask a question, no one will answer. Big, awkward, heavy silence. You reformulated the question, but clearly it is not working. Here are a few ways I have reacted to it :

- Show of hands 1 : for a quick diagnosis. "Can you raise your hand if you have done the reading for this question ? Just so I know if this is maybe the problem". Encourage the ones who have done the readings to explain it to the others.

- Show of hands 2 : "Ok, there are two ways to answer this question X and Y. Can you raise you hand if you think Y, and lower it if you think X?". Encourage some who picked Y to explain why, then same with X.

- Show of hands 3 : "Ok, let's lower the pressure. Who thinks they kind of have an answer, but is not sure about how to word it, or properly argument it?". Ask whoever raise their hand to start, and pick up yourself from there.

- Switch to think-pair-share : "Ok, how about we think a bit about this on our own for a few minutes, and then you can compare your own answers with your neigbour"

- Collapse the classroom : "Ok, I can see that this is not working. It's ok, can you tell me if it is because the topic is not super interesting, or the reading ? Are the questions not what you expected?"

- End of the session clear-up : [once everything is over] "Ok, so now that the session is over, can I ask you guys why it was difficult for you to talk today ? Just so I can make sure I can come up with questions that are useful to you, next time. If some of you want to stay a few minutes to talk about what you would like to change for the next tutorials, we can talk about it now ; you don't have to, of course"

8. Grading is tough, but we can make it easier.

Especially if you are grading things like essays, we can often feel uneasy, unsure how to grade them, how legitimate we are to grade them, especially with the sheer impact grades can have on students. Ideally, you want to have a list of things that are PLUS POINTS, and perhaps some that are MINUS POINTS, and have those strictly guide your grading, to be fair to all students and assess them similarly. I also found that it is helpful to grade the paper, only the paper. When there is a really, really bad essay where clearly the student barely tried, it's easy to get frustrated, because you did your best, and clearly the student did not care ? But you never actually know what happened. Real examples of students submitting absolutely terrible work include : a student who was grieving her mother, a student who had been in hospital and did not know she could ask for a delay, an adult student whose child had gotten sick the days before, a foreign student with a poor grasp on English... When you are grading the 78th essay of the week, it is easy to forget that each of them is from an individual, and we get to judge the work they do, but not why they did it. Even in your comments and feedback, always be compassionate.

#life as a TA #teaching #University #phdblr #gradblr

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atlafan · 4 years ago

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a/n: Hello! My lovely patrons said it was alright to post the first part of my new miniseries here. I hope you enjoy this because it’s a fun story. If you’d like to see what happens next, subscribe to my patreon!

Warnings: angst and fluff, misunderstandings, some smoking of weed (THIS IS A SLOW BURN)

Words: 9.9K

Summary: Harry is 25, and decides to go to graduate school. He's in a film studies program, and becomes a GA for Dr. Casey Robertson, who he assumes is a man. When he goes to Casey's office for their first meeting, he realizes that Dr. Robertson is a woman. The two get along great as the semester progresses, and Harry starts to form a little crush on Casey. There's just one problem...she's engaged.

Harry thought he’d have his life together by now. His whole life he was told if he went to college, he’d be guaranteed a good job and a lasting career. He soon learned, however, that things wouldn’t be that simple. All he wanted to do was watch movies, and review them. He tried making a YouTube channel where he’d review the films he watched, but the videos didn’t get many views, and the few comments he’d get were pretty lewd.

He was sick of working at a grocery store during the day, and a bar at night. He barely had the time to do the things he liked, and he just wasn’t happy. So, he did what any other depressed twenty-five-year-old would do: he applied to graduate school. It made his parents happy since it would give him a break from having to pay off his student loans, and help him find some direction. Harry was able to secure a decent enough GA position that would pay him enough that he wouldn’t need to worry about a job, and he was able to find an apartment with some other graduate students.

So, there he was, enrolled into a Film Studies program, and he’d be a GA for the Writing, Literature, and Publishing undergraduate program. He wouldn’t be teaching or anything, but he would be helping out with a lot of grading and course design. He’d need to have office hours available, and be willing to work with students that have questions.

His roommates were nice enough. Two of them were in biology programs, and another was in art and animation program. Everyone had their own room, and they all had to share a bathroom, but it was okay. They were all adults, and all agreed on chores and how to keep things clean. The four all went out for drinks the first weekend they all moved in to get to know each other better. Harry could really see himself being friends with these people.

He was a little nervous about being a GA. He had to do a good job this semester in order to keep his grant money. It had been a while since he had been in a classroom, so he wasn’t sure how he’d do juggling his own classes and schoolwork along with helping a professor grade for their various courses. Luckily, a good chunk of Harry’s classes would be online, and he only needed to go to one in-person lecture. He got an email from the admin of the Writing and Literature department about meeting with a Dr. Robertson a week before classes start. This was the professor he’d be working with.

He wasn’t given a ton of information on what he needed, so he put his laptop in his backpack, threw on a pair of jeans and a nice button up, and headed out the door. He rolled up his sleeves and the ends of his jeans since it was a little hot out. His glasses were on, and his hair was still a little wet from his shower, but other than that he was feeling pretty confident in his look. He wanted to make a good first impression since he’d be working with this professor all year and not just the fall semester. Harry wondered what type of office he’d be given. He was hoping it would at least have a window, but he’d be grateful for whatever private area he’d be given. He was essentially being given a place to write and he wasn’t going to take it for granted.

As he enters the building, he realizes he has no idea where he’s going. He finds the directory, and sees that Dr. Robertson’s office is up on the second floor. He makes his way up, and takes a deep breath before heading down the hall to their office. As he approaches, he sees a woman with wild, wavy hair up in a high ponytail wearing black, high waist leggings, a slightly cropped tank top and sports bra combo, and was mumbling to herself as she rummaged through her bookshelves.

“Um, excuse me…” Harry speaks up.

“Oh!” The woman jumps. She sets her book down and pushes her glasses back up her nose. “You must be Harry, please, come in.” She waves him in.

“Are you Dr. Robertson?”

“I am.” She nods and extends her hand out for him to shake. “Have a seat.” Harry sits down in one of the chairs across from her desk. “You look a little confused.”

“It just doesn’t look like you were, um, expecting anyone…”

“I know, my office is a total disaster. I’m normally okay with organized chaos, but right now it’s just straight up chaos.” She chuckles. She notices Harry’s eyes drift to her cleavage for a moment. “I didn’t dress up for this since I knew I’d be cleaning things up around here, I apologize.”

“No! Uh, no need. I…I’m sorry, I thought you were a man…”

“Casey is a woman’s name.” She blinks.

“It’s also a man’s.” Harry runs a hand through his hair.

“Is it going to be a problem that I’m a woman?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“No, of course not. I guess I was just picturing some older guy with a dark office and a bottle of whiskey in the corner that he sips on out of crystal.” He chuckles nervously.

“Ah, well, you know what they say about people who assume.” She smirks.

“I’m not making a very good first impression, am I.” It wasn’t a question.

“That depends.” She leans back in her chair.

“On?”

“What your favorite movie is.” She grins. “As long as it’s not The Wolf of Wallstreet you’ll be fine.”

“I mean, it’s not, but I don’t mind that movie. I thought Leo’s performance was good.” Harry shrugs.

“It definitely was, but I don’t think it needed to be three hours long, nor did I need full frontal of Margot Robbie’s vagina, but that’s besides the point. What’s your favorite movie?”

“This is going to sound cliché, but…it’s Citizen Kane.”

“Is that your favorite because it truly is, or is it your favorite because someone told you it should be?”

“No, it’s genuinely my favorite. I’m a big fan of Orson Welles, I think the film was extremely innovative at the time, it still is by today’s standards. And I love how it was blatant commentary on the harms of yellow journalism. It’s cool to think back on how much trouble Welles had with the distribution for it too.” Harry realizes how excited he’s getting, and clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“Never apologize for the things you’re passionate about.”

“What, uh, what’s your favorite movie?”

“The Wedding Singer.” She smiles.

“Isn’t that an Adam Sandler movie?”

“It sure is.” She says proudly. “Look, I can admit that some of his movies aren’t great. However, I’ve written a ton of academic pieces on The Wedding Singer.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, during a time of uncertainty with AIDS there was LGBTQ representation. The actor that played George ended up coming out as transgender, and lived out her days proudly as a woman. Not to mention that Adam Sandler doesn’t use being gay as a punchline, like, ever. There’re always people of color represented in his films as well. And on a personal note, as a Jewish woman, it was always nice seeing that his characters were Jewish. That type of representation was really important to me as a kid.”

“Wow, I guess I never really thought about that.”

“Well, that’s why I have a PhD and you’re going for your master’s.” She smirks. “Teasing.” She pulls some papers out of her desk. “Okay, so this fall I’m teaching Advanced Screenwriting, Analyzing Screen Media, and two sections of freshman Composition. I’ll need you physically there during the composition classes since those will be the ones I’m going to be having you grading the work for. I’m all for helping first year students learn the basics, but I just don’t have the strength to grade their papers this year. Plus, it’ll be good for you to learn how to properly grade an array of work.”

“All that sounds good…you won’t need help with your other classes?”

“Maybe next semester. I teach a scriptwriting class in the spring, along with some other writing courses. You’re going to be taking some pretty high-level stuff this semester, I don’t want you getting overwhelmed.”

“You know what classes I’m taking?”

“Of course I do. I’d be stupid not to look into the person I’m going to be working with. Even though I’m not your graduate advisor, I hope you know I’d be happy to help you with whatever you need. Are you coming right from undergrad, or did you take some time off?”

“It’s been a few years since I’ve been in school. I’m twenty-five.”

“Sometimes it’s good to take some time off, figure out what you want to focus on. What exactly are you hoping to get out of a graduate film program?”

“I want to write high-level film reviews. I was hoping to make a video series, but it’s really tough to build a base on YouTube. I got discouraged.”

“If you ever want me to watch what you have out there already, I’d be more than happy to.”

“Sure, that’d be great. So, uh, where will my office be?”

“Oh, honey, did you think you were getting your own office?” She can’t help but giggle. “We’re not in the science building, GA’s don’t get their own offices over here.”

“How will students meet with me if they have questions?”

“They won’t need to meet with you, you’re not teaching.”

“But I’ll be grading, what if a student wants to question me on a grade?”

“Then they can come to me.” She shrugs.

“Dr. Robertson, where am I supposed to get my own work done?”

“Mi oficina es tu oficina.” She smiles. “You can work in here any time you like. I actually have a key for you.” She opens a drawer and pulls out a key. “Here you go, don’t lose that.”

“What if you’re meeting with a student?”

“As you can see, we have a lovely lounge at the end of the hall, you can go there and set up shop if you need to. You’re a GA, Mr. Styles, pay your dues. Now, here are my syllabi, and you should have gotten an email stating that you’ve been given access to all my courses. There are rubrics for all of the assignments as well, as long as you follow those you should have no problem grading.”

“Alright.” Harry takes the different sheets of paper from her, catching sight of the ring on her finger. “Are you married?” He wasn’t quite sure why he asked, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Hm? Oh, no.” She laughs. “Just engaged.” She extends her hand to look down at her ring. “Been engaged for over a year, we can’t seem to decide on a date. My fiancé is a lawyer, and a highly sought after one at that.”

“Why not just pick a random day to go to a courthouse?”

“Well, we both have big families, and we don’t want to disappoint any of them.” She sighs. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out at some point. Neither of us are really in a rush. We’ve been together five years, it’ll happen when it happens.” She studies Harry for a moment. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have anyone special?”

“Oh!” Harry’s cheeks redden. “Um, no…nothing serious, anyways.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone here. You should go to the GA meetings, meet others doing what you’re doing.”

“I’m living with three other GA’s, we’re getting along pretty well so far. But I’ll definitely check out when those meetings are.”

“Good.” She smiles.

“May I ask how old you are? You seem so accomplished, I mean…look at all of the degrees and certificates you have.” Harry motions to the various frames on the walls.

“Some of those are just recognition certificates. I’m twenty-eight. I did a 4+1 program to get my master’s so I could zip right along into a PhD program. I was lucky enough that I was hired on full-time after getting it. The department really values me.”

“That’s awesome.” Harry smiles. “Anything else you’d like me to know about your classes?”

“Not at the moment. Would you be comfortable giving me your cell number? Anything I can do to have less emails, you know?”

“I don’t mind.” Harry smiles again and takes out his phone, handing it to her.

“Thanks, it’ll be much easier to tell you if something changes last minute this way.” She texts herself before handing him back his phone.

“Your fiancé won’t mind you texting me?” Harry asks playfully, warming up to her a bit more.

“No, why would he? We’re not one of those couples who reads each other’s texts. My phone is my property just as his phone is his property. We trust each other.” She rests her elbows on her desk, putting even more of her cleavage on display for him without realizing it. “Besides that, I’m not trying to start an affair with my GA who should be very careful about flirting with me so that he doesn’t end up on some very thin ice.”

“I…I…I wasn’t-“

“You were being cheeky with me.” She crosses her arms over her chest as a smug smile sets on her lips. “I like to tease, Mr. Styles, you can relax your shoulders now.”

“I think it’s going to take me some time to get used to your sense of humor.” Harry says with a relaxed sigh.

“Well, you’re stuck with me for an entire year, so you’ve got plenty of time to figure me out. Now, if you don’t have any other questions, you can go on and enjoy the rest of your day.” She stands back up. “I need to continue organizing my books, and the rest of this mess.” Harry nods and stands up.

“It was nice to meet you. You know you can just call me Harry, right?”

“Sure.” She smiles. “I prefer to be called Dr. Robertson in the classroom, when we’re not in there you can just call me Casey.”

“Okay.” Harry smiles.

“Oh, wait! Are you free the day before classes start? I was hoping to take you to lunch as a sort of good luck thing.”

“I can definitely do lunch the day before classes start.”

As Harry walks back to his apartment, he can’t help but think about how cool Casey is. She’s a bit frazzled, yes, but she seems like someone Harry will be able to easily work with. At least he wouldn’t have to kiss the ass of some stuffy old professor. Casey’s ass is one Harry wouldn’t mind kissing, but she had a fiancé to take care of that for her. He had to admit, Casey was insanely attractive, but he’d politely just admire her from afar and respect that she was very much a taken woman. Besides that, it would be incredibly inappropriate to even try to start something up with the professor he was GA’ing for. No, he’d keep things professional. He wasn’t even looking for someone to be with right now anyways. If he felt the need to hook up with someone, he could either head down to the bars or download Tinder.

“Alright, if we could settle down and get started!” Casey shouts over the buzz of students talking in her first section of composition. “My name is Dr. Robertson, and that is what I’d prefer to be called. My pronouns are she/her. I encourage you all to be vocal about how you’d like to be addressed just the same. This is Mr. Styles, you may call him Harry. He’s going to be grading all of your work this semester, so you can send any and all excuses his way.” Casey grins and sits down on top of the desk at the front of the room. “Now, I’d like us all to go around the room and say your name, where you’re from, and what TV show you binged over the summer. I know for me, I rewatched Boy Meets World for the millionth time, and it was still just as good.”

Harry was impressed. Most of the time students hated ice breakers, but this was a pretty engaging one. Once the class of twenty-five is through, Casey goes over their course page in Canvas and the syllabus.

“Now, this specific course of composition has a topic, so we’re going to be writing about television this semester. If you don’t think you can write about that, then you may want to find another section of composition to take. I will say, we’re going to have a lot of fun in this class. We’re going to watch some interesting shows, and you may find that you’re ‘to watch’ list will have grown exponentially by the end of the semester.”

Casey asks if anyone has any questions, and a few do which causes some lively class discussion for the remainder of the period. She lets them go about fifteen minutes early. Harry walks over to her as she unplugs her laptop from the monitor on the lectern.

“Seems like the majority of them are going to enjoy the content for this class.” Harry tells her, but all she does is hum her response as she looks down at her phone. She sighs heavily before putting her phone in her pocket. “Everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Just figuring out what Daniel and I are going to have for dinner, nothing serious.” She waves him off as she slings her bag over her shoulder. “How are your classes going so far?” She asks as they walk out of the room and head towards her office.

“Pretty good, I don’t think anything is going to be too difficult for me. I have to watch a lot of movies, but I was expecting that.” Harry shrugs.

Once they’re in her office, Casey sits down at her desk, and Harry makes himself comfortable on her couch. This is the routine they had started since she took him for lunch a few days ago. They worked in a comfortable silence together, occasionally taking breaks to chat. Casey was happy she got assigned a GA that knew the difference between work and play. Her cell phone ends up ringing about five different times. By the fifth time Harry heard the buzzing, he couldn’t help but speak up.

“If you need to take that I can step out.” Harry says.

“No, it’s fine.” Casey sighs. “It’s just Daniel being Daniel.”

“What do you mean?”

“His time is more valuable than mine.” She rolls her eyes. “He knows I’m working.”

“What if it’s an emergency?”

“It’s not.”

“Casey, he’s called you five times-“

“It’s not an emergency, now mind your business.” She snaps and stands up with her phone in her hand. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Casey didn’t share too much personal stuff with Harry about her fiancé. When they had lunch together, she told Harry his name is Daniel, and she explained the type of law he practiced, but not much more than that. She didn’t get into how they met, or how he proposed. She didn’t even seem to be excited while talking about him like she did when she and Harry first met. Casey returns about ten minutes later, and sits back down in her chair.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Harry says softly.

“You didn’t.” She sighs. “I snapped at you for no good reason, I apologize.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Mhm.” She says without looking at him, and going into her email on her computer.

Harry furrows his brows as he looks at her, but gets back to what he was doing. If she didn’t want to talk about it then he wasn’t going to push her. Harry notices her resting her chin on her fist as she looks at the picture of her and Daniel that she had on her desk. She sighs heavily and shakes her head, returning to her emails.

“I have my lecture in a bit, so I’m gonna head out.” Harry says, putting his backpack on.

“Alright, have a good class.” She gives him a soft smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He smiles back. “See you tomorrow.”

Harry’s lecture was long and boring. It was a class all about black and white films, and the beginning of cinema up through the 1950’s. It would be a class full of dense reading materials and learning about theorists that Harry had only briefly learned about previously in undergrad. Normally this would be a class Harry would be really interested in, but the professor had to be at least 70, and he was quite monotone.

When he gets home to his apartment, he grabs a Bud Light out of the fridge, twists the cap off the top, then settles onto the couch. His roommates were all still in class and would be meeting up for pizza in a bit, so Harry had about an hour to himself before he was to go downtown to meet up for dinner. He takes his phone out and scrolls through his various notifications. Halfway through his beer he decides to text Casey.

Harry: any thoughts on Dr. Jensen?

Casey: oh god don’t tell me he’s teaching your lecture course…

Harry: yeah…so is he going to stay boring all semester?

Casey: that dinosaur should have retired years ago, I’m so sorry you have to have a class with him. Is it the early cinema through the 1950’s class?

Harry: that’s the one! The content is interesting enough, but I was on the verge of falling asleep the whole time, idk how I’m gonna survive an entire semester with the guy. Any tips on how to survive his course?

Casey: def make sure you keep up with the homework. He’s one of those jerks that’s been using the same syllabus for the last 20 yrs, so he doesn’t update his exams. I’d also recommend getting a recorder for his lectures, keeping up with notes is basically impossible during class, but if you can go back and listen he actually makes a lot of good points

Harry: you’re a lifesaver, thank you!! 😊

Casey: any time! I actually like a lot of the movies he has on his syllabus, so if you ever want a movie buddy just let me know!

Casey: I’ve got that couch in my office literally so I can comfortably watch movies

A sigh leaves Harry’s mouth when he sees that she rushed to make it known watching movies would only be an on-campus thing. Would it be so weird if she came to his apartment for a movie night?

Harry: that sounds great, I actually have to watch The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari by the end of the week. I’m sure you’ve seen it a million times though…

Casey: I have, but it’s one of my favorites so I won’t mind watching it again

Harry: really??

Casey: yeah! I love German Gothic films, I took a class solely on them in grad school, I can’t get enough. The makeup, the sharp edges, the harsh shadows, it was all just so interesting

He sees the time on his phone and realizes he needs to head downtown to meet up with his roommates. Harry wasn’t one for using his phone while eating with friends, so much to his dismay he has to end the conversation.

Harry: learn something new about you every day! I have to get going, meeting up for pizza with friends. Did you figure out what you and Daniel are having for dinner?

Casey: pasta…have fun with your friends!

Harry: a classic choice, I love pasta

He almost wished he hadn’t sent that last text. She didn’t respond to it. Harry groans at himself, and picks himself up to head outside. He couldn’t wait to stuff his face with some greasy pizza, drink some more beer, and just unwind with his new friends. It was nice being back in school and feeling like your responsibilities could be put on the back burner for a bit. Schoolwork was a less anxiety inducing thing to focus on, as opposed to what the fuck Harry was going to do with his life. Casey would be a great mentor for him. She was essentially doing what he thinks he’d like to be doing. He had an entire year to pick her brain, and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. With any luck he’d be her GA again next year, but he didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself.

Casey and Harry were getting along famously. It was nearly October, and they were already in perfect sync. She was beyond grateful for him and his speedy grading. He was a fast reader, and she was not, so having him grade all of those papers and forum posts for her composition courses freed her up to focus on the work in her other classes. Harry tried his best not to bring up Daniel. Any time he did, Casey seemed to shut down. He’d only ask because he wanted to make sure Daniel wasn’t doing anything abusive to Casey. She never came in with a scratch on her, but Daniel could easily be doing something mental. Daniel never showed up to Casey’s office. If Harry were engaged to Casey, he’d want to visit her all he could, but maybe Casey didn’t like being visited since she always had something to do.

“Hey, Casey, what’s this faculty Halloween party about?” Harry asks her one Thursday afternoon. “I got an e-vite for it.”

“Oh! I forgot they put you on the faculty email list. You should go, it’s a lot of fun. It’s a great way for all of us to get together outside of the monthly faculty meetings. Everyone dresses up, it’s at one of the bars downtown. We get two drink tickets, and the rest you buy yourself.”

“Do other GA’s go?”

“Sometimes.” Casey nods. “It would be a good way for you to meet some of the other GA’s, and other faculty members. You can never have too many of us in your corner.”

“That’s true. What do you think I should dress up as? Like, how all out do people go?”

“Definitely keep it classy, appropriate, but don’t be afraid to have fun. Daniel and I usually do a couple’s costume. We have so much fun going to the store every year and figuring out what we want to do. It works out great cause his law firm has a costume party every year too.” She smiles. “We’re headed to the fabric store this weekend actually to start thinking of ideas.”

“Oh, that’s good. Um, what have you gone as in the past?”

“I’ll show you!” Casey grabs her phone, and wheels herself closer to Harry so he can see. “Last year we went as Bob and Linda from Bob’s Burgers, the year before that we went as vampires, and the year before that we went as Cosmo and Wanda from The Fairly Oddparents.”

“Aw, you guys looks so happy.”

“Yeah.” Casey swallows and locks her phone, wheeling back over to her desk. “Can’t wait to see what we come up with this year.” She mutters as she gets back to her work.

“I’ll have to really think about it. I haven’t dressed up for Halloween in forever.”

“Your friends didn’t have parties?”

“They did, but I was usually working. The bar I worked at had costume contests and stuff, so we were always busy. I’d get too hot from running around to dress up as anything.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Hmm…” She taps her chin as she thinks. “You could go as, like, a baseball player or something.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to see me in a pair of those tight pants.” Harry smirks.

“I see you in tight pants every day, it wouldn’t be anything new.” She says smugly before turning away from him.

“I do not wear tight pants every day.” Harry scoffs. “They may be tight in certain places, but it’s not like I’m walking around in skinny jeans.”

“True.” She side eyes him. “Maybe you could go as a Jonas Brother, all of them wear tight pants, or they used to.”

“I don’t think anyone at that party would get the reference.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t help you think of anything.” She shrugs.

Harry chuckles softly as he gets back to grading papers. He loved when Casey would tease him. He had grown a lot more comfortable with her sense of humor, and they would often end up in hysterics from their banter.

“Casey.” A tall man with salt and pepper hair wearing an expensive looking suit stands in the doorway. He was holding a small bouquet of flowers, and his eyes looked tired. “Baby, can I take you to lunch?”

“Daniel, I’m working.” Casey stands up. “Harry, this is my fiancé, Daniel. Daniel, this is my GA, Harry.”

“Hi, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Daniel says to Harry, then turns his attention back to Casey. “Please, you didn’t pack a lunch this morning. Let me take you out.”

Casey sighs, and ushers Daniel out into the hallway.

“You can’t just show up like this.” She says quietly.

“I’m really trying here, Honey.”

“I only have an hour, so we need to go somewhere quick.”

“That’s fine, uh, I got these for you. Know how much you like tulips.”

“These aren’t even season.” She smiles as she takes the flowers from him. “Thank you, Sweetheart, let me just go grab my jacket.” Casey goes back into her office and grabs her things. “Harry, I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Okay, I’ll probably be in class by the time you get back.”

“Alright.” She nods, and zips up her jacket.

“Do you want me to put those in some water for you?” He asks, nodding towards the flowers.

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s alright. They won’t last more than a few days as it is. It’s not worth it.”

Harry had ended up putting together a Clark Kent costume by wearing a light-wash pair of jeans, some converse, a Superman tee shirt with a jacket over it half zipped, and his glasses. He styled his hair to give the front an extra curl. The faculty would definitely be able to see the effort, but it also didn’t look like Harry was trying too hard. He heads downtown to the bar with his roommates, as they were all invited too. They all decided to be super heroes in disguise, so they made sure to take a ton of pictures before going to the party. Harry’s jaw nearly hits the floor when he spots Casey wearing a Morticia Addams costume. Even though Casey wasn’t showing much skin, her off the shoulder dress was leaving little to the imagination.

“Excuse me.” Harry says to his friends before making his way over to Casey. “Hi.”

“Harry!” She beams. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Me too, uh, what do you think of my costume?”

“I love it! Very cute and creative.” She smiles. “No one ever really thinks about dressing as the secret identity.”

“Casey, don’t you look lovely!” Dr. Lind says to her. “Where’s your Gomez?”

“Oh, uh, Daniel’s busy working a case. He couldn’t get away and I told him not to worry about it.” Casey explains.

“Aw, that’s too bad. It’s been ages since we’ve seen him. Have you two picked a date yet?”

“No, not yet. We both have had a lot going on, and we can’t seem to agree on the best time to do it. I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon.”

“You two should just elope, get it done at a courthouse and then have a big party for your families. I mean, the point of being engaged is not to stay engaged.”

“It’s only been a little over a year.” Casey mutters.

“I know, Dear, but you-“

“You know what’s great about being in a monogamous relationship? What happens between Daniel and I is between Daniel and I, none of this really concerns you, Nancy. I appreciate your input, but it’s not needed, excuse me.” Casey has to bite back tears as she walks away.

“My goodness, I didn’t mean to upset her.” Dr. Lind says to Harry.

“I’ll go see if she’s alright.” Harry finds Casey getting a new drink from the bar. He pulls her to the side to have a private word. “Dr. Lind always oversteps, she had no right to speak about what you should be doing.”

“I know that.” Casey says, looking away.

“Did Daniel really have to work late tonight?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“Harry, I don’t want to talk about it.” She says before sipping on her drink. “I just want to have a good time tonight and not think about it, alright?”

“I can respect that, but I don’t think drinking your problems away is a great idea.”

“Harry, no offense, but I don’t need your opinion on this.” She brushes by him and goes to speak with some of her other friends.

A few hours pass, and it was starting to get a little stuffy in the bar, so Harry heads out for some fresh air. He sees Casey outside with a cigarette between her fingers. As he gets closer, he realizes it’s not a cigarette.

“Casey, are you smoking weed?” Harry asks her.

“It’s medicinal.” She mutters, blowing smoke in the opposite direction as to not hit him in the face with it. “It’s for my anxiety.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to take an edible?”

“Not when I need it to work right away.”

“Did you drive yourself here tonight?”

“I did, but I can just take an uber home.” She shrugs. “I came out for some air.”

“So did I.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to pry into your life, but things won’t get better if you keep shit bottled up.”

“I just prefer to keep my private life private.”

“Believe me, I get that, but…god, I wish you’d just talk to me, I’m your friend.”

“Daniel and I had an argument earlier and I told him not to come with me because I didn’t want to pretend like everything was fine. I couldn’t stand in that bar around my friends and colleagues pretending like everything’s fine with him when it’s not. We’re far from fine, and we have been for a while.”

“Did something happen?”

“The morning before the day I first took you out to lunch he told me he was up for a promotion at the firm…partner.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It would have been if it didn’t involve us having to move to New York. He took the bar exam out there without telling me, and he passed. They want him out there to work on larger cases, as a defense attorney. I wouldn’t have been opposed to moving, but he just assumed that I would. He said I could teach anywhere with no regard with how I’d feel about leaving this institution, our friends, and family behind. And then he told me it wouldn’t even matter because he’d be making enough money for me to never have to work another day in my life and that I could just stay home taking care of our future children.”

“That’s a bit old fashioned.”

“It is, which was shocking to me because he’s never acted that way towards me. He’s always been so modern, so progressive. I think he was given advice from the wrong people. Anyways, he took the job in New York because he basically had to, he would have been stupid not to take it, so we’ve only been seeing each other on weekends. And when we do see each other, we just end up fighting…we don’t even sleep in the same room.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what we’re doing anymore.” Her voice cracks, but she swallows her tears down. She spent too long on her makeup to ruin it from crying. “We’ve grown apart, it’s as simple as that, but neither of us have the courage to end it. I love him so much, but lately…lately I’ve been feeling like love just isn’t enough.” She looks up at Harry who had been nice enough to stand out in the cold with her to listen to all of her woes.

“I’m so sorry.” It’s all he can think to say. “You should be home with him…trying to work it out.”

“I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough today. I told him to just go back to New York. He’s got a whole new life out there. I’ve been to his apartment a few times, and I didn’t feel like I fit in at all. I don’t even know why he still wants me, he could easily find someone new out there.”

“How could he not want you?” Harry steps a little closer to her. “You’re smart, funny, and…you’re a knockout. If I were him and I saw you about to leave the house looking like this, well…I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“Why, so you could tell me to change into something less form fitting?” She scoffs as she crosses her arms over her chest. Her blunt all but forgotten.

“I would have asked you to take the dress off, that’s for certain. As far getting something back on…” Harry takes another step closer to Casey, making her cheeks feel warm.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not Daniel.”

“I didn’t have much to drink tonight. Let me drive you home, and I’ll take the uber back to my apartment. That way you don’t have to worry about coming back for your car tomorrow.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not, I’m making a suggestion.”

“Okay, yeah, if you don’t mind. I only live, like, fifteen minutes from here. We, uh, rent a townhome.”

Casey hands Harry her keys, and they make their way around the building to the parking lot. The drive is quiet. Casey could feel her eyes starting to droop. Harry had the heat cranked since it had gotten chilly. He watches the map on the navigation screen to make sure he makes the right turns to her house. He pulls into her driveway, and orders his uber.

“Thank you for driving.” Casey says.

“Any time.” Harry smiles and gets out of the car. He jogs around to the other side to open her door, and walks her up her front steps. “You gonna be okay?” He rubs his hands up and down her arms to keep her warm.

“Yeah.” She smiles softly up at him. “Harry, I-“ The front door opens with Daniel standing there.

“Casey, thank god, Baby, I’m so sorry.” He wraps his arms around her, kissing her without acknowledging Harry. “No argument is worth you leaving angry like that for.” He kisses her again.

“Daniel.” She pushes him off of her. “Harry’s here, he drove me home.”

“Oh! Sorry about that.” Daniel says. “Thanks for driving her, man.”

“No problem.” Harry’s uber pulls up in front of the house. “That’s my ride, uh, have a nice night.”

Harry’s gaze lingers on Casey for a moment before making his way to the car. Daniel leads Casey inside the house.

“Did you have a good time?” Daniel asks her as they both walk into the kitchen.

“I guess.” She shrugs. “Would have been more fun if my Gomez had been there with me.” She pouts at him.

“You told me you didn’t want me there.”

“I also told you to go back to New York, so clearly your listening skills are selective.”

“I was so mad at you that I actually almost left, but I couldn’t make it out of the driveway.” He comes over to her, caressing her cheek. “Casey, I want to figure all of this out with you. I don’t want to fight anymore, and I’m sick of sleeping alone.”

“I feel the same way. Let me take all of this off and put on some pj’s, and then we can talk.”

“Okay.” He smiles. “Want me to make you some tea?”

“That’d be great, thank you.”

Casey: I’m not able to come in today, I’m not feeling great…do you think you could handle my classes today? You can have comp peer edit their papers, and my other classes can just watch a movie

Harry: sure! Is there anything else you need?

Casey: just some rest, thanks for understanding

Harry had wondered for the rest of the weekend how things went between Casey and Daniel. Maybe he hung around and they were going to spend Monday together. All in all, he hoped Casey was okay. Her Monday classes were sad not to see their beloved Dr. Robertson, but many of the girls in class had no problem with Harry taking over for the day.

As a lark, Harry picked up some pepto bismol and other things that might make someone sick feel better. He pulls up to Casey’s house, and sighs with relief when he doesn’t see Daniel’s car. He rings the doorbell, and waits for Casey to open door.

“H-Harry?” She says as she opens the door. She had on an oversized, quarter-zip fleece and a pair of joggers. Her hair was in a loose, low ponytail with some strands left out in front. Her eyes were red and puffy, as was her nose.

“Hey, I…I brought you some pepto and some other stuff that might make you feel better. I didn’t know if you caught a cold or…are you okay?”

“Oh, Harry!” She wails, and throws her body into his, crying into his chest. Harry wraps his arms around her and moves them both further into the house, closing the door. “I’m not sick.” She sniffles as she looks up at him. “I’m…heartbroken.”

“What happened?”

“Daniel and I broke up.” Her voice cracks, and she shoves her face back into his chest. He holds her close and rubs her back. “We stayed up all night on Saturday talking.” She hiccups, stepping back from him and leading him into her living room. “We watched the sun come up in tears.” They both sit down on her sofa. There was a somewhat tattered blanket that she snatches, hugging it to her chest. “We just couldn’t come to a compromise that worked well enough for the both of us.” She pauses for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “We didn’t yell or argue, we just talked everything out. He agreed that we grew apart and that we still loved each other very much. He was feeling defeated because he felt like he was the only one trying. I knew I stopped trying because I just didn’t have the strength anymore. He’s coming back next weekend to pack up the rest of his things. After we got some sleep on Sunday we went out to get him some boxes, and he packed as much as he could into his car. Five years over and done with just like that.”

“Casey, I’m so sorry.”

“I just needed today to, like, rest and regroup, but I just spent it crying…mourning the loss of my relationship.”

“That sounds like a pretty healthy way to deal with it.”

“Every time I tried to sleep, I just cried. I haven’t eaten all day, I’ve just been in here…wallowing.” She laughs coldly at herself.

“Let me make you something to eat. Do you have food in the kitchen?”

“Harry, you don’t have to. I know you have homework to do.” She frowns.

“My bag’s in the car. I can make you some dinner, and I can work on my assignments. I can even put on one of the movies I need to watch.”

“You really don’t have to babysit me. I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself.”

“Casey, I want to help. Why don’t you go take a shower or something? I’m sure I’ll be able to find my way around your kitchen. I can just whip up some pasta.”

“You’re very kind, thank you.” She sniffles. “A shower sounds nice, I’ll go do that.”

By the time Casey gets downstairs, all cozy in a fresh fleece and pair of sweatpants, Harry had finished making some ziti mixed with some peas. He seasoned it with some parmesan cheese, pepper, and adobo.

“Hey.” He smiles when he sees her.

“Smells good in here.” She smiles back, hopping up onto one of the stools at her kitchen island. Harry puts a bowl of food in front of her before sitting down next to her. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me, would you?”

“I can’t help it.” Her bottom lip quivers as she takes a bite of food. “This is just so nice of you.” She sniffles.

“Casey, come on.” Harry chuckles and cradles her cheeks to thumb her tears away. “Can’t have you crying into your dinner.” He pouts cutely at her making her giggle before letting her go.

Harry eats while getting some work done, typing away at his computer. Casey eats her dinner slowly, not wanting to overwhelm her empty stomach. She also got her period earlier in the day, so she knew her tears had to have been in overdrive because of that. She finishes her food with a sigh and sets her fork down.

“All done?” Harry asks softly.

“Mhm, I can clean up.”

“No, let me-“

“Harry, I’m not helpless, please.” She hops off her stool and takes both of their bowls and put them in the dishwasher. “Did you figure out which movie you need to watch for class?”

“I have a choice between Some Like it Hot and The Apartment.”

“God, I can’t stand The Apartment.” Casey groans. “Let’s watch Some Like it Hot, it’s way more entertaining. I actually have it on DVD.”

“Oh, perfect.” Harry follows Casey into her living room, and he sits down as she sets the movie up. “I’ve never seen this one before.”

“Really? You’ll love it, it’s a classic. Marilyn Monroe is in it, and she’s just wonderful.” Casey sits down and hits play on the remote. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“I’m all set, thank you.” Harry smiles, sitting back into the couch, making himself more comfortable. “You feeling a little better now that you’ve eaten?”

“Yeah, I-“ Casey’s phone starts ringing, and she sees that it’s Daniel. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.” Casey gets up quickly, and makes her way upstairs. “Hi…”

“Hi.”

“You don’t sound great.” Casey says softly.

“Been crying all day.”

“Me too.” She sighs.

“Are we sure we’re doing the right thing? If it hurts this much, shouldn’t we try to find a way to make this work?”

“Daniel, we went round in circles all weekend. You’re staying in New York, and I’m staying here. I don’t want you sacrificing your career for me. We’re not the same people we were five years ago…we’re both different now. I…I don’t want to wait for things to get started anymore.”

“So, you’d rather start over with someone new than just wait a little longer to get married to someone you know and love?”

“I want to marry someone who doesn’t lie to me about a promotion! You didn’t even talk to me before you accepted. It was like I didn’t even matter in your life, Daniel, don’t you understand that?”

“I know it was wrong of me to do that, I just thought you’d be on board…”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Apparently so.” There’s a beat of silence between them. “I’ll be coming back late on Friday. I should be able to pack everything else up during the weekend.”

“Okay, do you want me to stay with Lola? Like, do you not want me here?”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your own home, Casey. Besides, I’ll need you there so we can properly divide things up.”

“Right, yeah…”

“And we didn’t exactly get to have a, uh, proper goodbye.”

“Daniel.” Casey giggles. “I don’t think doing it one last time would be a good idea.”

“I’m not saying we need to plan it out, but if it happens…”

“We’ll see. I really am sorry we couldn’t compromise on things.”

“Me too. Well, I’ll let you go now. Sleep well.”

“You too.” Casey sighs as she hangs up, and makes her way downstairs. “Hey, Harry, if it’s all the same, I think I’m gonna just go to bed, but you can borrow the DVD if you want.”

“Oh! Okay.” Harry pauses the movie and stands up. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just hormonal and tired. I’m ready to just crawl into bed and get cozy. I want to have a fresh start tomorrow.”

“Right, makes sense.” Harry gathers his things, and Casey walks him to the door.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming by.”

“All I did was make a little dinner.” Harry shrugs.

“It was more than that and you know it.” She pokes his chest playfully. “You’re a great friend.” She opens her arms up for him, and he gladly accepts her hug. He holds her close to him, maybe for a beat too long, but he likes the way she feels pressed up against him. Harry was also known for not being the first person to end a hug. Casey’s arms start to loosen around him, and he looks down at her. Her eyes widen when she sees Harry start to lean in. “Woah, what are you doing?” She steps back from him.

“N-nothing.” His face flushes.

“Were you just going to try to kiss me?”

“What, no! Of course not.” He swallows.

“Yes you were!” She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath before looking at him. “Hi, I just broke up with my fiancé, who I’ve been with for over five years, what part of that made you think it was a good time to pull a move on me? Was all of this because you just wanted to try and get a piece?”

“Casey, that’s not what’s happening. I genuinely came to check on you. I…I just misread a signal, that’s all.”

“What signal? I literally just said you were a good friend and hugged you!” She puts her hands on her hips and frowns at him. “I’m really disappointed in you, Harry. You never struck me as the kind of guy to be nice to a girl just to try to-“

“I’m not one of those guys.” He shakes his head. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or disrespect you, I just thought…”

“Harry, you’re my GA.”

“I know.”

“It would be highly inappropriate for us to get involved. I mean, I know I’m only three years older than you, but at the end of the day I have a position of power over you. You’re a bright man, Harry, don’t be stupid and risk messing up your future because you have a crush.”

Harry looks down at his shoes, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I understand what you’re saying.” He looks up at her. “But you haven’t said that you don’t like me back.” He smirks, making her mouth fall open. She was speechless. “Sleep tight, Casey.” Harry turns and opens the door, letting himself out. Casey stands in her doorway.

“You’re on thin ice, Styles!” She calls after him.

“I’ll make sure to step with caution, Dr. Robertson!” He shouts back before getting into his car.

Casey shuts her door, and sighs, leaning against it for a moment before bringing herself up to bed. She goes through her nightly routine, and gets herself settled into her sheets. She knew there was an underlying reason as to why she didn’t want to try harder with Daniel. The more she got to know Harry, the more she’d dread coming home to her now ex-fiancé. She used to love coming home to Daniel and recounting their days, but she realized she just didn’t care about his cases anymore. She wanted to have high level talks about film and media. Daniel would always listen, but he never really understood why Casey was so passionate about her work. To him, it all just seemed like a hobby rather than a career. Harry, on the other hand, had the same passions as her. He understood how stimulating talk about film and media could be. She wasn’t having sexual feelings towards Harry, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the emotional attachment that begun. She figured maybe she couldn’t love Daniel that much if she’d rather spend extra hours in her office with Harry instead of trying to get home to Daniel before heading back to New York. It pained her, but that was the truth. Tonight confirmed that Harry was definitely into Casey. Now all Casey had to do was figure out how she felt about Harry, but she needed to get over Daniel first.

“You’re here early.” Casey says to Harry the next morning.

“I wanted to talk to you about last night. I feel really bad about how I acted. I thought that maybe we were having a moment. I apologize for misreading things. Kept me up all night.”

“Have a seat.” She motions to her couch and he sits down. She turns in her seat to face him. “Don’t worry about last night. I was in a vulnerable state, and I was more affectionate than I should have been. Nothing really happened between us, so it’s all good. It’s going to take me some time to get over Daniel. Five years is a long time to be committed to one person. I’m seeing him again this weekend, and who knows what could happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“We could easily get back together, and then what? The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Besides that, you’re my GA, it would be wrong. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. It’s not like…I mean…it’s nothing, okay? Think I’m just into you cause we have so much in common. And I really look up to you. You’re so accomplished, you know?”

“A smart woman doesn’t intimidate you?”

“Not at all.” He shakes his head. “I think smart women are incredibly”, Harry gets up from his seat and sits on the edge of Casey’s desk, “incredibly sexy.”

“You’re not really sorry for trying to kiss me last night, are you?” She smirks up at him.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you and for overstepping a boundary.” A grins starts to pull on his lips. “But I’m not sorry that it’s lead to you admitting that you like me.”

“I never said I liked you.”

“You never said you didn’t.”

“Harry.” Casey sighs.

“Listen”, Harry gets off her desk and sits back down on the couch, taking out his laptop. “take as much time as you need to get over Daniel. I’ll be right here when you’re ready for me.” He peers up at her from his laptop, smiling from ear to ear.

“You’re insufferable.” She shakes her head, getting back to her own work.

“And yet, here we are.”

“Harry, it’s 8:30 in the morning, we don’t have class until 10. Do me a favor and stay quiet until then, yeah?”

He makes a motion as to zip his lips, making Casey chuckle and roll her eyes. Later that day, when Harry had to leave for his own lecture, Casey snuck off to go see her friend, Lola, who works in the financial aid office.

“You busy?” Casey asks her friend as she sits down.

“I’m always free for you, Honey.” Lola smiles warmly. “What’s up?”

“Um…Daniel and I decided to officially end things over the weekend.” Casey says quietly. Lola had a cubicle to herself, but there were always wandering ears.

“Oh my god! I knew you guys were on the rocks, but holy shit.”

“He didn’t want to give up New York, and I didn’t want to give up here. It sucks, I’m totally heartbroken.” Casey frowns, trying not to cry again.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come over or something.”

“Well, I sort of just wanted to be alone…um, but someone came by to take care of me.”

“Oh, who?”

“H-Harry.”

“Your GA?!” Lola whisper-screams, and Casey nods. “Holy fuck, did anything happen?”

“No.” Casey shakes her head. “He just made me dinner…but he tried to kiss me before he left. I called him out on it, but…I don’t know, like, I…fuck.” Casey pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “I don’t really know how to articulate this.”

“You find your GA, who happens to only be three years younger than you, attractive.” Lola says for Casey.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it. But I don’t want to get involved with anyone else right now. I still love Daniel, like, my heart is still with him.”

“But you also think you like Harry.”

“Well, what’s not to like about him? He makes me laugh, I like talking to him, he’s very sweet…and…fuck, I can’t even think like this. This is so unethical of me. If this were a male professor with a female GA, I’d be totally against it.”

“Yes, but that’s not the situation. You’re twenty-eight, he’s twenty-five, it’d be weird if you didn’t fall for each other.”

“I feel like it’s like when you fall for your therapist, you know? Like, what if he just likes me because he looks up to me? I shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought of this, right? It’s got to be against the rules.”

“Are you his professor?”

“Of course not, you know I don’t teach graduate level courses.”

“So, he in no way is going to be graded by you?”

“No.”

“And he could have easily been assigned to any other professor in the department. There was no special request on your part. And again, he’s twenty-five-years-old, it’s not like he’s some naïve twenty-one-year-old kid who just finished undergrad, you know?”

“That’s true.” Casey chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t know, think I need to get over my break up before I do anything.”

“I think that’s a good idea. You were together for over five years, that’s not something you’ll get over in a day, Babe. What do you say you and I grab drinks this weekend?”

“I can’t, Daniel’s coming back to pack up the rest of his things and he wants me there.”

“Alright, how about on Thursday? We can go for happy hour downtown after I get out.”

“Yeah, okay.” Casey nods. “Think I could definitely use some girl time, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Don’t overthink this Harry thing either. It’s not a problem yet, so don’t turn it into one.”

“You’re right, it’s just been a little flirting, it’s not like anything’s actually happened between us. If he really likes me, he’ll be patient.”

“And don’t forget, you’re worth the wait.”

#harry styles #tell me I'm the only one #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles x oc #harry styles series #harry styles au #GA!Harry #GArry

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andromedasstarship · 4 years ago

Note

i could not choose between 77-80 so i overbearingly ask u to use each of them with spencer reid if u wish 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

80. “Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.” + 77- “If you want to leave, we can leave.”

send a prompt + character from this list!

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - stress?? mostly fluff

a/n - tysm kenna for requesting this i love you and i loved writing this. i also went overboard on this one bye! ive also never posted something this long in an ask reply before so if this looks weird BYE!

Your car had long gone cold, but you still couldn’t find the energy to pull yourself out yet. It was futile to try and wrestle your emotions into a tightly sealed box; as soon as you crossed the threshold of the town-home you shared with Spencer, you knew he’d be able to read you like a book. Damn genius profiler skills.

Taking a quick look at the time you knew you had to suck it up and go inside; you were pushing how ‘late’ you could be without him worrying something had happened on your commute home. With a deep sigh, you grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and exited the car; taking your sweet time with locking the car behind you and digging your house keys out of the bottom of your bag.

To put it simply, it had been a difficult year. It was the final year of your Phd. program and while- all things considered- you had had an amazing time, the past few months had been both physically and mentally draining. What was once your lifelong passion had suddenly started to feel like a chore; a chore you felt you weren’t even good at anymore. Almost every day was spent either in your own classes or teaching undergrads. Almost every night was spent on the final edits of your thesis or grading work from your students. The few moments of freedom you found were spent doing the boring parts of adult life: housekeeping, getting your car fixed, calling elderly family members, etc.

Neither of you had formerly addressed it, but you knew it was taking a toll on your relationship. Spencer being busy was a constant, but it was normally balanced out by your typical 9-5 schedule. But recently, even on the nights he was home you’d be too wrapped up in your own work to even sit down and eat dinner with him. By the time you crawled into bed he’d be long asleep and in the mornings you’d been leaving for work earlier and earlier in order to get research time in at the university library. It felt like the two of you hadn’t even been awake in the same room for weeks, let alone do anything relationship-y.

Tonight was supposed to change that. Kind of. His team was having a fancy dinner to celebrate some major milestone that you couldn’t remember. It’d been on the books for months, but kept getting pushed back by surprise cases. It felt like everyone held their breath this week, waiting for a case to pop up, but instead everyone was left pleasantly surprised when no such thing happened. It was going to be a great night: classic Rossi pasta dish, all partners and kids invited. Even though the two of you wouldn’t be alone, it’d still be a perfectly good excuse to get out, put on some nice outfits and have a fun evening with friends.

Spencer had been particularly excited. The past week, you felt as if it was the only thing he ever talked about. Not that the two of you were having extensive conversations. He kept talking about how great it would be to get out of the house and how much he was looking forward to having a totally work free evening. His excitement warmed your heart.

Which is why you were taking so long to find your keys. Today had been one of the hardest day you’d experienced in a long time. The thesis meeting you had with your advisor- that you’d been staying up late every night editing for- had gone horribly; it was as if everything you prepared was wrong. Almost every student in the class you taught scored poorly on the latest assessment- on a unit you considered yourself an expert on-, something you viewed as a failure of your ability to convey the info. And to top it all off, even though you felt as if you’d spent hours upon hours working yourself to the bone the past week- in order to clear space for tonight-, you still felt as if you had piles of work to catch up on.

You knew the stress and tension of the day would read clear on your body as soon as Spencer got a look at you. And with how excited he’d been, you absolutely didn’t want to ruin the dinner. You’d hate for him to feel as if you were being selfish or that you couldn’t even prioritize him in your schedule.

You took one last deep breath, before going to put the key into the doorknob. Just as you touched the handle, the door swung open from the other side.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, one hand clutching your chest as you nearly jumped out of your skin. In front of you was Spencer, smiling down at you with that irresistible grin of his.

“Did I scare you? Sorry. I thought I heard you car pull up earlier and when you didn’t come in I thought maybe something was wrong so I wanted to come check-”

You quickly cut him off- even though you did find his worrying a bit endearing- by pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“A good song came on just as I pulled in, couldn’t just get out.” You lied, adding a small laugh for effect. It was an on brand situation for you, something certainly believable. If Spencer had any doubts, he didn’t question you, simply moved out of the doorframe so you could step in.

Inside the house, you set your bag down by the front door like you always did. While kicking your shoes off, you pulled your jacket off, smiling when Spencer had his hands already open to hang it on the rack. You knew he had that ridiculous memory- and you had a pretty set routine-, but it still made your heart swell every time he anticipated your next move and went the extra mile to be helpful.

“So, how was your day?" Spencer asked, as the two of you made your way to the kitchen area. “What’d Professor Addams have to say in your meeting?”

You clenched at the handle of the fridge, grinding your teeth before pulling the door open. When you turned to look at Spencer, you saw he made himself comfortable on one of the countertop stools.

“Went well. They gave me some uh, um, some comprehensive revisions.” You said flatly, turning back to face the fridge; missing the skeptical look Spencer was throwing you.

“That’s good?” He said slowly, before adding, “well how was class? You just wrapped up the last unit didn’t you?” You both knew he knew the answer, but was just attempting to further the conversation. Had it been any other day you would’ve found it endearing, but today just wasn’t that day.

You slammed the fridge door shut, just hard enough to be cause for concern. “I thought tonight was absolutely no shop talk. Huh? Why don’t we just start that rule now.” You said, a slight edge to your voice. It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault.

“Are you okay-”

“Yes! I just don’t-”

“If there’s something wrong, you know you can tell-”

“There’s nothing wrong-”

“Do you need to stay-”

“Stop!” You exclaimed, bringing an end to the constant cutting each other off. “Everything is fine. Okay?” You said, unable to maintain eye contact.

Spencer slowly nodded, though you could tell he didn’t believe an ounce of what you had just said. Luckily for you, he seemed to let it go, falling back in his seat.

“I’m gonna go shower and get ready and then we can leave, alright?” You asked rhetorically. When he just nodded again, you very quickly walked up to him and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

---

The ride to Rossi’s was silent, something that normally wouldn’t have bothered either of you had it not been for the borderline argument you had in the kitchen. As you pulled up a few cars down from the house, you caught Spencer staring at you from the passenger seat, a slightly concerned look on his face.

“Stop doing that.” You huffed out, but there was no real bite in your voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked gently, reaching out to push a piece of your hair away from your face. God that was sweet.

You quickly nodded and threw a very forced smile his way, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m fine. I promise, come on.” You said, killing the engine and pushing open your car door.

Before you could fully open the door, Spencer’s arm shot out across your body and pulled the door back shut with a bang.

“Spencer!” You yelped, startled by his sudden movement. You turned and gave him a bewildered look.

“You always look over my head when you lie.” Spencer stated.

“Oh I do not-” You started, but letting the sentence fall flat as soon as you realized you currently were looking over his head.

“Your favorite song came on the radio, twice, on the drive here and you didn’t react at all either times.” He said. When you still didn’t say anything he continued. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me.”

The look he was giving you was making you feel all sorts of guilty. Of course he cared, that’s why you loved him so much. You just didn’t want to ruin something that’d been in the works for so long, all because you had a bad day.

“Spencer,” you started, giving him a very pointed look and making sure to hold eye contact, “I’m fine. Can we just go in?”

Spencer shook his head, externally searching your face for more clues while also internally thinking back to any clues from your kitchen fight. “We aren’t going anywhere, until you talk to me.” He urged.

It probably wasn’t the best move on his part, seeing as you both were incredibly stubborn. The two of you were unrelenting, both staring blankly at the other; hoping the other one would break first. After nearly 5 minutes of silence, it became very clear that neither of you were standing down anytime soon.

Spencer reached his hand out again, gently cupping your cheek; internally you cursed your body’s natural reaction to lean into his touch. “What’s going on?” He asked, voice much softer than earlier.

You were internally screaming over how caring he was. Damn him! You cursed yourself for not being able to just play the role of perfect partner for one night.

“I’m exhausted.” You said, voice quiet. “My meeting went horrible day. I absolutely failed at teaching my students the last unit. I’ve been bringing so much work back to the house I haven’t even been able to give you a second of attention. And now we have this dinner that you’ve been looking forward to for months and I don’t want to ruin-”

This time, it was Spencer that quickly cut off your rambles with a kiss.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, as if it were the most simple thing ever

You gave him a shocked look. “Spencer, you’ve been talking about this dinner for weeks. I, I can’t ask you to put this off, you and the team rarely get time to-”

“If you want to leave, we can leave.” He said. His voice was so sincere it made the whole thing that much more difficult. He was too good.

“Spencer, no.” You said, putting special emphasis on the ‘no’. “We haven’t even walked in the door, there’s nothing to leave yet. I’m not going to ruin the dinner we’ve all been planning on for months. I’ll be fine for a couple hours.”

He didn’t answer, instead pulled his phone out and quickly started to type out a text.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Rossi, I’m gonna tell him you aren’t feeling well and we can’t come anymore.”

“We’re outside his house! It’s not a big deal-!

“Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner!” Spencer cut you off, giving you a very pointed look. You weren’t sure your heart could take the swelling much longer.

“Spencer, you’ve been planning-”

“I don’t want to hear it-”

“You’ve wanted to get out of the house for so long!” You stressed, giving him a ‘duh’ look.

“We can go do something else!” He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Just us, no pressure to be ‘on’ in front of anyone else.” That did sound good- No!

“I’m not gonna be the one who keeps their boyfriend away from his friends-”

“I see them every day. Every day. One dinner means nothing.” Spencer said confidently, clasping your hand tightly between his.

You contemplated for what seemed like hours; though it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.” Spencer said, giving you a very mock serious look; you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “There you are.” He said, smiling to match yours.

You turned the car on, clicking your seatbelt back into place. “So, where to pretty boy?” You asked.

“Well, I heard of this new ice cream place that just opened up. Their ‘claim to fame’ is they make over 50 flavors in store every single day. Did you know on average it takes nearly three hours from start to finish to make a single batch of ice cream? Or that when ice cream-”

You shook your head in amusement, chancing a couple glances in his direction as you were driving. You loved his excited ramblings and animated hand motions as he further explained the history of ice cream; as well as all the random facts about the place he was directing you to. As you got closer to your new destination, all you could think about was how lucky you were to, to be loved by someone who always knew just what to say.

---

permanent tags - @sunflowersandotherthings

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #'stori writes #kenna #'stori answers #spencer reid/you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid/gn!reader

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sadachmesarthim · 4 years ago

Text

bingo fill two: cum fetish

content: peter being a Sudden Service Top, shy!tony, tony being an Absolute Whore

hope you enjoy <333

Peter was nothing, if not a man of science. Above all else, he cared about thorough investigation and novel discovery.

So when he realized what a cumslut Tony Stark was... He decided to experiment.

They hadn't been together long - they'd danced around each other for years, finally caving when Peter finished undergrad. It was a comfortable type of love - something you see in old movies, or cheesy romance novels.

But the sex... Jesus christ, the sex.

Peter hadn't had much time for... self discovery, while in school. Between patrol, double majoring in biochem and genetics, and maintaining a semidecent sleep schedule, there wasn't really opportunity for him to date or fuck around.

So when he came back to Manhattan, and they finally quit mooning over each other... needless to say, Tony hadn't had that much sex since his twenties.

It was generally kind of nice. Tony was sweet, gentle in his love making. Peter preened under the attention, sure - there was nothing wrong with their sex life. But Peter could tell Tony wanted something different.

When he brought it up, Tony turned bright red, stumbling over his words.

"It's not... There's nothing wrong, honey, really, I promise. I just... Sometimes I wish I was in your... position." This left Peter confused. "You... You want to bottom?" He'd never mentioned anything about it before.

Peter's tone didn't help Tony's blush, nor did it make him feel better about the whole ordeal. "Listen it's not... It's not an issue really and I don't... I don't have to. Seriously, if you're not comfortable we-" Peter stopped him mid sentence.

"Okay, no, that's not what I said at all. I just didn't know what you meant, Tony, let's take a step back." His hands immediately went to Tony's shoulders, bringing the older man back to the present. Grounding. "I love you, you know that right?"

Tony relaxed in his grip, taking a deep breath. "I know, I know, and I love you too. I just... It's embarrassing." Peter cocked his head, still not following. "You gotta use your words, T, or I can't give you what you want."

He closed his eyes, thumbs stroking over Peter's knuckles. He could do this, he could do this.

"I... So you know how you got bit by the spider, right?" Peter was very aware. He was also aware of just how bad Tony was stalling.

"Tony if you don't just spit it out I swear to go-"

"I want to see how much cum you can fit inside me!" He broke. With Peter holding him, right up in his face, he couldn't do it, couldn't hold it in anymore.

He slid to his knees, head falling into his hands. "I just... You can go so much, and sometimes when I'm fucking you I get to thinking.. How many times could you go in one night? How much could you produce? A few ounces? A cup? More? Makes me cum so quick just thinkin' about it, even in my old age. Can't stop thinkin' about it, about you fillin' me up like that. I can't do it anymore.

"It makes me feel like a gross old man, you know? Thinking about you like that? About you using me like a toy? It drives me crazy but I can't stop, can't keep it in anymore." He was shaking, unable to stop himself once he started.

Peter's eyes were wide, mind racing to process what Tony was saying. The bite had impacted their sex life - he could rebound almost instantly, and he did... produce more than the average twenty-something.

He sat down next to Tony, cradling him. "That's all you had to say, baby, it's okay. Shh shh, you're okay." he rubbed circles into Tony's shoulder, kissing his temple. "You know I'd never judge you for wanting something, right?"

Tony sighed. He knew that, logically, of course. His anxiety around admitting it didn't listen to logic, though, and it was hard to override that. "I know. I know. I love you. I'm sorry for freaking out."

Peter just kissed him again. "It's okay, T."

•|||•

Peter waited a few weeks before bringing it up again - both for Tony's benefit, and his.

He'd spent a long time digging through medical journals, doing independent research... He even made a (very awkward) call to Dr. Strange.

It didn't take him long to create a game plan: he needed to double his water intake, get more leafy greens and ripe fruit in. It wasn’t difficult - he had to shift around some of his calories, sure, but he made it work.

The worst part was not orgasming. He and Tony'd resumed their normal sexual activities a few days after their... discussion. But Peter made it a point not to cum - he wanted to build up as much as possible.

Even worse - he was edging himself several times a day. Massaging his prostate, sleeping with Tony, jerking off until just on this side of orgasm in the shower... He made it a point to work himself up and then leave himself there. He'd read several articles that talked about edging and semen production, and they all agreed - the less you cum, the more you produce and retain.

So he went with it. For the better part of a month - he didn't cum.

Tony, initially questioned it - but with some solid reassurances, and promises that Peter had "something exciting" in store, he let up. Getting him on the edging process was fun too - enough spice to keep Tony entertained until Peter was ready.

And ready, he was.

•|||•

He decided on a Friday night - that way they'd have all weekend to recover (or continue, if Tony wanted).

He made a real spectacle of it, too - stocking them with water bottles and easy snacks, bringing in a bunch of clean towels and leaving them at the foot of the bed. He wanted this to be good for Tony, and part of that was being ready for anything.

He waited until Tony was finished with work to bring it up. He didn't want Tony to be distracted at all, and he knew exactly how much anticipation can hinder daily activities.

When Tony walked through the doors of the penthouse, he could tell something was up.

It wasn't like Peter to be so... Flighty.

He was walking circles around the bar, drink in hand. Tony couldn't tell whether or not it was a drink drink, but it didn't matter... If Peter was up and pacing like this, there was definitely something up.

"Hey baby, how was your day?" Okay, yeah, something's definitely up. Peter never asked - he always waited for Tony to start - always gave Tony the opportunity to either vent about, or forget entirely, the day he'd just finished.

Tony dropped his suit jacket on the bar chair, walking back to meet Peter where he stood. He grabbed Peter's face in his hands, kissing down from his forehead to his lips. Peter sighed into the contact, relaxing immediately. "It was okay. What's got you all tense like this?"

Peter exhaled sharply before responding. "You know how you... brought up that thing, a few weeks ago? That thing you wanted to try?" Tony hesitated, eyes narrowing. "I... Yeah. Why?"

Peter blushed under the scrutny. "I've... Well, you know how I've been working on that thing? Not... not coming? I wanted to surprise you... And I think today'd be a good day." Tony was confused now. "You... you wanna try it? Topping, I mean?"

Peter snorted. "Not just topping, silly. That thing you specifically mentioned - seeing how much I could make, for you? I've been keepin' myself on edge, saving up all my cum for you." Tony shivered, goosebumps forming down the entire length of his arms. Peter's breath left his hair on edge, his words burning straight through Tony.

"I... I remember. Are- are you sure? Like I said, I mean, we don't hav-" Peter cut him off almost immediately.

"If I didn't want to do it, baby, why would I bring it up? Why would I spend almost a month edging myself for you? Why would I spend a month intentionally eating semen-enhancing foods, hmm? You think I was doing all that stuff for the hell of it?" Tony blushed at the words, head dropping to Peter's shoulder. "No, of course not, I ju-"

"You need to stop making excuses." Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "If I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't have brought it up. Wouldn't have spent so long making sure I was full enough, had enough for you. You know how long it's been since I've cum, T, baby? Twenty seven days. It's been twenty seven days of edging, of producing this-" he reached down, gently cupping his own balls through his shorts "- for you? All of this cum, just waiting for you, waiting for your pretty hole?" Tony shivered at the words. Fuck, Peter knew exactly how to work him up.

"I'm sorry, baby, I just- this is a lot. So much, Pete, you gotta know that." His vulnerability was aparent.

"I know, Tones. We can go slow if you want - we won't do anything. Just want to show you i'm willing." Peter's tone was gentle, reassuring. It helped Tony immesurably.

"I- okay. I want to. Try, I mean. I trust you, we just gotta.. Gotta go slow. I'm an old man, you know." Peter knew it was said in jest, but Tony would always have a soft spot in his heart. "Not that old," he poked.

Tony bit back with a kiss, forgoing words he wasn't sure he could find. It was slow, soft at first - a thank you for everything Peter did for him, for the whole situation.

Peter responded eagerly, taste of grenadine and carbonation on his lips. Thank god, he hadn't been drinking. Something Tony'd always appreciate - Peter's sober excitement. The energy he put into their relationship. The devotion. He balanced Tony out perfectly.

Peter nipped at his bottom lip. It was sweet - playful, but it made the whole thing so much more intense. Tony responded in kind, licking into his mouth. He pulled a quiet moan from Peter, seizing the opportunity to meet the other's tongue. Passion always took a while to build with them - reverence and love always taking priority.

Today, though... Today was different.

Tony's mind was still going steady, trying to process exactly what they were about to do. Peter really wanted to try this with him. It was groundbreaking.

He felt the excitement burn low in his stomach. He'd always had a thing for cum - whether it was his inside someone, or vice versa - there was just something so visceral about it. Watching it slowly drip from someone's hole, sucking it out, sharing it. The idea of breeding someone, of being bred, having cum forced inside him over and over again, without consequence...

He'd tried to keep his love for it under wraps - Pepper had no real want for children, and god forbid he get wrapped up in a custody battle. He hadn't messed around with other men since his twenties, either, so the opportunity to explore this side of him just... never came up.

But now, with Peter - his most beloved supertwink with a refactory period of, like, -1, and his enhanced output... the possibilities washed over him.

He hadn't realized just how turned on it made him until Peter separated them, hands toying with Tony's waistband. The sudden lack of lips on his gave him the opportunity to express his appreciation - several broken moans escaping him. "Oh god, Peter, baby please."

He never claimed to be above begging, but he didn't do it often. It was a sight to behold, and with Peter being on a hair trigger...

Peter reached up, grabbing Tony by the throat. "What do you want, love? Use your words, tell me. Can't give you what you want if you don't use your words, Tony."

Tony dropped his head, gasping into Peter's neck. "Please, Peter, baby. I need you to fuck me."

Peter laughed, breathy. "Can't hear you, baby. Come on, come up and tell me what you want."

Tony looked up, shaky exhale falling onto Peter's lips. "I. Need you. To fuck me. Please, Pete?" His request was met with a smile. "Of course, baby."

Peter reached down and hooked under Tony's thighs, lifting him up like he weighed nothing. Tony often forgot about Peter's strength when they weren't in the field - feeling weightless like this, safe in Peter's arms? It was erotic, it was safe, it was everything. "Oh, god."

Peter took them to the bedroom, carefully setting Tony down on the bed.

Tony reached his arms up, snaking around Peter's neck. He brought them together for another kiss, not wanting to lose contact with Peter.

Peter chuckled, carefully peeling Tony away from him. "We can't do this if you don't let me get naked, T. Be patient." Tony rolled his eyes, allowing his fists to fall back to the bed. "Been patient, need you now." Peter tossed his shirt to the floor before dignifying Tony with a response.

"Don't talk to me about patient, mister. I've gone almost a month without coming, how do you think I feel?" He finished removing his jeans, leaving him in nothing but strained boxer briefs. Tony could see the outline of his cock, already leaking. He was nearly as hard in his own pants - which he was suddenly excited to remove.

Peter, perceptive as always, walked toward Tony and began helping him strip. Now shirtless, Tony reached up to place his hands on Peter's chest. He planted small kisses all over it, worshipping the man in front of him. Peter threaded his fingers through Tony's hair, enjoying the attention. "I thought this was about you, baby. Why you takin' your time with me?"

Tony looked up, smiling at the man above him. "Just thankful, is all. Love you." Peter cupped the sides of his face, reaching down and kissing Tony reverently. "Anything for you, baby. Anything. Now, let's get you out of those pants." Tony fiddled with his zipper, tugging the slacks down to his ankles before kicking them to the side. Now in a similar state as Peter, he felt so much more open, exposed. They were really about to do this. Peter had prepared for this. His dream was finally coming true.

He inhaled sharply, feeling the flush of arousal reach his cock. It was so intense, so much all at once - he felt high. This was definitely not an experience he planned on forgetting anytime soon.

Peter straddled him, shifting them back and up the bed. He met Tony halfway, sighing into the kiss. It was firey, full of hunger - neither really wanted to wait anymore.

Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "Are you ready? You sure about this?" Tony nodded his head, mind too cloudy to use words right away. He was ready about this, so fucking ready.

His face must've said everything - Peter quickly helped him out of his boxers, sliding them down and tossing them next to the towels. He grabbed the bottle of lube he set out, wetting his fingers thoroughly before reaching down.

Tony'd opted to lay on his front, knees tucked under his hips for better access. Thank god for a nanite bed - they'd developed the tech to aid healing times and recovery after surgery and intense (battles) workouts, but quickly discovered the many sexual uses for it - one of which being added support for Tony's joints.

Peter traced over his hole, toying with him a moment. He very rarely topped in general, but he'd be willing to do it for the rest of his life if it meant he could see Tony like this. He was already so sensitive, gasping and rocking back into the attention. Peter laughed, gripping Tony's hip harder and steeling him before teasing his rim. He was so gentle - just barely dipping in with his index finger before massaging around and pulling back out. He wanted this to be good for Tony, not just a check off his bucket list.

Tony keened, hips pushing back into Peter's fingers. Greedy. "Relax, T. Let me do the work, okay baby?" All he received was a high whimper in response.

Peter laughed, rolling his eyes as he finally gave Tony what he wanted - he thrust two fingers in, careful not to go too deep to fast. Tony moaned, pitchy and high in his throat. It was so much better than he remembered.

Peter kneaded Tony's ass with his free hand, mouthing praise into his beautiful cheeks. Who knew he'd be such a service top? Peter certainly didn't, but he was definitely enjoying it.

He twisted his fingers, feeling around for Tony's prostate. When he found it he pushed, gently, redirecting his attention toward giving Tony the best prostate massage of his life. Tony instantly jumped, gasping into the sensation. Peter's fingers were just long enough to reach, just dextrous enough to keep him on edge. Tony fisted at the sheets, at Peter's shoulder - it was so much. Why did he ever stop bottoming?

He rediscovered his voice shortly after. "Fuck, Pete baby please, need you to fuck me now. Wanna cum on your cock, can't wait anymore. Please baby, please, need you." He was babbling, desperate and not willing to hide it anymore.

Peter, nearly as fucked out, conceeded. They were planning on going multiple times tonight, anyway, why not get the first orgasm out of the way? He pulled his fingers from Tony, wiping them off on one of the nearby towels. Good job, Parker.

Tony whined at the emptiness, still so unabashedly needy. Peter smiled to himself. He'd never seen Tony like this before, and he was so happy he was the one to do this to him. Tony was known for his stoicism and poker face - for Peter to be able to tear that wall down so easily? It was a pride point, for sure.

He reached for the bottle of lube again, coating himself in the cool liquid as he stroked. It didn't take much to get him ready - he felt like he'd been hard for eons, and wasn't thrilled with the whole "waiting" thing.

Peter rubbed over his hole again, smirking when Tony instinctively clenched around nothing. He sat up on his knees, easing himself into the man in front of him. Tony immediately dropped from his elbows, moaning as Peter sank all the way inside. It was so much better than he'd imagined - Peter wasn't particularly lengthy or girthy, but it felt like he was made for Tony. Designed specifically to fuck into Tony's hole, and to wreck him as he did it.

It literally brought Tony to his knees, arching back into Peter's touch and begging him to move. "Please, Peter, baby, give it to me. I can take it, whatever you give me, please, just please I need you to move. I need you to fuck me, baby, please."

it was enough to convince Peter. He pulled back, forcing himself all the way back with a quick snap of his hips. Tony moaned, broken and desperate. It was slowly becoming his mo - who knew Tony Stark was such a slut for his baby's cock, for his cum?

Apparently Peter'd been thinking out loud. He tended to do that during sex - couldn't keep his mouth shut, and whatever "filter" he had completely flew out the window. "Yeah? You like it when I fuck you, T? Like the idea of me cumming inside your pretty little hole? Wanna feel my cum leak out of you, baby? How much do you think i'll give you today, hmm? You do the math on it? I did. I did a whole fuck ton, just to see how much I'd give you.

"You wanna know how much cum I'll give you, T? Hmm? Math says it'll be 1000 mils the first time, can you imagine that? One thousand mililiters of cum, in your pretty little hole. Leaking out, drippin' all down your thighs? You're such a slut, can't even stay tight long enough to hold my cum inside. What a little cockslut, you are. Who would've thought?

"We already know how many times I can go. What was our max, like 8? Imagine eight of those fat loads inside you, love. Can you feel it? Can you feel me inside you? You're so tight, Tony, but you won't be when I'm done with you. No, I'm gonna stuff you full and leave you like this, leave you to feel as it runs out of you.

"Or maybe, maybe, I'll leave you here. I'll wipe you off, get you all clean. Then maybe I'll run over, grab one of our plugs. Plug your pretty little ass, leave you full of my cum. How about that? You like the sound of that?"

He did, by god Tony did. The sound of it, the sheer idea of being so full, so heavy with Peter's cum inside him... being plugged, and left to suffer..

It had him cumming embarassingly early. Tony typically prided himself on his stamina - stamina that was nonexistent with Peter's words.

He came, slack and broken, with Peter's name on his lips. He felt his own cum splatter on his stomach. It was pathetic, it was nothing compared to what Peter was going to give him. It was humiliating in the best way imaginable.

Peter groaned, gritting his teeth as he felt Tony tighten through his orgasm. It was too much, he was so on edge after waiting so long.

It was nearly painful when he finally came. He could feel his balls tighten, feel the fluid flowing through him and spraying out the other side. He felt like a fucking firehose, orgasm lasting nearly a full minute.

He felt like a popped balloon after, useless after being so thoroughly empty.

It was made perfectly fine, though, by Tony's rising stomach.

This might have been the first load, and it was probably going to be the biggest of them all, but Peter was still shocked at just how much of an impact it made. Tony's stomach grew, near a solid inch as Peter continued pumping into him. The more he thrust, the larger he got - Peter continued to thrust into him until it was painful.

When he pulled out, a healthy amount surged from Tony's abused hole, covering the sheets beneath them. Peter snagged a towel in time to catch it, not wanting it to soak through to the mattress. It took several to handle the mess in front of him, and by the time he was done Tony was nearly asleep.

Peter stood, walking over to their dresser. He opened the top drawer, removing one of their smaller plugs. There was zero resistence when he slid it inside Tony, preventing the rest of him from escaping.

Tony hummed, content. "When do you think you'll be ready to go again? Because I definitely need a nap." He hadn't opened his eyes, but he still blindly reached out for Peter.

He smiled, sinking down into Tony's arms. "Wake me up when you do. I'll be ready."

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pop-punklouis · 2 years ago

Note

Hi babe 💗

(I'm answering both of yours in this one) it's fine! I figured you'd be resting up from the trip, I just wanted you to have a message anyways! I hope you managed to get in some nice relaxed time.

Oh yes. We form a good chunk of ourselves when we're young through observation. You grow up and you can see the ways in which you often mirror your parents, it's crazy.

I get that though. Somedays when I wanna read I get through like a few pages and I fall asleep. Or I'm just not in the mental space to read even though reading is my absolute fav thing to do. Maybe you'll find a better time to read if you wanted to, someday, y'know?

Ahhh okay this is a reminder to send pictures of your cats! One of them is a Persian-angora mix and the other is a lil tuxedo cat. They are lowkey enemies even though it's much better than it used to be but you're never gonna catch them becoming friends :((

Stop I love supernatural/paranormal stuff! It's endlessly fascinating to me and I honestly should be delving into it deeper but I often feel like I've too many things I wanna do and too little time. Those are all such cool interests! Umm I love love love psychology. Quite passionate about writing, I suppose. Spirituality. Ooh and space!!

Second ask: thank youuu I mostly just plan on pulling my fic together and maybe reading!

Ahh I've always wanted to play the guitar! Even had bought one but never got around to it rip. Cross stitching, that's pretty cool!! Used to cross stitch a tiny bit. And I kinda wish I had gotten like, art classes of some sort bc I do paint but I've zero training and I'd love some. If I could sketch?? I'd be untouchable. And learning any musical instrument really.

Today's question: what is a very fond memory of yours?

Have a wonderful day love xx

~🌱

HIIIII i just woke up. i pulled an all nighter last night to finish some orders for my shop so i didn’t go to sleep until 5 AM 💀

but! yes, fic used to be a big part of my fandom experience when i was younger so i miss it sometimes yk the nostalgia of it all. wishing you all the best with pulling your fic together 🤍🥺

both of my indoor cats are enemies so i completely get that dynamic lmao but my younger cat likes to bully my older cat more than anything else rip your cats sound so pretty though 💕 here are mine as promised!! (elvis, jagger, dorian, keanu) 🌼

i’m so glad we share that same love for the supernatural/paranormal. it’s just an endless pit of knowledge and intrigue. i can never get enough of it. oooo psychology is a good one. if i had taken one more psych course in undergrad i would’ve minored in psychology which is funny bc all i did was take those classes as electives bc i was interested in them. what’s your favorite interest in psychology? criminal psychology and abnormal psychology are two of mine 👁 and spiritually and space!!!!! yes i also love both of those as well. i used to be a huge space buff when i was younger ✨

playing an instrument takes so much dedication and motivation. two things i did not have growing up lmao i love that you bought a guitar but never played it. very big me energy djdkdkd i had to sell my keyboard bc of the same exact reason years ago. painting would be a dream to be talented in. any type of art actually, but yeah painting would be super cool. the power one holds with a paintbrush astonishes me sometimes ❤️‍🩹

hmmm i think one of my fondest memories is when i went to my first concert. 10 years old going to see hannah montana and the jonas brothers. it’s what turned me on to music and live music as a whole. never stopped breathing it since then 👐🏼 how about you? what’s one of your fondest memories? x

hope you have a great tuesday, love!! 🔮

#holiday pal 1 #grey

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awesomerextyphoon · 4 years ago

Text

Slit Reflection

This is my entry for @jtargaryen18’s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Mine was Sam Wilson. Credit for dividers goes to @firefly-graphics. Check them out!

Summary: You’ve always loved Halloween, especially the haunted house at the edge of the woods. So happens when the ‘Star Spangled Trio’ enters the mix?

Pairing: Demon King!Sam Wilson x Black!Reader (Fem)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3,054

Warning: Kidnapping, Forced Marriage, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Stalking, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Torture, and Non-Con/Dub-Con Smut. You have been warned.

Back to Masterlist

You’ve always loved Halloween. It was your birthday and the haunted house at the edge of the woods gave the best spooks and thrills. It was your first Halloween after undergrad and this year was different.

The Star Spangled Trio were celebrity guests and they were bringing two of the old rooms back!

It took you six days to get a ticket. You tried getting one online, every shop in town, but got nothing.

Finally, a new face at the library took pity on you and gave you the last ticket along with a book on demon folklore. You thanked the new librarian and rushed out of the building. Had you looked back you would’ve noticed a smirk on their face and their sclera and pupils turning black and gold respectively.

Halloween—the day of your birth—was here, and it was shit. Your toothbrush broke, your car refused to start, the job that you desperately wanted was dashed by yet another rejection email, and both your student loan and rent checks bounced. You just need to get through today.

You missed the cutoff, but got in because the person working the line was a family friend. Anxiously, you wait in line wondering how the haunted house in your small ass town managed to nab the Star Spangled Trio when you noticed the excited expressions of the people leaving. Now you’re super anxious.

By the time you entered the haunted house, you’re doing the breathing exercises to calm yourself. This was it! You were finally going to meet your all time heroes (and possible spank bank entries)!

The first few rooms were your typical haunted house fare which you loved, but were secondary to your excitement in seeing your heroes. Maybe you could get an autograph and hug from them!

You were about to follow the person in front of you into the haunted house’s hospital room when you noticed a light flickering to your left. It revealed a door done in the Neo-classical design with some Latin text engraved in the middle (had you studied Latin , you would’ve known that the text read “Reveal yourself, my beloved”).

Opening the door, you saw that it lead to the Hall of Mirrors. This part of the haunted house was always a favorite of yours, but both the itinerary and the ticket worker said that it was closed this year. The hall itself was chillingly quite and pristine as if no one else had stepped foot inside this season.

All of the mirrors looked standard for the haunted house; some of them made you laugh or briefly catch your breath. The one at the end of the hall caught you off-guard. It was at least 12ft (about 3.66m) high with intricate carvings of characters out of dark folklore and a single diagonal slit.

You were about to turn away when you saw nothing thinking it was a small haunted house joke at your expense when the mirror flashed.

In your place was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, but it still looked like you..sort of. Your hair was long, luxurious and gently flowing. Your eyebrows, eyelashes, and nails were immaculate. Your nose was adorably broad and your lips were sensually full (the type of full women would shell hundred’s if not thousands of dollars for). You wore a diadem with thick gold chains ladened with diamonds, onyx, and rubies and around your neck was a ruby and onyx amulet. You were dressed in a loose, yet sleeveless form-fitting Vivaldi red gown with hints of fiery red and a thin rosewood colored shoulder veil connected to the dress by a ruby broach in the middle of your cleavage.

You looked about four or five inches taller and the mirror version of you made you feel nervous about your curves being out on display.

Curious, you reached out to touch the mirror. Your hand was less than a centimeter away when your mirrored self opened it eyes. Suddenly, it grew curved horns and its eyes glowed pale gold.

The mirrored version of you grabbed your outstretched arm and dragged you through the mirror all while you screamed hoping someone would come to your rescue, but to no avail.

Samael, or ‘Sam’ was notified of your departure and the trio had to excuse themselves from the festivities to congratulate Sam on finding his bride.

You woke up with a start and shout clawing the air but stopped once you realized that you weren’t falling anymore. Instead, you were in a huge, opulent room filled with treasures that not even Windsor Castle had. Curiosity seemed to have taken hold of you because you walked out onto the connecting balcony to find that you were on a different planet/dimension/realm, whatever!

There were floating landmasses (the smallest of which was the size of your small town) and five planets ranging from Moonbow Gold to Venetian Red in color.

You thought about where the fuck you were and how you could get back home when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

The source of the voice was a demon with Antique Ruby skin with reddish gray undertones and Cinnabar and Rosewood colored hair. She had two short outward curved horns with a gold chain and aquamarine teardrop connecting them. Her eyes were an inviting aqua blue eyes with a dark red sclera.

“Hello! My name is Scheherazade, but you can call me Sherry. I’m your Lady in Waiting. I’ve brought some food.” Sherry offered as she set the tray of food on a small table next to a dresser.

You smiled cautiously at your new elevated handmaiden,”Do you know why I’m-”

“Oh, I almost forgot! We need to get you ready for your presentation!”

The Fuck?!

“What do you mean ‘presentation’?,” you asked as nicely as possible, but reality came out more like a demand.

Sherry stopped her ministrations and faced you,”Well, when the monarch, crown prince, or princess declares their mate, they are presented to the royal court,” she then returned to her task of finding a suitable dress for you not catching the mortified expression on your face.

This day can’t get any worse. Wait?

“What time is it?”

“Oh, yes, It’s pretty much always night here. The sun only comes out for three hours. Would you look at the time! Everyone’s waiting!”

“One last question,” you started as Sherry began dressing you,”Who am I marrying?”

“Why my second cousin, King Samael, one of the Three Demon Kings, of course!”

You fought the impulse to faint.

It took thirty minutes for Sherry to make you look unrecognizable. Thankful for her assistance, you followed the floating torches to the throne room. The throne room was an enormous room with high wide vaulted arches, delicately carved pillars and columns, and a small bridge connecting the ground at the door to the center. The court comprised of beautiful yet fearsome demons of all shapes and sizes.

The king himself was seated on a grand, ornate throne atop a huge dais with at least 25 steps. He seemed familiar.

As soon as you were passed the threshold, the king raised his head and everyone stopped talking and cleared a path for you. Several courtiers whispered as you striddled towards the dais. When you finally reached the dais, the king got off his throne and walked down the steps to greet you.

You almost face-palmed. The king was Sam Wilson! Or at least, looked like him.

Sam for his part was devastatingly handsome. He had a tall, powerful build, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, muscular thighs, short well-kept hair and beard with surprisingly kind eyes.

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” Sam uttered as he pulled you in for a hug. You could’ve sworn he sniffed your hair, but you didn’t want to go into that right now.

“Everyone!” The court turned to the throne,” Thank you for coming. I have finally found my bride. We will be married tomorrow night!” Sam exclaimed to thunderous cheers and applause. He slipped on a magnificent ruby and diamond engagement ring with a black gold band.

You could not believe this, “I can’t-,” you started, but Sam discreetly grabbed your wrist, “Pre-wedding jitters,” and led you to a side room.

You expected him to hit or yell at you like so many other royals in a similar setting, but instead he gave a sad smile and asked if you were truly happy in your old life. You thought about your crushing debt, little to no job prospects, both parents dead, no friends and you had to admit your life did suck, but he didn’t get to decide.

Disappointed, Sam casted a small compliance spell and pulled you in for a kiss. Your pupils blew out in lust and you lost yourself. When he finally decided to break for air, Sam stated that you will be his bride and he will not be denied any longer. You smiled and gave him a short but passionate kiss. He moaned but had to end it before he went too far.

Tomorrow night he promised himself.

He quickly called for Sherry to return you to your quarters.

Sherry woke you up the next ‘morning’ with a small army of beauty experts and maids.

“Rise and shine, Your Grace! We’ve got a bride to present!” Sherry proclaimed.

Damn it! It wasn’t a nightmare.

They managed to stuff you into a marvel of a wedding dress. It was a Torch Red long-sleeved mermaid wedding dress with soft yet detailed lace work made to look like an enchanted forest, diamond, dark ruby and pearl beads, and a floor length train. On your head was a black gold spiked sunburst goddess with deep ruby roses and a simple ruby teardrop chain that rested on your forehead, the ends of which were wrapped around your horns.

“Not even Lilith could compare, Your Grace!” Sherry gushed at her handiwork.

The wedding procession and ceremony was done in a swift fashion as Sam didn’t want to wait much longer. The vows were short as well. You wanted to object, call for help, anything but a voice in the back of your mind beat you to it.

A couple hours into the wedding festivities, Sam announced that it was time for he and his new queen to retire and led you to his quarters. It’s the fanciest suite you’ve ever seen dripping with luxurious reds, violets, and obsidian.

In all your awing of Sam’s quarters, you failed to notice him approaching you in only a simple loose shirt and trousers. He gently put his hands on your exposed shoulders,”Alone at last, my love.”

You recoiled, “Can’t we wait for a few days? It’s just…” you trailed off as soon as his jovial expression vanished replaced with something darker and hungrier.

“I’ve waited for so long to have you here with me, love,” Sam confessed while you moved towards the exit,”and I will not be denied any longer!”

In an instant, Sam pulled you in for a demanding kiss. He pushed his tongue past your lips moaning when your tongue tepidly danced with his own and from the sweet taste of your mouth. He pushed you onto a bed that had to three times the size of a California King and his lips moved jaw and neck, egged on by needy whimpers and moans.

He took his time ripping off your gown, enjoying the view like a child on Christmas, ”Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Utter perfection,” Sam murmured as he watched your breasts bounced free. He alternated between sucking and pinching your nipples with his hands and mouth,”I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered in your left ear and he continued to play with your breasts like a concert-level musician. All the while moaned and cried out feeling pleasure you never thought possible.

Once satisfied with his handiwork with your chest, Sam’s hands roamed over your stomach and hips followed by strategically placed butterfly kisses that made you squirm. He tore off the last of your wedding gown causing you to hiss at the sudden sensation of cold air touching your pussy.

You used your last bit of willpower to plead, “Please stop! I’ve never-,” Sam stopped and raised his head to look at you.

“I know, love. I’ll be your first and only,” and with that, he gives your folds one long, slow lick and growled at your sweet and tangy taste, “I’ve wondered how you’d taste. You’re even better than the best Kharian wine. I could get used to this.”

He dove back in and played your pussy for all it was worth. His tongue worked its magic stroking and circling your clit sending you higher and higher into euphoria. Sam kept you right on the edge of an orgasm, just enough to beg for release.

“Say you’re mine!,” you mewled in response, to blissed out to use words. “Say it or I’ll leave!”

“Please let me cum, My King!” you cried out when he thrusted two fingers into your pussy.

“That’s a good girl. Now,”Sam started as he vigorously rubbed your pussy,”cum for me, love.”

Your orgasm came like a tsunami and Sam made sure finish his feast.

You got out of your post-oral haze to see Sam looming over in all his naked glory. His body must’ve been made by the gods because it was divine. His frame was an ode to sexiness wrapped in sinful warm sepia skin.

Sam caught you biting your lower lip and cocked his head, “Like what you see?”

Damn that cocky bastard, but damn if he wasn’t right. Part of you wanted to fuck his brains out…and that was before you saw his cock. Standing proud and erect with angry veins, his cock had to be the biggest you’ve ever seen (not like you had much exposure, just a few pornos).

Sam crawled up to you, lifted your chin and gave a soft kiss on the lips sensing your unease, “Relax, love,” He then lined his cock to your entrance and slid in as gently as he could.

You hissed from the pain, he was just so damn big. Sam praised you on how well you fit around him like ‘you were made for him’. Once the pain subsided, you bucked your hips into his causing him to moan at the sensation. He smiled at your eagerness and picked up the pace, making his thrusts come out to just the tip was in you and slamming back into you. You cried out his name each time he filled you to the hilt, pleading with him to go faster. Soon he reached your G-Spot causing to orgasm again, this time with you crossing your eyes and coming with a squirt.

Not too long after your second orgasm, Sam came with an otherworldly roar and glowing bright gold eyes shooting rope after rope of thick cum into your womb. He then flipped you onto your stomach and forced you onto your hands and knees so that he could take you from behind.

He got ten orgasms from you, each one more mind-blowing than the last. Once he was satisfied, he let you sleep.

“Soon you will be round with my seed, and we will have many children. I can’t wait.”

Ah hour after you closed your eyes, Sam left his, now yours, quarters. “Make sure she doesn’t leave,” he orders the guards although, he’s confident that she’s not going anywhere with the way he hammered her.

He strode down the corridors until he reached the dungeon. There, he found a rather nice looking apartment-style cell with only one prisoner, your mother.

“I’ve taken your daughter. Do you want to see her before you go?”

You see, Samael, Mikael (Bucky), and Stelios (Steve) were demon warlords who began conquering kingdoms left and right 1200yrs ago. They fought their way to the last free kingdom, Kharan. By the time your grandparents were brought before them, they had killed your uncle, the heir to the throne. The king and queen begged for their lives and the kingdom to be spared.

The trio agreed on one condition: if the next child the queen bears is a girl, then she would be Sam’s mate (Mikael and Stelios already had mates).

The king reluctantly agreed. The queen gave birth four months later to a girl, but she was in demon form. The queen had two of her most trusted attendants spirit the child away to another realm and raised her as their own.

Sam had your grandparents slaughtered and razed Kharan to the ground for their trickery. No matter, he was immortal. He would bide his time.

Eventually, your mother was told about her true parentage and form. She learned to control her powers, found love and she too was with child.

Sam found her a week before she went into labor and said that it was time to collect. She promised you in her stead immediately in hopes that it would buy her some time.

It did. She was able to pass you, a cambion, off to a friend of hers who wanted a child but couldn’t conceive and gave Sam a fake baby. He had your mother thrown into the dungeons.

Sam searched for you, but discovered that your mother put a cloaking spell on you. So, he approached your mother with a deal: her freedom for you becoming his mate.

It took your mother three years of torture for her to say yes.

Once the spell was lifted, Sam went to work. He made sure your adopted parents had a little ‘accident’ when you were old enough to take care of yourself, made sure that no one would want to hire you, and saddled you with debt. He even got Mikael and Stelios to pose as ‘The Star Spangled Trio’ with him to finally get you to the Hall of Mirrors.

Your mother bowed her head in shame, “No. It’s best for her to believe that I don’t exist.”

Sam unlocked the cell door with a simple spell, “You’re free to go. Have a nice life,” and returned to his quarters to be with his mate and queen.

Your mother took one last look at the palace,”I’m sorry, my little moon and stars,” and disappeared into the night.

Taglist: @jtargaryen18 @threeminutesoflife @giorno-plays-piano @lookiamtrying @sherrybaby14 @opheliadawnwalker3 @life-of-yn @mcudarklibrary @marvelfansworld @imdarkinme @sapphirescrolls @samingtonwilson @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @pseudonymphet @dahkness @saiyanprincessswanie @golden-ariess @chixkencxrry @anyatheladyclown @stargazingfangirl18 @saint-bvcky @cherienymphe @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @cockslut-padalecki

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trixree · 4 years ago

Text

Feminist, Queer, Playboy, Philanthropist: Why Ironman Belongs to the Shes, Gays, and Theys

Introduction:

This material originally comes from a media critique project I did for an undergrad philosophy course and I've attempted to adapt it into a tumblr post that doesn't make your eyes bleed. I may or may not have been successful. Upfront, I'm giving you a trigger warning for discussion of sexual assault/rape. If you'd like to skip that part of the analysis, mind the red content warning [start/end].

Trix, what are you up to today? Well, I’d like to present an alternative narrative interpretation of the capstone of the MCU. At face value, Tony Stark shows us a wise-cracking, suave, and hyper-masculine superhero. His soundtrack is AC/DC and he arrives on the battlefield in a shower of gold sparks and hydraulics, wearing sunglasses that cost more than my uterus would fetch on the black market. However, this character presents us with so much more than just a hyper-masculine caricature of straight, cis heroism. Not only does he embody typically “feminine” film tropes—such as the hypersexualized “fighting-fucktoy” role, the policing of his body and promiscuity, and the climactic “rape scene” in which his predatory father-figure drugs him and steals his “heart”—additionally, he embodies classically queer film tropes. Unlike most male action-movie protagonists, his story line is an identity crisis at heart, culminating in a climactic “coming out” scene. His character is promiscuous and spurned for it, and camp is a constant underlying theme in his character design as a whole. I explore these themes in two main parts: the femme and the queer. We'll start with the femme.

Hyper-Masculinity & Tony Stark

In order to understand the subversive nature of Tony Stark, we must first establish the typical nature of hyper-masculine and the hyper-feminine character tropes. Before we can ask the question, “how is this character coded as femme?'' We must first ask, “how is this character coded as masc?”. Further, what do these tropes tell the audience about those characters? Ultimately, the hypermasculine caricature lends power to the subject while the hyperfeminine caricature strips the subject of all agency.

Hypermasculinity is defined, generally, as the exaggerated portrayal or the reinforcement of “typically male stereotypes” (typical male meaning, in this context, that of a Westernized man) such as aggression, strength and power (both physcial and otherwise), as well as sex appeal, and integrity. Hypermasculinity takes a keen focus on the physical male form as a dominating force (1). A hypermasculine character, then, would be one that portrays a domineering, powerful man that is above his peers in some way, and is sexually desirable, in that he exemplifies a pornified picture of a male physique. This desirable and desiring caricature of manhood “socializes boys to believe that being a man means being powerful and in control” (2).

In contrast to this idea of hypermasculinity is the media’s typical portrayal of women. The typical hyperfeminine characterization of women in media is that of a passive, pretty, and overtly sexualized side-character with little agency or autonomy within the story. This is true of both blockbuster hits starring men and movies starring women, too. “We had many more interesting characters on screen in the '20s, '30s, '40s than we do now… They could be the femme fatale and then turn around and be the mother and then turn around and be the seductress, and then turn around and be the saint, and we accepted that. They were complex human beings” (2). This is no longer the case for a typical role for women on screen.

The documentary Miss Representation (2) presents a common caricature that a woman in Hollywood might find herself portraying. Action movies with a female lead surely must exhibit agency in their own story lines. However, the female-action-movie-lead is dubbed the “fighting fucktoy” by Miss Representation. Although she makes her own decisions and it is her narrative that drives the story, she primarily exists as eye-candy. Thus, even the “fighting fucktoy” is just that to audiences--a “fucktoy”. She may be “strong” but primarily, she must be pretty. The MCU character Black Widow perfectly exemplifies the “fighting fucktoy”. Her physical strength may be unquestioned, but primarily it is her beauty that is the focus on-screen. Never do we see her fighting in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Even outside of the skin-tight deep-vee catsuit, Black Widow’s plain clothes outfits consist of tight jeans and even tighter shirts.

This is true for both hyperfeminine and hypermasculine stories. Both the men and women starring in mainstream productions are expected to exemplify a western ideal of peak beauty standards at all times. However, where the hypersexualization of male’s bodies is associated with power, dominance, and strength, the sexualization of women’s bodies is linked to submission, frailty, and possession. Hence the name, “fighting fucktoy”. Her beauty does not make her powerful, it makes her a “toy”, an object, a possession. The sexualization of men in media gives them power within their narratives. For women, it does the complete opposite. It makes them objects, even when they are strong. Beauty and sex make them the victims of their own stories. Ultimately, the hypermasculine male character is envied and emulated, not coveted.

Ironman: Femme Fatale

The storyline of the first Iron Man movie is one concerned with bodily autonomy in a way typically reserved for women--Tony Stark is presented as a fighting fucktoy with an unattainable heart. Not only that, he must struggle against the literal policing of his body by friends, family, and government agencies alike. This subversive, unexpected feminine story culminates in the pinnacle “rape scene” wherein a trusted older-male drugs and assaults Tony in order to take advantage of his “body”, the arc-reactor.

Let’s examine Tony’s coded “fighting fucktoy” persona in two parts: the “fighting” and the “fucktoy”. Miss Representation identifies what female leadership often looks like in movies. “When it comes to female leaders in entertainment media, we see the bitchy boss who has sacrificed family and love to make it to where she is” (2). Odd as it may seem, this perfectly encapsulates the metaphorical role of the arc reactor powering the Iron Man suits. First and foremost, the reactor represents Tony Stark’s heart. Not only is it literally located within his heart for the purpose of keeping it intact, it represents his rebirth as a caring, philanthropic man--it encapsulates Stark’s “fight”. Before his kidnapping and the subsequent implanting of the reactor, Stark was every inch the “bitchy boss who has sacrificed family and love” as well as morals themselves in order to be a war profiteer. His “fight” consists of standing up against the same system that had allowed him to amass his fortune. This “fight” is inextricably tied to his “bitchy boss” caricature as someone who has had to surrender love.

It is clear to the viewer that Stark has had to sacrifice love to get where he is in life. Many allusions are given towards the “will they won't they” nature of his relationship with Pepper Potts and Stark’s work is identified as the reason why they won’t. At the end of the movie, Stark attempts to seduce Potts, asking if she ever “thinks about that night” to which she replies, “Are you talking about the night that we danced and went up on the roof, and then you went downstairs to get me a drink, and you left me there, by myself?” The viewers are aware that the reason Stark ran off was because he had received news that Stark weapons had gotten into the wrong hands. Later, Potts will gift him the original arc reactor with the engraving: PROOF THAT TONY STARK HAS A HEART surrounding it. In an unconventional way, Stark portrays the frigid boss who sacrificed everything to get where she is in his titular fight against a war profiteering machine.

Next, let’s examine his role as the fucktoy. This is a more subtle theme throughout the film, present in body language and subtext. I will focus mainly on scenes which present a femme-coded sexualization--scenes where emphasis on Stark’s body does not lend Stark power, but instead strips him of his autonomy. Take for example the scene pictured below. In this scene, Stark bares his chest to Stane. He is quick to cover up and fruitlessly attempts to redirect Stane’s curiosity. Much like a scene where an attractive woman shows skin, the emphasis is placed on Stark redirecting Stane’s predatory interest. Notice the tension in Stark’s stance, the challenge in his eyes and the contrasting pose of Stane, mid-motion, pushing so close into Stark’s space. Stane is clearly coded as the aggressor once the reactor comes out. The same effect is observed as when a woman bares skin--an apparent loss of autonomy as other characters (and even the cinematography itself) takes a pornographic view of her body. Instead of a powerful male character baring his chest in the heat of a battle, giving the audience a glimpse of corded muscle and strength, this scene leaves the viewer feeling uncomfortable on Stark’s behalf.

[TW Start] This femme-coded sexualization that leads ultimately to a loss of autonomy again rears its head in the titular “rape scene”. This is the clearest instance of the reactor--a literal part of Stark’s body, symbolically present as his heart--lends itself to his victimization. Just as a hypersexualized female character with no bodily autonomy, Stark’s bodily autonomy is forcefully violated so that a powerful male figure in his life can exploit a part of him. This theme becomes horrifyingly clear when the scene is examined up close.

Notice the position of their bodies. Once again, Stane towers over Stark, pressing into his space on all sides. In the first image, to the right, he has an arm draped over the back of the couch--a parody of a romantic or perhaps affectionate gesture from one intimate partner to another. Stane visibly radiates power in this position, even if the viewer were unaware of Stark’s paralyzed state. Stane’s shoulders are squared, even sitting down. The position of the reactor in his hand is relaxed and undeniably taunting. Looking at Stark himself, the horror and powerlessness of his situation is clear. His eyes are open, but almost appear to be unseeing. He is not looking directly at the reactor nor at Stane. In fact, it seems as though his eyes are looking below the reactor and to the room at large. I can only describe his expression as hollow--the blank eyes fixed out to something the viewers cannot see, his mouth partially open, his skin sickly pale.

In the second image, pictured above, Stane leers over Stark’s body, cradling his head in, once again, a parody of a lover’s tenderness. He coaxes Stark’s now limp form down onto the couch, having just paralyzed him with a fictional, technological nerve agent. The horror is shockingly clear on Stark’s face and the perverse joy is just as clear on Stane’s. This scene itself is an undeniable parody of rape, or, at the very least, physical assault. [TW End]

Tony Stark presents us with a clear, femme-coded character as his story line draws upon classicly feminine tropes wherein the sexualization of the character’s body is exploitative at heart and leaves them vulnerable to physical predation. In this way, though he is strong, his “body” makes him the victim of his own story. Not only that, his character arc itself travels from the heart-less profiteer to the philanthropic man with a heart of gold, drawing upon another classically femme-caricature of the “bitchy boss”.

Queer Tropes & The Closet

Queer tropes are much harder to draw upon than that of feminine tropes. Queer tropes in film developed in a time of great censorship and as a result are often subtle. There are three main tropes I would like to reference for the purposes of this critique. Within the Iron Man franchise, there exists a distinct sense of camp, a problematized sexual promiscuity, and, ultimately, an identity-reveal/coming out storyline.

One of the most obvious of these tropes is camp. Camp is “defined as the purposeful and ironic adoption of stylistic elements that would otherwise be considered bad taste. Camp aesthetics are generally extreme, exaggerated and showy and always involve an element of mockery” (3). Camp is present in queer culture most commonly in the ball and drag scenes. Camp is the gaudy, the glitzy, the over-the-top, the classic-but-not, the in-your-face… Camp is all of the above and more. This is why it is so easily recognizable to audiences.

The Advocate identifies a series of seventeen queer caricatures in media for consideration, one of them being that of the “promiscuous queer”. Everyone knows the myth of the promiscuous bisexual, even when the reality is that bisexual individuals are no more or no less likely to view monogamy as “sacrificial” than gay or straight individuals (4). The stereotype of the promiscuous bisexual is inaccurate and harmful, and they are by no meals alone in being labeled overly promiscuous by a general audience. The “promiscuous queer” is defined as a character that may struggle with emotional intimacy and, as a result, sleeps around to mask the love they are missing in their life. “Films going back as far as the ’80s British period piece Another Country have featured gay male characters who use sex to cover for their inability to feel true intimacy with another human being” (5). Among their list of guilty perpetrators are Queer as Folk, The L Word, The Good Wife, and How to Get Away With Murder.

The last trope I’d like to present is that of the “coming out” story. Far from being problematic, the “coming out” is often necessary when telling a queer story. Coming out storylines can be problematized when they are presented as “Big Dark Secrets” that weigh heavily on a person until they are spoken. Ultimately, coming out is a choice. Many queer people choose to come out while many do not. There are many people who fall in between--some people may be comfortable being out to select individuals while not to others or to the world at large. In any case, people can be satisfied and fully fulfilled in any of those choices. Coming out stories are undeniably part of queer culture in media. Consider the recent hit, Love Simon alongside Transparent, Empire, Supergirl, and Glee.

Camp, Secrets & Sex

Through the camp of the Iron Man persona, the problematized sexuality of Stark, and the underlying theme of a “coming out” journey, Tony Stark presents audiences with a classically queer experience in film. Take the Iron Man suit itself. The iconic red and gold, the whine of the repulsors, the sleek metal edges and the furious glow of the arc reactor all scream camp. The red and the gold, the opening bars of Back In Black, the facial hair cut into odd spikes, and the sunglasses do, too. Each and every part of the Iron Man persona is camp. “Stylistic elements that otherwise would be bad taste”... talk about gold-plated biceps and a bright red, glowing chest piece! It's camp, baby!

The problematized sexuality of Stark is harder to see as reminiscent of a queer trope. Take, for example, one of the first scenes in the movie. “I do anything and everything that Mr. Stark requires, including, occasionally, taking out the trash”, Potts remarks in reference to a one-night stand she’s ushering out of Stark’s home. Here, Potts implies that Stark sleeps with “trash”. The following scene gives us the feeling that this is not a one-off occurrence. As Potts enters the room, Stark asks, “how’d she take it?” References to his repeated promiscuity are obvious. “Playboy” is an integral part of his persona. Equally obvious is Potts’ disapproval. Taking these inferences of his playboy lifestyle with what viewers know of Stark’s lack of attachments--his “bitchy boss” exterior, if you may--it appears as though his promiscuity is a symptom of the promiscuous queer stereotype.

“Don’t ever ask me to do anything like that ever again,” Potts says after removing the initial arc reactor model from Stark’s chest cavity. “I don’t have anyone but you,” Stark replies. The viewer has a clear picture of Stark as a playboy type who is truly lonely on the inside--who struggles with emotional intimacy. This struggle is evident, given that Potts, Stark’s secretary and co-worker, is the only person in his life he trusts to assist him in what is essentially open heart surgery. His playboy lifestyle mirrors the circumstances of the promiscuous queer trope in media.

Finally, we come to the last scene of the movie-- the climactic reveal. “I am Iron Man”, Stark says. This scene most clearly illustrates a queer story-line. Stark reveals his “identity”, shedding his last secret, and declares to reporters (and effectively the world) that he is Iron Man. To understand how this scene evokes such a strong sense of queer experience in viewers, I’d like to reference another recent in-universe identity reveal in the Marvel Cinematic canon. In Spiderman: Far From Home, the end-credit scene shows Peter Parker reacting in horror to his identity being leaked via doctored footage from the villain Mysterio. This scene can read as nothing but a deep violation. Even the main characters themselves react in abject horror at the news. The Spiderman identity reveal and the Iron Man identity reveal are two sides of the same coming-out process. In one, the character had full agency. In the other, the reveal was non-consensual, a complete violation. It is clear that both of these scenes draw explicitly upon themes that resonate particularly with queer audiences.

To Infinity(War) and Beyond

Growing up, I latched onto Iron Man and Tony Stark as an outlet for my “otherness”. I was well and truly obsessed with the character for reasons that I could not really put into words. He was weird, he was loud, and he was, frankly, unapologetic about any of it. I remember very clearly on my first day of tenth grade listening to Thunderstruck by AC/DC in the car and putting on the brightest shade of red lipstick I could find. Tony Stark gave me confidence. He gave me a voice. Throughout high-school I must have watched the first Iron Man movie upwards of twenty, maybe even thirty times. It was a comfort to me because it showed experiences I resonated with and it showed a strong character recovering from them. Tony Stark rose from the ashes every time and gave me the strength to rise from my own ashes every time he did.

Our heroes can be anything. And Tony Stark was mine.

#thechestnuthead #here you go #yall asked for it #long post #really fucking long post #meta #trixree speaks #ironman #tony stark #marvel meta #analysis #this took a long time rip #if yall want the full paper you can hit me up for a PDF #my posts #trixree gets meta

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