#and even if it was i could never teach maths/science well enough.

[areyouwho-ithinkyouare]

the sheer amount of therapy i would have to go through before having kids would add like….. at LEAST £15000 to the cost of that already extortionate life stage lmao

[jetii]

Lessons of the Heart

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Reader / Crosshair x Teacher!Reader

Words: 15,738

Tags/Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, strangers to lovers, soft!Crosshair, grumpy/sunshine dynamic, awkward flirting, mutual pining, kissing/making out, Crosshair's anxiety, reader has long-ish hair, Tech mentioned briefly

Summary: Over a year after settling on Pabu, Crosshair is still struggling to adapt to life without having something to fight, or fight for. When Omega comes home with a bad grade, he jumps at the chance to help. He doesn't expect to become so invested, and he certainly doesn't expect to fall for his sister's teacher.

A/N: This one got away from me! But since the poll indicated I should keep this all one part, here you go. I really enjoyed writing Crosshair's perspective and all the little sibling moments in here.

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"Again, Omega? We talked about this."

Crosshair stops dead in his tracks, one boot in front of the other, and stares straight ahead. The basket of dirty clothes in his grip hangs limp by his side as he stands in the hallway, listening. Hunter and Omega are in the kitchen, the latter having just gotten back from another day at school, and they’re clearly talking about something serious.

Crosshair doesn't dare to breathe too loud in case he misses a single word. It's hard not to notice how Hunter's voice drops low when he speaks, trying not to be overheard by someone. By someone like Crosshair.

"I know, Hunter," she groans. He can hear the sound of something hit the counter, likely a datapad, and Omega shifts on her stool. "I tried on this one, I promise."

Hunter hums in a tone that makes it clear he's not quite believing her, and Crosshair's eyebrows raise a little in curiosity.

"Let me see, please."

"Hunter—"

"Omega."

She huffs, but a few seconds later, the datapad slides across the counter with a quiet squeak, and Omega's chair scrapes across the floor as she sits back down. "There. Happy?"

"Thank you." There's a pause, and Crosshair can only imagine the face Hunter is making as he reads whatever it is that Omega is showing him. His voice is stern, a tone that Crosshair's come to know as the sergeant, not the brother. "What is this?"

"I told you," she whines.

"She gave you a 50%?" Hunter's voice raises slightly. "Why would she do that?"

Omega scoffs. She's getting better at that. It almost sounds natural now.

Crosshair peeks around the corner, and sure enough, Hunter has the datapad in his hands, reading over whatever report the teacher sent back. Omega sits next to him, her shoulders slumped, arms crossed, and she's not meeting his gaze. Her backpack sits unzipped, its contents strewn out across the countertop and the stool where she usually sits.

He knows he shouldn't eavesdrop, but he's been doing it for so long he's not sure how to stop. And besides, the look on Hunter's face is one he doesn't like.

They'd all known going into this that Omega wasn't going to have an easy time at school. She excelled far beyond her peers in most subjects — math, history, science, languages, you name it — but there were two subjects where her intelligence failed her. Art, for one, because it was hard to grasp the concept of drawing something when she had no frame of reference. And then, of course, there was literature.

It's not her fault, and Hunter's well aware of it. Her education prior to the Batch adopting her was entirely focused on being the best lab assistant a Kaminoan could ever want. Over time, she soaked up anything they would teach her. Strategy, engineering, politics, even some basic medical training — Omega could do it all. But, as it turned out, there was a pretty big part of her education that she was severely lacking in, and it was starting to show.

Out of the three brothers, Crosshair was the only one who actually made a habit out of reading, though he'd never admit it to anyone. So he tried his best to teach Omega the concepts that her teacher was trying to instill in her, but sometimes it was difficult.

Literature was, by nature, subjective. It's always up for debate, and Crosshair found himself constantly questioning himself while helping Omega with her assignments. It usually ended with both of them frustrated, and Hunter or Wrecker stepping in to mediate the situation.

But still, Omega loved her classes, even if they were difficult. And Crosshair would never say it out loud, but he enjoyed spending time with her and helping her learn, even if it wasn't always the easiest.

It seemed, though, that her teacher didn't agree with his methods.

Hunter looks up from the datapad and places it on the counter. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and reaches across to pat Omega's shoulder. "It's okay. We can work with this."

She shrugs him off and hops down from the stool, gathering her things and stuffing them into her bag. When she tries to reach for the datapad, Hunter snatches it up and holds it out of her reach.

"Give it to me, Hunter."

"No. We're going to talk about this, Omega."

"There's nothing to talk about," she mutters, trying again and failing to grab the datapad.

Crosshair takes that as his cue. He steps into the kitchen and drops the basket of laundry onto the ground by his feet, the force of the landing enough to get their attention.

"Oh, good," Hunter says, looking at Crosshair. "You're home."

"Yep." Crosshair pops the 'p' and folds his arms, leaning back against the wall. He meets Omega's eyes for a moment, and the look on her face is like a punch to the gut. She looks defeated, and it's not a look that suits her.

He hates seeing her upset, especially over something so trivial. It's a report, and not even a very important one. It's not like her grades in the other classes were suffering. She was passing every single one of them with flying colors. It's just this one assignment, this one class, this one teacher who seems hellbent on making her feel bad about herself.

Crosshair can feel the rage bubbling under the surface. How dare her teacher give her a score that low, and why? Because of his help? That was his job, and he was doing it.

"What's going on?" Crosshair asks. He's still staring at Omega, trying to get her to look up at him, to meet his gaze, but she's not taking the bait. She's got her arms folded, her shoulders tense, and her lower lip juts out as she pouts at Hunter.

"I told her we'd talk about it, and she doesn't want to." Hunter sets the datapad back down, sliding it across the counter.

Crosshair picks it up, glancing at the words on the screen before scrolling through the report. It's an analysis, one he's read a million times. He doesn't bother skimming it, because he already knows exactly what she wrote. It's a decent summary of the text, and her thoughts and opinions are written plainly and with an obvious understanding of what the author meant. It's not her fault her teacher wanted her to interpret the text the way a typical thirteen-year-old might, but that wasn't who Omega was.

He glances back up at Hunter. "And what is there to talk about?"

"Well, her teacher doesn't seem to agree with her analysis," Hunter says. He nods at the datapad in Crosshair's hand. "The comments."

Crosshair finds the section in question and reads over the notes. It's a lot of the same, just worded a bit differently, but one comment sticks out among the rest.

Please try to stick to the original meaning of the text, Omega. You did well explaining how your interpretation differed from the traditional meaning, but try to focus on the actual story. 

It's the most condescending, ridiculous thing Crosshair has ever read, and he has to keep himself from throwing the datapad at the wall. He has to remind himself that doing that would only make Omega feel worse, and he doesn't want to upset her.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and hands the datapad back to her.

"This is stupid," he says, and he can see Hunter's eye twitch at his choice of words. "I read the text. I know what it means, and you know what it means. What, are you supposed to go through the entire thing and find the most cliche, obvious way of reading it?"

"No," Omega mumbles.

"Right," he agrees. "So then why is she giving you a low grade for your own thoughts and opinions?"

Omega shrugs. She's frowning, staring down at the datapad like it personally offended her.

And Crosshair knows that feeling, intimately. It's the same way he'd stare at the training room floor whenever a drill sergeant would call him a failure. It grates on his nerves, and he's half-tempted to find the teacher's home address and tell her just how wrong she is.

"But I'm doing it wrong," Omega says, her voice small and defeated.

Hunter is glaring at him now, but Crosshair can't find it in him to care.

"No, you're not," Crosshair insists, and he takes a seat beside her at the counter. "You did your research. You did everything you were supposed to, and you wrote a report about what you think it meant. What's wrong with that?"

Omega shrugs again, and he can see her hands balling up into fists.

The sight alone is enough to set him on edge. His entire body feels like a coiled spring, his muscles tense and ready to go. He hates seeing her like this. She's a bright kid, always smiling and happy, and to see her so down on herself makes him feel ill, and the last thing he wants is for her to think she's failed somehow.

Crosshair doesn't know why the teacher doesn't understand that, doesn't appreciate how amazing it is that a girl her age is even capable of writing a paper like this. Maybe, somewhere deep down, the teacher does get it. Maybe she's just pushing her own agenda. It wouldn't surprise Crosshair in the slightest, and the more he thinks about it, the more annoyed he gets.

"Maybe I should comm her," Hunter says, interrupting his train of thought.

Crosshair snaps his head around, glaring daggers at his brother. "No."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't comm her." He pushes himself away from the counter and stands. "I'll handle this."

Hunter stares at him, one eyebrow raised, clearly confused. "Handle it?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna talk to her."

"Cross," Hunter says, but he doesn't finish his sentence.

Crosshair doesn't stick around long enough to hear the end of it. He's already halfway out the door, pulling his jacket off the hook, and slamming the door shut behind him.

Crosshair is pissed.

He doesn't often get angry. Annoyed, frustrated, irritated, yes. All those are familiar. But angry? Angry is not something he deals with. He can't stand it, the way his chest feels like it's about to explode, the way his heart rate picks up and his stomach feels sick. Anger makes him feel out of control, and the last thing he wants is to lose the little self-control he does have.

But now?

Now, he's angry.

Omega doesn't deserve to be treated like this. She doesn't deserve the way her teacher is talking to her, telling her she's doing something wrong when she isn't. If anything, the teacher should be grateful that Omega is even bothering to read the texts in the first place, that she's putting in the effort to analyze the meanings behind them.

He's so caught up in his own thoughts, he barely realizes how far he's gone. It's only when he spots the school, the tall building looming in the distance, does he realize he's halfway across town, and the sun is starting to dip below the horizon.

He slows his pace, taking a moment to catch his breath, and glances around. He's only been here a few times, just long enough to drop Omega off at the start of the day or pick her up after. He's never actually been inside, never even met a single one of her teachers, and he has no idea where her classroom even is.

A sign points him towards the front entrance, and he follows it. There's a handful of other parents waiting around the main entrance, all of them talking and laughing and joking with one another. A few of them glance his way, watching him curiously as he approaches the doors.

He ignores them, slipping inside and letting the doors close behind him. The hallways are quiet, and the sound of his boots against the tile echoes throughout the empty halls. He's not entirely sure where he's going, but he figures it can't be that hard to find her classroom.

It isn't.

It takes him less than a minute to locate her name, next to a door decorated with bright colors and images of what he assumes are the characters from a few of the stories they've read. He doesn't stop to admire the decorations, though. He doesn't stop at all, really. He pushes the door open and walks right inside, his eyes scanning the room.

The rows of chairs and desks are empty, but the one near the holoboard at the front of the room is occupied. There's a human woman sitting there, head bowed over a desk as she writes, and Crosshair strides up to her without hesitation.

"I want to talk about the report you gave Omega," he says, his voice tight, barely able to contain his anger. The woman looks up, clearly startled, and blinks owlishly at him.

The anger coursing through his veins suddenly tempers as he locks eyes with you, and he finds himself at a loss for words.

You're not what he was expecting, not in the slightest. He'd expected someone older, a woman with graying hair and crow's feet, maybe, one who's lived enough years to become old and jaded. Not this. Not you.

Your eyes are wide and bright, and the expression on your face is nothing short of adorable. He's not sure where that word came from, thrust to the forefront of his consciousness with the force of a speeder, but he can't deny that it's accurate. Your hair is tied up in a messy bun, a few loose strands hanging over your face, and there's a small, pink stylus stuck behind your ear. Your lips are slightly parted, a pretty shade of pink that almost matches the color of the pen, and he watches as they slowly form into a small 'o' as you process what's going on.

And then, just as quickly, your expression changes.

The adorableness falls away, and you straighten your posture, your brows furrowing and your lips pulling into a tight line.

"You must be Crosshair."

He frowns. "How did you—"

"She talks about you." You nod, glancing him up and down, and Crosshair has to fight the urge to shrink under your scrutiny. His mouth feels dry, and the sudden change in tone catches him off-guard. He was expecting defensiveness, maybe a little bit of anger. Instead, you sound...

Well, he can't really place it.

Crosshair nods, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. It's probably because he's angry. It has nothing to do with the way you're looking at him, the way your eyes rake over him, or the way your lips are curled up ever so slightly in a hint of a smile.

You clear your throat and gesture to the seat in front of you. He settles in it, not because you told him to, but because it seems like the polite thing to do. And because he wants to sit down.

Once he's seated, you fold your hands and place them on the desk, giving him your full attention. "I'm glad you're here."

That throws him. "You are?"

"Of course," you say, and the smile on your face is nothing short of dazzling. "I've been hoping to meet you for a while now. Omega speaks so highly of you, and I have to say, I was looking forward to finally meeting the man who's been helping her with her assignments."

And then, you do something Crosshair wasn't expecting. You extend your hand, offering a handshake.

He looks down at your hand, your fingers spread out, palm facing up. Your nails are painted a bright shade of pink, and there's a small smear of what looks like ink near the tip of your index finger. He glances up at your face, and you're smiling at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling a bit as you do.

His stomach does a weird flip, and his chest suddenly feels a lot warmer. He doesn't know what it is about your smile, your eyes, your voice, but it's...nice.

You're nice.

He doesn't take your hand.

You pull it away, but the smile doesn't leave your face. You don't seem offended or hurt, and you're still looking at him with an expression that can only be described as genuine kindness.

Crosshair swallows the lump in his throat. It's getting harder to stay angry, but he does his best to cling to his resolve. 

"You graded her report wrong,” he hisses.

He expects you to get defensive, maybe even offended. After all, no one likes having their work challenged. But instead, you just sigh.

You look down at your desk, grabbing the stylus and twirling it between your fingers. The light reflects off the smooth surface, glinting off the tip of the tool, and the movement is almost hypnotic. He has to force himself to look away, to focus on your face.

For the first time since he barged into your classroom, he notices the tiredness in your eyes. It's subtle, and he doesn't think anyone else would notice, but the way your shoulders sag is a dead giveaway. You look exhausted, and Crosshair suddenly feels an odd pang of guilty for dropping in on you like this.

Your smile is tight when you look up at him again..

"I can explain my rationale, if you'd like," you say, and it's not a question. It's a statement.

He's not sure if he should be annoyed by that or not, but he nods regardless.

"Thank you." 

You reach for a datapad laying haphazardly across your desk and tap away for a moment, before you hold it out for him to take. His fingers brush yours as he accepts it, and the touch sends a tingle up his arm. He tries not to show it, though, and busies himself by looking over the file as you speak.

"I know Omega has been struggling in my class, and I've done everything I can to make sure she has the support she needs. But, unfortunately, there's not a lot I can do when the curriculum is so..."

You pause, and he raises an eyebrow. "So what?"

"Well, it's not exactly tailored for her," you finish, and the small laugh you let out is strained. You shrug, a gesture that's supposed to be nonchalant, but he can see the tension in your shoulders.

He hums, nodding along as you continue to talk.

"I don't usually get students like Omega, you know? Kids who've already seen the world and have lived through so much more than their peers. And that's great, I mean, it's awesome. She's a brilliant kid, and she has such a great sense of herself, but I'm not equipped to handle a student like her."

Crosshair stops scrolling, his thumb hovering over the screen. He looks up at you, and you're staring back, chewing on your bottom lip.

He swallows the lump in his throat and nods. "So, what does that mean?"

"It means..." You trail off, letting out a sigh and shaking your head. You look away, turning to stare out the window behind you. The sun is setting, and the last rays of the day are reflecting off the buildings in the distance, bathing the room in an orange glow.

He watches the way the light illuminates your face, highlighting the curves and lines. It's not the first time he's found himself admiring the way someone looks, but it's the first time it's left him feeling like his heart's about to burst out of his chest.

It's not until you turn back to face him, the light fading, does he realize he's been holding his breath.

"I'm sorry, what was I saying?" you ask, and he's not sure if it's the lighting or his imagination, but he swears there's a faint flush creeping up your neck and cheeks.

"You were talking about the report," he says, his voice a little softer than usual.

You blink. "Oh, right. Of course." You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter, and Crosshair has to remind himself not to lean in. "I graded the report based on how she did against the curriculum."

"Which is stupid."

"Yeah, I know." You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and Crosshair tracks the movement. "But it's how it works, unfortunately. We have a certain set of standards we have to abide by, and unfortunately, Omega's interpretation of the story was outside those standards."

"So? Her analysis is solid, and you know it," he says.

"It is," you agree, and the corner of your mouth twitches up into a half-smile. Your eyes are soft and full of understanding, and Crosshair has to look away.

"Her argument was well-researched, and her points were valid," you say, and it's with an apologetic tone. "But she also failed to follow directions."

Crosshair blinks.

That's not right.

"What?"

"She was asked to write a report on her thoughts and opinions on a classic work, and her interpretation of the story was excellent, but..."

"But what?" He knows he's being defensive, and he's not sure why, but the thought of you grading her unfairly, giving her a low score because of something that was his fault, makes his blood boil.

He takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair, folding his arms and forcing himself to relax.

You don't seem bothered by his attitude, though. In fact, you just smile at him.

"Well, she did a wonderful job of explaining her interpretation, but she failed to stick to the author's original meaning," you explain. "And while I understand why she was interpreting the text the way she was, and I'm happy she's able to do that, she was asked to write a paper specifically about the author's intended meaning."

Crosshair doesn't respond. He stares at you, his lips pressed together, trying his hardest to stay calm.

He has to admit, it makes sense. You're just doing your job, and the fact that you're even taking the time to explain it to him is a testament to how hard you're trying. But that doesn't make the situation any easier, and the disappointment in Omega’s voice when she'd shown him her report earlier that day is still fresh in his mind.

"It doesn't change the fact that she's brilliant," you say, interrupting his train of thought.

He snaps his head up, staring at you, and the expression on your face is almost...tender. You're not just saying it to placate him, or to try and get him to leave. No, you mean it. He didn't realize just how much you cared about his sister, and he's taken aback by how sincere you are.

"Omega is an incredibly intelligent young woman, and I am in awe of her every day." You lean forward, your elbows resting on the desk. You're smiling, but there's a hint of sadness in your eyes, and the way you speak, the words that spill out of your mouth, are genuine. "I can't begin to imagine the things she's been through, and I know that's not an excuse for how difficult I've been, but I'm sorry. I really am."

The anger he'd been holding onto melts away, replaced by a strange mixture of pride and confusion. He's proud that you care so much about Omega, and confused by how much it seems to affect him. He'd expected you to be stubborn, maybe even rude. But this? This isn't anything like the image he'd conjured up in his mind.

It's...

Nice.

"So, what now?" he asks.

"Well," you start, and the smile on your face turns mischievous, "you're welcome to challenge my grade. You can go to the school board, or we can go to the principal's office. You could even submit a formal complaint, or—"

"No," he interrupts, and his cheeks flush when he realizes how fast the word came out. He clears his throat, trying to compose himself, and says, "I meant, what do we do? To help her?"

"Oh." You blink, clearly surprised.

He's not sure why. Does he come off as the type of person who would file a formal complaint over a grade?

Probably, actually.

"Right," you say, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts. "Well, there's not a lot we can do. This was her last chance to make up for her last test score, and I'm afraid she'll have to repeat the class next year."

"There has to be something you can do," he insists. The words fall out of his mouth before his brain catches up, and he's already cringing internally at how desperate he sounds.

"Look," you sigh. "You're not the first parent to come in here at the end of the semester and ask me to raise a grade. But, if I raised Omega's grade, then I would have to raise the grades of everyone else who turned in a similar report. And I can't do that."

"You can't be serious," he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I am," you say, an edge to your voice. "It wouldn't be fair."

"Life's not fair."

"Yeah, no kidding." You huff a humorless laugh. Your lips purse, and he can tell you're holding back a glare. 

He knows he's pushing his luck, and he's starting to feel like an idiot, but he can't help himself.

"You can't honestly tell me that there's nothing we can do."

Your eyes flicker away from his, and your gaze drifts down to the datapad. He can see your mind working, can see the gears turning as you mull over your options. You chew on your lower lip, and Crosshair tries not to stare, but it's a struggle.

He's never met someone who could have him going from angry to intrigued in the span of a few minutes, and he's not sure why he's so fixated on you. Maybe it's the way you're not afraid to stand your ground against him, or maybe it's the fact that you seem genuinely concerned about his sister's wellbeing. Or maybe it's just the way you look, with your bright eyes and kind smile, and the way you're clearly trying your best to make a difference.

Whatever it is, it's working.

"There is one thing," you say, after what feels like an eternity.

"What?"

You take a deep breath, as if bracing yourself, and meet his eyes.

"I can't raise her grade, but I could offer her some extra credit, if she'd like. It's not a guarantee, and I'd have to see her improvement before I decided to give her the points, but it's an option."

"Yes." The word slips out before he can stop himself, and he mentally curses at his own eagerness.

You arch an eyebrow.

"She'd like that." He clears his throat and forces himself to sound casual, unbothered. "If you're willing."

"Of course." You smile at him, and the warmth that spreads through his chest is...weird. But not unpleasant.

He's not sure what he did to deserve that look, that smile, but he decides he doesn't hate it.

"I'll tell her," he says, and he gets to his feet.

You stand as well, and the height difference between the two of you is not lost on him. He has to look down to meet your eyes, and the way you have to tilt your head up makes him feel strangely amused.

He's used to looking down at people, and most of the time, it makes him feel superior. But right now, he just feels...

Well, he doesn't really know how to describe it.

"Thanks," he says, and the word sounds foreign on his tongue. It's not something he's used to saying, especially to a stranger. He's not even sure what he's thanking you for, exactly, but it feels appropriate.

"You're welcome," you say, a grin on your face that's almost too wide, too bright, too much. "Oh, one more thing."

He hums, and you take a step closer around the desk. You're a foot or so away from him, close enough that he can smell the perfume you use, the floral scent filling his senses. He swallows hard and tries to ignore the way his pulse is racing.

You're not making this easy for him.

"We had a chaperone drop out last minute for the end of the year field trip," you explain. "If you have the time, would you be interested in helping me out? We're going to the spaceport museum."

Crosshair has no interest in a bunch of kids running around a museum, and he's about to decline, but the look on your face stops him.

The pleading look in your eyes, the way your eyebrows are knitted together, the slight pout of your lips. He knows what you're doing, and he doesn't like it. He's not the kind of man who caves to pretty girls asking him for favors, and he's definitely not going to cave now.

He's stronger than this. He can resist the urge. He's a trained soldier, a skilled marksman, and he's not about to give in to the will of a cute teacher.

He's stronger than this.

"I'll do it," he hears himself say.

Fuck.

"Perfect." Your eyes light up, and your smile widens. You're practically beaming, and it's like looking directly at the sun. "I'll send you the details. Thank you, Crosshair. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," he says, struggling to think of a clever response, but coming up empty. He doesn't have a chance to say anything else before you're practically shoving him out the door.

When he turns back to face you, he sees you wave, and then the door is shut, and you're gone.

The silence of the hallways is suddenly too much, and he has to force himself to take a deep breath.

He's in trouble.

The trip is a nightmare.

It's not your fault. If anything, you've gone above and beyond to keep the kids in line. Crosshair's watched you run after them, chasing them through the exhibit and reminding them that they're not allowed to touch things. And, for the most part, the kids are well-behaved. There are a handful of them that seem to have a problem listening, but you've got the rest under control.

He has to hand it to you. It's impressive, and a little endearing, how hard you're trying. He knows you're exhausted, can see it in the way your shoulders sag when the kids start talking over you, can see it in the way you sigh when one of them pushes their way past you.

But the kids are bored, and he can't blame them. It's a pretty lame field trip, and he doesn't really understand the point of bringing them here. What is a museum, anyway, if not a place to look at cool, old ships?

So far, all they've done is look at boring, historical texts, and listen to you drone on about the importance of space travel and the role its played in storytelling throughout the galaxy.

The whole thing is dull, and he doesn't have the patience for this. He wants to go home and do literally anything else, and if he has to listen to one more kid whine about being bored, he's going to scream.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

Really, he's not bored.

In fact, he's quite the opposite.

He's fascinated.

It's the way you speak, the passion and excitement in your voice. He finds himself watching the way your lips move, the way your eyes sparkle with amusement. It's the same sparkle they had the other night, when he'd confronted you in the classroom. It's the same one that's been haunting him for the past week, and it's the reason why he's stuck here, in a crowded museum, surrounded by dozens of prepubescent teenagers, all while his brothers are back at home, probably having fun without him.

And, as if things weren't already bad enough, you're wearing the cutest outfit he's ever seen. It's a dress, the kind that flows down to your ankles, and it's got tiny flowers all over it. Your hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, tied back with a pink ribbon, and it swishes back and forth as you walk.

Crosshair's not usually one for dresses, and he's definitely not a fan of the color pink. But on you? It works.

It's almost unfair, really.

No, it's extremely unfair.

He's spent the entire day stealing glances at you, trying his best not to be obvious, and Omega is catching onto him. She keeps smirking at him, her eyes narrowed, and he's pretty sure she's been teasing him. He'll get caught staring at you, and she'll elbow him in the ribs and wink at him.

It's annoying, and he hates it.

Not as much as he hates himself, though.

Because he knows better. He knows it's wrong, knows it's stupid, and yet, he can't seem to stop himself.

And the worst part is, you don't even seem to notice. You're so busy trying to keep the kids in check, to keep them from causing a scene, that you're not paying any attention to him. He's grateful for that, because he's not sure how he'd handle the embarrassment.

But, at the same time, he wishes you would look at him. Just once. Just a quick glance, a tiny smile, a small nod. Something.

He sighs.

It's been a long day, and he's tired.

He's standing near the entrance, keeping an eye on the group of students, Omega included. They're currently huddled around a holoexhibit, and he watches as you answer their questions and explain the significance of each ship. You have the patience of a saint, and he has no idea how you do it. The questions they're asking are ridiculous, and a few of them are just flat out wrong.

Crosshair's tempted to go over and tell them how stupid they are, to get them to give you a break, but he refrains. He's not supposed to be getting involved, after all. This is your job, and he's just here to make sure the kids stay safe.

But he's not about to let them cause a scene.

A flash of metal catches his attention, and he frowns. One of the kids, a Rodian, is standing on a platform, and his hand is hovering over a lever. Crosshair doesn't need to read the label to know what the kid is thinking. He's been watching this one eye this exact display all morning, and he's been waiting for him to finally get brave enough to try his luck.

The kid reaches out, and before he can touch the lever, Crosshair strides across the room. He grabs his wrist, his grip firm, and pulls his hand away. The Rodian squawks in surprise, and Crosshair glares down at him. He's not tall, not for a Rodian, and it's easy for Crosshair to loom over him.

"Don't touch that," he growls.

"I-I wasn't gonna," the kid stammers, and his eyes dart towards the exit. He looks ready to bolt, and Crosshair would find it funny if it weren't for the way the rest of the kids are staring at him.

"Bullshit."

"Language," you scold, and Crosshair turns his head to see you approaching him, an exasperated look on your face. You have your hands on your hips, and you look like you're ready to lecture him instead of the kid who was about to activate the simulator without permission.

He raises an eyebrow at you, challenging you.

"You shouldn't swear in front of children," you say, your tone matter-of-fact.

"Well, maybe they shouldn't touch shit that's not theirs," he retorts, and he shoots the kid a pointed look.

"Crosshair!"

You're glaring at him now, and he knows he should feel bad, but he doesn't. He can't. Your cheeks are flushed, and your brows are furrowed, and you're trying so hard to look stern and serious, but it's not working. He's not sure why, but seeing you angry is a lot more appealing than it should be.

It makes him want to push your buttons.

"If I catch you touching this again, I'll throw you out," he warns the kid, and he lets go of his wrist. "Got it?"

The kid nods, and then he's dashing back to the rest of the group, a look of fear on his face.

"What is wrong with you?" you demand, and Crosshair looks down at you, fighting the urge to smirk. You're still glaring at him, but the flush on your cheeks is a shade darker now, and he can't help but feel a little proud of himself.

"I'm just doing my job," he says, and the smirk he'd been fighting is making its way onto his face now.

Your eyes widen. "Your job is to make sure the kids are safe, not threaten them."

"I wasn't threatening him," he scoffs.

"Yes, you were."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you—"

"Okay, fine, maybe I was. A little," he admits, and you shake your head, a huff escaping you. The glare falls away, and the look on your face is softer now, a little less annoyed, and a lot more amused.

"I had it handled," you tell him, and there's a hint of teasing in your tone now, too.

"Yeah, it looked like it."

"Crosshair," you warn, but the corners of your lips are twitching upwards, betraying the seriousness of your voice.

"What? I'm just trying to help," he says, and the shrug he gives is a little more smug than it should be.

Crosshair isn't trying to antagonize you, not really. He's just...testing the waters, he supposes. Seeing how far he can push you, seeing how much you can take before you crack, and he has to admit that you're holding up pretty well so far. Most people would've told him off, or stormed off by now, but not you.

No, you're still here.

You're standing in front of him, your arms folded across your chest, trying your very best not to smile at him.

You're enjoying this.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, and he has to force himself to breathe normally. He's not sure why that's such a revelation, but it is. You're enjoying his company, enjoying the back-and-forth, and it makes him feel lighter than air.

"Are you always this much of an ass?" you ask, and his eyes widen at the sudden vulgarity, but he recovers quickly. He likes it, actually. The bluntness, the honesty. It's refreshing, and a lot more than he expected from you.

Crosshair smirks. "Now who's swearing in front of children?"

"They're not paying attention."

"Oh, right, because the exhibit on the history of intergalactic trade is so exciting," he says, and you snort, shaking your head.

"Yeah, you're not wrong," you admit, and he chuckles.

"I know."

"Of course you do," you mutter sarcastically. But, the annoyance has faded, and there's a smile on your face as you turn to look at the kids, so Crosshair considers it a win.

You stand there, next to him, your arms folded, and you watch as the kids slowly make their way through the exhibit. They're talking among themselves, completely oblivious to the exchange between the two of you. It's a bit of a relief, because he's not sure what they would make of the fact that he's flirting with their teacher.

Is he flirting?

No, that's not right.

He's not flirting.

He's just being...friendly. He's just making conversation, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's not his fault that you're easy to talk to.

Omega is the only one looking in his direction, and he doesn't miss the grin on her face. He shoots her a look, a warning, and she winks at him. He glares, and she sticks her tongue out.

Great.

He's definitely going to hear about this later.

"You're not exactly what I was expecting," you say quietly. 

Crosshair looks back at you, his heart skipping a beat when he realizes just how close you are. You're standing next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and you're looking up at him, the same sparkle in your eyes as before. There’s a hint of a smile on your lips, and you seem...pleased.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he asks, and he's almost afraid to know the answer.

"A good thing, of course." You nudge him playfully with your elbow, and the touch sends a jolt of electricity up his arm. "I'm glad I was wrong."

"Yeah, me too."

You laugh at that, and he smiles, more than a little pleased with himself. It's an unexpected, but pleasant, reaction, and he finds himself wanting to make you laugh again.

"Anyway," you say, taking a step back. "Thanks for keeping the kids in line. I really appreciate it."

He shrugs. "It's nothing."

"No, really." You look up at him, your eyes bright, and you give him a sympathetic smile. "I know this isn't exactly what you signed up for."

"It's not so bad."

You raise an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

"I mean, it's boring as hell," he admits, and the way your nose scrunches up as you laugh is adorable. He clears his throat and tries to focus. "But it's not awful. The company's...bearable."

You tilt your head to the side, and your eyes narrow. "Thanks, I think."

"Don't mention it."

"So," you start, a slight hesitation in your voice, "does this mean you're not going to file a complaint against me?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Crosshair teases. The way your eyes widen is enough to make him chuckle. "But I guess I can let it slide. For now."

"For now," you repeat, and you let out a breath. You shake your head and look up at him, the ghost of a smile on your lips. "Well, I'll take it. Now, let's get back to the kids, shall we?"

"After you," he says, gesturing for you to lead the way.

He follows after you, and he tries his best not to stare at the sway of your hips as you walk. He fails, but only a little bit.

And, if he catches you glancing back at him every so often, well, he's not complaining.

Omega is practically bouncing on her heels as they make their way down the street, heading home from the school. She's talking a mile a minute, her eyes bright, and she's still somehow full of energy despite the long day they've had. Crosshair can't quite keep up with her, and he's having trouble focusing on her words. He has no idea how you manage to do this every day, and he feels a little bad for thinking that teaching is an easy job.

She's going on about the trip, how much fun she had, and she's not slowing down. Crosshair doesn't mind, though. He's content to listen to her, and he's not going to stop her from gushing about her day. He does the same thing for her he’s always done for Tech, humming and nodding in the right places, and he knows that it makes her feel good to talk.

Besides, he's too distracted by his own thoughts to focus on what she's saying.

He's spent the last hour replaying the events of the day in his mind, trying to make sense of everything. The way you'd looked at him, the way you'd laughed, the way you'd teased him. It's all a little overwhelming, and he's not sure how to process it.

Crosshair isn't the kind of person who gets all worked up over a pretty girl. He’s not even the kind of person who gets all worked up, period.

But something about you, the way you carry yourself, the way you smile, the way you look at him. It's different.

You're different.

He doesn't know what to do with that information, and he's not sure he likes it. For all he knows, you're just being nice, just trying to be polite so he doesn’t give you a hard time. It wouldn't be the first time someone's done that.

Crosshair has been told his whole life that he's difficult to deal with, and he's learned to live with that. He's used to people being afraid of him, and he's used to people not wanting to be around him. He used to take pride in the fact that people were scared of him, but lately, it's started to wear on him.

Maybe it's because of his brothers, the way they've started to change, the way they've become softer. Or maybe it's because of Omega, the way she looks up to him, the way she trusts him, the way she thinks he's capable of great things.

Either way, he can't deny that he's a little lonely.

And maybe a little curious.

"Crosshair," Omega says, and the sharpness in her voice catches his attention. She's stopped walking, and she's giving him a look, her eyes narrowed. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" He blinks, and then he frowns. "Yeah, of course."

"Then, what did I just say?" she challenges, her hands on her hips, her head tilted up.

He pauses, and then sighs. "No, not really."

"I knew it!" she exclaims, throwing her hands up. "You were totally spacing out."

"I was not."

"Yes, you were," she argues, and she crosses her arms over her chest. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Really? Because you look like you're thinking about something."

"Nope," he lies. Crosshair turns his head away from her, pretending to look at something else. There's a few vendors pulling in their stands in front of them, closing up for the evening, and he watches them, trying to avoid Omega's gaze. The florist is packing up his display, and the bright, colorful flowers draw his attention. He tries to ignore the fact that they remind him of your dress.

"Are you sure? You seem...weird."

"I'm fine."

"Are you thinking about the field trip?" she asks, and he can hear the smugness in her voice. "About Miss—"

"Omega." He snaps his head back towards her, his eyes wide, and he gives her a warning look.

"What?" she says, feigning innocence, and he groans.

"Just drop it," he mutters, and he turns to keep walking.

"I can't," she says, following after him. She has to jog slightly to keep up with his hurried pace, but it does nothing to deter her. "You like her."

"Of course I like her. She’s nice,” he replies. His tone comes out more defensive than casual, and he grimaces internally.

"No, you really like her."

Crosshair opens his mouth, ready to defend himself. There's no way that's true. It's impossible. He barely knows you, and you're just his sister's teacher. 

Just a pretty, sweet, kind teacher who cares about her students and isn't afraid to push the boundaries to help them learn. Who didn't back down when he challenged her, and didn't hesitate to stand her ground when he was being an ass. 

Who smiles at him and looks at him like he's worth something, like he's important, like he matters. Who laughs at his pathetic attempts at humor and makes him feel like he's not a complete waste of space, like maybe there's something worthwhile inside of him after all. Like maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for him.

Shit.

He shakes his head. "You're crazy."

"Am not," she insists, and she skips in front of him, forcing him to stop. "I won't tell anyone."

"Omega—"

"You know, she's single," she continues with a knowing, smug grin, and it reminds him so much of Hunter that he has to take a deep breath and count to ten before he can speak again. And even then, he's still annoyed.

"How the hell do you know that?" he demands, his eyebrows raised.

"I overheard her talking to the other teachers during lunch," she explains, and the smugness fades, replaced by a sheepish smile.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop," he chastises, though he's a little too preoccupied with the new information to put much force behind the words.

"I didn't mean to," she says with a shrug. "I was looking for her, and I found her, and they were talking about her, so..."

"So, what else did you hear?" he asks, trying his best to sound disinterested.

"Nothing."

"Omega," he warns.

"I didn't hear anything!" she insists, her eyes wide. After a beat, a smirk forms on her face, and her eyes narrow. "Why? Did you want to know something else?"

"No," he snaps, a little too quickly. "Just forget it."

"But—"

"It's not important," he says, cutting her off as he steps around her and continues walking. He hears her groan in frustration, and he smirks to himself. Serves her right.

"Wait!" She hurries after him, her hands gripping the strap of her bag tightly as she catches up. She's practically running now, trying her best to match his long strides, and her breathing is a little heavier than normal. "Crosshair, slow down."

"No."

She huffs. "I'm just saying—"

"Omega, enough."

"I think she likes you, too."

Crosshair stops walking abruptly, and Omega almost collides with him. He turns his head towards her, his eyebrows raised, and she takes a step back.

"What makes you say that?" he asks. He knows he's being foolish, letting her bait him like this, but he can't help himself. The hopeful note in her voice is hard to ignore, and he's suddenly feeling a lot more optimistic than he should.

"Because she kept looking at you," she explains.

"No, she didn't."

"Yes, she did," she argues. "She was looking at you, like, the entire time. The whole trip. I'm surprised you didn't notice."

"You're exaggerating," he mutters, trying to hide the flush in his cheeks.

"I'm not," she says, shaking her head. "I was keeping track."

"You know, if you paid half as much attention to your schoolwork as you do to gossiping, neither of us would be in this mess," he retorts.

"Hey! That's not true," Omega pouts. "I learned everything I need to know about intergalactic trade from Tech. I'm good."

Crosshair can't help but smile at that, and Omega grins back at him. They start walking again, this time a little slower, and she reaches for his hand, grabbing hold of his fingers.

"But you like her, right?" she asks, tilting her head up at him.

"She's...nice," he admits, and the look on her face tells him that's not enough. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck with his prosthetic hand. "I don't know. Maybe."

"You should ask her out."

"Yeah, I don't think that's a good idea," he mutters, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I barely know her."

"So? Just get to know her," Omega says, and he sighs.

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Crosshair hesitates, trying to think of a reason. The truth is, he's never really had to deal with this kind of situation. He's not exactly the best when it comes to social interactions, and his history with romantic relationships is...limited. It's not something he's ever bothered to think about, but now that it's staring him in the face, he feels woefully unprepared.

"What if she says no?"

"Well, what if she says yes?"

Crosshair doesn't respond. If he's being honest, he hadn't even considered the possibility of you saying yes. He'd been so focused on the negative outcome, the embarrassment, the awkwardness, that he'd completely forgotten about the other side of the equation. What if you did say yes? What would he do then? Would he be happy? Relieved? Or would he be even more nervous than before?

"I don't know," he finally admits.

"You should ask her," Omega urges. "At least, think about it."

"Maybe," he says, and she frowns, clearly not satisfied with the answer. He sighs, and then gives her hand a squeeze. "I'll think about it."

"Okay," she grumbles, and the two of them continue walking, falling into a comfortable silence. It's quiet between them all the way to the front door, and he's almost home free, his hand hovering over the sensor pad, when Omega speaks up.

"I'm just saying," she starts, and he groans, "you should go for it."

"I'm done having this conversation," he grumbles as he tugs her inside, slamming the door behind him. He can hear voices coming from the kitchen, and he freezes, holding fast to her wrist.

"You have to promise not to tell them."

"Okay, okay, I promise," she says, rolling her eyes, and she tugs her arm away.

"No, not okay," he says. "If you tell them, I'll kill you."

"Okay, fine," she huffs, and he narrows his eyes at her.

"I'm serious," he says, his tone low, threatening. It doesn't work on Omega, not anymore, and she just looks up at him, unbothered.

"So am I."

"Fine." Crosshair sighs, deflating, and then, before he can stop himself, the words are spilling out. "So, what do I do?"

Omega's face lights up, a grin so wide it nearly splits her face in two, and he regrets the question almost instantly. "I'll help you."

"What?"

"I'll help you," she repeats.

"You're kidding," he deadpans.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I have a great idea. Trust me."

"Omega—"

"I promise, you won't regret it," she says, and then, she's gone, dashing off towards the kitchen where Hunter and Wrecker are arguing about dinner.

Crosshair watches her go, and then, with a groan, he drags his hand over his face.

What has he gotten himself into?

The next few weeks are a blur. Omega's been keeping him busy, asking him to help her with homework, walking her to and from school, and the whole time, he's wondering when she's going to bring up her big plan.

She managed to get a score high enough on her extra credit in your class to pull her grade up, and Hunter nearly fell over when he found out. You'd sent a letter home with her, letting them know how impressed you were, and both Hunter and Wrecker wouldn't shut up about it for days. Omega's been bragging about it, too, and Crosshair's heard her go on about how smart and amazing and brilliant and perfect you are, over and over again.

She hasn't brought up her big plan again, though, and Crosshair's grateful. She has, however, started dropping hints here and there, meddling in ways that she shouldn't, and it's getting old, fast. 

He's already had to stop her from inviting you over for dinner, twice, and he's not sure how much longer he can keep her from blowing his cover. More than once, Omega's forgotten her datapad at home, and he's had to drop everything to run it to the school. It's a pain in the ass, but at least it gives him an excuse to see you.

And he sees you, a lot more than he should.

He tries not to get too excited about it, tries not to think too hard about what it means, but it's impossible. Omega's made it her mission to get the two of you alone together, and he can't help but feel a bit like a pawn in her scheme, one that she refuses to share with him. Not that it matters, because it's working.

You're talking to him.

In fact, the two of you have spent so much time together over the last few weeks, that it's almost weird when he doesn't see you. Every morning, when he drops Omega off at school, he makes sure to walk her inside. You're always there, and he doesn't miss the way you look up when the door opens or the way you smile when you see him. You're usually sitting at your desk, grading papers, or helping a student, and he's quick to leave before anyone notices how long he's standing there. 

But every once in a while, when he's lucky, you're standing at the front of the room, and the two of you are able to exchange a few words. It's nothing too special, and it's not as if you're exchanging life stories or anything, but it's enough. It's more than he could've hoped for, and it's better than the alternative, which is absolutely nothing. He even brought you coffee one day, after you'd stayed late to work on a project with Omega, and you'd blushed.

Blushed.

For him.

Crosshair would be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed that. It's nice, having someone to talk to, and it's nice, being able to see you smile. Even if it's only for a minute or two, and even if his brothers are constantly giving him shit for it.

He's not an idiot. He knows they're all watching him, waiting to see how this plays out, and he's doing his best not to give them any ammunition. Omega's already told him, several times, that they're rooting for him, and he's not sure how to feel about that. The last thing he needs is everyone butting into his business, and he's hoping that Omega will keep her word and keep her mouth shut.

He's not going to say anything, not until he's absolutely sure. And, even then, he'll probably wait. The only problem is, he's almost certain he's run out of time.

Crosshair has been keeping a mental countdown, counting down the days until Omega's finished with school, and it's come up a lot sooner than he'd expected. The semester is over, and it's officially summer vacation, which means you're no longer Omega's teacher. And with that, comes an end to whatever small shred of hope he'd had that something might happen, that whatever plan Omega had in mind would work, and the two of you would end up together.

Which is fine.

Really, it's fine.

He's not hurt. He's not disappointed. He's not anything. He doesn't care, not one bit, and he definitely isn't sulking, not at all, because that would be ridiculous.

It's just a crush. A silly, stupid, fleeting thing, and it's not worth getting upset about. It's not like anything would've happened between the two of you. You're way out of his league, and he knows that.

But still.

He can't deny that he misses the daily interaction, the brief exchanges, the occasional smiles. He can't deny that he'd enjoyed it, and now that it's over, he feels a little lost. 

He jumped at the chance to go to the summer festival with everyone, partly because he didn't want to be home alone, and partly because he was hoping to run into you there. Which is stupid, and foolish, and pathetic, but he can't help himself. He'd overheard you telling Omega that you'd be there, and it's the closest thing he has to a sign, and so, he's taking it.

Besides, Hunter practically ordered him to go, so it's not like he had a choice.

So, here he is, standing off to the side, watching the rest of the family enjoying themselves. It's still early, and the real festivities won't begin until the sun starts to set, but everyone is already in a good mood. He tries his best not to ruin it with his attitude, but he knows he's doing a shitty job of it, and it doesn't help that they're teasing him relentlessly.

"You're moping."

Crosshair sighs and rolls his eyes as Hunter bumps him with his elbow. He's been standing next to him, staring out into the crowd, and he doesn't turn his head when his brother speaks.

"No, I'm not," he replies.

"Yes, you are," Hunter says. He takes a sip of his drink, and then, nudges him again. "Is this about your girlfriend?"

"Shut up," Crosshair grumbles, and he elbows him back, a little harder than necessary. Some of Hunter’s drink spills, and he feels a small flash of satisfaction.

"Ow."

"Leave me alone," he says, and Hunter snorts.

"No, I'm not gonna do that," Hunter says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's too easy."

Crosshair groans, and turns his head away, trying his best to ignore him. It doesn't work.

"Come on, just ask her out," Hunter urges, and Crosshair glares at him.

He can hear Wrecker snickering behind him, and when he turns around, the look on his face tells him everything he needs to know. He must've been listening in the whole time.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Hunter continues.

"I could make an idiot out of myself," Crosshair replies.

"So? You already do that every day," Wrecker jokes, and he winces when Hunter smacks him.

"Not helping," Hunter mutters, and Wrecker just shrugs.

"Look," Hunter says, turning back towards him, "if she says no, at least you'll know, and you can stop worrying about it."

Crosshair doesn't respond, too caught up in the sight of you weaving your way through the crowd. You're wearing a sundress, a cute little thing that ends just above your knees, and a flower crown sitting atop of your head, and he can't take his eyes off of you. 

You're walking with Omega's art teacher, a Rutian Twi’Lek laden with jewelry, talking and gesturing animatedly. She has her hands full with decorations for the festival, and you're trying to help, but she keeps shooing you away. He can see the pout on your face, and he can't help but smile, just a little, and then you turn your head and catch Crosshair staring.

He doesn't have time to look away.

He doesn't even have time to try.

Instead, he watches, frozen, as your eyes lock with his. Your face lights up, a bright smile on your lips, and you wave at him. He feels his hand lift in acknowledgement despite himself, and he can't stop the way his lips quirk up into a half-smile. 

He can see Omega trailing after the two of you, a stack of posters in her hands, and she's saying something, but he can't hear her. The only thing he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears, and the only thing he can see is you, your face flushed, and a look in your eyes that's far too soft for him to know what to do with.

"Wow," Hunter says, breaking the spell, and he blinks, the image of you in front of him fading, replaced by his brother's annoying smirk.

"What?"

"I knew you liked her, but I didn't know it was this bad," Hunter says.

"Oh, come on," Wrecker teases, a big grin spreading across his face. "He's in love."

Crosshair can't stop the growl of frustration that leaves him, and the sound makes his brothers laugh. He wants to shove them, or punch them, or something, but he doesn't have the chance.

You’re walking over.

You're heading in their direction, and Crosshair panics, unsure of what to do. He doesn't know how to be anything other than aloof and rude, and he's afraid he'll say something stupid and embarrass himself. He doesn't want to mess this up, and he's terrified he'll ruin everything if he says the wrong thing.

He looks at Hunter, a desperate plea in his eyes, but his brother is no help. Instead, he just smirks and shrugs, nudging Wrecker.

"We should go check on Omega," he says, his tone is casual. "C'mon, Wrecker."

Wrecker doesn't argue, and he doesn't hesitate, following Hunter without a word. Before he can blink, they're gone, and it's just the two of you. Crosshair's not sure if it's better or worse.

"Hi," you say, your voice soft as you come to a stop in front of him.

Your cheeks are flushed, and you're fidgeting. He finds it endearing, and the fact that you're just as flustered as he is makes him feel a little bit better.

"Hey," he says, his voice coming out a bit raspier than he'd intended. He clears his throat, and then nods towards your companion. "Are you having fun?"

You tilt your head and look back over your shoulder, and Crosshair doesn't miss the slight roll of your eyes.

"Yeah, I'm having a blast," you deadpan, and he can't help but laugh. He's grown used to your particular brand of sarcasm over the past few weeks, the kind that only seems to come out when he's around, and he's come to enjoy the way it sounds when it's aimed at someone else.

"Don't worry," he says, "we can be miserable together."

"Well, that's not very festive," you reply, and there's a teasing edge to your voice. "What did the festival ever do to you?"

"Nothing, I just don't like people."

"Fair enough," you say with a laugh. "So, what brings you here?"

"Omega."

"Ah." You nod, and a soft smile forms on your face. "Of course. She told me you'll be helping us out later. Thanks, by the way."

Crosshair raises an eyebrow.

This is news to him.

"Uh, yeah," he says slowly, his eyes narrowing. "What did she say, exactly?"

"She said you'd be helping with the games." You tilt your head and look up at him, confusion in your eyes. "Is that...not true?"

He stares back at you, unsure of what to say. He's never agreed to anything like that, and the idea of working with children is...unappealing, to say the least. He can't imagine why Omega would've said that.

The realization hits him, and his eyes widen.

That little brat.

She set him up.

She's been planning this, and he was too distracted with moping to realize it. He'd let her walk all over him, and now, he's going to have to play along. Because there's no way in hell he's going to tell you the truth, not now, not when you're looking up at him, expectant and hopeful.

"Yeah, no," he lies, shaking his head. "She's right. I'll be there."

"Great," you say, and he's pretty sure you actually mean it. "I'm running the scavenger hunt. And, if you wanted, I could use a partner."

Crosshair blinks, brain stuttering over the word partner, and he must look like an idiot, because you start to backtrack.

"But, you probably have better things to do. I'm sure there's someone else who would love to help. I just thought—"

"No, no, I'll help," he interrupts, and you stop, giving him a grateful look.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Your smile is so bright, so radiant, that it makes his heart ache. He can't remember the last time someone was this happy to spend time with him. He's not used to feeling wanted, and the knowledge that you enjoy his company fills him with a sense of pride he's not quite prepared for.

"But," he starts, his eyebrows raised, "you owe me."

"I know, I know," you say with a laugh. "Anything you want."

"I'm serious," he insists, though the smirk on his face betrays his words. "I'm doing this under duress. I'm being held against my will."

"I'll make it worth your while," you tease, and the way your eyes flash, the playful look in them, is almost enough to make him forget how to breathe. He tries not to focus on it, tries not to dwell on the way his mind immediately goes to some very interesting places, but it's a losing battle. He's sure his cheeks are red, and the knowing look in your eyes doesn't help.

"Uh," he says, his voice strangled, and he has to clear his throat again before he can continue. "Good.”

"Good," you repeat, and the smile on your face turns shy. You take a step back, and then another, and the look in your eyes is...different, softer, and a little more vulnerable. It makes his stomach twist. "Well, I should probably go. But, I'll see you later, right?"

He nods, and you grin. You wave goodbye and walk away, and Crosshair watches you go, a small smile on his face. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at himself, but he can't stop smiling. It's a dumb thing to be happy about, but it's nice, knowing that you're looking forward to seeing him. And the way you'd looked at him, the hopeful look in your eyes, the shyness, the blush on your cheeks. He can't stop thinking about it.

It's just a crush, and it'll go away eventually. It's just a silly little thing, and it'll fade away. You'll be gone, and he'll be left behind, and everything will go back to normal. He'll get over it.

But, as he stands there, watching you laugh and smile and talk to the others, the sight of you making him feel things that he's not quite ready to admit, he can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want it to.

By the time the sun sets, the courtyard is packed. The vendors have all set up their stalls, the games have begun, and the music is blaring. Crosshair stays close to Wrecker, using his bulk to help him avoid the crowds, and does his best to ignore the children running around. Wrecker's not much help. He keeps wandering off, getting distracted by the food or the games, and Crosshair is left to wander around alone.

It's not all bad, though.

He's able to keep an eye on Omega, and that's enough to keep him occupied. He knows she can take care of herself, but it's hard for him to relax when she's not within eyesight. And, every once in a while, you catch his eye. You're busy, running from place to place, and he knows that you don't have time to stop and chat, but the small, shy smiles that you give him are enough to put him at ease.

It's a nice distraction, and it helps him stay focused, which is a good thing. Because, before he knows it, it's time for the scavenger hunt. Omega drags him over to the table where you’re waiting, and he can't help but smile at the enthusiasm in your voice.

"I'm so glad you could make it," you say, and the look in your eyes tells him that you really mean it.

At his side, Omega looks far too proud of herself. Crosshair narrows his eyes at her, and she gives him a toothy grin in return.

"Me too," he mutters, and you laugh.

"Come on," you say, grabbing a basket from the table. "Let's get started."

Crosshair nods, and he stands back as you hand out datapads and explain rules to the crowd that’s formed around them. He's not paying attention. He's watching you, listening to your voice, enjoying the way you look in the light of Pabu’s setting sun, and it's a nice moment. That is, until Omega elbows him, and he startles.

"What?"

“She likes you," she whispers conspiratorially, her hand cupped over her mouth.

"Shut up," he hisses.

Omega giggles, and he glares at her, but it does nothing to wipe the smirk from her face.

"I'm not talking to you," he growls.

"Yeah, you are," she says, her voice laced with amusement. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Before he can say anything, you announce that the scavenger hunt has started, and the kids are off. Omega joins the crowd, and soon, she's lost among the swarm of children running past them. Crosshair watches her go, his eyebrows furrowed, and then, he turns his attention to you.

You're smiling, waving at the kids, and he can't take his eyes off of you. This was a bad idea. He should've said no. He should've done something, anything, but instead, he'd let himself get roped into helping, and now, he's standing here, watching you, wishing he had the courage to just say something, and it's driving him crazy.

"Thanks again for helping," you say, turning towards him, and he startles, caught off guard.

"Uh, yeah, no problem," he replies. "I was going to be here anyway."

"Yeah, Omega mentioned that."

Crosshair nods, and the two of you settle into an awkward silence. He shifts on his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he stares out into the crowd. You're quiet beside him, and the longer the silence lasts, the more uncomfortable he becomes.

It's not like you to be so quiet. Usually, you're chatting his ear off, asking him questions, trying to get him to open up, and the fact that you haven't said a word is concerning. You’re shuffling datapads and small trinkets around as if looking for something to keep yourself busy, and he's starting to wonder if he's done something wrong.

He's trying not to worry about it, but the longer the silence stretches, the more his mind races. He knows he's overthinking, and the more he thinks about it, the more anxious he becomes.

It's just a crush, he reminds himself.

He doesn't want anything from you. He doesn't need anything from you. He doesn't expect anything from you. But, as he stands there, trying not to dwell on the way his heart is racing, the way his stomach is twisting, the way his breath catches in his throat, he can't help but feel like a bit of an idiot.

He can't help but wonder if you've figured him out. 

Maybe you know, and that's why you're acting so strange. Maybe you can tell, and you're waiting for him to make the first move. Maybe you're nervous, or maybe, you just don't want him to say anything, because you don't feel the same way, and that's why you're keeping your distance. He knows that's a long shot, but it doesn't stop his brain from fixating on the thought. He can't help but think about how much worse it'll be if you do know.

So, he stands there, and the silence stretches on, tension thick in the air as you cast glances at each other. 

It's not until a couple of kids come up and ask for help with the next clue that the tension breaks.

The two of them are young, maybe eight or nine, and they're struggling. They're a cute pair, brother and sister, and they remind him a lot of his siblings. Their parents are nowhere in sight, and they're arguing, bickering, and it’s not until you crouch down to speak to them, taking the datapad from the boy's hands, that they calm down. You explain the next clue to them, and Crosshair watches as the siblings nod, their faces lighting up with understanding.

He wants to keep watching you, but a second pair of kids approach, and then a third. He can see you’re starting to get overwhelmed, and so he picks up a datapad and gets to work.

Soon, the two of you have a rhythm. You help the younger kids while he helps the older ones, and the system seems to work. He finds himself enjoying the task, and he doesn't even realize that an hour has passed until the scavenger hunt is over and the sun has nearly set. The two of you gather up the datapads, and the kids line up in front of the table, ready to receive their prize.

They're all so excited, and they're smiling and laughing and cheering, and it's a nice sight. Crosshair has never been the biggest fan of children, but these ones aren’t so bad.

He doesn't even realize that he's smiling until Omega runs back over to him, her arms outstretched, and she flings herself at him. She grabs hold of his waist, and she squeezes him tight.

"Thanks for helping," she says, her voice muffled, and he has to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"No problem," he replies as she lets go. She's still grinning at him, her eyes bright, and he can't help but reach out and ruffle her hair. "How'd you do?"

"I won," she boasts and slaps his hand away, and he rolls his eyes, unable to keep from smirking.

"Of course you did."

"It wasn't easy," Omega continues, her eyebrows raising as she speaks slowly. "But I had a great partner."

Crosshair sighs, and he gives her a knowing look, which she ignores.

“Don’t screw this up,” she whispers, and then, before he can say anything, she turns on her heel and heads back towards the others.

You're still sitting at the table, and he takes a moment to compose himself before heading over. You're organizing the datapads, sorting them into a bag, and he takes a seat next to you.

"Thanks for the help," you say, and he nods, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Not a problem."

"You did a good job," you tell him. He ducks his head, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as you continue, “You’re good with them.”

"Well, you're welcome," he says, his voice low. "I have a lot of practice dealing with little brats."

You laugh, and the sound makes his heart swell. You continue sorting the datapads, and he watches you work, his eyes trailing over your features. It's not until you clear your throat that he realizes how long he's been staring.

"So, um," he begins, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he's been caught. "I was thinking..."

You look up. "Yeah?"

"You owe me."

"Huh?"

"You said anything I want," he explains, and the confusion on your face clears.

"Right," you reply, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. You stop what you’re doing and turn to face him fully. "And what would that be?"

"Dinner.”

"Dinner?" you repeat, your eyebrows raised, and he nods.

"With me."

"Are you asking me on a date, Crosshair?"

"Yeah," he says, and his heart leaps into his throat when your eyes light up. "I'm asking you on a date."

"Oh," you say, a soft smile on your lips, and he can't help but mirror it. "Well, how could I say no?"

"Great," he replies, and then, after a pause, he asks, "is that a yes?"

"Yes, of course it's a yes,” you chuckle. You shake your head, and then, a teasing smile forms on your face. "Did you think I was gonna say no?"

"Uh," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was prepared for it."

You snort, and the laughter that follows is almost enough to distract him from the way his cheeks are burning. Almost. He looks away, embarrassed, but he can't help but smile.

"Sorry," you say, stifling your laughter, and he shrugs.

"It's fine."

"No, no, I'm not laughing at you," you say. You're biting your lip, trying to stop yourself from smiling, and his eyes narrow. "It's just..."

"What?"

"This whole time," you begin, and you have to bite back another laugh. "I've been trying to figure out how to ask you out."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah," you admit, and the shy smile on your face is almost too much for him to handle. He can't believe what he's hearing. "I've been waiting for an excuse to spend some time alone with you, but I couldn't think of anything. So, when Omega mentioned you'd be helping out, I figured it would be my chance."

Crosshair shakes his head, trying to process the words. It's a lot to take in. You've been trying to ask him out? All this time, he's been wondering, worrying, and it was all for nothing? You've wanted this, too?

"Oh," is all he can manage, and it's enough to make you laugh again.

"Yeah."

He doesn't know what to say, so he stays silent. You shift next to him, and you place your hand on his arm, the contact sending sparks through his skin. Your touch is light, but it makes his breath catch, and he doesn't miss the way you smile at his reaction.

“So, do you want to watch the fireworks with me?” you ask, your voice soft.

"Yeah, sure," he says. He's trying not to let his excitement show, but judging by the grin on your face, he's not doing a very good job of it.

"Good."

He's expecting you to let go of his arm, but instead, you slide your hand down, and your fingers brush against his, a subtle gesture that makes his heart race. He turns his hand palm up, and you slide yours into it, your touch warm and gentle. His fingers curl around yours, and the smile on your face makes him feel bold.

Crosshair stands, pulling you up with him, and the two of you walk to the edge of the courtyard, hand in hand. It’s quiet now, save for the music playing over the speakers and the soft murmur of conversation, and the sky is dark. There are only a few people left nearby, mostly parents picking up their children, and no one pays the two of you any mind. You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, a smile forming on his face.

You lead him down a set of steps, and the two of you make your way towards a spot overlooking the bay. The breeze is cool, and the smell of salt fills the air. Without the lanterns and torches and strings of lights, it's dark, and he can just barely see your face, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon.

There’s a tree behind you, and it offers a bit of privacy, and the two of you settle against it, sitting on the grass. He can see the bay spread out in front of them, and the waves crashing on the beach, a steady rhythm that helps slow his racing heartbeat. 

He's still holding your hand, and he gives it another squeeze. You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder, and the two of you watch as the fireworks begin. The explosions are loud, and bright, and colorful, and you point out the best ones, and the ones that remind you of him, and the ones that make you laugh. And, as the fireworks continue, as the colors fill the sky, you lean closer, and he pulls you into his arms.

He's not sure how long it lasts, but the longer the fireworks go on, the closer you get, and the more content he becomes. You're sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, holding you close.

You turn your head, the movement catching his eye. Your eyes meet his, and the two of you stare at each other, and the fireworks fade away, forgotten.

"Hey," he whispers, and the corner of your mouth twitches.

"Hey."

"This is nice," he says, his voice low.

"Yeah, it is."

You shift, turning towards him, and your face is so close that he can feel your breath on his lips. He knows he should wait, should give you a chance to change your mind, should give himself a chance to talk himself out of it, but he can't. 

"I—"

"Yes," you interrupt, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and he has to laugh.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say," he teases, and you shrug.

"I'm sure it's something good," you say. You reach up, cupping his cheek with your free hand. "Whatever it is, the answer is yes."

He can't stop the smile that forms on his face. He doesn't even try. He just leans in, closing the gap between the two of you, and he kisses you, a soft press of his lips against yours. He feels you sigh against his mouth, and his eyes flutter closed as he loses himself in the kiss.

The fireworks are still going off, but he can barely hear them, and the cheers and laughter and music are distant, a soft hum that fades away. All he can focus on is the feel of your lips against his, the warmth of your body pressed against his, and the soft sound of your breathing.

He feels you smile, and his heart races, and he has to pull back to catch his breath. He opens his eyes, and he's met with the sight of you, your face flushed, and the most beautiful smile he's ever seen.

"That was nice," you say softly, and he scoffs.

“Just nice?" he asks, half-joking and half-serious. He’s just had the best kiss of his life, and if you think it was just nice, then he's got some work to do.

"Well, maybe it was a little more than nice," you tease. The look in your eyes has him leaning in again, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your lips and back.

"Only a little?"

"Yeah, a little."

"Hmm, well, let's try that again," he murmurs, and you laugh, a soft breath against his lips.

"Alright."

Crosshair kisses you again, and this time, the kiss is deeper, slower, and more deliberate. His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you onto his lap, and you don't hesitate to follow his lead. He runs his tongue along your lower lip, and when you moan into his mouth, he feels a thrill rush through him.

Your hands are on his shoulders, and you're straddling his lap as you kiss him back, matching his pace. The feel of your tongue sliding against, and the soft whimper you make when he bites down on your bottom lip, nearly drives him crazy. He grips your hips, and he tugs you closer, the pressure of your weight against him drawing a groan from his mouth into yours. It’s a sound so low and raw that it surprises him, but you don’t seem taken aback by it. If anything, you seem pleased, and it suddenly occurs to him that there’s a lot he doesn’t know about you.

And, for once, he's excited to learn.

He doesn't want this to end, and when you break the kiss, his lips chase yours, unwilling to part just yet. You're gasping, your breath coming in shallow pants, and he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his fingers digging into your hips.

"You're right," you say, breathless. "Definitely better than nice."

Crosshair laughs, and he opens his eyes. The sight of you, your eyes dark and your cheeks flushed, lips swollen and red, is almost enough to make him let go of the fragile grasp he has on his control. He wants to kiss you again, and again, and again, but the sound of cheering startles him and reminds him of where he is.

He blinks, and he looks around, and then, he lets out a breath. The fireworks are over.

He hadn't realized.

You're still staring at him, a dazed look in your eyes, and when your lips twitch into a smirk, his grip on your hips tightens.

"Don't look at me like that," he warns, his voice raspy.

"Why not?" you ask. Your hand moves from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers brushing against the hairs there, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

"Because I'm trying to be good," Crosshair explains. "And you're making it very difficult."

"I'm sorry," you say, but there's a hint of laughter in your voice that tells him you're not sorry at all.

"Don't be," he replies, and then, with a groan, he continues, "you're worth it."

Your cheeks flush, and he has to fight the urge to lean in and kiss you again. He knows if he does, he'll never be able to stop, and he'd prefer not to scandalize the locals. Or worse, have his brothers catch him in the act. So, instead, he takes a deep breath, and he moves his hands from your hips to your waist.

"Come on," he says, giving you a gentle nudge, and you pout.

"Fine," you sigh, and you give him a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off his lap. You stand and dust yourself off, and then, you offer him a hand. He takes it and lets you help him to his feet. You're still holding his hand as the two of you start walking, heading back up the stairs.

"So," you begin, breaking the silence, "when should we have that date?"

"Are you free tomorrow?"

"You don't waste any time, do you?" you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ve wasted enough time," Crosshair says, his tone serious, and you give him a look of understanding

"Yeah, me too."

"So, tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow.”

The two of you share a smile, and he leads you back through through the courtyard. You walk slowly, and you let go of his hand, but the loss of contact is quickly forgotten when you lean into him, your shoulder brushing against his. He's tempted to wrap his arm around you, to pull you close, but the idea of having an audience for that makes his stomach turn, so he doesn't. Instead, he just enjoys the feeling of you at his side, and the easy way you fit into his space. 

It doesn’t take long to make it to the point where you part ways, and the two of you linger, neither one of you ready to leave the other.

"I guess this is goodnight," you say, your voice soft.

"I guess so."

You reach out and grab his hand, and you squeeze it, giving him a shy smile. He squeezes back, and then, without thinking, he raises your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of it.

The flash of embarrassment that follows is enough to make his face heat, but it's worth it for the way your eyes light up, and the faint blush that colors your skin. You duck your head, and the small, pleased smile on your face has his heart racing.

"Goodnight, Crosshair," you say.

"Goodnight."

You turn away, and he watches you go, his eyes lingering on the sway of your hips, and the way your hair dances in the wind. You don’t make it very far before you turn around, a mischievous grin on your face.

"By the way," you begin, your voice raised, and the smirk on his face fades. "Tell Omega I said thank you.”

Crosshair's eyes narrow, and his mouth opens and closes, his mind stuttering as he tries to process the words.

Omega set him up, and you knew, and this entire night was her idea. He'd known, in the back of his mind, that she'd been plotting something, and yet, it hadn't occurred to him until now just how much that entailed.

That little brat.

He can't decide if he's proud or embarrassed. He settles for a combination of the two, and the amused look on your face tells him that he's doing a poor job of hiding his feelings.

"Goodnight, Crosshair," you call out, a teasing lilt to your voice.

"Goodnight," he calls back, his tone flat.

You wave goodbye, and then, with a final, knowing look, you turn around and walk away.

He waits until you're out of sight before letting out a groan. Crosshair runs his hand down his face, and he shakes his head, trying not to think about how many times he'd made a fool of himself tonight. His siblings were never going to let him live this down. He sighs, and then, with a roll of his eyes, he starts walking.

When he makes it home, he finds them already gathered in the living room, talking amongst themselves. Omega’s chosen a chair that faces the front door, and her head snaps over toward him as soon as he walks in. Wrecker and Hunter catch on quick, and the room falls silent, the three of them watching him.

"So, how'd it go?" Omega asks innocently.

Crosshair glares at her, his eyes narrowed. She meets his gaze, a challenging look on her face, and he closes the front door with more force than necessary.

"It went fine."

"Fine?" Wrecker repeats. "That's it?"

They’re all staring at him now, and he can feel his temper rising, the heat of embarrassment rushing to his cheeks, and his fingers twitch, aching to shoot something. He forces himself to calm down, to remind himself they’re only asking because they care. Crosshair relaxes his shoulders, his jaw unclenching, and then, he lets out a sigh.

"Yes, fine," he says, his voice low. "We're going out tomorrow."

The room erupts into cheers and laughter, and Wrecker stands, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Crosshair squirms, trying to escape, but it's useless.

"Wrecker, let him go," Hunter orders, and Crosshair breathes a sigh of relief when his brother finally releases him.

"Thanks, Wrecker," Crosshair grumbles, only to let out a grunt when Omega barrels into him, her arms wrapped around his waist.

"I told you it would work," she says, and Crosshair reaches down and ruffles her hair.

"Yes, you did," he concedes, and the look of triumph on her face has him rolling his eyes. He sighs and extracts himself from her embrace, and he clears his throat. “She says thanks.”

Omega beams, and Wrecker and Hunter laugh, clapping him on the back. They congratulate him, teasing him, and he bears it as best he can, trying not to show how happy he is even as his heart races, and a warm feeling spreads through him.

He hadn't thought he'd have this again, a family, people who cared about him, and he hadn't dared to hope that he'd find something else, something more. He hadn't even known what he was missing until he met you.

And, for the first time in a long time, he's excited for the future.

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[anthroamazed]

tips for stem majors in math and science courses (spoonie + neurodivergent friendly)

hi y’all! my nameis lila and i’m a 28 year old physics and anthropology major who’s about 2 years through college (in the US)! as we’re coming up on the start of the fall ‘23 college semester, i thought i might share some really solid hacks for fellow STEM students taking science and/or math courses that i’ve basically built my college academic career on. and! these study tips are spoonie and adhd friendly! as a matter of fact, a lot of these are tips/methods that specifically work for me as a neurodivergent spoonie (i have pretty severe adhd, as well as POTS and ME/CFS), but that i think non-disabled/non-spoonie and/or neurotypical students could also benefit from using! so with out any further ado, here are my 7 tried and true study hacks for college math and science classes…

1) discover your learning style and tailor your studying towards leveraging it.

you’ve probably heard of visual, audio, and kinesthetic learning styles, but did you now there’s actually way more learning styles than just those three? i’m personally a “social learner,” meaning i learn best through discussion and socialization with 1+ other people to interact with. this could look like teaching other classmates concepts and methods that we’ve learned or discussing ideas with classmates and/or professors until i fully understand the concepts at play and how they connect and can reflect them in performing analysis and application, etc. honestly, figuring out my learning style was hands down one of the most helpful things i’ve done in college. it has allowed me to choose professors who i will mesh better with in terms of how they teach, as well as to adapt materials and methods to my style of learning in order to master them quicker and more effectively.

2) rewrite your notes after lecture, for the love of god.

this tip actually comes from my high school IB Math HL teacher, who told me to do this when i originally left high school for college. even if you think you’ve mastered the basics of the topic covered during the lecture, rewriting those notes after lecture helps really hammer in the knowledge that you’ve already established and also helps to get the wheels turning on pieces of information you might have less of a grasp on. try tp set aside at least 30 - 40 minutes after class to just rewrite your notes and try to really digest the information.

3) body doubling is one of the most beneficial things ever to be invented even if you’re not adhd, and i WILL die on that hill, thank you very much.

“body doubling” or “having an accountabilibuddy” are interchangeable terms in the adhd community that mean you have one or more consistent study buddy/buddies who you do all the homework and/or studying with in person on a regular basis, even if you’re just working next to each other in total silence. this does a couple of things. first off, it forces homework/assignments/studying to become a concrete social obligation you need to regularly show up for, rather than a nebulous obligation based on an invisible deadline. second off, it gives you 1+ partners to work out your problems concerning course topics with. third off, it allows you to build a network of peers where you feel comfortable helping each other with course material (this is especially great because it’s likely you and your classmates have different strengths regarding course content). tbh, body doubling is the other method that i, personally, have found most useful in college and i highly recommend trying it, even if you don’t have adhd.

4) teach others/your classmates the analysis and application methods you’ve learned, even if those methods aren’t 100% solidified for you (trust me on this).

the goal of stem courses is never memorization, but rather being able to understand a topic well enough to analyze a similar situation and apply the what you’ve learned creatively. this is where teaching others comes in. in order to teach others a concept and its related analysis and application well, you have to have at least a fraction of a decent understanding of these things yourself, and, further, often time in teaching these things you also learn to grasp the concepts/aanalysis/applications even better than you did before with each new teaching session. basically: teaching others is a creative way of also teaching yourself. you get the benefits of repetition, of thinking about a concept/technique/analysis and application in a new way, and of getting to apply the concept/technique/analysis and applicatioin to a new scenario each time. plus, you’ll typically make friends quickly in the process! there’s really no downside to this tip imo ;-)

5) utilize your college’s tutoring center/program(s), even when you don’t think you need to.

usually colleges have either set up a general “tutoring center,” on campus where you can find tutors for all different kinds of topics and courses available during regular hours for walk-in sessions and/or appointments free of charge or departments will hold regular weekly (or twice weekly) free on-campus tutoring sessions for specific courses. regardless of which of these options your college has, i highly recommend attending at least one tutoring session/appointment (ideally with the same tutor if/when you eventually find one you click with) every single week, even when you don’t feel like you’re struggling with the topic(s) covered in that week’s lecture. this will help you review topics and techniques covered in lecture, deepen your understanding of them, and, if nothing else, it’s an excuse to get homework out of the way while having someone else there who can help you if/when you get stuck. attending at least one session weekly also helps you get into a habit and routine of keeping up with your assignments, so you’re not left scrambling at the last minute before they’re due.

6) if you have accommodations, request access to record lectures. if you do not have accommodations, ask your professor if you are allowed to record lectures. IF YOU RECORD LECTURES, DO NOT FORGET TO REVIEW THEM!

okay, so first up for my fellow spoonies and neurodivergent peeps: when you apply for/renew your accommodations, make sure that “recordinng lectures” is on your MOA (memorandum of accommodations), because so long as it is, your professors legally cannot deny you permission to record lectures without risk of themself and the college being sued for an ADA violation. also, make friends with a classmate and ask them to record lectures and send them to you if/when you are absent (let the professor know that you’ve asked this classmate to record and send you the lecture if you are absent)

now, if you aren’t disabled, a spoonie, and/or neurodivergent, you aren’t guaranteed permission to record lectures. however. ask the professor if you can have their permission to audio record lectures (be sure to also let them know that such a recording would be for personal use only and that you don’t plan on distributing the recordings). i’ve found that many professors don’t mind you having an audio recording.

even if you aren’t an audible learner it can be really useful to have these recordings to review at a later point. oftentimes reviewing lecture recordings can be useful if you glazed over and missed a section of the lecture and/or if you can’t remember what a professor taught during a section of a lecture.

7) last but not least, on a related note, if you have accommodations, also request access to your professor’s lecture notes. if you don’t have accommodations, check if your professor posts their lecture notes for students to use.

having your professor’s notes can be extremely useful for review purposes, but they can also help you understand where your professor is going with course content and what they want to stress as important.

[spencereid-reads]

the language of you | s. reid

wc: 2.1k // warnings: english isn't my first language! an extreme amount of italics, meet-cute, love at first poem sight kinda thing. poems that i found on either google or pinterest. a few swear words, maybe? // a/n: my first time writing for reid and cm in general. i'm in the middle of season 9 and idk where this idea came from. also i don't know anything about poetry, the last quote is as far as my knowledge goes. if you think you know me from my other writing blog no you don't<3but ily also idk if i'll keep writing, i just wanted to post it bc of world poetry day, i think it's a nice coincidence.

i use she/her pronouns//fem!reader in almost all of my fics!

the cold hallways of the university building aren't as big and intimidating as he remembered. and this time, they welcomed him with open arms. he was just a kid when he first set foot here, and now here he was, being invited by a member of his team to teach the young minds of college kids.

spencer reid had never been a great public speaker, sure, he had the qualities of one, but he was also known to ramble on and on about a specific subject if he was interested enough in it, most likely overwhelming and quite often scaring the class attendees.

he followed dr. blake through the crowded halls, she'd invited him along to one of her lectures, she needed someone with vast knowledge about, -well, everything-, and a quick mind, and he was the perfect addition to her classes.

it was weird, being on the other side of the lecture hall, with dozens of eyes set on him as he spoke, he wasn't nervous per se, more... aware of the situation. but luckily the students were focused, paid attention and asked good questions. he considered that a win in his book. without noticing, the 90 minute class was over, and he approached blake after gathering his things and crossing his signature leather bag over his shoulder.

"ready to head back?" he asked.

"not quite, there's a friend of mine giving a lecture next door, it's her first class, actually. thought we'd stop by for a bit, wish her good luck." she said, sliding her black blazer back on.

"sure, what's it about?"

"you'll see. i think you'll enjoy it." she gave him a sly smile, making her way up the steps, he stood there for a second, wondering what the subject might be. there were a lot of things that he enjoyed, physics, math, science.

spencer caught up to her just as she opened the door to the other lecture hall, sliding in behind alex as his eyes adjusted to the change of lighting. compared to the room they'd just left, this felt nothing like a classroom. it felt more like a theater.

the lights were off, the room being lit up by fake candles lining both sets of steps on each side of the room, and he noticed real candles on the front stage, the flames dancing with the subtle change of pressure as a girl, maybe as young as he was, walked on stage. a book in her hand, but she didn't need it, whatever she was saying was from memory, the worlds flowing effortlessly out her mouth.

he stood frozen in his spot, it took him two seconds to recognize and figure out what was going on.

"lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass. what does it matter that i couldn’t keep her. the night is fractured and she is not with me." she recited, eyes closed as she stopped walking, even from his spot at the top of the steps he could see her facial expression, a frown on her face as her eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed as if she was the one feeling the pain the author was describing.

neruda. poetry.

spencer had never been the biggest fan of poetry, but maybe he just hadn't found the right person to teach him about it.

what an incredulous thought, someone teaching a subject to genius spencer reid? but he couldn't help but be drawn to the soft voice that spoke with love, sorrow and rhythm.

"my voice tried to find the breeze to reach her. another’s kisses on her, like my kisses. her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes."

she was savoring each word in her tongue, and spencer's ears perked up at every sound that left her mouth.

"wonder boy, come on," alex's whisper brought him out of his thoughts, as he followed her down the candlelit steps to one of the first rows.

how he wished he could've stayed up there, hidden within the shadows, since he couldn't take two steps without his eyes having to find the young lecturer again, slowing down his legs.

but from down there he noticed the way the candles lit her face, casting a soft golden glow, and now he found himself thanking the small flames scattered around the stage.

she threw the two fbi agents a look, a knowing gleam in her eye as she recognized the female doctor. it was fleeting, she didn’t let the interaction distract her from the verses and the words slipping from her lips.

“loving is so short, forgetting is so long,” she breathed the words, barely audible as she felt every syllable in every bone of her body.

as she finished the poem, deafening silence fell upon the room, and spencer realized how quiet the room had been since he arrived, yet her soft voice seemed to fill it effortlessly.

“has anyone here ever felt emotions as strong as the ones depicted in the poem? joy, sadness, anger?” she asked, somehow leaving aside the ‘character’ she’d slipped into as she recited the words written by neruda. “love? has anyone ever experienced this… deep, unshakeable need to absolutely possess someone? to keep them all for your own, locked in a room to look, touch, admire as much as you wish?” she continued, eyes scanning the room, and spencer’s breathing hitched when she placed her eyes on him. “i know how it sounds like, but- poetry and language, is quite possibly the best way to express those intense feelings.”

“what about sex?” a voice from the crowd asked.

“that’s a great way too,” she nodded, laughing along with the class, “but have you ever stood in front of a girl, a boy, a person you truly feel like you’d die for, and told them exactly that? how just the touch of their hand holding someone else’s would rip your soul out of your body, or how you’d swim oceans just to get to hear their laugh one last time? i don’t know about you, but i feel like that’s a hundred times better than sex.” she continued, walking from one side of the stage to the other, using her hands and changing the tone in her voice to emphasize what she wanted to say. “i promise you that by the end of this semester you’ll be able to put all of that into your own words. read, everyone. please, read and do your research, and i promise you that you’ll get your chance to be neruda, dickinson. anybody can be a poet. poetry is about feelings, thoughts, the things that keep you up at night, and being able to put all of that into words. read, even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, but think about what they want to say. i know it’s our first class but i’ll leave you some work for friday. just pick a poem, learn it and present it here, i want to see what we’re working with. that’s it for today, thank you.” she vowed her head like an actor who’d just finished a play, walking around the stage as she blew the candles off.

“come on, let’s go say hi,” alex stood up, prompting spencer to do the same, and he had to swallow the feelings inside of him. his mind repeating every word the girl onstage had just said. he knew the importance of poetry, he had a few favorite poets, and he knew about all the hard technical work that was behind writing a good poem, but he’d never taken the time to think about the personal aspect of the work.

“dr. blake, great to see you here,” she greeted the older woman, who embraced her in a hug.

“you too. you were great there, no one would’ve thought it was your first time teaching,”

“well, what can i say, i learned everything from you.”

“please, our fields are as far apart as they could be. it’s all thanks to that big brain of yours. which, speaking of, meet dr. spencer reid, we work together.” alex stepped aside, revealing a tall man, hands fidgeting with his leather bag and long strands of hair covering his forehead. alex always had a soft spot for spencer, the young genius reminded her of herself, once upon a time.

“pleasure to meet you, dr. reid,” the young girl smiled at him, offering her hand.

“likewise,” he said, taking her hand in his. alex’s eyebrows raised, she’d been expecting a speech about germs and pathogens but got none.

“so, what’d you think? was it too much? think i scared the kids?”

“today’s youth doesn’t take things too seriously, they prefer one night stands and lack of commitment.” spencer explained.

“think i’m reaching for the stars for trying to get them to channel their emotions and actually feel them?” the young professor asked him, a smile on her face told him that she’d already thought about that.

“not necessarily, studies have proven that people who can feel and acknowledge their emotions are happier, live longer and have better relationships with themselves and others. also, they have more confidence in themselves and can make lasting relationships, but physical and emotional.” he continued, and this time dr. blake spoke.

“so if you do your job right you’ll get lots of people laid,”

“ah, if only i could make that work for me,” she replied, heat creeping onto her cheeks as she looked down. her words made spencer stop breathing.

“i’m sure someone with your wits and… well, you could get anyone you want,” the words slipped out before he could control them.

“sounds easier said than done, but i’ve decided to devote my life to my work and books, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone coming anytime soon to change that. i’m alright with that, life is more than that.” she shrugged her shoulder.

“not enjoyment, and not sorrow, is our destined end or way; but to act, that each tomorrow find us farther than today.” spencer recalled from memory.

“you speak my language, doctor,” the young professor breathed. and the older woman took the opportunity to interfere.

“like i said, genius. you two should talk, he’s got a very interesting brain that i’m sure you’d love to pick,” she reached toward her friend, wrapping her in a quick hug, “i’ll meet you out there, reid, i have a few things to do.” with that she walked out of the lecture hall, leaving the two young brilliant minds together.

“sorry about her, she’s been trying to set me up with someone since we met. i was her t.a back when i was a grad student.”

“you worked with her?” spencer asked, internally rolling his eyes at himself, she’d obviously just stated that.

“yup. i know, how could someone go from linguistics applied in criminology to poetry? it’s a big leap, but… she’s helped me more than anyone in my entire career.” she spoke with fondness in her voice. “anyway, she was right. i would love to pick that brain of yours.” she said, “sorry, that sounded weird, but-”

“no, no, it’s- fine. i- i’d like to talk to you, more, as well.”

“it’s a date, then.” she smiled, even wider when she noticed the slight blush creeping on his cheeks,

“if only i could recollect it, such a day of days. i let it come and go as traceless as a thaw of bygone snow; it seemed to mean so little, meant so much-” spencer started, the words taking over his mind and mouth before he could even think about it.

“if only now i could recall that touch, first touch of a hand in hand- did one but know,” she finished for him.

“i-i,” he started, surprising himself by the way he stuttered. “i don't speak your language, not like you do, not yet. i'm not a poet. but… i want to learn… i want to.”

she breathed out, all the air leaving her lungs, his wild eyes scanned all over her face, not profiling. but learning, taking in her cues, and a pressure left his shoulders when she saw her lips twitching, breaking for a smile.

“i may be the writer, but you'll always be the words.” she took a step toward him, his eyes settling for her own, it helped him calm down. “it's like i said, anybody can be a poet.”

“i-i’ll see you friday?” he said.

“friday?” she raised her eyebrows.

“yeah, you-you said you had to see what you're working with?”

“i do.” she nodded, a playful gleam in her eyes, “i guess i’ll see you friday. we can get coffee, before coming here.” she suggested.

“is that special treatment, professor?” one more time, he surprised himself by the way he spoke to her, like it was the most natural thing to do. we wished it never stopped, he wanted to hear her amused laugh again.

“maybe.” she bit her lip as she laughed.

****

“this could be the start of something new, and it feels so right to be here with you.”

-high school musical

[tthatsonme]

Intellect, by molly.

— People often underestimate the seriousness of your sudden shift of motivation, in this day and age; it’s uncommon to see anyone (especially younger people) read a book or have any interest in having goals whatsoever, but you’re different, you’ve set the curve, you’re the centre of attention and everyone should be like you especially when it comes to academics, parents are constantly asking you to teach their kids your way because of how effortless your work ethic and dedication to school seems.

— Whenever the teacher needs an example on how to do a math equation or what a well written and worded essay SHOULD look like they always hold up your assignments as an example, you are 100% the best example of what a student should be like an any generation but especially this one, all of the parents and guardians with the “brain rotted iPad babies” or “wasting their lives away because of technology addiction teenagers” beg you to tell them what your “secret is” but maybe you’re not even fully aware of your greatness or level of discipline and success.

— You have a very distinct and important morning routine that you do every day, whether your routine has 4-steps or 40-steps it’s almost like it’s been burned into your DNA to follow it daily, your routine is not optional, you have the most perfect sleep schedule it’s almost as perfect as you, but in case you need a late study night you wake up everyday well rested regardless of whether you slept a full 8-hours or not, your memory to do things is amazing, you have a better memory than most people in your classes, you remember everything that you hear, read, and write in terms of school, you remember how to spell everything, your handwriting is always neat and legible, you could basically rewrite the dictionary at this point, fun fact: most people in this generation aren’t fluent in English because of the lack of spelling and vocabulary (my teacher said this so it’s probably true), while the other people in your class are crying over the phone ban if you have you you’re perfectly fine without your phone for 6-8 hours a day, you’ve never had any issues writing stories or having original thoughts, you have an extremely expanded vocabulary and are an amazing writer, “You don’t use brain rot?? Nerd alert!” It’s surprising to hear someone only use quote “brain rot terms” ironically, whilst the rest of the world is having unintelligent conversations about skibidi toilet and whatnot you’re the complete opposite.

— You have no issues in and are the best at all forms of mathematics, geometry, algebra, calculus, arithmetic, trigonometry, number theory, statistics, set theory, topology, discrete mathematics, probability, combinatorics, numbers, mathematics analysis, analytical geometry, differential equations, applied mathematics, game theory, pure mathematics, linear algebra, numerical analysis, and matrix algebra, natural sciences, engineering, medicine, finance, computer science and social sciences, biology, chemistry, physics, astronomy, earth sciences, zoology, ecology, microbiology, astrophysics, neuroscience, logic, ethics, psychology, philosophy, mechanics, and social sciences, morphology, sociolinguistics, pragmatics, psycholinguistic, linguistics, phonetics, historical linguistics, stylistics, and computational linguistics plus whatever other courses and classes that you have. [If this last part seems random it’s because it is, it’s copy and pasted from a personal sub I made a year ago for 11th grade :p]

_Things to remember

You can and will only ever manifest what you desire from this subliminal

Make sure not to obsess over your results because they can lead to limiting beliefs

You don’t have to listen daily or 1-7 times or anything like that, one is always enough with any subliminal :)

[dustin4ce]

stability.

young! tony stark x male!teacher! reader

a/n: i kinda threw this together while talking to a friend, but if you enjoy it… let me know and i’ll write a follow up!!

warnings: student-teacher relationship, brief mention of sex, mention of abuse, tony crying (poor baby)

ace is the only stability a young tony stark has. mr. (ace) ellis teaches the junior english class at tony’s high school. tony was never good in english, but he tried his hardest. he was a smart kid, he just put all his energy towards science and maths to impress his father, causing his english grade and writing portion of school to fall short.

tony walked into english with his head down, he didn’t want mr. ellis to see the black eye. ace cared too much about tony, and it would immediately bring attention to him. tony hates being the center of attention. the young stark sat his bag down next to his chair as he sat. his head falling heavy on the wooden desk in from of him. this was unusual. tony always seemed interested in english. tony enjoyed english (mainly because of his teacher). mr. ellis came from his desk rubbing tony’s back like he did with everyone, but he got no response. people still filing into class, giving ace the perfect opportunity to talk to tony. the taller authority squated down next to tony, hand still on his back. “hey kiddo — you alright?” that was all it took. the small shakes of tony’s body told him everything. the quiet sniffing and shake in stark’s breath. tony’s fists clenched as he gripped onto his own sleeves, yet he made no effort to turn to look at his teacher. “hey.. why don’t you step out into the hall? maybe go to the bathroom — wipe your eyes with a wet paper towel. i’ll be out there after i explain the lesson.” tony, still shaking, got up with his head down and went outside.

mr. ellis didn’t take long to explain. some simple assignment. ‘write me an essay about a life motto you believe is important’. ace was proud, he came up with the idea himself. he even wrote his own essay. ‘don’t take what you earned for granted.’ it sounded stupid, (the motto), but ace had realized many times that he’d work for something — then quit working to improve what he got as soon as he got it. he wanted to be better. that’s why he was really trying to check on tony — he wanted to be someone people could depend on, especially tony. stark had always had a portion in ace’s mind. tony had trusted him with things — his dreams, life goals, his family. ace always wondered what tony was doing, how tony was doing. he knew it was wrong, but couldn’t stop himself when it was just him in his bed at night. his thoughts always wondered back to tony. the soft touches, his almost perfect smile, his shy personality, his (as ace would classify it) adorable face. his hand always found a way to his pants. he knew better, he swore he’d never let it get out of hand, but when the images of a young tony stark being bent over his desk under him and his control flooded his mind, he just couldn’t keep that promise.

ace had rubbed his hair back after explaining then stepped outside. tony was sitting on the ground, knees basically to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs, and his forehead pressed to his knees. the young boy was still crying. mr. ellis sat down next to him. “tony — talk to me? what’s going on today?” tony blubbered, he finally looked up, ace’s eyes widened as he saw the bruising on tony’s face. first, he felt sympathy and sorrow. then, he felt anger. who could do this to his boy? his sweet, little baby. he was gonna get to the bottom of it, he made sure of it. “what happened, kid?” ace gently touched tony’s cheek, his fingers shocking tony. “don’t be mad.” tony’s frown and tears still evident. ace nodded. “my dad, uh, didn’t like my grades — maths and science — they weren’t good enough for him.” tony sniffled, he did really well for the term, but it wasn’t perfect — so howard obviously didn’t like it. “so he hit you?” ace’s voice was laced with anger. stark just nodded. “oh kid — i’m so sorry, i really am.” tony teared up more as ace pulled him into a hug, stark’s head immediately landing on the older man’s chest and cuddling into him. he always loved the smell of mr. ellis, and his sweet gentle demeanor. ace kissed the top of the young man’s head and rubbed his back. tony couldn’t take it, through his tears he mumbled what he thought would be incoherent. “mm — ‘m sorry. i love you.” but ace heard, yet said nothing. just smiled. he heard all he needed to. tony stark had told him he loved him, and ace knew he loved his tony stark. nothing was ever going to hurt tony again, especially not his father.

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 14 - middle school teacher

pairing: middle school teacher!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you greet your new colleague who happens to be the same age as you

word count: 1634

warnings: fluff, awkward, its a meet cute

spence-tober masterlist

As you turn down the colorfully, painted hallway of the middle school classrooms, you spot an unfamiliar sight. 

Usually so early in the morning, you were one of the few to be in the school and to your knowledge, you were the only middle school teacher who came so early to prep for the school day.

Carrying your tote bag and your large to-go coffee cup and dressed for the school day, your interest peaks as you spot a man sprawled out on the floor on his hands and knees, collecting a large amount of papers that had obviously escaped from his hands.

You rush down the hall, your flat shoes clicking on the tile of the hallway, and then set your stuff on the ground, bending down to help the man.

Even though his face is angled to the floor, the man looks to be about your age. His face is slightly flushed, you guess by embarrassment, but it’s a rather handsome face you can tell. He’s dressed in a nice button up with a cardigan over it and some nice slacks with some white vans on his feet. His brown hair is messy, but short enough that it doesn’t roam about around his face.

“Are you okay?” You ask, him, trying to search his face to see if he had slipped and fallen.

He looks up at you and gives you a small, shy, smile, “Yeah, I just tripped.” The tips of his ears turn a bit red. 

“I didn’t fall.” He corrects, “But I did send all of these papers flying.” He chuckles, nervously, “Thank you, for the help,” He says, gesturing to the collection of papers you have gathered from around the hallway for him.

You shrug it off and offer him a kind smile of your own, “It’s no problem. Are you new to the school?” You inquire.

You, yourself, have been working as a middle school teacher at this school for about six years now, having started right after you graduated with your degree. You had interned as a student teacher in your last year of college to gain experience and then accepted the offer by your mentor to take her place when she retired. 

The man nods and gratefully takes the papers from your hand, adding it to the pile in his own, “Uh, yeah, I am. I’m Spencer, by the way.” He introduces. He offers his free hand not holding the stack of papers for you to shake.

You give him your name and shake his hand with yours.

“What are you teaching, Spencer?” You ask, wanting to get to know your new co-worker more.

“English for 7th and Math for 6th.” He responds, his nervousness starting to dissipate. “How about you?”

“Science for 7th and 6th.” You answer, “I’ve never been very good at grammar or inferences.” You admit to him.

“Well, you must be pretty good at math to teach a variety of sciences.” Spencer assures you.

You giggle and shake your head, “As long as I’ve got a calculator, I’m fine.”

Spencer chuckles back at you, “A calculator never hurts to have.”

You glance at the stack of papers in his arms, “So those are your first day activities?” You ask him, pointing down at the pile held by his hands.

The top paper is one of those get to know me print out sheets that could be found all over the internet. If you’re not mistaken, you used that exact print out during your first official year of teaching.

Spencer nods and neatly tucks in the paper edges of the stack to be more uniform, “Oh, yeah. Um, just some get to know me’s. I have some math puzzle sheets and a few of my favorite short stories too.”

“That’s really nice of you to share your favorites.” You compliment with a warm smile, “Don’t worry, the middle schoolers aren’t too ruthless.” You joke. 

He returns with a smile equally as warm as your own, “That’s good to know. I don’t want to get eaten alive on my first day.” He quips.

“Oh, I wouldn’t let them.” You assure him, playfully bantering back and forth now.

Neither of you go to leave and still stay, standing stagnant in the hallway together alone. “Do you, um, usually come to school this early?” Spencer asks, trying to make some small talk.

You nod, “Yeah, I usually like to get the work day started. Leaves me less to do at the end of the day and all that.”

He grins at you, “That’s really smart.” He holds up the stack of papers in his hands, “I wanted to get everything printed and ready for today.” There’s a hint of nervousness in his expressions.

He adjusts the stack once again and seems to struggle a little bit when he has to readjust the glasses up further on his nose. “Can I help you with that?” You ask, pointing to the papers.

Spencer looks like he’s about to refuse your offer when the papers slide once again. You chuckle and go ahead and take about half the stack in your free hand, having grabbed your own possessions off the floor but easily juggling them.

He profusely thanks you for the help, but you brush it off. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll get easier to carry stacks of papers when there’s a crowd of students in the hallway and you only have time to make one trip to and back. Trust me.” You inform him, trying to calm some of his nerves, “Everything will get a lot easier. Teaching’s the easy part, wrangling middle schoolers who are in the midst of drama is much harder.”

“Thanks,” Spencer says again, “First day jitters are getting to me and all that.” He chuckles, nervously.

“Well, my classroom is the one with my name on the door.” You say, pointing down the hallway a little further back, “Let me know if I can help you. I swear, I had first day jitters my entire first year of student teaching.”

He nods, “Hopefully I can get into the routine of things. I, uh, was teaching at a community college for some time, but realized I wanted to teach a little younger. This is my first time with middle schoolers.” Spencer walks with you until you reach a door. It’s like yours, just a little bit more plain and instead has his name on it, Mr. Spencer Reid. 

He holds the door open for you and gestures you to go first, “Here, if you could just put it on my desk.” He directs.

You do as he says and find a space on the crowded desk for the papers. He follows behind you and piles on the rest of the papers in his hand.

While he straightens things out, you decide to look around the classroom. You were familiar with it, of course, you knew the older teacher who retired last year and often came into the classroom for supplies or otherwise. All of the decorations from the prior teacher were gone and it was still quite bare bones, but you could see the little things Spencer has started to add. 

The large shelves were filled with many books of different variety and sorted by genre. You could spot The Hunger Games Trilogy, the Illiad, Geronimo Stilton, and Magic Tree House, to name a few. The walls were pretty bare, but there were some brand new dinosaur themed garlands decorating the tops of the cabinets and bulletin boards. Judging by the plastic bags resting on the floor near the teacher’s desk, Spencer wasn’t quite done with decorating yet.

Spencer turns back to you when he’s finished straightening out his desk. He watches your eyes take in the room around you, “It’s not done yet, I, uh, didn’t realize how much stuff I need to fill a classroom.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. 

“It looks really good so far.” You compliment, looking back at Spencer with a smile.

“Sorry, bye the way.” Spencer blurts out next, like he had been sitting on saying it for a while. 

You furrow your eyebrows, “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer repeats, a bit bashful this time. “For keeping you. You came early to get things done and I’ve kept occupied. You haven’t even bene able to put your stuff down.” He gestures with his hands towards the tote on your shoulder and the travel coffee cup in your hand.

Before you can respond, a school bell sounds off and Spencer visibly panics. You know the panic all too well and hold up your hand to stop him in his tracks, “That’s the teacher bell. No students yet. They test the bell on the first day to let all the teachers know its 30 minutes until students will show up.”

“Oh,” Spence relaxes and his tense shoulders melt with your explanation.

“I should get going though and sort out my classroom.” You say, looking at the watch on your wrist, “And don’t worry about keeping me today, any time you need help, just come find me. The first year teaching middle school can be stressful.” You tell him, honestly, “I’m here early every day and I leave about an hour after school ends.”

You collect yourself and move towards the door, turning around one last time, “Have a good first day.” You say, wishing him the best.

“You too!” He says, catching you right before you left down the hallway.

It would be years before you would tell Spencer that when you left his classroom starting down the hallway towards your own, that the other teachers were giving you very knowing looks. 

When you did finally tell him, it would be on your honeymoon.

a/n: i am not very happy with how this turned out but at least its done? at this point (sorta halfway through writing the month) all these prompts and blurbs are running together...

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hey, cas!

I think I need some advice. Apologies in advance if this sounds too urgent or something. I know one of your boundaries is to not feel pressured to answer immediately and I don’t want you to feel like that’s what I’m doing.

So school started again about three weeks ago but I was sick the entirety of last week, so I’ve only actually been to school for two. Where I live the school system is a bit different from America, but you could say that this is my first year of high school, only that I didn’t have to change schools.

Even though it’s only been two weeks, I’m already immensely stressed out. Now that I’ve been sick for a week, I’m scared I missed too much stuff, especially because the level of things we need to do has doubled since last year. I’ve always been pretty lazy and never really studied for anything except sometimes math. I never needed to because I got Bs and often As anyway. Now however I’m completely overwhelmed.

Last night I panicked so much about having to go back to school today, that I almost threw up. When I realized, I found myself thinking about forcing myself to throw up to prove to my mother that I was still sick so I wouldn’t have to go to school.

When I realized that that was what was going on I had another breakdown and didn’t do anything. I felt almost disgusted at myself for even thinking about that.

This morning I wanted to fake a headache, but ended up not because my mother kept insisting I go to school.

When I was on my way to school, my bike had issues, so I asked my mom to come help me. I had a breakdown before she even arrived. When she did, she tried to help me and understand what was going on, but I couldn’t really speak or listen to anything she told me. I think I may have had a panic attack of some sort.

When I’d calmed down enough to explain what was going on, she tried to reassure me that everything would be alright and that my grades didn’t matter to her. I knew all of that already, but it did calm me down a bit.

After we agreed that I can stay home today as long as I promise to go tomorrow, no matter what, she suggested that I go to therapy, which I was planning on asking for anyway.

All in all it doesn’t sound as bad anymore now that I’ve typed it all out like this. The only issue is that in my country Therapy waiting lists take an average of 6 months. I don’t know how I’m supposed to wait that long.

Do you have any advice on how to get my anxiety under control until then. Or how to feel less stressed about school in general. I can’t talk to my teacher because she’s very strict and her method of teaching people who don’t know stuff yet is to repeatedly call on them and throw them in ice water basically. I’m sure she means well, but it only increases my anxiety by a tenfold. What would you tell your students if they were having trouble with something?

I definitely struggled with this when I was younger, so I completely get it. I think one of the things about feeling overwhelmed like this is you feel like you have to get it all done in one day. So instead, could you maybe make a list of the things you need to get done, but then separate it into manageable chunks? Like Make up all your math work on Monday, science on Tuesday, etc? You could even show your teacher your plans to let her know you're working toward getting caught up.

Honestly, I would tell my student that you need to go easy on yourself. If you push yourself too much, you're going to end up learning less because you're too stressed! The people what expect you to be perfect aren't worth it. Take breaks, do a little at a time, and remind yourself that it's just as important to take care of yourself as it is to catch up <3

Sending love and naming you catch up anon!

[simknowsstuff]

The human mind has no definite state on any matter. No one mind comprehends the world the same, but many people conform. No one model of the mind exists, but many work well enough to be used, but also many conflict in key components.

Behaviour can come from biology, physical structure, environmental influences, current received input, taught behaviour, hormones, neurotransmitters, specialised structures, and inward conjecture. All of which differ vastly

If the brain were an actual neural network, the synaptic firing that regularly occurs would just be teaching the brain to retain its current state. Memories would just be a gradient mapping and recall of input relativity to other inputs.

We can't map out neuron clusters because not every brain has the wiring.

Neural networks aren't even close to the brain. I fucking hate that comparison. They're using math to approximate the shape some function makes. Its like covering a frozen blanket over an art student's sculpture using only a ballpoint pen

The brain is a machine that uses nature to construct these approximations, encoding hyper-compressed genetic data on the right initial firings and right densities that would preclude the degradation of function, leading to "functional groups" of neurons that have no purpose but to generally exist, made to roughly approximate hundreds of models that process things in ways we could never even comprehend, or imagine the intended genetic function of.

If you try and describe the brain to anybody it'll sound like fucking science fiction, but life is a metaphysical entity that yearns to feed off of waves of entropy, so it burst through the seams of whatever part of the earth FUCA came from, and decided "hey lets lead to a maximised creature designed to create change"

I'm not saying we are maximally made, but we're the best that there is currently in the same way that adding and modifying more and more computer parts to a shitty pc would make a maximally good computer

and thus society and industry and classes and hierarchies are born, dents in the pathways that make up the multidimensional shape we call our hippocampus, forged likely from the will of life, as the first step into catalysing the world.

Creatures that don't maximally destroy or change are the ones that fall victims to those that maximally do, after all.

Idk what this rant is about, brains weird, do whatever the fuck you want and make your mind whatever the fuck you want, as long as it perpetuates and encourages the story of your life and others to be beautiful and complex.

Moral of the story: fuckin idk

[docholligay]

Consider a setting where graduating from a certain school gives you the right to wield political power on a national level, depriving everyone who doesn’t attend of the right to vote, but the bottom third students of every year get transformed into magical slaves. How terribly would the Senshi or Overwatch crew handle that?

Okay, so, let's get this out of the way first: WHAT THE FUCK.

Now that we've taken that important break, let's think about this.

Do we know what they teach at this school? Because I think that would be a large part of my decision for this. Some of the cannier players in the game would enter if they thought they stood a chance, but by the very nature of the thing they ALSO know that the best of the best are going to go here. Do you think you're in the top 66% of 1000 driven and probably proven intelligent people? I mean, I probably would be like, "I guess I am a voteless worker bee."

So, for the purposes of this question, we'll assume it's a standard high school type setup, with, fuck, I'm just doing this for the purposes of answering. We'll use what was the AP track for each at my high school, because, well, I'm familiar with it.

Math : Algebra, Geometry, Trig, Calc

Science: Earth, Biology, Chemistry, Physics

English: Four years of upper level Literature courses focusing on analysis and knowledge of the canon.

History: (Insert country of origin here), Government, World i, World ii

Language: Four years of a language, I took Spanish.

And then we can make space for other shit. We had 6 periods a day, but not every day had to be the same. Whatever, we'll go with the guideline.

SAILOR MOON

Rei goes because Rei has never been humble for even one moment in her life, and also she wants to boss the entire country around. She knows that she is going to be in the top 66%, and also probably graduate first in the class, she's just that smart. Is she though???? We don't see one way or the other, and I think of her as a sort high-middling student, and in an environment like this one, I could see her maybe ending up on bottom.

Minako would never do it unless she was sure she could find a good way to cheat on everything. Minako's not stupid, but I do think she can be a little intellectually lazy. Sitting down and actually doing the work would take her aback a little bit, but I also think she knows that and also isn't too proud to admit, to herself at least, that she might be in danger there.

Michiru's family has so much money and influence that even if she can't vote, she can vote, so I don't see her willingly putting herself through that.

Haruka would not attend, but it would only be because Minako stopped her from some desperate and quasi-suicidal jaunt to prove herself worthy or some shit. She knows its dumb, Mina knows its dumb, but here she is, signing up for it! It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Overwatch:

Lena has laughed herself out of the building already. Thanks but no thanks. Voting isn't worth the entirety of a physics class and having to do well in it on top of everything else. She'll go wash glasses in a pub if she has to, goodbye.

Fareeha acknowledges that it is a difficult task, and it will encourage a high level of competition, but luckily, rigorous testing of her abilities is a boon in her eyes. She spends long nights studying and sharpening her acumen. Literature is never her strongest class, and she does worry about it, but she gets it together just fine, and is strong enough in everything else.

Mercy is the sort that is more than smart enough for this sort of thing, but I don't know that she would want to sign up for it because it just seems cruel. It seems wrong. She will, of course, be talked into taking a spot, because better someone with her scruples than someone chomping at the bit to have the power.

Dva is following Lena out the door but she's posting the whole reel to TikTok, including she and Lena popping babychams in the parking lot.

[alcoholttm]

@shipwrght asked:

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Though, he can't deny his curiosity to peel back the curtain to Kaku's true past. Out of all the time they had spent together, before and after everything that happened, his past had always felt more of a taboo topic. Never quite pressing further to avoid discomfort, but always having that wish he would bring it up first. Paulie sighs, scratching at his face. "I won't lie, I want to know... but I'm guessing it's going to be a lot." And even then, he feels like that was an understatement.

"no, no, it's about time that i actually tell you what happened," it was a loaded question that paulie had asked, but kaku knew that he deserved some explanation on how he came to be what he was. so, with a breath he looked down at his hands, they were scarred sure, but there were times that he swore he could still see blood upon them.

"i was sold to the world government from a very young age," he started, eyes glancing upwards just a bit to look at the window of their bedroom, he could remember bits and pieces of the nursery that he grew up in when he wasn't learning all that he could about the world from the eyes of the government. "see, my father was in debt and the only way to get out of it was to sell me. my mother had passed away when i was only a year old so i don't even remember what she looked like--not that i really remember my old man either." he then eyed paulie for a moment. "i was two when i was sold, from what i was told it wasn't much-babies don't really sell much, not like slaves who could actually do labor, but it was enough to get him out of debt and then some so he took the deal and never looked back."

he was starting to fiddle with his hands now as he thought about the training.

"they started out like a school, i guess, you know, learning to read and write, math and science and such, so it wasn't so bad at first," yet another breath left his throat, head shaking slightly. "but then when i turned ten they called it an advanced curriculum. teaching me how to hone my body to become stronger, there were nights that i came back to the dorms aching with pain, cuts and bruises all over my body but i couldn't complain." no, if he did so much as weep at the pain he'd have wake up the next day without any breakfast--without food for even a day kaku learned quickly not to show any agony of the days training.

"my training to become an actually assassin didn't really start until i was around fifteen. i got my first gun and was taught how to shoot it, taught how to zip around without being noticed--it's how i got so good at jumping across this city actually, so it wasn't all that bad." he always had to look at the positive of his trainings or he'd lose it. "i learned how to read pulses to check of people were lying--" he was sure that skill in and of itself would bring back some bad memories from paulie, but he did say he was curious about his childhood upbringing. "and then the guns turned into using my fingers to pierce people's skin, my legs now act like swords--i can cut a building in two if i wanted to.." he grew silent, unsure if he wanted to keep talking about this.

"i know now how wrong the world government is, but they did teach me some techniques that have gotten me to where i am today." did he regret his choices back on that day? of course he did, but at the same time if he didn't grow up the way he did he couldn't fight as well as he could now. "but now i use those techniques to keep this city safe, keep us safe..y'know?"

spilling his guts onto the floor, he hated himself somedays because of his past, and now that paulie knew a bit more about it--could he hate him now, too?

[teachmenari]

Teach me! - y/n and company

Tighnari × GN reader

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

y/n l/n

Third year at the Akademiya University (or just Akademiya for short), you've settled in nicely after moving to Sumeru City two years ago, fleeing a bad relationship with your parents. Unfortunately, you picked the first major you could get your hands on to get here and so ended up with one containing a lot of math and science - which you could usually manage before this dreadful year...

Lumine and Aether

Second years at the Akademiya after a year at Teyvat University, Lumine and Aether are your best friends. You met them right after moving to Sumeru City and it's like you guys grew up together. Global communications majors, everyone knows them and someone always has a favor to ask them. They find it hard to say no.

Ayaka

Second year at the Akademiya and a fashion design major, she is the sweetest soul you ever met and always has your back. The twins introduced you and she has been part of the friend group ever since. Ever the optimist, she tries to get you to see the glass half full even when it's difficult. She has made everyone in the group custom clothes at least once and would've made even more if you hadn't stopped her before she got burnt out-

Kazuha

Second year at the Akademiya, biochem major. He's your roommate and the first person to make you feel at home in the new city. He's the one who introduced you to the twins. His Twitter account is dedicated to drama, and he can be a tad too nosy for his own good, but his blackmail folder has never failed you.

Xiao

Third year at the Akademiya, a philosophy major and Kazuha's childhood friend. It's almost impossible to get him to use his main for anything, but he will complain about the smallest things in the most angsty way on his priv. It's a small celebration everytime he does tweet on his main, and Childe buys everyone drinks. He bonded with you over shitty bio parents and is now one of your most loyal friends.

Yanfei

Second year at the Akademiya, Yanfei pursues a criminology major. She is the one to go to whenever you're in trouble with the law - and hypothetically would help you get away with murder if you feed her well enough. You both met at a party away from the group, where you pet the house dog together for three hours while chatting. She often has to be the voice of reason but prefers going along with whatever bit the group has going on.

Childe

The oldest of the group. He dropped out a year ago and has been selling spicy pics on his onlyfans, making bank in the process and earning himself the title of the group's sugar daddy. He often offers to pay for everyone, despite the rest of you insisting that he paid three times in a row and you want to treat him instead. While he can be childish (👁👁) he is still a really good therapist friend and can make you laugh easily when you're upset.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Teach me!

masterlist - sumeru gang

▪︎Synopsis ➤ You’ve been attending the Akademiya for some time now, but for some reason this year is harder than the others. You’re failing almost everything regarding math and science. Your biology teacher, Ms. Rukkhadevata, offers the help of Tighnari, her TA... Let’s just hope he’s nice.

a/n: I know the gang is not from sumeru but I wanted y/n to have a group of buddies already, so there you go lol ALSO I MESSED UP AYAKA'S ACCOUNT IS PUBLIC

[bitchineering]

You don't know me... but let's work on that

Okay so like, I'm never active anymore. Really just gave up being active on tumblr because who the f is active here. Also I have a funny name now so it's fine- don't hate me for it.

Anyway, I thought, wow I really hate some stuff with teaching and no one having resources to free educational things so I thought to myself, why don't I just post items on here?!

Yea so that's what this is. You have classes you want to take, you don't have the ability to learn almost everything you ever wanted? Your teacher sucks ass? Well hopefully this helps makes everything better.

Mostly, all resources I know are about science and math (🫢wow surprised?!), and they can be tailored for whatever you need in long run. This became much longer than I thought it would be lol!

Topics Included:

Computer Science

Physics/Engineering

Math (HS Algebra and up)

Arts/Humanities

Computer Science

https://github.com/ossu/computer-science: this literally builds so much for coding and getting someone into programming. I wouldn't necessarily recommend it for some classes (I don't know how much it would help with AP Computer Science or Principles, but it has so much information, anyone really wanting to learn about code could get started with this.

https://www.freecodecamp.org/: another win website, I'd def say a little more chaotic (?). It depends how you want to learn you know. Love the web design bs, not really into it, but their tuts and videos were helpful enough for myself.

https://cs50.harvard.edu/x/2023/: Another beauty, these lectures really give so much for programming. Classes are held where you can even attend without being a harvard student. Lectures are intense imo, as it is a lot of content all in your face but just love the guy.

https://www.youtube.com/@alexlorenlee: Java. If you need any help in starting Java, I love these videos. He got me through a horrible class in my uni. Love him fr fr.

https://www.youtube.com/@crr0ww: Learning about any sorta malware, educational resources to get started with understanding your network, overall, just a really smart and funny guy. Love his videos. Really good at explaining basic contents.

https://www.youtube.com/@ColinGalen: Recommend his learning videos and how to think almost like a chess grandmaster. My own cs professor talks about drawing out code and being able to actually write what is going on in code.

Physics/Engineering/Sciences?

(sorry, I'm not mechanical engineer 🙈)

Electrical Engineering: Youtuber Michel Van Biezen is AMAZING. Also, dude as a sick ass drip and I love the bow tie. His circuits and physics lectures are so entertaining and helpful to understand. I really really really loved his videos as they helped me pull my grades up. His explanations are top tear, I really feel like he's so good at this.

GaTech Coursera Circuits: There are two of these classes here.

DC Circuit Analysis: First course. Helps you learn almost everything you should have learned in Physics Two and if not, don't worry they explain it somewhat well. Videos are condensed and good enough for someone to watch. Just know they don't do calculations on screen, and those can be pretty lengthy to solve.

AC Circuit Analysis: Same as above, they don't have as many items for this course, but def know it is a good course and necessary for understanding more modern circuit applications.

Every engineer wants to be him -> Michael Reeves , if you've never heard of him, please. This man will make you want to recreate his robots. He's a genius. He's everything every engineer wishes they could be.

NileRed : Do you want to be a fake chemist because Ochem made you want to die?? Well actually I just took chem 1 and changed my major, but NileRed it literally so fun. His chem videos are so fun and cool.

Thought Emporium -> mad biology scientists? Love this guy too! He's trying to be Spider-man and I love him for that. I hope he recreates those spiderwebs, I've been watching it for so long. Love this dude.

Robotics Engineering: Done by a youtuber who love for the anime reps!!! This guy focuses more on VR/AR, but loves carrying the same vibes as Michael Reeves, a Russian youtuber I know, and just overall very fun.

Mechatronics: Things to know for going into the field of Mechatronics (basically this is Robotics, just the more machine side). They recommend having that backbone in the core classes.

Learning for Engineering Students: Love that someone who was an actual engineer made some sort of engineering studying help. Would totally recommend watching, along with some other youtubers,

Tamer Shaheen (Mechanical Engineer) notes and exam recitation guides

British Engineer Loved her video, really similar to my own method of doing repeated practice problems.

My own study method!!! Create a google docs with Three columns:

Topic -> Usually this is how I'd organize the question. I did docs like these for each class, so I instead would put this as some topic within my class OR I would organize it by assignment it correlated to. I.E. alternating circuits or homework

Question -> really self explanatory, make sure to give details, dates, who you think you should ask, etc etc. There are no dumb questions, I'd really recommended these for computer science and would totally give my notes out for that shit.

Answers -> another self explanatory category, however, would recommend doing something a lil different with this box. Don't overwrite explanations. Also, don't take explanations. Write your own understanding of the solution, and a link/cite/provide some evidence for you or someone to turn back to.

Math

Organic Chemistry Tutor: Just, this man is everything. He has so many videos not only for chemistry but for other classes. I put him in math mostly because I used him for calculus I and II.

Khan Academy : Tbh, I loved their calculus course material. I'm not the biggest fan of them overall with some other provided materials (Like their SAT prep, really is only effective for helping students take it online and grading fast, but I'm pretty sure I have another post explaining how I found online materials for that bs and got a passing grade).

3 Blue 1 Brown (Math/ Calculus) : I feel like everyone knows him, he's so good at visualizing concepts. Great but still very complex videos, please understand that before going in. You might not be able to understand everything on first try, but always draw them out.

Studying Pure Math : Once you finished calculus and would enjoy some rigorous applications/learn about higher levels of math, this youtuber has linked a multitude of resources for those mathematical desires lol.

Small ideas of what is mathematics but this is such a beautiful video in explaining how mathematics is built up from each other. I think it changes your idea of how to study math (however, he does say you shouldn't memorize this stuff, but in the next bullet point, I wanted to show how I studied for math which did involve memorizing methods).

Studying thing I learned from youtuber but had sorta done myself, just think showing off this youtuber who's in oxford is fun!!!!

(Okay so I didn't find it, but the youtuber I thought who said the idea was Lucy Wang, still linking channel for the woman in math!!!).

So, in class you should be writing down examples, writing questions to the side, and looking for a pattern. When you find this pattern, you can organize your notes and your test answers. So like when doing an optimization problem in calculus, you have to draw the system, set up equations, ask what are you solving for, and the show the methods you used to solve. I would also recommend this for any numerical questions (for me, this included circuits, physics, and other math classes I've taken for a long time).

Professor Leonard: This man saved my calculus III grade. I love him. Please, he has almost all calculus classes, I don't think he has finished Differential equations and possibly one of his algebra courses, but his information is just great. His method of teaching is also phenomenal. And in the last video of his multivariable calculus playlist, he had the best quote ever. His wife and him were expecting a child, and he stated (this is horribly paraphrased but this was all I was thinking during my own calc III final):

"I'm pregnant- wait no- my wife's pregnant... But damn, I bet you I'd look good pregnant."

Arts/Literature/Humanities

https://www.youtube.com/@Chommang: Beautiful art, really enjoyed drawing alongside. Implores you to find your own style, but helps with anatomy, reference drawing, I literally knew nothing about this bs. But I really enjoy the videos.

Puppet History : Okay. So I know what you'll say if you saw these videos. But really, just if you want to start with history, it's such a good introduction, such a fun cast, and the lore is also something that I really think makes characters funny, long lasting, god. It's just so good and well written for some youtube puppet fever dream.

Reading Analysis: Literally just came up on my rec on youtube. Really nice in explaining the actual analysis of the text.

Japanese: I used it for practicing listening to Japanese, mostly just me trying to recognized sounds and words. I'm still a beginner in Japanese, cannot actually hold conversations, but this has helped me listen to others better.

Geography Now!: Learning anything about countries/ needing to learn about countries relationships, just enjoy knowing much trivia. I'd recommend this for those items. Also like, learning about other countries are so much fun! I would def say, there are countries he doesn't examine as in depth, ie, India. But if you're just getting into geography boom, here you go.

Some other recommendations for history, look up on coursera, edx, I mostly learn alot of these topics on youtube with video essays. Ngl, your own political beliefs will heavily affect how you learn these topics. There's no way around this. I hope for the sake of whomever, just please, learn both sides actual arguments. And if debates ever turn to arguments/yelling matches, leave. You need to have a strong sense of self- and in the end, if the other person doesn't understand or want to, there's nothing you can do about it. You can keep thinking your own beliefs, or feel inclined to research the topic later. If anyone gives you shit for believe in something that turns out to be factually incorrect, accept how you were wrong, why you were wrong, and understand that being wrong is a path of knowledge. If someone else believes you are wrong, however, they can't factual cite this, that is just a disagreement over some topic.

A thing I've said to others, is that everyone interprets the bible differently. You interpret His messages in a way I can never understand. And I the same. Since I cannot tell you how to interpret the bible, you cannot tell me. Something I truly believe is everyone has their own connection with God (not saved to Christianity, I know this is from an idiot in the bible belt in the USA but we'll deal with that later), and that connection guides them through life.

So for building this mindset, some books/videos I'd recommend:

*Please know, these books may contain triggering/unpleasant topics that readers should look into before selecting a book to read.*

The Myth Of Sisyphus, Albert Camus

Everyone's favorite psychopath, No Longer Human Osamu Dazai

Capitalism Realism Mark Fisher

Ecrits Jacques Lacan

Make It Stick Science of Successful Learning

Absurdism: A video similar to topic above, less academia-y language.

Classics Worth Reading: love love love Emmie! Her videos are pretty fun and I really enjoyed her classics recommendation.

Small amount of topics to go look up, search what you love, stay away from what you don't like. In the end, help yourself become a well rounded person by building up those ideas.

If yall wanna add more, please please please! Education is something I'll never get enough of. I believe it should be free, nonpolitical, and inspiring for all. Everyone deserves education because it makes us smart, capable, and healthy individuals. It builds our future. Good luck in your educational future. Hopefully I have spur of the moment to post my small study ideas, or resources for studying, so that others can focus being more time efficient. Just remember, control f (windows <3) or command f (mac users) to find whatever you need.

[paigesprojectpan]

Here's Why You Shouldn't Give Me A Scholarship

You shouldn’t give me a scholarship because I have withdrawn from three courses so far in my college career. Because I chose to take seven dual-enrollment courses instead of eight in high school. Because I have severe imposter syndrome within my chosen major. Because I already have a 40,000 scholarship. Because my parents work hard and make good choices with their money. Because I am white. Because I am not going into healthcare or music, engineering, coding, or even dance. I don’t deserve a scholarship because I procrastinate and then have missing assignments and because my room is messy.

I could think of a million more reasons why you shouldn't give me a scholarship. I don’t set aside time for assignments, I do not apply often to scholarships or internships. I am not in more than two clubs on campus. But I am a summer camp counselor. I have been for five years. I pick up shifts at Steam Anchor Coffee Co. where I work. I have always picked up extra shifts. And it has never been for money. It is because I liked my job. I like working with kids. I like to write, but not when someone else tells me what to write, where I can take evidence from, how long the piece has to be, and when I have to have it complete. I like to learn, but when I find things interesting. 

I am more in the Chemistry Teacher Education major for teaching than chemistry. And as I have said, ‘if not me then who?’ If I don’t pick up this shift and help someone else out, then who will. Because the group chats are most often silent. The National Science Foundation created a nation-wide scholarship for university juniors and seniors studying to become teachers in the STEM subjects. At my school there are 3 math majors, 2 bio, and 1 chem. Me. There are no physics teachers. I was not even a junior when I received my scholarship. I was a sophomore with junior hours thanks to the 7 dual-enrollment courses in high school.

My mom is going to be so mad at me because I had to withdraw from both of my summer classes. I did not make a lick of time for either of them in the first week. And, well, it set me up for failure. Late work gets zero’s in the gradebook so I would have an ‘F’. But instead I choose ‘W’. I have withdrawn from a class before. I withdrew from a psychology course my second semester of freshman year at Clinton Community College. I was registered for 5, 16-week classes and I looked at the workload after syllabus week and said, “Nope.” I got 100% tuition reimbursement though since I withdrew during the first week.

This is starting to sound like a sob-story and I hate it.

I am thinking of completely leaving college altogether. But I do not want to be considered a drop-out. I want to get a degree in something since I am already here. But, when I come home for summer I am blinded with the amount of people that go straight into the workforce or military after high school. Or they stopped after receiving an associate’s or a certificate or license. I am not sure I am cut out for the length of time it will take me to finish my bachelor’s in Chemistry Teacher Education (especially since I withdrew from two classes this summer).

I really liked geology, but I am not sure I liked it enough to do a whole major in it. I have said this about concerts as well. I like Taylor Swift, but I’m not sure I like her enough to go sit through 3 hours of her.

Am I screwed? No one is going to give a summer job to someone wanting to start in mid-June and leaving and mid-August. No one is going to give a scholarship to someone who would rather see a ‘W’ on her college record than an ‘F’. No one is going to give a scholarship to someone who procrastinates so bad she just doesn’t do her assignments. No one is going to give a scholarship to a hypocrite.

[everythingismadeofchaos]

I get that YouTube drama is some pretty weak shit to get interested in. I get that most of YouTube contains misinformation, often the people you hear from are not qualified to really promulgate the ideas that they are waving around like giant flags, that a lot of YouTube is just people disagreeing with each other and making responses to responses to responses to responses. Logical fallacies fly back and forth like cannonballs. One side accepts facts the other one doesn't.

But it's a hell of a gift that if I have a passing interest in something vaguely controversial among kooky people, like astronomy is to the flat Earthers, or like actual history is to the biblical literalists, or like evolutionary biology is to the young Earth creationists, I can get to know specific YouTubers with actual qualifications and come to trust them and learn an enormous amount a specific field of study while listening to the glorious evisceration of these grifting cretinous assholes. It is an absolute pleasure beyond belief to hear somebody like Paulogia casually and politely and calmly go through a Ken Ham video point by point pointing out every lie, every intentional misstatement, while a guest, represented by a cartoon on his show, often sporting credibility in the form of an advanced degree from an accredited University, casually teaches me real information about how the world actually works.

Science presenters on television used to work so hard. They had budgets far beyond what a guy in his basement in Canada has access to. And they produced great things, like Carl Sagan's Cosmos show or Connections, starring James Burke. Those things are marvelous and instructive pieces of art that give you a casual familiarity with interesting quirks of history or facts that you can read entire books about later but at the very least keep you informed as to what the current human understanding is as regards some specific field of study.

But Gutsick Gibbon keeps me entertained. It's not even a fair contest. It's like watching the Tampa Bay buccaneers play a game of American football against my 10-year-old nephew's baseball team. It's not even close. She's a PhD student arguing with a breatharian. But the drama is so fun. It's so satisfying to hear these posturing nitwits actively making stuff up and misinterpreting stuff they heard on one of these preposterous History Channel shows about aliens and the pyramids, carefully edited together with measured responses that teach me more about anatomy and human history than I learned watching a decade's worth of documentaries in my twenties.

Sci Man Dan. Gutsick Gibbon. Paulogia. HealthyGamerGG. Dan McClellan. The Green brothers, Hank and John. Stand-Up maths. The Millennial Gardner. Emma Thorne. Lindsay Nikole. Dami Lee. Sabine Hossenfelder. EV Nautilus. Yoga with Adriene, Oh God how could I forget someone who makes me feel 5 years younger if I pay enough attention to her. Rocky Kanaka ... I learned a little bit about dog psychology from my sister, who used to train dogs, and a little bit about it from my friend who used to rescue and foster dogs, but I learned a lot from Rocky Kanaka, and his videos are so positive and upbeat sometimes they make me cry a little bit. In a good way, I mean. There's so much stuff to learn. You have to fact check things, but all of these people are just giving me all of this knowledge for free. That's a brilliant thing and I treasure it. Crime Pays but Botany Doesn't! Learn new things and have a brilliant time at the same time! And I can listen while I'm driving around and doing nothing important anyway! I just can't watch like that obviously. But still! It's great! Anton Petrov! Sauti Reese! Good god, I've learned things from Sir Sic I'd never thought about before, and that guy is, well, a dumb. Edit: dear God, how could I forget about Angela Collier? And I'm sure there are other people I'm forgetting about.

I'm so pleased to be here you guys. Going to go cut the grass with my noise suppression earbuds. I love you all

[bippot]

Hi! I love your writing. Do you have any ideas for an enemies to lovers w Spencer?

Ask and you shall recieve. Happy new year!!!

Daffodils

Story Summary -> Spencer's mouth moves faster than his brain whenever he's around the Film Studies professor. She's smart. She's cool. And he's made a fool of himself in front of her.

So, to save him from heartbreak, he's decided he doesn't like her. It's a lie, and not a very good one.

Tags -> Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Language of Flowers, Professor Spencer Reid, Professor Reader

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For all of his life, Spencer thought he was an easy person to get along with. He had friends who were happy to have him around despite the fact that he often lectured them about everything and anything. Diana had raised him to be polite and well behaved, so he never failed to answer anyones questions with an appropriate response without hesitation. He wasn't vulgar. Didn't swear. Never stolen anything in his entire life. He did not drink or smoke, and drugs were a touchy subject these days.

Then, he met Y/N. She was a fellow professor at Marbury University and was renowned across campus - if she wasn't teaching, she could be found either helping the drama club film videos or doing follow up tutorials and study sessions for whatever students needed it - and was loved for it.

And she was pretty. Like, really pretty. Whether it was her skill at lecturing or her face, Dr L/N held the unofficial record for the most audited class. Dr Reid was second place - and for once he didn't mind getting a silver medal - and it would take him a while to close the gap between their class sizes. He'd heard about her in the staff room. All good things. A real glowing report card. Everyone loved her and for good reason, apparently. Their paths were yet to cross.

That was until he realised her lecture was directly before his every Monday at 9 and decided to be early - a full two hours early - to check out if she was as good as everyone said she was. And there she was in all her glory, the Dr L/N he'd heard so much about sat back on her desk and waved everyone as they walked in, the occasional student getting a 'Like your new haircut, Bethany!', 'Ready for class, Joe?' or even 'Did you get the email I sent you about the Paramount internship you asked me about, Darla?'

Okay, she was kind too. Kind and pretty. Kind and pretty and obviously smart enough to get a doctorate. Admittedly, she did have a doctorate in Film Studies, and Spencer wasn't entirely sold on the idea that Film as a subject was something worth getting a doctorate in. He liked movies.

A particular favourite of his was 80's Soviet parallel cinema - well, he was a fan of most forms samizdat (rebellious ideals and ideologies presented through art in an attempt to be an act of defiance in the face of the Soviet Union) - because there was so much so much poignant commentary and emotional depth that it was impossible not to love.

But why would you devote your life to silly little movies rather than maths and science and the study of thought - like Psychology or Philosophy - that can literally help save lives? How was knowing about the French New Wave ever going to be useful in real life? In pub quizzes, yeah, but where else?

"Hello, hello, hello everybody!" She greeted cheerfully and stood up, waving her arms around for emphasis. "Welcome my lovelies to our first meeting of the semester."

The black skirt she was wearing was long and frilly and had a pattern that mostly consisted of crescent moons and, most important to Reid, swished whenever she took a step. For the first couple of minutes, he didn't hear a thing she was saying because the swishing was far too mesmerising. It wasn't like him to avoid learning and put all his focus on the aesthetics of a person rather than what they were teaching him. Yet, he was doing just that.

Y/N didn't look like a stereotypical lecturer. Her outfit was far from professional attire. The aforementioned skirt was paired with a graphic tee with Indianna Jones and the word 'DILF' across the chest - and even though he had no idea what DILF means, Spencer knew it was something risque by how one of her students covered their giggle with their hand as soon as they saw it - and worn out bright red cowboy boots. She had smudged eyeliner that looked messy enough that she may have slept in it. Her hair was fluffy and untamed, but in that way that is obviously styled to look like that.

Weirdly, even though he was conforming to the standard he'd seen among his fellow lecturers, right then in the room with her, he felt like he was the odd one out.

"I know when I was going through school, all my professors kept assigning movies that college kids don't really want to watch," she began, leaning against the podium casually, her hands resting on her hips like she owned the place and he was nothing but an honoured guest. "One of my professors - his name was Mr Lockley - he assigned my class the film 'The Cure for Insomnia'. Has anyone heard of it?"

Silence. Once Spencer realised that her students didn't know, he was raising his hand.

"Yes, Dr Reid?"

Oh, she noticed he'd snuck it. And she knew his name. Cool. They did work together so it wasn't that outlandish.

"The Cure for Insomnia is the longest film ever made. It's 5,220 minutes long - that's 87 hours, or 3 days and 15 hours - and has no plot. Instead, the filmmaker read his 4,080-page poem," Spencer answered, looking around the hall, waiting for someone to tell him to shut up. He was also aware that he probably sounded like a total nerd, but he couldn't help himself.

No one did tell him to shut up. That was the main thing he loved about lecturing, he got to ramble and was paid for it. His students got to learn extra details and it's not as if they were going to tell him to be quiet like his friends at the BAU did.

She smiled sweetly, confirmed, "That is correct, Dr Reid," then returned her focus to the class. It made sense. Why would she pay attention to him when she had a job to do? It made a little pang in his chest appear but he ignored it because that was beyond unprofessional.

What could he do? Stand on the desk and demand that they have a conversation that ends with her saying, 'Wow, Dr Reid, you're so smart. Would you like to get coffee some more so you can continue to impress me with the sheer amount of knowledge you have stored inside that adorable head of yours?'

Her explanation continued. "John Henry Timmis IV, whose name sounds fancy but this guy was an unsung rock god who created music that he called 'heavy glitter' or 'destructo-rock', and for his movie, apparently he got his poet buddy, Lee Groban, to recite his very long poem then spliced that together with porn clips and heavy metal," Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she said the last sentence.

Instantly, a mumble went across the class, primarily because a teacher mentioned x-rated material, but she shushed them quickly by clapping her hands together. It was a casual movement, but one that got everyone looking at her once again.

"Can anyone hazard a guess what's weird about this movie, other than the run time?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a hand go up but she wasn't going to call on them, and so, Spencer was left with his palm facing towards the stage. Y/N amended her question, "Can any of my students take a guess? Dr Reid, I'd appreciate it if you'd give my class at least 2 minutes so they can Google the answer."

Once again, silence met her question until it was broken by a shy voice. A girl in the front row with curly blonde hair was looking at her expectantly. Y/N smiled encouragingly and nodded for her to speak up louder. "The film was lost?" The girl said hesitantly.

"Like always, Jennifer, you are correct!" Y/N exclaimed happily. Jennifer blushed, embarrassed by the attention and compliment but smiling nonetheless as Y/N moved on to another question. "The film was lost. The film was shown at the School of the Art Institute in Chicago Illinois, and it ran from January 31st to February 3rd. So when Mr Lockley set his essential viewing, he knew exactly who'd tried to do their homework based on their reaction when he asked what they thought of the film."

The lecture went on for another twenty minutes and for the entire time, Spencer was completely transfixed by Y/N. She spoke passionately and lit up as she explained things to her audience, and sometimes, when a particularly insightful answer came her way, Spencer was sure he could see the stars in her eyes. Her enthusiasm was infectious, it almost radiated off of her and filled up the classroom in an instant.

He couldn't help himself, Spencer found his eyes wandering over every part of her body, studying every inch of her before he'd had the chance to properly comprehend that he was being a creep. Appreciating beauty was one thing, leering at women he hadn't met before is another.

As her student piled out of the lecture hall, all chatting loudly as they walked out, Spencer waited. A group of girls surrounded Y/N and asked her a bunch of questions, and she answered them all like she was their cool older sister rather than someone who was paid to teach them things. Then they left too, and the pair were alone.

"Did you enjoy the class, Dr Reid?" she asked kindly, a smile tugging at her lips as she turned around slightly. She sat on top of the nearest desk and folded her legs under her, resting her elbow on her knee and her head on her fist.

"I've always thought of film studies as a throwaway field of study - if I were to study it, it would be more of a recreational degree than my other ones. But yes, you were very entertaining."

Shit. Her face fell. And he instantly regretted having said that. He hadn't meant to offend her. But he clearly did.

"You're a professor of...?"

"Psychology."

A second passed in which Y/N processed that. She blinked, looked at the floor and started fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

"But I probably should've picked Mathematics, Chemistry or Engineering because that's what I have my PhD's in. I only have a Bachelors in psychology - along with my other Bachelors sociology and my most recent in philosophy - but I have a lot of field work in the general area of psychology (or more specifically, Criminology) so I didn't feel as if I was under qualified for the position," he rambled, knowing his words were coming out of his mouth incredibly fast, like he had just poured everything out at once, but he was unable to stop himself.

Spencer wanted to apologise for offending her but that was the one thing his mouth wouldn't let spill.

"Did you feel qualified for your position?" he inquired, intending it to be a genuine question but when he heard it out loud, oh no, it sounded far too much like he was questioning the legitimacy of her employment.

Her eyebrows raised for the briefest moment as she stared at him, searching for the reason behind his words and not finding one. Then, once she made her judgement, she stood up, brushed off her lap and gathered her bag. "I have to go," she said abruptly, "Good luck with your lecture: I can hear your class arriving. I hope you find it more worthwhile than mine."

With that, she left without sparing him another glance. The door closed with a thud and Spencer took a minute or two to stare blankly after her, the feeling of disappointment washing over him as he watched her leave. Well, he'd fucked that up.

They'd occasionally see each other in passing. If Spencer ever did sit in on her lectures (which he did quite a bit), he didn't engage. Any time he happened to see her at a staff event and she would be kind and laugh along with their peers, but would become quiet whenever he was pulled into the conversation. So, after a while, he stopped trying to interact with her. Why would he? She was judging him based on one interaction - yeah, he'd called her life's work worthless during it - but that was just a slip up. If she stopped being so childish and let him speak to her, they could be friends.

Months and months went on. What was hope turned into hate. Did Y/N really think her job was more important than his? He literally used his knowledge to catch serial killers! What did she do? Write lengthy books about the Marxist interpretation of the Shrek franchise. Or the feminist allegory of Jennifer's Body. Or whatever about some niche movie that nobody's heard from and probably never cared about. Could she save someone's life with that?

Once upon a time, he'd planned to apologise. Now? Fuck that. Would she apologise to him about being so dismissive to him? Probably not. It was better that way. He lived a hectic life and if they were ever friends - or something more than that - she'd be indirectly dragged into a part of that. Besides, he didn't need any more friends anyway. It wasn't worth it. She wasn't worth it.

Sure, it didn't help that he did the occasional thing here and there to annoy her.

If she was in her office with students (which conveniently to the right of his), he'd play his jazz records a smidge too loud.

Any time she'd offer to show one of the investors or a prospecting customer around the humanities buildings, he'd pop up and listen just in case she got a fact wrong so he could correct her right in front of her guests.

And there was this one time he'd heard her promote some of the safer movie pirating websites to her students. She'd said that there was no conceivable way that a student was going to be able to pay to watch all of the movies she'd put on the essential viewing because they were scattered across all of the streaming sites. Spencer agreed with that logic. He still wrote the Dean an email about it though. It is illegal.

When the new academic year commenced, their disagreement with one another turned into a feud. It was over something so simple and easy to sort out that it was as if they were acting like children. It was a squabble for the sake of it.Both of them had been called to the Head of Humanities office the day before classes officially started to have a meeting about their new schedules and it had not gone well, mostly because Spencer had requested her usual time slot.

"I booked Taliesin Hall for 9-11 on Mondays like I've done every year since I started working here," Y/N argued, leaning back in her chair and throwing out her arms.

Why had he done it? To be a dick? Well, yes and no. He wanted to be a dick to her, but it was also because he'd moved apartments and his new place was further away. He didn't want the original time they'd given him for Monday mornings because he wasn't a morning guy and he'd have to get up early to make it on time.

Because Spencer was more accomplished and more people knew his name, he brought a lot of attention to the university just by being employed there. Therefore, if he wanted the hall at 9 on a Monday, he'd have the hall at 9 on a Monday. It didn't matter that Y/N had worked there for longer, or was more proactive about engaging with the uni's residents, or that she had more students than he did.

"Dr Reid, are you willing to change time slots with Dr L/N?" Dean Mitchell asked with a sigh. If he had hair to pull out, he would've at this point.

"No I am not."

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to deal with your current time, Dr L/N."

Spencer crossed his arms and leant back in his chair to mimic Y/N teasingly, unable to hide the smug smile from his face. This was a little different from their usual spats. They rarely ever argued. It was primarily Reid going out of his way to make her life just that bit more difficult and Y/N rolling her eyes but, ultimately, it didn't change much about her day.

On that day he managed to get a reaction. She let out a groan - one that was defeated and tired and almost seemed desperate - and tapped her foot a few times. Her hand came up to wipe the corner of her eye briefly as a couple of stray tears escaped. And it made him feel like shit.

"Thank you very much, Dr Reid," she replied sarcastically. He watched as she stormed down the corridor, muttering something about visitation times, and left the office.

Yeah, he'd won. He should've felt victorious. He didn't. There was something far too raw in her voice for him to truly think this was part of the fun little game he was playing on her. He felt awful. And guilty. And stupid for making her cry. This was something beyond just a schedule change, he knew that. And if he pretended not to care, eventually he wouldn't care.

"What was that about?" Mitchell queried, taking a sip from his tea and watching him intently as he put the cup down.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Technically, that was a lie. Spencer could use his profiling skills on Y/N to deduce as much as he could about her, but looking at her in a deeper way would mean that he would really have to look at her. He'd have to see that face for an extended period of time and not fall into her trap of thinking that she was the most interesting woman he'd ever met. Because she wasn't. How could she be? Y/N was just another person in a line of hundreds.

Instead of saying all that, Spencer shrugged nonchalantly and exited the room, waving his goodbye to Dean Mitchell as he left.

That night, he stayed up thinking and tossing and turning about what he said. He thought a thousand thoughts that night, but he kept coming back to one thing: he made her cry. He'd actually done that. Like a fucking asshole. What was he even trying to prove? That he was better than her? That she was missing out on him being in her life? Because, if anything, he'd purposely trying to fuck with her for months now and probably was better off before she met him.

He'd find out the reason why it had gotten to her so badly a few weeks later. It was time for the monthly staff meeting and there was one chair - that was usually occupied - unoccupied. Both of them were creatures of habit and always sat in the same spot so it was obvious when the chair in front of Spencer remained empty. He'd often kick the back of her foot - like an actual child instead of a fully grown adult man - to annoy her until she sat cross legged on the chair to prevent him from continuing. But, Y/N wasn't there. He was staring into space and not the back of her head.

Gordon Patel, one of the performing arts lecturers that Spencer had observed talking to Y/N often, leant across and whispered to him, "Y/N's not coming."

"Do you know why?"

"Her mother's getting worse."

Honestly, he had no clue what was going on with Y/N's mother and urged, "Yeah?"

"She's been bad for a while now." Gordon paused. "If I remember correctly, Y/N said she's in and out of the ICU. Y/N used to check up on her after work but 'somebody' messed that up."

A sick mom? A pang of empathy hit him hard at that comment. He could relate to that. And he'd made her life harder when she was in a situation like that, well, he felt like shit about it now. He nodded silently and tried to focus on his own discussion, though his mind was elsewhere entirely. If he thought he felt like shit before, he sure as hell felt ten times worse now. The whole thing with Y/N really was eating him up inside and he had no idea how to deal with it or where to go. He couldn't even talk to her without sounding like a complete idiot.

So, he didn't talk to her. Yet, Spencer was always watching - maybe it was a habit of being a profiler, or maybe it was because why would he pay attention to anything else if Y/N was there? - and he'd noticed that she was getting more withdrawn by the day. Even her smile wasn't genuine anymore. Eye bags were her new accessory.

Somehow, her passion remained. It was evident in her actions, even if they were short lived. She was still determined to teach and she didn't take no for an answer, especially when it came to her class. With everything going on behind the scenes, she'd arranged for her class to go on field trips if there was anything filming in the general area of the uni and was often seen out in the quad with a camera in her hands, aiding whichever student was deciding to make a film that week.

However, Spencer did allow himself to be a little kind to her. Every Monday right after her lecture she'd find a single daffodil on the desk in her office and was accompanied the first time with a post it note on top that read:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Although Wordsworth was talking about finding pleasure in the natural world - specifically a field of daffodils - to Reid, the natural world was filled to the brim with germs. There was no pleasure to him in dirt and trees and the flowers themselves. Replacing Y/N with daffodils was very doable. Just like the flower's meaning, he wanted to start over with her, to have a rebirth of their relationship.

There was still a lot of anger inside of him, all pent up because he'd been trying not to fall back into his routine of being a dick and it was becoming more tempting every time she ignored him.

Surprisingly enough, the one, the only, Penelope Garcia was the reason they spoke again. For New Years Eve, Penelope had gathered her nearest and dearest in her apartment. Emily had gone back to England. JJ was with Will and her kids at Will's mother's place. Hotch and Jack were with his sister in law and father in law. Tara, Luke, Derek and his family, Kate and hers, Spencer and a couple of Penelope's buddies that he'd never met before were all squished in her apartment, which definitely wasn't suited for that many people.

Spencer was sitting on the couch with Sergio pawing at his leg when the door opened, his brows furrowing as Penelope ushered Y/N inside with an excited, "You came! I missed you so much! Come in, come, come." Penelope was crushing Y/N into a hug at the very first opportunity she had. The pair stood in the doorway for a couple of minutes, slowly swaying in their embrace, until Penelope finally broke away with a big grin.

"Look at this dress! Look at you! You're so pretty that I might die!" Penelope cheered, pulling the other girl by the hips to inspect the leopard print cami dress she was wearing. Penelope even fiddled with the fabric right at the leg slit and Y/N smoothed her hands away before the whole party was unwillingly flashed with hot pink underwear. If that had happened, Spencer wouldn't have been all that disappointed.

"Me? Look at you, my lovely! Most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Y/N cooed, twirling her friend around once so her dress would swish around a little, then Penelope did the same for Y/N.

On anyone else, that dress may have looked tacky. Spencer knew that. He didn't know much about fashion but he knew that. On Y/N? Well, he thought it was gorgeous. His eyes raked over the rest of her as she hung her leather jacket up (that Spencer knew definitely wasn't warm enough for this time of year) and was pulled toward the kitchen by Garcia. Those legs. Her thighs, her hips, those breasts, those curves, those...

Spencer blinked. Like a teenage boy, he was ogling and it didn't matter if Penelope caught him or not.

From his seat on the couch, Spencer watched the two of them interact with curiosity. They clearly knew each other well. But how? When? Where? His brain was running through all possible circumstances that could explain Penelope knowing Y/N. He didn't even realise he was glaring in their direction until two strong hands clasped down on his shoulders. He was at a party with a fair few people, one of them was going to notice at some point.

"Pretty boy, did Penelope give away the last cookie? Is that why you're brooding over here?" Derek asked, shaking him lightly as if trying to jostle him from his thoughts.

"No."

"What's wrong with your face then?"

"Nothing."

Sighing dramatically and sitting himself down next to Spencer, Derek rolled his eyes and began playing with Sergio's ears. "What's Penelope done now?"

"She hasn't done anything."

If Penelope wasn't the issue...

"Oh, I get it." Morgan nodded, looking smug as he took his eyes away from Sergio for a split second. "You haven't been introduced to Y/N yet, and instead of doing it yourself and saying hi to a lady you obviously find attractive, you're here, sulking with poor ol' Sergio."

Right on the money. Spencer groaned loudly. Of course. Why was he surprised? Morgan was good at reading his mind. He'd learned long ago that there was nothing he could do to stop his buddy from finding out anything he wanted. Spencer turned and gave him a death glare.

"I'll introduce you to Y/N."

"I already know Dr L/N."

"Dr L/N, huh? Let me take a guess, you lecture at the same college?"

Derek knew he was right. Spencer's reaction told him everything he needed to know, but he still couldn't resist teasing him further. Spencer groaned, turning red in embarrassment as he ran a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact completely and hoping to god that the conversation didn't carry any farther. If it did, he had to come clean.

But Derek had already begun laughing. "Come on, Pretty Boy." Derek teased, bumping him lightly. "Get up and talk to her."

Reluctantly, Spencer groaned louder this time but obliged and got up off the sofa with a deep sigh. It was time. He made his way into the kitchen and watched Penelope as she poured two glasses of wine, just lurking in the doorway until they noticed him.

"I made you some cookies," Penelope offered, hopping up on the counter and grinning at Y/N. "They're chocolate chip."

"My favourite."

"I know. Why do you think I made them?" Penelope reached for the tupperware of cookies and shoved them in front of Y/N. "Eat!"

Y/N said a quick, "Thank you, Penny. Love you, Penny," as she took a bite. Her eyes widened immediately at the sweet taste of the cookie, mumbling, "Soooooo good," through a mouthful of crumbs.

Just as Penelope was about to reach out to take a cookie, Spencer accidentally pressed his elbow into the light switch and plunged the whole kitchen into darkness, letting out a loud, "Ow!" because he'd hit himself right on the funny bone. He flipped the light back on. "Sorry, Pen."

"Spence! I have to introdu-"

"We know each other, Penny," Y/N cut in, placing her arm on Penelope in the hopes to calm her excitement down. The techie had been telling Y/N all about the Spencer she worked with and they'd often joked that Penelope's Spencer was miles better than the Spencer from Y/N's job. Weirdly, his last name had never come up. And alas, they were the same Spencer.

"You two know -" The penny dropped. "Oh. Oh! My dreams of the two of you becoming fast friends has been squashed flat." Penelope shook her head disapprovingly, sipping her wine and eyeing Spencer in disdain. She slapped him on the arm. "That is for being so rude all the time!"

Two more slaps on his arm soon came when all he did was whine in protest. After he got his own slaps for acting like a child, Penelope turned back to look at Y/N, who was hiding a little smirk behind her hand. "Spencer Walter Reid, you are going to be polite and kind to my very sexy friend or I will reveal your browser history to everyone at this party. Capeesh?" Penelope warned, looking like an angry pomeranian as she glared at him, a finger pointing between his eyes.

Spencer raised his hands in surrender. "Okay! Okay! Okay!"

"Say hi to Y/N. Nicely."

After a minute of silent awkwardness, Spencer cleared his throat and addressed Y/N. "So, uh, yeah. Hi."

"Hi?" Y/N repeated back with confusion written all over her face. She tilted her head to really look at him and that was it. He was suddenly even more self conscious and shifted uncomfortably on the spot under her gaze.

His eyes darted to Penelope's, who was looking between the two with a mischievous glint shining in her eyes. She wasn't a profiler but she'd known him long enough to read him like a book. The look on his face said it all. He was just a little boy pulling on the girl he liked pigtails.

"How, uh, how do you know each other?" he stuttered out to the girls, who immediately turned to catch each other's eye.

"You know I took you to the Dr Who watchalong at Noble's?"

Oh no, she likes Dr Who, too, he thought. That was another thing they had in common.

"Y/N here is a regular, just like me. We've been to how many Ren Faire's together now?" Penelope gushed, throwing her arms around Y/N and that action was very quickly reciprocated.

"Five."

"I swear it was six."

"We didn't go together the first time, we just happened to be at the same mead vendor and you didn't let me leave without forcing me to buy you a drink," Y/N reminded with amusement dancing in her eyes as she brushed Penelope's fringe out of her face with gentle fingers.

They were so affectionate to one another it was adorable. It was clear they had the kind of female friendship that was on the borders of lesbianism at times but most often was platonic. There was this yearning - not just for Y/N to act affectionately towards him - for himself to be open enough to be touched and petted and have hair lovingly stroked away from his face without retreating. He liked physical touch but there always was this barrier in the way that stopped him from allowing himself that joy.

So, yeah, he was a little jealous of Penelope. Who isn't? She's super cool and likeable?

"I count that time!"

"It's six then," Y/N conceded immediately, chuckling at Penelope's exaggerated pout.

From the other room, one of the party goers called out for their gracious host and Penelope rushed off to help, leaving the two professors to stew in the awkwardness of being alone together. Y/N looked to Reid and saw him looking nervously at his feet. He was biting on his bottom lip.

"Would you like a cookie?" she offered kindly, gesturing to the tupperware in her hands and holding them out to him when he nodded.

"...Thanks."

It was quiet again. Y/N shyly smiled in response as she handed it over to him and watched as he picked one out carefully and popped it in his mouth before making his way across the kitchen to lean against the counter opposite. They were both hesitant. It was only natural; neither of them wanted to make a scene at this party. Y/N didn't know what to say to him and Spencer seemed to notice.

"I've never been to a Ren Faire, what's it like?"

All the tension in her shoulders relaxed at once. She hadn't expected him to initiate a conversation but she was grateful for the chance to talk to him about something else. Anything else. So, she told him about her time at Ren Faire's, peppering funny stories about Penelope whenever it was a natural moment to do so, and was surprised when he listened to her.

Like, really listened with follow up questions and comments every once in a while. It was nice, she thought, to finally stop squabbling with Spencer after months of doing it nonstop.

"Maybe you can come with us next year?" Y/N offered, taking a sip from the glass of wine. She gave him a soft smile in return and then looked down at her glass, feeling a little bashful. The corners of Spencer's lips twitched into a small smile. "I'm sure Penelope wouldn't mind."

"Yeah, okay," He agreed. "I would love to try it out. Thanks for inviting me."

"And I understand if you have a case and need to go off halfway through. I'm used to it with Pen." Her fingers tapped against the counter. "I didn't know you worked for the FBI. Do you go by Dr or SSA?"

"Dr. I've worked in the BAU for so long now, but when I first started my mentor, Gideon, he made sure that everyone knew I was capable even if I was young and inexperienced." Spencer rubbed at his neck awkwardly, avoiding Y/N’s inquisitive stare. "He was a good man."

Was. She heard that loud and clear. It was a night of celebration, why would she delve deeper into the death of his mentor. One, she barely knew him. Two, it was a time to be happy. Three, they'd crawled their way from the awkwardness, she didn't want to accidently plunge them back in.

But, Spencer didn't think of that.

"How's your mother? Is she still sick?"

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the change of topic. In all honesty, she didn't think he knew her mother had been ill. Why would he know that? Why would he care? For some reason, it became difficult for her to speak, to breathe. A lump began to form in the back of her throat which forced her voice to crack in surprise. She cleared her throat and took another swig of wine in an attempt to steady herself.

“Oh, I don't want to talk about that right now.”

"Not good, huh?"

Why didn't he let the topic slip? Shit! Shit, shit, shit! She looked down, avoiding Spencer's curious gaze as she fiddled with her fingers and tried to figure out what to say. She'd never been comfortable talking about it with anyone and especially not Dr Reid.

Some innate need to comfort her came over Spencer. He was never good at this sort of thing but he'd try. He'd try so hard because he'd been such a super dick and maybe - just maybe - being a super nice and comforting guy would help ease his conscience. If not, well, that was fine too. Because at least she would get some peace of mind and the weight of everything that happened would lessen a little bit. He was determined to make amends and he needed to start somewhere, so why not start now?

His hand was reaching for hers before he could second guess his decision but he didn't pull back. Instead, he laced their fingers together, letting his thumb rub over the back of her hand gently, a gentle soothing action that felt nice. The warmth radiating from his skin and the strength of his grip on her hand made her feel safe, secure and protected in its grasp. The gesture brought her back to reality.

The sound of the party was still roaring on the other side of the wall, the noise reverberating throughout the apartment but that was just white noise for the moment. Right now she could concentrate solely on Reid.

Her eyes flicked down to their intertwined hands then up to meet his. They were warm. Comforting. A soft sigh escaped her lips. His thumb caressed the back of her hand ever so gently and his gaze was intense as they held onto each other. His eyes were filled with a certain sadness that Y/N couldn't decipher but she did know that whatever it was, it could be found in hers too.

"My mom is sick too - schizophrenia and Alzheimer's is not a great combination - our situations probably aren't entirely the same, I don't think, but I do understand and relate to it more than most." He swallowed thickly, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. His free hand gripped tightly around the edge of the countertop so it could keep him grounded. "I'm sorry you're going through this, I know the burden it is."

In a flash, her arms were around him, pulling him close to her. Spencer froze but soon melted into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her very, very slowly. He finally hugged her, his cheek resting atop her hair as he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his throat constrict at the overwhelming amount of emotions threatening to spill over.

Holy shit. She was hugging him. Actually hugging him. Physical contact! And even better, physical contact that didn't spook him into pushing her away. Even though they both knew that this wasn't how they normally acted towards one another, it was okay. They were allowed to hug even if they weren't exactly friends.

Their bodies stayed pressed against one another not saying anything for a while and, in that peace, Spencer's hand ran along the length of her arm, softly stroking upwards, until he got to her shoulder, then drifted down to her wrist, then up again, then down again, repeating the motion over and over.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't like people touching you," Y/N whispered, pulling away just slightly so she could look up at him properly. There was a hint of regret in her tone and that broke his heart. He quickly shook his head to dispel those thoughts.

"No, no. You're good," he reassured her and wound his arms around her waist again, bringing her closer to him. He hesitated briefly, not wanting to push her boundaries. "You don't have to apologise-"

"I do."

"No, if anyone should be apologising, it's me for being...this." He released one arm from around her torso to gesture to himself. "For being an ass, I mean," he amended. Y/N sighed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder, and closed her eyes. She couldn't help but chuckle at his attempt at an apology.

Yeah, he had been an ass.

Awkwardly, they disentangled from each other, not really knowing where to stand next since none of them had known quite how to behave around each other before now. Spencer stood up straight, clearing his throat in a hurry to seem normal, and Y/N mirrored his actions.

"Listen, uh...about the way I've treat-" He started, not looking Y/N in the eye because if he did, there was no way he would be able to stop his cheeks from heating up.

Confessing now would be a good thing. It would explain why he was a dick - although, did it really? - and help her piece together his motive. And, he just really wanted it off his chest. Maybe if he let the words out into the world, they might manifest into something good.

"So someone finally introduced you to the famous Dr L/N!" Derek cheered, interrupting Spencer and effectively distracting the both of them from the conversation they were supposed to be having. Reid's head dropped in anguish.

"Chocolate Thunder, how lovely to see you again," Y/N replied in an equally cheery tone and turned around to face him, being enveloped in a bear hug as soon as Morgan reached her. He patted her back lightly, grinning brightly. "Is Hank here?"

"I swear you like my child more than me? That hurts, woman!" Derek chuckled, letting her go from his hold. "Yes, my baby boy is here but you'll have to pry him from Penelope's arms to say hello."

It made sense that Y/N would know Morgan if she hung out with Garcia a lot. Before Savannah, Derek and his babygirl were attached at the hip whenever they didn't have a case or were in the process of finding a significant other since it's hard to explain to potential romantic partners that you have a platonic twin flame that you spend 24/7 with in and out of work without them getting the wrong idea. If Y/N had been friends with her during that time - which she was judging by the fact that Garcia limited herself to only one renaissance faire per year because that makes it extra special when you do finally go - she'd definitely know Morgan.

From where he stood, Spencer shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes trained on his feet, his hands in his pockets, and his expression unreadable. Morgan noticed and furrowed his brows curiously. He nudged Y/N's arm, mumbling, "Why don't you attempt to convince Pen to take a break? I bet Hank can do with a breather from all the bright colours," and Y/N did as he said.

She did do something she'd never done before, however. On her way out of the kitchen, she craned her head over her shoulder to shoot Spencer a smile and uttered a quiet, "See you later, Dr Reid."

With that, she left the two men alone. Spencer watched her retreating form with mixed feelings; on the one hand, her smile warmed him inside out. On the other hand, his confession still only existed in his brain, the words ringing loudly in his head as he tried to ignore the ache that settled deep within his core.

"Oooooooh, Dr Reid, huh? There's got to be some sort of catnip in your bumbling genius deal because that woman was throwing herself into your arms. I saw it through the door." Derek teased. "And I'm glad she did but please, for Pete's sake, get a grip already! I've seen you pine over girls before and I've only witnessed this for less than 10 minutes but this is ridiculous!"

Spencer winced in embarrassment, cursing Morgan silently to Hell and wishing that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"I was going to then you interrupted me!"

"Oh sorry, player. My bad."

"...Morgan."

Morgan cackled at Spencer's scowl before getting back on track to ease his little brother, who seemed to be struggling even worse than before. "Hey bud, come with me, Tara has been arguing with me for the past hour and I need my encyclopaedia to kick her ass," he suggested with a grin, ruffling his hair in the process.

Time ticked on, and after what felt like forever - but was in reality just an hour or so - the countdown to the new year was about to begin. As everyone gathered around the tv, Derek and Penelope winked at each other.

5...

Garcia took Hank from Y/N's arms so they'd be free, ignoring her friend's confused complaint. Morgan guided Spencer by the shoulder until he was in pushing distance of Y/N, and then he proceeded to push the lanky man in her direction.

4...

Derek wrapped his arm around Savannah's waist directly afterwards, as if he hadn't just set things in motion.

3...

Y/N caught Spencer's forearms to steady him, and her fingers curled around the sleeves of his shirt, holding on tight so he didn't trip over his own feet and hurt himself on the way.

2...

Before it had reached the inevitable conclusion of the year, Spencer was ducking his head and capturing Y/N's lips between his. For the first few brief moments, she paused, startled at the sudden action, but soon returned the kiss nonetheless. Her hand slid under the collar of his, cupping the side of his neck as he tilted his head forward to deepen the kiss.

1...

It continued through to the new year. Although when the countdown did get to 0, there were other couples having a smooch. Garcia even gave Hank a big sloppy kiss on his cheek, causing his giggle fit to make everything even more hilarious. Morgan laughed out loud while watching their friends making fools of themselves - he'd given his wife a sweet smooch and pulled away to find that the two were still lip locking.

"Jesus, pretty boy, there are children around!" Derek joked, clapping his hands loudly.

The couple broke apart, blushed bright red in embarrassment and attempted to brush themselves off as inconspicuous as possible. Spencer cleared his throat, averting his gaze towards the floor for several seconds. When he raised it again, he realised that his friends were all giving him teasing thumbs ups and whoop-inducing cheers.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this," Spencer sighed, but his being was suddenly overcome with chuckles. Happy chuckles. 'Thank fuck I finally did that' chuckles. Because, thank fuck, he finally did it.

They were teased and good naturedly taunted as everyone began to leave, one by one. It was way beyond Hank's bedtime so Morgan and Savannah were the first to part, both being insufferably enthusiastic and encouraging towards Spencers. Kate and Co were next. Penelope's other friends all seemed to leave in one big herd.

Tara quietly slipped out the door so she didn't have to fifth wheel since Luke was lingering around, looking as if he was going to be staying the night.

"I better go," Y/N stated, reluctantly pulling away from Spencer's side since he'd been trapping her against him since midnight. It was a consensual trapping, and Y/N was allowed breaks to get another drink or use the bathroom, but it was clear that he wanted her attached to his hip whenever he could.

His coworkers were astonished. Jaw dropping stuff. JJ would be so pissed she missed it for more than one reason.

"I could walk you to your car?"

"Y/N got the train, didn't you, sexy?" Penelope informed him with a smug grin. "She doesn't like driving."

Another thing they had in common.

"I got the metro too, would you want to walk there together?"

"If you're happy with leaving now, yeah... yeah, I'd like that, Spencer."

She'd never called him by his name before. It felt weird and wonderful, and so right. His name was like the sweetest, most wonderful sound in the world when it came from her lips.

"Okay, yeah."

He was beaming, and as soon as his eyes met hers, his dimples making an appearance. Penelope gripped Luke's hand far too tightly to restrain herself from letting out a ear piercing squeal of joy, and she looked like she was on the verge of bursting into happy tears at any moment.

While Y/N was in the process of gathering her belongings and bidding Penelope goodbye, he didn't move. He was frozen in place, watching her with a huge grin, as if he was afraid that I'd he broke his gaze or something, he would wake up alone in a lumpy bed and have to get to work on another gruesome murder case as soon as his feet touched the gross hotel carpet.

Luke slapped Spencer on the shoulder, physically saying 'time to go, loverboy', and pushed him towards the open door. Spencer stumbled a little and looked like he was going to say something, but he just shook his head and waited for Penelope to stop whispering in Y/N's ear before they made their escape.

It was so quiet.

Without all the music and chattering of party guests, it was so quiet. The air was cool and refreshing, and the world was practically asleep or too drunk to bother walking home. They walked side by side, at a leisurely pace, and it was nice. There was a smidge of tension - obviously, you don't make out with your coworker in front of a bunch of people without there being some unsaid things still lingering in the air - but it wasn't unbearable. If anything, it felt... comforting, almost.

They'd got to their train with mere seconds left to spare. The automatic doors closed behind them, and they were seated in the carriage as soon as they spotted free seats. There were more people on the train than in the streets, though the pair would've been huddled together even if the carriage had been free. Mostly because it was really fucking cold out.

"Are you cold?" Spencer asked Y/N as she pulled her coat tighter around herself. "Do you want my jacket?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'm fine."

Spencer didn't listen - he could literally see her shivering in her boots - and was tugging his coat off his shoulders for her.

"Spencer-"

"I'm trying not to argue with you anymore but I will. Please? If you're cold, I can help you with that."

And this time, she didn't protest as he slid his coat over her shoulders. "Thanks," she said softly, and he felt a little giddy. Even though his jacket didn't really go with her outfit, it was the best thing he'd ever seen. Y/N was wearing his clothes. His! He didn't even know how that was possible, but it was before his eyes so it had to be. He didn't know why it made him feel so damn good, but it did.

"Any time."

He couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear.

Coincidentally, they had to get off at the same train stop and, without verbalising it to her, Spencer had decided to walk her home. He was a hardened FBI agent (that was allowed to skip the physical tests because his brain was too valuable to rule out, but hey) and could walk home without being scared by all the shadow monsters that come out in the dark of the night. Plus, his apartment was in the same general direction.

During their walk, one completely normal streetlamp - completely the same as the rest of the others on the street - happened to be shining its light directly on a store that Spencer was very familiar with. Y/N, however, was more familiar with the item on show in the middle of the shop window.

"...Daffodils."

Daffodils can be found in almost any florist across the world. But it was the fact that the florist was named 'Wordsworth's', that twigged Y/N's attention. That paired with the poem meant that it wasn't so outlandish to assume that whoever left her weekly flowers probably got them from this shop. Out of the two of them, Spencer was the profiler but he could tell he was made.

The case of the appearing daffodils had been solved.

"How much money have you wasted on me?" she asked, eyes still fixed on the price sign right next to the bouquet in the window.

Spencer continued to grin at Y/N as she ogled at the flowers in the window, standing under the spotlight. It was nice to see her still be so enamoured with something he frequently bought for her. "It wasn't a waste," he announced, and he meant it. "You're worth it."

"I am?" she asked, sounding surprised. "I guess I kind of assumed you hated me before tonight."

A huff was released from his nose and averted his gaze to his shoes for a brief moment before he looked back up at her. She tilted her head a little, curious as to why he seemed so put out. "I'm really bad at dealing with my emotions," he clarified.

"Okay," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "You don't have to buy me flowers."

"I want to. I'll buy you whatever you want," he said without thinking.

Y/N laughed, the sound so light and carefree and getting closer to him until she was right before him, and for a moment, he didn't feel the chill in the air. Y/N seemed to think about it for a second, her expression flickering between amusement and nervousness, before she grabbed his face and kissed him.

It started out slow, lips barely touching lips, but it soon picked up pace until the kiss became frantic and Spencer lost his footing on a patch of icy pavement, causing them both to plummet to the floor. They hit the ground with an 'oof' and tumbled into a heap on the curb, Y/N falling on top of Spencer's chest.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, all of a sudden, they burst out laughing. Spencer leant on his elbows, grinning up at Y/N and feeling his heart rate increase at the sensation of her pressed up against him.

"Are you okay?"

"Shhhh... Just kiss me again."

So he did.

Eventually, they got up, cleaned their hands with the pocket squeezy sanitiser Spencer kept on him at all times and continued their walk home.

"Did you know that putting a bouquet in the fridge prolongs the lifespan of flowers?" Spencer began, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Really? That's not true."

"The daffodils I have in my refrigerator say otherwise."

"You don't have daffodils in your fridge."

"I do too."

Despite how earnest he sounded, she still didn't believe him. Was it really believable that he filled up his fridge for weeks with a bouquet of daffodils for her? Because he liked her so much? What did he do with his food? Did the flowers contaminate it? Or did he store them in containers? Why would he do that for her when he treated her like he had before tonight?

"I could prove it to you, if you want?"

Oh. He subtly just asked her to his place without thinking - which was good, overall - but his apartment was in no shape to host guests in. There were books everywhere. Laundry strewn on the couch. One or two half drunk coffee cups left out on the kitchen counter. It was a mess. A clean mess, but still.

"You want me to come over to check out your fridge?" she asked him.

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, we could have a coffee and I have a tub of mango sorbet that we could share." He shrugged, pretending to be all calm and casual. "But only if you want to - no pressure - seriously, none. We can forget I ever asked if -"

"Show me your fridge, Dr Reid."

Being a homebody meant that Spencer was always excited to go home. He'd never been this excited before. They hoofed it to get out of the cold, and once they were indoors, they stood in front of an opened fridge to peer inside at the batch of flowers that took up an entire shelf. He didn’t have much else going on in there - why would he keep a lot of fresh produce when he is away for extended periods that they'd become rotten during? - but the daffodils was enough entertainment.

That night, the pair ate sorbet and talked. Really talked. Spencer apologised over and over for his behaviour, and though one night wouldn't erase multiple semester's worth of annoyance, it was a start.

And when the new term commenced, Y/N was expecting to see a single daffodil on her desk as she had the previous.

She didn’t. Not a single flower was in sight.

So, in her momentary disappointment, she reached into her drawer and pulled out her scrapbook to flick through all the flower pressings and post it note poems she'd glued in a fancy looking layout.

"I didn't know you kept them all."

Spencer's voice caused Y/N's head to shoot up from the page and found him in her office doorway with a whole bouquet of daffodils in his hand. Her eyes lit up and she beelined for him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"My train was late, petal."

"Excuses, excuses, Dr Reid."

"Oh, it's Dr Reid today?" he teased, leaning close enough to nudge his nose into hers. "Do you think sweet cheeks is too unprofessional, Dr L/N?"

"Maybe it is, sweet cheeks."

The flowers were gently placed on the nearest surface so Spencer could use both hands to cradle her cheeks and pull her in for a kiss. He smiled against her lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled in happiness. Because he'd done it. He'd actually done it. He'd gained her affection.

And now he had it, he was never going to let it wilt. It may have to go in the fridge for a moment or two, but it would always be brought back into the sunlight.

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