#Strict Professor

[des2dream]

Goodbye Strict Professor Andrew!👓🌹

He premiered in January 8, 2021 and he ended in November 16, 2024. You hate to see him go, but you love to see the impact he had on everyone! I made this art piece to honor him as his story and character are officially getting shelved. Thank you, Andrew and thank you, Saku for creating this character that was meant to be a one-shot. I guess it just goes to show how life works in mysterious ways. One minute you have a one-shot character, the next you've got a Number One popular character! I'm looking forward to more lovable characters in the future!

(I know this sketch doesn't look all that professional or digitally painted, but I did the best that I could, okay! Just to let you all know.)

[stellarislune]

Andrew x Darling ; Rewind AU pt 1

your 'drunken' last ditch effort confession towards the literature professor was unsuccessful. about two years into the future, you end up as andrew's assistant. (featuring our beloved luca ⭐✨)

LISTENER's POV

Large crowds of students, the road buzzing with cars going around and about in and out of the parking lot, and the looming view of the university's main building, looks absolutely nostalgic from where you stand.

It has been two long years since you have last stepped inside the academy's grounds. The familiar warmth of the memories you have had bubbled within your chest. Your gaze can't help but linger at the view. It is still beautiful and majestic, like it has always been.

Two years. It has been two years since you have graduated with a bachelor's degree, and a bittersweet regret.

You clutch your folder containing your approved resumé and application forms before heading in.

Throughout the past twenty three months, you have had a hard time finding a job that suits your taste — and one that is nearer to your current apartment. Your parents have always been kind enough to fund your education, and that kindness has extended even after you have finished college. Still, you are ashamed to not have found a suitable job until now. And the said job is at your own alma mater that is!

Finally, Finally. You were able to get a slot as a teacher assistant to one of the departments in the academy. They posted a job advertisement on one of their main pages during the holidays, and you managed to get your entry in there during the last few days of the application process.

It was nerve-wracking to wait for an email from them since you were not confident that you can bag a job; but, here you are now. Ready to have the chance to showcase your skills after all those horrid months of unproductivity!

You do need to check which specific department you’re assigned to so you came in earlier than you should have. They did not specify which spots on each college department were open, so you’re hoping that you get lucky enough to be under someone who will be patient in showing you the ropes.

Your face warms up and your heart beats faster with each stride towards the main office. The door is still the same old mahogany wood with a glass window at the upper half. From outside, you can see the people hurrying to and fro. Your hands went cold as you contemplated whether to go in or not. It’s not like you’ll be reprimanded or something, right? Haha.

After what seemed like forever, you opened the door and was greeted by a swarm of cubicles past the lounge. There’s people answering telephones, holding papers, and typing down on their computers. It's a whole different thing now that you're no longer a student.

There you were, fidgeting, not knowing what to do or where to go next, when a familiar black-haired man passed right down the aisle with a phone attached to their ear.

You gasp silently.

While he looks a lot more mature in his stature and pose, you can never forget his adorably sweet voice that greets you whenever you get the chance to talk. There you go, turning your head to confirm your thought, and you knew it. It’s really him.

Luca.

The person whom you have gotten close with ever since you started passing all your requirements in your literature class in person in his assigned professor's office. He's one of the remarkable—skittish but cute—hardworking teacher assistants that you have had the pleasure of knowing. You overhear the conversation being something about reprinting old test papers before Luca turns the phone off and puts it in his pocket.

You were about to call him with a wave of your hand as a greeting, but it looks like he noticed you already. His face blooms into a warm, excited smile as he sees you.

"Oh my gosh, Listener! You're here!!!" Luca immediately clings to you, wrapping you in his arms and just lifting you off the ground by a few centimeters in a swift bear hug. His warmth creeped into your own. "I haven't seen you in so long. I couldn't believe it!"

You laugh softly, hugging him real tight in return. "I missed you too, Luca! By a huge amount!" You huff as you let go of his arms first. "How are you? You owe me a lot of detail, mister. And, before you complain, my phone got stolen and-my laptop is broken so I had to get a new one. I was incredibly unlucky, I know.”' You cross my arms, shaking your head with a sigh.

"Well, ask away then, Listener. But first, let's head over there”, he points at the lounge area. “You're in luck because it's my free time for the next two hours~ All that's left for me is to clean up and box all my things in Andrew's office. " Luca leads you over to one of the long, red sofas that highly contrast the beige walls and the cream floor.

Box all his things? What-

"So," he starts as he sits down, facing you with interest sparkling in his eyes, "what brings you here all of sudden? Surely not to visit me right cause I am taken and I—"

You smack him with one of the pillows on the sofa. Earning a snort from the other. He shielded himself with his arm so his face wasn't harmed at any point—not that pillows can do that much damage anyway.

"Shut up, I already know how gay you are." You groan and roll your eyes, followed with a burst of a giggle. "You're so annoying."

"Pft, only because you're my friend! It's a privilege~ And, you literally love me. I'm the cutest person in the world. Your own words, not mine." Luca sticks his tongue out at you.

He's right. Luca was quite shy at first but now that you have gotten to know him better, he's shown more than just those shallow observed qualities people usually stereotype him with.

You sighed and handed Luca your folder containing your approved letter of intent, resumé, and your portfolio of notable achievements. He flips through each page, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he concentrates. You stifle a smile at how absolutely adorable he looks, and wait for him to speak.

"Uh, so.. you're the new teacher assistant who's gonna replace me." Luca’s lips form an ‘O’. You mirror his expression in surprise. Luca is quitting his job? But he loves this work… The pay is good, the environment is great, and the professors themselves don't look that bad. Specifically, someone from the literature department but—we don't want to talk about that.

Your face contorts into a frown.

"I know I missed a lot of things but, what the hell– Why are you quitting! Is someone here bullying you?" Your brows turn into a knot and you make a great show of pulling your sleeves up to your elbows, pretending to size up some invisible enemy and throwing punches at it. "I'll deal with them for you. Lemme at 'em!"

Luca shakes his head and smiles fondly. Raising his left hand and pointing out the ring on his fourth finger. You put a hand to your mouth as your eyes darted from Luca then to the ring on his finger. You silently squealed as you took his hands and began to squeeze them tight.

"Luca! Oh, holy fuck. I'm so happy for youuuuuu!" It's your turn to just jump on him and hug the life out of him. You held him for about two seconds then, you sat your ass back on the seat. "Your boyfriend—no—your fiancé, better treat you well or he's gonna get hell from me." You threatened jokingly.

His boyfriend sometimes visits at the same time that you pass requirements in your previous professor's office, so you kinda are familiar with him. That doesn't stop you from being overprotective of your possibly best, most precious friend in the world.

"He's spoiling me too much actually." Luca pouts. "He's quitting his gaming stuff when I get home. He always, ALWAYS has chocolates for me. And he gives me kisses all the time." Luca's face is flushed as he cups both his cheeks shyly.

You feign chest pain as I clutch my heart. "Right in front of my single ass, huh?" You giggle. "I'm kidding. I'm so, so, so happy for you. I will prepare my wedding gift in advance!"

Luca's face turns into vivid confusion. "I thought you have a boyf—"

From behind Luca, the sound of a door opens. Luca’s head turned to it, and so did yours. You could not believe it but it is another even more familiar face.. One you know so well.

With dark golden, brown hair, black rimmed glasses, and stern gaze, your—you mean—the literature professor, Andrew Marston, emerges in full view holding a bunch of folders in his left arm and his phone in his hand.

Professor Marston walked in long, elegant strides towards.. the both of you. Despite the months that have gone past, he still has an aura of intimidation, wit, and an absolutely handsome charm. His lips were pursed yet his eyes — his eyes were lit with curiosity.

"Well, well. If it isn't you, Listener. Of all things to expect today, I had not foreseen any circumstances that include you being here today." Despite his words, his tone is laced with a hint of amusement.

You fiddle your fingers. "Hello, Professor." You squeaked awkwardly. "Good morning to you."

"Andrew." Luca stands up. His face looks extra mischievous even if his face is still, criminally, looking too innocent. "Listener will be your new assistant. Have you heard that news already?"

Andrew hums and taps his foot. "No, actually." He turns to face you. "You applied as my assistant?"

Then, at that moment, it really dawned on you. It is indeed real. The fact that, You, Listener, is Professor Andrew's assigned assistant.

Fuck.

You look at Luca with wide eyes for a second, then back at Andrew.

"I suppose, yes?" You cleared your throat. "I mean. Yes, Sir."

You blush profusely. Resisting the urge to just run away and maybe melt like a snowman under the thick heat of the sun.

Andrew nods slowly, as if taking the information in. At the exact time, Luca taps his shoulder and says, "I'll finish up my cleaning so Listener right here–," Luca shoots a finger gun at you with a grin,"–can put their things in without a worry in the world." And with that, he left.

Lord, take me now.

Leaving you to Andrew's mercy, like a bunny rabbit in a lion's den. Or whatever. You’re just exaggerating.

"Hand me your resumé. I assume that you do have them in hand, yes? You were quite the perfectionist during your college days, so I believe you'd have them right with you." Andrew commands without missing a beat. Reaching his free hand out to you.

You picked up your folder off the table and handed it to him. He takes it and puts it above the stack he's currently holding in his left arm.

"I'll see you in two weeks. Preferably at an early time. Say, 7:30 AM in my office? And bring your laptop or mobile gadget, along with stationary if you'd like. As much as I'd be delighted to indulge in this conversation, I have some papers to grade."

You nod. Listing it all down on your phone. You watch Andrew walk away. Probably to his cubicle where his files are kept, or something similar. The main office is where they usually encode grades and scores so that's not far fetched.

As you stand up and leave, a faint memory of Andrew's lips lifting into a somewhat triumphant smirk stays for a second before fading away from your mind. It probably was just your imagination.

You opened the doors out of the office and breathed in and out.

“See you in two week's time, Professor.”

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa what do you think is gonna happen next? isn't luca so cute and adorable??? I love him so much. see you on pt 2 !

[beeblelady]

No matter what happens I'm still going back to him

An Andrew Marston girlie for Life

💛💛💛

[ilovegureshin]

ANDREW!- COME BACK-

[thedivinevera]

Professor Marston

Professor Marston x reader, Andrew Marston x reader, Andrew Marston x FEM! AFAB!reader, professor x student, young professor x student, Zsakuva character x reader

Professor x adult!! student, forbidden love, smut, breeding, sex, p and v sex, mention of marriage and pregnancy, obsessive tendency, yandere tendency

Tw : Smut, p and v sex, yandere tendency, obsessive tendency, bad writing, bad grammar, please help!!, OCc Andrew

Sweet ramble for our professor

A/n : sorry for the OCc character

:( it's just very hard to wrote horny things when his literally a beige flag :)

Professor Marston is so mean :( so different from Andrew Marston, your boyfriend who cares you softly. Professor Marston manhandle you to his Shaft, not even letting you have a break, forcing you to jump on his hard cock with his hands on your waist, your poor pussy numbing and completely red from skin slapping and continue Cumming

When he's busy he will make you sit on his cock while he has doing his professor work :| so bored and itching for his dick to move but you don't want to be a bad girl so you completely stay still not wanting to disappoint your professor, after all you're a good girl, you love your professor Marston right? So stay still and wait until he fuck your slutty cunt and let him do his job so he can ruin you straight until the sun rise

He gets jealous when you talk to the other Young professor... A lot :,( asking you if his extra credit are not enough and you need another professor's cock to suck and pass your grade, sweetie you don't need them you only need him, make him feel good and he will pass you and even convince your other professor to do the same after all who wouldn't believe to the strict, young genius Professor Marston when he talk about a potential student so just worry your pretty head of yours on how to write your essay with his hard hot cock mushing your inside after all once you graduated you can be his pretty wife, he's already successful than does old hag so why don't he take a leap and marry his pretty girl 😍😍😍 you don't need to do anything other than to become his little pretty slutty wife ready to take his cock after he come back home, stress because of the stupid children that can't figure out how to live their Life.

He sometimes fantasize about you when you're at his class, imagining how pretty you would be once you are filled with his cum, his sperm try to fertilize your egg and making you pregnant with his pretty children. He promised to himself that once you're both married he would definitely breed you making sure that you will give him children boy and girl, he wants children of each gender and wouldn't stop until he completely have a girl and boy calling him papa. He want to have a big family full of happy children raising them not like how his parent does loving them equally not looking what achievement they can give for the family and that would only work once he breed you successfully. Once the bell ring his fantasy stop.

Asking you to stop by for a moment, bending you to the desk after he lock the door when he said he just want to speak to you :) realizing that he want to talk about your future with him with his dick all the way to your deep inside just waiting to paint your inside white and letting his spermy run for the egg :(

You after your fav professor ask for you to stay: ☺️

Realizing that he just want to breed you: ☹️

But of course you would like it right? After all you love him right? He can ask you to spread your leg wide and jump on his dick and you would do that right???? The only problem you have is how you will hide the dripping cum until you finish your class and finally going home to his place and letting him continue, after all you're to noisy to be breed multiple times in his office and also Luca or others might see you and he wouldn't let anyone to see how pretty your pussy is that's only for him ☺️☺️☺️ after that you can receive an aftercare from your sweet boyfriend Andrew Marston, can't wait for Andrew to be the one who breed you too, after all h professor or not he just want to have you

[hauntingsunshine14]

what the fuck is up with bitches created in the 60s who have differing philosophies and are also gay but nobody wants to say it outright even thou everyone knows. Also one of them is a telepath. Also they know a Dr. McCoy.

[velvolktra]

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙧 𝙎𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙧

[angelyuji]

professor miguel o'hara headcanons :)

miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader

+ yandere headcanons!!!!

professor miguel o’hara would be so OFUAN:EOAFIDNWFBOWE”NJP sorry im just feral for him

professor o’hara would actually be the worst professor to get tbh like he’s a strict grader, he’s super anal about late turn-ins, all that jazz. like he’s got a shit ratemyprofessor rating… he’s the worst. he’s not the type to insult you or make you feel like shit for getting questions wrong or failing an exam HOWEVER he does say that if you fail an exam, just drop out cuz you’re not passing yeahhh he sucks lol

also he has a p.h.d in genetics and genomic sciences (totally didn’t just search up what the major is called and pasted it on here… definitely not) so he’s a huge stickler on being called doctor o’hara

however, when you mess up and say professor, he doesn’t seem to mind it all that much

professor o’hara who obviously has favorites (based on who participates more/does the best on exams)

Miguel would send students that come to him for help to students that do really well in the class (he does not care to reteach or help with essays) “you should’ve paid attention when i was explaining. im sure one of your classmates like (y/n) can help.”

motorcycle professor, office hours are always open for questions or concerns, he’s honestly chill just super strict and mean-looking

however no matter what, every single bitch has a crush on him… have you SEEEEEN him. yall know that scene in criminal minds when spencer reid is teaching a class and basically the entire class was auditing the class becuz he’s hot… yeah that except miguel o’hara is a lot meaner about chasing those people out.

yandere :0

:IBFP(I)IU*Y&^&TFRTCVGBHIK\

sorry

lemme set the scene, ur one of the smartest of your class, you’re his favorite student like ur pretty, smart, and kind to your classmate and honestly…. he was downright obsessed like mf knows ur entire class schedule, he knows ur address ur number ur email. e v e r y t h i n g

ur kindness to your classmates is gonna be ur downfall, someone (who is known to be a cheater) is gonna go to him asking for help on a project. miguel is gonna be like “lol im not helping u but yk who will? (y/n).” miguel knows that your classmate is gonna cheat, but that’s a part of the plan

they go up to you, ask to see ur project and when ur not looking, take pictures of ur research and everything. you won’t know a thing becuz ur a nice friend :)

you’ll just turn in ur stuff and chill. the next class after the due date, professor o’hara asks you to stay after class.

“(y/n), it looks like you and another classmate have almost exact project.” miguel turns his screen towards you, showing your project and your classmates

“what? dr. o’hara, i don’t know what’s going on, but i promise you, i didn’t cheat off of anyone.” you beg.

“i’m sure that we can get to the bottom of this, (y/n)…” miguel pretends to think for a second. “how about this, come to my office around 6. i think i’ll be done with classes for the day. we’ll have a chat.” he stands, rearranging his papers.

“of course. i’ll be there!” you thank him and rush out to meet your friends, holding back tears.

i mean, of course you’ll go to see your professor. you’ve been accused of plagiarism and that shit can get you expelled.

you knock on the door. “dr. o’hara?”

“come in.” you walk in, anxious to get the situation resolved. you see your professor sitting at his desk, but you don’t see your classmate.

“i thought the other person would here too…” you feel a weird sense of dread fill in your stomach.

“ms. (l/n), i don’t think we need them here for this discussion.” he motions for you to sit down at the chair. “plagiarism is a very serious offence.”

“professor, you can’t seriously believe that i copied off of them!” you’ve got the best grades in the class, you feel flabbergasted.

“ms. (l/n)!” he frowns.

you lower your head, ashamed, “i’m sorry, it’s just. they came up to me, asking for help…”

“i understand, (y/n), but do you have any physical proof of that?” you stay silent. “i can… find a way to help you, but… you’re gonna have to do something for me, (y/n).” miguel leans in and you feel that dread in your stomach worsen, but you have no other choice.

“of course, professor! anything!”

eDTRUTYGYH*(J)(_)_JIHUUGYFR^%&T*Y(UOIJL

he’s gonna take advantage of your situation. at first, it’ll be like secret dates, small (expensive) gifts at your door, then it moves up.

soon, he’s making you come to his home, making you stay overnight….

it was raining when you had went over and the rain was getting worse. his house was in the middle of a neighborhood in the woods, everything about this situation was grossing you out. “dr. o’hara, i don’t-” you, hesitantly, walk through the doors into his home.

“miguel. i’ve told you, (y/n). you should call me miguel when we’re alone.” he smiles at you and locks the door behind you.

“right… miguel, i don’t think that this is appropriate.” you look around his home. it was quaint, clean… almost like it wasn’t even lived in. you would’ve thought it was a random rental if it wasn’t for his diplomas framed on the wall.

“(y/n), do i need to remind you of our deal?” he looks at you, and for the first time since this situation started, you felt afraid. miguel disappears into the kitchen and you decide to step back closer to the front door, itching to run. “(y/n),” he pops his head out and smiles, “take a seat at the dining table.” you see fangs in his mouth and your fear grows.

dinner goes by uneventfully, but you feel uneasy as miguel chats it up with you. he had been too… nonchalant about the arrangement, but this was a new development. he wouldn’t ask you questions about yourself, but he somehow knew everything about you. it creeped you out. “if dinner is over, i should go home.” you stand, pushing back your chair.

he grabs your hand, “there’s no need to rush, (y/n)… unless,” he lets go and leans back in his chair, thinking. you freeze. “if you want to leave, i can always go to the board and tell them about your essay.” miguel shrugs and gets up.

“no! no… i’m sorry, doctor- sorry, miguel, i’m not leaving.” you sit back down.

miguel laughs, straightening, “you’re so cute, sweetheart. i’ll go get dessert.” he steps back into the kitchen. you grab your phone and text your roommate asking for help, but they don’t respond. miguel walks out with two plates of cheesecake. he continues to talk to you, asking about your classes for next semester. you gingerly answer his questions and eat, eager to finish and go home. you look behind miguel’s head and notice that the rain had gotten worse. if you didn’t leave now, you’d get stuck here.

“i should get going then.” you carefully place the fork down. “the rain is getting pretty bad.” miguel turns to look and you check your phone. still no response. miguel hums as the rain pelts the ground. he looks back at you.

“any minute now.” he doesn’t say anything else.

“ha, yeah. it’ll get worse any minute now.” you repeat and stand up. all of a sudden, your head spins. you stumble and grab your chair. immediately miguel is at your side, helping you steady. your head won’t stop spinning and you hear your words slurring, “fuck, i don’t feel good.” miguel picks you up with ease, holding you bridal-style. “put me down, please, miguel. i need to go home.” you feel yourself lose consciousness and lay your head against miguel’s chest, too tired and dizzy to fight.

“everything is okay, (y/n). all you need is me.”  the last thing you feel as miguel whispers in your ear, is a kiss against your forehead.

[literary-motif]

All The Loose Ends

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Isaac is overworked and exhausted. You make it better.

The smoke curling up from the end of his cigarette looked eerily white in the moonlight. It seemed almost like a ghost, Isaac mused, tilting his head and letting his gaze wander over the slightly more unkempt part of the garden where the people he loved most lay buried. He tasted ash in his mouth, only in part caused by indulging in the habit he had meant to swear off long ago.

In truth, Isaac was so overwhelmingly exhausted that he could not muster the energy to get himself to care about it — about his health (not that he had ever particularly been concerned for it), about the smoke only partly making its way out of the opened kitchen window, about the headache torturing him for the better part of the week, about the feeling of suffocation rising in his chest when he thought about his work or as much as took a glance at his desk; even the person sleeping soundly a storey above him was nothing more than an afterthought now, another ghost to him. They would leave soon enough.

The thought made his heart seize painfully. Pickle — recalling the nickname brought a small smile to his tired face — was an inexhaustible source of life. They were a fresh breath of air, a reminder to cherish the time he had left instead of just going through the motions each day. They made him strive for more. They made him want to change. They made him want to live and break out of the void existence he had carved out for himself, and into which he had dragged them selfishly.

Isaac took another drag of his cigarette, narrowing his eyes to faintly make out his mother’s favorite flowers growing peacefully beside her grave; but alas, abandoning his grandfather’s legacy was impossible. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

The question made him choke on his exhale. Coughing, he turned to glance at you with furrowed brows.

“You should try, honestly,” you say, stepping up beside him and taking the low-burning cigarette from his fingers. “You remind me of a raccoon,” you add, contemplating only a moment before putting the cigarette out in the soil of one of the succulents placed carefully on the countertop under the window. The moonlight allowed you to see the ash discarded in the sink as you glance down and you throw a displeased look at Isaac.

The night was not dark enough to hide his blush. “A raccoon? How so?” he asked, clearing his throat, the strong and decisive voice you had grown used to uncharacteristically morphed into a tired rasp. “Is it my nocturnal activity?”

You chuckled, looking up at the moon. “I was thinking more about the bags under your eyes.” They had gotten more and more prominent in the preceding weeks and you were starting to worry. 

It was an open secret that Isaac did not settle down easily. You could hear him pacing in the middle of the night sometimes or saw the light streaming into the entrance hall from under the closed door of his study at some ungodly hour when your own troubled thoughts would not let you sleep. “What’s keeping you awake tonight?” you asked in a light tone as you closed the window, hoping it masked your worry.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, as could have been expected. Isaac did not open up easily and it was a shot in the dark hoping he would answer your question truthfully, if at all. You grimaced, fearing you had overstepped. To break the tension rising steadily with the moments of quiet, you were about to change the subject and point out what you assumed was the constellation Orion in the night sky. The deep, heavy sigh escaping Isaac made you pause. 

You turned your head to look at him. It was almost unheard of that Isaac let his carefully constructed mask of stoic nonchalance slip, even for a moment. He was usually so desperate to keep control of both the world around him and himself, it was painful to watch him hold onto it sometimes and brush away sentimentality as if it was a weakness he could not dare to afford. 

The sigh was an admission of defeat. It was the tangible proof, along with the ash in the sink and the way his head was bowed, that Isaac had reached the end of his seemingly inexhaustible rope. 

“Just life,” he said quietly in response, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. The headache had not subsided, and his usual self-destructive remedy of downing a few sleeping pills with a glass of whiskey seemed out of the question now that you were here. 

Isaac’s exhaustion made his head swim. It was hard to say when he had last taken a break when the past weeks blended into one long string of cases and files and meetings and work, work, work. There had never been much of a life for him outside of it, and while working gave his pitiful existence purpose, sometimes it wrung him dry.

The light touch of your hand on his arm made him startle. His eyes flew open and he turned, wincing at the sharp stab of pain it gave his head. Your eyes were fixed on him as if trying to solve a puzzle and Isaac quickly thought up a snide comment about your evident predisposition for a private eye, but it died on his tongue when he noticed the glass of water you were holding out for him to take. 

You smiled faintly at him when he took a few tentative sips of the cool water. “I have fought my fair share of battles with headaches. If there is anything I can do, let me know,” you spoke softly, “Regardless, might I propose getting some rest? Sleep is the most effective natural remedy for them, I have found.”

“I am fine,” Isaac answered weakly. It sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. You hummed, clearly not believing his lie. Perhaps you truly would make a good private investigator. 

“Let me—” you began hesitatingly, “Ah, that is to say, I would like to try something, if I may?” 

“What is it, Pickle?” Isaac asked, sighing again. There was no reason to hold onto pretense now and he was entirely too exhausted to care for it. His mask would be back in place by morning. 

You moved to stand behind him, placing your hands on his tense shoulders. Isaac stiffened immediately, his posture straightening into the usual way he carried himself, always on high alert. He did not move, either to brush your hands off of him or to step away from your touch. You took it as a small encouragement to continue.

“Relax,” you soothed, starting to massage small circles in the place between his shoulder blades with your thumbs. You heard Isaac inhale shakily, but he stayed still, letting you work. Gradually, he started to ease into the touch. 

“You’re—” Isaac rasped dreamily, clearing his throat a moment later for propriety’s sake, “You’re quite good at this.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper, his eyes falling shut of their own accord to drift in the feeling of being touched — kindly and without an underlying agenda to exploit him.

Smiling quietly to yourself at how a few simple touches made Isaac pliable in your hands, you merely hummed in answer. “The tension you carry right here” — you said, moving your fingers to work on the muscles of his lower neck, earning a soft sigh from Isaac — “is responsible for your headache, as far as I can tell. If I had to guess, it comes from sitting at your desk, hunched over casefiles for the better part of the month. Perhaps you could stop overworking and spare yourself this pain? True, now I can—” ease it. Help you. Make sure you’re alright. Take care of you. 

You cut yourself off before revealing too much, your hands still working on Isaac’s shoulders and neck. They were becoming less and less tense under your gentle ministrations. 

When Isaac opened his eyes again, to his horror, his vision was blurry with tears. He wiped at them discreetly. “Thank you,” he said, hoping you chose to ignore how strained his voice sounded. “I have never, I think— Well, it’s been a while since someone,” he hesitated, unsure of how to continue, “did this for me.”

“Anytime, really,” you said, dropping your hands from his shoulders and allowing him to turn and face you. “Although I meant what I said: I would appreciate it if you toned down on burning the candle at both ends, Isaac.” 

Slowly, giving you sufficient time to draw back, he leaned into you, placing his arms around you in a tight embrace. You exhaled, surprised, but wrung your arms around him in return, treading your fingers through the hair at the base of his head. Isaac shivered, holding you tighter. “Thank you,” he said again, voice rough from the lump in his throat, “and I will, I promise.”

[ruthlesslistener]

bro how tf are they teaching bio in india because every single indian teacher or tutor ive had for this subject has been fuckin on point for balancing clear answers with a good challenge and a chill vibe about learning what sorta secret bio magic are y'all on

[des2dream]

Something To Note on The Professor Series💕👓🖊

Alert: Slight Spoilers Ahead

Those who are familiar with ZSakuVA's Strict Professor (Andrew Marston) series may remember the infamous scene in Season 2, Episode 5 where a dinner date outing between Andrew and Listener went horribly wrong! A student from the university barges into the restaurant (and likely didn't even book a table), antagonizes the couple, and throws a drink all over Andrew as a last resort once she's gained enough attention from bystanders. Her actions were WILD and how she could've known where Andrew and Listener were going out that night is beyond me, but I have a few speculations on why she did what she did.

(This one might be the most out of nowhere) She was probably paid by someone from the university (maybe the person who filmed Andrew and Listener back from Season 1, Episode 4) to "terrorize" the couple so that it would make for more drama and views (they could've been filming in the background at the scene of the event) seeing as though after the first incident Kayson said, "The amount of views it got is crazy!" and they're looking for clout.

2. She discovered the news about Andrew and Listener from the video, rumors, etc. and was absolutely disgusted. A handful of university students take their work seriously and look to their professors to guide them. She likely had the same mindset that Andrew's colleagues had in knowledge of this and decided to take matters in her own hands by playing "the hero" even though it resulted in nothing but BS.

3. I'm gonna go on a limb here and say that the poor girl is jealous! From the first couple of episodes in Season 1, Andrew has said that he was aware some of his students found him attractive and said that, "I can't add any fuel to that fire. I can't give them hope." and in Season 2, Episode 4, (when everyone already knew about what happened by now) Luca mentions that quite a handful of students wished that they had confessed to Andrew beforehand. She could've been one of them! She learned that Listener was able to gain Andrew's attention when she had wanted it just as much. She WISHES she could be in Listener's place and now she can't. Her actions of antagonizing the couple at the restaurant was probably her way of saying, "if I can't have him, let me at least make him feel like sh@t" sort of deal or something. Some people can behave rather "out of bounds" when it comes to not getting what they want.

I guess we don't need a full reason on why she did it, but it's just something I thought about looking back...

[stellarislune]

Andrew x Darling ; Rewind pt. 2

alternate universe where, two years after your failed confession towards andrew, you became his teacher assistant instead! 🤭

here's the link to part one! make sure to read it first.

YOUR POV

Two weeks after that day.

Here you are at Professor Andrew's office.

It's a neat workspace with his table and swivel chair at the far right of the office. It's a new one, it seems. Probably bought not far from a month ago. How do you know? Because you’re a psychic.

You snort to yourself and then you shake your head, feeling silly for distracting yourself from what you’re doing.

Right now, you’re sorting suspended files stacked and stored on his set of cabinets and shelves lined up against the left of the room. According to him, he did not let Luca touch the files since he filed for a one year leave prior to his engagement with his boyfriend—now fiancé.

Based on his words, you quote, "With him and those files around, he won't be able to leave at all. He's far from the skittish, clumsy assistant that I knew of when he first started. He's passionate and hardworking. He's dedicated to finishing on time. He's quite the perfectionist, .. it's almost an obsession for him to perform at best. Ah— I'm rambling. Just make sure to file them per year. I bought face masks to avoid inhaling dust, it's on my first drawer on the table. Use it."

Luca probably will be reluctant to leave with work unfinished, you agree with him. So, with a mask on and a ton (you’re exaggerating) of folders and files, you began to sort each into their subjective years. A few of the files were former submissions from students throughout the years and let's say you have had a good time reading through a few funny and profound reads in between filing.

“The forbiddenness of a fruit..” You trail off, squinting. The handwriting on the paper has been smudged. You can barely make out what the rest of the sentence was. You pulled the paper closer to your eyes in hopes that, by doing so, you can see the words clearly.

“-even makes the taste of a lemon sweet’, is what it says.” A voice continues. “By Mokokoma Mokhonoana.”

The room is suddenly filled with static energy. One spark and it’ll catch fire. You hadn't realized that you were too absorbed into your work that he was right behind you already; snapping you back into reality.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

The room is on fire and you’re the only one seeing it burning.

You lifted my eyes at him in an attempt to steal a glance, and then you resigned yourself back to work.

You cleared your throat and greeted, "Good afternoon, Professor."

"Ever so polite like always, aren't you?" Andrew jests.

“Uhm, Yes..?" You reply, not sure what to say. "I'm, uh, done sorting the files from the first cabinet and it's all of the 2019 ones, Sir." Might as well give your work report instead. You hurriedly dropped the paper you were reading. While the passage was interesting like most of the submitted works, they are still not yours to mess with.

“I see.”

“Yeah.” Awkward.

"So much work done in so little time. I commend that. Here, take this."

Andrew reaches for his bag and retrieves a medium-sized can with a label named ‘Blended Brews’.

You turned to him and accepted it, seeing how it’ll be rude if you do reject it. It felt cold against your hand.

"—I was thinking of having it myself but I already picked up coffee from the main office. It's iced caramel macchiato. If you don't like it, just keep it there nonetheless. You might get thirsty." He adds, walking away to put his bag onto his desk. Stretching his arms before sitting down in his swivel chair.

You stare at the coffee he probably got from one of the vending machines for a while. Then, you responded, “Ah, y-yes. I’ll keep this for later.” You laugh sheepishly before setting it to your side. “Thank you, Sir.”

Silence follows.

If you remember correctly, he is a workaholic. Always in his office, never out, unless he has classes. While the usual professors may be glad to have their classes end, he always looks a tad bit sad whenever classes finish in your perspective.

You heave a sigh.

“You..”, Andrew began, making you glance at him. He clears his throat and continues,“-you don’t have to call me Sir or Professor, you know. We’re colleagues now, and you’re my assistant. That grants us both the privilege of calling each other by name, yes?”

That does make sense. Is it awkward for him perhaps to be called as such since you are no longer a student? Perhaps. Who knows? Another sigh follows.

“Very well,” you cleared your throat, "As you wish, Andrew.”

You did not know whether it was the way you said it but that garnered a hearty laugh from him. His eyes glistening as he shakes his head. His face is the epitome of amusement.

“With how you spoke, it almost catapults me back to the Medieval era,” His lips lifted a little to the side, forming a mischievous smile. “Are you gonna call me ‘My liege’ next, Listener?”

His gaze bore through yours, your eyes staring right into each other.

Your breath hitches.

Just like the first time your heart raced this fast. Being able to openly look at him without the fear of any other assumptions does something to you.

Andrew has always been beautiful in your eyes, and seeing him like this right now just hardens that thought in your head.

“I might?” You responded cheekily upon gathering yourself. “Or would you prefer ‘Your Royal Highness?’”

“That would be incongruent with how I am—I'd worry too much about taxes, security, and healthcare in my head, that I'll probably end up on the guillotine. Or—I'll be too strict that the commonfolk will initiate a coup against me.” Andrew chided.

“A royal advisor, then?” You grinned. You tried not to snort upon hearing the rather grim hypothesis that Andrew responded with.

“Hm, fitting. Did the option ‘troubadour’ never come to your mind?” (troubadours - lyric poet musicians who usually sing of courtly love in the 13th century). Andrew swings his chair to the left, the angle now facing towards you. He opens his mouth as if to continue further, but he closes it. Then, he says, “Nevermind. I'm interfering with your work now—”

“You'd make lovely pieces,” You interrupted as you sorted the last folders on your left. It contained nothing but old, unreadable papers so you’re keeping them for shredding later on. 

“Oh? And have you read any of my work for you to hypothesize such a statement?” His voice sounds.. intrigued. 

“You are a literature and history professor. Isn't that a natural assumption?”

“Touché.” Andrew chuckles, his eyes shining with interest. 

The atmosphere seemed lighter now. The worries you have running in your head are just melting like glaciers underneath the sun’s direct rays.

You thought working with Andrew might be too taxing for you. You fear disappointing him now, like how you feared disappointing him with mediocre submissions way, way back when he was your literature professor. 

However, thinking of it now..

It’s not so bad after all.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Watch out for part 3 SOON! 💖

[false-savior]

cursed crossover ideas ft sv characters

weird strict robot professor (weird strict dad) - turo is the dad and arven is the player, turo gets possessed by the paradise protection protocool and arven has to do the rest of the night like ingame

the ogre from the window (the man from the window) - you play as carmine and have to stall out ogerpon for 5 mins and hide yourself and kieran like ingame, you can put random pokeballs on the ground in front of the door, put a mask on the table as a distraction

[dormiloncito]

welp it's barely week two and i think i won't go to class tomorrow. i won't make it guys

[soundlessdragon]

11-year-old me would be absolutely appalled by my current lack of care for grammar/spelling/punctuation

[rayroseu-reblogs]

kinda wish Henric's design was Rollo Flamme's instead bcs im kinda iffy that he's the only character in TWST rn that's not drawn "conventionally pretty" and he's the most evil villain?? I feel like its too stereotypical (i get it theyre playing the evil big guy with anger issues trope but they could honestly do better KDJKSKS)

Speaking of Sleeping Beauty references, I kinda interpret that Henric was a reference to King Hubert (Prince Philip's father) bcs theyre similar in personality, but even he was a good guy in the movie???

Like Stefan, Hubert is also prone to being stubborn, argumentative, and having anger outbursts at times, as shown when he becomes angry at Stefan because of a perceived slight against his son

(I know TWST doesnt copy paste lore from Disney Movies but why is the big guy on the Maleficent series the only one whos comically evil in TWST while everyone else gets a reason why they acted bad in Book 7 Jdkakfkskd)

Also I mentioned Rollo bcs atleast in this way, it could finally match his hatred for faes lol like in the original GloMas story, I feel like this part about Rollo was just too random, like I get that he's delusional but ATLEAST make his delusion realistically believable KDJAKDKS like I get it... Faes are magic and he hates magic, but I just dont buy the lore progression of Rollo hated the loss of his brother and passed that hatred to random faes that PROBABLY didnt go outside of their nation and probably gatekept info about themselves until Malleus' admittance to NRC, like... wheres the connection... the gymnastics just to make this guy viable to be Malleus hater KDJSKD plus if Rollo was Henric in the story, it would fit well with the way Silver Owls liked him and followed his orders (and he'll lowkey kinda slap as the lead villain in Lilias dream if he got his magic too) JUSTTTT IM SORRY this frollo guy needs to go to war instead, not NBC LDJSKD